T'was at the final hour of a frigid night when not a star lay visible in the ethereal blanket stretched across the horizon feathered by gray streaks of cloud. There was silence, deathly as a corpse entombed beneath the earth's surface for not a soul walked the streets and oil lamps lay dying in the cool damp air on their respective posts. The village sentinels had merely finished their rounds and the last hovel had diminished its light to nothingness. The whole of Estolad had fallen into slumber save for a single establishment where ale was never scarce and mullets lay rampant in the sale of flesh. It was where drunkards moved about in restlessness, groping what skin excited palms could reach that it might as well be a brothel. The foul stench of aged wine combined with the fumes of sweat leaked from its very walls to be caught by the wind that blew from its exteriors only to be received by a gasp of breath. There where light could not touch and eyes could not pierce was a silhouette marked by sinister mystery. It was the figure of one who stood still in patient wait, of one whose watchful pupils glowed azure in the midst of an eerie blackness.
Standing in a stride upon the cobblestones this certain unnamed phantom kept a keen observance upon Kaima's doors, his fingers fiddling upon the rough texture of a cloth sack purse whose rope-like strings lay dangling upon its sides. With every toss of hand, it would create a tempting noise that would certainly tease the very ears of greed. It was the sound of metallic pieces, prized by any who took pleasure in the face of gold. The man was selecting, as for what, it would soon be revealed.
Many faces have passed and constant were the drunken laughter of males who seemed to have found their most viable choice of readily available entertainment for the evening away from the eyes of their suspicious wives. The man was even disturbed by a pair who had suddenly decided to take the shorter route to physical satisfaction at the very lone pass of darkness where he stood. Breaths came in a vibrant exchange, digits trailing beneath layers of garments, heat swelling in unfolding passions, flesh forcedly pressed against wooden exteriors. A growl and there the silhouette would express his annoyance, inciting innocent fear upon the two who were once lost in the swollen depth of kisses. Unless it is your will of me to participate, then I suggest you find a more suitable location for blatant intimacies His glare seemed to reflect with an unfavorable glint that sent lovers scurrying to an opposing direction, fingers locked and garments held, sheltering what sins were then within tantalizing view.
Eyes returned to the doors it had initially been vigilant upon. The celestial umbra had already spoken that the wee hours of dawn had begun to take its course and that the stranger had been waiting for what seemed like an eternity. It was then when patience had nearly fled from his veins that the view of another man came into the frame of his watch. It was that of a soul who cared not for the pleasures of sold services nor that of one who found intrigue in a pint of ale. It would be the profile of the mercenary that he sought, one sufficiently sober to carry on a meager task sealed in a pouch of gold.
Leather glazed fintertips reached into the purse and with a single swift motion, a thin cylindrical disk representing the coinage of arda would be tossed into the air, swiveling in its gleaming course. A distinct clang between metal and pavement would be heard as the piece found its way to the very edge of the mercenary's sole. There the man's wary senses would be caught off guard, forcing him to shuffle for a moment in order to reach for his silvery blade's pommel. The hired hand was characterized with dark features whose flesh was in the hue of ash and whose orbs were as distinctive as polished emeralds.
"I come not as a threat but a simple benefactor."
The Obsidian Nocturne spoke from his shrouded space, returning a certain reassurance upon the man that allowed him to return his hands unto his sides, confident that vile attempts would come. He would ignore the bribe.
"What am I to purchase with that that I could not acquire on my own. Do not think too cheaply of me for my services come beyond a single gold piece."
The foreigner could have continued his journey had it not been for Von Mortem's revelation of his sinister presence. A cloak may have cast deceiving shadows upon his visage, rendering recognition void of existence but nonetheless it was a certain degree of intimidating composure that seemed to provide the impression of wealth. More coins would be tossed effortlessly with precision towards the cobblestoned path that the man dared to take, forcing upon his jade globes that overwhelming temptation of the first deadly sin, greed. The Nocturne was amused by the stranger's immediate reaction and he could not help but feed his new prey's desires.
" Take them, for they are yours... and if you are to willingly do my bidding then there will be more to come."
Janos, for that was the mercenary's true name, eyed him with curiosity, still somewhat unconvinced by the gesture. The Phantom would merely cast a hidden entertained smirk.
" Count if you are not confident with my words."
The entire cloth sack of gold was then tossed violently for the man's unguarded chest, forcing him to a brief retreat backwards in order to catch the purse and its contents. Ahh if only another being could see the glistening in this lad's eyes as he sells his soul to Raku's mercy. Melandro thought to himself for though his task was simple...
"Take this sheet of parchment to the temple of darkness. Ask for it to be delivered to the lady of the castle and merely state that it came from a friend."
... the price of a god's wrath could be beyond what this mortal could bear.