Hydaelyn Role-Players

((The purpose of this thread is to help wrap up the loose ends that arose at the tail end of my rp event "Saga of the Wind Swept Sand" which has just ended.  I will be using it to help resolve them based on IC events in-game.))

((In Askier’s cell, resting on the bed he made so neatly before leaving for his trial, sits a note,waiting for any to read.))

 
To whomever finds this,


This may be my last time sitting down to write, and I will be considering this as my last testament.   The purpose of this testament is to chronicle the past two years, and, more specifically, the past few weeks that have led to me sitting in this cell.
 
I begin when Saravena was taken, as that was the catalyst for all of this.  Saravena and I had been wandering and working as mercenaries for the three years after my desertion from the Empire following the calamity. 
It was a good life.  However, my drunkenness proved our undoing.  Like my father, the drink is my vice and I was drunk and loud too often back then.  A servant of my former captain during my years in service to the Empire, hence forth referred to as “my employer”, recognized me. I do not know how long they followed after us, or planned, but they struck without warning.  Saravena found a knife to her throat and I with a choice many say should have been harder to make than I found it to be.  I agreed to save Saravena’s life by destroying Ul’dah with a bomb of my own creation.
 
For the next two years, I moved in secret, slowing shipping in my needed parts a few at a time to keep myself from drawing unwanted attention to myself.  I joined the Harbingers of Dawn during this time, hoping to find companionship to distract my mind from what I was doing.  Although I found most inside the Free Company to be as full of schemes as I, I did find a few genuine companions, though only one I felt comfortable telling everything to, which I did.  Hound, I know you cannot read and I apologize for lying to you about me not being able to do so for so long, but if this should ever be read aloud to you, know you are more than a friend, you are family.
 
Hound hinted I should stop and try to find another way, but I dismissed her.  What could the two of us do against “my employers” shadows?  I was afraid and continued on, though I regret now not heeding her.
 
I was allowed to see my sister during these two years on rare occasions.  Always at a location “my employer’s” slave, Jin’li, picked, and only for a few moments.  I began to grow impatient, wanting her back.I started making ripples in my haste. 
Ripples Erik Mynhier began to detect. I realized this and grew angry. I was too close.  So I made a move that, in hindsight, saved both Saravena and all of Ul’dah: I confronted Erik.
 
Erik, should you see this, know that I have always judged a leader by how his enemies view him and his men revere him.  'A friend to all' is the title I bestow upon you.  I came to you, trying to trick you into playing this game by my rules, to bend you to my will.  But even then you showed me respect as I revealed half-truths to you.  I should have realized then, when you let me walk away, that you had already won.  You had already placed your prize pieces upon the board,


Kahn'a Od'hilkas and Osric Melkire.


Erik, I don’t know how many moves ahead of me you were or how you intercepted Jin’li’s letter to me, but you played it all so well.  There I stood, in Vesper Bay, waiting for the shipping manifest from Jin’li that would reveal where I was to find the final three parts for my device.  I recall how my allies and Delial Grimsong… I do not call Delial an ally because she is something more, a schemer as great as myself and as close a friend as one can have with such a dangerous creature.  She was using me to help her own ends as much as she aided me out of a kindred bond to save our siblings.  I have digressed.
 
There we stood, with the manifest in hand, my eyes reading over it greedily, when Kahn’a and his allies attacked us.  Looking back, I realize just how far Kahn’a has come since Vesper Bay. Back then he was just a scared kit while now he… during Vesper Bay, he was no real threat.  The only reason I lost the manifest was a result of the hyur the woman, Daphine, smashing my eye with her book and Osric attacking my flank while I recoiled in pain.  Osric certainly would have captured me and ended it all then and there had my chocobo, Drumstick, not come to my aid.



After Vesper Bay, I nursed my wounds in secret.  Delial did what she could for me, but my eye never healed properly, and even now, bright light causes it to weep blood profusely.  I wanted revenge and so  I hunted for it during the week until my last three parts would arrive.  I found Kahn’a in an alley and thrashed him violently, hoping that my assault would stop Kahn’a for good.  Instead, my violence caught the eye of my Harbinger of Dawn superior, S’honji, and his friend at the time, Kanaria Galanodel. Eager for more guards to help me recover my packages, I lied to them both, pleading for help recovering my shipments for “my employer” saying they were harmless artifacts.  S’honji immediately mistrusted me, but Kanaria seemed to be eager to help a man in need. 
 
My allies gathered at the “Coffin and Coffer”, being Delial,Hound, Siha, Kanaria, and S’honji. Everything should have been easy.  We split into two parties.  Delial, Kanaria and Shonji went to The Silver Bazaar. Hound, Siha, and I went to Crescent Cove.


But Hound betrayed me.


Just as I had recovered my second part and planned to kidnap Siha, Kahn’a arrived.  Hound then stepped forward and raised her axe against me.  Outnumbered four-to-one, I was forced to swim for it with my part.  Wet and half-naked, I rendezvoused back in Ul’dah with Delial’s team where we secured the two parts we had recovered and then proceeded to location number three, the graveyard near Camp Drybone.   Osric,Hound, Siha, Kah’na, Daphine, and Jana were waiting for us.  After a standoff, we came to blows, though it was my party that was forced to yield, all of us bloodied and beaten, save Kanaria, who proved to be a more dangerous combatant then I had ever expected,certainly more than S’honji, who fell to Osric’s blows swiftly.  I broke Osric’s knee before fleeing on Drumstick once more, a battered Delial thrown unceremoniously across my saddle.


That night, I finished the bomb, even without the third part.  As my lethal creation hummed intolife and the sinister glow burned into my eye, I will admit I felt pride at all I had accomplished. I had almost, single-handedly, done the impossible, something the might of the entire Imperial military had not been able to do:  I had Ul’dah by the throat.  In that moment, I was akin to Bahamut, a force of sheer destruction unable to be stopped.  The timer on my bomb was ticking and would detonate in one week.


Then my heart sank and my stomach twisted into knots as I realized, without a shred of doubt, I didn’t want to go through with my plan.  The reality of what setting the device off would do, and what would happen to Saravena if I didn't let it go off, slammed into me.  Depressed and confused, I started to drown my emotions in alcohol.
 
For the next week, a war raged inside my mind, part of me playing the demon.  I encountered Kahn’ain the streets of Ul’dah and my companion Raven and I tormented him, trying to break him of his will to fight.  But I saw in his eyes he wasn’t afraid anymore. He was fighting back and I felt fear. I began to grow confused, and in my confusion, I acted, proceeding in an action that had repercussions in my mind and added fuel to my doubt.  I might have even killed Kahn’a at that moment had Kanaria not intervened.  I left, my mind wrapped in the fog of doubt and no amount of fiery liquor could burn the fog away.
 
My conscious rose up in me, begging me to seek help.  But from who? Hound had betrayed me and it would be some time till we mended our relationship.  I thought I was alone again.
 
I wasn’t.  I know now that Kanaria was working with Kahn’a, but she found me sitting on some crates and managed to wring the truth of my goals and who I was from my lips without a bit of force. I was so desperate and wracked by guilt I needed to confess.  Kanaria’s response amazed me.  She did not shun me, but offered to help me to the bitter end.   I left her, still confused but with the realization I wasn’t alone. I wanted to see Kanaria again, to talk to someone.  She used this desire to break down my defenses and convinced me to meet with Kahn’a and Osric. During the meeting, I gave them a copy of the book I had written on explosive magitek as a token of good will. In return, Osric offered a plan:


Ask "my employer” to let me see my sister one last time, but instead of me going, he would and free my sister while I waited with my bomb, swearing to disarm it the moment Saravena was safe.
 
That night, after the meeting, as I drank by the light of my bomb, I smiled. I remember it.  For the first time in a long time, I saw a light at the end of this tunnel and it wasn’t a light of destruction.
 
But the truce nearly failed.
 
I had gathered my allies and Delial, still not entirely trusting Kahn’a and Osric.  Kahn’a arrived with his troops and my mind immediately took it as betrayal but I waited.  I was willing to humor them as they looked on at my bomb with terror. But then I heard Kahn’a say the words that broke my will that night.  He looked straight at me and uttered: “Saravena is dead, Askier.”
 
My mind snapped, I started dancing around, cackling, wanting to kill everyone and everything, wanting to set off the bomb, and I know I would have, had Kanaria not held me back. My allies and Delial refused to fight, they heard Kahn’a as he tried to explain Saravena was, in fact, still alive; that Osric had saved her after all.  In my grief I failed to hear, and I was shot by Kahn’a’s arrow.  After that, I remember very little as Daphine drugged me.  But I know the bomb was disarmed and I was taken to this cell, where I have resided this past week, thinking.
 
I was visited later by Kanaria and Kahn’a, who brought in an unconscious Saravena and placed her in my arms. Osric had kept up his end of the bargain, though they had almost lost her.  I confess I wept for hours, both relieved that she was safe again after two years and ashamed for nearly breaking my end of the truce.
 
But Jin’li isn’t done with me it seems.  He still lives and conspires for “my employer.”  If I ever see that runt again, I’ll sink my teeth into his throat and tear it out. Kahn’a and Osric tell me that Kahn’a is being forced to play a game for“my employer” much like the one I was forced to, though this time, it is not Ul’dah he wants destroyed, it is me for failing him and letting Osric make a fool out of him. 
 
  I feel no hatred for Osric, Kanaria, or Kahn’a. Rather I view them as family.  They simply tried to keep what they cared for safe and they were willing to help out a total stranger and his sister while doing so.  How could I ever judge someone for that?  Kahn’a especially has gone from my greatest foe to something I find myself surprised by.  Raven, Kanaria, Osric, Hound, Kahn’a, Vali,even you Delial, I owe you all a debt I can never repay but will try.
 
I have one last scheme to play.  One, that if all goes well, will free me forever from this madman, though the price will by high for some near to me, but they have agreed and once again I am left in awe of their selflessness.  I will stand trial soon and accept my punishment, be it acceptable to me. S’honji plans to convict me and execute me, but I have no plan on dying.  Not until I return “my employer” for his years of kindness.
 
In conclusion, I did not write this for pity or forgiveness.  In truth, part of me will always be proud of what I have accomplished, though I am grateful that I never had to set off my device.  No, I write this so that, no matter how history remembers me, there will always be a record from my own pen that proves that I am nothing more than a simple Garlean miqot’e, whom was fallible, foolish, and devoted to those he loves.
 
Askier Mergrey,

Smoke wafted across the window, shifting like foul intentions before the light of truth.

The slight wind that gusted in from the holes in the walls brought with it the smell of the ocean, decay and salt.
 
The shack was small and Spartan in its decor, consisting of only a cot and a traveling pack.  The windows of the hut stood broken and empty as the wind from a gathering tempest rose on the horizon and blew inland, the ocean writhing in whitecaps in its wake.
 
The lone occupant of the ruined, one-room hut stood, gazing with his emerald eyes at the shore and the waving reeds that danced wildly in the rising wind.  Smoke rose up in great plums around the man’s aged and tanned face which was pressed into a squint, watching a cloaked figure shuffling its way along a small dirt, path that led to the hut’s door.
 
Distant thunder rolled slowly across the vast expanse of coastline, the smell of cold rain filling the air as the temperature began to plunge drastically as the towering thunderheads obscured the sun.
 
The man in the hut listened to the sound of his own breathing, slow and steady, composed as always, a trait he prized in his servants.  The tobacco in the pipe bowl burned out but the man continued to suck on the stem, his mind elsewhere.
 
“Master Adin.”
 
The cloaked figure had drawn close to the hut and had stopped several feet from the window, planting his feet firmly into the sandy ground, his boots sinking in. 
 
The man watched as the cloaked figure removed his hood,revealing him to be a rather unremarkable looking mi’qote with black hair and white eyes.  The hyur lifted a hand to his pipe and removed it to speak in his calm, baritone voice.
 
“Well met, Rynsur.” Adin replied, his nostrils flaring as the scent of rain grew heavier but he did not invite the miqo’te inside.
 
“Master, you must forgive me.” Rynsur said with a salute.  Adin watched with his critical eyes.  Rynsur was a competent operative, but he lacked the refined mannerism that Jin’li seemed to ooze along with his blood.  “I was unprepared to learn you had come to Eorzea yourself.  I-“

“You did not know, because you did not need to.”  Adin replied simply as his hands pulled a small pouch of tobacco and began to refill the pipe bowl as he spoke.  “I need Jin’li where he is.  You, however, are not as vital to my efforts in Ul’dah and can move more freely.”
 
Rynsur was unable to hide his dissatisfaction with the answer, the miqot’e pride getting the better of him.
 
“I carried out my orders perfectly. It was Jin’li who-”Rynsur began.
 
“It was Jin’li,” Adin started, pausing to light a match, the flame burning in his eyes as he brought it to the bowl and ignited the dried leaves, that soon where smoldering and filling Adin’s mouth with sweet smoke.  “Whom followed my orders perfectly.  It is Jin’li who continues to confound those who foiled my plot for Ul’dah and it will be Jin’li who will keep the Ul’dah defenders divided and working against one another, just as he did last night when confronted by Lanza Razaul, that woman, and Kahn'a.”
 
“He is just a slave.” Rynsur protested, puffing his chest out.
 
“Then what are you then if he is more useful to me?”  Adin stood upright and glared at his subordinate.  Adin was not wearing his uniform but his body held itself strong and upright, indicating the man was an officer of high standing.  Rynsur took a step back andhad to break eye contact at Adin’s expression.
 
“I-“ Rynsur started.
 
“You are out of line speaking to me that way, Sergeant.”  Adin instructed, his voice level but powerful.  Adin was silent for a longtime as Rynsur snapped him a salute and held it.  It began to drizzle and the thunderheads were meeting the shoreline, the heavier rains about to fall.
 
“Since you have a thirst to prove yourself more useful than Jin’li,”  Adin mused calmly, his eyes still staring the miqo’te down,  “I am putting you in charge of hunting for Askier in Limsa.”
 
“So he is alive?”

Rynsur inquired, still holding the salute, the drizzle starting to matehis black, oily hair.
 
“I have my sources.” Adin answered, taking a deep inhale from his pipes and holding it in his lungs for a moment.  As he continued, smoke escaped his lips witheach word.  “A certain Flame Sergeant nowin my employee let that slip.”
 
“Sir, do you mean the one you made the bargain with regarding Askier’s freedom in exchange for his service?”
 
Adin nodded but said nothing.
 
“But” Rynsur probed, raising his voice as the storm broke and cold water fell in torrents upon him as he still held his salute.  “Did you not promise to spare Askier for that man’s service?”
 
“They promised me they would kill Askier.  They lied.  A lie begets another lie.  Find him, Rynsur.  Do not fail me.” Adin’s voice was cold.
 
“I won’t!” Rynsur exclaimed, his body tense as cold water ran down the inside of his robes.  Adin watched for a few moments longer, dry inside the hut.
 
“Dismissed, Rynsur.”

Adin ordered at last, turning and walking over to the cot.  The hyur settled himself on it and reached over to a small book lying beside him.

He picked it up and began to thumb through it.  It was a book on chess, and, although Adin had read it countless times since he was a boy, the man turned to page one and began to re-read it all over again.

((Based on events that occurred last night...why did they have to keep dropping my name... lol))

“How am I supposed to find a man who may not even be in this city?”  the female grumbled to herself as she sat alone at a table in “The Drowning Wench,” the sounds of Limsa echoing into the crowded room.  The hyur female wore a collection of loose fitting, grey robes and a brown scarf around her tan neck.  Her black hair and brown eyes gave her a drab appearance, though her narrow face was not unattractive.
 
The female’s choice in color was deliberate.  Grey’s and browns didn’t catch the eye and made her easy to be forgotten.
 
“The miqo’te was hard to track when he was our operative.” the woman reflected, bringing her half-consumed glass of wine to her lips and taking a small sip as her eyes moved around the mass of people moving around the room. “How are we expected to find…”
 
“…Askier.”
 
The name hadn’t been spoken loudly, or with any type of emphasis,but the woman heard it as if it had been a gunshot.  Her head slowly turned and her brown eyes fixed on two figures at the edge of the room sitting around a table.  One was a broad figure, likely hyur, clad from head-to-toe in armor.  The woman was dismissive of the armored hyur as she studied the other figure, whose face was hidden by a brown cowl.
 
“No way it was this easy.” the woman blinked in disbelief as she continued to watch.  “Surly no one is stupid enough to just drop that name.”

Part of her wanted to have misheard. After all, Askier and his allies had pulled a fast one on Jin’li not once but twice.  If they had managed it by not brilliance but by sheer dumb luck, how poorly would that reflect upon Master Adin?

The two figures spoke for a while and then parted, the female unable to make out their exact words.

She ignored the armored hyur as the cowled figure stood, a brown trail swung around and flicked itself as the figure started to leave.

“His face. I need to see it.” the woman muttered to herself as she tossed a few gil on the table and rose to follow, leaving her glass unfinished.  She had never seen Askier before, but knew his description.  Tall, brown hair, blue highlights, scars on his face, and missing his left eye.
 
The robed figure crossed a bridge and went to the railing lining a deep but narrow drop off.  The woman seated herself on a bench on the opposite side of the figure and watched, pretending to be reading a book.

A woman approached the hooded figure and they embraced.
 
Adin’s female spy continued to watch.
 
Now an armored figure appeared.  It removed its helmet, revealing itself to be a red-headed miqo’te.  The red-head was clad in thick steel and hauling around a large axe. 
 
The female could hear bits and pieces of their conversation.  Then the first armored figure from earlier, the hyur in armor, re-appeared, along with a third miqo’te whom had a bow strung across his back.
 
The woman’s face fell as she listened, hearing phrases like “sickly-runt”and “games” across the narrow divide although she did not catch every word.
 
“There is no way this collection of riff-raff could be the ones who defeated Askier, Adin, and Jin’li.  They were acting like a bunch of bickering children.  There was no subterfuge, no clever sentences.  Just a lot of bickering and one-liner quips.  This-“
 
“Shut up, Askier.”
 
The armored miqo’te had grunted these words loud enough for her to hear and the woman felt her heart fall since as the hooded figure seemed to accept the name without hesitation.
 
“Dear Emperor,” the woman pleaded in despair.  “Please tell me they are trying to mislead me and they aren’t actually being this stupid?”
 
The woman sat still for a while longer, the armored hyur and the hyur woman leaving together, the armored hyur male making a quip about two of the male miqo’tes being in need room 23. The woman let her face fall into her palm and she held it there as she cringed.

 
“This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening.” The female repeated over and over.  She heard footfalls and she looked up.  The three miqo’te where making their way across the bridge.  The armored male was letting the hooded miqo’te lean against him as the one with the bow followed.  The woman tried not to stare but she did and managed to catch a look at the face beneath the cowl. Only one, golden eye gleamed out from the shadows, the other covered in an eye patch.  The three miqo’te passed and the woman turned her head around the corner to watch as the hooded figure slowly walked up the stairs to his inn room alone.
 
The woman rose to her feet, weakly, walking over to the railing and putting in a linkpearl. Her voice was unsteady as she spoke softly.
 
“Ryn…Rynsur.”  she said the name hesitantly, trying to figure out how to report everything she had seen.
 
“Go ahead.” Rynsur’s miqo’te voice replied after a moment inher ear.
 
“I found them.” The female muttered with a disbelieving snort coming from her nose.
 
“Found who..Askier? Already?  Where? How?”  Rynsur stammered in surprise.

 
“Not just him, I think his allies as well judging by things I overheard.”
 
“Well, that was certainly faster than I had anticipated.  What did they do, use Askier’s name aloud around you?” Rynsur joked
 
The female spy said nothing.
 
“Please tell me, I wasn’t right with that.” Rynsur inquired flatly.
 
“No, you were.” The woman replied with a sing-song tone toher voice.
 
“How did they ever manage to- Doesn’t matter.  I’ll be there as soon as I can.  Where are you?”
 
“The Drowning Wench. I believe Askier just went to his room.” The woman replied.

 
“Keep an eye out but don’t move in.  I’ll tell Master Adin and will contact you when I am in Limsa.”

((DEAR LORD, wall of text.  I blame Osric for all this.  This is, mostly, a recap of what happened last night while rping, though what happened with Rynsur and Jin'li will have to wait till my next post cause this one has already taken long enough. lol))

The wind blew inland off the ocean, the night sky filled with the light of countless stars.  Adin was seated on the ground, his back against a tree, his right hand slowly massaging his chin as his eyes looked down at a pile of rocks that basked in the brilliant light of the full moon.  The Garlean hyur took a deep breath of the salty air, his mind slowly mulling over his plans in his mind.

"Master." came Jin'li's voice softly into Adin's ear through the black and gold link pearl he wore.  "I am in position to watch. Osric and C'kayah are preparing to fight."

"So Osric is actually going to go through with his assignment?" Adin mused slowly as he leaned forward and flicked a stone off the pile with the index finger of his left hand.  The stone flew a short ways before landing in the road.  "Jin'li, report to me once there is a victor.  And make sure to inspect the body of the loser if you are able. We both know how Osric likes to 'move' dead bodies."

"Yes, master." Jin'li replied without emotion and the linkpearl went silent.  Adin continued to stare at the small rock pile and wait.  It was a few minutes before his linkpearl came to life again, this time Rynsur's voice came through to Adin's ear.

"Major Adin." Rynsur said, his voice a hushed whisper.  "I followed Askier and the woman, Kanaria, to the small tavern "The Grey Fleet".  They have been inside for a few minutes and Kahn'a just arrived."

"This night is becoming more advantageous than I had first imagined." Adin permitted himself a smile.  "Rynsur, do you have your rifle?"

"As always, sir." Rynsur replied, a hint of annoyed offense in his voice.

"Good, when those three leave-"

"Sir, Askier just left the tavern and is headed up the road!"  Rynsur interrupted


"Towards Limsa?"  Adin asked calmly.

"Yes sir, looks like he is taking the road along the cliffs.  Should I take the shot?"

"No." Adin ordered, rising to his feet slowly, pulling his hand away from his chin. "If that is the road he is taking, I'll be seeing him soon enough.  Just keep an eye out. If Askier's allies try to follow, terminate them."

"Yes, sir."  Rysnur went silent and Adin's linkpearl went still.  Adin turned and looked down the road.  His pulse quickened slightly as he turned and picked up a long, wrapped roll of linen that rested by where he had been sitting.  It had been five years since Adin had seen Askier in the flesh.  Part of him was glad he was going to see him one last time before he kill the miqo'te.

***

Askier was walking down the road quickly, his boots crunching on the gravel as the sound of the ocean slamming itself against the base of cliffs rose up from far below.  The moonlight made it easy to see where he was going and Askier permitted his mind to wander.

"Kanaria." Askier muttered to himself softly, thinking back on the woman he had just left at "The silver Fleet" with Kahn'a.  He felt a pang of guilt knot his stomach.  The woman was terrified.  Adin's agent's constant hounding of Osric and Kahn'a was taking its toll on her and the fact that Adin knew her name made her go pale.  Askier owed her a debt and he was doing a poor job of repaying it.  Well, with all of his debts really.  Kahn'a and Osric had helped Askier fake his death to throw off Adin, and for their actions, they had drawn Adin's wrath. 


"Damn that man." Askier snarled, his pointed fangs gnashing in the moonlight as he marched with purpose up a small hill.  His head was angled down and he missed the two figures in black robes walking towards him until they passed on either side of him. 


A knife flashed and was up against Askier's throat faster than he could react.  Askier mentally kicked himself, realizing he had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts, he had forgotten to watch his surroundings.  The figure with the knife to his throat slipped behind Askier, while the other took a few steps back, planting its boots at the edge of the cliff and the long plunge to the ocean below.

"Who the hells are you?"  Askier snapped, his voice pained as he swallowed nervously, the blade sharp against his skin.

"I'm honestly disappointed how easy that was." came a voice Askier had not heard in five years.  The miqo'te's ear flicked and his one, golden eye looked forward as a tall, muscular shape emerged from behind a tree, a silver gunblade glinting wickedly in the light of the moon.  The hyur's face was tanned but showing signs of wrinkles and the scar across his sharp nose deep to deepen as he spoke.

"It's been a long time, Lieutenant Mergrey."  Adin purred softly, an amused smile on his lips.

"I'm surprised you had the balls to show up in person." Askier growled back as he was forced to tilt his head to the left as the knife was pressed tighter against his throat.

"Is that a good surprise or a bad one?" Adin inquired calmly.

"A 'go fuck yourself one.'" Askier retorted, hatred oozing in his voice.

"Is that really how you great your old commanding officer?  Your old friend? Your old-" Adin said, taking a few steps forward, his boots shifting gravel as he did so.

"Anything positive you were to me, died when you had Jin'li take Saravena and forced me to build that bomb." Askier interrupted loudly, glaring at Adin with hatred flaring in his golden optic as the dull eye behind his eye patch narrow.

"Funny, I could say the same thing about when you deserted and shot me." Adin answered with a shrug of his shoulders.

"You'll forgive me if I no longer felt Saravena was safe inside the Empire after watching Eorzean volunteers stagnate our army's advanced before Bahamut tore the rest to dust."  Askier shot back.

"I could have protected you." Adin said quietly, looking at Askier sadly as he studied the scars and cuts on the miqo'te's face.  So many wounds that had not been there five years ago.  And that patch over Askier's eye, what a waste.


"Not from your own ambition." Askier spat back.  "I'm surprised your sons aren't part of your pawn collection like your wife is."

"Their time is coming."  Adin admitted.  "They are almost of age."

"You're sick!" Askier howled in anger.  "Does anyone in this world mean anything to you?"  Askier felt his blood pulsing in his head, thinking of just how used Adin had made him feel.

"Only the Empire matters.  Only keeping it strong and it's enemies weak." Adin remarked as he drew the hammer back on his gunblade, the six-chamber cylinder spinning slowly before locking into place with a loud clicking noise.

The knife at Askier's throat loosened and the cloaked figure stepped to the side, pulling the knife away.  Askier saw the barrel of the firearm lift into the air as Adin leveled it at his chest.

"So this is how it end?" Askier asked despairingly, his fists clenching as he stared his former commander down, his chest rising quickly and his one eye looked around for a way of escape.  There was no cover, no were to hid.  Just a cliff to  his left and a field of waving reeds to his right.

"Almost.  We will still take your body back to the Empire and give you a hero's burial. We'll spin a story of how you managed, alone, to almost break the city of Ul'dah.  Will inspire generations."

Adin's finger went to fire when his linkpearl buzzed into life.  The voice was Jin'li, but Jin'li was gargling, as if his mouth and throat were full of fluid.

"Master! Does this one answer, or does this one die?"

Adin stood still in that moment, his mind running over Jin'li's words in his mind. That was the phrase Adin had order Jin'li to tell him should Jin'li ever be about to die.  But how? Jin'li was too- Osric!  Osric had tricked Jin'li somehow.  The swine!  Always lies with that one.  Adin pressed his free hand to his ear and barked his order:

"Jin'li, you are not to die.  That is an order.  You tell Osric I am hunting Askier as we speak and that I will see him in Ul'dah."  Adin did not listen to Jin'li's thankful reply as he turned his scowling face to Askier, who was smirking darkly.

"What's the matter, Adin? Things not going the way you planned? Osric has a tendency to do things like that, doesn't he?"  Askier flexed his fingers, noting the firearm was wavering slightly.

"A few pawns occasionally need to be lost." Adin retorted.  He was distracted, trying to reform his plans.  Loosing Jin'li would cause the entire organization of his units in Eorzea to weaken until he could find a replacement for his slave.

"You. I'm coming for you." Osric's voice suddenly buzzed into Adin's ear and the Garlean officer curled his lip into a silent snarl


 "Did you kill my slave?"  was all Adin replied.

"I'm the better servant. Or would be, if you didn't insist on breaking contract." Osric answered smugly.

 "I've broken no contract, Osric."Adin said sternly.

 "ASKIER WAS TO BE LEFT ALONE!" Osric shouted angrily regarding the agreement the two hyurs had made

"The contract was based on your lie from the beginning.  Did you expect me to keep my word, when you were unable to do so from the start?  Askier should have been dead already.  This is your fault."  Adin explained rationally.


"And the initial contract was with Kahn'a, you cheating ASS." Osric growled


"As Kahn'a superior, you are responsible for his actions, SERGEANT! It's called chain-of-command.  I'm sure even here, on this backwards little continent, you can understand this concept." Adin snarled.

"...that's right. I'm responsible. And you're-dead-." Osric hung up the linkpearl.


Adin had to take a few, deep breaths to steady himself as the gunblade shook in his hand. Osric had phased him, though Adin did not want to admit it.  Three times now that hyur had managed to complicate Adin's schemes and Adin had finally had enough of the man's cocky tone.  He was going to-

Askier seized his chance, seeing how unsteady Adin's arm was.  As fast as he was able, Askier reached over and seized the figure who had held the knife to his throat by the arm.  The figure screamed as Askier dragged the cloaked attacked in front of him by the arm, twisting it and forcing the knife to drop from the hand.


Adin saw this and fired, his firearm erupting loudly and brilliantly in the night air.  The figure Askier held shuddered violently as Adin's bullet blew a hole in his back, blood splattering the road.  Asker threw the corpse aside at the other hooded figure.  The second figure gave out a blood curdling scream as the dead body slammed into it and both forms went  tumbling over the cliff. 


Askier's boot shift and he sprinted towards Adin, his teeth bared to bite.  Adin pulled the hammer back on his firearm, the cylinder spinning.  Askier felt his heart sink as Adin swung the barrel at him once again, the moonlight dazzling on the polished metal.  Askier was too far away.  Askier had missed his chance.  He continued to sprint at Adin, even though he knew it was hopeless.  Askier lifted his hand to his ear, shouting:

"Kahn'a, get Kanaria out of there!  It's Adin, they found me, they-" 

Adin fired.

The left side of Askier's gut exploded in a shower of blood and muscle as the bullet tore into Askier.  The miqo'te had been shot before by arrows, but the pain from this wound was overwhelming.  Askier's sprint stopped as his inertia caused him to skid before he toppled forward, over the side of the cliff.

Askier's lone, golden eye watered in pain as he looked down at the ocean below him.  Time seemed to stand still as he fell, the wind whistling through his brown hair.  Blood coated the side of his paints and his hands were holding the wound as if they somehow might stop the blood loss.  Overhead the stars shone bright, looking down as the miqo'te plunged towards the rolling ocean below  As Askier fell, one thought filled his mind, and the closer he got to the sea, the more and more he thought it:

This is gonna hurt like hell when I hit.

Askier then plunged through the surface of the water, the impact knocking all his air from his lungs.  The salty brine swirled around him and into his bleeding wound.  The pain was unbearable and Askier let himself lose to the blackness that enveloped his mind.

***

Atop the cliff, Adin gazed down at the water, noting the pool of red darkening where Askier had hit.  A long fall, but not a terrible one.  The Major aimed his firearm and discharged the remaining for shots into eh water.  Adin had no way of knowing if Askier could have survived the fall, but with the wound in his side, Adin doubted Askier would be alive for long.

The Garlean officer turned, lifting his left hand to his ear.

"Rynsur, kill Kanaria and Kahn'a and then return to Limsa."

"Aye, sir." Rynsur replied.  Adin looked around an then spoke into his linkpearl one, last time.

"Rema." Adin said calmly.  A moment later, a female voice answered:

"Yes, Major?"

"I am going to try and recover Jin'li.  When I return to Limsa, have your healing ready for him and our airship ready to depart.  We are leaving Limsa for Ul'dah."

"Yes, sir." Rema answered.  Adin then turned to the road.  Blood from Askier and Adin's operative blackened the gravel path, pooling and glinting in the moonlight.  Adin ignored the puddles as he slowly marched, his feet taking him to where he knew Osric and C'kayah had  arranged their fight, or their fake one, to where Jin'li was bleeding out slowly.


Askier was out of the game, and thanks to Rynsur, Kahn'a and Kanaria would be shortly.  Adin had the utmost faith in Rynsur's combat skills.  Only Osric  remained for Adin to punish now, and he would take his time with him.

((This post is a collection of edits, new writing, and logs from our rp last night.  As such, it might be a little jumpy due to the nature of how it was constructed, but I felt was important enough to said plot resolution to put it here.  You have been warned.  Please note, Osric, Kahn'a and Kanaria all all respective property of their creators.))

Rynsur rose from the grassy spot he had been lying in, his chainmail clinking together softy as he clutched his gunblade in his hands, the weapon was long and sinister looked, like a spear.  Rynsur had grown tired of waiting and Adin had just given him his order to kill. So he was going to do so quickly. 


The miqo’te strode down the hill and up to the door of “The Steel Fleet.”  Runsur didn’t even bother to listen before he kicked the door open with his booted heel.  He door flew inward and slammed.  Rynsur stormed in quickly as the door recoiled on its hinges and shut again.  Rynsur spied his targets and gave his weapon a spin as he brought the butt of the weapon into the cradle of his shoulder and aimed it straight a Kahn’a’s toros.  Rynsur pulled the trigger and the firearm discharged with a thunderous roar inside the small building.

Kanaria Galanodel turned her eyes quickly to the door and stumbled backwards seeing Rynsur entering with a weapon pointed their way. She glared at Rynsur with her lavender eyes as she reached her hand into her robes, drawing out a book and flipping it open.

Kahn'a Od'hilkas barely had the time to 'unfold' his bow asa thundering sound cracked the air. Kahn'a grunted loudly as he took a shot in his side, though it was not a serious wound. Pushed backwards by the force and surprise, he stumbled only to lose balance and fall on his behind. He felt great danger the instant his back connected with the floor.  Kahn'a Od'hilkas hurled his body to the side,electrified by the adrenaline. Trying to take cover behind a table, he grabbed a bottle laying there, and threw it with all his force at the assassin as he brought fingers to his ear, furiously rubbing it to connect the pearl.

"O-Osric! You listen to this, RIGHT NOW! If you're anywhere near, bring yourself to the Grey Fleet, AT ONCE!"

Rynsur did not let the smoke from his rifle finish wafting from the barrel before he was charging forward. 
He neared Kanaria, and swung, the blade of his weapon slicing through the air towards her middle.  However, the bottle thrown by Kahn’a slammed into his arm and Rynsur’s attack went wide, though it caused to Kanaria to fall backwards onto the floor.  The book fell from her trembling fingers and she left it where it had fallen as she twisted and started to crawl her way

Rynsur watched the woman crawl and crowed triumphantly as hehefted his rifle and aimed it down at the crawling woman.  "You two, you two are absolutelypathetic!  How you managed to stop Askierand fool Lord Adin is beyond me.  Justdie."  Rynsur drew back the hammerof the gunblade, the six cylinder chamber turning to the second round.  The miqo'te pulled the trigger just as Osric Melkireburst through the doorway, left hand drawn back, then thrown forward in a hook at Rynsur's face as Osric's left side connects with the rifle, momentum carrying him forward, right hand grabbing the barrel and raising it up high.

"Ah fuck me!"

Rynsur cursed as Osric's blow connected with Rynsur's face, but themiqo'te didn’t release his grip on the rifle as the barrel swung upwards and discharged.  The recoil from the riflecaused Rynsur to fall backwards. In a swift motion, Rynsur rolled Osric over on top of him and successfully kicked the hyur up into the air and away just Kanaria’s hand grasped a stool and hurled it through the air, accidentally hitting Osric with the improvised projectile. Osrc’s crumpled in a heap against the wall.
 
 Meanwhile, Kahn'a lept forward, grabbed hold of his bow, drew back the stringwith all the frustration and  anger hehad accumulated over the past weeks and let the arrow fly at Rynsur’s neck.
 
Rynsur jerked and went rigid.  The miqo'te male looked down the arrow protruding from his throat.   Rynsur opened and closed his mouth slowly and stared at Kahn'a in dumbfounded horror as he realized what had just happened. 


They've killed me.' Rynsur thought in dispair.  'This collection of idiot misfits, killed me'


Rynsur dropped his rifle and continued to stare at Kahn'a fora moment until Kanaria picked up her book from the floor and hurled a spell his way. The blast sent Rynsur flying onto the ground, his eyes wide in disbelief as he looked at the wooden floor, waiting to die as blood rushed down his throat.


"Gods I'm sorry!" Kanaria apologize to Osric as the Hyur man groaned.   “You deserve a good beating but I didn’t mean for right now!”

Rynsur shuddered, trying to pick himself up.  Kanria turned her eyes to the assassin and shouted:
 
" Restrain him! There's information to be had!"

Osric pushed himself shakily off the wall and half-crawled,half-scooted to Rynur’s side, turning the assassin over on his back carefully.

"It's in his gods-damned -neck-!"Osric exclaimed,looking down at the wicked barb that went through both sides of the throat

Rynsur felt the hands on him.  He thought for a moment they were going to makeit quick.
Kahn'a Od'hilkas dropped his bow and he stepped over to grab hold of Rynsur. He cast a look at the assassin’s neck. "He's not going to die, damnit!" he confirms. "But you've got to get it out!"

"I need a knife!" Osric ordered urgently as Rynsur twitched.

Kanaria Galanodel fell to her knees beside Rynsur andplanted a hand to steady herself on his chest, the other on his forehead.


"Kahn'a did you use the same type of arrow you used the last time?" Kanaria asked as she pulled the cowled cloak from her from and tossed it away so she could see better. Black hair sprayed over her shoulders and down her back as her lavender eyes looked up to Osric. "Don't you have enough knives your possession?!"
"Spent them on all on Jin’li, damn it!" Osric growled angrily.

Rynsur thought slowly as he felt blood running down his throat.  He was a soldier. Had been once.  Had even taken orders from Askier.  He didn't want to die, what soldier did, butif he was to die, he wanted it to be quick.

These three assholes seemed intent on dragging it out.

Kahn'a Od'hilkas quickly nodded to Kanaria, ignoring Osri’csoutburst. "Yes, look!" he said, pointing at the tip of the arrow. “Just, cut it with something and pull it away, he won't bleed out, the big vein hasn't been touched, look!" he insists, motioning angrily.

".....Don't yell at me!" Kanaria ordered as she glared at Osric and Kahn’a before she pulled her knife from her boot while the other hand took hold of the arrow. "Hold him."  The female hyur pushed Rynsur’s head awayfrom her and cut off the arrow at the tip and pulls the shaft out from his neck by the feathers.
Rynsur arched his back as the arrow jerked around in his flesh while Osric Melkire gritted his teeth, holding the assassin's head still.  Blood splattered from Rynsur’s lips as he gasped weakly:

"Stop torturing me already."


"Your friend Jin'li had his fair share; why not you?"Osric grinned savagely just before Kahna shouted at Rynsur:

"Shut THE HELL UP!"  Kahn’a then rose to his feet, slamming Rynsur against the floor, pressing his boot on Rynsur, who began to scream in agony.
 
"OD'HILKAS,the wound, man!" Osric yelled.

"Bastard can bleed out where he lies,” Kahn'a Od'hilkas growled loudly.  “Or I'll kill him myself. You best make him disappear once you're done with him."
 
With a grunt, Kah'na stepped back, drawing his eyes awayfrom the scene to take a breather.

 Kanaria Galanodelglared at the both Kahn’a and Osric.


"Quiet!" Kanaria order as she picked her book backup and lifted her left hand shakily over Rynsur’s throat. Green waves of energy soon bled from her hand into the wound starting to heal it.

Rynsur felt the flesh and muscle in his neck start to knit and he shuddered.  He had been healed by magic before and he had never enjoyed the experience.  They were going to get information out of him, Rynsur realized.

Osric Melkire slid under the Rynsur, wrapping his arms around Rynsur’s as Osric’s legs did the same, effectively pinning Rynsur to the floor as his neck finished healing.

"Private, you're up." Osric said to Kahn’a “Can'tdo this myself."

Kahn'a Od'hilkas growled viciously. He spat to the side, awave of hatred washing over him.


"FINE!"

"New to the torture thing?" Rynsur scoffed as he looked up at Kahn’a.

Osric Melkire whispered into Rynsur's ear... "RedWings."
 
"And that's supposed to scare me?" Rynsur snarledback.

"It should.”  Osricsaid ominously.


 
Outside of “The Steel Fleet” the night wind was rising,tussling the reeds.  A cricket was chirping loudly as the badly beaten door to the tavern swung open and Osric and Kanaria left.  The cricket continued to chirp fora long time.  It could hear voices bu tdid not understand any words coming from the two miqo’te inside.  After a while, the conversation stopped and there was silence.  Even the cricket stopped as it felt the need to suddenly do so.

A few moment slater, Kahn’a emerged from the building, and the cricket saw blood covering Kahn’a’s hands but did not understand the meaning behind it.  Once Kahn’a was gone, the cricket resumed its chirping as Rynsur’s soul moved to the next life.
 
Several hours later, a hyur male, leading a chocobo, slowly walked his way up the road alongside “The Steel Fleet.”  Across the back of the chocobo was draped a white haired miqo’te, whose thin frame and pale flesh were covered in blood.  The man paused as he heard a cricket chirping and turned to look as a gust of wind blew opened the door to “The Steel Fleet” and Adin had a clear line of sight to Rynsur’s corpse lying prone, an arrow protruding from his chest.
 
Adin wasn’t surprised
. 
He had been trying to contact Rynsur for nearly two hours and had received no reply.  Adin looked at the dead body of Rynsur and felt a pang of regret.  The sergeant had served with Adin for nearly ten years.  He had met Rynsur even before he had metAskier or Jin’li.  And now Rynsur was dead.  Rynsur was a useful pawn.  Things would be hard without him. 
 
Adin resumed his walk, the chocobo following behind him carrying the unconscious form of Jin’li.  The distant lights of Limsa loomed ahead and, somewhere in there, was an airship that would take Adin to Ul’dah, and the next part of his plan.

((Would like to thank Osric for writing the majority of this post and sending to to me to add my part.  You, sir, are as awesome as ever. ))


Blackness and fog. It was all Askier saw.  He stood in an empty void.

"Askier!" shouted Adin's voice.  Askier spun and there Adin stood, tall as Askier, his brown hair slicked back in the same way Askier had come to do, mimicking the hyur's style.  Adin's narrow face and emerald eyes seemed to glow with an inner light as Adin reached up and placed his hands on the back of Askier's head, placing his face inches from Askier's.

"Do you truly hate me after all we've shared?" Adin cooed softly.

"Yes!" Askier snarled, his hand swinging forward through Adin, through the blackness, through the veil of unconsciousness and back into the realm of reality.

***



Askier coughed, gasped for breath, sat upright, coughed some more, blood and salt water spraying from his mouth.

The girl shrieked and scrambled back, dropping a rather large tome.

"Holy hells that hurts!" Askier screamed as the wound in his side flared to life and he clutched at it as his eyes started to water and his teeth gnashed rapidly

The little, drenched boy in the back of the rowboat shot to his feet, came forward, and shoved the Miqo'te back down, held him there. "Stay still. She's not very good at this."

"T-t-thomys, is he..."

"All you, Dani." The dark-haired adolescent stood up, dripping, turned back to the oars, raised a hand to one ear.

"Cori? We've got'm... easy, easy, didn't hit no rocks, aight...? You okay? They didn't see you...?"

"Who are you? Are you Adin's men?!" Askier paniced, his body too weak to fight the boy holding him down and his mind too foggy to think clearly.

"...he didn't send us," whispered the girl as she took up her tome again. "Cori overheard you... at the Wench... and Tom... Tom knows Sisipu, so...."

She flipped a few pages, then laid a hand on his wound and closed her eyes again.

"Who are you then?" Askier said, mistrust burning in his golden eye as the left eye stared dull and empty, a tear of blood pooling inside the ruined optic.

Thomys sat down, took up the oars, and grinned.

"Y'just sit still, aight? You're goin' to meet Andy."

"I don't feel reassured." Askier groaned as the blackness began to wrap it's tendrils back around his mind and pull him back into the depths of unconsciousness.

***

The liftkeeper was down and bleeding out, so Osric Melkire lowered his shoulder and slammed through the door to the side instead, taking the revolving stairs two at a time. He held up the tracker and glanced at it. The needle was steady... and then it shook, shifting to his left, up the stairwell.

His eyes widened. Instead of taking the next stair, he planted his forward foot and pushed back...


"KAHN'A!"

...just as a hooded figure spun a step down, raised a rifle, and fired. The shot went ricocheting off the stone walls, screeching as it went, as Osric stumbled backwards and slammed into the same wall...

Od'hilkas turned the corner right behind him, stepped up, bow raised, arrow already nocked and drawn, and loosed.

The hooded figure drew her head back - it was undoubtedly a she, the figure was too slim and lithe to be anything but - and the arrowhead only nicked her cheek, slicing through the hood as it went. The woman turned...

"Go, go, go!"

Od'hilkas hadn't needed Melkire's urging; he was after her like a coeurl after apkallu, the sergeant right behind him. They hit the landing just as she hopped the gate to the docking area, turned, and fired again.

Osric, the man in black, took the bullet in the shoulder and went down.

The private gritted his teeth, drew another arrow, and fired. The woman ducked.

Beyond, by an airship of unfamiliar make, another hooded figure... with an albino Miqo'te slung over his shoulder.

Jin'li.

"Rema, we're leaving!" the second figure ordered with a shout.

The woman glanced back as she fanned the trigger one more time... Osric pushed himself to one knee...

She took aim again and fired.

It was over. Adin was dead.  So was Jin'li and Rynsur.

Only Rema and Drek remained.

There were others, of course, inside Adin's units whom might be able to rise up and lead.  But Rema wasn't permitting that.  She had already informed the Imperial High command of Adin's demise and the status of the clandestine units in Eorzea.  She was to be promoted, and given complete control of Adin's troops.

The hyur female smiled to herself as she stood in the streets of Ul'dah, gazing around.  She was about to leave, taking an airship north and then a ship further north till she came to her homeland once more. There she would receive her promotion and orders.  She wasn't sure how long it would be until she returned, but once she did, she was going to make Ul'dah her target.  But not to destroy as Adin had.  No, she wasn't like Adin.  She would conquer it, win over the people of Ul'dah, and turn into a puppet of the empire.  But that was a long ways off.

Beside Rema stood a hooded Roe, the male massive in size.  A bag was slung over his shoulder.  Jin'li's body was inside.  Rema had recovered it to return it to the Empire as the sick miqo'te had wished.  She had left Adin's body.  She had never liked the man and his methods.

As she went to walk again, she saw a walking figure wearing a green robe with brown hair spilling down around golden eyes.  Rema paused as the figure twitched his tail and Rema could tell he was keeping a low profile.

"Askier." Rema whispered softly as she seized the man's arm and pressed a knife to the male miqo'tes side.  Askier's eyes jerked around as he went stiff.

"Got to watch for knives apparently." Askier growled, studying Rema's tan face.  Rema nodded, her brown eyes studying the taller male.

"You should.  Congratulations by the way." Rema said softly

"Why? Who are you?" Askier snarled as she pressed the knife tighter into him but did not break the skin.

"Because Adin is dead and I'm pulling out his troops form Ul'dah for a time.  Your allies did an amazing job of stopping him while you were in Limsa nursing that gun wound."

"So you're his replacement?" Askier grunted.  He had been sorry he had missed Adin and Jin'li being killed but he had been too busy bleeding and being healed by the mysterious Lady Grace and her healer to have been able to stop Adin. 

"I am." Rema purred as she pulled her dagger away a few inches but kept it pointed at Askier.  "I'm leaving with Jin'li's body.  My troops have been ordered to leave Ul'dah until my return.  I'm giving you, your sister, and your allies a chance to rest.  I'm not Adin, nor have I ever liked his methods. I'll be coming for Ul'dah, but not to destroy.  To conquer."

"Then I'll be here waiting to stop you." Askier said coldly, his eyes studying Rema.  "This is my home now."

"How touchingly sentimental." Rema smiled at the miqo'te.  "I wish you would serve your old homeland willingly again. You would be welcomed back with open arms if we played our story right.  I-"

"Stop." Askier shook his head.  "I'm a Garlean miqo'te, but I don't have any other ties to my homeland now.  I'm done with the Empire."

"But we aren't with you, Askier." Rema winked.  "I looked forward to seeing you and your friends again.  Also, take that Lady Kanaria somewhere nice.  She was willing to let Jin'li's final wish come true.  It's a rare quality to find someone who treats their enemies so well."

Rema stepped away and began walking through the crowd, the massive Roe following after her.  Askier contemplated going after her, stopping her.  But someone else would replace her if he did.  And Rema seemed a million times better than Adin.  Askier watched until the Roe and hyur woman disappeared and turned back to the city street.

The sun shone hot down onto the paved road, the smell of dust and sweat filling the air.  A cool wind was blowing and it rustled his hair and tickled his nose.

Askier wasn't sure what he would do next, or how many people still wanted him dead inside Ul'dah.  But he didn't care. He was free, he was happy, and he was home.

Askier smiled and disappeared into the crowd, just another face lost inside the city of a million stories.

Jin’li coughed, blood spraying from inside his lungs into his hand, which covered his mouth.  There was a lot, and Jin’li had so very little to lose. 
He was weak, his body frailer and less strong than it had been before he was stabbed through the lung in Ul’dah.

He had lost so much of his blood in that street. He should have died, he had come so close, seen what lay beyond the fabric of this world.  Seen his old master, Adin, waiting. 
 
But his new master was kind.
 
Jin’li pulled out a white cloth and wiped his hand clean ofthe sickly, red blood.
 
She had come to him before.

Given him the vial, pleaded with him to take.  Jin’li had to honor the woman.  He had not known what it was until he had been dragged back into his body and seen her face looking down at him, a worried smile on her lips.
 
Lady Rema had saved a poor slave for she was kind.  Kind enough to try and fix his body, which, after two close calls had become for more than just feeble.  His muscles were nearly dead from two long periods of deprived red blood cells.  He would never heal entirely, and his diseases would kill him, but, for now, Jin’li was able to move due to the power of magictek. 
It did not grant him superior strength or speed.  He still moved slowly, but he could move, and that was all Jin’li needed to serve his new master.
 
She had left him with gifts to give those whom had slain Adin while she was away.  His new master had never liked his old.  Jin’li could not voice his displeasure.  His old master had saved him just as his new master had.  He loved both his masters equally and felt conflict.  He should kill himself andjoin his first master, but his new master wished him to live and Jin’li could only obey as a slave should.
 
Jin’li looked around the city street of Ul’dah, a box resting in his lap as he sat straight, his hands folded on the box in his lap as he gazed around waiting to see one he should give the gift to.  His old master had wanted the city destroyed.  His new master was more ambitious. Jin’li would serve his new master till his body finally could contain his soul no more.  For a slave must serve a master.
 
And his new master is kind.

“What’s wrong with him?” the woman screamed in the alley between the tents that stood outside Ul’dah as the man she loved coughed blood and writhed upon the ground.  It had happened so fast!  One moment he had been laughing with her and now, and now….
 
A small crowd watched but none wanted to draw close to theman as his eyes rolled into his head and his body convulsed, deep gargle noise coming from his throat.  The man was just a refugee, camped outside the walls of Ul’dah.

No one would miss him being dead save for those close to him.
 
The ”doctor” dressed in flowing robes and a large hood stood a ways off, watching behind rimmed spectacles as his toxin claimed the man’s life.

The "doctor" had expected it to take around ten minutes from being exposed to the venom for the man to be at this state. It had only been eight minutes since the “doctor” had walked by and pricked the man in the hand with his poisoned needle.  The “doctor's” victim would be dead soon, eleven minutes the "doctor" surmised, adjusting his calculations.  The first stage in his testing was complete it would seem.  His serum was lethal enough,but it still resisted his efforts for him to find a proper way to distribute the toxin other than direct injection.
 
The “doctor” was not concerned.  The poison would be perfected in time.  The figure stood still as the dying victim shuddered and went totally still.  The woman’s wail pierced the air, rising above the sound of flapping canvas as a desert wind gusted violently.

The room was small, lit by the light of a single window and several flickering oil lamps.  The smell of herbs and medicine filled the air, tinged with the metallic odor of blood.  Several table stood arranged side by side.  On the first stood a collection of beakers and vials, several bubbling as flames burned beneath them.  Upon the second was a still figure, covered in a cloth.  On the third, rested the sleeping Jin'li, his pale flesh and white hair giving him a ghostly appearance in the dim light.  A fourth table was covered in mechanical contraptions and small bags of a powder of a deep black.  A small vial of a sinister cyan color stood beside the power. The "doctor" stood before this last table, gloved hands carefully pulling long, hair thin needles from a small box and dipping them inside the blue liquid before attaching them with great care to the outside of a small, hand sized object made of pottery, with a short fuse sticking from the end.

The "doctor" wore a green robe and a hood covered the "doctor's" face, a pair of golden eye peering from beneath the cowl as the figure gently inserted another of the needles into a slot on the exterior of the small explosive.  The needles were made of a thin, granite alloy.  Easy to shatter.  But that was the point.  The needles were coated in the vile, cyan serum and would fly through the air, poking holes in flesh and injecting the deadly venom as they shattered and became almost impossible to find.  The explosive was a low grade one, and would sound like nothing more than a firework going off. Indeed, fireworks were to be the "doctor's" cover for this test, for the "doctor" had even infused blue colors into the powder.

The linkpearl inside the "doctor's" ear buzzed and the "doctor" carefully removed the gloves before bringing a hand to the ear beneath the cowl.

"Lady Rema?" the "doctor" whispered softly as the sounds of laughter came in from the window.

"Doctor." Rema's voice was polite and the "doctor" marveled at how different she was from Adin.  "How goes the construction?'

"You will need to specify, my Lady." the "doctor" answered as the figure rose to it's feet, a brown, fuzzy tail swishing as the "doctor" moved to the window and shut it, the golden eyes looking down at the street.  "Mine, Jin'li's, or the poison?"

"All three."  Rema replied eagerly.  The "doctor" marveled at how she actually appreciated hard work, unlike Adin.

"I am still completing mine, but it is mostly done.  It has been painful without the milk of the poppy but I will endure.  As for Jin'li," the doctor looked over at the sleeping miqo'te with pity in the golden optics, the only visible feature beneath the cowl.  "His wiring is complete, but the blood transfusions are taking time. At this time, I am optimistic, however.  Given enough time, I foresee him recovering up to eighty percent of his mobility, and I do not mean just prior to his near death, I refer to when he was in his prime.  His cardiovascular system, however, was heavily damaged by the stab wound to his left lung and he will be unable to fight or engage in heavy running for more than a few minutes.  There is no way to restore that part of him.  I remain unable to cure his other ailments as well."

"Splendid, doctor." Rema replied.  "And our venom?"

"It has been perfected as a poison.  I am testing it's capability at mass harm today.  If the test is conclusive, I shall make several vials before experimenting with the base ingredients to make it water soluble and possibly converting it to a gas.  Lady Rema, how is it you are contacting me on this linkpearl, are you not in the Empire?"

"I was." Rema answered.  "Thank you for all your hard work, doctor.  You will be rewarded accordingly."

"Thank you, Lady Rema." the "doctor" replied gratefully as the linkpearl went dead.  The golden eyes continued to watch the street below before walking over to a pair of leather gloves and putting them on.  The "doctor" then picked up the device and placed it inside a satchel and then walked out the door, putting the satchel over a robed shoulder and locking the door.

The child was in awe.  The small fireworks lit up in the young boy's eyes a dozen feet above his head as he held his mother's hand.  They were refugees and they lived in squalor outside Ul'dah with so many others.  They were not used to such displays.  But the two men with the fireworks were entertaining them and making the child forget the fact that his stomach growled. 

The two men and their fireworks said that they had been hired by a kind stranger to perform their trade for them with a small show for free, the stranger having already covered the cost.  The only request the stranger had asked is that a special firework be ignited in the middle of the show.  It just had.
Aall those gathered to watch examined the special firework as it rested on the ground as others went off around it.  The fuse slowly burned down.  The boy looked excitedly.  He was the only child this close to the fireworks, and he was going to tell all his friends how amazing it had been.  The fuse burned down and the boy was excited as the red and blues danced around him is it went off.  It was beautiful.  Everyone applauded but several onlookers, a large number actually the boy suddenly realized, we holding necks and hands and arms as if they had just been stung by a nasty insect.  Small drops of blood welled up on some as if they had been pricked by needles and both the men setting off fire works stopped moving for a moment, each holding a different spot on their body.  The boy looked at his mother, and she looked around nervously as more and more people began holding parts of their body.  The fireworks stopped.  And then the screaming started.

Almost in unison, men and women collapsed onto the ground.  Those unaffected stepped back and the mother wrapped her boy in her arms and pulled him away as the boy's eyes widen in terror as several people began foaming at the mouth and coughing blood as their bodies writhed in pain.  The two men who had been setting off the fireworks also collapsed. 

A figure in green robes and a large hood stepped forward, a white cloth covering the face as it knelt down, examining the one of the victims.  A blue light glowed in the figure's hand, as it appeared he was casting a cure spell.  There was silence save for the screams of the afflicted. 

"Everyone stay back!"  the green robed figure shouted suddenly, a brown tail wrapping itself around the figure's waist.  The miqo'te in green rose to it's feet quickly and back peddled away from the victim it had been studying.  "The people are infected with disease! Summon the Flames.  This whole area could be infected!"

Several victims coughed, spraying blood onto the desert sands, steaks of cyan mixed in with the deep crimson.  The mother held her son and looked at the figure in green as it stared down at the writhing figures.

"How can you be sure?" she screamed in panic.

"You can trust me."  the "doctor" answered from behind it's white clothe and large hood that shadowed its face.  "I am a doctor.  These people have the "Blue Blood" disease.  Keep away and get the Flames, these bodies must be burned least it spread!"

A ripple of fearful whispering rolled over those who had heard, thought other wailed as they knelt by loved ones. 

"Help them, doctor!" the mother screamed as she clutched her boy.  The "doctor" shook it's cowled head and spun in a booted heel.

"There is no cure for the disease."  the doctor began walking off, the wind tugging violently at the green robes it wore.

"There is an antidote, however."  the "doctor" mused as the the "doctor" headed towards the Gate of Nald.  The test was conclusive, the poison was weaponizeable, and the panic had been sown.  A fake disease, terrified refugees, and soon the Flames to help fuel the fires of confusion.  Rema's plan was brilliant and it was just beginning.  And the doctor's part to play was far from over.

"So do we tell the high command?!" the Garlean hyur named Drek stammered nervously.  "The Doctor" gazed at the hyur for a moment with  golden eyes from behind his face mask and shook his head.  The two stood outside a small hut near Ul'dah, the night sky clear above them.

"We continue as planned." "The Doctor" replied, looking through the crack in the double doors of the hut at Jin'li, who stood, shirtless, a wooden stick clutched in his hands.  The white-haired slave's body was fuller and less sickly than before.  "The Doctors" work on the muscles of Jin'li was moving along wonderfully.  However the internal diseases and the cardiovascular system of the slave were beyond him, and now "The Doctor" was forced to consider the miqo'te mental state, which he found beyond diagnosis save for a simple fact, Jin'li's mind was broken.  "The doctor" guessed Jin'li would not live more than another cycle or two at most.

"So we are to take orders from a murdering slave who hacked off Rema's head?"  Drek snarled.  "I'm ending this.  I'm telling-"

"Who else among our forces knows that Rema is dead other than you and I?" "The Doctor" interrupted, his voice muffled through the fabric of his mask.

"No one, just-"

"The Doctor" stepped forward, a needle spinning in his hands as he shoved it into the hyur's jugular.  High pressured blood splattered out, onto the ground and tDrek slammed onto the sands, gargling.

"Rema gave me orders, and I mean to finish this, whether it's at her words or her slave's.  So long as the job is accomplished, what does it matter who makes the puppets dance?"

"The Doctor" peered back in through the crack in the door and lept back as a single, onyx black eye gazed back at him, devoid of emotion as white-hair spilled around it, framing it, making the black hue more pronounced.

"My masters heard what you just said, Master Doctor." came Jin'li's flat voice, quiet and polite.  "Know that you have honored them and that they are pleased with your service.  Accept this humble slave's thanks, and know you will be rewarded in time."

"Tell your masters," "the doctor bowed, playing along.  He knew the "masters" whom spoke to Jin'li were dead and only heard inside Jin's head.  "The act of using my skills for such an end is reward enough."

"They have heard you, and are honored.  Now, please excuse this instrument, I need rest."  Jin'li shut the door and "The Doctor" gave out a sigh behind his mask.  He had worked for a lot of different employees over the years, including Jin'lis two, formerly alive, masters.  And never, in all his years of killing and studying the anatomy of living things, had he encounter someone as soulless as the white-haired miqo'te slave named Jin'li.  "The Doctor" should have run, but he was too intrigued by his patient to leave.  Besides, Rema had given him a job to do, and "The Doctor intended to carry out, what was in his mind, to be his greatest accomplishment.  Already the Blue Blood Poison was being adapted to be water soluble.  All he needed now was time, and ingredients to prepuce more.

The “Doctor” sat in a small alley, the stink of organic waste and decay festering as the mid-day sun blazed in the sky, the sounds of flies buzzing and bumping into one another mixed in the with sounds of the busy streets nearby.
 
The “Doctor” was alone, his robes showing white and clean inthis realm of squalor.  The “Doctor’s”face was pressed into a concentrated scowl behind his mask as he scribbled with a quill, recording in ink the fates of his five test subjects and the unfortunate developments he had come to discover.
 
“Excuse me?” rasped a voice, causing the “Doctor” to start and leap off the barrel, his journal in his hand.  The “Doctor’s” golden eyes peered out from behind his face mask as the collection of tattered cloth and shaggy hair that had addressed him.  The dilapidated hyur held out a dirt cover hand to the “doctor.”
 
“Spare some change?”
 
The “Doctor” paused and then reached into his pouch and pulled out a small water skin, which he then tossed over to the hyur.
 
“Here, have  drink instead.”  The “Doctor” said flatly.  The hyur stared at the “Doctor” in his whiterobes and face mask, then at the skin in his hand.  The hyur opened the skin, took a drink and then tossed it back to the “Doctor.”  The“Doctor” let the water skin land beside him, before picking it up with two, gloved fingers tentatively, as if the skin was infested with a disease, and the “Doctor” scowled in disgust behind his mask as he watched the hyur.
 
“Thanks for the drink, but can I have some coin?” the hyur asked.  The “Doctor” observed the man and then turned and strode off, the hyur cursing the “Doctor” as the “Docotr’s” brown tail swished eagerly.
 
“Correction, make that six subjects of the “Blue Blood Strand two.”
 
The “Doctor” turned a corner and encountered a massive Roe standing there.  The “Doctor” looked up at the form and nodded, handing the tall, hooded and robed Roe the tiny water skin.  The Roe took it and wrapped a large fist around it.
 
“Done writing records?” the large Roe asked.
 
“I am.  Where you able to reach Jin’li on the linkshell? I need to speak with him about certain developments immediately.”
 
“I did, but he said he was busy.” The Roe replied flatly.
 
Doing what?” the ‘Doctor” inquired.
 
“Talking with his masters.” The Roe said. The “Doctor” raised an eyebrow.  Only he and Jin’li knew that BOTH Rema and Adin were dead. The “Doctor” wondered what Jin’li was really doing, as he allowed himself to appreciate the Twelve for allowing him such a fascinating subject to anylize and work for as Jin’li.
 
---
 
Jin’li walked , his booted feet crunching dirt and rocks under his heels as he slowly strolled through the edges of the refugee camp, his black, emotionless eyes surveying the layout and those who dwelt within the sea of tents and thrown together constructions of wood and stone that dwelt in the shadow of Ul’dah’s walls.  A haggard,barely alive sort of existence, a life in which no one with power cared for you.  How akin to Jin’li’s own origins these people’s homes came.
 
The white-haired miqo’te was dressed in loose robes and a wide-brimmed hat to shield his sensitive skin from the burning rays of the noon sun.  Jin’li should have been recovering, should have been resting.  Yet he was here, watching, and speaking to his masters as he turned down a seemingly empty and narrow row of tents, debris strew about in his path as he slowly walked, his ears twitching.
 
“No, Master Adin,” Jin’li said apologetically to the voicehe heard.  “The assassin sent to kill Askier and Kahn’a has not reported back. I apologize for the inconvenience, however I shall report immediately once I-“
 
Jin’li's left ear twitched.
 
“Lady Rema, your choice in the “Doctor” was well advised and his work on the “Blue Blood” poison has, thus far, been promising.  Once the poison is made water soluble, the next phase in your plan shall begin, Lady Rema. I-“
 
Jin’li stopped abruptly, his boots scuffing up dirt as he came to a standstill while a hyur in a yellow shirt and black trousers darted out in front of him, gold earrings dangling from his ear lobes.
 
“Well hello, there, friend.” The man said, his voice full of sleaze and false promises.  “Couldn’t help but notice you talking to yourself.  Would you like to part with some gil and let yourself talk to one of my girls?”
 
Jin’li fixed his eyes on the hyur as the male smiled and then turned his head up and down the row of tents.  He saw no other living things moving nearby.
 
“Don’t look away.” The hyur cooed, stepping over to a tent and holding a flap back with a gloved hand.  Inside the canvas walls, several burlap sacks had been thrown on the ground as an improvised floor.  Three young women, two hyur and one miqo’te sat, huddled together, each with a chain around their neck; each chain tethered to a large stake in the middle of the tent.  Two hyur males sat in wooden chairs, their bodies clad in leather armor.  Everyone inside the tent stared at Jin’li as his black eyes saw the females.  The white-hire miqo’te asked, without emotion registering on his face:

“Forgive me if this question is rude, but are these three females your slaves?”
 
“Well ain’t  you a cheeky one.”  The hyur in yellow laughed and slapped Jin’li on the shoulder.  “Course they are slaves.”
 
“Were they born as such?’ Jin’li inquired flatly, his eyes never leaving the three females.
 
“Does it matter?”  the hyur in yellow retorted, his smiling faltering as he stared at Jin’li’s pale skin.  “Look, friend, I-“
 
“Pardon the interruption.” Jin’li interrupted apologetically.  “However, I am not your friend.”
 
The hyur in yellow let his smile fall and he scowled.
 
“Look, do you want a round with one of the girls ornot?  I can tell you’re sick but I’m willing to let you have one.  Times aren’t great.”
 
Jin’li took his eyes off the girls and fixed the hyur with a flat expression.  Jin’li then reached into his pocket and pulled out two, small, sowing needles.  He then turned his back to the tent flap and bowed to the empty air.
 
“Apologies, my masters, I must silence you for a moment, as I do not wish you to see or hear what this slave is about to do.”
 
Jin’li took a needle in each hand as a gust of wind blew his hat from his heard.  The miqo’te’s white hair tussled in the breeze as he pierced the needles through the tips of his pointed ears, not making a sound or wincing as drops of blood dripped onto the  dirt.
 
“What the hells?!” the hyur in yellow shouted, causing the two hyurs in leather to stand up and stride forward, placing themselves between Jin’li and the hyur in yellow.  Jin’li saw a thick, wooden stickhalf-covered in the dirt and took a step over towards it, picked it up, dirt and sand showering down as he hefted the length of wood and turned back around to examine the three hyur’s, blood oozing from his ears, his eyes shimmering as the sun glinted off the black hues.
 
“I should  just walkaway.” Jin’li said softly, as if he was confessing a sin.  “I should not be doing this.  My masters wished me to walk away, to obey.  but I’m compelled to stay, compelled to disobey.”  Emotions were flooding against the dams Jin’li had built up years and years ago.  Walls he had used to seal off his rational mind.  Sealed off when he was a child slave, used just as those girls were now.  Walls he had built to block out his memories.  For twenty years the walls had stood strong,only being breached once, once, the time Lady Kanaria had offered him what he thought would be his dying wish.  The walls had broken down and he had wept in joy on that occasion.  Since then, the flood waters of emotion had receded, but the walls were weaker now, the desire to feel emotion growing stronger and now an emotion was seeping through the cracks in the walls.

Anger.
 
“You are masters of slaves, but not like my masters.”  Jin’li explained, unaware that his voice was becoming a feral growl.  So long had he expressed no emotion, he was unable to control it now, unable to realize he was doing it.  “My masters are kind for they gave me purpose; let me feel proud of myself.What you do, what you do is not kind.  Forgive my rudeness, but I find what you do to be despicable.”
 
“Shut this creep up!” the hyur in yellow shrieked in fear, stepping back as the blood soaked into Jin’li’s hair.   One of the hyur’s in leather stepped forward, drawing a short sword from a scabbard, the sun glinting off the tarnished metal.  Jin’li adopted a parrying stance, one Adin had made him practice many, many times, the stick held out before him in one hand, his muscles poised,
 
Jin’li felt his muscles moving and flexing, the wires in his body inserted by the doctor increasing their response time, their strength, their power.  Jin’li felt the sensation of clutching the strick tight enough for his knuckles to shine through his skin and relished it.  It had been so long since he could do this.  So long since he could move without pain.  It was all thanks to the kindness of his masters, especially the Lady Rema.  Jin’li was no faster or stronger than an average miqo’te but compared to what he had been just  short time go, he felt as if he was a titan among mortals.
 
The first hyur in leather closed the gap and then swung the short blade in a wide arc toward Jin’li's side.  The attack was clumsy and as unimpressive as the tarnished steel of the man’s short sword.  Jin’li twitched his stick and thrust the end into the man’s wrist, his left hand rising up, palm open.  The attack caused the hyur to groan and release the sword, the inertia sent the blade forward and into Jin’li’s waiting hand as he caught the blade by the hilt.  Jin’li stepped forward, bringing the point of the stick rushing forward,  pressing it into the hyur’s eyeball with enough force to crush the optic.  The hyur fell, sceraming, blood oozing from the wound as Jin’li stepped forward and planted the short sword down into the man’s lung, turning the hyur's screams into desperate gargles for life.  The other two hyurs stepped back as Jin’li shook violently, his lips pulled back, revealing yellow fangs as he cackled.
 
“Thank you for this gift of movement, Lady Rema!”  Jin’li cried out, a tear rolling down his left eye as he looked at the two hyur’s, the miqo'te mind a flood of confused emotions.

“I know what I must do with this gift!  I must hurt, I I must kill, I must bleed, I must make all equal as you and master Adin are equal.  I must make all realize they are equal in the hands of the Emperor.”
 
Jin’li lept forward, the short sword in his left hand, the stick in his right.  The second hyur in leather parried Jin’li’s attacks well as he slowly retreated into the tent.  Jin’li’s attack were swift but they lacked any real power and the sickly miqo’te was already starting to tire, his muscles already desperate for oxygen as his cardiovascular system struggled to keep up with the demand of fresh red blood cells to his muscles.
 
The hyur in leather sensed the weakening and slowing  assault and smiled as he planted his foot, readying his counter attack.  One he never got as one of the slave girls seized his leg and bit into it.  The hyur screamed and was distracted long enough for Jin’li’s sword to parry the hyur's sword aside and then Jin'li smashed the stick into the hyur’s temple.  The hyur collapsed.

Jin’li was panting as he dropped the wooden stik and gazed over at the hyur in yellow.  The hyur suddenly turned, and started lifting up the side of the tent to run.  Jin lunged forward and slammed the point of the blade through the man’s ankle, pinning him to the ground.  The hyur screamed in agony as Jin twistedthe hilt in his hand, his normally expressionless black eyes glinting in delight as he realized the power he had in his hands.
 
“I make all equal.”  Jin’li stammered, starring at his free hand.  “I killed Rema and made my master’s equal, I kill you now and make you equal to your slave girls.  I have done all this.  With my hands.  I have the power now.  I serve my masters now because I choose to, not because I must.  I am master now.”  Jin’li pulled out the blade and then drove it into the squirming hyur’s chest.

“We are all equal in death.”  Jin’li cried out, as if he had discovered the true meaning of life, as if that revelation was the greastest thing Jin’li had ever heard.
 
“I my masters because I choose to and I make all equal in death.  I make all equal to me.”  Jin’li pulled the sword from the dead body and stared at the three slave girls, his as they stared at him.  The white haired miqo’te tightened the grip on his blood-soaked sword as he stepped towards the girls.  “You are not equal, but I shall make you equal.  Rejoice, for I give you equality in death.”
 
A few moments later, Jin’li emerged from the tent, blood splatters coating his body and his face.  The miqo’te pulled the pins from his ears and placed them in his pocket.  His face was calm and composed again as he bowed to the open air, the sword in his right hand still. 
 
“I fear I must apologize for my absence and my rathershocking appearance at this moment."  Jin’li said aloud as the desert wind moaned.  “I was over come momentarily with what could only be described at irrational emotion and I offer my sincerest and deepest apologies for my coth actions.”
 
Jin’li’s ears flicked wildly before he rose to his full height. 

 
“Masters, you are kind to understand so readily.  I promise I shall conduct myself in a more restrained manner in the future.”
 
The white haired miqo’te then looked around.  No one seemed to be nearby, to have heard the screams.

"Soon our plans shall being masters.  Soon those whom will bow to the Emperor will see the purpose the Empire can give them, just as it gave me purpose.  And those that resist, shall be made equal in death.”
 
The miqo’te flicked his hears and began walking away from the city and the sea of tents, back towards the shelter of shadows and plots.

“Doctor, will you pardon my intrusion?”  Jin’li said politely as he entered a large room, full of dripping beakers, barrels, and boxes.  The “Doctor” turned and fixed the small figure with his golden eyes, noting that the muscles in Jin’li’s neck were thicker.
 
“Jin’li, it is never an intrusion.”  The “Doctor” bowed.  “How may help you?”
 
“Master Adin wishes to know how much Blue Blood Strand One you have and how quickly your could make some more needle explosives.”  Jin’li said flatly, his eyes emotionless as they looked around the room.’
 
The “Doctor” grunted in surprise at the request. 
 
“Well, we have plenty and could have more than forty such devices ready in a few days,”  the “Doctor”answered honestly.  “But I thought the explosives were meant for later in the operation.”
 
“The masters have made a change of plans, my good Doctor.They apologize if this inconveniences you.”   Jin’li replied, fixing his soulless, black eyes on the “Doctor” and his golden eyes.  Eyes that belonged to Askier.  “Askier is currently missing and the city is full with rumors as to where he has gone.  My masters deem this to be the perfect time for you to shed that mask you wear, reveal your fantasied face, and set off a few explosives to sow panic and confusion.”
 
The “Doctor” was silent for a long time, his lips pressed firmly into a thin line behind his mask. 
This was an unpleasant update, and would impact his research.
 
“How many explosives?” the “Doctor” chimed back at last. 
 
“Just one or two.”  Jin’li answered and the “Doctor” relaxed.  “The main point is that someone sees the face you honored my masters by volunteering to wear instead of your own.   We will let the rumor mongers do the rest.”
 
“Shall I set this off as soon as it is ready?” the “Doctor” inquired.
 
“My masters would be most pleased if you did.”  Jin’li bowed, his face a blank mask.

***

Askier awoke in pain as his eyes jerked open, their golden hues glinting in the dim light that filtered through the small gap around the door to the room he found himself in. 

Askier gasped as the ribs in his left side popped as he tried to move, at least a few badly bruised.  Askier started to panic.  He went to heft himself up with his left arm... and then feel back, screaming as his bruised ribs struck the wooded floor.  He had no left arm!  Askier's right hand frantically clutched for his left arm, his mind not realizing why he could not feel anything till his hand seized his shoulder and the stump there.  Askier's golden eyes went wide as everything came back to him in a rush of memory.

The kidnapping.  Meeting Natalie Mcbeef, agreeing to help her to earn Roen a pardon for her being Garlean just like him.  Hiring Saravena, then hiring Crim, the mistake, Roen running into Askier and Crim, their improvised kidnapping, Askier hitting Roen over the head with a shovel, Crim tying her up.  Things seemed okay.  Their flight to Coerthas, the hut.  Askier getting books and food and whiskey to make it easy on Roen. Crim snapping, torturing the poor woman, Askier uncomfortable, looking away but not stopping Crim.  Askier heading to Ul'dah via the crystal in Dragonhead to try to find Nat, failing,  using the crystal to teleport back before dawn.  The time Askier had tried to make peace with Roen, set things right, help her brother, Crim snapping, hurting Roen, Askier snapping, throwing the bottle at Crim's face.  The Roe and miqo'te snarling, former friends now enemies.  Askier leaping out the window, Crim stepping out front door, holding Roen with a sword to her throat swearing to kill her if Askier didn't surrender.  Askier throwing one linkpearl from his one ear, sending Drumstick as a message south.  Askier pulling the pin on his grenade, blowing off his arm, a distraction to keep Crim having to hurry, from thinking properly, from noticing Askier's deception.

"Linkpearl..." Askier moaned, his voice pained as he slid slightly, the smell of salt filling his nostrils as the room listed with the sounds of the waves.  "A boat."  Askier grunted, recognizing the sensation, the smell.

"A boat just like Crim wanted.  Burn in the hells, Crim."  Askier cursed as he tried to move his one good arm, but a wave of exhaustion rolled over him and he slipped back into sleep.

((Based on an rp with Kraz'a and Bartolomeo (the Sultansworn in this post)


Jin’li watched from the shadows, the shaded alley allowing him a clear line of sight to the “Doctor” as the “Doctor” carried a barrel towards a merchant’s stand, the Ul'dah street sparsley populated in the late night hours.  Jin’li’s face was blank and expressionless as his dark tongue ran over his dry lips.
 
The onyx black eyes analyzed the street, trying to see if there was anyone whom would recognize the face the “Doctor” wore.  There was. 

Kraz’a Axrial.  Jin’li had only seen the red-haired miqo’te without his helmet once, but that was enough.
 
Kraz’a was seated on a bench, idly watching. 
 
This was perfect.
 
Jin’li watched as the “Doctor” placed the barrel down, spun on his heel and made a quick, Imperial salute, shouting in  voice that was almost Askier’s, his fantasied face identical to Askier’s:
 
“For the Empire.” 
 
The “Doctor” pulled a metal wire and turn and ran as fast as he could.  Jin’li’s soulless eyes swivled to Kraz’a, noting the fact that the miqo’te had recognized the face the “Doctor” wore and was throwing himself behind the bench.  Jin’li also noted a taller hyur, clad in the armor of a Sultansworn, watching the “Doctor”, starting to follow.  Jin’li did not know whom the man was but intended to find out. 
 
The explosion was loud and threw smoke and shrapnel into the air, the sounds of agonized and terrified screams following in the blast's wake.  Jin’li watched at Kraz’a rose and fled from the scene, the red-haired miqo’te’s eyes wide in furry and shock.  The Sultansworn hyur tried to chase after the“Doctor” but the crowd of panicked civilians impeded the hyur’s progress.
 
Jin’li turned, his face still blank as he walked down the alley, his body wrapped in a black coat.

The miqo’te had not gotten far before his left ear flicked, the linkpearl that rested within transmitting a voice into his head.
 
“Jin’li, I have news to report.”
 
Jin’li strolled casually past a fountain, his eyes surveying the faces he passed.  Few people in this city knew he existed, let alone what we might look like, but those who did know where worth being wary of.
 
“I would be honored to hear your report so that I might pass it along to my masters.”  The white-haired miqo’te replied flatly.
 
“We have some interesting news on what has happened to the real Askier.”
 
Jin’li continued to walk, unfazed as the voice in his ear informed Jin’li of what had been learned.  Once Jin’li’s informant had finished, the white-haired slave replied:
 
“I shall inform my masters.  You have done well.”
 
Jin’li removed the linkpearl and suddenly his right ear began to twitch wildly.
 
“Master Adin, I shall handle it.”  Jin’li said.
 
You shall do so now, Jin’li.” The voice was Adin’s, angry and full of emotion, it’s tone causing Jin’li’s ear to spasm with each syllable, even though there was no linkpearl in Jin’li’s ear, and no voice had spoken around him.
 
“This city shall suffer soon enough.”  Jin’li replied, speaking to the voice in his head.
 
See that it is done Jin’li quickly, Jin’li.  Everyday this city continues to stand is an affront to me.


“This humble slave shall accomplish it when and how this slave sees fit.”  Jin’li replied, a hint of defiance slipping into his tone.  “I shall not be rushed in exacting our revenge.  You had your chance and failed, Master Adin.  This time, things shall be done according to what is best for this, humble slave.”
 
You use that tone against me, Jin’li?  I, who made you, I who-
 
“You gave me new life, it was master Rema who made me as whole as I could be.  I serve you botha nd she wishes conquest, not destruction, so I shall obey you both.  Destroy those who defied you, conquer the city for Lady Rema.  Both shall be done as I see fit, for I am the hands now.  Should the words of this humble slave displease you, you may punish me when I come to serve you in the beyond.”
 
Jin’li, your defiance-
 
Jin’li pulled out a needle and pierced his right ear with it, letting the metal glint in the sun. 
The voice of his dead master died as the pointed needle skewered the tender flesh.
 
Jin’li gave a small sigh and permitted himself a smile for the briefest of moments.  He had silenced his master, spoken out against him, defied him, shown that he was his master’s equal again.  Jin’li was pleased by this,and, although he was not entirely aware of the truth, was beginning to develop, for the first time in his life, an ego and a sense of self awareness that went beyond simple servitude.  The power Jin’li had, over the spies, over his masters, even over the Empire with his lies of Lady Rema’s continued existence in the world of the living was changing him and, although Jin’li’s conscious mind still had yet to grasp it, he was enjoying it immensely.
 
“Now then,”  Jin’li said, his face a blank mask once more, his voice monotone as he stepped out into the Ruby Exchange.  “To whom shall I be rude and surprise with a visit?”