Soft boot-falls sounded over the steps as an Elezen ascended to the Quicksand. It had been a year since he had last opened these doors, but he seemed unchanged. Silver hair, dark skin, and a mix of leather and chain that looked exactly as it did the day he left. He carried his harp strapped to his back, his lute held in his hands, and paused for more then a moment at the entrance to let his eyes sweep over the crowd.
A sigh of relief, and disappointment, left him. He didn't recognize anyone in the room. A Blessing, and a curse. He had wanted her to be here, and yet, feared that she might be. The bard steps into the room and works his way to his normal table, listening to the sounds of the room.
Adventurers sat at their tables, talking, yelling, sometimes even bellowing at each other over their cups of ale. It set his teeth on edge. Sellswords. Self important so called 'Heroes.' Sure, he was secretly an assassin, a killer for hire, but there wasn't a man in this room who didn't spill blood, and every one of them demanded coin for it. What made them so different? What gave them the right to call him 'evil?'
His annoyance and boredom began to get to him, and in order to kill said boredom... without killing anything else... he picked up the lute and began to strum at it. Soon a grin crossed his lips as the perfect song came to mind. A playful little ditty, made even more humorus by his little secret.
His playing changed slightly, the music becoming crisp, playful and even a little taunting as his voice started up in a serious tone,
"Well a Bard is well-rounded, I've known all along
That there's more to my calling than one or two songs
And I'm hardly a fighter, in case you don't know
So I thought I would learn me the art of the bow."
Most of the tavern continued their conversations, oblivious to the singer, but a few tables around him had quieted down, listening to him play.
"It was early one Sunday, the archers were there
And their arrows shot gracefully into the air
"oh how hard can that be?" In my mind I did mull--
Till I picked up that bow and I gave 'er a pull!"
He gave a long pause, watching the room as several more tables quieted down. Soon enough everyone seemed to be waiting on him to continue, and he gave a smirk, both because he loved and craved that attention.. and because he already knew the next verse.
"For an Archer I'd say I'm a helluva Bard
Though my songs and my stories might win an award
If you give me a target I'll miss by a yard
For an Archer I'd say I'm a helluva Bard!"
Tables erupted in laughter as the jist.. and the joke.. of the song reached them.
"From the placement of feet to the placement of quiver
Hold arrows just so, don't let that elbow shiver
And tie your hair back and line up with one eye
I was finally ready to give it a try."
A bardess enjoying her nightly meal gave a chuckle and picked up her lute, playing the accompaniment as Taedrinnar continued to sing.
"Clear down range!" said the Marshall, "Six arrows at thirty!"
I lined up that fletch, I stood ever so sturdy
I pulled and I shot with a "twang" of the string...
And my tip hit the tripod-leg with a loud "Ting!"
"For an Archer I'd say I'm a helluva Bard
Though my songs and my stories might win an award
If you give me a target I'll miss by a yard
For an Archer I'd say I'm a helluva Bard!"
 Now a year has gone past and I'm not quite as poor
Though I still get an eight as an average score
I've been shooting them straighter, more consistently--
And no one shoots tripod-legs better than me!
But the premise upon which this whole song is founded
Is try something new and you might be astounded
I'm far from a marksman, but still no less proud...
Let's see all you archers come sing to this crowd!"
Patrons stood up, bellowing out the final chorus with him, and though they were deep in their cups, though most were horribly off key and several even had the wrong lyrics, he fed off it. Murder may be his calling, but he couldn't deny the passion, the fire, that burned through him every time the crowd got into his performances.
"For an Archer I'd say I'm a helluva Bard
Though my songs and my stories might win an award
If you give me a target I'll miss by a yard
For an Archer I'd say I'm a helluva Bard!"
Applause, coin and more then a few drinks awaited him as the song came to an end and he took his bow. Taedrinnar took to his seat as the other bard began to play another song. So far his homecoming had been a success in most ways. Still, one thing bothered him and he worked on the problem as he nursed one of the many cups in front of him...
Everyone thought the assassin dead.. or jailed. No one leaves contracts for a dead assassin, and so his entire plan of coming back to Ul'dah and getting to work seemed to be stalled in place. There was no helping it, he would simply have to let them know he was back, and deal with any backlash from the Syndicate, or the Sworn, that may come. He'd have to take out an advertisement.
That got a chuckle from him, and an hour later, the bard staggered out of the Sands and down the alleyways. The farther he got from the tavern, the more sober he seemed to become, giving truth to the lie of being drunk. Taedrinnar was not one to drink to excess, he preferred to have his wit intact. A drunken bard staggering home, however, was a great disguise, one that rarely turned a head.
He would make his way down the alley to one of several brokerage spots for the Underground. He needed a bounty. Generally assassins didn't bother with bounties. They paid to little and were more suited to mercenaries and cutthroats. Professionals prefered exclusive contracts with as few people knowing the details as possible. Still, his sources were all dried up.
The rules for choosing a target were easy. One: Never kill for free. Two: No one you know. and Three: Don't take a job you can't finish. He needed someone who would pay enough that it wouldn't be a complete waste of time. High ranking enough to get some attention, yet not so high as to start a manhunt, and someone he could reach easily.
Taedrinnar considered several of the open hits the broker had before selecting one in particular...
A minor nobleman, just high enough to raise some eyebrows. The pay was horrid of course, but it was better then free, it was advertisement that paid him. No special requirements, no special risks.
He runs over a few things in his mind, asking the broker a few questions before nodding and starting off down the street, humming to himself...
"For an Archer I'd say I'm a helluva bard..."
****
                              Ul'dah Star
                                                Sub-Counselor Murdered!
                                                    By N'Zhumii Rahz
         Sub-Counselor Kognsa Lonsa on the Import/Export Subcommittee was found murdered in his home this morning. Apparently, last night, the Lallafel had opened his safe to deposit his jewelry for the night when a trap planted earlier went off. Inside the safe, investigators found a thin metal pipe packed with spent gunpowder, a short burnt fuse and a lighting mechanism. The Sub-Counselor himself appears to have taken a broken arrow shaft through his left eye and into his brain. The most shocking part of this horrific crime is the arrow itself.. a broken off shaft made of Ashwood. Could it be him? Has the Ashen Assassin returned? Both the Sultansworn and the Brass Blades refused to comment on this story, but for now, evidence seems to point to the return of one of our cities long missing murderers.
Taedrinnar Ashmorrow,
The Ashen Assassin.
https://wiki.ffxiv-roleplayers.com/pages..._Ashmorrow
A sigh of relief, and disappointment, left him. He didn't recognize anyone in the room. A Blessing, and a curse. He had wanted her to be here, and yet, feared that she might be. The bard steps into the room and works his way to his normal table, listening to the sounds of the room.
Adventurers sat at their tables, talking, yelling, sometimes even bellowing at each other over their cups of ale. It set his teeth on edge. Sellswords. Self important so called 'Heroes.' Sure, he was secretly an assassin, a killer for hire, but there wasn't a man in this room who didn't spill blood, and every one of them demanded coin for it. What made them so different? What gave them the right to call him 'evil?'
His annoyance and boredom began to get to him, and in order to kill said boredom... without killing anything else... he picked up the lute and began to strum at it. Soon a grin crossed his lips as the perfect song came to mind. A playful little ditty, made even more humorus by his little secret.
His playing changed slightly, the music becoming crisp, playful and even a little taunting as his voice started up in a serious tone,
"Well a Bard is well-rounded, I've known all along
That there's more to my calling than one or two songs
And I'm hardly a fighter, in case you don't know
So I thought I would learn me the art of the bow."
Most of the tavern continued their conversations, oblivious to the singer, but a few tables around him had quieted down, listening to him play.
"It was early one Sunday, the archers were there
And their arrows shot gracefully into the air
"oh how hard can that be?" In my mind I did mull--
Till I picked up that bow and I gave 'er a pull!"
He gave a long pause, watching the room as several more tables quieted down. Soon enough everyone seemed to be waiting on him to continue, and he gave a smirk, both because he loved and craved that attention.. and because he already knew the next verse.
"For an Archer I'd say I'm a helluva Bard
Though my songs and my stories might win an award
If you give me a target I'll miss by a yard
For an Archer I'd say I'm a helluva Bard!"
Tables erupted in laughter as the jist.. and the joke.. of the song reached them.
"From the placement of feet to the placement of quiver
Hold arrows just so, don't let that elbow shiver
And tie your hair back and line up with one eye
I was finally ready to give it a try."
A bardess enjoying her nightly meal gave a chuckle and picked up her lute, playing the accompaniment as Taedrinnar continued to sing.
"Clear down range!" said the Marshall, "Six arrows at thirty!"
I lined up that fletch, I stood ever so sturdy
I pulled and I shot with a "twang" of the string...
And my tip hit the tripod-leg with a loud "Ting!"
"For an Archer I'd say I'm a helluva Bard
Though my songs and my stories might win an award
If you give me a target I'll miss by a yard
For an Archer I'd say I'm a helluva Bard!"
 Now a year has gone past and I'm not quite as poor
Though I still get an eight as an average score
I've been shooting them straighter, more consistently--
And no one shoots tripod-legs better than me!
But the premise upon which this whole song is founded
Is try something new and you might be astounded
I'm far from a marksman, but still no less proud...
Let's see all you archers come sing to this crowd!"
Patrons stood up, bellowing out the final chorus with him, and though they were deep in their cups, though most were horribly off key and several even had the wrong lyrics, he fed off it. Murder may be his calling, but he couldn't deny the passion, the fire, that burned through him every time the crowd got into his performances.
"For an Archer I'd say I'm a helluva Bard
Though my songs and my stories might win an award
If you give me a target I'll miss by a yard
For an Archer I'd say I'm a helluva Bard!"
Applause, coin and more then a few drinks awaited him as the song came to an end and he took his bow. Taedrinnar took to his seat as the other bard began to play another song. So far his homecoming had been a success in most ways. Still, one thing bothered him and he worked on the problem as he nursed one of the many cups in front of him...
Everyone thought the assassin dead.. or jailed. No one leaves contracts for a dead assassin, and so his entire plan of coming back to Ul'dah and getting to work seemed to be stalled in place. There was no helping it, he would simply have to let them know he was back, and deal with any backlash from the Syndicate, or the Sworn, that may come. He'd have to take out an advertisement.
That got a chuckle from him, and an hour later, the bard staggered out of the Sands and down the alleyways. The farther he got from the tavern, the more sober he seemed to become, giving truth to the lie of being drunk. Taedrinnar was not one to drink to excess, he preferred to have his wit intact. A drunken bard staggering home, however, was a great disguise, one that rarely turned a head.
He would make his way down the alley to one of several brokerage spots for the Underground. He needed a bounty. Generally assassins didn't bother with bounties. They paid to little and were more suited to mercenaries and cutthroats. Professionals prefered exclusive contracts with as few people knowing the details as possible. Still, his sources were all dried up.
The rules for choosing a target were easy. One: Never kill for free. Two: No one you know. and Three: Don't take a job you can't finish. He needed someone who would pay enough that it wouldn't be a complete waste of time. High ranking enough to get some attention, yet not so high as to start a manhunt, and someone he could reach easily.
Taedrinnar considered several of the open hits the broker had before selecting one in particular...
A minor nobleman, just high enough to raise some eyebrows. The pay was horrid of course, but it was better then free, it was advertisement that paid him. No special requirements, no special risks.
He runs over a few things in his mind, asking the broker a few questions before nodding and starting off down the street, humming to himself...
"For an Archer I'd say I'm a helluva bard..."
****
                              Ul'dah Star
                                                Sub-Counselor Murdered!
                                                    By N'Zhumii Rahz
         Sub-Counselor Kognsa Lonsa on the Import/Export Subcommittee was found murdered in his home this morning. Apparently, last night, the Lallafel had opened his safe to deposit his jewelry for the night when a trap planted earlier went off. Inside the safe, investigators found a thin metal pipe packed with spent gunpowder, a short burnt fuse and a lighting mechanism. The Sub-Counselor himself appears to have taken a broken arrow shaft through his left eye and into his brain. The most shocking part of this horrific crime is the arrow itself.. a broken off shaft made of Ashwood. Could it be him? Has the Ashen Assassin returned? Both the Sultansworn and the Brass Blades refused to comment on this story, but for now, evidence seems to point to the return of one of our cities long missing murderers.
Taedrinnar Ashmorrow,
The Ashen Assassin.
https://wiki.ffxiv-roleplayers.com/pages..._Ashmorrow
