Jack's Back [Open]

[John Kalman]

13th day of Fall, 511 AV, early morning. There was another dead body in Sunberth. Normally, no one would really care, but even in the lawless, crime infested city of Sunberth, this one stood out. The man was big, and a few of the passers-by might have recognized him as a leg-breaker for the Daggerhand syndicate. Leaning back against the lamp post like he was, he would look like he'd just gotten drunk again and decided to sit down, if not for the fact that his guts were spread across the ground around his feet. His chest was a mass of long, shallow cuts, and his arms had been carefully skinned. Anyone with the stomach to get closer would see that the only thing keeping him sitting upright was a piece of rope lashed round his neck and tied to the lamp post. Placed between his outstretched feet was a piece of paper, pinned at the edges to his trouser legs, fluttering slightly in the dusty breeze. Written in a shaky hand were the simple words, "Jack's back." Late the previous night "I know you can still feel this. You weren't that drunk,and I can still feel you scrabbling away in there, looking for a way out. You should probably give up. The more you fight me, the more ideas I get for the next one. But then, you won't be here to see it, will you? Never mind then, keep fighting." Edgar Hauss was talking to himself in a voice that wasn't his. An hour ago, he had reeked of ale. Now, the smell of his own blood covered it up, dribbling at an alarming rate from the fresh cuts on his chest. Very carefully, he set about peeling the skin off of his own arms. He paused every once in a while to look at the rat sitting between his feet. "What do you think, Crook? Does that look about right to you?" A pause. "That's what I thought, but if I make him skin his hands, then the knife will get slippery, and then what will we do?" He paused again. "No, you can't eat his eyeball. Because you're dead, and dead people aren't supposed to get hungry. Yes, I know what I'm talking about. No. No, don't argue with me, or you can find your own pocket to ride around in." The rat just twitched his whiskers as Edgar methodically stabbed himself in the belly and started sawing his stomach open like he was cutting a particularly tough pice of steak. "We're almost done, Edgar. Another minute or two, and you'll be a work of art. My best to date, if I say so myself. You should feel proud." Edgar set the knife on the ground beside him and sank both hands in his open belly without so much as a flinch. He piled his intestines by his feet, poking at them a bit, arranging them to display them in all their revolting glory. "That will have to do. You're about to die on me, so we'll have to wrap this up." As quickly as his shaking hands would work, he pinned a piece of paper to his trouser legs and picked up the piece of rope on the ground. "I doubt that you would be able to make it to anyone who could save you, but we can't take that chance." As he was tying the rope around his own neck and the lamp post behind him, Edgar's skin was already shockingly pale, the pool of blood around him steadily growing. "There we go." A satisfied look cross Edgar's face moments before the pale form of a skinny little man stood up out of his body. Edgar, the real Edgar, immediately started pawing at his belly, as though trying desperately to put the pieces back in, but the rope at his neck kept him in place. "Edgar, do you know your family history very well? Your grandfather was one of the people who hanged me. I would have liked to do this to him, but your father killed him years ago then went and drank himself to death, so you're the only one left. Oh look, you went and died of shock. Oh well. Let's go, Crook." As the ghostly rat climbed his leg and scurried into the pocket of his dusty jacket, the killer bent down over the knife he had made Edgar kill himself with. "Okay, Jack. You can do this. Soulmisting, or whatever they call it. Gotta practice sooner or later" Wrapping his ghostly fingers around the handle, he visibly strained, struggling to lift the blade. Anyone watching would have seen a ghost who looked like he was giving himself a hernia, trying to drag away a small knife. No one was watching, but if they were, they might have ended up like Edgar, just for the sake of maintaining the reputation of Smiling Jack.

[Mok]

Mok silently walked through the streets of Sunberth. As usual, Mok was cloaked in the black shadowsilk trademarked by the Crimson Edge. Events passed normally enough for a morning in Sunberth, but the myrian smelled something different in the air. At first, he thought it was simply the autumn winds blowing the salty ocean air deeper into the valley, but it would turn out to be something much more sinister.

Eventually, the warrior reached the location of Smiling Jack’s murder. Some people ignored the gruesome body on the street, but most of the Sunberthians stood at a distance and stared. Immediately, Mok pushed his way through the crowd to get a closer view of the carcass. The man had been garroted and quartered. Without hesitating, the myrian walked straight up to the body to investigate further. Whoever killed this man was a master executioner. Not only was the man tortured and quartered silently, it also seemed that no one witnessed the gruesome act.

Next, Mok noticed a piece of paper with words written on it. Looking around one shoulder, the warrior grabbed the note and shoved in his pocket. The myrian could not read, but someone back at the hideout would be able to tell him what the note meant. Now, he needed to identify the body. Mok then started to pull up the man’s sleeves up to find any type of markings or tattoos. After a few moments he found exactly what he wanted to see: a Daggerhand syndicate marking. ‘Lhex’s balls! I need to figure out who the hell did kill this son of a bitch as soon as possible,’ the myrian thought to himself.

Mok now felt several emotions at once; anxiety, excitement, blood lust. This could turn out to be the Crimson Edge’s big chance to play their hand in the game. Two warring syndicates could give ample opportunity for the Crimson Edge to sneak in a take advantage of the situation. Or they could even use the body of the murdered Daggerhand to plot and scheme. Mok had everything worked out perfect. ‘Success is guaranteed.’ he began to think to himself.

A moment before he lunged forward for the dead body he froze. Something was off. Quietly the myrian stood straight again and stared at the body a second longer. He suddenly realized that he was off on his judgment. He was incorrect! He was being a coward. “I will deliver the first blow in this war. No deception.” Mok mumbled to himself.

He picked up the dead body. The myrian was going to dispose of the body before anyone could find it. Afterwards he would decipher the note.

~**~

Red = Myrian
Bold = Common

[Dag'amar]

Dag’amar paced through the dark streets like a caged tiger. The past nights had been uneventful and her desire to journey to Ravok had been making her snappish and ill tempered as she felt cooped up and crushed.
Her feet led her through the streets her scowl a testament to anyone that she was up to no good.
In a foul temper she spotted a scene of interest. Silently she made her way through the crowd just in time to see a man shove something into his pocket and then pick up a bloody body, and walk away leaving the man’s entrails on the hard ground.
She gazed at the skinned mans limp arms, the body was covered with cuts and she found herself admiring the handiwork with a critical eye.

What she didn’t understand, and what she wanted to know was why the body was being taken away in such haste. Dag’amar wanted to know, she wanted to know all the dark secrets, and right in front of he there was one worth looking into.
Under normal circumstances she would have minded her own business like every sane Sunberth dweller, but her time was up in this city and she needed to know. The more she knew the more she would be valuable to The Black Sun.

She stood straighter, caught up with the dark haired man and tapped the man’s shoulder and asked smoothly “Friend of yours?” gesturing to the corpse, her voice half quizzical and half accusatory.

[Mok]

The warrior glanced over his shoulder only to see a woman walk directly towards him. This made the myrian snarl in annoyance. He didn’t have time for any stupid bull shit. If she was affiliated with one of the other Firms then Mok would have no choice but to kill her. Either way, Mok had no way to dispatch the woman silently. Quickly, Mok moved into the corner of a dark alley, stopping the moment the woman touched his shoulder. The calm warrior dropped the body onto the floor. Suddenly, with great velocity Mok spun around flashing his gladius towards the position of the woman. Scanning his opponent, the myrian looked head to toe for any markings from a Firm.

Nothing.

Foolishly, Mok lowered his guard slightly. He had just committed the capital sin; for a breath moment his swords guard was completely slack. A skilled swordsman would be able read it and strike precisely when most vulnerable.

This woman intrigued Mok immensely. In only moments of knowing her the myrian wanted to know more of her immediately. This was the first time in his life that he was curious about another person. Her face reminded him of a myrian female from the jungles of Taloba, but something was wrong about it. She wasn’t myrian, but her demeanor and tone of voice brought him thoughts of home.

Snarling again Mok gazed at the woman further and decided to answer in mocking myrian demeanor, “Save me woman. Please believe me. I’ll promise you anything.”

Smiling Mok looked the woman again up and down scanning her attractive body. ‘NO! Lhex’s balls,’ Mok thought himself, ‘I have no time for nonsense. I drank damn too much this morning. I can not fuck this up.’ Suddenly, Mok became angry again and growled at the woman. Whether or not she had finished her reply, the half-blood began to question her further, with no regard to her response.

“Who are you and why shouldn’t I strike you down now?”

oocI guess I'll just post, I think it would seem more natural if Jack just re-entered the story when he thought was necessary.

Red = Myrian
Bold = Common

[Dag'amar]

Dag’amar didn’t even flinch as the big man with surprising speed threatened her with his weapon. She remained impassive her unnaturally orange eyes fixed on the warrior though she was balancing on the balls oh her feet, knees slightly bent and ready to spring should the situation rise.
Dag’amar had no skills with daggers and such, but she didn’t play fair anyway, her blade was poisoned. But she would not risk a physical outcome tough she didn’t relax her muscles when he lowered his guard.

She noticed his looks, and used them, as always to her advantage moving slightly closer her eyes tracing the cuts on the corpse bending down slightly ignoring his first mocking sentence, giving a brief glimpse of cleavage.
Then stepped back softly looking at him straight in the eyes as if she hadn’t heard his vicious tone or questions.

She let a second pass before answering “I’m Dag’amar” she said opting for the truth, then she let her voice drop reflecting his anger hissing through her teeth though she made no intimidating move “because that would be a wrong move, man!”
She softened her tone somewhat “this is my business as much as yours, why?” She smiled and hardened her tone again “because I like it that way.”

She pointed at the body showing no squeamishness saying slowly and calmly “I repeat, friend of yours?”

[Mok]

Spitting on the floor, Mok wiped his lips and took a moment before giving answer to the woman. He looked straight into the woman’s eyes and she was definitely sincere about her demands. ‘I am a grown man, I do not need to answer to you,’ Mok told himself, ‘I should just end your life now. It is the safest thing to do…but…’

The myrian raised his sword high and stared into Dag’amar’s soul. His mouth began to salivate. “Dag’amar. I do not need to answer to you. But, I will. This carcass is none of your concern. He was killed by one for an unknown reason. I am simply here to deal with this problem,” the warrior paused for a moment to gauge the woman body language, “I do not have time to mess around woman. I must be on my way.”

The warrior reached down to pick up the corpse again but stopped suddenly and looked at the woman again, “I suggest that you do not follow me. If you do, understand that you will be killed. If not today then tomorrow. If not tomorrow, then another day. I have already chosen this path, but it is not yours.” Grabbing the bloody corpse and throwing it over his shoulder, Mok began to walk down the ally away from Dag'amar. The myrian left nothing to chance though; his gladius was close to his tunic ready for any surprises he might encounter.

Red = Myrian
Bold = Common

[Dag'amar]

Dag’amr scowled for a moment, her eyes narrowing becoming orange slits in her angered face, and then her expression went blank as she hid her anger and indignation under an apparent calm face.

Then, she changed,widening her eyes, her voice pleading “Please, I need to know” She sniffed helplessly; she touched her hair nervously distracting attention from her other hand which she kept close and ready near her dagger. “I need to know” She repeated plaintively.
“Please” she cried in anguish “I can help, any price, I need to know” She opened her mouth as he turned “Besides, you could need help, people like my have...freinds” She pushed her luck “What’s written on the piece of paper?” She took a step forward “I don’t care about being killed, it wont happen, nobody with any sense would dare…” She said her tone indicating he shouldn’t even try. She was counting on her words because in truth she had no skills with blades, she was climbing mirrors.

She was getting bolder these days, imagining herself coming back blessed by her god, imagining herself as a member of The Black Sun. She would come back and wreak havoc, she wanted to bring out the worst of people. She craved chaos and wanted only to taint and betray.
Deep down she didn’t care about the corpse or the man but she wanted to be in the middle she wanted to control, she wanted what she loved: pain.

[Mok]

The myrian glared at the woman and spat on the floor. Standing in silence, Mok waited a good time before turning around and responding. The myrian’s facial expression was stern and serious. This was no time for games. “Who the hell do you think you are? This is Sunberth girl. I don’t need to answer to you. You must be delusional. Don’t try me girl. I promise,” Mok spat on the floor, “I promise that things will not end good for you. If you try to get involved, you might be over your head. Your words say that you are prepared, but your eyes tell me that you are green. But. I like you. I value your boldness. This city is full of scumbags and cheaters. I hate that. I hate people who disrespect others. The only punishment in that case is death. You have not disrespected me and I honor that with your life.”

The myrian paused again and stared directly into her eyes. After thinking for a long while the myrian made his final decision, “If you wish to get involved, tell me your name.”

oocSorry for laggin really bad...RL has been hectic

Red = Myrian
Bold = Common

[Dag'amar]

A cog in Dag’amar’s brain clicked into place as she almost sighed in relief. She almost burst out laughing when he talked about honour, he truly didn’t know who he was talking to.
Whatever she had said had worked perfectly; she wore the image of the helpless girl perfectly, even though she knew that girl was hiding somewhere deep down. She would have to smoke her out and strangle her without mercy: the untainted Dag’amar.
His pauses were a good sign if he had wanted to he could have striked her down the first second in which she opened her mouth.

“Good things tend to avoid me…” She said softly tilting her head meeting his stare at an angle “I already told you the first time” She continued seriously “my name is Dag’amar”
She almost hesitated, did he want another name? Maybe he had just assumed that the name she had first given was false, but she stuck to the truth just in case.

She tapped her pocket gesturing at his “What was written on the piece of paper…” she paused not having a name to fill in the end of he sentence “What may your name be?”

[Mok]

Mok looked at the woman and sighed. His words did not get through her thick skull. Picking up the carcass again, Mok flung it over his back and prepared to leave. He left Dag’amar with some final words, “The paper is not for your eyes. As for myself, I am known as Marcus. Don’t let me catch you following me. You have been warned…. I will be seeing you later.”

Walking through the back allies of Sunberth, Mok checked over his shoulder every other minute to make sure no one was following him. Nothing. As far as the myrian knew, Dag’amar was long gone, however the myrian still needed to take precautions. If anyone at all was following him, it would be a huge problem. He needed to be secret and safe. Zig-zagging through all of Sunberth, Mok finally made his way to the docks. There he planned on dumping the body into the sea. The only problem now was choosing the optimal time to do it.


oocAgain sorry for laggin...sorry for the short post...ps... Feel free to follow me secretly

Red = Myrian
Bold = Common