Pressing onwards., Old Bimtis - Another Job (Continued)

As Axin took breaths of the fresh outside air, he replaced the cover guarding the ladder to the Underworks. Not that he'd really need to, it's not as if anybody really went down there much. Most of the citizens didn't leave the Underworks, and it wasn't common for outsiders to come down there either. Strolling off, Axin muttered a tune quietly to himself.

As he continued through the residential area towards the cities main gates, he gave quick glances through peoples windows. It appeared many of them were eating a meal, but it seemed too large to be breakfast. Must be round about midday. Axin had some trouble keeping track of time. He had a bad sleeping pattern.

"Fancy some fun?" he heard a female voice ask him, as he walked past one a Bimtis pub. A prostitute, no doubt. He turned to face her, and indeed he was right. The woman was wearing a very short skirt, any shorter and it'd be a belt. She was wearing a white shirt, held together by only a single button partway down, revealing her bra underneath. Her long leggings were pulled far up her legs, and she was wearing a pair of high-heeled shoes. Her long blonde hair appeared slightly greasy, as if she hadn't showered recently. Her eyes seemed quite puffy and dark. It seemed she hadn't slept well, either.

"No thank you." Axin replied. The woman gave him a look that seemed quite hurt. It would appear she wasn't quite accustomed to being rejected. "You shouldn't desecrate yourself like this. Go home, clean yourself up, and find some form of respectable profession." It pained him to see people do this to themselves. There were so many other ways they could get by, they just didn't often see them.

The woman sighed heavily. "If only it were that easy.." she muttered. It was clear she'd lost all hope. She headed back inside, most probably for another drink or to try and find a client. Axin carried on walking, still heading for the city gates.

((OOC: I plan to stay here for a few posts, so if anybody wants to jump in, you're more than welcome.))

What could ever be said about the lands of New Bimtis by the eyes of the Witch-crafter, by the eyes of Ophelia as she walked through the infestation of different kindred... A city always ressembles those that make it their habitat, whatever existed within their city said something of their own personalities. Above the city was of thick stone, strong symbols of faith to the ever-great Ace. Yet beneath... It spoke of what lay underneath and through every reaper... Filth, stench.

They were the first of the kindred that fell for something less, believing in the value of armour, the strength of the weapon. Turn their back upon the ever dominant magic... For reasons unknown. Those not born potent perhaps found themselves flawed, disregarded.. Like a child, they turned away to find something else that they were better at... Swinging a sword like the ever incapable ape primate. Degeneration of decay, in the eyes of those true to the cause of the Witch-crafter.

Even amoung those of the Reaper, Ophelia aspired to their height, domineered in their armour, clad from head to toe.. Yet still despite all. She rose above them. What could be said symbolically of the Witch-crafters on the other hand? Infamous for the height and slender figure. Height shows their rise of dominance above all other kindred.. The slender figure the illustration of their purity of the sin of gluttony.

The witch-crafters were- Her mental concentrations lost within the blink of a moment by the scent that filled the air.. She would deny it with all of the strength she held, keep it inside of a box which shall never be opened. But since the time of the bitten scar upon her neck.. She had found these new abilities to be more than enlightingly useful. The gemini green eyes floated within their sockets, twitching from side to side far to quickly to distinct which face she was looking for... Within a moment it was found. The scent of a rogue, they may take a thousand showers yet it would never rub away the sense of origin, a marking of the cult.

With her feet hidden under the dress she wore, her pace quickened to catch up. Within those moments, she felt the sense that she had held for a long while... The silence, whenche she expected a call to spring forward.. Something that never happened. She was reaching out forever, never recieving anything in return. Needless, she could sense much from his movements. Independent, perhaps why he would lure alone, where most rogues fear to go to relieve themselves without the presence of company..

Judging by his size and frame, she expected him to be more of a lost stubborn child rather than an adult. Needless, all rogues look small within her eyes, she kept her distance.. Where as her first temptation was to grab his shoulders, but alas that would give her more temptation to devour the rogue..Curiousity was at hand, as she began walking closer to the child rogue, until which point they walked side by side...

Ophelia Sierra: "Are you lost Rzun-kai?"

Hiding in the shadows was a rogue trait not a reaper, if the guild wanted someone to do that they shuld have sent a rogue..this was below him as he walked from shadow to shadow, always keeping his eye on Shi'Ren never letting him out of hsi sight for a second. It took him until after he had risen from the belly of th eunderworks to realise thathe was not the only one following the mercenary. A witchcrafter was doing the same and he immediatly slowed thinking to himself thought they were jumping him in Olymus?

He stopped momentarily in front of a stall his head slightly tilted for a better view as the withcrfater quickened her pace until they were break even. This he could tell only from the corners of his eyes, trying to look like he was interested in the merchants wares whilst his chain crept under the stall getting ready to strike and peirce his belly. The withccrafter used a familiar word Rzun-kai a word used mainly by witchcrafters to aggravate the rogue class.

His chain poised it struck and peirced through the mans stomach, he doubled over in pain with not even a whimper escapinghim, because he couldnt. The chain had wrapped around his neck as soon as it had struck, choking him and turning what would be screams into gargling and odd grunts. The merchant died slowly afterwaords and he started to follow Shi'Ren oncemore, keeping distance in the shadows.

Axin was sick of the way he was segregated by the other classes for who he was. Were the Rogues there simply for the entertainment of the other classes? No. They weren't. Sure, a lot of them were perceived to fight without any honour, but when it came down to it, most Rogues will stick together. They'll put their own neck on the line for those that are important to them. At the end of they day, they're still good Mothers, good Fathers and good Friends.

These thoughts made Axin briefly recall his earlier years. The Witch-crafter may poke fun at him for who he set his allegiance with, but in reality, there was nobody else around. When he was forced to leave his Fathers house because he refused to join his stupid cult, where were these self-proclaimed noblemen? He remembered exactly where they were. On the same streets as he was, only they had homes and possessions, so they mocked him. They ridiculed him as if he were emotionless. As if he were just an object that couldn't hear them. Just like the Reapers and Gunners did, too. It sickened him.

His mind began to concentrate on the task at hand. This may be related to the information he'd received. Perhaps this Witch-crafter was sent to keep him away from the Crystal Gardens? Or maybe if she could provoke him into striking, they would have an excuse for the raid to take place. This Which crafter could be a high member of society. They would call it Class-Aggravated Assault and use it as an excuse to conduct another one of their so-called righteous cleanses. Their manipulative streaks were very dominant.

"Your profanities are less-than required, Witch-crafter" Axin replied spitefully. He kicked a large stone out of the way without breaking his stride. The Witch-crafter was still walking beside him, her dress flowing with the air resistance created by each additional step. He awaited her response. He assumed she would just respond from upon her high horse, attempting to aggravate him. Or maybe not, maybe she'd surprise him. As she began to open her mouth, he guessed he'd know soon enough.

The happy smile seemed to fade by the rogue's response. Much like bouncing the ball to another person, instead all that Ophelia found herself with, was bouncing a ball against a brick wall. A lack of retaliation to the blow she fatally delivered. The pacifist attitude seemed familiar to her, the persona that would gladly take a verbal blow without the desire to give deliverance back. Yet... Such an attitude for a Rzun-kai was rather rare... It seemed to make the challenge that much more interesting.

Ophelia Sierra: "Perhaps... But you still haven't answered my question. Where are you going Predian?"

Her natural instincts still dictated for her to call him by Rzun-kai, it had taken some effort to obstruct it. A curtosy not often extended to many of the Farfurthians which she had encountered. She could see the way that he saw her, as a distraction, an irritation. Someone to be shoo'ed away like some common lost-puppy. She wouldn't leave now, not until he learned that people never prefer to be barged away so easily.

Well, that was a start. She'd dropped the insults. However, that was no reason for Axin to trust her. He still believed she was attempting to cause some form of commotion in order to prohibit him from leaving the city and reaching his destination. Axin had never met this woman before, why else would she wish to know where he was heading? You don't just randomly decide to insult a stranger and then enquire into his planned activities for the day.

"My business is my own." he responded to her, courteous but firlmy, still barely even glancing at her, keeping his eyes ahead. The Witch-crafter's voice was somewhat soft, yet not the sort of softness you'd find in a child. The tone of voice, though, and the words being spoken didn't match it, giving it a strange sense of irony not unlike what Axin imagined a vagrant wearing a royal crown would portray. The thought amused him.

His hair bounced lazily in the wind as he continued walking, glancing into peoples windows out of bored curiosity. Passing a slightly battered window with flecking paint he witness a young woman arguing with an elder one. Probably Mother and Daughter. His mind briefly flicked to the subject of children. He'd wanted children once, until he became an assassin-for-hire.. From then on he'd decided against it. He wished not to bring somebody into this world who - simply due to being related to him - would automatically gain many enemies.

He stuck to the shadows like a rogue would to a bag of gold disgusting creatures he thought as he watched them. But he didnt know which he was talking about the witchcrafter...or the rogue. Choices span through his mind, to wrap the chain around the witch's neck and choke the life out of her and to ram his blade through the rogues back, the thought made him smile but he had amission to fulfill and an obligation to stay loyal to the clan.

Another foolish predian bumped ino him sending themselves tot he floor as they looked up he could tell they were ready to kick off but he acted quicker, speeding forwards he placed his hand over the man's mouth and forced his blade between the ribs, twisting it as the snapped and then he brought the sword up slightly slicing the heart as the ribs punctured the lungs. This would be a slow and painful death but the pain and the bloodloss combined would make him fall into unconsciousness.

And he did, with this Soloman took him to the side and using an old rag placed it over his body propping him against the wall as to make him appear like a homeless man.With that he started to follow his mark oncemore. eyes focused on the task ahead of him, wondering when the damned witchcrafters were going to attack. Waiting was a game that Soloman did not take kindly to.

Passing a house with amother and daughter arguing other some petty clothes that she wanted to wear whilst the mother insisted to change. It was rather pathetic to be honest and the mothers voice aggravated his nerves...so high pitched..like a dying rat squeaking in pain. It was time to silence them once and for all. this will only take a moment he thought to himself as he opened the door and stepped inside.

A small corridor strecthed before his eyes, barely wide enough for him to fit in two doors lay to his right and one to his left, slightly open he moved to the left one and saw a small child sleeping in its cot, oblivious to the argument that was now escalating into a fight. A small smile crossed his scarred face and he closed the door gently before he listened careflly for the source of the arguments. It was the second door closest to him. About as silent as he could he made his way to the door and peered through it.

An old woman who could barely walk without the aid of a walking stick was arguing with what looked like her grand daughter. Now he could understand why they were arguing. The young woman was dressed like a farfurthian prostitute and the statues on the wall suggested the family was devout to Ace.He pushed the door aside and stepped forward, both women fell silent as the chain around him uncoiled hitting the floor as it rattled. Shocked the elderly woman ran whilst the young one pulled a blade from god knows where and charged. A simple flick of the chain sent her flying into the roof.

Wrapping round and round, twisting between limbs he held her there until she was covered in chain, unable to move or scream she tried to break free but each movement caused the chains to tighten, each breath became more painful than the last until blood started to seep from every orifice. Slowly she died, bones snapping as veins ruptured, he could imagine her ribs peircing her heart, the brain dying from a lack of oxygen and the heart giving in exploding from the pressure...a deafening explosion and a bright light momentarily stunned him.

The old woman had pulled a shotgun from somewhere and shot him, his armour dented he sighed and sook his head before thrusting his sword mercifully into the elderly womans chest killing her instantly as he whispered into her ear Rest now..be at peace.. with that he let her down to the floor gently as his chain wrapped around his body, a creak at the door and he stepped to the wall. The door opened slightly and a small hand came through. Soloman opened the door and stepped beside the child speaking softly :

"Im sorry..."

With this he left the building the chlld in shock at the murder of his mother and his great grandmother. Just another day in the world of Soloman he sped his pace catching up with Shi Ren before skulking to the shadows once more, leaving the destroyed family far behind, never to be remembered again.

Speculation was all around this world, although it went by many names. Scribbles of thought towards the possible future or an explanation for the past, perhaps a methodology as to the reason why the world exists, why she required the death of others to substain her own. She imagined a world beyond the world of Predia, where each string, each movement she made was controlled beyond a life of logic. A mind that thought every thought, it created the reason she needed for her existence.. Yet most abstract of all, if she was to be a creation of another mind, she is really just that mind-after all.

Is the puppet also the puppeteer without one could the ever really exist? The thoughts came from the abstract, to something beyond comprehension, her mind catching the memories as they played in her mind. She saw the note within her hand, a strike by the witch-crafters soon to hit the lands of Bimtis.. She saw the figure of metal as he spoke of the pride of his home-land... She had met him before, within the Scrapyards of Neosstis. Yet she had avoided the lands of Farfurth like plague... These were not of her own thoughts as she looked to the starry-eyed rogue..

Ophelia Sierra: "Is there any reason is why you reflect my enquries back without hesitation? Do you think I am involved with the planned raid upon these lands?"

With some people there was no way to draw them out but dig deep into their mind, pull themselves to reveal their thoughts. They were like fortresses, singular islands, loners. They never danced with the thought patterns of the others within Predia, it was but a sign of something dangerous occuring within her mind, her mind was opening easier by day to ways of the telepath.

She was distracted for too long, as a Bimtisian child made his way of the building, Ophelia could sense the blind state of distress that surrounded him. His legs to unwilling to walk, unwilling to do anything as he approached herself and the rogue. Blood upon him, yet Ophelia knew it not to be his own..

Child: "Help..."

Axins mind reeled with questions as this Witch-crafter mentioned the raids. If the raids were planned by only a small group, how could she know? Furthermore, if she was indeed one of the group, why would she risk jeopardising the mission by allowing herself to be seen near the planned strike site. If she was recognised after the raid, then she would have hoards of Rogues hunting her until she was six feet under.

He was unsure on how to respond to her query. Admittedly, the knowledge of the raid had taken him by surprise. Axin had imaged it to be a very low-key operation with very little public knowledge. Still partially contemplating his answer, he opened his mouth to respond. Fortunately, he was spared the need to. A blood-covered child approached from behind. Axin heard his fragile voice whimpering a single word, the only word the child's mind seemed to be able to fathom the need for, given the current situation.. "Help..."

Axin surveyed the child's appearance. The blood soaking his clothes was clearly not his own, the child appeared uninjured. Axin's assumption was that the child's parents had been slain, yet for some reason, the child had been spared. Was this a planned hit? A mercy killing? Or just pointless violence? It seemed strange, however. Axin had heard no signs of struggle during his walk. Maybe he had been too fixed on the Witch-crafter. He didn't know.

Under normal circumstances, Axin wouldn't have bothered to help. He - or more - Shi'Ren was on a mission. Anybody else's business was not his own. However, he couldn't help but feel a slight pang of sorrow for the child, his position reminding him of his own so long ago. This child was much younger than when Axin was forced onto the streets. There was no way in hell he's survive on his own.

Axin approached the child slowly, noticing how he was eyeing his weapons up. He could see behind the child's eyes that common sense told him to run, but he couldn't seem to move. Axin knelt down on a single knee and grasped the boy by his ragged clothes. Raising his offensive gauntlet, he heard the Which-crafter inhale sharply. She assumed he was going to kill the child. Axin had other plans.

Slowly and precisely bringing down the blade, Axin carved the mark of the rogue into the child's clothes, mirroring the same act his saviour had done to him. Soon, another rogue would find this child, and hopefully take him in as their own. Hell, even if it was as an apprentice, the child's fate was better than that of his parents.

Finishing the mark, Axin stood back up again. "Remain here, my kind will find you. You will be taken care of." With that he left the child in the alley, bloodstained and alone, but not before taking up two discarded wooden beams, rubbing them together until they ignited, serving as a beacon to the child's position.

Curiousity they say killed the cat, yet it was not in this case. The cat simply pranced around as others perished in it's stead. The cat of course being Ophelia, her control had come well. She had managed to resist the dominant scent of blood upon the boy, as well as turning away from giving the poor child mercy from being indoctrinated by the rogue clans. The cat had a specific taste for curiousity, the child led her nowhere of particular interest. The rogue however could lead her to sources out of her reach.

Why did she stay? Surely they must have been others who would be more open to corruption? The simple fact, those things which are earned easily are never as rewarding as those that give the challenge. Manipulation was a fine art, a witch-crafters past time, manipulation of the environment, the manipulation of others forms of life, manipulations of all of the above. To dub witch-crafters as gods perhaps would be a stretch of the imagination, yet to call them dieties would be more than suitable.

Ophelia Sierra: "I find it most interesting... How the egotistical business-only rogue could be brought to such levels of charity, simply by the change within the environment."

As she moved close to the rogue character once again. She was being like a bad smell around him, forever following, forever burdening him with her presence. Yet while she tried to guess the opinions in his mind, she could only notice one partern emerging through their limited conversation. He never specified her to simply leave him alone.

Ophelia Sierra: "I think you simply choose to be alone, simply for that is what has been given to you. I think that friendship and commitment are things that you grown to fear."

He noticed the child appraoch the bounty hunter and now he recognised her! she was one from te scrayrads of Neosstis when they had cleansed the place of the mechanical abominations. He would have to tread very carefully here as he was covered inblood, yet luckily he knew of a small fountain down this alley. Covered in blood the gleam of his helmet sunk into the shadows of the alley as his cloak sworled behind him int he shadows.

Slipping his hands into the fountain he watched the pair respond to the child, raising his hands sp the water splashed his armour, washing the blood and the sins clean. For now he would remain int he shadows, stalking his prey so he could somplete his mission.

((OOC: short i know but Meh...))

A single shot drove itself deep into the brickwork just inches away from the armoured brute's head. For a moment the man seemingly ignored it but he then turned around to take a good long look at the origin of that shot. Another man stood slouched against the wall, black clothes merging against the shadows and a hat covering his eyes. A long wave of smoke poured from his mouth as he began to spin the revolver in his hand.

The Reaper was unpleased. Leaning away from the wall the man threw his cigarette onto the floor and rubbed it out with his boot. Coming into the light slightly the mans white hair emerged from under his hat.

???:"Sorry, I was aiming for your head. I can never get those blind shots right."

Cricking his neck the man stood a couple for steps forward to the Reaper. And looked him straight in the eyes with a stare that could break through frozen steel. He smiled for a moment then wiped his face of emotions, looking almost sorrowful.

???:"So, can I have a name to write on your tombstone."

The moment he said this the reaper uncoiled a chain which lashed at his direction, the man dodged but only the chain knocked his hat off. Revealing his face from the shadows. Kiyoshii Spiran. He stood awaiting a response with a sarcastic look on his face, still spinning his revolver mockingly.

Axin heard a gunshot off in the distance. It didn't sound like it originated too far away. Still, it was nothing to worry about, no bullets had come his way, sp he continued to progress onwards, still heading for the city gates. The Which-crafter had left the child after Axin had started the fire, and was now back tailing him. This Which-crafter was really trying his patience now. He decided to stop playing the apathy game and get straight-up and personal.

"Is there any particular reason you're following me?" Axin asked coldly. "Or do you regularly just troll random passers-by?"

Another young child crossed their path, this one a female, a little older than the earlier one, and thankfully in better condition. No bloodstains or battered clothes, she was merely chasing something. A quick glance showed it to be a ball, bouncing gently down the alley towards them. Axin softly kicked it back with a casual smile. He didn't mind the children of Bimtis. They didn't hold him with the same contempt that others did. To them, he was just another person doing their daily things. The child smiled back as she picked up the ball, a small symbol of thanks, before scuttling off back to her friends from the way she came.

These few passing moments had bore no reply from the Which-crafter. Axin figured she was wondering what to say. He still had a feeling she was sent to goad him into violence in order to justify the raid. He would not fall for her manipulatory tactics. Instead he would just calmly do his best to make it apparent he wasn't interested in her company nor her words. He had business to take care of and he aimed to do so with as little casualties as possible.

Ophelia's smile was burnt down by the cold harsh answer, she did not expect such a violent reaction from her analytical thoughts upon his unresolved issues as a child, her head turned to the side as she looked away, she had attempted to be kind after there shaky start during the beginning. She shook her head as she walked by his side, her hands weaving through the small portion of her hair that covered her sight as she looked back at the minture rogue.

Ophelia Sierra: "Your a harsh character rogue. Too harsh."

With that she turned away, no longer wanting to be within his company, turning back towards where the gun-shot rang. Perhaps she simply wanted to help, perhaps she simply wanted to know his name, or simply respond to a question. She didn't know why she bothered to speak to share a word with such a Rzun-kai. Yet she had done and she had paid the price in full. She turned around one last time as she looked at the rogue. One thing was for certain, she knew of the raid now and she had the tools to made his life a little more difficult before the end.

"You act as if my words pain you, Witch-crafter." Axin responded. "May I remind you that the first sentence you spoke to me consisted of what seemed to be a considerate question, however, such niceness was followed by an insult." He stood surveying her. It was strange, he could usually figure out the reactions people would give to certain things he said, depending on how he put them. Yet this Which-crafter continued to surprise him. He continued talking.

"You truly give me no reason to believe you have pure intentions. You ask for information about myself without giving away anything of you, and after I calmly pushed you aside you continue to query my actions." The Which-crafter still gave no response. "You of all people should know the persecution my kind go through simply for the path we follow. If you truly wish to help me, you have yet to make it apparent."

The little girl ran down the street again chasing the very same ball. This time, however, she managed to capture it before it reached Axin, and scuttled off around the corner, back to her friends. The young were so innocent at heart. It would be many years before they realised how cruel this world could be. As much as his feelings may sound like pity, deep down, Axin envied their carefree lifestyles, and part of him knew it.