Private Tales Presentiment

[Viego]

Viego's breathe was labored and constricted. Every breathe in sounded hoarse and would spiderweb pain throughout his chest. He stopped for a moment to regain his equilibrium, focus on his breathing. One, two, three, inhale. His eyes smiled as he recalled Elise's calming voice. One, two, three, exhale. His arms dropped to his side, encumbered, as if someone handed him a cannonball for each hand. The knees surrendered next. He sat down on his legs, tilted his head back, and embraced the violent and sorrowful winds as penance. Beads of sweat carried blood from his face down to his lapel. A hundred feet behind him lay two bodies, surgically brutalized. Over what? Did they divulge sensitive information to the wrong people? Angered a member of the gentry? He never knew. He received the marks without question. An undying and obsequious loyalty was his tether, potentially his undoing. He stumbled as he gathered himself and looked up to the massive rock he needed to get to. The sun in its unpunishable sovereignty loomed over him with watchful eyes, as he tromped towards the cavern entrance.

-

He sighed with relief as he stepped into the entrance of the cave. The immediate shift in temperature was overwhelming but sanctioned. He placed his cheek against the stone wall to siphon its frigid core. Caught up in ecstasy, he didn't initially catch sight of the silhouette biding time in the corner of his clandestine operation. He quickly drew his ebony stained dagger from his hip and stepped off from the wall. He began training his eyes to catch more details of the figure and any other potentials in the small, jagged dome. "Who are you?"

 

[Diaz]

From the shadows came a broad figure, dead eyed and stone faced.

"That was some pretty good work you did back there," he said with cold certainty. "Not everyday I run into a fellow professional," there was no joy in his voice. Not much of anything really. "Shame though," he scratched the back of his head. As easy as he stood, eye wandering to the exit, his hand rested on the sword at his hip. "I had the same marks, and now," his eyes locked back on to the rival killer. "I have to share the scraps, instead of taking the credit," he nod to the weapon at his hip, the curved long sword and short sword rested like extensions of his body. Natural, at ease.

"I got a deal for you though, professional," he said, and craned his neck one way, then the other. "You give me two names, I take their heads, and we call it even," the for today needn't be said.

 

[Viego]

He didn't sense uncertainty in the stranger's voice. He believed those eyes; he's stared into those near soulless eyes for countless nights. He lowered his dagger slowly to his sheathe, feigning amicability. "You give me the names of the marred men outside. Then we can further discuss your proposal."

 

[Diaz]

The man from the shadows smirked. "Dorian Altonari, and Remius Dantilian, of the Southern Reach," a paltry test. He was almost insulted. But a bit of skepticism was expected. Only a fool trusted. The easier the trust, the greater the fool.

So, the fellow professional had earned some respect from the man in the shadows.

"So, two names given, two names in return, then we strike even," the man in the shadows stated. Shifted his hand around his sword. "Less you want to settle this in the timeless way," he rolled his shoulders, and steadied his grip. "Well?" Patience was not his forte.

 

[Viego]

Without patience you cannot succeed in our line of work. Patience breeds an uncluttered and disciplined mind. She cultivates competence, awareness, and calm. Without patience we're just an unhinged collective raising emotionally arrested brutes.

He discarded the preaching's of Brother Lauren whilst taking a lunging step to close the gap between him and the shadow. In premeditative fashion the stranger met the engagement with similar movement. Each cutting through the space with expedient finesse as their blades crashed into each other. He quickly stepped inward, following his weight with a stab of his unseen dagger. The shadow allowed the stab to follow through right before trapping Viego's arm under his own and delivering a vicious headbutt to his already bruised face. His yelp encouraged a follow up headbutt from his aggressor, but he was ready for it. He pulled the man in with his trapped arm as if to hug him and stepped into their wide stance before flipping them over his hip. The attack was met with calculated welcome as they both slammed each other into the jagged rock floor. Their swords clattered to the ground beside them.

 

[Diaz]

Fast. The fucker was fast. Clash clang, push pull. Ground given and taken as thrust pushed through, slipped past the guard into killing space, but the man in the shadows trapped the arm, brought his skull against discolored face in a harsh crack of bone. He grinned and readied a second.

The whole world flipped. Weight off center.

Fuck.

His body was already moving, arms taught with a counter pull, his legs flare as he came down, foot hooked with enemy ankle and as he was slammed down, the man who was in the shadows grit through the shock and swept out the other bastard's feet.

Both down, the man from the shadows scrambled for position. Hands fighting with hooked grips as each killer looked for the right bind and hold to break the other. An elbow knocked against his head, and he jammed a knee into the side of the white haired bastard.

"You stupid, fuck," he cursed. But he was grinning ear to ear as another sharp, blunt blow of pain racked him.

 

[Viego]

It's been years since he met someone of equal caliber. Someone willing to sacrifice their position in combat to deliver shared pain. His adrenaline swarmed to his face to ameliorate the damage done. He could feel his heartbeat pulsing through his eyes. Fuck, that hurt. The figure before him stood partially in the light that flooded from the entrance. He didn't look a day older than him. Crack! He caught the stranger off guard with a spinning elbow to his cheekbone. Or so he thought. An opportunistic knee caught him on the side as he connected with the shadows face. They stumbled to the edge of the cavern after trading blows. He grimaced at the young man grinning before him. How could he muster a smile after a hit like that? Was this a game to him? Was he truly the only remorseful killer he'd ever know? Viego slid his fingers into the looped hilt of his dagger and pulled away, releasing knuckle busters.

 

[Diaz]

A brief pause in the pain. Fists traded, elbow blow across the face still ached, but it was nothing he hadn't been hit with before.

On his feet, in the dark, the man from the shadows was wild eyed. Teeth shown, in cruel snarling smile, as he darted back a measured step from the white haired killer, his nose ached something fierce, and it felt stuffed. A hard press of the thumb against one nostril, and a hard breath out spurt out a thick glob of blood, as his off hand pulled a hidden knife from his swords sheath.

"Look here, guy, you killed my marks," he said through manic expression, his muscles taught with supple strength, as the hits he had taken started to discolor on his flesh. "We can sit here beat the living shit out of each other, till the strongest dog wins the day," he flipped the small tanto style blade once over, then over again, his shadow creeping along the floor of the cave, stretching towards the long curved sword that rested on the stone floor by a few feet away from him. "Or you can give me two names, and I'll just go take my frustrations out on those sorry fucks, understand?!" He growled through bared teeth.

It wasn't like he couldn't just go collect the bastards molars, ears, or hands. But, scavenging didn't make you any stronger.

Suppose killing a killer did though.

His insane snarl turned pleased.

 

[Viego]

"I dont have names to give you." His voice hoarse. The Adrenaline slowing everything to a crawl. The snarling figure before him inched towards their blade. "My syndicate conducts their business privately. We're not to share anything." His tone earnest. His chest heavy and pained with each spoken word.
"But there is one thing."

The shadow's surrounding Viego seemed to envelop his knuckle buster during his step of celerity towards the feral man. With a kick off the wall, he struck down at his target, aiming to knock them off balance. He stepped into the man's guard delivering a series of obfuscated strikes to the midsection. He could feel the targets chest flex with each sickening thud. He was going hit for hit with the man, keeping his blade near and ready in hopes to find a disabling strike. But none was given. The man before him moved slightly slower than Viego, but possessed an unmatched brute force that made his strikes and counters more dangerous than his own. Spit, blood, and profanities filled the air as the two whirling dervishes commenced their dance of death.

 

[Diaz]

"You don't have names?" he growled. Spit. "Don't fuck with me!"

The two snagged in a storm of fists. Punch for punch, kick for kick. The tight lipped fucker gave two for each one of the shadowmancer's, but he felt his dig in deep. Kept every third one glancing. Kept the pain feeding his fire. He felt the blade's cold menace. Saw its glint. Streak toward him, stab him in the muscle of his shoulder, rip across a shallow line across his chest. The bloodied man kick thrust at the dagger user's gut. Stepped back, and clapped his hands together at his chest, as if in prayer, he bowed his head.

The shadows around him snaked about his feet, swallowed him whole, and the shadowmancer seemed to disappear into the darkness that clung to the cave walls.

A second clap, and a wolf, wreathed in swirling flame-like shadows lunged out from the pitch black, maw wide and open as it snapped at quick fisted knife fighter.​

 

[Viego]

He caught the bastard in the shoulder with an upward thrust of his blade. As soon as he found purchase, the crazed fighter before him shoved him off and delivered a kick full of rage to his midsection. Crunch. His sternum flexed as he slammed deltoids first into the cavern wall. Crack! His skull followed suit. The pain was sudden, so was the disorientation. Clap! He couldn't see his target. But the noise sounded suddenly distant. Clap! He regained vision moments after the second clap. He wished he hadn't. A nightmare accompanied by flame emerged from the ominous gloom. Flame spewed forth from the dark hulking mass, illuminating the room. Before him stood not a man, but a hell hound.

Smite this evil, Viego.

His tight lipped and stern face turned upward into a maniacal smile. "YOU ARE FUCKING WITH THE WRONG KILLER!" He shouted, slapping his bloodied hand to his cheek. Cackling as he wiped the blood down half his face, his fingers trailing passed his feral and rapturous eyes. He threw his arms out wide and started screaming up into the void. The shadows poured in him like starving wraiths. His veins blackened and his body violently jolted as they took hold. His body popped and cracked as it widened and lengthened. The leather armor he wore waned during the quick transformation. He quickly locked eyes with the beast.

Kill it

He shouted a vow of enmity in unison with the voices, as he charged sanctimoniously towards the devil.

Et percussit malum!

 

[Diaz]

Wreathed in the shadows, the shadowmancer watched as the man changed. His own lips parted, split to reveal wide and excited grin. Not a brother or sister of his own church, but someone touched by darkness all the same. His own shadowtwin, snapped and snarled beneath him.

The shadowmancer smiled all the wider as the thing the man had turned into raced toward his wolf. He clapped his hands again, and the wolf dissolved into smoke that swirled about the changed man.

Was this... Aphotic Psychosis?

A snarl cracked across his lips, that did quiver and twitch as he growled, broke from his veil of shadows and dove for his sword. Fingers reached out long and full stretched to reach the handle as he went airborne.

 

[Viego]

The wolf dissipated as he drove his dagger into its chest. A miscalculation. But how? Remnants of smoke and fire from the summon swarmed the crazed killer, nearly obscuring his vision. Not a shapeshifter!? FUCK. Another miscalculation. He caught glimpse of the shadowmancer's smile as he opportunistically leapt for his blade that lay equal distance before them. He kicked off the ground in mimicry. Leaping through the air towards the coveted blade, just like his counterpart. His dagger ripping through the space with unhinged celerity towards the bastard. Hungry and deserving, the voices unearthed their gluttony. Bring him to us. We could use the company. Yes, yes, more the merrier.

 

[Diaz]

A red line sliced through fibers of flesh. Warmth spread out. Spilled. Sprayed. His hands took hold of the sword's hilt. The right side of his torso bled, with gash run long, blood spilled hot and fast.

His shadow held its sword too.

Wreathed in the wisps of shade and smoke, The shadowmancer brought sword to guard. Steel caught against steel in loud test. A push and pull, a grit and growl. Smiles and madness as strong arms pushed for position. Feet found underneath each. Diaz let slip the dagger from the length of his sword. Turned to strike. Twist, hips snapped and arms pulled and pushed in downward wrath cut. His flesh protest. Pain flaired. Fibers ripped and spasmed.

His shadowed twin stood beside him, a body turned corporeal, darker than dark, guard raised and ready. It was two against one now.

 

[Viego]

Calculated.
A jet of crimson sprayed out from the daggers point. The shadowmancer's weakness had been exploited. Something gained, but at a cost. His blade lapped up the bloody scraps as the man before him gained his ground, and his guard. A shadow duplicate coalesced into existence and began to emulate the mans movement. Catching Viego off-guard. "More illusions!?" He laughed, testing the guard with a blow to its heart. Blades tested, steel against steel echoing off the cavern walls. Position lost and gained, stab, slash, parry. A covert and retributive glint found purchase in his shoulder. The man's shadow mimicked the attack. A quick twist and downward slice exposed Viego's upper chest whilst cutting into him. His blood spilled in protest against the cavern floor. He struck again, and again, testing the might and resolve of the warrior before him. It was met with counter, parry, and help. In unison, the shadow and summoner delivered on promise of aiding one another.

Two against one? He locked eyes with the pair before him as the dust kicked up after a final push off...
Show him we are MANY. The voices clamored.

 

[Diaz]

Clash, clang, scrape, scrap slice!

Red spilled onto the floor, a dagger point found his arm. A cut near took the tendon of his right wrist. Too shallow thanks to the intervention of his shadow. The dark-blade gripped in his twin's hands pushed back the short-bladed death dealer.

Diaz growled, roared, cut back with a horizontal slice. Felt steel slick through flesh.

His brother. His twin. The other half of his soul. Nameless. But the bond was still there. The connection. It was something that could not be understood by any outside the trials. Outside the church, and the realm of the Caliginous. The Assassins of Mother Menese.

Still. This man had not fallen to his blade.

To their blades.

Blades tested, shadow thrust, his sword pushed forward, he made to grab, to grapple. He was bigger. Stronger. The shadows stitched his wounds back together. Slow. Did not replenish the blood lost, but kept more from spilling so quickly.

He came apart from this rival, snarled, his twin there beside him. The shadow figure clutched at a wound.

The shadowmancer looked across the darkness. "You aren't half bad, killer," he said with violent grin. "Almost a shame it came to this," he smirked. Blood dripped from his wounds and his hand trembled about his sword.

He could likely die here.

What a pity that would be.

"What's your name?" his eyes glint through the darkness as the shadows swirled about him. Tendrils of smoke, licked at his wounds as the mother's darkness stitched his flesh back together again. Fiber by fiber.

Viego

 

[Viego]

The feral man growled and hissed as his blade cut horizontally into the weak point of Viego's armor, finding his left abdominal. He took an anticipatory breathe right before the blade found its mark. Eyes widened, pain shooting up to his atlas. A quick twist of the blade rendered him nugatory. No sound came from his lips. He grimaced as the shadow twin eagerly pushed the blade in further. A flash of white blanketed his vision; and like a fish to bait, he was violently reeled back into ivory oblivion. Falling uncontrollably. Inky faces manifesting before him, whispering cryptically. He could feel gravity make its presence known as the fall slowed to a crawl. Inscrutable and dissonant whispers continued to echo above him. The pain in his abdominal present, but just a ghost feeling. Pressure, like one you'd hold on an irremediable wound. Did he die? If so, could it be so bad?

"You aren't half bad, killer,"

The shadowmancer's voice rang out through the void. He looked up. Nothing.

"Almost a shame it came to this."

Again, but from where? He snapped a quick glance behind him, then back around again. No one.

"What's your name?"

He could see a faint outline of the shadowmancer's body before him. Tendrils of fading shadow licking at the edges of his drawn body. BRING HIM TO US!

"My name is Viego!" He shouted his name out with conviction. He then reached out to grab the shadows, hoping to reveal their hideous nature in the light of atonement.

 

[Diaz]

A grin, wild and hungry, spread across the shadowmancer's mouth. His teeth bared in full. As his eyes went wide with excitement. His hands gripped tight his sword once more, that long curved blade. His twin did the same.

"VIEGO!" he shout back. Mouth cracked wide with glee as all his frame tensed and ready to bring death. He could see the man clear as day, there in the pitch of swirling shadow. The desperation. The abandon. "YOU FACE DIAZ" His lead foot scraped forward, his arms raised his blade. "PREPARE TO DIE!" He let out with pride.

Steel came to steel. Strength tested strength. He grit his teeth, bared his snarl. His twin drove his blade forth.

Then all was white. All was void. Burning. Searing. Diaz felt as if his eyes had gone blind. Felt as if they had been burned out of his skull.

There within the bright nothing, he screamed and shielded his eyes as he doubled back.

Tears welled fat at the corners as he waited for the pain of blade's bight. He swiped his own sword. He laughed, eyes still closed shut as he swiped at nothing. At everything. An echoe of woes. An echoe of voices. A chorus of wrath screamed in his ears. So he shout. "VIEGO!!!!" For the sound and shake of his own chords roaring in defiance, only that kept his mind together there in the absence and negation. He laughed. Mad. "YOU FUCKING BASTARD!"

Anti-shadow.

Viego

 

[Viego]

"YOU FACE DIAZ"!"

"PREPARE TO DIE!"

His hands felt hot. As if white knuckling ember. The shout of name startled him. He held firmly on to the wispy form before him. With all his might, through grit teeth, hands on fire, he yanked DIAZ through. An immediate shrill and flash of white light sent him careening into the nothing. The echoes of mockery infiltrated his mind. He screamed with them in unison. Torment. Pain. Despair. He held his ears firmly, eyes shut. No, no, NO!
The turpitudinous chorus came to an abrupt silence.

"VIEGO!!!!"

Emboldened.

"YOU FUCKING BASTARD!"

He blinked his eyes open. Hunched over, hands to ears, blood streaking through his fingers. Coating his hands red. The ivory void hummed with hunger. The echoes let them have their pyrrhic victory. He knew if they stayed here any longer they'd join them in their eternal vile. A blurry Diaz was furiously striking at the air around him. His blade whistling with every cut, every attempt to kill. His shadow twin nearly there, emulating weakly.

The white canvas surrounding them grew brighter. The hungered thrum followed suit. He let IT, win. He let IT bring him and the shadowmancer here. "FUCK!" His voice was swallowed by the unseen threat. He grasped his throat. Not good, Not good! He closed his eyes and focused on Diaz. Hoping to reach him before it was too late. Diaz! Diaz! He felt a surge of pain dance across his skull, hundreds of needles pricked him all at once dropping him to his knee. He blindly stepped towards the whirling dervish.

The enemy of my enemy....

Diaz

 

[Diaz]

It was a sound that seared down to the very axons. His mind ablaze with the white crunch and crackle. Like so many bones cracked and fragmented. Turned to shards. Turned to splinters. Turned to dust.

Diaz could hardly feel the strength in his limbs. Nor the iron of his weapon. His feet, hardly felt beneath him. His left eye, pale as hoarfrost, seared in its socket. Felt cold enough to vapor and smoke.

He screamed louder, "Aaaaah!!!" and fell to his knees as he felt his twin leave him. His shadow, felt as if it had been torn away and devoured by all the noise. All the sounds that rattled and shook and melted his nerves. His limbs spasmed, and his digits clutched.

He grit his teeth. Bared his fangs as his eyes, wide, struggled to focus.

No. No. NO!

His sword. His weapon.

His eyes searched for that tool that was so part of him. Assassin. Survivor. Brother of Inigo, whom he felt burning out of his eye. Inigo. Who seemed to swirl and stitch together from the vapors of Diaz' frost-burn dream.

The pull of the swirling birth which poured from his pupil, held his gaze up, but his hands reached down. He felt the yank of something, like a hook at the end of a line, pull his head up from his left white eye, which still steamed an icy trail. Felt as if his eye would tear out.

He grit his teeth all the more.

"YOU ARE FUCKING DEAD!" he shout and ripped himself down. Felt a tear inside of him as his hands found his sword. As he rose up, the blade shimmered in a up with him, a cresecent slash that aimed to split the figure before him.

A face that looked like his. Only blue eyed. Inigo. The brother he had devoured.

Viego

 

[Viego]

He couldn't reach out to the man before him. His voice purloined, body sweltering, vision blurry. Witnessing the grisly scene before him amplified the chamber they were trapped in. Their pain and suffering feeding the insatiable hunger of the voices circling them. Circling them like frenzied sharks. He focused what little energy he had left on clearing his sight to better see Diaz. He saw confusion, loss, grievance, anger, and hatred. Hatred. Hatred echoed over the words Diaz shouted.
The killer reached for his weapon. He couldn't move, only watch. He tried to clear the lump in his throat to give out one last plea. Nothing. Diaz stepped closer.

Just breathe. Her voice overpowering the rest.

Another step closer.

He closed his eyes. Inhale.

Now exhale.

The blade struck its mark. Like sharpened scissors to paper, it split him down the middle. A perfect tear. Both sides of him flattened as they dropped to the floor. Inhale. The remnants of Viego darkened, turning into pools of inky void. The seemingly infinite white expanse around Diaz began to shake violently. The floor slowly poured into the voids, as if being sucked in. The voices and their mockery turned trepidatious. The laughter became shrieks of confusion. Their hissing grew louder and more incoherent as they attempted to make their escape. To no avail, they were pulled in. Erupting into one final cacophonous laughter before their reluctant exit. Exhale. The ivory walls peeled away as if mere illusions. The floor bubbled and cracked as if deconstructed by the nascent rumblings of an earthquake. All had been consumed. All that was left was Viego's unconscious and bloodied body. A velour colored mote buzzing near his left ear.

Diaz

 

[Diaz]

Blind and deaf, save for the sight of his own rage, searing white in his eye. Save for the roar of his own futility. Like so much glass crushed to dust under boot. Ineptitude. Failure.

The blade came stiff in his hands. The muscles of his arm flexed. Held true the cut. Kept the edge aligned. Pulled the weapon through to the other side.

It was over.

So too was the world around him. Fractured and split. Shattered to pieces that fell apart and broke against a ground that swirled like a whirlpool of white drink. Down into the abyssal forms of his brother, slain and left to lay in twain as the earth itself woke.

A rumble in the assassin's throat. A snarl. He had killed him again. Inigo. The brother who had left himself to be cut down before his lesser twin. A grin, sharp toothed and mad, split across his face.

They were back in the cave. His twin a shade beneath his feat. Diaz choked on a scream before he took breath. The sound ripped through his chest as he fell to his knees. Sword still in hand, let out a wail, like wolf's bay to the moons, and fell forward.

Outside the cave, a party of guards, on the hunt for murderers. On the prowl for assassins.

Viego

 

[Viego]

The winter wind sporadically whistled through the frozen perforations of the brick wall. Torches loosely placed around the room struggled to stay aflame against the encroachment of the chill. Frozen chains hanging from the ceiling reluctantly clanked together as the bodies tethered to them weakly rustled awake.

"Oi, Brady! The lads are stewin about! Send word to Vorl."
The leather clad figure gave a near toothless smile towards the helpless assassins.
"Vorl is going to love making mince meat outta you lot." He spat out soggy tobacco onto the floor and wiped his chin of the remnants of his own spittle. "Heh. What you did to our boys won't be forgotten. Vorl 'el make sure of that." He spit again. This time aiming for the pair.

Diaz

 

[Diaz]

Thick lashes fluttered to waking. The mismatched eyes behind the lids adjusted to the low light of the cell. The harsh gold and red of fire flickered and danced as his pupils adjusted to the new setting. The new light.

A voice. One he had not heard. His head lulled, his arms pulled up high and over his head the pressure on his joints caused pain. The iron of the manacles cut into his skin. Dug into his flesh and tendons as they rubbed into bone. A red hurt. He grit his teeth. Slowed his breath.

Nothing he wasn't trained to handle.

The voice kept saying words.

Diaz' eyes looked up. Saw the face. Hard angles and a proud look in his eyes.

The spit splat against his face. Dribbled down his cheek in viscous disrespect. Diaz laughed.

"Vorl, huh?" he said in harsh and rasped whisper. Bent his neck to rub the spit from his cheek with the cloth on his shoulder. Drew in spit of his own, and spat it back at the mans face. "Fuckin bring him here then, you sorry dog,"

Diaz' shadow deepened beneath him.

---

Viego

 

[Viego]

Viego's head ached, as if a giant was squeezing his skull til it popped. The frozen chain around his wrists sent disagreeable cold throughout his body, reaching his extremities. Where was he? He slowly opened his weighted eyes to the sounds of banter. Blurred vision couldn't make out the figure beyond the gates. But he did notice the man next to him. Diaz. He gave a laborious sigh. A fleeting misty cloud pushed passed his lips. We made it out. That's good. The silhouette made a nasty throat clearing sound and sent a vile projectile towards Diaz. Diaz shouted back and returned the favor.

He needed to focus. He closed his eyes again. Slowed his breathe. He began to hone his ears. Blood rushed to them in effort to support. They ached, nearly frostbitten. How long have we been here? He keyed in on the faint crackle of the torches. The agitated shuffling of the man as he exited the room. Diaz's breathing. Then the whistling of the wind above. Ah, we aren't underground. Favorable. He listened for the man's footsteps. Down. He's descending. Unfavorable.

He opened his eyes and turned to Diaz. "Any chance we're in your head?" He attempted to smirk, but a grimace would have to do.

Diaz