Advertise/Affiliate Other Forum Main Page The World Before You Play

A Job messily Done

Started by Griffin, March 26, 2017, 05:42:37 AM

Previous topic - Next topic

0 Members and 1 Guest are viewing this topic.

Griffin

Adjusting his mask, he had to admit, this was not one of his cleaner kills. No matter, the guy was dead, and Solomon was alive, even if they both fell off the top of a building.

Making sure not to leave any trace marks, he pocketed the Iron necklace he was hired to 'pick-up'. This Guy just so happened to be a Second-rate thief that got in the way. At least now the poor's Jewellery was safe, thought Solomon sarcastically.

Surprisingly enough, not a single person heard the ruckus or was too scared to leave their homes. He sighed, this Civil war was getting to everyone. Even He had to rely more on the contracts just to keep he and his master- Blissfully unaware of his night-life- in the lifestyle they had grown accustomed to, though he had to lower his prices severely.

Now, without any faltering, he left the flesh-sack of broken bones where it was and made his way to the Inn, where he usually went to receive his Reward for completing these contracts.

RaiKask

   A gruff looking man made his way up to the Inn, a sort of sigh of relief at seeing the establishment where he could grab something to drink. Sitting upon his shoulder was a small little pixie, the magical creature tugging at his ear.

   "Yeah yeah, I know, just keep out of sight alright?" The man said, lightly shoving the pixie into the folds of his cloak. He pushed the door in open, making his way towards a table near the back after ording a bottle of rum, receiving the bottle and a glass. He poured a glass of it for himself, taking a large sip of it before putting it down. Taking a quick glance around to make sure no one was watching, he dipped his finger into his drink, moving the wettened appendage into his cloak, the pixie hidden inside gleefully licking the moisture off, that being all it needed to be satisfied for the night. It was his price for keeping the little thing around, but its magic had proven to be priceless when trapping.

Griffin

Solomon took the alleyways through the town, trying not to be seen. His Master had no idea of his outings, but was very popular, and might hear about it from his customers. Anyone who met him before would recognize him under the mask instantly.

Taking off his mentioned mask, he stowed it inside his shirt, the cool metal tingling his skin.It would be rude to walk into a Public place with it. Not to mention the odd looks from the city folk and recognition from the guards looking for Spectyre.

Inside the Inn, a jaunty place ironically named the Witch's Brew, it was surprisingly quiet. All this Civil war had to be getting to people. No one even acknowledged his existence.

Gravitating to his seat, he sat down and surveyed the area. It was the Usual Bar heap. A pair were coming on to the Barmaiden, someone had passed out in his own bile, and a guy was sticking his finger in his drink. Same old. No sign of his client.

Wait. Solomon focussed on the Man with the Finger in the rum. No, he had never seen him around here before. And why was he wiping his finger on his cloak to remove the rum? Just put it in your mouth!

Usually he liked to keep to himself, but something was off about this man. He was no Mordecai -Solomon mentally spat at the word- But he sensed the supernatural.

Sipping his drink, he waited for his client, watching the Man all the while.

Tags: