Kalsazi Nights: A Little Shadow Attacks
Posted: Sat Sep 25, 2021 5:04 am
Kalsazi Nights: A Little Shadow Attacks 
25th Ash 121
Tonight was a night where Yshvold had to fend for himself. It was not time for him to sleep yet and he had spent little time actually exploring the city when the sun went down. Far to restless to merely lay down on Lady Petra's roof and star gaze, Yshvold took to the rooftops of Kalzasi for new sport to ease his aching boredom.
For a peaceful city during day, the patrols at night made it much more so. Blending into the night above was easy enough and so long as he didn't cause an incident he should be left alone, at least that was his intention. Was being the apt word as he heard a shrill scream in an alley and a pair of sky guard dropped their patrol to run in on foot. They were fast by their own right, but he had a better route and less armor to slow him down.
Yshvold expected to find some woman in distress, but instead he found a thin man with pointed ears, wearing clothes he recognized from his time in the market. This man was a seller of goods, and he found himself in a place he did not belong. He was babbling something at another stronger man standing over him, holding a bag that Yshvold presumed belonged to the feminine victim on the ground. The stronger man carried himself with malicious confidence from under his own cloak, Yshvold could see it even from above, but knew he must flee fast for the guards were on their way to spoil his fun.
The little shadow above considered walking away. Why was he there in the first place, to watch? Could he do something here? What was he training for in the first place, if not to help in moments like these?
He donned his mask and just as the man turned to leave, and Yshvold jumped from his perch. He was silent, deadly, but just a bit off mark. instead of stabbing both of his daggers into the mans jugulars he hit his shoulders and carved down a couple inches before kicking off. The man was no doubt in pain but turned to face the cloaked boy, drawing some sort of firearm he hid on his person.
Yshvold knew to get in close, but not in a straight line. He ducked, bobbed, and weaved as he closed the distance and the man's shot missed, leaving him no choice but to try and draw his own close quarters weapon of choice. Whatever it was Yshvold will have to look later for he was not about to let the man get another chance to face the boy on even ground. When the man missed Yshvold rushed in and struck a dagger into his wrist as the man went for another hidden weapon, pinning his arm to his body as the blade pierced at his liver.
"Fuck! Get off'a me you brat!" The man shout, raising his other fist to strike Yshvold down but found the gleam of a second blade rushing towards his face... to late.
A splash of crimson spelled the end of the mans misadventures and ill gotten gains. The raised fist came back over his throat to cover the open wound and he fell back onto the ground. This was an opportunity the boy was not going to pass up to finish his work before giving the man a chance to strike back before his life essence leaves his body for good. The knife that pinned his arm to his body came out and the boy jumped onto the man, stabbing with both blades as fast as he could into his chest.
The conflict was not long, taking only twenty seconds to conclude, but every second counted when Yshvold knew guards were on their way.
Checking back he saw the cowardly shopkeep against the wall, finding the boy to be more terrifying than the man who held his life in his grasps mere seconds before. In the moonlight Yshvold could see he had wet himself in terror, a pitiful sight to be sure but he will be thankful to have his belongings back in hand. The man on the ground however...
Yshvold looked back at his work and saw something in the mans cloak. Some crystals that pulsed with power. This man would not be needing them, and Yshvold found them interesting. Far too interesting as he looted his body and took 6 blue gems for his own study and the sounds of armored footsteps got too close for his liking.
The only way back up to the roof was towards the womanly man and a short jump up from his shoulders to safety, but that was where the guards were coming from.
From the victims perspective he only saw a tiny shadow descend on the burglar and sprayed the mans blood across the entirety of the alleyway. Then the thing stood and looked his way, it was terror incarnate. The guards were in sight and he had to get to them for his own safety. The little monster wasn't interested in his bag, but looked to be coming for him now. He had to run but his legs wouldn't go. They betrayed him in his last moment of life and he shut his eyes as the thing rushed forward.
His life was over, he knew it, but all he felt was two feet on his shoulders push off and a quiet "You're welcome" before he opened his eyes and the tiny thing was gone. The guards saw the thing of course and one of them shot an arrow at it, only piercing through some cape it had. Then it dawned on him, that thing came to save him.
The mix of terror, relief, and guilt swirled in his mind as the man gripped his shoulders and realized just how close he came to having his life being ruined or taken, and then saved by some shadowy child. Whatever the guards were saying to him fell on deaf ears as he reflected on his life and how he could do better than what he was now.
Yshvold himself couldn't believe how close he got to being shot. The foolish guards even ruined his cloak, putting a hole in it, in their attempt to kill him for his "good deed". Ungrateful, that's what they are. They might have gotten there in time themselves but he did their job for him, they should be paying him.
The Frustration of being shot at and only having six lousy gems as compensation soured the boys mood. All he could do for the moment is escape the vicinity and find somewhere quiet to look over his loot. Damn guards, not even a single thank you as they shot arrows at him.
As his journey to find a quiet sanctuary away from prying eyes and arrows went on, and guards were alerted to some mysterious youth traversing the rooftops, Yshvold found that he could not stay up top like this tonight if he wants any peace and quiet. The hood and mask must be discarded for now, and he must face his discomfort for the night.
As the mask came off Yshvold thought he might have been a little too cruel in his thoughts of the sky guard. The pure white of the mask had been splattered in his victims blood as his cloak had been soaked as well, he must look atrocious. Completely unsuitable for the public eye if his studies would have him believe.
Perhaps helping that man was a mistake. He put a target on his head for his act of kindness for him and now the laws of the universe was coming to pay him back for acting out of his usual norm. Karma had its grudge against the boy, for what reason he did not know, and now it found opportunity to come swinging at him in full force.
His mask and cloak had to be stored somewhere no one would look, and in the crease between some crates and a building seemed to be the best place for now. The daggers had to go for now as well, he had to appear as docile as possible to escape notice. It would have worked too if it weren't for the splash of blood across his leather armor, prompting him to change his mind completely on discarding anything.
Trial and error, these were his teachers and they were doing wonders for him tonight.
For now he made his way towards low city, moving between patrols and hiding when necessary. Eventually the guards eased up for one reason or another but he never noticed and assumed everything here was out for his blood. Such was the way of his life.
The slums of this part of Kalsazi were nothing compared to what he had to deal with in the Middens. Any person who found themselves outside gave the boy a wide berth when they saw the carnage upon his cloak and mask, not wishing to risk their lives for whatever goods he possessed, covered in blood as he was, and finally he found himself peace and tranquility.
The stones were not forgotten, and he pulled them out of pocket to give them a look over. A tiny bit of aether swirled inside each gem, like tiny dancers at play for him. He admired them for a time and thought he could make use of this.
As Lady Petra had told him, everything had aether and he was simply a trowel.. or something like that. What she meant was clear, he could hold aether in his body, and what he could do was not fully known, but he could experiment right now.
The tiny dancing aether in each of the gems splintered and shriveled as he gripped them tightly, sucking away all the power he felt within, and a lingering hunger filled his body. Some unknown side affect of using his gift perhaps, or maybe he just forgot to eat today, he knew not but what he did know is that this was far from his fill of aether but it will have to do.
The drip of power he felt inside him was far more stable than when he practiced with Lady Petra, and he could feel it move around inside him as he decided what he wanted to do with it. To explode moved it to every corner of his body, to project it brought it to his finger tips, and to devour it tucked the aether away in his stomach. Then an idea came to him as the aether moved to the soles of his feet.
Before he needed to use the man as a stool to get higher up so perhaps he could do something with this power to lift him, and so he did. Yshvold jumped and he could still feel the ground beneath his feet as he leaped over the nearby house with ease, only to see that some fragmented crystals gave him the boost he needed for such a feat.
He did it, some new astounding power that lay dormant and he did it on his own, he couldn't wait to show Lady Petra his progress. The theory had been in his mind before but he couldn't get it to manifest so clearly like he just did, but now he was the master of his own gifts.
Yshvold lands on the roof and huddles down, covering his mouth with his hands under the mask. He could feel himself wanting to laugh in joy. This astounding feeling, may it last for eternity. He had to go back now and find his lady to give her the good news.
For a peaceful city during day, the patrols at night made it much more so. Blending into the night above was easy enough and so long as he didn't cause an incident he should be left alone, at least that was his intention. Was being the apt word as he heard a shrill scream in an alley and a pair of sky guard dropped their patrol to run in on foot. They were fast by their own right, but he had a better route and less armor to slow him down.
Yshvold expected to find some woman in distress, but instead he found a thin man with pointed ears, wearing clothes he recognized from his time in the market. This man was a seller of goods, and he found himself in a place he did not belong. He was babbling something at another stronger man standing over him, holding a bag that Yshvold presumed belonged to the feminine victim on the ground. The stronger man carried himself with malicious confidence from under his own cloak, Yshvold could see it even from above, but knew he must flee fast for the guards were on their way to spoil his fun.
The little shadow above considered walking away. Why was he there in the first place, to watch? Could he do something here? What was he training for in the first place, if not to help in moments like these?
He donned his mask and just as the man turned to leave, and Yshvold jumped from his perch. He was silent, deadly, but just a bit off mark. instead of stabbing both of his daggers into the mans jugulars he hit his shoulders and carved down a couple inches before kicking off. The man was no doubt in pain but turned to face the cloaked boy, drawing some sort of firearm he hid on his person.
Yshvold knew to get in close, but not in a straight line. He ducked, bobbed, and weaved as he closed the distance and the man's shot missed, leaving him no choice but to try and draw his own close quarters weapon of choice. Whatever it was Yshvold will have to look later for he was not about to let the man get another chance to face the boy on even ground. When the man missed Yshvold rushed in and struck a dagger into his wrist as the man went for another hidden weapon, pinning his arm to his body as the blade pierced at his liver.
"Fuck! Get off'a me you brat!" The man shout, raising his other fist to strike Yshvold down but found the gleam of a second blade rushing towards his face... to late.
A splash of crimson spelled the end of the mans misadventures and ill gotten gains. The raised fist came back over his throat to cover the open wound and he fell back onto the ground. This was an opportunity the boy was not going to pass up to finish his work before giving the man a chance to strike back before his life essence leaves his body for good. The knife that pinned his arm to his body came out and the boy jumped onto the man, stabbing with both blades as fast as he could into his chest.
The conflict was not long, taking only twenty seconds to conclude, but every second counted when Yshvold knew guards were on their way.
Checking back he saw the cowardly shopkeep against the wall, finding the boy to be more terrifying than the man who held his life in his grasps mere seconds before. In the moonlight Yshvold could see he had wet himself in terror, a pitiful sight to be sure but he will be thankful to have his belongings back in hand. The man on the ground however...
Yshvold looked back at his work and saw something in the mans cloak. Some crystals that pulsed with power. This man would not be needing them, and Yshvold found them interesting. Far too interesting as he looted his body and took 6 blue gems for his own study and the sounds of armored footsteps got too close for his liking.
The only way back up to the roof was towards the womanly man and a short jump up from his shoulders to safety, but that was where the guards were coming from.
From the victims perspective he only saw a tiny shadow descend on the burglar and sprayed the mans blood across the entirety of the alleyway. Then the thing stood and looked his way, it was terror incarnate. The guards were in sight and he had to get to them for his own safety. The little monster wasn't interested in his bag, but looked to be coming for him now. He had to run but his legs wouldn't go. They betrayed him in his last moment of life and he shut his eyes as the thing rushed forward.
His life was over, he knew it, but all he felt was two feet on his shoulders push off and a quiet "You're welcome" before he opened his eyes and the tiny thing was gone. The guards saw the thing of course and one of them shot an arrow at it, only piercing through some cape it had. Then it dawned on him, that thing came to save him.
The mix of terror, relief, and guilt swirled in his mind as the man gripped his shoulders and realized just how close he came to having his life being ruined or taken, and then saved by some shadowy child. Whatever the guards were saying to him fell on deaf ears as he reflected on his life and how he could do better than what he was now.
Yshvold himself couldn't believe how close he got to being shot. The foolish guards even ruined his cloak, putting a hole in it, in their attempt to kill him for his "good deed". Ungrateful, that's what they are. They might have gotten there in time themselves but he did their job for him, they should be paying him.
The Frustration of being shot at and only having six lousy gems as compensation soured the boys mood. All he could do for the moment is escape the vicinity and find somewhere quiet to look over his loot. Damn guards, not even a single thank you as they shot arrows at him.
As his journey to find a quiet sanctuary away from prying eyes and arrows went on, and guards were alerted to some mysterious youth traversing the rooftops, Yshvold found that he could not stay up top like this tonight if he wants any peace and quiet. The hood and mask must be discarded for now, and he must face his discomfort for the night.
As the mask came off Yshvold thought he might have been a little too cruel in his thoughts of the sky guard. The pure white of the mask had been splattered in his victims blood as his cloak had been soaked as well, he must look atrocious. Completely unsuitable for the public eye if his studies would have him believe.
Perhaps helping that man was a mistake. He put a target on his head for his act of kindness for him and now the laws of the universe was coming to pay him back for acting out of his usual norm. Karma had its grudge against the boy, for what reason he did not know, and now it found opportunity to come swinging at him in full force.
His mask and cloak had to be stored somewhere no one would look, and in the crease between some crates and a building seemed to be the best place for now. The daggers had to go for now as well, he had to appear as docile as possible to escape notice. It would have worked too if it weren't for the splash of blood across his leather armor, prompting him to change his mind completely on discarding anything.
Trial and error, these were his teachers and they were doing wonders for him tonight.
For now he made his way towards low city, moving between patrols and hiding when necessary. Eventually the guards eased up for one reason or another but he never noticed and assumed everything here was out for his blood. Such was the way of his life.
The slums of this part of Kalsazi were nothing compared to what he had to deal with in the Middens. Any person who found themselves outside gave the boy a wide berth when they saw the carnage upon his cloak and mask, not wishing to risk their lives for whatever goods he possessed, covered in blood as he was, and finally he found himself peace and tranquility.
The stones were not forgotten, and he pulled them out of pocket to give them a look over. A tiny bit of aether swirled inside each gem, like tiny dancers at play for him. He admired them for a time and thought he could make use of this.
As Lady Petra had told him, everything had aether and he was simply a trowel.. or something like that. What she meant was clear, he could hold aether in his body, and what he could do was not fully known, but he could experiment right now.
The tiny dancing aether in each of the gems splintered and shriveled as he gripped them tightly, sucking away all the power he felt within, and a lingering hunger filled his body. Some unknown side affect of using his gift perhaps, or maybe he just forgot to eat today, he knew not but what he did know is that this was far from his fill of aether but it will have to do.
The drip of power he felt inside him was far more stable than when he practiced with Lady Petra, and he could feel it move around inside him as he decided what he wanted to do with it. To explode moved it to every corner of his body, to project it brought it to his finger tips, and to devour it tucked the aether away in his stomach. Then an idea came to him as the aether moved to the soles of his feet.
Before he needed to use the man as a stool to get higher up so perhaps he could do something with this power to lift him, and so he did. Yshvold jumped and he could still feel the ground beneath his feet as he leaped over the nearby house with ease, only to see that some fragmented crystals gave him the boost he needed for such a feat.
He did it, some new astounding power that lay dormant and he did it on his own, he couldn't wait to show Lady Petra his progress. The theory had been in his mind before but he couldn't get it to manifest so clearly like he just did, but now he was the master of his own gifts.
Yshvold lands on the roof and huddles down, covering his mouth with his hands under the mask. He could feel himself wanting to laugh in joy. This astounding feeling, may it last for eternity. He had to go back now and find his lady to give her the good news.