Private Tales Sand and Sea, a Red Dawn

[Eamon Stroud]

Yoru​

Eamon thrummed his fingers against the table of the little tavern and inn barely meeting the threshold for an established place of business in his book.

But that was a case for the majority of things around the Black Bay it seemed. The warf they had agreed to meet at housing the easiest route to find safer passage to and from the place. Safer if only it meant the captains had more sense than to blindly accept bribes for taking passengers to slave auctions. It helped when you knew your way around the blade as well to be completely fair, and had made it clear with a rolling head that you wouldn't be asking nicely a second time. Thankfully the decapitated idiot had been a tail planted among them to run off and gather friends.

Likely someone knew trouble was coming or had a nasty habit of making trouble for themselves with alarming ease around the Bay. Either way, it was one less body between himself and the strange bit of work they'd be doing today.

Looking over the details once more as he leaned over the table, precariously balanced against the lip of the chair and having to firmly plant his feet to keep upright.

The furniture, described as nicely as he could manage with the lack of disdain present, was well used. Be it a common occurrence or simple mishap, he was certain he'd spied a splicing of new and old wood around the legs to keep them in use rather than make a new seat. And the constant creak beneath him warned agaisnt relying on it to hold his entire weight or relaxing in the slightest. Which was honestly a good descriptor for even daring to visit the Black Bay. If it hadn't been for needing to assist in business, he wouldn't have come to this gods forsaken place to start.

But coin was a healthy motivator for someone in his line of work. And graves seldom filled themselves without steady hands behind the process.

Someone had wanted to stir the pot in this place. The gathering of power currently around the Bay idle and complacent in their ways and in dire need of some inspired actions. Or at least that's how the pitch for the work had been spun to him. If it offered a chance to keep himself from idling and losing his edge, he didn't particularly mind. The bar maid stopped by his table, a grin across her face as she set out a small plate of bread and dried meats. The eyes behind the helmet looking them over slowly before deciding to indulge. Stripping away a small piece of bread while tearing a sliver of meat with it and slipping it between the slits of the visor to eat.

The sounds of his eating muted as he paused and reflected on his choice.

"Hmm."

 

[Yoru]

Up above in the sky, the sun briefly seemed to flicker red. A red the color of blood, if only for a fraction of a second blanketing the surroundings in crimson. At least, that's what those near Yoru remarked before they fell over, blood pouring out of their noses where they fell unconscious. Yoru heard everything, every thud of the bodies on the floor. They were not dead, just unable to handle his presence.

They would be ok, he hoped. If not, though, oh well. They simply weren't worthy of his majesty. Oh, not Yoru's majesty. He had none. If anything, he was a puppet. A puppet so long as the jester along for the ride on his shoulder, treating him like a beast of burden, was there. Beliyal laughed, a discordant sound that made Yoru cringe, his ears hurting as they struggled to block the noise out. His patron's energy flooded his head, blocking out any thoughts except FORWARD.

They were on their way to meet a competitor in Beliyal's game, a mercenary who had accepted a job. Well, a fake one. As a professional with fighting skills, he might make for a good show. Continuing their stroll down the street, they would come to a raggedy inn, barely able to be counted as an actual establishment. A man behind them would gasp in shock as his lover got just a little bit too close to Beliyal, his wide-reaching aura sending the dame to the ground. Ooh, blood dripped out of her ears this time.

Judging by the man's expression, that didn't happen too often. How fucking delectable, Beliyal thought. I'll go back and knock out the man too. Both of them need a nap. Entering the building, Yoru walked over to a booth where he had told the mercenary he deigned to meet. The one near the painting with the red frame. Beliyal made himself visible and leaned forward, his presence becoming chokingly there. It was simply an energy that pulled you in, impossible to ignore in it's utterly evil nature.

Coughs and sputters could be heard as everyone in the inn suddenly began to struggle to breathe. Well, all except the man in front of them, his expression unreadable through the mask. You'll make a nice toy, Beliyal seethed, nearly shaking with excitement. A snap of the fingers later, and the man finally fell unconscious, helmet splitting the wooden table in two with the impact. When he next woke up, the scenery would surely be different, as would the risks. This would surely be fun.

---

Yoru simply observed the sleeping mercenary, waiting for him to wake up. The game could only begin once he had, the stone walls around them and the iron bars of the Stygian Trickster's fucked up game looming over the both of them like the angel of Death.

Eamon Stroud
(Permission to Powerplay Eamon to fall unconscious granted by Hollic)