When business and vacation collide...(Shortround)

[Nimavel Mynendil]

Month of Melora in the Season of Spring, Era XIV

The Angry Sea Trout. That was the rendezvous point.

Swathed in the color of darkness, the assassin glided across the streets of Chelseanna –every leather-bound step muffled by utter silence. Surreptitiousness came easily to the deadly elf lord who had been a practitioner of his dangerous trade for as long as anyone could remember. Those who allied against him had been made examples of, and those who had brandished arms in opposition to him had been quieted.

And those opulent few, wealthy enough to employ the elf lord’s services, were never without satisfaction.

The Cloak of Living Shadows, a necromantic cape draped across the assassin’s slender shoulders, fluttered haphazardly behind him as he steered down the respective lanes and avenues that would lead him to the Angry Sea Trout. Having mustered an alibi to Calairiel to explain his temporary absence, the Heru Mynendil understood the imperativeness of punctuality. The slightest tardiness could disentangle his ultimate scheme, and that was not something that the elf lord cared to see into fruition.

He was never late.

Arriving at the designated meeting point as agreed upon, the assassin’s lavender orbs strafed steadily from side to side as he searched the facility, looking for those familiar faces which had become associated with comradeship over the seasons. They would be here, no doubt, and they would be prepared.

Upon identifying his host of accomplices, all of which were likely dispersed about the seats and tables, the assassin casually mingled into the masses of the tavern, waiting for the uninvolved patrons to file out of the place and leave the entourage of schemers to themselves.

Usvig’s contact would be coming soon.

[Shorty]

"Whatcha havin' luv?" A weathered waitress asked Nimavel. She'd wait for his order and go and fetch it.

It was close to the end of another darkening of business. The bouncers, waitresses, and bartenders soon began to announce the last call.

The waitress returned.
"It's on the house dearie." She said and nodded towards the bar. Standing there was a large man with a scar running down his cheek. Him and Nimavel locked eyes. The man nodded in recognition. Contact made.

Nimavel would begin to see familiar faces at the Angry Sea Trout. Lucy and Digits were having a drink at a nearby table. The Rat Tail boys were all lined up against the bar.

A half a candlemark later the last drunk was ushered out the door. The scarred tavernkeeper dried a last glass and motioned for everyone to gather around.

"Name's Zoric, friend of Usvig. Bartenders of the world unite, that kind of thing." Zoric kidded in a gruff voice. "Well, things haven't gone as planned- the job in NP, well, you know that it didn't go on. They changed their plans and well, here we are this darkening. Both of our competition is making a big exchange this next brightening. A small handbag full of something that I want is leaving the Distretto del Magazzino bound for the south of the island. On the southern part of the island is a small hidden cove- called the Cove Nascosto. That's where some of those Nexus Prime guys will be waiting to make the exchange.
"Usvig and me both want this done, and we'll pay for two jobs. One, get the handbag. Two, whack those Nexians and Mainland schiuma running their office outta my porto!" Zoric nodded. "Usvig says you're worth it. So you ready? What is it that you need to know?"

[Nimavel Mynendil]

Periodic nods indicated the elfin assassin’s understanding of the imparted assignment, and he occasionally paused for commentary from his several comrades mulling about the quiet room. All of them, Anna included, were professionals and the magnitude of their assignment was irrelevant so long as they were justly compensated for their services. And it seemed that in this case they would be rewarded quite handsomely

Nodding appreciatively to the waitress as the drink was set before him, Nimavel clasped the goblet and brought the rim delicately to his lips. He did not sip at the contents, of course, as the elfin assassin was far too cautious to intake elements supplied by foreign contacts, but he nevertheless feigned consumption.

After the information was properly relayed, Nimavel rested his pale hands casually upon the wooden counter of the bar. Contemplating silently for several seconds, he incorporated this new information into the plot that he had already begun designing prior to his arrival.

“Basically then, you want both the Nexians and the smugglers here terminated.”

Tilting his head amusedly to the side, the glimmer in Nimavel’s lavender eyes foretold his satisfaction at the notion. Specific assassinations were oftentimes difficult to conduct as a perpetrator only had a single target; however, multiple exterminations were by far the easiest to orchestrate as there was little necessity for complete inconspicuousness.

“Also, what exactly does the handbag contain? I care little for the contents within, but for the sake of circumventing miscommunication, it would probably be in our interest to know what exactly we’re after.”

Indeed, the last thing that Nimavel desired was for his group to seize the wrong package from the carriers.

[Tarot]

OOC: Sorry for any mistakes.

IC: "All of them, down to the last man," Zoric confirmed without hesitation, his disfigured face creepy in the dim light of the room. "They've messed with our porto long enough. You'll have plenty of opportunities to get them, too. Just make sure you don't get any tourists involved, they are our precious cashcow. You shouldn't find any in the Southern part of the island, there's hardly anyone there. It's a wild place, no houses, only wilderness... well, unless you count House Sciacca," and here he casually touched iron, a superstitious gesture dear to the natives, "but those freaks are rarely seen outside their mansion and shouldn't be a problem."

He shrugged at Nimavel's question. "The handbag? It's supposed to contain a few items - a scroll tube, a statuette, papers. That bag must not leave Chelseanna for any reason."

The scarred man looked at the assembled people. "I know the local smugglers will number perhaps four of five men, fencers, good ones. How many the Nexians will bring is anyone's guess, probably more than that. Anything else you need to know?"

[Nimavel Mynendil]

Sparing occasional glances to his surrounding comrades, the Heru Mynendil nodded finally as the details of the assignment were more fully elucidated. Unlike other tasks whereby Nimavel had been charged to isolate specific targets, this particular endeavor would involve terminating an entire company of soldiers, smugglers, and gangsters alike.

It was the type of charge that the elf lord preferred.

“The bag will be yours.”

Nimavel reassured, and he looked again to his loyal companions to see if they had any further questions. Presuming that they did not, the elf lord finally gifted the dwarven bartender with one last nod.

“One last thing, Zoric. What will be our most efficient means of transportation? I would like to arrive at the scene before our targets do. Our equipment is packed and prepared to go, and we would like to move out as soon as possible to set up.”

[Tarot]

Zoric Konstaninou gave a frightening smirk that could have been called an appreciative one. "I know," he said. No-one else in the room voiced any objections to the plan. At Nimavel's question on transportation, the monstrous human grinned savagely.

"There are two options," he said, reinforcing his point with two fingers, "One, you cross the island on foot. We don't have fancy horses on Celsianna - there's this fething old law banning'em from the island for some reason - and quite obviously donkeys are no go. You'll probably like the other option better."

"I can give you access to a small schooner of mine that is docked in the Porto, the Fortunata. I use it for my own deals with the rest of Eunesia. It's fast, reliable and people see it sailing around all the time, so it won't draw any attention. We could get you near the Cove and drop a couple of rowboats for your approach. Does that sound like a plan?"

[Nimavel Mynendil]

“The schooner and the rowboats will suit our purposes.”

Nimavel replied, and he imparted a subtle nod to convey his appreciation for Zoric’s helpfulness. Of the countless endeavors that the assassin had participated in, none of his contractors had been nearly as accommodating as Zoric and Usvig of Nexus Prime. These two gentlemen knew what they were doing.

They knew how to foster success.

Normally the elfin lord would not have minded using horses as an element of the party’s getaway plan, but the animals were not conducive to stealth. Granted Nimavel and his companions had been tasked to assassinate everyone and subsequently none would be alive to trace them anyway, but there were also the authorities to take into consideration. Every detail had to be accounted for.

Glancing one last time to his companions to confirm this factor with them, Nimavel would then turn to the bartender and bid him to lead on.

The time for action was drawing nearer.

[Tarot]

There were no further questions, nor further demands from Konstaninou. The disfigured bartender just gave a curt nod to seal the contract, certain that the job would be carried out without a problems. This was an expensive one, but the specialists were some of the very best, and money would never be an issue. Gears would be set in motion. The opportunity was unprecedented.

The brutish Zoric escorted the party of assassin outside the Angry Sea Trout through a secondary backdoor. It was carefully concealed behind a piece of furniture, but pulling on a chandelier caused it to slide sideways, revealing the passage. Clearly, like a lot of things on the island, there was more to this establishment than met the eyes. "If you would follow me," he said, the burly man disappearing through the doorway. After a few meters, the corridor ended with another hidden door that led to a back alley behind the tavern. From there, reaching the Docks was a matter of a minute or two.

Zoric's schooner, the Fortunata, had her own pier as all the ships of the natives did. Those were not many, truth be told. Only the truly wealthy could afford the maintainance of a decent vessel. The ship was remarkably well-kept and looked every bit like a legitimate ship. It had been repainted recently, immaculate sails gracing its two masts. A few sailors could be seen on board as Zoric walked up the gangboard.

"You'll be leaving the harbor in two candlemarks," the scarred man barked the order to a man with a three-brightening stubble. He was smoking a cigar, sitting with his feet crossed upon the rails, enjoying the breeze with a half-empty bottle next to him. "Aye, aye," the man grunted a bit, taking on a more attentive pose and standing up to pay Zoric some amount of respect, though he was not above scratching in front of his superior. His hands were strongs and he carried himself in a way that suggested much more skill than he wished to show.

"This man is Captain Latresse," Zoric said, explaining the assignment as far as dropping the rowboats. He did not say exactly what Nimavel and company would be doing, but the seaman seemed to connect the dots. "You will spend the darkening at sea, and drop the rowboats at sunrise."

The Captain mumbled something that could be interpreted as an acknowledgement of the order. "Well then, let's get the old girl dressed, hmm?" He muttered some more and rushed off to boss the small crew around. Zoric looked at the assembled party of assassins for a moment, then turned his back and disembarked. Nimavel's party made themselves at home on the ship. Soon. Soon they would be setting sail.

[Nimavel Mynendil]

They were playing a dangerous game. All of them knew that, but none of them would deny the appeal of the lucrative opportunity. They were professionals by nature, some of the finest spawned upon the streets of Nexus Prime, and there were some like Nimavel whose legendary exploits had been conducted so secretly that only the Gods could stand by in awe.

But tonight, the criminals of Chelseanna would be struck a blow from the dwarven bartenders and their unidentified benefactors. Nimavel and his cohort would be the arms and legs of that organization, striking like starving vipers and leaving no remnants of their victims. They had come to Chelseanna with a plan, one that, despite earlier setbacks, was waiting to be unleashed upon their targets.

Following the dwarf past two doors and towards the harbor, the Lord of House Mynendil surveyed the shadowy waters with nothing more than a cursory glance. He did not look from side to side as he would have done as a younger elf, for his perpetual Shadow Gaze had ways of providing fair warning of potential traps and ambushes with but a mere thought. Waiting for his comrades to gather behind him, Nimavel nodded tersely and accompanied Zoric to a small schooner anchored a short distance away.

“Well met, Captain.”

Nimavel said as the sailor presented himself. Eyeing the man apathetically for no more than a few seconds, the assassin gestured towards the boat to his companions and waited for them to alight into the vessel and unload their equipment. It had been a long journey to Chelseanna and some of them, no doubt, had been afflicted by fatigue during the course of the sojourn.

Waiting until the dwarf left before returning to the ship, the Heru Mynendil glanced one last time to the darkened horizon, naturally wondering what his wife was doing now. They had come to Chelseanna on their honeymoon, and while it was still very much the occasion, Nimavel had arrived with ulterior plans outside of the typical lovemaking and quality time that most people usually spent with their spouses.

But it would be over soon.

Resting his head against the railing of the ship, the elfin lord meditated and focused his thoughts, waiting and anticipating for their window of opportunity to present itself. It would, he knew, and he could not afford to be distracted. None of them could.

[Tarot]

The Captain nodded at the Elflord, but he and the men seemed wary of approaching Nimavel and his troupe of assassins. Maybe it was a standard rule when one worked for Zoric. Maybe it had to do with the strange superstitions of this island. Regardless, Latresse called all hands on deck, had them unfurl the sails, and finally the Fortunata left the harbor.

Nimavel and his men were for the most part left to their own devices, and everyone made sure to get some badly needed rest, though being consummated professionals, none let their guard down for a second. The waters were calm and crystalline - the Eunesian sea at its best. The schooner cut through the waves with the elegance of a fish, betraying the ancient experience of the Eunesian shipwrights.

The ship sailed forth, though it did not go too far, skirting the curves of the elongated island of Chelseanna. Soon, the Fortunata took shelter in a small cove that had obviously been used for the same purpose many times before. A simple, frugal pracenda was then served. No alcohol was allowed on the ship. The sailors did not try to stir conversation with the Elflord and his associates.

A few candlemarks later, just as planned, the Fortunata slipped out of its hiding place. Under the pale moonlight, it was surprising to see how different the Southern half of the island was from the Northern one where the town and its Port rested. The change was rather sudden but felt almost physically tangible as soon as one crossed the imaginary line that cut Mount Tuli in half. The North was the domain of civilized life, of strange customs, of violins, elaborate bows and refined art. The South was covered with woods, rocky cliffs, and large patches of wild bushes dotting coarse-grained beaches. Hardly any trace of civilization in sight. The very air felt different, tingly, savage, untamed. And this was where the assassin would be landing.

Sunrise was fast approching. Latresse spoke pretty much the first line since they'd left the Port. "There, the Cove Nascosto." He pointed at a curve in the coast, a small length of beach between two cliffs. There was a single ship visible in the distance, looking nothing like a fishing boat of any kind and much more like the Fortunata itself. One could only suppose it was the ship of the Nexian targets. It was entering the Cove, but they did not seem to realize they were being watched.

"Time to drop the rowboats," the Captain said. "There's nine of you, so two will be enough." While the sailors carried out the order, Nimavel would have to deploy his squad and decide how to proceed.

[Nimavel Mynendil]

The assassin was grateful for the silence. He’d killed a man once for annoying him. Ironically, that man, once Corran Bethager, might have accompanied the squad from Nexus Prime had he not aroused the elf lord’s ire. Luckily, though, no such occurrences surfaced on this particular occasion. The heru Mynendil sat silently in the shadows, focusing upon the bloodshed yet to come. By the end of the evening all of their hands would be guilty of life’s gravest sin, but they would be rewarded with another: avarice.

Alighting into the row boat as they arrived at their destination, the assassin subtly deposited a bag of one thousand crowns at the Captain’s feet –their insurance policy back home. And then the entourage was off, deploying towards their targeted ship with every intention of reducing its crew to zero. There could be no survivors, Nimavel knew, but there was no one better at ensuring such an outcome than the prestigious Lord of House Mynendil.

“Yuri, when we reach land, you and the Boys fan out. Assess the perimeter for watchmen and guards, anyone that may pose a threat in compromising our presence here. Relay the information back to Digits and me. From there we’ll consider our angle of approach.”

The assassin’s lavender eyes met Yuri’s momentarily, taking solace in remembering that Yuri, prior to his assimilation into Nimavel’s force, had controlled a rather small portion of Nexus Prime’s docks rather effectively. Yuri and his band were the bruisers of the group, the enforcers. They could take care of themselves.

“Lucy and Anton, keep close to Yuri but operate as our liaisons to communicate between the different groups.”

He nodded to the former prostitute, the glimmer in his violet eyes betraying his high expectations. He would not tolerate failure in this area, not when all of their lives depended upon her efficiency.

“Digits, you come with me.”

The assassin’s head inclined towards the katta in silent but evident understanding. Besides Nimavel, of the group, Digits was the most experienced at stealth, evasion, and guerrilla combat. If there was anyone that the Heru Mynendil trusted to handle himself and get the job done, it was certainly Digits.

“We’ll pick our way to the main encampment. After a brief reconnaissance we’ll return to the others and adjust our plans accordingly.”

[Tarot]

The Captain stared curiously at the bag of money, almost regarding as an object of fascination for a long moment. While it almost seemed that he would not pick it up, if Nimavel but turned his back for an instant he would find that it was no longer there, and the Captain was marching off with the particular gait of experienced sea dogs.

Yuri nodded at the Elflord's command, a wordless gaze of acknowledgement of the order received. Lucy replied with a devious smile, Digits followed Nimavel and listened to his briefing with hardly a muscle moving. "Sounds like a plan," he agreed, and with that it seemed that the assassin's preparations were complete.

Captain Latresse had made sure the rowboats were ready for deployment. Once the commando had found their seats, the two diminutive boats were dropped on the dark waters of the Eunesian Seas, the moons shining down on the killers and the grisly task ahead of them. They were to leave no survivors whatsoever.

No breeze caressed Nimavel's face throughout the first part of the boat ride, as if the sea itself were holding its breath in anticipation. The rowboats approached the landing site, a small untamed beach with hardly any vegetation, just a few skeletal bushes that seemed strangely twisted and warped... just like the rest of the environment, to be honest. A faint, unpleasant smell crept into the Elf's nostrils as the party approached the shore. While they could not pinpoint what it was, it was slightly unpleasant. The whole place was inhospitable. Sharp rocks, making ideal places for hiding, dotted the beach, which was surmounted by razor-like cliffs. Further North, a narrow winding dirt path led to the top of the cliff itself, and beyond that there was a forest of thick trees.

More interestingly, the narrow beach ultimately continued to the South and opened into a larger, sandy clearing that was perhaps 80-100 meters ahead of Nimavel's group. The outline of what looked like the entrance to a natural cave could be seen, as could the flicker of torches throughout that part of the beach. As Nimavel ordered, the Boys set out to explore their immediate surrounding, the cliff, going as far as the edge of the woods. Lucy and Anton trailed after them, but were ready to leave them to go and report to Nimavel.

The Elflord and Digits were now faced with the task of exploring the enemy encampment. They could advance in the shadows, running from one rock to the next for cover. Finally, they could examine the soon-to-be battleground from up close. Torch-holding men patrolled this portion of the beach in groups of two. Two on Nimavel's side, and two more on the other side of the beach, perhaps fifty meters from the first two. The cave-like entrance lay in the middle, and the glow of torches could be seen radiating from there, as well. The beach had an old wooden pier that could be used for docking... which was exactly what the ship they had spotted earlier was going to do. It was a matter of minutes.

[Nimavel Mynendil]

Dry ground materialized beneath the assassin’s silently falling feet within minutes, and he alighted to the shore without creating the faintest whisper of sound. Instinctively kneeling within the shadows, he issued communicative nods to his compatriots to beckon them onwards. Theirs was a macabre task set before them, but one that would yield worthwhile gains.

Ironically, none of the cutthroats were victims of avarice. Perhaps the Rat Tail Boys stumbled to the sin on occasion, but they’d made a comfortable living for themselves on the docks of Nexus Prime. However, all of them were keenly aware of the importance of reputation in the underworld, and neither elf, katta, nor human was about to question the immense benefits that could be garnered by successfully completing their assignment.

Not only would their fame increase, but so too would their inflow of contracts.

Without a word, Nimavel’s lavender eyes followed the silhouettes of his companions as they fanned out across the area. In his earlier days the Heru Mynendil would have scanned the tree line and every crook and crevice for hidden sentries, but the master of K’Tesh wielded techniques that were beyond the wildest imaginations of those unaffiliated with magic which, in reality, included most people.

He silently noted the formation of the island, committing their rendezvous point to memory and also the routes that his comrades were taking. And then, without a second thought, he and Digits proceeded to the perimeter of the enemy encampment, picking their way meticulously across rocks, dead leaves, and whatever other obstacles threatened to betray their presences. A foreign stench suddenly infiltrated his nostrils, and he paused prudently to determine the direction from which the pungent odor was coming from. He didn’t recognize the smell, but he kept conscious of it as he glided through the shadows.

It was then that the elfin lord employed the Shadow Gaze, the only technique of its kind. With this transcendent-like awareness, the Heru Mynendil swept the surrounding area with his preternatural senses, locating life forces otherwise unseen or close by. Before he and Digits eliminated the guards on patrol, they would need to verify that doing so would remain unnoticed by any potentially hidden guards in the nearby proximity.

Having taken note of the four visible guards patrolling on opposite ends of each other, Nimavel was confident that the outer beach could be taken without too much trouble; however, as the Heru Mynendil was not one to take unnecessary risks (especially with assignments of this magnitude) he patiently waited for a completely lucid inspection of the vicinity before setting to any specific course of action. Not only would it be safer for him and Digits, but it would also enable Lucy, Yuri, and the other Rat Tail Boys to familiarize themselves with the area.