Post by ivory on Jun 15, 2009 18:20:10 GMT -5
Telamar's hammer fell heavily on the metal stretched out before him. The sharp sound of metal on metal was heard throughout the shop, along with the crackling of the fire from which the blade had just come out of. Another two blows and it was back in there, repeating the process.
He'd just stuck it in there for another round when the door was crashed in. The blow was unexpected, but he hadn't been accepted into the Family just because he was an orphan. He'd been a thief and a paranoid one at that. He went for the kill or serious maim when he found himself in possible danger and he did so now.
Telamar whipped the sword back out of heat and turned around, jabbing the hot edge toward his attacker.
------------------------------
Shark had arrived in Gallica in a fowl mood a few days before. He hated being played like a fool and unable to find anything about Gregory/Leon didn't improve it in the slightest. He'd downed many a brew on his informational visits to the tavern, but where he usually found pleasure in it, his mood only darkened.
An hour ago, he hit jackpot and in a rush, he exited, swinging his axe with glee. Telamar the Blacksmith, was rumored to have come from somewhere that was a nowhere but was once a somewhere three years past. And Shark had known that he was finally closing in on this Gregory/Neol Master desperately wanted dead. Shark now shared Master's passion for that goal.
He kicked in the door of the blacksmith shop with a grunt, grinning evily as it crashed in with only one booted shot from him. He loved one-shot triumphs more than brandy.
A curse exited his mouth when the hot metal came rushing toward him, but anger didn't run through his veins. A thrilling excitement was there instead. He brought his axe down in an arc, slamming the blade into that of Telamar's hard enough to make it go wide. He sneered as sparks flew off the hot metal and burned into his hands and arms. The pain that was dealt to himself was just as exciting as the pain he dealt to his opponent. It made it more challenging. The knife cut in his arm from that pest of a girl, was now only another challenge.
---------------------------------
Telamar didn't try to stop the forced course of his blade, instead twirling with it and bringing his back leg up as he did so to slam the hell into the man's side. He completed the rest of the spin quickly, facing his opponent head-on once again and with his cooling work up to defend.
----------------------------------
Shark grunted with the force of the blow to his side and half-suprised he staggered half a step in that direction. By the time he righted himself again, his target was already back in a defending position. He smiled at the challenge.
"You're death will be a slow one for my pleasure. But first, you're going to tell me everything about this 'Gregory', 'Noel', or whatever he's called."
He swung his blade low, aiming for a clean cut of a leg.
----------------------------------
Telamar didn't need a description to know who this Gregory/Noel was, but he faked confusion, opening his mouth to ask more when the man aimed for his legs. He jumped over the blade and snapped his left leg out and up, driving the ball of his foot into the man's chin before landing. He then preceded to jab his sword toward Shark's chest even as he thought on the man's words.
How did he know about Galen? It was common knowledge that he was wanted, but hardly anyone actually knew anything about him. There was the occasional mercenary who went looking for him, but no one was ever able to even come close to claiming the prize. Few even knew what he looked like outside of the 'tiger-like' eyes, a trait Galen could turn into a kitten's glee at will, which was usually all the time when he wasn't uh...'working'.
The name's Gregory and Noel weren't secrets considering he used many depending on what country he was currently in. Gregory was for Teutland, Noel for Scandavia, so Telamar concluded that this Skandavian had gotten orders from one of Teutlandt or one very well known with that country.
----------------------------------
Shark went a few steps back as Telamar's foot rammed into his chin, his axe close to dragging on the floor. He shook his head as he did so to clear it and so wasn't ready for the sudden jab to his midsection. He roared at the pain from the jab and managed to bring his axe up to deflect the harsher part of it. Though the blade was cooling, it was far from cool and had also ended up branding the Skandavian, preventing blood from spewing from the half-inch deep wound.
Shark kicked out with one of his powerful feet as he brought his axe racing across in the opposite direction. He wasn't really aiming to hit with his foot, using it only as a distraction for him to ready his axe for another swing - this time in a vertical downward arc to lope off an arm.
-----------------------------
Telamar easily dodged the kick by stepping to the side. He went to jab again when Shark's axe came slicing from above. He cursed as he changed from attack to defense, swinging the blade around to his side as he turned to keep the axe from taking off a limb. He was aware that he was leaving his other side completely open, but there was nothing he could do about it.
-------------------------------
Shark kicked out with his foot again, this time actually aiming to hit and hit hard. He slammed the flat of his shoe into Telamar's side with enough force to stumble back and hopefully push the man off balance. He hardly ever paid attention to his opponent's feetwork and didn't care to change his ways now. Brute force had always worked for him before, why change it?
----------------------------------
Telamar gritted the teeth at the pain in his side, well aware that a rib or two cracked in his attempt to save his arm. And to add to the pain, the force of the kick sent him careening off balance. He'd been a fool when he moved in that way to block the axe's path, setting his feet shoulder width apart and having both facing out. He should've had them perpendicular to each other, but he thought it would've been too awkward considering he was showing his side to the man.
Awkward would've been safer he soon found out as his legs crashed into each other in his feeble attempt to keep his balance. He bit through his tongue when the ground slammed into his uncracked side and sent shockwaves to the cracked side. His work clattered away from him as he fell, but was still within arm's reach and he quickly moved to grasp it again, ignoring the sharp pains in his side.
--------------------------------
Shark grinned mischeviously as the man fell and he took a step toward him in triumph. He slammed his foot into the man's reaching arm, taking pleasure in the feel of crushed bone, but what he really wanted were the screams of pain, panic, and knowledge that he would've live long.
He brought his axe thick into the man's leg, but not quite severing it.
--------------------------------
Telamar bit hard on his tongue to keep from screaming from the crushing blow to his arm, but the basic instinct to do so errupted as solid metal entered his leg.
He screamed. A loud, undying scream that errupted from his very being. He chocked it off after a few seconds, forcing it into a gag, a harsh breathing.
He'd learned well the ways of pain, but had been slow in learning to ignore the pain, to let it not control him. He was part of the Family so he could endure days of torture if need be, but during their practice sessions no one had cut half-way through his leg. He'd lost a toe in such a practice, but it was quickly burned shut. To feel your blood flowing out of you was more torture than the loss of a toe.
But he'd endure it because to he owed them his loyalty, a trait stressed greatly within the Family. Whatever friends or blood-related family members one had were ants compared to that of the Family. And with the stress of loyalty, the stress of the consequences were greater. Galen they all knew, could make a torture session last for years.
----------------------------
Shark left with the information he wanted sixteen hours later. The man had been too hard to break, despite the torture which he'd been given. It was only when he passed into unconsciousness and his dreams took hold had Shark been told what he wanted.
His name was neither Gregory nor Noel, but Galen - a name no one else knew. The head of a secret group of something, he was known as Father amongst the ranks. He knew next to nothing else, but just enough to go on. He'd climb the ladder to the top man and kill him most painfully. Taking a liking to the cruel thoughts, he rubbed his axe with mocking tenderness.
The name wouldn't help him at all, but a group of mercenaries were bound to have a supplier and he'd ask until he found them.
--------------------------------
Telamar eased in and out of unconsciousness, but his thoughts stayed within the unknown. He couldn't seem to know whether he spoke them aloud or not, whether he was betraying his Family though he fought hard too. The pain was overriding his systems, defeating his feeble attempts to win.
A hand touched his shoulder and he looked into the face of a smiling angel. His time was up, he was leaving and joining his family he no longer had. He offered a feeble smile in return and seconds later he was lifted.
-----------------------
Shark made his way down the street, his axe swinging joyfully at his side. A week had passed since the torture of Telamar and he'd just gained his newest piece of information. A source within the Family itself had ratted them out and seeing an opportunity, Shark had decided to let him live.
The deaths he had yearned for had chopped deep into the bodies of two of the Family's informants, or as they called it - the Grandparents for 'retired ones'. But though they were mere Grandparents, neither had the slow reactions of the elderly. Neither were that old to begin with. Logan had been hardly a year over twenty-five and William was no older than he. Both had fought well, cut him deep enough to bleed - Logan on Shark's arm, William on his side. And so both had died with a final blow to the neck.
His sneer of satisfaction at tonight's kill disappeared as he noticed the shadow within the shadows. His fingers gripped his axe more fiercely at the thought of Master coming to see him, but he quickly realized his folly and loosed his grip. Master would never show itself anyways, this person though, was it accomplice, passing stranger, or foe? He waited to see if the shadow would reveal more of itself instead of using his usual tactic of a sudden attack. He'd killed what he wanted tonight, had fun doing it, he could allow one person to pass by unharmed. Maybe.
He'd just stuck it in there for another round when the door was crashed in. The blow was unexpected, but he hadn't been accepted into the Family just because he was an orphan. He'd been a thief and a paranoid one at that. He went for the kill or serious maim when he found himself in possible danger and he did so now.
Telamar whipped the sword back out of heat and turned around, jabbing the hot edge toward his attacker.
------------------------------
Shark had arrived in Gallica in a fowl mood a few days before. He hated being played like a fool and unable to find anything about Gregory/Leon didn't improve it in the slightest. He'd downed many a brew on his informational visits to the tavern, but where he usually found pleasure in it, his mood only darkened.
An hour ago, he hit jackpot and in a rush, he exited, swinging his axe with glee. Telamar the Blacksmith, was rumored to have come from somewhere that was a nowhere but was once a somewhere three years past. And Shark had known that he was finally closing in on this Gregory/Neol Master desperately wanted dead. Shark now shared Master's passion for that goal.
He kicked in the door of the blacksmith shop with a grunt, grinning evily as it crashed in with only one booted shot from him. He loved one-shot triumphs more than brandy.
A curse exited his mouth when the hot metal came rushing toward him, but anger didn't run through his veins. A thrilling excitement was there instead. He brought his axe down in an arc, slamming the blade into that of Telamar's hard enough to make it go wide. He sneered as sparks flew off the hot metal and burned into his hands and arms. The pain that was dealt to himself was just as exciting as the pain he dealt to his opponent. It made it more challenging. The knife cut in his arm from that pest of a girl, was now only another challenge.
---------------------------------
Telamar didn't try to stop the forced course of his blade, instead twirling with it and bringing his back leg up as he did so to slam the hell into the man's side. He completed the rest of the spin quickly, facing his opponent head-on once again and with his cooling work up to defend.
----------------------------------
Shark grunted with the force of the blow to his side and half-suprised he staggered half a step in that direction. By the time he righted himself again, his target was already back in a defending position. He smiled at the challenge.
"You're death will be a slow one for my pleasure. But first, you're going to tell me everything about this 'Gregory', 'Noel', or whatever he's called."
He swung his blade low, aiming for a clean cut of a leg.
----------------------------------
Telamar didn't need a description to know who this Gregory/Noel was, but he faked confusion, opening his mouth to ask more when the man aimed for his legs. He jumped over the blade and snapped his left leg out and up, driving the ball of his foot into the man's chin before landing. He then preceded to jab his sword toward Shark's chest even as he thought on the man's words.
How did he know about Galen? It was common knowledge that he was wanted, but hardly anyone actually knew anything about him. There was the occasional mercenary who went looking for him, but no one was ever able to even come close to claiming the prize. Few even knew what he looked like outside of the 'tiger-like' eyes, a trait Galen could turn into a kitten's glee at will, which was usually all the time when he wasn't uh...'working'.
The name's Gregory and Noel weren't secrets considering he used many depending on what country he was currently in. Gregory was for Teutland, Noel for Scandavia, so Telamar concluded that this Skandavian had gotten orders from one of Teutlandt or one very well known with that country.
----------------------------------
Shark went a few steps back as Telamar's foot rammed into his chin, his axe close to dragging on the floor. He shook his head as he did so to clear it and so wasn't ready for the sudden jab to his midsection. He roared at the pain from the jab and managed to bring his axe up to deflect the harsher part of it. Though the blade was cooling, it was far from cool and had also ended up branding the Skandavian, preventing blood from spewing from the half-inch deep wound.
Shark kicked out with one of his powerful feet as he brought his axe racing across in the opposite direction. He wasn't really aiming to hit with his foot, using it only as a distraction for him to ready his axe for another swing - this time in a vertical downward arc to lope off an arm.
-----------------------------
Telamar easily dodged the kick by stepping to the side. He went to jab again when Shark's axe came slicing from above. He cursed as he changed from attack to defense, swinging the blade around to his side as he turned to keep the axe from taking off a limb. He was aware that he was leaving his other side completely open, but there was nothing he could do about it.
-------------------------------
Shark kicked out with his foot again, this time actually aiming to hit and hit hard. He slammed the flat of his shoe into Telamar's side with enough force to stumble back and hopefully push the man off balance. He hardly ever paid attention to his opponent's feetwork and didn't care to change his ways now. Brute force had always worked for him before, why change it?
----------------------------------
Telamar gritted the teeth at the pain in his side, well aware that a rib or two cracked in his attempt to save his arm. And to add to the pain, the force of the kick sent him careening off balance. He'd been a fool when he moved in that way to block the axe's path, setting his feet shoulder width apart and having both facing out. He should've had them perpendicular to each other, but he thought it would've been too awkward considering he was showing his side to the man.
Awkward would've been safer he soon found out as his legs crashed into each other in his feeble attempt to keep his balance. He bit through his tongue when the ground slammed into his uncracked side and sent shockwaves to the cracked side. His work clattered away from him as he fell, but was still within arm's reach and he quickly moved to grasp it again, ignoring the sharp pains in his side.
--------------------------------
Shark grinned mischeviously as the man fell and he took a step toward him in triumph. He slammed his foot into the man's reaching arm, taking pleasure in the feel of crushed bone, but what he really wanted were the screams of pain, panic, and knowledge that he would've live long.
He brought his axe thick into the man's leg, but not quite severing it.
--------------------------------
Telamar bit hard on his tongue to keep from screaming from the crushing blow to his arm, but the basic instinct to do so errupted as solid metal entered his leg.
He screamed. A loud, undying scream that errupted from his very being. He chocked it off after a few seconds, forcing it into a gag, a harsh breathing.
He'd learned well the ways of pain, but had been slow in learning to ignore the pain, to let it not control him. He was part of the Family so he could endure days of torture if need be, but during their practice sessions no one had cut half-way through his leg. He'd lost a toe in such a practice, but it was quickly burned shut. To feel your blood flowing out of you was more torture than the loss of a toe.
But he'd endure it because to he owed them his loyalty, a trait stressed greatly within the Family. Whatever friends or blood-related family members one had were ants compared to that of the Family. And with the stress of loyalty, the stress of the consequences were greater. Galen they all knew, could make a torture session last for years.
----------------------------
Shark left with the information he wanted sixteen hours later. The man had been too hard to break, despite the torture which he'd been given. It was only when he passed into unconsciousness and his dreams took hold had Shark been told what he wanted.
His name was neither Gregory nor Noel, but Galen - a name no one else knew. The head of a secret group of something, he was known as Father amongst the ranks. He knew next to nothing else, but just enough to go on. He'd climb the ladder to the top man and kill him most painfully. Taking a liking to the cruel thoughts, he rubbed his axe with mocking tenderness.
The name wouldn't help him at all, but a group of mercenaries were bound to have a supplier and he'd ask until he found them.
--------------------------------
Telamar eased in and out of unconsciousness, but his thoughts stayed within the unknown. He couldn't seem to know whether he spoke them aloud or not, whether he was betraying his Family though he fought hard too. The pain was overriding his systems, defeating his feeble attempts to win.
A hand touched his shoulder and he looked into the face of a smiling angel. His time was up, he was leaving and joining his family he no longer had. He offered a feeble smile in return and seconds later he was lifted.
-----------------------
Shark made his way down the street, his axe swinging joyfully at his side. A week had passed since the torture of Telamar and he'd just gained his newest piece of information. A source within the Family itself had ratted them out and seeing an opportunity, Shark had decided to let him live.
The deaths he had yearned for had chopped deep into the bodies of two of the Family's informants, or as they called it - the Grandparents for 'retired ones'. But though they were mere Grandparents, neither had the slow reactions of the elderly. Neither were that old to begin with. Logan had been hardly a year over twenty-five and William was no older than he. Both had fought well, cut him deep enough to bleed - Logan on Shark's arm, William on his side. And so both had died with a final blow to the neck.
His sneer of satisfaction at tonight's kill disappeared as he noticed the shadow within the shadows. His fingers gripped his axe more fiercely at the thought of Master coming to see him, but he quickly realized his folly and loosed his grip. Master would never show itself anyways, this person though, was it accomplice, passing stranger, or foe? He waited to see if the shadow would reveal more of itself instead of using his usual tactic of a sudden attack. He'd killed what he wanted tonight, had fun doing it, he could allow one person to pass by unharmed. Maybe.