Legend of Ransera

Whether he heard her or not, all she saw of him was a phantom. When the heard his blade collide with a ward—a sound he knew well—he aimed for the door behind her. She could ward, but she couldn't sense him, it seemed. But he could sense through his own illusions. He pushed off the wall next to the door, muting all of his sounds, and slammed into the back of her where she hadn't bothered to shield. His momentum spun them around, and he lifted her off the ground by her neck, showering her mind with a cacophony of illusory visions, sounds, smells, and feelings, confusing her senses as he choked her out.

Aurin eased her body to the floor, held tightly to her longer than he ought to. It wasn't enough to kill her, but he wanted to be sure she was unconscious before he set her entirely to the floor. Then he rifled through her pockets, an old habit from surviving on the streets. After a few moments of consideration, he altered the mess he had created to make it look more like her doing. The temporary lack of air and the confusion of his glamours might just make her a less than reliable narrator when she was questioned.

They were Zaichaeri; they likely didn't trust her anyway, Order or not.

"All right, all right, all right," he murmured to himself, pocking a few trophies from her, then rubbing his hands over his knees to keep them dry.

The documents weren't here. Overmann wasn't here.

Aurin stretched out with his feelings to get a sense for the rest of the building, seeking Overmann, seeking the borders of the null-ward against Traversion as that might be important for him to know, and scouted the route from this building to where they kept the documents he would need to provide to Valencia Grey.

"C'mon, you old bastard," he murmured. "Where are you? Everyone wants you dead and I'm such a people-pleaser..."

It was easy enough to find him, and easy enough to pass muster wearing the face and form of the unconscious body he had set up in a compromising position in the general's quarters.

"Deine Schlampe braucht dich jetzt, mein Herr," she said in a throaty voice. It gave her access to him, and that was all she needed. Manicured nails scratched along his shoulder as she came around behind him. The needle in his neck might even have read at first as an aggressive love bite. But it wasn't. It had been dipped in the tiny ampule he had purchased from a contact among the Kindred, and its kiss made his last words degrade into a little moan.

The moan itself was just a continuation of whatever he had been saying before he lost the ability to speak.

She spoke: "Du warst ein sehr ungezogener Junge."

She could sense his confusion, but he could barely even moan now, more of a confused grunt as she slapped an illusory riding crop against her hand as if this was all some piquant sex game. He could see her, at least until his muscles turned to traitorous jelly and he sort of shriveled in upon himself.

"Oh, no, no, no," she chided, manhandling him back in his seat so he could see. "You see, I was paid to kill you, which I will, but I was paid more to ensure that you suffered, so we are going to see to that." She pulled a little pouch out from between her breasts; from there, she pulled out another needle. With a gentle little jab, she broke the skin of his neck once more. "The first, a paralytic; the second, pain."

The general managed the faintest little whine, eyes watering, but that was all. She made his emotions a blind spot for herself once his pain reached a certain level, before it was truly excruciating. Then she ransacked his office for any documents she wouldn't find in the cache later. She took her time about it. Promises were promises. She slit his throat; not enough to give him a quick, clean death, but enough so she had the proper media to mop it up with his handkerchief and paint a message in his blood on the wall behind his desk: Repent, traitors.

Finally, glancing at the clock, she sighed.

"I suppose that ought to be enough. Off to Wraedan with you." She slit his throat entirely then, pulling until steel hit bone. Then, she turned the blade around so the other side, serrated, could be applied to the bone and saw through it. Before she left, she wrapped his hands around a bronze-colored rose as if he were in a casket.

Pristine as anything, she left his office and the building with a briefcase. She found the cache and let herself inside. Once there, she dropped the illusory façade. He was Aurin once more, with a severed head held by the hair instead of a briefcase. He was careful not to get blood on anything. Anyway, it wasn't dripping much anymore.

"Fucking idiots," he muttered, but it was gleeful. The ward against traversion hadn't been duplicated here. While storing things away from the main office could be a savvy move, they hadn't done it right. Rather than waste any more time, he opened a portal directly beneath the files and let them fall with some fanfare into the Railrunner warehouse in the area allotted for his use.

A young novice gaped up at him from where she was cataloguing something in the allotment next to his.

"Hey, catch!" he called, tossing the severed head to her. "A present for Valencia."

The portal closed, and he opened another one, smaller, in the wall. It was trickier, though, as it didn't lead to someplace exactly. Eshar had given him leave to map the slipspace in their little pocket realm, but he was sometimes not allowed in, not when they were dealing with something else or didn't desire his presence. When he sensed the connection between this point and that plane, he grinned something feral and stepped through.

There was a manic, exhilarated cast to his blood-spattered face as he began to pull off his ruined clothes.

"Come and play, Eshar," he called, "I desire more than anything right now to fuck you."

Later, perhaps, he might wonder whether Arry would judge him for the pageantry of his murder, whether Torin would look at him with his adoration and trust dimmed, whether Rivin would look at him and see his sadistic doctor. Now, though, he was as good as his word. He had won the game and his blood was high. He wanted to celebrate like a bad man.

Eshar turned, a brow arched as someone entered their domain. Very few had the right and they had not been expecting anyone but when they saw the redheaded assassin step through the portal their face lit up. Stepping closer they saw the state of the invading fox and their expression turned into a disturbing combination of childlike delight and lecherous intent.

"Why, duck, you do bring me the nicest things." Their tone was licentious as they ran one finger through one of the smears decorating Aurin and then bringing it to their mouth.



Points: 15, may be used for magic

Injuries/Ailments: A newfound enjoyment in assassination?

Loot:
1 disembodied head
Several important Zaichaeri State documents
Several military medals awarded to General Overmann
The gratitude and acceptance of the Myshalarai and Railrunner covens

Notes: Enjoyed as always

Mod XP: Rune: 16