Post by blythe on Mar 3, 2010 1:44:39 GMT -6
PercivalVizharen
Days had passed since their arrival in Italy, and the trip to Rome couldn't have gone any slower. First it was rain, then a blizzard; now.. the Banshee and he found themselves put back to back as armed theives circled them with swords drawn.-- "I'm gonna gut you, missus.. after I'm through with you.." One man warned the Banshee, tossing his knife from one hand to another. Percival smirked and produced his pistol. It clicked when his hand was stretched out, and fired in the same instance. That man's head exploded in a brilliant display of blood and gore, leaving a trail of red in its wake as the body toppled to the ground. Smoke lingered around the barrel of the pistol before Percival brought it back. This left the Banshee to defend whilst he casually reloaded in the midst of this human debacle.
The Bean Shidh
The words of the man caused a vile little smirk to slither its way over Blythe's lips. He was going to gut her? When he was through with her? That was all but laughable. When the man's head was suddenly just gone that redheaded wraith was all business. When they'd been ensnared by the thieves, it had been a certainty that Blythe's weaponry had been produced rather quickly. It was per her usual -- in her left hand was held a long knife while the right wielded her rapier with an expertise rarely seen in a woman. Back to back as they were, Percival would hear his travelling companion rather than seeing her move. Even then she was near-silent. Her defense came with ease and in the form of the lashing of the left hand to catch the attention of the thief nearest to her. Her rapier would sing forward in an upward thrust toward the man's gullet, through his neck and out the back, all in one smooth movement. Knowing rather than seeing that her comrade was reloading, the Banshee was in motion again, fluidly letting the moment guide her in order to dance a lethal piece around Talon and between him and the thieves to draw the coming attempted blows toward herself in order to buy the time needed, which she knew would not be long at all.
PercivalVizharen
A second shot cracked loud through the woods, echoing as the flash of orange signified he had fired again. Much to the same, a man's head exploded in a similar display like the one before. Percival was desensitized to it, just going through the motions. The Banshee had nearly killed them all save one, following the dispatch of his latest target. The male rushed, going at the Banshee's backside to slip his blade into her back. He failed because Percival intercepted him. Stepping into his path, Percival gripped the barrel his pistol so that he could utilize the curve of the iron pistol grip. Ensnaring the man's sword was no easy task, but Percival made it look natural. He parried, stepping forward with his weight baring leg while his free hand went wide to eject a blade from his bracer. The blade was a shiny silver by looks, but clearly it was made of some other material. It came up between his fingers, and Percival clenched his fist, upper cutting the man in the stomach. The blade penetrated his gut, and the pain made him drop his parried sword. Percival stood there, staring at the man's face, his own expression blank as the thief regurgitated blood. Almost as sudden as he had intercepted and dealt the man his fatal blow, Percival turned to let him fall. His hair and cape snapping in motion behind him. The blade snapped back into place and he glanced to the Banshee. His eyes were wild and feral, but his expression was completely blank. "Loot them."
The Bean Shidh
Two things happened when the man made his move to dispatch the woman. Blythe first heard his movements at the same instant that Percival moved in to intercept him. Then she actually ceased moving altogether. There was a sort of trust which she had in the man who had fought at her side before and even now, a trust that seemed to come more easily toward him than most others. There was nothing more from her until she heard the gurgling of the deathblow dealt by the madman who shared in her thrill of death. At that point, the small form of the woman turned a half-circle in order to cast her equally maddened gaze toward the Talon from o'er her shoulder. His words garnered no response from the Banshee other than her form soon setting itself into motion. Each blade was returned to its home upon her person while she stepped toward the fallen man nearest to her. Dyed and weathered wool pooled around the woman's presence as she knelt and began to rifle through the clothing of the body, pulling free whatever she found. If it warranted a glance, she'd give it a look-see. If it jingled like coinage, it was pocketed into her pouch without a second thought. Once the first was looted, she moved to the next, and so on and so forth until all had been thoroughly groped and lightened of their loads.
PercivalVizharen
Percival peered over what had been their wagon, now shambles and ruined. "God damn it.." He muttered under his breath. Percival tucked his pistol back beneath the confines of the small cape and turned to watch the Banshee as she finished up. Behind him was the only surviving bit to their trip, a pair of horses frightened and pinned by the arm of the wagon. She was the ranger, she could do that. He had no intention of catching a horse hoove to the face or knee. He waited for her. "The horses are pinned, and frightened.." He told her, lifting his chin and nodding in that direction. "They're our only way out of here. " The thieves had really put a dampener on their time, but at least they were close to Rome.
The Bean Shidh
"God damns most everything he touches." An idle comment made from the normally quiet woman in response. The last thief looted, Blythe rose from her crouch and turned toward the wagon and the horses there. Loot the bodies, free the horses. Gods be damned if he wasn't a demanding man. Then again, the woman didn't seem to mind his words or the intent behind them. It was logical; she had more experience with animals and knew more how to calm them. Regardless to the thoughts that she didn't have, the Banshee was soon in motion toward the wagon and the fear-touched animals. She approached them from their front, each gloved hand raised and a surprisingly soothing voice offered from her otherwise raspy throat. The words were foreign and so lowly-murmured that they wouldn't be made out, even if they could be deciphered. Fingers gently but slowly smoothed against the velvetine noses of the mounts before slowly easing up against each horse's head and down the sides of their necks. It was here that she paused to eye the way the animals were pinned by the arm of the wagon. Once the two were settled enough, she eased her hands down over their sides and stooped some. Her attention went to one and she worked quickly to free the beast of its leather yoke. The second would soon follow. When both were freed, she grasped their leads and turned to lead them away from the mess that had been their transportation.
PercivalVizharen
"Thank you. You've a gift with animals that I have not seen for a very long time." He offered a smile and took one of the leads. Like her, he had busied himself with some looting of his own. He took weaponry, things that could not be pocketed so easily. The weapons were wrapped in coats and capes to protect them from the elements. He held a bundle to his side, and was working on attaching it to his horse's harness. It didn't take him long to prepare to leave, and when he had finished, he hoisted himself upon the horse's back. He wrapped his face to protect from chapped skin, and wore a second pair of gloves to grip the reins. Looking to Blythe, he nodded.
The Bean Shidh
The lead he took was relinquished without protest, her eyes finding his features when she spoke in return. "Animals have been my dearest friends for years. Were you a lesser man, you would have seen what they are truly capable of on the day we met." She didn't explain her words nor would she unless he inquired about them. While he worked to secure the bundle, Blythe had worked to free her mount of extra tethering that wasn't needed in order to ride. The excess was discarded to the ground without a thought and, as soon as she was able, the Banshee hefted herself up onto the back of the animal with the same care and grace which always guided her blades. Only when she was settled there did the woman recover her head with its hood and adjust the cowl in order to cover her face from the nose down. Blues found Percival soon after and his nod was returned. Soundlessly, it was conveyed to the horse to move at last.
PercivalVizharen
Rome. A beautiful marvel of architecture from a time so long extinct, yet everytime Percival saw these structures.. he was left in awe. Truly the quintessential example of ancient society, now commandeered by religious fanatics and historians. It disgusted him.-- Leaning forward, Percival slid off his horse to land on the ground below. It hurt because he had been riding for nearly half a day without rest. It was early evening and business, per usual, was crowding the streets with racket and chatter. Shoulder to shoulder, an intimate way of travel on foot as the soldiers at the gates had Percival and Blythe store their horses in the stables. That had been figured into the equation. Percival passed as a weapons dealer, looking to set up shop in the town. His collection of weaponry was a compiled group of chytty swords and daggers collected from a perilous trip through the country side of Italy. Thieves were good for something. Percival glanced back to make sure the Banshee was close. He understood her distaste for seedy places like Rome, but this was a necessary measure. Percival understood like the Spectre did; the best hiding spots are out in the open.
The Bean Shidh
Blythe had been mentally preparing herself for the arrival in Rome. No, she did not care for cities, and Rome was the largest she'd yet to see. Outwardly, her countenance was stable and even softened as she fell into the role of Percival's wife, as per their agreement. And she was supposed to be a mute as well. The second wouldn't be so hard since she didn't speak often around other people. When she slid from the back of the horse, she feigned a bit of stiffness and a small stretch before making her way toward her comrade. Perhaps it was best that she was playing the role of a wife, a simple and meek woman, because inwardly the crowd was stirring a controlled panic in her soul. Reaching his side, she'd offer those blue eyes up toward him, and even though her face was still mostly covered with the cowl it was clear to anyone looking that she had smiled. That, on its own, was a rarity but the way it warmed her eyes was astonishing. In another life, another time, Blythe had been a much more loving person, and even with so little to see it was clear that it suited her features.
PercivalVizharen
Percival returned the smile with one of his own. It was manicured, like the rest of him, and looked as if it had been something he practiced and perfected over many years. He was a beautiful man, if one could be described as such, and used this to his advantage from time to time. He collected her arm and led her into the city, disappearing into the crowds. Their first stop was a large city square. There was a service going on, a Bishop present amongst many religious church followers. They were chanting in Italian, going on about heretics. Percival stopped for a moment, getting a good view of his surroundings.
Spectre of Faith
And as the Bishop was about to finish his service, his head exploded as a polished silver musket ball exited out his left eye socket, three seconds later, the shot echoed through the air. Not the exact exit Cassus wanted, but there was a slight crosswind. He smiled as the smoke cleared from his hide hole and tossed the gray sheet off and sat there admiring his work. "Peace be with you Bishop..."
The Bean Shidh
Ugh. The air was putrid with judgment from self-righteous hypocrites. Even as they approached the gathering, Percival would feel the Banshee draw nearer to him. It took real restraint for the woman to keep the disgust from entering her eyes. Percival had yet to know the depth to the woman that he traveled with, but Blythe was well-educated despite being a woman. She spoke more than just one language. The heresy spouted from the mouths of the people was truly something that she wished she could cleanse this place of, one person -- one bloody death -- at a time. It would seem, however, that someone would beat her to that first punch. There was a stunned silence that fell hushed over the crowd as confusion set in with the sudden, and albeit stimulating, display that came to pass with the Bishop. The sound cracked through the air seconds later and the ranger's eyes snapped toward the relative direction she thought the blast had come from. She spent her life listening to her surroundings, and blessed be the gods for the hush of confusion that preceeded before the long gun shot. A slight tug was given to Percival's arm in that direction, faint and hardly noticable to anyone except him, but her eyes turned back to him with a sort of fright spilling into them. All for show, rest assured. She waited for her companion's move.
PercivalVizharen
His facade was cast aside at the sound of the gunshot. It was distant, unheard of for ANY musketeer. This narrowed their search down considerably. He hadn't been able to deduce the direction of the shot, but Blythe pulled him. She indicated without words, where she thought it came from. No man or womans' senses were more attuned to surroundings than that of a ranger. He trusted her, and pulled the scope from his belt to snap it to the side, extending it. He peered through, looking in the direction and saw only a shadow of a man sitting up as smoke cleared. He lingered only long enough to push the scope back and let go of the woman's arm. "There! Move!" He said, shouldering past a woman to leap atop a tilted wagon and swing himself up to a patio on the second level of a building. He hoisted himself up with uncanny ease, and moved to the rooftop. Now there were no bystanders, and he could close the distance on his prey. He had no doubt Blythe could keep up.
Spectre of Faith
Cassus calmly went about returning his rifle to the long wooden case. He was more than confident that he was safe for a while. His notes were pulled from a pocket and a match was struck, burning them as he went about clearing out the rest of his equipment. It would take investigators days... if not weeks to determine where the shot had come from, why leave them anything to help track him down.
The Bean Shidh
There would only be an instant that Blythe would wait before she heeded the words of Percival and set herself into motion. So many people... It was unsettling, and with the realization of the Bishop's death said crowd was beginning to stir and panic. It would not take much for the Banshee to follow the Talon toward the wagon, using his bulk to clear the way while she drafted in his wake. He would hit the roof as she hit the wagon, and her form would come scampering up soon after. Whatever warmth had been in her was gone now, and that maddened gaze was returning with the prospect of the hunt and encounter to come. The woman would give no pause in her actions and would soon be running over rooftops, leaping the gaps of alleyways, in order to close the distance. Even with the buildings and the din of the populace, she was amazingly quick in her movements and easily adapted. Eyes kept a view of the distance, though, watching for any change in scenery from one glance to the next.
PercivalVizharen
In their panic, the people blamed the 'couple' for the death of their Bishop. Men, honored by the Church, took up arms to race after the agile pair of warriors. Though weighed down by armor and heavy weaponry, they could not easily access the rooftops. The crowd dispersed in chaos and screams, and the men that pursued the Banshee and Percival were temporarily obscured by the fleeing citizens. The Banshee made it to the roof top before Percival could pull himself up. It spoke volumes of her agility and strength, but Percival was not less able. He grunted and got to a knee before standing. His cape was cast to his back with one arm, and he chased after her with their destination well in sight. He pumped his arms and leapt over the gaps between the buildings. Some required casual jumps, others more effort. When they came within plain view of the Spectre of Rome, Percival took a tumble as he almost missed the ledge of one building. He grunted, and hit his side hard.
Spectre of Faith
The movement across the rooftops caught his attention and for a moment he considered shooting, but instead... he smiled and collected his items, retreating down the stairs into the empty house. Once on the patio, he casually took a seat rifle case propped against the wall and poured three glasses of wine. His wide brimmed hat pulled low limiting his vision as he sat watching the stairs, back against the wall, one hand on the table and the other covered by his cape, waiting patiently.
The Bean Shidh
Running and leaping as she was, Blythe hardly heard the stumbling of Percival but she did hear it. Eyes were torn from the retreating form they were after a second after she watched him disappear into the vacant property. Only then did the Banshee skid to a stop atop the roof, backpedalling in the same instant and almost losing her own balance in the process. There had been little conflict within her about whether she would continue on and leave her companion behind or pause as briefly as she did in order to drag him toward his feet again, which was done rather roughly and without warmth. When it was done, she would pause no longer; Blythe was soon in motion again. At least, that is, until she reached where the man had vanished from her sight. Rapier and long knife found their places within her hands before the ranger, using only her legs to support her and her arms to balance her, made her entrance. She didn't come down those stairs from the rooftop though. Her boots would land hard against the cold ground near the patio. It was here she would pause as briefly as possible in order to gain her bearings on where the man was in relation to where she landed.
PercivalVizharen
Percival appreciated the help, and was tugged up to his feet where he regained some semblance of balance. Blythe's skill in acrobatics surpassed his own, and with each new obstacle, Percival was beginning to feel his age. He watched her leap one way, and he opted to go another. Just as she came to the patio of the abandoned house, the back door splintered open and struck the deck in a fantastic display of strength. Standing in the dying light of a setting sun, Percival heaved, his boots crunching the debris as he stepped into plain view and leveled his pistol with a click. "Spectre of Rome, I presume?" His voice, ragged, was heavy from running almost three hundred yards.
Spectre of Faith
He smiled, cokeing his head to the side. The womans entrance, followed by the mans were expected. He offered a slight nod and took a drink of the wine, motioning to the other glasses. "Sit... drink." His voice held no noticable accent, "I hate to drink alone." his own glass placed to the table as he sat back a bit, free hand pushing the hat brim up just enough to allow him a better field of view.
The Bean Shidh
Blythe would ease forward but not stupidly; her eyes didn't sway from their sights when they found the visage of the man called Spectre, not even when Percival kicked in the door as he had. Blades were held ready, rising and falling only a small bit as her body regained its normal breathing pattern at its own pace. No words came from the woman whose face was only visable in the area of her eyes. Her gaze was fierce and feral. She would remain as she was, letting the leader of this soon-to-be motley crew do the talking.
PercivalVizharen
Percival took a seat reluctantly, easing forward. His pistol remained in his lap, protocol when dealing with someone whose skill surpassed his own. "You were.. expecting us?" He asked, his brow hiked up a bit with a questioning expression.
Spectre of Faith
He smirked a bit and refilled his glass. "I heard rumor there was someone in Rome looking for the Spectre... and the Bishops passing confirmed it. Besides... I hate running... you were good enough to find my position... for that... I drink to you. Not many would dare come after me across open ground... for that... another drink, you show courage and conviction." A drink of wine was taken at each offering. "Now... tell me why you've come to Rome looking for a man who is said to only be a myth."
The Bean Shidh
The only indication of her thought process was a very faint cant of her head to the left while the Banshee listened to Talon ask his question and Spectre answer without protest. How did anyone know that they were looking for this ghost of a man, unless Percival had spoken to someone on the matter prior to his finding and procuring the ranger's assistance. The woman eased some and her blades lowered only a fraction. She would not sit and would not drink with this man until she knew for a fact that he wouldn't move against them, even if his current demeanor was casual-enough.
PercivalVizharen
Percival did not drink. He had been poisoned too many times to fall for that again. Instead, he appeared to relax in his seat, even though sweat beaded over his brow and slowly slid down off his jaw. He listened, his dark eyes burning into the man seated across from him. "I do what is necessary to catch what can't be caught." Percival said, his tone taking on an arrogant ring. "Needless to say, you were just as tough to find as the Bean Shidh." He nodded toward the Banshee. "I'm not here for a matter of law. I intend to ask for your service."
Spectre of Faith
"My service... does not come cheap." He took a moment thinking. "But that can be negotiated later, what exactly do you require me to do?" Free hand moved to a pocket, pulling out a small silver ball, rolling it between his fingers along the table top, "No doubt the... target is of great importance no? And most assuredly evil... otherwise... you both would be sitting with the Bishop in the great here after." Lifting his gaze to Percival, "For some reason... I was not inclined to pick you both off as you ran along the roof tops... and that intrigues me. So... let's have it... sway me to your side my friend."
The Bean Shidh
The smirk of the woman could not be seen, but her very presence seemed to mark it when this man spoke of them being alongside the Bishop in death. That would not happen, at least to her. If she died, it would be in battle, not from the shot of a coward who removed himself from the immediate area in order to kill his foe. That was no matter, though. The heaviness around her actually came from the thought of sharing any sort of afterlife under the loving care of the Christian God, a God who showed more hatred than affection. Should it have come to her death, she surely would have burned in the fires of the hells before ascending to a false Heaven of torment. The Banshee hadn't moved, appearing almost as still as a statue cast of some great hero or demon of legend. She watched though, and she listened very carefully to the men who were speaking.
PercivalVizharen
"I'm Percival Vizharen, a Talon sworn to the survival of humanity and order. Recently, I was assigned to kill an evil man, but he was able to allude me due to some.. " He looked down. "..unfortunate circumstances. Now, this man has retreated to the safety of his secrets. Between he and I are tens of thousands of men, hell bent on pushing the gears of destruction. I can not and will not stand by as this happens. I am collecting a team of the best, to seek him out and kill him."
Spectre of Faith
He sat there, listening to the tale. Another drink of wine was taken, the rolling of the musket ball stopped. "Tens of thousands... All of them would be wishing our deaths..." A soft nod. The hand covered by his cape came out, revealing a double barrelled pistol and placed it on the table. "I said my services do not come cheap Percival Vizharen... once you enter into contract with me... you have me to the death of the target... or my own. I charge something different from each... from you... there are a group of men... they commited a great wrong upon me years ago... I've not been able to right this wrong. I help you, you help me."
The Bean Shidh
So it seemed that Blythe was right not to let her guard down when it came to the man they had tracked down and finally located. However, once the pistol was laid onto the table between himself and Percival, the Banshee finally moved again, but it was only to return her rapier to its leather sheath. The long knife was switched to her right hand but lowered. The contract hadn't technically been sealed between them, so she wouldn't ease fully yet. Spectre's terms were not unfamiliar to her; in fact, they were much the same, in a sense. She too was searching for someone because of a wrong committed toward herself in the years before, and a great many people would probably die in the process of them locating her target.
PercivalVizharen
"Explain your prices, and we can discuss a means to get what you seek. My mission requires the utmost attention, but once we have our team.. I can help you." He said, leaning forward, interested to hear what he had in trade.
Spectre of Faith
"I was raised in the Church by a Priest... he was my father as much as my birth father. The Priest was murdered by fellow Priests... I swore the men would pay for this crime. The Bishop was one of them..." He rolled the silver ball towards Percival. "I have one of those for each man... there are twelve left... all Bishops save the man who commited the murder... Cardinal Gregor Karpov... a favored of the Pope. He will be the harderst to kill. But I intend he get his silver... just as Judas did."
The Bean Shidh
Well, the tale did draw Blythe's attention rather quickly. Once she got past the part about him being raised by a priest and probably being religious in his own sense of the word. That part ... she'd deal with later. The long knife was soon slid into its place and her form was set into motion toward the table at which the men sat. Killing men of the cloth was a favored pasttime for the woman, and the prospect of killing one of the Pope's favored was too much. It demanded that she pay attention closely. Gloved hands rose to pull the cowl down from her features and the hood of her cloak from her head. Those shocking strands of red were disheveled and she didn't seem to care at all. She would sit, each movement as graceful as her leaping from rooftops had been. Blues would rest on the face of the man just as attentively as she did when Percival spoke to her.
PercivalVizharen
"Very well. I'll endeavor to do what I can to help you. We have many paths left to travel, however. Have you a place to stay the evening?" Percival asked, turning to watch Blythe take her place amongst them.
Spectre of Faith
He nodded, "A perk of once being in the graces of the Church.. I know where all the safehouses are... and if those are inaccessable, I have a ship at the docks." Glancing to the woman. "Am I to call her Banshee or does she have a proper name?"
The Bean Shidh
Oh, Blythe would not stay in a house of God or one that was considered a holy hovel either. She'd sleep beneath a tree in a swine's wallow before she did that. That blank face gazed right back still, didn't shift at all until he spoke of what to call her. A small quirk of her head was given and those blue eyes dragged themselves from Spectre's face to rest on Percival's features. Oh, she wanted to spew vile toward the newcomer to the group right now, but she did not answer. There was little to read, but she was amused and wanted to see what her companion spoke on her behalf. Hell, as far as she was concerned the Priest-lover could assume she was truly mute or unworthy to be spoken to directly.
PercivalVizharen
"She goes by Banshee. It's probably best we keep it that way." Percival admitted, looking her way with an appreciative smirk and nod. "I will follow your lead, Spectre. So long as we have an accord." He stretched his hand out.
Spectre of Faith
He nodded, reaching out and taking his hand "Cassus Herron... The Spectre is a name used to strike fear into the very souls of the wicked, your cause is not wicked. I can be ready to leave Rome when you are. You have others to bring into the fold, so I assume you'll be wanting to get under way as soon as possible no?"
The Bean Shidh
The smirk was returned to the Talon before she looked back toward Spectre to watch the clasping and contract be finalized. The words shared were listened to, but Blythe let a hand pick up one of the goblets of wine. It was brought to her nose and sniffed. She didn't drink nor did her voice find the table at long last. The container was merely set back down as if deemed unworthy for consumption. For all she knew it was the sacramental wine or the actual blood of the baby Jesus. Regardless, she wasn't drinking it.
PercivalVizharen
"Aye." He shook his hand and let go. "May we proceed to your ship? We can depart at once, and meet with my ship. We need to return to Skye, our safe haven."
Spectre of Faith
He nodded and stood once his hand had been released. His rifle case was taken in hand as was the silver ball shot and he motioned to the door. "The Revenant awaits." Hat was pulled back down as he headed to the door, pausing a moment. "My oath extends to all those who follow your cause. My loyalty is to all who stand at my side."
The Bean Shidh
When movement began to happen around her, the Banshee raised herself back out of the chair she'd settled in. There was a moment of pause given in order for the woman to actually remove her cold weather coverings in order to turn them, more or less, inside out, changing their color quite effectively from that of the woodlands to a simple black. The hood of the cloak and the cowl that protected her face from the cold were returned to their places and tethered to her form, covering her hair and face once more. As if she couldn't even understand the words the man spoke, Blythe headed toward the door and didn't answer to the words spoken. Her oath was to the Talon, the man who had shown her his prowess and his protection since the day they had met. Spectre had yet to earn her respect, though she had no cause to doubt that he would be loyal to her just as much as he would Percival.
Days had passed since their arrival in Italy, and the trip to Rome couldn't have gone any slower. First it was rain, then a blizzard; now.. the Banshee and he found themselves put back to back as armed theives circled them with swords drawn.-- "I'm gonna gut you, missus.. after I'm through with you.." One man warned the Banshee, tossing his knife from one hand to another. Percival smirked and produced his pistol. It clicked when his hand was stretched out, and fired in the same instance. That man's head exploded in a brilliant display of blood and gore, leaving a trail of red in its wake as the body toppled to the ground. Smoke lingered around the barrel of the pistol before Percival brought it back. This left the Banshee to defend whilst he casually reloaded in the midst of this human debacle.
The Bean Shidh
The words of the man caused a vile little smirk to slither its way over Blythe's lips. He was going to gut her? When he was through with her? That was all but laughable. When the man's head was suddenly just gone that redheaded wraith was all business. When they'd been ensnared by the thieves, it had been a certainty that Blythe's weaponry had been produced rather quickly. It was per her usual -- in her left hand was held a long knife while the right wielded her rapier with an expertise rarely seen in a woman. Back to back as they were, Percival would hear his travelling companion rather than seeing her move. Even then she was near-silent. Her defense came with ease and in the form of the lashing of the left hand to catch the attention of the thief nearest to her. Her rapier would sing forward in an upward thrust toward the man's gullet, through his neck and out the back, all in one smooth movement. Knowing rather than seeing that her comrade was reloading, the Banshee was in motion again, fluidly letting the moment guide her in order to dance a lethal piece around Talon and between him and the thieves to draw the coming attempted blows toward herself in order to buy the time needed, which she knew would not be long at all.
PercivalVizharen
A second shot cracked loud through the woods, echoing as the flash of orange signified he had fired again. Much to the same, a man's head exploded in a similar display like the one before. Percival was desensitized to it, just going through the motions. The Banshee had nearly killed them all save one, following the dispatch of his latest target. The male rushed, going at the Banshee's backside to slip his blade into her back. He failed because Percival intercepted him. Stepping into his path, Percival gripped the barrel his pistol so that he could utilize the curve of the iron pistol grip. Ensnaring the man's sword was no easy task, but Percival made it look natural. He parried, stepping forward with his weight baring leg while his free hand went wide to eject a blade from his bracer. The blade was a shiny silver by looks, but clearly it was made of some other material. It came up between his fingers, and Percival clenched his fist, upper cutting the man in the stomach. The blade penetrated his gut, and the pain made him drop his parried sword. Percival stood there, staring at the man's face, his own expression blank as the thief regurgitated blood. Almost as sudden as he had intercepted and dealt the man his fatal blow, Percival turned to let him fall. His hair and cape snapping in motion behind him. The blade snapped back into place and he glanced to the Banshee. His eyes were wild and feral, but his expression was completely blank. "Loot them."
The Bean Shidh
Two things happened when the man made his move to dispatch the woman. Blythe first heard his movements at the same instant that Percival moved in to intercept him. Then she actually ceased moving altogether. There was a sort of trust which she had in the man who had fought at her side before and even now, a trust that seemed to come more easily toward him than most others. There was nothing more from her until she heard the gurgling of the deathblow dealt by the madman who shared in her thrill of death. At that point, the small form of the woman turned a half-circle in order to cast her equally maddened gaze toward the Talon from o'er her shoulder. His words garnered no response from the Banshee other than her form soon setting itself into motion. Each blade was returned to its home upon her person while she stepped toward the fallen man nearest to her. Dyed and weathered wool pooled around the woman's presence as she knelt and began to rifle through the clothing of the body, pulling free whatever she found. If it warranted a glance, she'd give it a look-see. If it jingled like coinage, it was pocketed into her pouch without a second thought. Once the first was looted, she moved to the next, and so on and so forth until all had been thoroughly groped and lightened of their loads.
PercivalVizharen
Percival peered over what had been their wagon, now shambles and ruined. "God damn it.." He muttered under his breath. Percival tucked his pistol back beneath the confines of the small cape and turned to watch the Banshee as she finished up. Behind him was the only surviving bit to their trip, a pair of horses frightened and pinned by the arm of the wagon. She was the ranger, she could do that. He had no intention of catching a horse hoove to the face or knee. He waited for her. "The horses are pinned, and frightened.." He told her, lifting his chin and nodding in that direction. "They're our only way out of here. " The thieves had really put a dampener on their time, but at least they were close to Rome.
The Bean Shidh
"God damns most everything he touches." An idle comment made from the normally quiet woman in response. The last thief looted, Blythe rose from her crouch and turned toward the wagon and the horses there. Loot the bodies, free the horses. Gods be damned if he wasn't a demanding man. Then again, the woman didn't seem to mind his words or the intent behind them. It was logical; she had more experience with animals and knew more how to calm them. Regardless to the thoughts that she didn't have, the Banshee was soon in motion toward the wagon and the fear-touched animals. She approached them from their front, each gloved hand raised and a surprisingly soothing voice offered from her otherwise raspy throat. The words were foreign and so lowly-murmured that they wouldn't be made out, even if they could be deciphered. Fingers gently but slowly smoothed against the velvetine noses of the mounts before slowly easing up against each horse's head and down the sides of their necks. It was here that she paused to eye the way the animals were pinned by the arm of the wagon. Once the two were settled enough, she eased her hands down over their sides and stooped some. Her attention went to one and she worked quickly to free the beast of its leather yoke. The second would soon follow. When both were freed, she grasped their leads and turned to lead them away from the mess that had been their transportation.
PercivalVizharen
"Thank you. You've a gift with animals that I have not seen for a very long time." He offered a smile and took one of the leads. Like her, he had busied himself with some looting of his own. He took weaponry, things that could not be pocketed so easily. The weapons were wrapped in coats and capes to protect them from the elements. He held a bundle to his side, and was working on attaching it to his horse's harness. It didn't take him long to prepare to leave, and when he had finished, he hoisted himself upon the horse's back. He wrapped his face to protect from chapped skin, and wore a second pair of gloves to grip the reins. Looking to Blythe, he nodded.
The Bean Shidh
The lead he took was relinquished without protest, her eyes finding his features when she spoke in return. "Animals have been my dearest friends for years. Were you a lesser man, you would have seen what they are truly capable of on the day we met." She didn't explain her words nor would she unless he inquired about them. While he worked to secure the bundle, Blythe had worked to free her mount of extra tethering that wasn't needed in order to ride. The excess was discarded to the ground without a thought and, as soon as she was able, the Banshee hefted herself up onto the back of the animal with the same care and grace which always guided her blades. Only when she was settled there did the woman recover her head with its hood and adjust the cowl in order to cover her face from the nose down. Blues found Percival soon after and his nod was returned. Soundlessly, it was conveyed to the horse to move at last.
--------------------------------------------
PercivalVizharen
Rome. A beautiful marvel of architecture from a time so long extinct, yet everytime Percival saw these structures.. he was left in awe. Truly the quintessential example of ancient society, now commandeered by religious fanatics and historians. It disgusted him.-- Leaning forward, Percival slid off his horse to land on the ground below. It hurt because he had been riding for nearly half a day without rest. It was early evening and business, per usual, was crowding the streets with racket and chatter. Shoulder to shoulder, an intimate way of travel on foot as the soldiers at the gates had Percival and Blythe store their horses in the stables. That had been figured into the equation. Percival passed as a weapons dealer, looking to set up shop in the town. His collection of weaponry was a compiled group of chytty swords and daggers collected from a perilous trip through the country side of Italy. Thieves were good for something. Percival glanced back to make sure the Banshee was close. He understood her distaste for seedy places like Rome, but this was a necessary measure. Percival understood like the Spectre did; the best hiding spots are out in the open.
The Bean Shidh
Blythe had been mentally preparing herself for the arrival in Rome. No, she did not care for cities, and Rome was the largest she'd yet to see. Outwardly, her countenance was stable and even softened as she fell into the role of Percival's wife, as per their agreement. And she was supposed to be a mute as well. The second wouldn't be so hard since she didn't speak often around other people. When she slid from the back of the horse, she feigned a bit of stiffness and a small stretch before making her way toward her comrade. Perhaps it was best that she was playing the role of a wife, a simple and meek woman, because inwardly the crowd was stirring a controlled panic in her soul. Reaching his side, she'd offer those blue eyes up toward him, and even though her face was still mostly covered with the cowl it was clear to anyone looking that she had smiled. That, on its own, was a rarity but the way it warmed her eyes was astonishing. In another life, another time, Blythe had been a much more loving person, and even with so little to see it was clear that it suited her features.
PercivalVizharen
Percival returned the smile with one of his own. It was manicured, like the rest of him, and looked as if it had been something he practiced and perfected over many years. He was a beautiful man, if one could be described as such, and used this to his advantage from time to time. He collected her arm and led her into the city, disappearing into the crowds. Their first stop was a large city square. There was a service going on, a Bishop present amongst many religious church followers. They were chanting in Italian, going on about heretics. Percival stopped for a moment, getting a good view of his surroundings.
Spectre of Faith
And as the Bishop was about to finish his service, his head exploded as a polished silver musket ball exited out his left eye socket, three seconds later, the shot echoed through the air. Not the exact exit Cassus wanted, but there was a slight crosswind. He smiled as the smoke cleared from his hide hole and tossed the gray sheet off and sat there admiring his work. "Peace be with you Bishop..."
The Bean Shidh
Ugh. The air was putrid with judgment from self-righteous hypocrites. Even as they approached the gathering, Percival would feel the Banshee draw nearer to him. It took real restraint for the woman to keep the disgust from entering her eyes. Percival had yet to know the depth to the woman that he traveled with, but Blythe was well-educated despite being a woman. She spoke more than just one language. The heresy spouted from the mouths of the people was truly something that she wished she could cleanse this place of, one person -- one bloody death -- at a time. It would seem, however, that someone would beat her to that first punch. There was a stunned silence that fell hushed over the crowd as confusion set in with the sudden, and albeit stimulating, display that came to pass with the Bishop. The sound cracked through the air seconds later and the ranger's eyes snapped toward the relative direction she thought the blast had come from. She spent her life listening to her surroundings, and blessed be the gods for the hush of confusion that preceeded before the long gun shot. A slight tug was given to Percival's arm in that direction, faint and hardly noticable to anyone except him, but her eyes turned back to him with a sort of fright spilling into them. All for show, rest assured. She waited for her companion's move.
PercivalVizharen
His facade was cast aside at the sound of the gunshot. It was distant, unheard of for ANY musketeer. This narrowed their search down considerably. He hadn't been able to deduce the direction of the shot, but Blythe pulled him. She indicated without words, where she thought it came from. No man or womans' senses were more attuned to surroundings than that of a ranger. He trusted her, and pulled the scope from his belt to snap it to the side, extending it. He peered through, looking in the direction and saw only a shadow of a man sitting up as smoke cleared. He lingered only long enough to push the scope back and let go of the woman's arm. "There! Move!" He said, shouldering past a woman to leap atop a tilted wagon and swing himself up to a patio on the second level of a building. He hoisted himself up with uncanny ease, and moved to the rooftop. Now there were no bystanders, and he could close the distance on his prey. He had no doubt Blythe could keep up.
Spectre of Faith
Cassus calmly went about returning his rifle to the long wooden case. He was more than confident that he was safe for a while. His notes were pulled from a pocket and a match was struck, burning them as he went about clearing out the rest of his equipment. It would take investigators days... if not weeks to determine where the shot had come from, why leave them anything to help track him down.
The Bean Shidh
There would only be an instant that Blythe would wait before she heeded the words of Percival and set herself into motion. So many people... It was unsettling, and with the realization of the Bishop's death said crowd was beginning to stir and panic. It would not take much for the Banshee to follow the Talon toward the wagon, using his bulk to clear the way while she drafted in his wake. He would hit the roof as she hit the wagon, and her form would come scampering up soon after. Whatever warmth had been in her was gone now, and that maddened gaze was returning with the prospect of the hunt and encounter to come. The woman would give no pause in her actions and would soon be running over rooftops, leaping the gaps of alleyways, in order to close the distance. Even with the buildings and the din of the populace, she was amazingly quick in her movements and easily adapted. Eyes kept a view of the distance, though, watching for any change in scenery from one glance to the next.
PercivalVizharen
In their panic, the people blamed the 'couple' for the death of their Bishop. Men, honored by the Church, took up arms to race after the agile pair of warriors. Though weighed down by armor and heavy weaponry, they could not easily access the rooftops. The crowd dispersed in chaos and screams, and the men that pursued the Banshee and Percival were temporarily obscured by the fleeing citizens. The Banshee made it to the roof top before Percival could pull himself up. It spoke volumes of her agility and strength, but Percival was not less able. He grunted and got to a knee before standing. His cape was cast to his back with one arm, and he chased after her with their destination well in sight. He pumped his arms and leapt over the gaps between the buildings. Some required casual jumps, others more effort. When they came within plain view of the Spectre of Rome, Percival took a tumble as he almost missed the ledge of one building. He grunted, and hit his side hard.
Spectre of Faith
The movement across the rooftops caught his attention and for a moment he considered shooting, but instead... he smiled and collected his items, retreating down the stairs into the empty house. Once on the patio, he casually took a seat rifle case propped against the wall and poured three glasses of wine. His wide brimmed hat pulled low limiting his vision as he sat watching the stairs, back against the wall, one hand on the table and the other covered by his cape, waiting patiently.
The Bean Shidh
Running and leaping as she was, Blythe hardly heard the stumbling of Percival but she did hear it. Eyes were torn from the retreating form they were after a second after she watched him disappear into the vacant property. Only then did the Banshee skid to a stop atop the roof, backpedalling in the same instant and almost losing her own balance in the process. There had been little conflict within her about whether she would continue on and leave her companion behind or pause as briefly as she did in order to drag him toward his feet again, which was done rather roughly and without warmth. When it was done, she would pause no longer; Blythe was soon in motion again. At least, that is, until she reached where the man had vanished from her sight. Rapier and long knife found their places within her hands before the ranger, using only her legs to support her and her arms to balance her, made her entrance. She didn't come down those stairs from the rooftop though. Her boots would land hard against the cold ground near the patio. It was here she would pause as briefly as possible in order to gain her bearings on where the man was in relation to where she landed.
PercivalVizharen
Percival appreciated the help, and was tugged up to his feet where he regained some semblance of balance. Blythe's skill in acrobatics surpassed his own, and with each new obstacle, Percival was beginning to feel his age. He watched her leap one way, and he opted to go another. Just as she came to the patio of the abandoned house, the back door splintered open and struck the deck in a fantastic display of strength. Standing in the dying light of a setting sun, Percival heaved, his boots crunching the debris as he stepped into plain view and leveled his pistol with a click. "Spectre of Rome, I presume?" His voice, ragged, was heavy from running almost three hundred yards.
Spectre of Faith
He smiled, cokeing his head to the side. The womans entrance, followed by the mans were expected. He offered a slight nod and took a drink of the wine, motioning to the other glasses. "Sit... drink." His voice held no noticable accent, "I hate to drink alone." his own glass placed to the table as he sat back a bit, free hand pushing the hat brim up just enough to allow him a better field of view.
The Bean Shidh
Blythe would ease forward but not stupidly; her eyes didn't sway from their sights when they found the visage of the man called Spectre, not even when Percival kicked in the door as he had. Blades were held ready, rising and falling only a small bit as her body regained its normal breathing pattern at its own pace. No words came from the woman whose face was only visable in the area of her eyes. Her gaze was fierce and feral. She would remain as she was, letting the leader of this soon-to-be motley crew do the talking.
PercivalVizharen
Percival took a seat reluctantly, easing forward. His pistol remained in his lap, protocol when dealing with someone whose skill surpassed his own. "You were.. expecting us?" He asked, his brow hiked up a bit with a questioning expression.
Spectre of Faith
He smirked a bit and refilled his glass. "I heard rumor there was someone in Rome looking for the Spectre... and the Bishops passing confirmed it. Besides... I hate running... you were good enough to find my position... for that... I drink to you. Not many would dare come after me across open ground... for that... another drink, you show courage and conviction." A drink of wine was taken at each offering. "Now... tell me why you've come to Rome looking for a man who is said to only be a myth."
The Bean Shidh
The only indication of her thought process was a very faint cant of her head to the left while the Banshee listened to Talon ask his question and Spectre answer without protest. How did anyone know that they were looking for this ghost of a man, unless Percival had spoken to someone on the matter prior to his finding and procuring the ranger's assistance. The woman eased some and her blades lowered only a fraction. She would not sit and would not drink with this man until she knew for a fact that he wouldn't move against them, even if his current demeanor was casual-enough.
PercivalVizharen
Percival did not drink. He had been poisoned too many times to fall for that again. Instead, he appeared to relax in his seat, even though sweat beaded over his brow and slowly slid down off his jaw. He listened, his dark eyes burning into the man seated across from him. "I do what is necessary to catch what can't be caught." Percival said, his tone taking on an arrogant ring. "Needless to say, you were just as tough to find as the Bean Shidh." He nodded toward the Banshee. "I'm not here for a matter of law. I intend to ask for your service."
Spectre of Faith
"My service... does not come cheap." He took a moment thinking. "But that can be negotiated later, what exactly do you require me to do?" Free hand moved to a pocket, pulling out a small silver ball, rolling it between his fingers along the table top, "No doubt the... target is of great importance no? And most assuredly evil... otherwise... you both would be sitting with the Bishop in the great here after." Lifting his gaze to Percival, "For some reason... I was not inclined to pick you both off as you ran along the roof tops... and that intrigues me. So... let's have it... sway me to your side my friend."
The Bean Shidh
The smirk of the woman could not be seen, but her very presence seemed to mark it when this man spoke of them being alongside the Bishop in death. That would not happen, at least to her. If she died, it would be in battle, not from the shot of a coward who removed himself from the immediate area in order to kill his foe. That was no matter, though. The heaviness around her actually came from the thought of sharing any sort of afterlife under the loving care of the Christian God, a God who showed more hatred than affection. Should it have come to her death, she surely would have burned in the fires of the hells before ascending to a false Heaven of torment. The Banshee hadn't moved, appearing almost as still as a statue cast of some great hero or demon of legend. She watched though, and she listened very carefully to the men who were speaking.
PercivalVizharen
"I'm Percival Vizharen, a Talon sworn to the survival of humanity and order. Recently, I was assigned to kill an evil man, but he was able to allude me due to some.. " He looked down. "..unfortunate circumstances. Now, this man has retreated to the safety of his secrets. Between he and I are tens of thousands of men, hell bent on pushing the gears of destruction. I can not and will not stand by as this happens. I am collecting a team of the best, to seek him out and kill him."
Spectre of Faith
He sat there, listening to the tale. Another drink of wine was taken, the rolling of the musket ball stopped. "Tens of thousands... All of them would be wishing our deaths..." A soft nod. The hand covered by his cape came out, revealing a double barrelled pistol and placed it on the table. "I said my services do not come cheap Percival Vizharen... once you enter into contract with me... you have me to the death of the target... or my own. I charge something different from each... from you... there are a group of men... they commited a great wrong upon me years ago... I've not been able to right this wrong. I help you, you help me."
The Bean Shidh
So it seemed that Blythe was right not to let her guard down when it came to the man they had tracked down and finally located. However, once the pistol was laid onto the table between himself and Percival, the Banshee finally moved again, but it was only to return her rapier to its leather sheath. The long knife was switched to her right hand but lowered. The contract hadn't technically been sealed between them, so she wouldn't ease fully yet. Spectre's terms were not unfamiliar to her; in fact, they were much the same, in a sense. She too was searching for someone because of a wrong committed toward herself in the years before, and a great many people would probably die in the process of them locating her target.
PercivalVizharen
"Explain your prices, and we can discuss a means to get what you seek. My mission requires the utmost attention, but once we have our team.. I can help you." He said, leaning forward, interested to hear what he had in trade.
Spectre of Faith
"I was raised in the Church by a Priest... he was my father as much as my birth father. The Priest was murdered by fellow Priests... I swore the men would pay for this crime. The Bishop was one of them..." He rolled the silver ball towards Percival. "I have one of those for each man... there are twelve left... all Bishops save the man who commited the murder... Cardinal Gregor Karpov... a favored of the Pope. He will be the harderst to kill. But I intend he get his silver... just as Judas did."
The Bean Shidh
Well, the tale did draw Blythe's attention rather quickly. Once she got past the part about him being raised by a priest and probably being religious in his own sense of the word. That part ... she'd deal with later. The long knife was soon slid into its place and her form was set into motion toward the table at which the men sat. Killing men of the cloth was a favored pasttime for the woman, and the prospect of killing one of the Pope's favored was too much. It demanded that she pay attention closely. Gloved hands rose to pull the cowl down from her features and the hood of her cloak from her head. Those shocking strands of red were disheveled and she didn't seem to care at all. She would sit, each movement as graceful as her leaping from rooftops had been. Blues would rest on the face of the man just as attentively as she did when Percival spoke to her.
PercivalVizharen
"Very well. I'll endeavor to do what I can to help you. We have many paths left to travel, however. Have you a place to stay the evening?" Percival asked, turning to watch Blythe take her place amongst them.
Spectre of Faith
He nodded, "A perk of once being in the graces of the Church.. I know where all the safehouses are... and if those are inaccessable, I have a ship at the docks." Glancing to the woman. "Am I to call her Banshee or does she have a proper name?"
The Bean Shidh
Oh, Blythe would not stay in a house of God or one that was considered a holy hovel either. She'd sleep beneath a tree in a swine's wallow before she did that. That blank face gazed right back still, didn't shift at all until he spoke of what to call her. A small quirk of her head was given and those blue eyes dragged themselves from Spectre's face to rest on Percival's features. Oh, she wanted to spew vile toward the newcomer to the group right now, but she did not answer. There was little to read, but she was amused and wanted to see what her companion spoke on her behalf. Hell, as far as she was concerned the Priest-lover could assume she was truly mute or unworthy to be spoken to directly.
PercivalVizharen
"She goes by Banshee. It's probably best we keep it that way." Percival admitted, looking her way with an appreciative smirk and nod. "I will follow your lead, Spectre. So long as we have an accord." He stretched his hand out.
Spectre of Faith
He nodded, reaching out and taking his hand "Cassus Herron... The Spectre is a name used to strike fear into the very souls of the wicked, your cause is not wicked. I can be ready to leave Rome when you are. You have others to bring into the fold, so I assume you'll be wanting to get under way as soon as possible no?"
The Bean Shidh
The smirk was returned to the Talon before she looked back toward Spectre to watch the clasping and contract be finalized. The words shared were listened to, but Blythe let a hand pick up one of the goblets of wine. It was brought to her nose and sniffed. She didn't drink nor did her voice find the table at long last. The container was merely set back down as if deemed unworthy for consumption. For all she knew it was the sacramental wine or the actual blood of the baby Jesus. Regardless, she wasn't drinking it.
PercivalVizharen
"Aye." He shook his hand and let go. "May we proceed to your ship? We can depart at once, and meet with my ship. We need to return to Skye, our safe haven."
Spectre of Faith
He nodded and stood once his hand had been released. His rifle case was taken in hand as was the silver ball shot and he motioned to the door. "The Revenant awaits." Hat was pulled back down as he headed to the door, pausing a moment. "My oath extends to all those who follow your cause. My loyalty is to all who stand at my side."
The Bean Shidh
When movement began to happen around her, the Banshee raised herself back out of the chair she'd settled in. There was a moment of pause given in order for the woman to actually remove her cold weather coverings in order to turn them, more or less, inside out, changing their color quite effectively from that of the woodlands to a simple black. The hood of the cloak and the cowl that protected her face from the cold were returned to their places and tethered to her form, covering her hair and face once more. As if she couldn't even understand the words the man spoke, Blythe headed toward the door and didn't answer to the words spoken. Her oath was to the Talon, the man who had shown her his prowess and his protection since the day they had met. Spectre had yet to earn her respect, though she had no cause to doubt that he would be loyal to her just as much as he would Percival.