Private Tales Don't get comfortable

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
The sky turned from a bright hue to a darker twilight. Bright pinks and red filled the sky, gradients drifting toward a deeper blue with a black just beyond. This was Artemis' favorite time of day. The golden hour. She remembered taking a moment on the beach in the Isle of Sorcha and looking out at the waves. Just a stolen moment to herself.

Away from the vigorous training.

Away from the killing.

A time to momentarily suspend reality.

But tonight, her eyes weren't on the horizon. Her eyes remained on her target, Uvogin. His mask was off as he ate. She could see the chisel of his jawline in the waning fireball as it dipped well below the desert dunes. She used the growing darkness to her advantage as she crept up toward him, soft-padded boots picking the spots that didn't make sound.

They'd trained several times how to walk silently in the woods. Step on moss or soft grass - avoid the twigs, dead leaves, and shifting rocks. Make a mistake and you'd have to run through the gauntlet.

This was so similar to their first run-in. The only light from the moon and stars from above. Daggers in her hands. Although, he was clothed this time. Crouching low, she suddenly sprang forward, like a shadow melting from a shadow, dagger aimed for his right kidney.
 
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In a rare moment of idleness, Uvogin thoughtlessly stared over the dark wasteland. The slight breeze was refreshing as it passed over his skin and created a semblance of a peaceful moment for the man. Artemis, like the predator she was, snuck up to him without raising any alarm. Only when she lunged was Uvogin made aware of her position. He turned, quick as ever to react, but not quick enough. Food flew off the metal bowl as he swung it to parry the glint of metal aiming to pierce his side.

Metal clashed against metal, and while he avoided a fatal blow, the dagger dug into his side, well below where his kidney was.

Uvogin groaned with pain and immediately answered with a balled fist aimed at the woman's chin.
 
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The punch was sloppy. Hand came up to block, his fist knocking the other dagger out of her hand. She left the one she'd just stabbed him with in his side. Weight shifted forward and she went to tackle and wrestle the man to the ground, behind that rock.

She'd take him into the shadows with her if he allowed.

That clatter of his food tray might've already alerted someone in camp nearby. Hand scrambled on the ground for the knife she dropped as one of her fingers attempted to enclose around one of his wrists.

"Miss me?" Eyes glinted like that dagger.
 
He held her hand in place, preventing her from moving the knife around too much. When he'd fallen back, he made sure to land against the rock. As she reached for the dagger that fell to the dirt, he raised a knee to knock her arm up and kicked the dagger away.

"Every day," he growled through clenched teeth. He bucked his hips up against her and deftly reached behind his back, drawing a skinny dagger and thrusting it up towards her stomach.
 
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She grunted as the other dagger was kicked away. Her own knee came inward as she used the leverage of not being pinned to the ground to her advantage. Her own hips twisted, his dagger slicing into the armor at her side, its sharp point pricking a long slash to the skin beneath. If she hadn't been wearing light armor, she would've been dead.

Free hand went to try and enclose around the wrist, her other hand going for his hair, fingers curling around dark locks in order to try and slam his head back against that rock.

As she went to do this, there was a scream over her shoulder toward camp. It made her movement not as harsh as it would've been.

Something tickled a warning at the back of her senses.
 
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"Ow!" Uvogin hissed as his head clattered against the rock. It stung. It fucking hurt. He also heard the scream but didn't let it distract him. Distraction meant death. Death meant he couldn't do anything about the camp, even if he wanted to.

"Brought friends?" He taunted, no small amount of annoyance in his tone. Their free hands wrestled for control, neither quite able to securely grab either wrist. Uvogin seized her other arm and tried to pull her hand from his thick hair.

Taking advantage of their closeness, the captain attempted to headbutt Artemis' chin.
 
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Troubled eyes locked onto his own in the moonlight. A moment of consideration. Her fingers thoroughly tangled in that thick hair of his. Legs split as her knees tried to squeeze into his sides as she crouched over him. He got his hand around her arm.

Back arched slightly as his head suddenly came forward. Their faces smashed together for a moment and she felt his lips on her own in a bruising embrace. Noses cracked together.

"No," she growled, still trying to pin him with her body weight and legs split and straddled over his sides. Fingers released his hair when he went to head butt her. There was a whistle in the night and she suddenly released her grip on him entirely, rolling to the ground.

A familiar throwing knife suddenly embedded into the back of her shoulder. Thrown right between the threads of armor.

No one else would know to make that shot. Could make that shot. Unless...

"Impossible," Artemis grunted then released a mouthful of curses.
 
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Uvogin caught the glimpse of a second knife and raised his arms, now free from having to fight Artemis, to his face. The blade stuck into his left arm, but he quickly pulled it free and rose to his feet, tossing the dagger aside. In a deft, trained motion, his sword was drawn and his head whipped around, scanning the darkness for the attackers.

Behind him, the sounds of battle grew.

They were in the open and separated from the camp. It wasn't a good spot. Not good at all. Uvogin grabbed Artemis under her arm and yanked her around and behind the boulder. Without a word of warning, he yanked the knife out of her back. He hadn't thought of helping her; his body moved on its own. Whether he would regret that later, well, he didn't know.

"You're not too good at killing me," he bluntly stated.
 
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Her mind reeled, though her face didn't show it. Calm-calculating gaze looked at the Captain closely. But there was a storm just beneath the surface of calm. An awaiting tempest.

She hissed as he yanked that knife out.

"You have proven to be a formidable target," a heaved breath let the words fly. "One I have not faced in a long time," finished with a hushed whisper. Eyes tore away from his face - one she'd gotten to know so well, though, not quite in the way she looked at him now.

Perhaps an ally? A truce?

She'd need it; they both did. For what was to come. Finger came to tap his wrist - the one that held the knife he'd yanked from her back.

"That symbol there. That's my order." Lips thinned then parted. "Someone has betrayed me. They should not have come at this point." She peeked around the rock, canting her head to the side to listen. "Even fighting against two we might not survive the night. I fear there are more."

Head snapped back to the Captain.

"Your men in camp are dead. If we are to survive we need to get to the mountains and keep the rocks at our backs." They needed the higher ground. But would they get that far?
 
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As they crouched there behind the rock and Artemis spoke, Uvogin’s hand tightly clutched his side. In time, his breathing would become labored. He would slow down. He would fall behind and those of the order of assassins would kill him.

Uvogin grumbled and lowered his face to the dirt. His hand, slick from blood, traced a red circle in the dirt.

“Mountains to the east...” he glanced up for a moment and went back to working at the rune. “This rune will make smoke.”

After only a few seconds, Uvogin nodded to himself. “Done. Now we-” The shuffling of feet above startled him. Two glints of steel flashed in the darkness and clashed against each other.

An assassin had climbed the boulder and lunged at Artemis to kill her. After he defended against the one assassin, he could see four others around them. Uvogin had just barely reacted in time, but it seems they were already caught. Grimacing, Uvogin suddenly bent down and placed his palm flat on the rune.

There was a flash of light, illuminating everything around them with a brilliant blue hue, and then an explosion of smoke that extended about twenty feet in all directions. A hand seized Artemis in the smoke. Uvogin pushed her towards the mountains.

“Run!” He hissed.
 
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Ashen hair whipped wildly behind her as she ran. Long-legs taking smooth, sure, and light strides. Even with her eyes watering and blinded. Even as she had to rely on her other senses. She could feel blood soaking into her armor and clothes at the back of her shoulder where Uvogin had taken out the knife.

She knew he wouldn't be able to last much longer either.

Blue-grey eyes blinked and squinted as they cleared the smoke. A glance behind told her the captain was still with her. She blinked rapidly, seeing the rocks of the mountain just ahead. It's a good thing neither of their legs were injured or else they could've kissed their lives goodbye. They'd be able to make the ascent fairly well.

But five assassins?

Her mind still reeled.

She spun suddenly, throwing knives dropping from the leather bracers around her body and into her hands. For once, she wasn't aiming at the Captain but behind him. Back into the edges of the smoke. Arms whipped forward, released the deadly points - a grimace as her right arm went.

They'd damaged her rotator cuff.

Bastards.

One of the assassins thumped to the ground at the edge of the smoke screen they'd left a bit behind. For a moment she wondered if it would feel any different killing those she'd grown up with. It didn't. Any sort of gnawing sadness she felt now wasn't because of that. It was because she didn't know what was going on. Why they would bring dishonor upon themselves and the order like this? Why they would betray her?

"I didn't realize you could do magic," she huffed, falling in line next to the captain. The ground was already turning more into an incline. They had a chance. If they could get high enough and take the assassins by surprise.

Four left now. Unless there were others. She didn't want to know if there were others. But she did know they had to kill them all.
 
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It felt that with every step the wound on his side tore open wider and wider. She had stabbed him quite deep and he hadn't the chance to at least staunch the bleeding. His eyes darted to the knife that circled through the air and past his shoulder.

He grunted as the ground gradually inclined. The discomfort of his side grew at an exponential rate.

“Sometimes...” his breathing was labored now. “Comes in handy.”

He scanned the rocky slopes ahead. If they could find a good, elevated spot, he could fight off the assassins with his bow. Or at least when they see its power, it may force them to flee.
 
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Bootsteps were light and quick along the rocks now. Even in the near-pitch of the night. The twin moons had always provided enough light. Luckily for them, they weren't full. The incline had turned into rocks and boulders they needed to scramble over. Artemis looked behind her and saw the Captain struggling. She had her own problems with pulling herself up over the larger boulders while mainly using one arm. One good shoulder.

But he needed to keep up or they were both dead.

Long legs carried her back to him, a quick glance behind them told her they had a few seconds. His magic from earlier had at least bought them that. She had to make them count.

"Wait," she hissed, a hand going to press against the armor at his hip. Her other went to the fabric hanging down the back of his waist and she ripped a long swath off. Easy. Efficient. No-nonsense. Slender, muscled, long arms reached around his waist with that swath of ripped fabric as she secured it over his wound and with a sharp tug against him, tied it down securely.

"Can't have you falling behind."
 
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“You should want that,” he grimly stated, “I can keep them busy and die while you run off. Contract done, and you get a chance to escape.”

Despite the annoying hole in his side, his mouth worked just fine. He swallowed, but his mouth was dry.

“We have to stop soon. If we can ambush them from above.” He poked a thumb at the bow on his back, “I can at least scare them off.”

He carried a black bow, metallic in appearance, with many intricate engravings on its limbs. Oddly enough, he didn’t have a quiver or any arrows.

“I can’t keep this pace up.”
 
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Head shook in the negative and she tugged that bandage tighter once more for good measure. She was close to the Captain and the cool, night air intermingled between them. Her back was wet with oozing, warmed blood. His warm, ragged breath close to her long neck, eyes trained down as she tied off the cloth.

"Your contract is void. My own order has betrayed me and I'm not sure why. I may escape if you fell behind but that would only help me tonight."

She needed him. Alive. And a larger part of her didn't want the people who threw a knife in her back to succeed. Of course, she wasn't expecting the Captain to help her. Even if they took care of the others tonight. The other part of her was ready for him to stick his own knife in her back. But she felt like there was mutual respect. He'd matched her in combat one-on-one. And she hadn't run into that in a long time. And perhaps he hadn't either.

Head lifted and she looked over his shoulder, eyeing that bow suspiciously. Lips pursed but she didn't say anything. He was full of surprises tonight.

She turned and pointed up the rocks. "See that ledge there? Can you get there?"

And she knew he wouldn't be able to keep up for long. Neither could she. She'd need his help bandaging her own wound beneath the clothes and armor she wore. She needed rest.
 
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“That so?” His voice trailed and he softly groaned as she tugged the wrap one final time. Perhaps she failed one too many times. He wouldn't tell her that, of course.

There was something ironic about her wrapping the wound she made; about everything that was going on. If they survived the night and could find rest, maybe he would think on it more.

He nodded with a soft grunt and went for the ledge. Their footing steeply inclined, and after some struggling Uvogin perched himself up on the ledge, bow now in hand, fingers loosely wrapped on the bowstring.

He found Artemis below and nodded.

“There’s room for two.”
 
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Lungs were burning. She loved this type of physical exertion. Always had. The kind that made it easy to fall asleep at night. The kind that left muscles burning and that heady kick of adrenaline through the bloodstream.

Head tilted up at the man. Eyes narrowed on the leverage she'd need to pull herself up. She didn't think she could do it on her own. With her shoulder.

"Can I get a ha--," a noise behind her caught her attention. Artemis turned just in time to avoid a sword through her gut. Hand scrambled for the hilt and hands of her fellow assassin as she was pushed back into the rock that the Captain perched on from above.
 
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He’d bent down, arm dangling over the ledge when one of the assassins had thrust a sword at Artemis. Uvogin swore and went back up on one knee. He could see the silhouettes of other assassins making their way up the slope.

It only took a second to take action. Uvogin drew the bowstring back, a golden light filling the intricate grooves etched into the bow’s limbs. The bowstring glowed and hummed under his fingers, and a shimmering arrow illuminated the mountainside.

There was a hollow thump as the arrow was loosed, like the sound of a mallet striking a large, deep drum. Then, in an instant, the assassin that attempted to kill Artemis fell back dead with a gaping, seared hole in their chest.

Three left.

Uvogin drew the string back again and aimed at one of the silhouettes, but they scattered as golden light flashed once more.

“Come on!” Uvogin hissed down at Artemis.
 
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In one moment she was grappling from another from the Order. Someone like her sister or brother or mentor with only a cold indifference in their eyes as they went to finish their target: her. She wondered if leadership had changed. Had they found something out she hadn't? She knew it wasn't as simple as the Captain still being alive. She still had weeks on that contract.

Did another assassin's order come in and take over the Isle of Sorcha?

Artemis had known she'd been rising in the ranks but the idea of someone betraying their own honor code for fear she might step into leadership was against anything she'd ever known - ever been taught as a youngling on the island.

But in the next moment the masked assassin was dead - body smoldering and flung far away from her. Blinking, head tilted to look up at Uvogin and for a moment, he looked like a fallen avenging angel. She was tall and could almost reach the ledge herself - without jumping. But she had to jump a little. A cry left her throat as her injured shoulder rotated but couldn't pull herself up the rest of the way and for a moment, she hung precariously.

If he wanted her dead, this would be a good time to do it. A a part of her fully expected him to do it, even after what he'd just done.
 
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Uvogin immediately bent down as the pained cry escaped her lips and, pulling her by her underarm, helped her climb up the ledge. It was evident that he didn't want her dead, at least not yet. While he pulled her up, Uvogin kept his attention trained on the dark slope below them, but didn't spot any movement. It seemed his gamble had worked in scaring them off, at least for now.

"Come on," he groaned and rose from his knee, "we need to put distance between us- lose them in the mountains."

He looped the bow over an arm and held his side as he hobbled further up the slope hoping to come across a path they could use to better travel on the mountainside. He didn't look back and only hoped she would follow.

They would come across a narrow path that leads to a small overhang, just enough to somewhat comfortably fit two people.
 
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"There," she pointed with her good arm to the small space that they could hide. She left the other tightly pressed into her side. Head tilted, not hearing any pursuit. Perhaps they'd wait until morning to strike. Perhaps the Captain had gotten them all.

"We need to regroup. I need to stitch your wound and hopefully you can do the same for me or we won't last the night." Artemis had a small medkit within her armor. She usually had to stitch up her own injuries. And with one on her back, she was thankful Uvogin was still alive.

"You first." Fingers reached into her clothing and took out the needle and thread. Bandages. He'd need to take his armor and shirt off. She'd need to do the same, eventually. The night air was cold and with the blood down her back she couldn't help the small shiver.
 
He followed Artemis under the overhang and unfastened the belt at his waist. It clattered as it fell to the ground.

“I feel fucking anemic,” he grumbled, “and it’s fucking cold.”

Uvogin groaned as he unstrapped dark, boiled leather armor, and let it fall to the ground and pulled his black shirt over his head.

His stomach was painted red, smeared with blood that still flowed from the wound in his side. The captain fished a small waterskin from the belt he’d set aside earlier and uncorked it before taking a swig. He offered it to her, wiping his mouth with his bicep.

“Be gentle.”
 
Their breath escaped in a fog. The temperature was dropping quickly - the desert at night with the elevation they'd gained in the mountains. She frowned. If the other assassins didn't kill them, the elements would. It would be too risky for a fire.

Be gentle.

"No promises," there was no malice in her words. She took the water, taking a swig before pouring some of it out over his wound. She took a knee to the rocky-surface at his side. "Try not to move and try not to scream." A flash of devilry in her pale eyes.

One hand went to his hip as best it could with the injury to her shoulder as the other moved to make the first stab, then thread of the needle - moving quickly and expertly as she began tugging his flesh back together. The captain would be able to tell she'd done this before and the stitches showed skill and precision. Much like when she fought. Although, this was far less violent. Gentle even.

Getting to the end of his wound, she tied off the string and cut off the extra using her teeth.
 
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Uvogin's muscles writhed and tensed as she poured water, painfully cold, over the open wound. There she was with her trademark quips. Don't move? Don't scream?

What was he, some nun-in-training?

"That would depend on you," he grumbled, but his reciprocation of derision was promptly snuffed as the needle passed through his skin.

Uvogin sharply inhaled and held his breath for a moment before shakily exhaling. He repeated it rhythmically, and while obviously it wouldn't negate the pain, it did help distract him from it.

As she finished, he gently prodded it with his fingers and felt grateful that she'd missed his tattoos.

"Thanks," he whispered and sighed. "Now you."
 
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She stood slowly.

"Fine," tone was curt with a blunt edge of weariness. She began taking off her armor and padding, one strap at a time. "Don't sound so excited."

Voice was drier than the desert air.

With a wince, fingers tugged off her bloodied tunic. Carefully, she pulled the long strands of moonlight hair away from her shoulder, long neck tilting slightly to the side so he'd have full access to her own stab wound at the back. She passed him off the needle and string. Perhaps he'd get a glimpse of the other scar marks along her back. Knife wounds mostly. One burn mark. One hand braced herself on the stone wall in front of her.

"Ready," teeth ground.
 
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