Aerin
IOK's Token Brit
Closing time, or at least as close to it as you could get working in an inn. Renard was placing the last of the tankards away when he heard the movement. Heart racing he tensed and froze, an instinctive urge to make himself appear as small as he could overwhelming the rotund breton. Lelaine, where was Lelaine?
“Renard, I’m glad I caught you. You seem scared? Good, you should be.”
His voice was enough to send Renard hiding, so false in its ease and friendly nature. A gloved hand rested on the countertop, cloaked in the shadows and gloom of the dark corner of the dilapidated tavern. Long fingers grazed the ring of condensation left by the tankard Renard was clutching, the ring and middle fingers tapping softly on the wood. The leather of the glove was worn, a small tear beginning at the tip of the index finger. The hide was dark, almost black, but in the dim light of the hearth you could just make out deeply coloured stains that sent a chill through the breton.
“Now, now I can explain…”
“Can you? Well go on, I’d love to hear what filthy excuse you’ve come up with.”
A bead of sweat ran down the side of Renard’s temple, his tongue darted out to quickly wet chapped and dry lips. He was clutching onto the counter, his knuckles a stark white beneath the dirt and grime as he held on, fearful his legs might give out in his panic.
“Was it the money Renard? Did they place a nice fat purse in your hand to send you on your way? It must have been a lot of coin, after all, I do not make a good enemy. The payout had to be worth the risk.”
“I know Jax, but you see…”
“I think you’re the one who isn’t seeing things my friend.” The hand slipped away and a face came into view. Cruel eyes to match a cruel heart he thought. Cruel eyes, and a thin mouth that stretched into a false smile. It was that mirthless smile that had trapped Renard in the first place. It coaxed him in, softly calling to him, whispering promises of wealth and power through dangerous connections. “Did you honestly think I wouldn’t work it out? You have not been blessed with the art of subtlety I’m afraid. Then again, perhaps you thought this little plan would end differently. But sadly they are one man less, and I am down a contact”
“Please Jax, we can work something out I’m sure. Maybe, maybe if I…”
The figure raised a hand to silence the breton before he continued his panicked rambling. “No, I’m afraid we cannot. You have too much to lose and I have a business to run. A business that you will no longer be a part of.” Renard felt a tight grip around his wrist, and despite how much he tried to pull away Jax did not relinquish his hold.
“My old partner would have taken a finger for this sort of thing, maybe two even. One for the false intel, a second for your deception and betrayal. Maybe a third if he was having a bad day. Do you think I should do the same? Blood for blood they say.” Renard caught sight of the gleam of cold metal in the corner of his vision, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to control his body’s reaction. As the blade slowly descended he felt warmth spread through his breeches, the ice cold tip of the dagger coming to a halt on the back of his hand.
“I am not Vitus though am I? I am a different creature entirely. You should have remembered that when my former associates visited you.” The blade moved quickly, a small line of red along the back of his knuckles. Tiny beads of crimson liquid welled up along the minuscule wound, completely harmless even as Renard winced at the sting of the cut.
Jax let go of the breton’s wrist and stepped back, and for a moment he seemed to slip away completely into the shadows. “We shall not see each other again Renard.”
With that parting comment he was gone, and Renard was left on shaking legs, clutching at his hand, wondering perhaps if it was over. Thought of relocating his small family somewhere quieter flashed through his mind. Somewhere safe where Lelaine could grow up quietly. No more of this assassination business, it was too much of a risk…
As Jax slipped away and left the idiot breton to his delusions, he carefully lifted the blade of his dagger to the moonlight, his eyes narrowing at the greenish sheen that graced the blade’s edge. Wiping away the poison on a rag tucked into his belt he worked quietly, polishing the dagger until it glimmered, clean of any substances. The poison itself was a nasty concoction, and one of the imperial’s favourites. The effects were similar to those resulting from a bad wound, the poison festering the cut till the victim was killed by his own bad blood. Slow, painful, messy, but best of all, practically untraceable. People died from improperly treated cuts all the time, why would anyone think to question another?
Sighing to himself Jax twirled the blade in the air before carefully sheathing it away and looking up to the sky. From the moons he could wager he had enough time to make his way to the rendezvous point he had set for the newest recruit. It was time to see if they had what it took.
The silvered light cast by the twin moons did little to illuminate the worn dirt track that snaked along the main road to Riften. Unkempt, and rarely used it was a struggle to move through the undergrowth without making much noise. It was not too much for Jax to bear however, it never was. He was a craftsman in his own way, and the only thing a true master blamed was himself. Always pushing, always striving to improve, to push the limits of their own body. Always.
Eventually Jax reached the small clearing he had marked on the small parchment map he'd offered to the newest recruit. It wasn't much by way of information, but they would be able to work it out, he was certain. It was a simple enough job. A guard determined on having a local farmer's wife would be dealt with in return for the man's limited produce. Jax had arranged the contract himself, a growing rarity these days. The poor man had looked beside himself when he understood he could not afford the price in gold, but his livelihood would be worth just as much. Enough to maintain the company's food stores over the long winter in exchange for a life. As far as Jax was concerned it was a fair and generous deal.
In turn, it was quiet enough location to use in case the recruit wasn't able to meet the parameters of the job. Jax did not imagine he would need to intervene, an individual had to be gifted to be granted this opportunity, but it was always a potential outcome. He had every confidence tonight would play out smoothly, but it never hurt to plan for the worst.
Scowling at a torch bug flying low by his face Jax swatted at the insufferable insect away and leant against a mossy boulder as he waited for Daud. The man in question had already caught Vitus' attention before that unfortunate disagreement. It seemed the nord had made quite a name for himself already. That in itself had irked Jax, he didn't have time for celebrity killers. Vitus however had assured Jax that Daud would prove an asset to the company. The imperial wondered perhaps whether he should have questioned his superior more closely, considering how his last judgement had lead to his death at the hands of those he seemed to trust. At that memory Jax sighed and rubbed his eyes.
By the gods he was tired. He'd left the dank cesspool he considered Riften almost a full moon's turn ago. While he wasn't particularly fond of the Rift or its people, he was looking forward to getting back to camp where he would indulge himself briefly by sleeping as long as he could. It wasn't the physical pain of exhaustion Jax loathed, more so it was the effect it took on his mind, his dexterity and perceptiveness faltering as his mind wore out. Just this one recruit job and then he could get back home.
“Renard, I’m glad I caught you. You seem scared? Good, you should be.”
His voice was enough to send Renard hiding, so false in its ease and friendly nature. A gloved hand rested on the countertop, cloaked in the shadows and gloom of the dark corner of the dilapidated tavern. Long fingers grazed the ring of condensation left by the tankard Renard was clutching, the ring and middle fingers tapping softly on the wood. The leather of the glove was worn, a small tear beginning at the tip of the index finger. The hide was dark, almost black, but in the dim light of the hearth you could just make out deeply coloured stains that sent a chill through the breton.
“Now, now I can explain…”
“Can you? Well go on, I’d love to hear what filthy excuse you’ve come up with.”
A bead of sweat ran down the side of Renard’s temple, his tongue darted out to quickly wet chapped and dry lips. He was clutching onto the counter, his knuckles a stark white beneath the dirt and grime as he held on, fearful his legs might give out in his panic.
“Was it the money Renard? Did they place a nice fat purse in your hand to send you on your way? It must have been a lot of coin, after all, I do not make a good enemy. The payout had to be worth the risk.”
“I know Jax, but you see…”
“I think you’re the one who isn’t seeing things my friend.” The hand slipped away and a face came into view. Cruel eyes to match a cruel heart he thought. Cruel eyes, and a thin mouth that stretched into a false smile. It was that mirthless smile that had trapped Renard in the first place. It coaxed him in, softly calling to him, whispering promises of wealth and power through dangerous connections. “Did you honestly think I wouldn’t work it out? You have not been blessed with the art of subtlety I’m afraid. Then again, perhaps you thought this little plan would end differently. But sadly they are one man less, and I am down a contact”
“Please Jax, we can work something out I’m sure. Maybe, maybe if I…”
The figure raised a hand to silence the breton before he continued his panicked rambling. “No, I’m afraid we cannot. You have too much to lose and I have a business to run. A business that you will no longer be a part of.” Renard felt a tight grip around his wrist, and despite how much he tried to pull away Jax did not relinquish his hold.
“My old partner would have taken a finger for this sort of thing, maybe two even. One for the false intel, a second for your deception and betrayal. Maybe a third if he was having a bad day. Do you think I should do the same? Blood for blood they say.” Renard caught sight of the gleam of cold metal in the corner of his vision, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to control his body’s reaction. As the blade slowly descended he felt warmth spread through his breeches, the ice cold tip of the dagger coming to a halt on the back of his hand.
“I am not Vitus though am I? I am a different creature entirely. You should have remembered that when my former associates visited you.” The blade moved quickly, a small line of red along the back of his knuckles. Tiny beads of crimson liquid welled up along the minuscule wound, completely harmless even as Renard winced at the sting of the cut.
Jax let go of the breton’s wrist and stepped back, and for a moment he seemed to slip away completely into the shadows. “We shall not see each other again Renard.”
With that parting comment he was gone, and Renard was left on shaking legs, clutching at his hand, wondering perhaps if it was over. Thought of relocating his small family somewhere quieter flashed through his mind. Somewhere safe where Lelaine could grow up quietly. No more of this assassination business, it was too much of a risk…
As Jax slipped away and left the idiot breton to his delusions, he carefully lifted the blade of his dagger to the moonlight, his eyes narrowing at the greenish sheen that graced the blade’s edge. Wiping away the poison on a rag tucked into his belt he worked quietly, polishing the dagger until it glimmered, clean of any substances. The poison itself was a nasty concoction, and one of the imperial’s favourites. The effects were similar to those resulting from a bad wound, the poison festering the cut till the victim was killed by his own bad blood. Slow, painful, messy, but best of all, practically untraceable. People died from improperly treated cuts all the time, why would anyone think to question another?
Sighing to himself Jax twirled the blade in the air before carefully sheathing it away and looking up to the sky. From the moons he could wager he had enough time to make his way to the rendezvous point he had set for the newest recruit. It was time to see if they had what it took.
The silvered light cast by the twin moons did little to illuminate the worn dirt track that snaked along the main road to Riften. Unkempt, and rarely used it was a struggle to move through the undergrowth without making much noise. It was not too much for Jax to bear however, it never was. He was a craftsman in his own way, and the only thing a true master blamed was himself. Always pushing, always striving to improve, to push the limits of their own body. Always.
Eventually Jax reached the small clearing he had marked on the small parchment map he'd offered to the newest recruit. It wasn't much by way of information, but they would be able to work it out, he was certain. It was a simple enough job. A guard determined on having a local farmer's wife would be dealt with in return for the man's limited produce. Jax had arranged the contract himself, a growing rarity these days. The poor man had looked beside himself when he understood he could not afford the price in gold, but his livelihood would be worth just as much. Enough to maintain the company's food stores over the long winter in exchange for a life. As far as Jax was concerned it was a fair and generous deal.
In turn, it was quiet enough location to use in case the recruit wasn't able to meet the parameters of the job. Jax did not imagine he would need to intervene, an individual had to be gifted to be granted this opportunity, but it was always a potential outcome. He had every confidence tonight would play out smoothly, but it never hurt to plan for the worst.
Scowling at a torch bug flying low by his face Jax swatted at the insufferable insect away and leant against a mossy boulder as he waited for Daud. The man in question had already caught Vitus' attention before that unfortunate disagreement. It seemed the nord had made quite a name for himself already. That in itself had irked Jax, he didn't have time for celebrity killers. Vitus however had assured Jax that Daud would prove an asset to the company. The imperial wondered perhaps whether he should have questioned his superior more closely, considering how his last judgement had lead to his death at the hands of those he seemed to trust. At that memory Jax sighed and rubbed his eyes.
By the gods he was tired. He'd left the dank cesspool he considered Riften almost a full moon's turn ago. While he wasn't particularly fond of the Rift or its people, he was looking forward to getting back to camp where he would indulge himself briefly by sleeping as long as he could. It wasn't the physical pain of exhaustion Jax loathed, more so it was the effect it took on his mind, his dexterity and perceptiveness faltering as his mind wore out. Just this one recruit job and then he could get back home.