3. Velox Talionus

Velox Talionus


  • Login: Ace-of-Spades77
    Character: Velox Talionus

    Click. The lock snapped open as he withdrew his pick. Of course it did, he’d opened it hundreds of times. Some might find it a nuisance to place a lock to which you had no key on your safe house, Velox liked to think it kept him on his toes. Besides, carrying a key was the only sure way to lose it.

    He entered the room, closing the door behind. Snap, snap, snap. He quickly slipped three locks back into place. He paused, studying the room in silence for a short moment, listening for anything out of place. He then turned and lit a torch to light the room. He then re-checked the room. The fire light cast shadows into the corners of the room, they danced quietly like fiends of oil. He was alone. Relaxing, he moved to the mirror, a bowl of water placed on the table before it. He washed his hands and face, smearing the dark paints away from his features. He looked back into the mirror; his face was young and handsome. Dark hair and blue eyed, his complexion was young, that of a 16 year old boy. Turning from his reflection he unstrapped his belt and harness, removing it and the myriad of daggers, throwing knives and short swords it held. He began drawing them from their sheathes one by one. Cleaning the ones he had soiled, polishing and oiling each blade. He then hung each back on the wall, hooks placed for each weapon.

    With a sigh he moved across the room to his cot. It wasn’t a bed fit for a throne room, but it was better than the ground. He pulled himself into bed, but sleep would not come quickly this night. Although he was weary, other thoughts taunted his mind. It was the face of a young girl, burning into his mind. He closed his eyes, but he saw himself standing there where he stood, not hours before.

    Looking around the room he took in his surroundings, it wasn’t a particularly large room. It was a study, a couple book shelves, a desk littered with paperwork, two arm chairs and a couple oil lamps dimly lighting the room. He quickly took in his surroundings; it was what he had been trained so diligently to do. Within an instant he knew how many windows there were, the distance from the door to every window and object in the room, how many beams there were in the rafters and the width of each, the size of each shadow in every corner of the room and whether he had room to hide there if need be. He knew his hiding spots, he knew his exits, and he knew his advantages.

    There was a man sitting in a chair at the desk, pouring over some papers. He was middle-aged, balding brown hair, wearing bifocals. It was the target; he was here on a contract. Why this man? Why did he deserve to die? Velox didn’t know, and he didn’t care. Perhaps he had foiled the plans of another, got in the way of someone in their bid for power. The fool probably had no idea what he had done, and no idea death was looking over his shoulder. Politics. Velox despised them, but they also kept him in business. Kept him fed, clothed and safe. Safe…how ironic.

    He slowly drew a dagger quickly moved into position, gliding over the wooden floor on the balls of his feet. Knees bent, making less than a sound as he moved. He was directly behind the man. This was going to be an easy kill. He raised the dagger, bringing it to the side of the man’s neck. With a quick thrust and retraction it pierced the side of the man’s neck, straight through the jugular and the windpipe. He made sure to angle the blade downward to direct the blood away from him. Like a grotesque fountain it poured red and warm from the man’s neck, staining his tunic dark. The man reached for his throat, feeling the warm liquid, seeing the red blood on his fingers his eyes went wide and his mouth went agape. He man quickly realized what was happening, but it was too late. Unable to scream, he would be dead in seconds. Suddenly, something didn’t feel right. Velox knew they were no longer alone. With what would seem an almost inhuman motion, and a flick of his wrist Velox twisted his body and released a throwing knife. It hit its mark, he always did. There he stood, stark still, body twisted around at his waist, his right arm outstretched towards his victim. There in the doorway, staring back at him with wide eyes was a small girl in a night gown, maybe only 8 years old. His knife was protruding from her chest. It was more likely she was surprised at seeing him and her father dying, than shocked at the wound in her chest. She probably hadn’t even realized it yet. She fell to the floor dead.

    Quickly he made his way to the nearby window. He didn’t have time to think about it. She was innocent, but it was collateral damage, it had to be done. Never leave a survivor, no loose ends. He opened his eyes and he was back in his safe house, still lying on his cot. He closed his eyes again. The thoughts ran through his mind once more. It was collateral damage, it had to be done. When we take a life we take nothing. Life is nothing. Slowly he drifted off to sleep, washing the night’s events from himself, cleansing his mind and soul.

    Velox strode into the dim lit room, his frame not overly tall or muscular. He was lean, but built like stone. The kind of muscle tone that comes from years of rigorous training for hours a day. He was 20 years old now, and he was a finely tuned engine of death and destruction. Taking a bow as he approached his superiors seated in their semi-circle of chairs, he took a seat down a short flight of stairs at their feet. The room was lit poorly enough that the faces of those seated in the semi-circle could not be seen, although those sitting in the chairs facing them were entirely visible.

    A man sitting in the center of the shadowed faces spoke to him. “We have a contract for you, Velox” the mysterious man said. Velox was given the name of some high ranking noble in the city, whom he was to kill…tonight. Doing a hit last second meant he had no time to prepare an elaborate plan. He would still do it, and he would succeed, but Velox didn’t like unknown variables. Rising from his chair he bowed and left the room, his task at hand.

    Velox peered through the window into the man’s room. It was a large room with large open windows, the moonlight cast through the windows illuminating the room well. The target lay asleep in a four post bed, tapestries hanging from the corners. A man of upper class nobility. Something didn’t seem right, something was off about this. He slowly slipped through the window, as he had done to so on so many occasions before.

    Then, he heard it. The sound of cloth rubbing cloth as a limb was set into motion by an unknown presence. He didn’t have time to think, only react. He dove forward, as a throwing knife hissed past the back of his head, sinking into the floor boards with a thud. It couldn’t be? A trap? He quickly glanced to the bed; the target was most likely already dead. There was no affording sitting still, he had to move quickly. Judging by the position of the knife, the throw had come from above. His adversary was in the rafters. With a jump he caught a corner of the best post and swung himself up into the rafters, landing on a beam, but hidden behind a vertical beam. Thud-thud-thud. He heard three more knives as they sunk into the bed post and the beam he was now hidden behind. Slowly the realization came to him that this wasn’t going to be easy.

    He waited for what seemed like an hour, still, motionless, hardly breathing. Finally, he heard it…a creaking beam to his left. Unsheathing a sword he lunged for it, but immediately he felt a searing pain through his right shoulder. It had been a diversion. But how did he…? Missing the beam he fell to the floor with an unceremonious thud as meat hit wood. Pushing himself to his hands and knees he was dizzy, he looked down to see a knife point sticking out the front of his right shoulder. Then came the sound of two soft feet hitting the floor…with grace. He could hear the man advancing on him. With what little strength he had left he forced himself to his feet and made a run for the open window. Hearing the paces quicken behind him he made a diving leap for it. Sailing through the window he tucked into a ball and rolled. It was a large drop, too far. Somehow, by the grace of some unknown entity he landed in a hedge. It wasn’t fatal, but it wasn’t necessarily soft. Rolling to his feet as quickly as he could, he ran. He ran as swift as his injured body would let him, without looking back. He couldn’t go back to his safe house, they’d be watching it, and he knew that. Thoughts raced through his mind as fast as his feet raced through the alleyways. They wouldn’t…would they? He was their best. Why? He didn’t have time to find out. He had to get away; he had to get out of this city. Whoever was behind him…they were good, maybe even better. With nothing but what he had wore that night Velox tore off towards the river, hoping to be out of the city before they were on to him.

  • ICC

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