Closed Trickster

[Baird]

21st Fall 512 A.V.
Dusk.

It was a good time for hunting.

Syna's rays had already set behind the horizon, leaving Ravok in confusion as it tried to sort between day and night. A pale sort of twilight ruled over the Plaza of Dark Delights. Each and every scurrying figure was picked out in sharp relief against this monochromatic background, and the voyeuristic sort, given a good enough vantage point, could watch their every movement easily enough.

Baird watched them for a different reason.

A woman walked along the far side of the Plaza, dressed in the type of clothing that kept the eyes of men upon her as she strutted along. She slowed down a couple of times to give particularly well-dressed watchers a few more seconds to admire her, and then she finally ducked into an aged building that Baird had been informed was known as the House of Immortal Pleasures, for reasons he quickly inferred. A frail-looking man was locking up his store for the night, hands trembling as he tried to work the thick lock. The odd odors he gave off and the strange glint in his eye gave Baird the notion the invalid was more than he appeared. Neither of them, nor any of the other pedestrians over there suited Baird - he moved on.

On the other side, a younger man was swiftly leaving a homely-looking building. Curses and other exclamations harried him on his way out, followed by something that seemed like spit. He yelled right on back in, and the door was slammed shut in his face with a final shout of “You liar!”

Him.

Baird detached himself from the shadows of the building he had taken cover under and started to walk over. The man didn't notice the pale, hard-faced stranger's interest in him and began dusting himself off, a disgusted look on his face as he wiped the spittle off his cheek. A soft laugh was heard from the other side of the Plaza, and the man, now turning red, turned curtly and walked away.

He ambled through the plazas, over docks and bridges, working his way towards some tavern or some other likely location. Baird trailed behind him through every twist and turn, patiently working his way closer and closer with every passing chime. While not the most proficient tracker, Baird had learned enough from his time spent out in the wildlands, and the liar was none the wiser.

Finally, Baird's target took a shortcut between two buildings, and the tracker felt something stir in his stomach. They were alone. The journey had taken then all the way from the Plaza of Dark Delights to the Nitrozian Plaza, but finally it was just them two. Baird's mercenary instincts told him this was the perfect time to strike.

The hunger grew stronger and Baird hurried his pace.

He drew so near he could smell the lying man, who had the ripe aroma of one who had not bathed in a while. Perhaps the liar noticed something was amiss now; he tensed and began to turn around. He looked over his shoulder, clearly hoping to see an empty alley.

“Oh, hello there,” Baird said to the man, who had all of the sudden turned pale. Sometimes, at this crucial moment, Baird would feel a twinge of doubt. Did he really want to do this? What did this make him? And what of the life he was taking? Didn't mother once say all life was sacred? But Baird pushed those doubts out his mind. He had learned early on not to question his compunctions. He only did what he needed to do. And besides, this man would die one day, just like they all did. Just like Baird once had. At least, here and now, his death would profit someone else.

The Chained One smiled to put the other man at ease, and then he stabbed out with the sword he had hidden under his cloak.

Dinnertime.

[Valerius Nitrozian]

The day had been exceptionally busy. A new shipment of animals had been delivered to the Kelvic Research Institution in the morning. The animals had had to be examined, washed and fed. Afterwards his aunt had asked him to help him with one of her experiments. He had been delighted at first because he’d wanted to experiment on a Kelvic since he had started working for her, but unfortunately she’d just needed him to hold the creature down while she operated on it. The thing had almost bit him! After he had finished his work, he’d received a message that a merchant on the other side of the city had an interesting artifact – possibly pre-Valterrian – for sale. It had turned out to be fake though, like most such things. There was not a lot left of the old world. Instead of making a sale, the merchant had suddenly found himself facing the Ebonstryfe. Valerius had called them because he couldn’t stand liars. The merchant would never make a sale again. And finally, shortly before sundown, he had been forced to endure dinner with one of the Valdinox family. The woman had been at least a foot shorter than him and quite ugly with that thick black arm of hers. What more, she had spent the whole time looking at him in a certain fashion even though he had made it obvious that he was not interested in her kind. By the time he had finally been able to get away, it had already been dark. After sunset the city became like a different place. A hint of its dark soul was visible then. The people that walked the streets were different. Valerius found himself watching them with curiosity. It was after all not often that he was walking through the city that late. Most of the time he spent the evenings in the Nitrozian Estate, doing some research. It was colder as well, and the Nitrozian pulled his cloak (that was of fine quality, like all of his clothes) tighter around his body and walked a little faster before he abruptly stopped. Somewhere in front of him he could see movement. He narrowed his eyes. There were two men. At first he thought that they were simply talking, having an argument maybe, but then he noticed that one of the men fell. Valerius furrowed his brow and thought about what he should do now. Call the Ebonstryfe? Confront the murderer and become his second victim in the process? Scream? Run? No, he decided to just stand there, in the shadows, and watch. He had after all never witnessed a murder and wanted to know more. Death, despite the fact that it was often a somewhat messy affair, fascinated him for some reason. He wanted to see what Baird did with his victim.

[Baird]

Baird had gotten far too slow. The liar had half a moment to start screaming before the blade pierced through his heart. The cry died off in a gurgle, and the body slumped to the ground.

He looked down on the body sadly. It was a shame. The man was healthy enough, and all the blood made Baird froth at the bit. But Ravok was just too unsafe to stick around a body for too long – you could never know who was watching. He had to be quick, and dump the body into a canal afterward.

But what a waste...

Baird dropped to his haunches by the body, tenderly picking up and cradling the man like a baby. He tore open the man's tunic, exposing the stab wound beneath. It would work well enough – the injury was just deep and wide enough to suit his purposes. Blood already leaked profusely from it. Baird wrinkled his nose. This part, despite being necessary, never got any easier. Or less disgusting.

He took a moment to steel himself, than buried his face in the man's stomach and began to drink.

He had been going only for a few bells before some instinct tickled the back of Baird's neck. He stopped feeding and lifted his head. That feeling...it was primal, a survival instinct. It was the feeling of being watched. His mouth still bloody, Baird turned to look behind him. He couldn't quite see, given the shadows, but, wasn't that...a second later, the surprise and the fear hit him.

“What the...who the bloody hell are you?”