Forums Home Forum Rules Achaea.com Lore Wiki Vote for Achaea! IronRealms.com
Home› Everything Achaea› The Blank Canvas

FtDot Nagaraja, the sequel.

ChryenthChryenth
edited February 2013 in The Blank Canvas
Because @Jirashin asked me to. Kind of. By which I mean didn't, but I did it anyway.

Also, because I'm a shameless self-promoting thief of characters: @Jurixe, @Tvistor, @Iocun, @Antidas


From the Desk of the Nagaraja, Part II

Jinso was soaked to the bone, water dripping from his hood and from his darkbow. It limited his visibility to a few hundred meters, and doubled the weight of his clothes. He was glad the dyes on his arrows were waterproof, or they'd have long washed off. The street below him was flooded, too - rainwater ran in rivulets down the road. Only three people had been foolhardy enough to brave the storm in the four hours Jinso had been waiting - a mage surrounded by a corona of energy to beat off the rain and two swordsmen who seemed to dance between the raindrops as they fell.

 

Jinso had been sorely tempted to put arrows in their skulls. He was contemplating calling Anteion, the Naga who'd instigated this whole charade, when a snippet of conversation made its way through the rain to his hiding place. Instantly alert, he leaned forwards very, very carefully, and listened.

 

"Ah tell you, Nocui, you're doing us a grand favour." The voice was deep, and had the characteristic drawl of someone who'd spent a great deal of time with the Siroccian Dwarves. A quick mental search and Jinso pinned down the speaker as belonging to Isken, a former Lord of the Wardens. A figure appropriate to guard a sacred relic, or something of similar import. Jinso was a Naga, however, and the patience and paranoia he'd developed over the last fifty years were telling him to wait, and to listen longer.

 

"It's truly nothing, Isken. I'm surprised you asked for help, actually - you seem to have the situation well in hand." A mild voice, calm and collected. Jinso frowned, hard. The name Nocui was familiar, but he couldn't remember where from.

 

Obviously something important, if they're calling in Mojushai as well.

 

The telepathic voice, belonging to the Lord Viston, sounded almost satisfied. Less than a heartbeat later, Jinso realised where he'd heard the name Nocui before. It would be a lie to say his heart sank, because that would have been giving in to weakness, if only for a moment. Instead, he leant back in the shadows and reached for an arrow.

 

Who do we strike first, Nagaraja? The monk or the knight?

 

A reasonable question. No doubt Xie had seen him reach for an arrow, and was looking to notch one of her own.  Did they attack Isken, and risk Nocui getting away? Or did they attack Nocui, and allow Isken, who was certainly on his guard given the situation, to raise the alarm?

 

Jinso decided it was more prudent to limit the number of combatants the opposition could field, and pulled a purple-dyed arrow from its place in his quiver. He started to slip down the side of the building, making no noise as his mhun-leather boots hit the slick cobbles.

 

Isken. Let's not have the place swarmed by Wardens.

 

The mental acknowledgements came thick and fast. Jinso watched with a mixture of pride and professional satisfaction as, unbeknownst to the two Cyreneians walking down the street, six figures emerged from the shadows. Phased from reality, they were distorted by a strange blur that made it impossible to focus on them for more than a split second. Across the street, Xie blinked once in a passionless acknowledgement as she pulled an arrow - blue-dyed, it seemed - from her quiver. Jinso stole a glance down the road as he notched and drew his bow.

 

Lord Viston had taken a position as close his target as possible, and was aiming calmly at the dwarf's head. Anteion had strewn the less experienced Naga down the length of the street, and was soundlessly stalking the two unsuspecting targets as they continued to talk. Jinso raised his bow a little higher, compensating for the rain, and got a good look at Isken for the first time.

 

Isken is carrying something. A box, little larger than a man's hand. Do not put a scratch on it, or Lord Sartan will have your heads.

 

A moment of silence, broken only by the rain falling even heavier for a moment.

 

Fire.

 

The hiss of arrows was a welcome distraction from the rain's pounding. Isken jerked and stumbled as Jinso's arrow took him in the neck, lurched into his companion as Viston's embedded itself in his throat and finally fell to the floor as five other arrows streaked out of the rain-imposed darkness and struck him square on.

 

Nocui's reaction was immaculate. His wrist flickered once, and suddenly Jinso lost track of him. Cursing, he sent another arrow flying through the space he'd last seen the monk occupy - and cured again when it failed to find a mark.

 

Forget him. Secure our prize, and prepare to extract. There was no small amount of bitterness in Jinso's order, and the Naga fell in with a will. Drawing whips and daggers, they emerged from the shadows and surrounded the corpse of the dwarf. Lord Viston kicked the dwarf over, steel-capped boots leaving another gash in the corpse's face.  Jinso deftly took the box from the dead hand that clutched at it, and shook it curiously. It rattled.

 

Gemstones? Unlikely, but not impossible.

 

A strangled cry broke Jinso from his momentary reverie. One of the Naga, a young human whom Jira had mentored for several years, collapsed with an arrow protruding from his torso. His fellows all acted in keeping with the Seven Truths immediately, and dived for the cover of the street sides, leaving their comrade in arms to slowly die.

 

Jinso, in the middle of the street and suddenly exposed, pulled a black-dyed arrow from his quiver. Voyria probably wouldn't kill his opponent, but it might distract him for a moment. He loosed the arrow, and was rewarded with a grunt of pain - followed by the sound of many booted feet, running up the street towards him. He shouldered his bow, not even taking the time to swear, and scaled the face of the nearest building. Pulling himself over the edge and landing adroitly he called out to his housemates.

 

A rabble approaches. Deal with them.

 

Only five acknowledgements returned this time, confirming the death of the fool on the street below. Jinso resolved to have words with him, if the Endbringer didn't decide to keep him this time. He glanced over the lip of the building, idly wondering if he should lend his bow's firepower to the massacre that his minions were perpetrating when he felt a pair of gashes open in his arm.

 

Instantly he fell away, rolling out of range of his attacker. The bleeding had stopped almost instantly - he could feel his moss tattoo tingle - and already the wounds had started to close. He drew his dagger - a needle-pointed stiletto with a serrated edge - and pulled his whip from his belt before spinning around. Predictably, Nocui was stood in a stance almost the mirror image of Jinso's, excepting that he held his dagger at a lower guard.

 

Neither combatant spoke. Jinso had given up making speeches to his adversaries decades ago, preferring instead to perforate them from a distance at which speech was impractical. Closing the distance to his opponent in a series of fluid steps, he lashed out once, twice with his dagger. The first blow was dodged by a deft truck twist, but the second found its mark. Nocui stumbled, and then fell to the floor as Jinso's whip caught his leg, his balance lost to the effects of the venoms Jinso habitually coated his blade with. The Nagaraja gave his opponent no pause, but put a knee on his windpipe as he stabbed the helpless monk repeatedly in the chest. Soon, Nocui was bleeding from a dozen puncture wounds that spurted blood in an unstoppable red tide, limbs locked in paralysis and face a rictus of pain. Jinso took a long look at him, meeting his gaze - not that Nocui could look away, really - and secreted a little more venom from his well-hidden fangs. He knelt down besides the monk and whispered in his ear.

 

"Know Suffering."

 

The look in Nocui's eyes was part hatred, part frustration, part fear. Jinso committed it to memory before sinking his fangs into the man's neck, injecting as much voyria as he could. He then briskly rose and walked away, secretly delighting in the sounds of agony that started to come from behind him.

 

Report, Naga.

 

It was Lord Viston that answered.

 

I think you’ll be most pleased, Nagaraja…

I am the description ninja.

Comments

Sign In or Register to comment.