Post by Rojo on Jun 18, 2008 13:04:56 GMT -5
Ahem, this is a story about Genji. I haven't told you about him yet, but he's been around almost as long as Rojo has.
____________________________________________________
The Unlikely Three
Chapter 1
Genji
Darkness poured over the city of Glin, it was the city that went frolicking in the buttercups by day, and murdering children in the night. For now was the time when the scum came out to play. A figure walked down the street, it was very starry tonight, he was dressed in a black robe, a red line running from the neck to the rim of the hood of the cloak, the figure walked slowly, walking as if it had all the time in the world. In fact, Genji did have all the time in the world, he had finished his...donation, that goody-goody two shoes king deserved it too. He walked, making no heading for any certain destination, the marble city was purple in the dark, giving it a scary aura, but that was fine, Genji like scary. His boots made hardly any noise at all, but it was still a risk, he being alive was a risk. Genji was wanted by the guards of most capital cities, why should this one be any different? But he had been here two months now and nobody had noticed him. It simply wasn’t safe to be in a cult these days, especially a cult that worshipped the god of death. But Genji wasn’t really a religious person, he was merely in It for the power, well, I say he was in literal terms. He had been kicked out for not giving a weekly donation, pfft, as if some phoney baloney god was gonna get mad if he didn’t pour some sheep blood into some bowl every week. He’d kept the robe though, nice and comfortable. He saw lights on in a building up ahead, he walked towards it.
The tavern looked very quaint, but looks could be deceiving. He looked up the sign swinging in the wind, it read: The Changeling’s Supper. What a stupid name for a tavern, he thought, and walked inside. The smell of pipe smoke instantly bombarded his nostrils, that mixed with the smell of beer and sweaty people was enough to make him cough. He staggered forwards, eyes watering, to the bar. He pulled up a stool, surely they sold white wine here?
“Do you sell white wine?” he asked casually, his eyes flitting around the room, exploring each and every person, the barman looked at him, a balding head and rough moustache told Genji this guy was trying to act tough
“Alrigh’, here ya go,” said the barman, handing Genji a small wine glass, the contents looked extremely dirty.
“Right,” examined the necromancer; he took the glass and began to walk towards a table in the middle of the bar when the barman said,
“Hey, ya din’t pay fo-“ but he was cut off by one silver coin and two bronze coins rattling on the bar, he slowly took the money and put it in a small box under the bar. The barman frowned suspiciously after the man, he hadn’t seen his face, but all that mattered was that he paid.
Genji sipped the wine, he rested his feet on the table, and he took note of the assassin in the rafters, wondering who the man’s target was. He could tell the man was an assassin by his dark clothing, and only assassins, lawyers and necromancers such as himself. He knew for a fact that he wasn’t the target, because people had given up trying to assassinate him, they simply didn’t work on Genji. Maybe it was a racial thing. After all, Dark elves were simply born sneaky, and Genji happened to be one. Maybe the man was simply hiding here? Maybe he was a rough man with a tragic past, who became an assassin to avenge his father? Nope, no tragic history for Our Necromancer; he was born, he grew up, he got into some funny business trying to deal spice, and ended up looped into the Cult Of...well, nobody dared speak his name. Not even Hrun The Twin-axe Butcher said it, and he was a dwarf. But sadly, Genji’s thoughts of a young boy watching his parents being torn apart by orcs and turning to a man in a black suit and walking with him were dashed as two guards burst into the room. Everyone in the room turned to them. Except for Genji. The guards walked slowly towards the middle of the room, their heavy leather boots thumping on the wooden floor of the tavern in the sudden silence.
“The King has had an attempt made on his life...twice,” one of the men announced, glaring around at the patrons like something he had found on the sole of his shoe. Genji’s ears pricked up. Twice...but he had just killed the king hadn’t he? Of course, there were successors, but they were young...cause a bit of chaos. Then his thoughts wandered back, and his head suddenly rose to the assassin in the rafters. The man’s eyes widened, as Genji’s perfectly white eyebrow raised. The man shook his head from side to side very slowly, and the dark elf looked back down. The guards were both staring at him.
“Whatcha lookin’ at, sonny,” one asked his look quizzical yet somehow knowing. Genji didn’t answer.
“He asked you a question,” the other reminded him pointlessly, as if he couldn’t tell the man had asked him a question...
“I am quite capable of comprehending when someone is asking me a question, and when someone is not asking me a question, kind sir,” replied Genji politely, putting a high emphasis on the last two words as if they were blows.
“Is that assault on an officer?” Guard one hissed, putting the flat of his blade on Genji’s table, so the point pricked his chest.
“No, but I believe that if you inch your sword any closer, that will be assault on a citizen,” The Necromancer sipped his wine carefully, which the container of he seemed to be very interested in. Every eye in this dingy little room was on him now, waiting for his reaction.
“Well, who in a place like this is gonna care if one Tetri dies?”
The silence deepened. The word cut through the air like a sword. Tetri was an extremely racist word towards a Dark Elf, referring to a Dark Elf king years ago who betrayed his people and tried to wipe out all other mountain races, then his own people save for a few. Of course he was stopped, but it generally refers to the stereotypical nature of a Dark Elf; backstabbing and stuck-up.
For a moment, the whole world seemed to be quiet. Then, Genji stood up.
“Well, I must say, that, was a very, very, very stupid thing to say,” he finished his white wine, carefully placed the dirty glass on his table, then held up his hand. Green light encircled his hand, twisting and weaving like a mass of webs, shifting and moving and writhing around his hand. The guard who had said the word’s mouth opened in a “O” of horror, then he clutched his throat, dropping his sword. His eyes rolled into his head, and he tried to scream, but no sound came. The other guard yelled, obviously afraid of Genji’s power and ran. Then, the guard under the spell’s eyes closed, and his body lay limp, though still upright. The necromancer frowned, still holding up his glowing hand, as if trying to remember something, then he nodded to himself, smiled, and looked back at the standing corpse. He flexed his hand slightly, and then brought up his other, both glowing, pointing at the dead man. Then, a green light shot from the man’s eyes and mouth, and he opened his eyes. Dead eyes, empty of life, emotion or happiness. A shiver ran through every spine of every man in the small room. Then, Genji put his hands to his sides, looked around the tavern, nodded to the barman, and walked out. After a moment, what seemed to be the guard followed his face expressionless.
Soon, after, a man dressed in black dropped from the ceiling and ran out.
____________________________________________________
The Unlikely Three
Chapter 1
Genji
Darkness poured over the city of Glin, it was the city that went frolicking in the buttercups by day, and murdering children in the night. For now was the time when the scum came out to play. A figure walked down the street, it was very starry tonight, he was dressed in a black robe, a red line running from the neck to the rim of the hood of the cloak, the figure walked slowly, walking as if it had all the time in the world. In fact, Genji did have all the time in the world, he had finished his...donation, that goody-goody two shoes king deserved it too. He walked, making no heading for any certain destination, the marble city was purple in the dark, giving it a scary aura, but that was fine, Genji like scary. His boots made hardly any noise at all, but it was still a risk, he being alive was a risk. Genji was wanted by the guards of most capital cities, why should this one be any different? But he had been here two months now and nobody had noticed him. It simply wasn’t safe to be in a cult these days, especially a cult that worshipped the god of death. But Genji wasn’t really a religious person, he was merely in It for the power, well, I say he was in literal terms. He had been kicked out for not giving a weekly donation, pfft, as if some phoney baloney god was gonna get mad if he didn’t pour some sheep blood into some bowl every week. He’d kept the robe though, nice and comfortable. He saw lights on in a building up ahead, he walked towards it.
The tavern looked very quaint, but looks could be deceiving. He looked up the sign swinging in the wind, it read: The Changeling’s Supper. What a stupid name for a tavern, he thought, and walked inside. The smell of pipe smoke instantly bombarded his nostrils, that mixed with the smell of beer and sweaty people was enough to make him cough. He staggered forwards, eyes watering, to the bar. He pulled up a stool, surely they sold white wine here?
“Do you sell white wine?” he asked casually, his eyes flitting around the room, exploring each and every person, the barman looked at him, a balding head and rough moustache told Genji this guy was trying to act tough
“Alrigh’, here ya go,” said the barman, handing Genji a small wine glass, the contents looked extremely dirty.
“Right,” examined the necromancer; he took the glass and began to walk towards a table in the middle of the bar when the barman said,
“Hey, ya din’t pay fo-“ but he was cut off by one silver coin and two bronze coins rattling on the bar, he slowly took the money and put it in a small box under the bar. The barman frowned suspiciously after the man, he hadn’t seen his face, but all that mattered was that he paid.
Genji sipped the wine, he rested his feet on the table, and he took note of the assassin in the rafters, wondering who the man’s target was. He could tell the man was an assassin by his dark clothing, and only assassins, lawyers and necromancers such as himself. He knew for a fact that he wasn’t the target, because people had given up trying to assassinate him, they simply didn’t work on Genji. Maybe it was a racial thing. After all, Dark elves were simply born sneaky, and Genji happened to be one. Maybe the man was simply hiding here? Maybe he was a rough man with a tragic past, who became an assassin to avenge his father? Nope, no tragic history for Our Necromancer; he was born, he grew up, he got into some funny business trying to deal spice, and ended up looped into the Cult Of...well, nobody dared speak his name. Not even Hrun The Twin-axe Butcher said it, and he was a dwarf. But sadly, Genji’s thoughts of a young boy watching his parents being torn apart by orcs and turning to a man in a black suit and walking with him were dashed as two guards burst into the room. Everyone in the room turned to them. Except for Genji. The guards walked slowly towards the middle of the room, their heavy leather boots thumping on the wooden floor of the tavern in the sudden silence.
“The King has had an attempt made on his life...twice,” one of the men announced, glaring around at the patrons like something he had found on the sole of his shoe. Genji’s ears pricked up. Twice...but he had just killed the king hadn’t he? Of course, there were successors, but they were young...cause a bit of chaos. Then his thoughts wandered back, and his head suddenly rose to the assassin in the rafters. The man’s eyes widened, as Genji’s perfectly white eyebrow raised. The man shook his head from side to side very slowly, and the dark elf looked back down. The guards were both staring at him.
“Whatcha lookin’ at, sonny,” one asked his look quizzical yet somehow knowing. Genji didn’t answer.
“He asked you a question,” the other reminded him pointlessly, as if he couldn’t tell the man had asked him a question...
“I am quite capable of comprehending when someone is asking me a question, and when someone is not asking me a question, kind sir,” replied Genji politely, putting a high emphasis on the last two words as if they were blows.
“Is that assault on an officer?” Guard one hissed, putting the flat of his blade on Genji’s table, so the point pricked his chest.
“No, but I believe that if you inch your sword any closer, that will be assault on a citizen,” The Necromancer sipped his wine carefully, which the container of he seemed to be very interested in. Every eye in this dingy little room was on him now, waiting for his reaction.
“Well, who in a place like this is gonna care if one Tetri dies?”
The silence deepened. The word cut through the air like a sword. Tetri was an extremely racist word towards a Dark Elf, referring to a Dark Elf king years ago who betrayed his people and tried to wipe out all other mountain races, then his own people save for a few. Of course he was stopped, but it generally refers to the stereotypical nature of a Dark Elf; backstabbing and stuck-up.
For a moment, the whole world seemed to be quiet. Then, Genji stood up.
“Well, I must say, that, was a very, very, very stupid thing to say,” he finished his white wine, carefully placed the dirty glass on his table, then held up his hand. Green light encircled his hand, twisting and weaving like a mass of webs, shifting and moving and writhing around his hand. The guard who had said the word’s mouth opened in a “O” of horror, then he clutched his throat, dropping his sword. His eyes rolled into his head, and he tried to scream, but no sound came. The other guard yelled, obviously afraid of Genji’s power and ran. Then, the guard under the spell’s eyes closed, and his body lay limp, though still upright. The necromancer frowned, still holding up his glowing hand, as if trying to remember something, then he nodded to himself, smiled, and looked back at the standing corpse. He flexed his hand slightly, and then brought up his other, both glowing, pointing at the dead man. Then, a green light shot from the man’s eyes and mouth, and he opened his eyes. Dead eyes, empty of life, emotion or happiness. A shiver ran through every spine of every man in the small room. Then, Genji put his hands to his sides, looked around the tavern, nodded to the barman, and walked out. After a moment, what seemed to be the guard followed his face expressionless.
Soon, after, a man dressed in black dropped from the ceiling and ran out.
