Dreadlords Homecoming.

[Salak]

The hour was late and all the beast and babes long since put to bed and rest. The Vel Anir sky grew dark casting long shadows over narrow streets. In those streets the daytime business was the scurrying of ants in a colony all working for the good of the hive whether they knew it or not.
It was as it had always been.
*Clack-clack*-clack* The wood of his cane on the cobbles echoed only to be absorbed by the cut stone of the buildings around him. The City ate everything. Even sound, even innocence. Had he ever been innocent? The memory of innocence, if it was ever there, was long beaten from his bones.
*Clack-clack-clack* Rats and beggars fled his path and they were right to. He had used this route many times always when returning to the Academy to report his findings and the legend of his passing had spread among the common folk like mind-fire.
"It's a ghost"
"A spirit walks amongst us."
"Don't touch him or he takes your soul."
Salak, Lowest of Dreadlords, allowed himself a smile on his dour face. *If they only knew how right they are.*
Taking a corner sharply he marched his grim beat with single minded determination. His eyes, pale and green, watched every shadow from under his hood, no motion escaped him. Two in the alley, one dead, a mugging, a knife in the hand, murder, take blood, not coin, personal, not mugging, murder.
The racing of his mind disassembled the scene in passing. There was no danger to him, not here, not in these streets where his shadow passing would be blamed for the man's death. *Good, they'll fear me more and leave me alone.*
He approached the Academy Gates, tall and beautiful in their menace. He stopped at the place he always did and shuddered, alone in himself and in the shadow of his ruin his teeth gritted and his hands balled into fists. Beneath his skin the poisons of his body threatened to rupture from his veins.
How he hated coming back to this place. Three years had not nearly been long enough.
His liaison would meet him here as they always did their identity was never known to him beforehand but he seldom cared for that. He would make his report and leave for another three years.
--The OOC scoop--
Salak is coming back from a time away. He usually does not stay long and that's why he has not been around till now. This is serving as a character intro for him first and a meet and greet second though there will be plenty of time for that.

 

[Victoria Von Fleet]

The hour was late, but that was perfect for Victoria. It's not like she was a rule follower anyways, and she preferred the night anyways. People were vulnerable in their sleep, easy to sneak around, easy to kill. No to mention, she thrived on nightmares, she loved making others twitch under her rule, the power it made her feel was indescribable. She wandered the halls humming quietly, a bright idea suddenly lighting her features as she made a dash for the dorms.

She summoned a nightmare dog as she skipped, it silently following her at a lope. It had flesh missing, red eyes, and toothy jaws to rip and tear, black as night naturally. She ran up the narrow stairs, slamming Silas's door open. The nightmare dog jumped up on the bed, staring down at Silas as Victoria laughed. She shook him by his shoulder eyes full of glee. "Silas! Come play with me! I wanna go outsiiiiide."

Her words came out in a sing song of a voice, as she waited for him to wake up. Part of her knew he wouldn't refuse, lest she start the academy on fire..again. She wanted to go outside, and she wasn't going to take no for an answer. "Pleeeease Silas, I didn't even bring Clubby." Her club was her weapon of choice, it was covered in spikes and she loved the sound of blunt force cracking someone's skull when she hit them.

Salak Silas Artesto

 

[Silas Artesto]

Silas had been sleeping perhaps a bit more than he should have been lately, or he'd been trying to anyway. Vasha's disappearance had been difficult for the Initiate; he hadn't realized until she wasn't around anymore just how fond of the strange dragon-girl he'd grown. Now that she'd gone who knows where, Artesto had fallen back into the monotony of his training and studies, leaving him time for little else outside of missions.

It had been stupid, plotting to run away from the Academy to help some girl. He was a soldier, not some lovestruck child seeking affection. The only thing that mattered to him was becoming as skilled as he could, so that he could avenge the lives of his parents, and that meant pulling every pointed ear off of every elf he could get his hands on. No, not just elves, anybody who stood in his way. There was no more time for games.

It was these dreams and aspirations that led Silas to sleep each night, a bandage over the fresh wound on his soul. A shame then, that his sleep was so regularly interrupted by her.

The first time she'd sent a hellish monstrosity into his bed, he'd screamed in terror at the sight. This time, he reached out and shoved the mangy thing off of his mattress before he even opened his eyes, sitting up in his bed and letting his blanket fall to his waist, the pale flesh of his chest, ridden with small marks and scars. "Mmh... I'd ask you to fucking knock, but you didn't listen the first dozen times."

Victoria Von Fleet was a strange one. Many would call her insane, but Silas had come to realize she was perfectly sound of mind. It just happened that she had a propensity for the extreme, and didn't care how it twisted others' view of her. The fact that he tolerated her had led to him being given the dubious honor of being her 'best friend'.

Vicky waited at the foot of his bed, seemingly unaffected as the bare-skinned Silas slid out of his bed and pulled his trousers and an old shirt on. It wasn't worth arguing over the hour; Vicky was simpler than people made her out to be, once she got her way, she was usually content enough to leave well enough alone without much fuss.

Plus, it wasn't like he was hanging out with anybody else these days. Vicky seemed to like him, for what it was worth. He'd be lying if he claimed she hadn't grown on him a little.

"Come on then. Let's go before a Proctor comes up here and finds you've broken my door again."

 

[Salak]

"I am to WHAT?" Salak's anger was something he prided himself on keeping in check but this was beyond him now. The unnamed Dreadlord he now reported to simply stared at him and repeated the instruction.
"Comes from up-high. You are to serve a stint at the Academy for no less than four years before you can apply for field work again."
Salak could have struck them down in indignation but he thought better of it. Being pushed about was one thing but he knew how far and wide the influence of Vel-Anir truly was and he did not want to make an enemy of it.
"If I could simply contact..."
"The decision is made, you have your orders Fourth Rank!"
He winced at that. Dreadlord he was, true but now he was to suffer under the yoke of its classism and outdated ranks again. It was a fight he knew he could not win.
"Very well." He gritted his teeth and tried to accept this for the moment.
"Excellent." The bringer of his orders left and Salak knew that eventually he would have to follow them.
He thought of running. He had contacts outside the various orders of the City and knew the neighbouring territories well enough to hide as he made his way farther afield but it was the action of an animal. To run without looking from a predator, trusting instinct to protect what the mind could not.
Salak was not an animal, he was not ruled by instinct.
He began to think about the Academy and what he could do there. How he might turn this situation to some advantage. He swore to himself he would never step through those gates again but by his own choice so he needed to give himself a reason.
A task easier said than done.

Victoria Von Fleet Silas Artesto