The alley was congested and small, nothing more than a sliver of space wedged between three buildings. The overcast night sky hung close to the tops of Ul'dah's tallest buildings.
A small form slipped into the alley, a lone candle held in his hand. The lalafell's eyes darted around nervously as he made his way to the end of the alley and came to what appeared to be a small bundle of trash and sacks. The lalafell pulled the sacks aside and there is was, just as his friend had told him would be. A small altar to Nald'thal. The symbol of the deity was carved into a rectangular stone block planted into a wooden base. Written in black ink upon the base in free hand was a number:Â
50,000.
"The price of a life." the lalafell whispered as the candle in his hand shook slightly. He had never done anything like this. He had tried to live an upright life. But he was desperate now. A Brass Blade had been bleeding his small business dry with extortion fees and was growing more and more bold. The lalafell was afraid to turn to the other branches of Ul'dah law. His friend had told him of this option. Assassination.
The lalafell's friend said it had worked for him three times now.
"Pay the offering, reap the reward." the lalafell repeated what his friend had said and then pulled out a bag of gil from his pocket and placed it on the altar. The lalafell was not a religious man by any means but he knelt and bowed his head.
"A fee for a soul, to make Nald'thal richer." the lalafell said quietly. "50,000 gil for the life of Trener Belin."
The lalafell looked up. Nothing happened. The lalafell waited for a few minutes. Still nothing happened. Worried he had done something wrong, he repeated the words. Still nothing happened.
After a few moments, the lalafell turned around and walked to the end of the alley. His stomach knotted as he realized just how much money he had left. He turned and blinked.
The bags once again covered the altar. The lalafell rushed over to the bags and pulled them off. The pouch of gil was gone.
The lalafell felt a chill run down his spine as he turned and fled.
***
Three Days Later
Trener Belin threw open the door and slammed it shut behind him. The man's eyes were wide and he ran to the edge of the roof and stopped. He gazed down at the street five stories below. The hour was early and no one was walking the streets at this time. No one savory anyhow. The door to the roof creaked open slowly and the hyur called Trener Belin spun around, gazing at the opening door and the figure that stood in the doorway, blocking the stairs to the rest of the brothel blocked.Â
Trener shivered as he saw that his knife was still transfixed in the tall miqo'te's chest.
"What are you!"Â Trener screamed, his face full of fear as his armor jingled in the night breeze.
The miqo'te took a step forward, his one blue and one black eyes gazing upon Trener intently. The left half of the miqo'te's face was tattooed and the skin was a pallid grey.
The miqo'te slowly pulled the knife from it's chest, a black, jelly like substance dribbling out of the wound. The air was growing colder as the miqo'te grew closer.
"Who sent you? I have coin! I'll pay you more." Trener babbled frantically as the figure advanced. Trener suddenly aimed a punched at the male. The blow struck true and the miqo'te fell back. Trener snarled and tried to bolt for the door but a hand seized his foot and he tripped. The hyur slammed onto the ground and rolled over onto his back. The hyur tried to kicked free, but suddenly the miqo'te was on top of his chest.
Trener struggled as the stranger lifted the knife to Trener's chest and then slowly, almost tenderly, slipped the blade between Trener's ribs into his heart. Trener started to shake as he felt his blood leaving his body. Cold tingled on the back of his neck as the miqo'te rose and bowed to the dying man.
"Nald'thal welcomes you to his realm. Rejoice for the true god shall embrace you as his own. For he is kind."
The tall miqo'te with the mismatched eyes then turned and walked to the edge of the roof. The wind moaned softly as the miqo'te felt Tener's soul depart his body. Below the miqo'te could see several Brass Blades rushing down the street towards the brothel.
The miqo'te looked up at the night sky as a grin parted his tattooed face, his teeth flashing white as his body turned to smoke and blew away on the wind.
A small form slipped into the alley, a lone candle held in his hand. The lalafell's eyes darted around nervously as he made his way to the end of the alley and came to what appeared to be a small bundle of trash and sacks. The lalafell pulled the sacks aside and there is was, just as his friend had told him would be. A small altar to Nald'thal. The symbol of the deity was carved into a rectangular stone block planted into a wooden base. Written in black ink upon the base in free hand was a number:Â
50,000.
"The price of a life." the lalafell whispered as the candle in his hand shook slightly. He had never done anything like this. He had tried to live an upright life. But he was desperate now. A Brass Blade had been bleeding his small business dry with extortion fees and was growing more and more bold. The lalafell was afraid to turn to the other branches of Ul'dah law. His friend had told him of this option. Assassination.
The lalafell's friend said it had worked for him three times now.
"Pay the offering, reap the reward." the lalafell repeated what his friend had said and then pulled out a bag of gil from his pocket and placed it on the altar. The lalafell was not a religious man by any means but he knelt and bowed his head.
"A fee for a soul, to make Nald'thal richer." the lalafell said quietly. "50,000 gil for the life of Trener Belin."
The lalafell looked up. Nothing happened. The lalafell waited for a few minutes. Still nothing happened. Worried he had done something wrong, he repeated the words. Still nothing happened.
After a few moments, the lalafell turned around and walked to the end of the alley. His stomach knotted as he realized just how much money he had left. He turned and blinked.
The bags once again covered the altar. The lalafell rushed over to the bags and pulled them off. The pouch of gil was gone.
The lalafell felt a chill run down his spine as he turned and fled.
***
Three Days Later
Trener Belin threw open the door and slammed it shut behind him. The man's eyes were wide and he ran to the edge of the roof and stopped. He gazed down at the street five stories below. The hour was early and no one was walking the streets at this time. No one savory anyhow. The door to the roof creaked open slowly and the hyur called Trener Belin spun around, gazing at the opening door and the figure that stood in the doorway, blocking the stairs to the rest of the brothel blocked.Â
Trener shivered as he saw that his knife was still transfixed in the tall miqo'te's chest.
"What are you!"Â Trener screamed, his face full of fear as his armor jingled in the night breeze.
The miqo'te took a step forward, his one blue and one black eyes gazing upon Trener intently. The left half of the miqo'te's face was tattooed and the skin was a pallid grey.
The miqo'te slowly pulled the knife from it's chest, a black, jelly like substance dribbling out of the wound. The air was growing colder as the miqo'te grew closer.
"Who sent you? I have coin! I'll pay you more." Trener babbled frantically as the figure advanced. Trener suddenly aimed a punched at the male. The blow struck true and the miqo'te fell back. Trener snarled and tried to bolt for the door but a hand seized his foot and he tripped. The hyur slammed onto the ground and rolled over onto his back. The hyur tried to kicked free, but suddenly the miqo'te was on top of his chest.
Trener struggled as the stranger lifted the knife to Trener's chest and then slowly, almost tenderly, slipped the blade between Trener's ribs into his heart. Trener started to shake as he felt his blood leaving his body. Cold tingled on the back of his neck as the miqo'te rose and bowed to the dying man.
"Nald'thal welcomes you to his realm. Rejoice for the true god shall embrace you as his own. For he is kind."
The tall miqo'te with the mismatched eyes then turned and walked to the edge of the roof. The wind moaned softly as the miqo'te felt Tener's soul depart his body. Below the miqo'te could see several Brass Blades rushing down the street towards the brothel.
The miqo'te looked up at the night sky as a grin parted his tattooed face, his teeth flashing white as his body turned to smoke and blew away on the wind.
