Ominous

[Kagemaru]

A secluded corner booth well after the midnight oil has burned; a man and a ghost which walks like one meet for a battle of wills and the play for power that comes with conversation deciding the fate of others.

"I'm done. I don't want any part of this anymore."
Rafe's voice didn't waver as much as it had when he had said it in his head.  He had the confidence of anger and frustration on his side, much like an adrenaline rush of words.

"Why are you telling me? I'm not making you do this."
The rasp on the other side of the conversation was much the same as Rafe's, though his confidence was tempered at the forge of ego and hostility, "You made a choice then and you've made a choice now."

The verbal adrenaline faded, and this part would probably play out just as it had in Rafe's inner dialogue.  He had rehersed it many times, and each time he ended up at the same resolution.

"I need your help, one last time."

Piercing eyes like teeth made to rip words from a person's throat; to get you to say exactly what he wanted you to say.  The game continued for the Ghost-That-Walked-Like-Man.

"You pay, this time. I'm through with favors."  Rip. Gnash. Tear.

"What do you want?"  The words popped from Rafe's mouth as though he was punched in the stomach while sipping whiskey.  You'd hate to waste the whiskey and it hurt like hell, but you were going to spit regardless.

The ghost's eye did not light up.  He didn't giggle with anticipation. He didn't point like a child at the gnomish gadget store.  He merely stated what Rafe already knew, in just as many words.

"You already know," the rasp said frigidly.

Rafe didn't slump in his chair.  He stood confidently, as if by the lucky charm in his belt, the words did not phase him like they were supposed to.  The live show had a much different ending than the dress rehersal, in which Rafe buckled like a beaten puppy to the words and the glare.  His answer was the same, but he had finally conversed the man of shadow, or shadow of a man depending on the lighting, to a draw.

"Fine," he said.  I'll be glad to be rid of her."  It almost hurt physically to say that.

The rasp on the other end of the table barely let Rafe's voice finish making the sounds.
"Everything will be taken care of."  The shadow already knew what had to be done.

And with those ominous words, both of them left the Lion's Mane in opposite directions.  Rafe to his house and the ghost presumably back to hell.

[Anaris]

Bella walked inside the dark, empy house after a long afternoon in the guild hall.  Her dainty hands were now calloused, in spite of the gloves she wore.  It had been a particularly exhausting training session with the guild hall dummies.  She was learning how to use the new staff Rafe gave her.   She remembered he gave her two staffs to choose from and it was terribly difficult for her to pick between them.  They were both beautiful.   Rafe's craftsmanship was quite formidable. 

But that was the last time she saw Rafe, the day he presented her with the new staff upon reaching her 60th circle of knowledge.

Ethos, Logos, and Pathos trailed behind her, keeping a few feet's distance from each other.  Bella was growing irritated of the trinity's constant fighting, and they sensed it.  The newcomer, Pathos, a baby imp granted to her by Solusek Ro, wasn't quite trained yet.  Since the reckless imp's arrival, things were tense among Bella's familiars.  Pathos was volatile and prone to anger bursts.  He also didn't like Logos much...

Bella stopped the drake, while the other two continued upstairs to the garden.  "Logos, you are the older one.  Be mature about it.  Pathos is young and silly but he'll learn if you teach him.  Be a little more understanding.  Act your age!"

Logos glared at her. "You should talk," he hissed.

Bella ignored the drake and continued on to her room.  She was beginning to worry.  A week had passed by and Rafe had not been home.  The last time she knew he'd been over was when he left her a rare Faydark bloom in the garden.  A gift, he said.  She wasn't really sure what the gift was for but she thought maybe it was his way of "retaliating" for the butterfly invasion.  She smiled, thinking this might be Rafe's idea of getting back at her.

And there were other things preoccupying her mind:  Ralas and the wizard from Neriak; Drevant and the being who broke into his house; Kittens Purssalot possibly being part of a smuggling ring; some Saga members' animosity toward Zandeel and the Morag Tong; the Artists of Destruction vandalizing the hall... 

Never a dull moment in the Saga hall, she thought to herself.

Then she felt an all too familiar presence, a presence she had grown oddly accustomed to.

She smirked. "You can come in, Shadow...  I'm decent.  And I've a few questions for you.  But for starters, you know the whereabouts of a fellow named Rafe?" 

She smiled as Kagemaru materialized before her eyes.

She also realized her question sounded more like a statement.

[Kagemaru]

"You spent all this time trying to redeem yourself, but the true reward came when you redeemed another."

Stanos.
You lying bastard.
Your mind was too weak for the Taint, so you cursed me instead.
Used me to clear your name and assume control of the Circle back from Hans.
I've yet to redeem anyone, and I sure as hell haven't redeemed you.


[Back...]

Months under the Nerian sky of stalactites and bat swarms paled his once bronzed skin to a sickly shade of starch.  He stuck out like a wisp against the other populous - even his (undeserved) reputation as a ruthlessly efficient assassin that followed him into this city wasn't enough to shield him from the constant glares.  To the Tier'Dal, he was a threat to the delicate balance of power.  The blood haired outsider was a mystery to them, as were his motives for being there.  Only two individuals had an inkling to his plan, and the one that wasn't Kagemaru believed the lie.

Assassination and theft were not the greatest tools in Kagemaru's arsenal.  No, that honor belonged to deception.  Even the Ebon mask found itself fully intent on watching his right hand while his left did as it pleased.

[Forth...]

Neriak had not changed much.  Ever the xenophobic little city under a canopy of stone held together by deciet, treachery and hate; where a simple truth was enough to topple the entire tower of faith.

Any still alive that would have even the slightest chance at remembering the man with the blood red hair would surely assume an instance of deja-vu; a hiccup in the flow of time's memories.  Familar for a reason, yet relegated to being just another Freeport expatriate.  Kagemaru had no fear of being recogized.  It was the weapon that he carried which had him worried.

[Back, again...]

It was wrapped in silk and kept in a stove in Highpass for the last thirty years.  A weapon so hot with desire from those that knew of its existance that cooking it was the only way to cool it off.  And now a yound man was unknowingly cursed with its touch.  No amount of lies he could spin could hide the origin of its design: The seething fury of Hatred.  Innoruuk's kiss.

General V'Ghera dead.  Neriak out of the question.  Stanos on his way back to Qeynos where Hans still wanted both he and Kagemaru dead.  A terrible idea.  Freeport still holding a city wide manhunt for the (most recent...) assassin of Lucan D'Lere.  Best stay away.  Kagemaru had once choice left to him.  He had heard whisperings of the discovery of a new continent.

[Back to the Forth...]

It had been many years since he had seen a Sarnak.  They still repulsed him.  A race of nobles and slaves now thriving in a city open themselves to those which proved able to the cause.  Merchants and ships regularly making rounds, people walking in the open air.  A far stretch from the old days.  Those days which made Kagemaru prefer the cloak and dagger of Neriak to the snorting and growling of Chardok.  At least the elves smiled to your face before slicing your spine in two.  The Sarnak he knew and loved would have just eaten him on the spot for even looking at their city.  They would have, too, had he not caught wind of the Goblinfriend...

These Sarnak were long removed from those concerned with taking over all of Kunark from the crumbling Iksar empire and the pockets of goblin tribes.  These were somehow a lot more tame.

[Quick trip back...]

With Skrathis Ven Sho on the brink of war with itself after he had assassinated their leader, Kunark proved to be too hostile for the man with the blood red hair.  From one conspiracy to the next, he wondered how he managed to always find some sort of major political strife.  The Sanark war on goblins proved too intense and the only place that Kagemaru knew that was cool enough was another conveniently discovered continent of ice and dragons, dwarves and giants.

[Now forwards...]

Everfrost.  The cold wind bit at his nose and hands.  Even a Halasian of old would have had to cringe, but not Kagemaru.  Once you've been stranded and left for dead in the middle of the Great Divide, you learn to ignore such harsh cold.  They dropped him from great heights when they learned of his true intentions on the Peaks of Veeshan.  It didn't matter then and it doesn't matter now.  Mrylokar was avenged.

He sat, legs dangling off the docks in an uncharacteristic display of vulnerability and watched the ice flow past his feet.  Whatever happened to Halas, anyway...

[Back one more time...]

The moon.  The only place to hide from all of dragon kind. Except, of course, being who he was, he managed to find an intense conflict between the Seru and everyone else. These proved to be battles unlike he had ever been, and the only thing keeping him alive was an ability he learned from a special someone: the ability to literally hide in plain sight.  Deception so strong, he could stand face to face with someone, and they'd never know he was ever there.

Against the Shissar, it proved very useful.  Their calculating minds were susceptible to a misplaced number.  The Seru were fanatics and their minds proved easy to trick - be something they didn't believe.  Everyone else fell in line from there.  Except the subjects of Aten Ha Rah:  They proved to be of a different mold, poured from shadows so dark that no comparison will ever be found.  "Darker than Vex Thal" became the new hyperbole.

[Much forwarding, but not too much...]

Kagemaru stood alone on the road between the north and south gates of Qeynos.  He watched the sun set over the city, and the pieces of Luclin glow in the other parts of the sky.  A sight he hadn't seen for a very long time. If he would have been able to stay, he'd have managed a smile. But he couldn't return just yet,the city wasn't ready for him, and he doubted it would ever me.  She didn't want him anymore, nor have any use of him.

His mind journeyed back and forth between the two Norraths that he was a part of.  The one which accepted him, but used and abused him to tread water to stay above the head line of tearing itself apart, and the one that would gladly throw him overboard after he had helped it out of the ocean for whatever reasons it deemed slightly agreeable with.

He flipped the silk wrapped weapon over in his hand and he pondered.  Was this the cause of all his ill fate? Or was it always just a simple matter of one poor decision as a young man and a waterfall effect of bad timing afterwards?  It didn't matter now, did it? That old Norrath was dead to him just as he was dead to this new one.  The problem of the weapon was a simple enough matter to solve.  Hide it among those that would surely never use it.

Once last trip into his former home before another forced exile.  They'd never know he had been there unless he had wanted them to.

This other problem was a matter of... well, if he knew, then it wouldn't be that big of a problem, now would it.