Ride the Lightning

[Rugs]

Lightning seared the sky.

Rain came down in buckets--down in thick, fat drops that pinged against his armor and would've stung his open face if it weren't for the thin, ephemeral layer of Mythos that hovered around it. Thunder came booming from further up in the mountains to the east. They amplified it as it raced down through the passes and cliffs, and it positively roared as it made it to the city of Sednas.

Sednas was a coastal city, stretched out along in terraces on the cliffs that rose up from the sea. The western shore was hard and rocky, and Sednas had an old, solid look to it that suited the environment.

Kvothe stood at the top of the tallest terrace. He looked splendid in his white armor and gold cloak with the Star of the Mythics emblazoned in black on the back. The city stretched out before him, going for miles on to his left and right and even to his front. He'd arrived only a few moments ago and already he missed the warmth and dryness of his speeder. Sednas was prone to getting slammed by powerful storms that swept into Eostre from the sea. One such storm was starting to make landfall.

Just as he arrived.

"Wonderful."

A little--or a lot--of rain wouldn't hurt him, though, and he had work to do, storm or no. Bloody work. There was a lot of that to be done, lately. As the conflict with the Unum grew worse, Kvothe knew he'd only have more to do. "So be it," he muttered, starting into the city.

He was here on an assignment to deal with two Unum operatives that'd been discovered by the Tower's own spies. Husband and wife, if the dossier he'd been given was anything to go by. His official charge was to arrest them and bring them in to face their charges before a tribunal, but he knew they wouldn't come. They never did.

Worse, he still remembered the last time a trial in the Tower had gone wrong. We could have stopped him then, he thought, thinking of his brother's face on the day they'd fought in the family suite--the day Vorian had come close to running Kvothe through with his own staff. Could have stopped him before he caused all this trouble.

But they hadn't. Vorian had been freed before the trial could finish, and although he hadn't realized it at the time, Kvothe's faith in a 'fair trial' to see justice adequately dispensed had been severely shaken.

Lightning flared again. Thunder roared in answer.

He'd give them a chance. He always did. They would have a chance to surrender and come with him, but he knew they wouldn't. So they would fight. And he would kill them. It was as simple as that.

He still had a ways to go before he reached their house, though. The storm was only getting worse with each passing moment. Even through the night's darkness and the sheets of rain, he could see the sea in the distance, roiling furiously and slamming violently into the rocky shore.

Kvothe missed Fas by his side, but with as poor as the weather was, he was glad he'd left him behind, in the safety of the Tower. Away from the diving rain and howling wind, and away from the battle that was sure to unfold before too long.

A battle that he was determined to win, or so spoke the brilliant gold in his eyes as lightning split the sky.

[Talau the Ever-Lurking]

The spray of the sea and the rain that fell mingled in an almost lashing torrent as the sky flickered and crackled with lightning reminiscent of the storms he remembered on the Noreha plains. It made one feel absolutely alive, every heart beat pumping a new wave of fire and blood through his veins. Despite the weather and the fact that his clothes were drenched, his hair sticking to him, his cloak whipping around him, Rakesh felt at ease…comfortable in the miserable weather. He even enjoyed it.

The thunder that rolled and roared along the city, in tune with the roar of the ocean below, didn’t elicit much more than a smile from the tall man as he made his way along the streets full of people hurrying to get out of the storm or close up and protect their shops and homes. Still, he had work to do…and this was the perfect day to do it. There were a couple of Unum members that he’d happened across in his work that had crossed him in the worst of ways. Misinformation was one thing, but misinformation that nearly brought a trap meant for them down on his head? He wasn’t going to stand for that…and so they had to be dealt with.

He had already dispatched the two Mythics that he’d nearly been cornered by. That had been two days ago, and since then he’d hidden, keeping a low profile and allowing them to believe that he’d either died as well…or left. After all, as far as they knew he wasn’t a very good force user…trained, but barely. How could he survive an attack by two Mythics and live? Or if he had, certainly he would have to run and find a safe haven to recover from whatever they might have inflicted upon him. Chances were that they wouldn’t be expecting him when he arrived, and certainly wouldn’t be expecting what he was when he did.

Another flash of lightning illuminated the armor of scales, metal and chain below, slick with rain water and dark enough in color to be overlooked until then. No one seemed to notice in the turbulent winds and rain, a factor he’d been counting on when he’d decided that today would be the day to act. As he drew closer to the place he felt them at…the place he’d seen them return to several times over the past few days…he pulled out the flimsy note and a sharp dagger. It took little time or effort to attach the note to their door in that way, and by the time they opened the door all they would see around was the retreating form of his cloak. That is, that’s all they would see until he paused, his head to look back at them over his shoulder from under his hood.

The man, cautious but angry, at the letter (detailing how the mystery person was going to lead the mythics directly to them no matter where they tried to hide) started out after the man with his sword, his wife following swiftly with her own staff. Turning and walking off casually, Rakesh couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. They thought they were going to deal with him themselves did they? People were always so foolish when they started to lose their temper. Obviously he’d struck a nerve…good. As the feel of their minimal presences drew closer, he slipped around a corner and between two buildings settled close together. With speed from the Winds and some skill he bounded between the two walls and up onto the roof of one of the buildings. Pausing once more, he’d look down at them, face hidden by his hood, as another flash of lightning outlined his form…

…silently taunting them before vanishing out of their sight along the roof and onto another.

The two didn’t take long to appear both before, and behind, him in an attempt to narrow his options of retreat. The thing was, he wasn’t planning on going anywhere. He had them right where he wanted them…atop the slick rooftops, in the middle of a torrent of rain and wind, pitted against someone they knew nothing about. If he wasn’t one to expect others to outmatch him, he might have thought it was a sad state of affairs, what these two had walked themselves into. There was a problem for them, however, in the fact that he could still sense both of them en Sul (in the Winds). Either they weren’t taking this seriously, or they just weren’t very good at hiding their presence. Whichever the case, it was going to end poorly for them…starting with the woman.

Typically he didn’t enjoy harming women, but she had lost some of her rights when she’d allowed her male counterpart to send him into a waiting trap, and he also couldn’t allow her to interfere over much in his fight. That being said, he directed every ounce of mental ability he had to strike out and slam against her own, hoping to inflict as much pain and confusion as possible. The shout from behind told him he needed to know as he launched himself toward the man in front of him. His hood fell, then, allowing the rain to drench his head and forcing his opponent to waver for half a moment in surprise. Stone grey was etched with barely visible cracks of orange as Virlé sizzled to life in a bloody, steaming, streak of light that swept toward its target in a demonic looking arc.

While the moment of surprise that his face had elicited hadn’t earned him a death-blow, it had put him on the offense and had set the man stumbling backward as saber and sword clashed. The thing must have been imbued with the Winds, not that he was entirely surprised, but it meant things were going to take a bit longer. That was fine. What wasn’t fine was the invisible grip he could feel pressing in on his ribs from outside of his armor as the two locked weapons. With the motion of a finger the crimson blade vanished and he leaned swiftly out of the way of the sword that no longer had anything to push against. It had surprised the man enough that his concentration had vanished, leaving Rakesh feeling a little more compact temporarily, but hardly damaged in any way.

That single event caused the man to overcompensate, loosing footing on the slick tiles of the roof and allowing a more prepared Rakesh to take advantage of the opening. The hand curled around his saber hilt tightened and struck upward, slamming against the jaw of his opponent, dazing him and allowing that bloody blade to sizzle alive once more as that arm retracted again, slicing along the junction of neck and shoulder cleanly. Its heat seared easily diagonally downward through the man. If he was alive, which the Rilan highly doubted, he wasn’t going to be of any help to his wife…lover…partner…whatever the woman was to him.

Speaking of the wench…he turned just soon enough to feel the slamming of her bladed staff against his side. He was very lucky he’d decided to wear his armor “just in case,” or he’d have had a nasty injury. As it was he’d have some bruising, but nothing horribly damaging. In a moment of reaction, he pinned the pole-arm to his side with one arm as his footing slipped on the slick roof. If he was surprised by his short slip, she was doubly so when she slid with him…even despite her attempt to keep control. As their collective surprise subsided he twisted, wrenching his torso around to keep her from thinking too much about trying any tricks that he couldn’t easily combat.

With a heavier build and stronger musculature, he managed to use her weapon against her, using it as a way to control her and get her to slide further on the tiles because of her unwillingness to let it go from her grip. He could feel her furious anger and pain at the man’s death, and it was making her reckless in her actions it seemed. After a second of regaining her footing, she seemed to think it was wise to use her staff as a lightning rod of her own…it was a good idea, except for the rain. The moment he caught a hint of her actions he let go, and allowed her to reap the full consequences of electricity, metal and water that she’d allowed to happen.

She dropped that staff quite swiftly after that…

…Which meant he moved in swiftly through the stinging rain, managing to catch hold of her, and forced her backward toward the edge of the roof (and the edge of the terrace behind it, just in case she decided to try and get smart with him), his mind already locked in a struggle with hers to gain entry…

[Rugs]

Lightning flared. Thunder crashed.

The storm's only getting worse. Raindrops, fat and heavy, fell harder. The wind howled like a thing possessed as it tore through the city's alleys and terraces. The storm's outer bands were passing, moving deeper inland; soon the whole of the storm itself would crash into the shoreline.

Kvothe knew he didn't have much time.

There was a saying the people on Eostre's western shore had: 'A man who lingers in the storm is a man who seeks the gods.'

Kvothe wasn't keen on seeing any gods today; not while Vorian yet lived.

He moved down, terrace by terrace, to the district the couple resided in. They lived just below the mid level in the city; that meant they--or the people they pretended to be--lived only on modest means; the city's wealthy residents lived further up, safely away from the wrath of the sea that came rushing in with every storm.

Kvothe stopped as he reached a broad causeway cut through the side of one terrace. Lightning seared through the dark skies above, whitewashing everything around him. His white armor seemed to glow for half an instant, as the wind whipped his oiled cloak wildly around him.

In that moment, he felt something at the edge of his perception, felt a life struggling to hang on somewhere in the dark. It was further on toward where he was heading. His brow furrowed as he wondered for a moment, but he moved on, using his staff to help his balance against the roaring wind.

Another instant passed, and Kvothe felt it again: a struggle in the Mythos. Something was going on.

He picked up his pace.

The Rilan reached the couple's residence in short order, only to find that the door was open, spilling light out into the street. He paused, one brow raised questioningly as he considered the possibilities. Had they known he was coming and hastily fled? Did the wind blow their door open? Was something else afoot?

Kvothe's brow knit itself further as another bolt of lightning branched overhead. Thunder boomed immediately, so loud that his ears rang. The lights inside their house flickered as the power threatened to fail.

Reluctantly, he dropped the thin shielding of the Mythos that he'd kept up to protect himself from the driving rain as he approached the house. The rain stung his exposed face, but he ignored it, focused on the matter at hand as he stretched his senses out to feel around him.

Not in the house... He paused, staff held warily and looked up, peering into the darkness. On the roof. They're on the roof.

Something hit the ground with a heavy thud behind him.

Kvothe spun deftly, cloak flaring behind him as he brought Pietas around and down toward the shape, blade hanging centimeters away from it. Or... them. It was a body. Kvothe frowned and glanced around him to be sure he was alone on the street. A wave of his hand pushed softly-glowing shield of Mythos into being around, protecting from the rain and possible attack as he crouched down to investigate the body.

"It's you... What happened to you?" he muttered. The body was one of the people he was here to find. It was the man, but his eyes were glazed over. His neck... Kvothe shook his head.

Someone had gotten to him before Kvothe could arrive, but the damage wasn't indicative of a blade, or blaster. The flesh was seared through and cauterized. A lightsaber? But who with a lightsaber would be after this man?

"It explains the open door," Kvothe muttered softly while he pressed a gloved hand to the fellow's chest and felt through the Mythos for signs of life. To his surprise, the man was still alive, but so weakly so that he might as well have been dead.

The shield around them dissipated as Kvothe stood. He lifted Pietas and brought the thin, single-bladed end down on the man's chest to put him out of his misery. It was a mercy, but a small one. Better to kill him by his own hand than leave anything to chance.

The prospect of another being interfering with his work was trouble; he hadn't been told that another Sword was out on the job, and though there were a few Mythics with lightsabers, the presence of such a weapon meant it wasn't very likely to be one of his own.

So who is it? he pondered as he glanced up toward the roof, where he could still feel someone struggling. A friend, or a foe?

There was only one way to find out.

Kvothe drew the Mythos into his being and leapt up, grabbing the edge of the roof with a hand and hoisting himself up the rest of the way. Lightning illuminated the scene before him as he pulled Pietas up after him.

On the roof's far edge, and near the edge of the terrace itself, he saw two figures. One was the woman he'd come to deal with. The other was a large cloaked figure. Their back was turned to Kvothe, and he couldn't make out who it was, but something about the person felt familiar to him...

"Hold!" Kvothe shouted over the noise of storm. "Who are you?" He approached them warily, unaware of the hidden eyes that were watching from the shadows. "Let her go. I'm here to deal with her myself, on business of the Tower."

[Talau the Ever-Lurking]

The woman struggled vainly against his grasp (physical and mental), but it did her little good. He was finding all of the information he required and even some that he didn’t know he wanted. That wasn’t the only thing that caught his attention, however. Even for as absorbed as he was in his task he wasn’t so far gone as to completely miss the feeling of someone else approaching. Of course, he was buried deeply enough in the information he was receiving to not fully realize that the other presence he had noticed was not only vaguely familiar, but also a user of the Winds. This would be the problem, in the end, when Kvothe finally arrived on the scene.

It wasn’t until just before the younger man lept up onto the roof that Rakesh realized his near-fatal mistake. He had no more time to play with this woman. One hand deftly flipped his hood up again to shadow his face as his other closed more tightly around her throat as his mind worked swiftly to skew any memory she had of his actual appearance. Even if the man, now on the roof with them, or his comrades managed to untangle the truth from the lie it would be entirely too late to do anything…that, of course, was only if they managed to do so.

“Hold! Who are you?”

It was a damn good thing that he was used to consistently compacting his presence down to something negligible. It wasn’t yet time for that Algaterra brat to know who and what he was…not yet. As the younger man demanded that he put the woman in his grip down, Rakesh would grip her clothing with his other hand and twist, keeping his head down so his hood covered any visibility of his face as he all but tossed the woman toward the auburn. Trusting that, if Kvothe really did have business with the woman, he would move to catch her, the exiled Morequai would twist away and leap off the roof, dropping to the ground below…just barely missing going off the edge of this part of the terraced city.

Pushing himself up easily, the pool of his dark cloak lifted and followed him as he darted off into the shadows of the other buildings around. He knew, could feel, that somewhere around a trap was waiting to close…that there were others waiting with malicious intent…somewhere…and he didn’t want to be caught in it if he could help it.

[Rugs]

The shadowed figure moved. Kvothe squinted, trying to make out who they were, but the rain was thick and light was dim up here on the roof. The phantom remained as such.

Suddenly the person, whoever they were made their move and nearly threw the woman at Kvothe. Kvothe reacted, lifting a hand and gently catching her in bands of the Mythos. She slowed in his grasp and slumped down softly onto the rain-slick rooftop.

But the mystery man, using the chance for a distraction, had already made his escape.

Kvothe swore softly in Aiaru's native tongue and looked around, peering through the rain to be sure he was alone. He couldn't see much in such poor condition naturally, but his senses were quiet. Though, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss...

That man on the street, and now this woman and whoever that was... It didn't sit well with him--especially since the phantom's presence had faded away from him.

He crouched warily, staff still in hand, to inspect the woman lying on the ground. She looked like she'd been in a struggle, perhaps with the man that'd just vanished into the shadows from this roof. Her throat was red where a hand had gripped it.

Kvothe tugged on her collar, checking her lower neck for further signs of trouble. As the soft fabric pulled away, it revealed a tattoo. A circle, made of three parts that were individually comprised of smaller interlocking parts, with a ring that was broken into thirds stretching around it.

It was the Unum's symbol.

Kvothe's grip tightened on his staff.

"Who are-"

A warning in the Mythos flared. He heard the sound of a boot on the roof behind him. Kvothe turned, the power of the Mythos flooding through him. He saw a shadow coming at him. The night was too dark and the rain too thick for Kvothe to make out the details of the figure beyond the shape of a body in a cloak.

And the glint of a blade flashing toward him in the darkness.

A blue shield flared to life before him. The dagger bounced harmlessly away with no more than a flicker of light where it impacted the protective energy to show for it.

Kvothe heard his assaialant growl, but he was already acting. The barrier flashed away and his staff swept out low, jerking the shadow's legs out from under them. His hand came forward, the air in front of him solidifying, and a solid push sent the would-be assassin flying over the edge of the roof back toward the street.

Where they would, no doubt, have a very unpleasant landing.

[Talau the Ever-Lurking]

I don’t remember where I should be going with this sooo…this should be interesting xD

---

Pausing as the sound of pursuit was not heard, Rakesh took a moment in the shadows of a building to sort through the information he had just gained. Much of it had been a jumbled mess since he’d really had no time to ‘sort’ through all of it as he’d been gaining it. Certainly he’d caught glimpses of useful information through the tumult, but at the time it had made little logical sense. Now, as he sorted through it, he began putting the puzzle pieces together. Some information was less useful than he’d thought at first, while other information was several more times useful than his original guess. It also told him that the trap he felt so clearly wound up around the area was not intended for him.

Normally he would be pleased, but this time…this time it only made him angry.

The whelp was his to deal with!

His to torment and then kill as he saw fit!

No one else would have that right, nor that pleasure…he would see to it.

Slipping back out into the downpour he flickered from one shadow to the next, his cloak snapping behind him as he moved. They weren’t terribly difficult to see, most of them, their auras standing out even in the darkness and rain…even for as darkly colored as many of them were. Easy targets for a Rilan who knew what they were doing from years of assassinations. As a body flew from off of the building he’d previously been atop and landed hard on the street, skidding and bouncing a bit, he used the distraction to his advantage, slipping into better cover and slinking around one of the buildings to come behind a pair of the would-be assailants.

Two of the others broke from their cover and he slammed his mind into theirs, putting them on alert as well as startling them and slowing them enough to give the whelp a chance to get the drop on them. Coming around the corner behind his two intended targets he moved quietly, his presence pulled into himself fully as their death came creeping up behind them on feet silent as a cat’s. They wouldn’t know what hit them until it did. What ‘it’ was, however, happened to be something fairly uncommon on Aiaru…a crimson blade that sizzled and hissed and steamed in the downpour. Like butter it sliced through the neck of one, the other turning in shock just in time for that same bloody colored saber to burn an extra hole through his head.

Everyone knew that he was there now to be sure…it was, at the very least, difficult to miss the hellish play of crimson light and deep shadows that had filled the alley for the few seconds it took for him to kill his targets. He wasn’t, however, going to continue to broadcast his presence. In the blink of an eye the area was bathed completely in shadow once more and he made his way back out of the alley swiftly.

[Rugs]

The span of a heartbeat passed in the darkness. Then a thud sounded out from below, and Kvothe knew his would-be-assailant had landed on the street below. And with that fall, it'll be a moment before they can make it back up.

Lightning flashed again, reaching down to a rod near the city's heart. Kvothe's roof became bathed for the twinkling of an eye in a searing light. He threw an arm up to shield himself against the glow, but by the time reflexes kicked in, the flash had already come and gone.

Thunder slammed immediately into him, roaring like an angry beast come to take the city and drag it away into the sea.

Through the sound and light, Kvothe felt another presence blossom below him. The Mythos contorted with the strain of death and a struggle, and he heard something that he swore sounded like a lightsaber over the pounding rain. He walked to the edge of the roof and peered to see what was going on below.

A pair of bodies was strewn out in the darkness, limp and lifeless. Who or what had killed them was nowhere to be seen though.

Perhaps it was the first shadow? The one that had been chasing his quarry in the first place?

Something's definitely afoot, the Rilan mused, moving away from the ledge and turning back to the woman he'd come to the city to find. She was still on the roof, laying where he'd dropped her. Better get her off here and inside. He paused to glance around. Nothing to see but curtains of rain and roiling clouds above. For her sake and mine.

He reached her and crouched down, briefly checking to see that she hadn't been hurt since he last inspected her. But all the while his mind was on what had just happened. A mysterious person here before him, an assassin that tried to shove a blade between his ribs, bodies in the streets below. Something was going on, and he didn't know what. That displeased him. Greatly.

The most troubling thing was that the presence that had bloomed and vanished again felt familiar, and he couldn't yet put a finger on how.

"It's never simple with you filthy lot, is it," he growled at the woman as he stood up, hoisting her up before him and holding her tightly in bands of the Mythos.

"Things are never simple, my young Mythic."

Kvothe whirled on his heel, Talio singing as he drew it from its sheath. The woman spun around in the air before him, his hold still tight on her. His eyes flooded with warning orange as he saw a darkened figure standing on a roof near him.

"So quick to draw your blade," the figure commented, "no different than the stories your brother tells of you." The person, whoever they were, was a man, and one with a voice that sounded older than Kvothe was. A presence eased out of him, thick and dangerous, the Mythos heavy on him. "But I should not be so surprised, for someone who longs for... simplicity, such as you do."

"Who are you?" Kvothe asked, voice hard. "Unum. You know Vorian." His eyes narrowed through the darkness. "Are you working for him?"

"Simple questions," the figure asked, strolling casually toward Kvothe in the dark, seemingly without a care for the wind and driving rain. "Simple questions for a simple man with a simple mind. You seek identity, but my identity will not serve you so well as my purpose." The man stopped and chuckled as Kvothe brandished Talio threateningly. "And of course, everything among us must be in relation to your brother. Has he, young Algaterra, become the measure of all things for your life? A simple tool for a simple man...?"

"Stop it," Kvothe growled, drawing the woman closer to him. Talio's edge tip came to rest dangerously against her back, and he held her still with hand on shoulder. "I swear I-"

The man laughed. "You'll what? Kill her?" He laughed again. "Foolish, simple child. She was a pawn. Bait. To pull you out of your precious Tower. Do you think we believed for a moment that you wouldn't catch her?

"But aaaaaah," the man went on, lifting a hand slightly, "her mind has been invaded. It would seem the youngest Algaterra is incapable of even being the first to find his own prey, so kindly set out for him. But we hadn't planned for there to be another one with you. Tell me, was it your plan for your friend to beat you to her, or did that catch you off guard as well?" The storm's darkness and the shadows of a hood kept the features of the man's face hidden from Kvothe, but he could hear the sneer in his voice. Sardonic. Biting. "Don't worry, child, we're already looking for your friend. I'm sure he will be thrilled when he's found."

"But no, dear Sword, this woman... I do not think she's of much use to anyone here now, is she?" Kvothe saw a hand moving in the folds of his robe, heard the woman groan and struggle as the Mythos closed like a vice around her throat. "No, in fact, death may be a more fitting fate for her, don't you agree? Let us not pretend you wouldn't have sent her to it, had you actually managed to reach her." The woman's neck snapped suddenly. Her body went rigid, then limp against Kvothe's hold in the Mythos.

He let her slump down to the ground with a frustrated sigh as lightning crackled overhead.

"Your face speaks of disgust." The hooded head titled slightly as thunder rolled under them, curious for Kvothe's apparent dismay at the death of its victim. "Why? Is this not what you do, Sword? Have you not made it your life mission to eradicate us all? So blinded by your hate that you cannot even see the sins you yourself commit in its wake?"

Kvothe growled, deciding he'd had enough of the taunts and insults and lecturing. "Alright, if y-"

"Be silent, child. I am not done speaking to you." the man commanded, a wall of the Mythos slamming out of nowhere into Kvothe. It caught him off guard, knocked him back near the edge of the roof, nearly loosing Talio as he clutched to his staff and the rain-slick surface beneath him.

"But no, no, why should I speak to you now? You are a stubborn soul. You will not listen." The man tilted his head again, this time to the other side, and sounded resigned. "Go along child." He gave a dismissive wave, tossing Kvothe from the roof with another push of the Mythos. Talio spun from the Rilan's hand at the impact and landed on the roof, standing straight up, tip stuck into the tile.

"Your sins await you below," Kvothe heard as he fell to the ground. He landed with a thud, his breath coming out of him at once with a grunt. Another figure moved toward him in the dark, metal glinting threateningly.

"Let us see how you handle them."

[Talau the Ever-Lurking]

Soooo....I'm a little confused on how many are left. Only two I think? the one after Kvothe on the ground and the guy on the roof? Also, idk why, but this just was perfect museic for Kesh here: www.youtube.com/watch?v=O6ffmunRjjI

---

He had been about to leave....his shadow (had there been light to leave one) already passing down one of the streets and away from the scene swiftly. Of course, that was also before he felt the new, and truly sinister, presence behind him. Pausing, he turned to look back up at the roof. The lightning that pierced the sky showed the outlines of two figures, one the whelp and the other he didn't recognize...but if he could feel the presence, and the abilities...of the other from here, that did not bode well for the hot headed pup. Growling, he stalked back in the direction of the fight, tendrils of his presence threatening to escape his hold on them in his anger.

Those cracks of orange marring the steady grey of his eyes had grown larger the longer this altercation had drawn on. Armor heavy with water glistened as he pushed his cloak back over his shoulders. The time for stealth was almost past, and as he saw the little Algaterra whelp fall from the roof, the echos of the action that caused it rebounding all around through the Winds, he searched for his way up to the roof tops. Of course, his priority was the pup...stupid as he was, he wasn't even moving yet from his fall, letting some other shadow slink toward him. With a shout to gain attention, the furious morequai slammed his consciousness against the pup's would-be attacker, wielding it more like a club than an epee, only seeking to stun the man rather than outright harm him...not that it wouldn't hurt.

"Get up, Algaterra. Fight."

That was no suggestion...that was an order.

The twin blades, a duality of sanguine crimson from Virlé and golden sunlight from Añar, sizzled and steamed to life in his hands as he stalked closer. The appearance of them must have at least made the man on the ground think twice for a split second as he hesitated before starting after the new threat...foolishly. Lightning flashed, showing the rain-slick scales and metal of his armor before he seemingly vanished in the darkness that followed.

[Rugs]

Just a few. Might be another mook or two hidden around as need calls for, but there aren’t tons of them. But it was an ambush (IIRC, it’s been a while >.>) so yea, probably some that haven’t revealed themselves juuuuust yet. Enough for antagonist guy to proselytize a bit more before he withdraws until another day :3

---

Kvothe quietly thanked the Mythos that he wore his light armor, rather than his normal, heavier set. Though the ground was wet, it was slick cobblestone, hard and unyielding. A few of the stone directly beneath him cracked subtly from the weight and force of his fall, but none gave to allow him any comfort. His head smacked loosely against against the rock, and he felt consciousness threaten to fade as stars danced in and out of the rain-soaked sky.

But Kvothe Algaterra was nothing, if not stubborn and willful. He beckoned toward the Mythos and it answered, filling him with sweet, sweet life.

“Get up, Algaterra. Fight.”

He heard the voice as a blade flashed in the night and thought for a moment that he was beginning to hallucinate. It was not the Mythos that spoke to him, though, but Rakesh. Here? Kvothe lurched to his feet, using Pietas to steady himself as he rose. He wanted to ask Rakesh what he was doing here, but there wasn’t time for that.

Rakesh, seemed to be heading off one of Kvothe’s would-be ambushers, and the Rilan quietly thanked the winds for that, though he wondered why the man had lightsabers, of all things.

“Questions abound,” he muttered to himself as he threw a hand back and straightened his cloak, which had tangled around itself during his fall.

He looked up as another bolt of lightning cracked the sky. Talio was gone from where it fell, blade down near the edge of the roof. Instead, the shadowed man had it. He held it before his hooded face, as if examining an artifact of some sort. A brief dart of lightning along the eastern sky as thunder rumbled illuminated the figure enough for Kvothe to see a bony hand gripping his weapon’s hilt.

“Ah, the sword rises! And with murder in his eyes, no doubt,” he crowed, surely feeling the fury that burned through Kvothe at the sight of his weapon in filth Unum hand. Red lines weaved through his eyes. “But what good,” the man continued, thunder booming overhead, “is a Sword without his sword? What justice can you dispense without your blade, Algaterra?”

Another attacker leapt from the Shadows. Kvothe was more ready for this one than the last, and all the worse for them as he turned his pent-up anger loose. The Mythos burst from him in the direction of the attacker — a woman, from the startled yell she gave as her forward momentum suddenly reversed. She crashed into the shadows with the undignified clatter of a garbage bin tipping over, and Kvothe refocused his attention wholly on the man on the roof.

“That isn’t yours,” he spat, kunckles whitening against Pietas’ smooth wooden shaft.

“A stunning observation,” the man replied dryly, stepping away from the edge. “Come Sword. Come take your toy.”

[Talau the Ever-Lurking]

The being he was after was little more than a beast to him, some prey to be hunted down like an animal.

Slaughtered.

With a hunter’s determination and calm focus, Rakesh jabbed at the being with his mind, making the cretin focus on delaying the mental attacks as he slowly backed it into a corner. Cornered animals were dangerous, yes, but the Rilan man wasn’t afraid of dangerous animals. After all, it took one to understand one…and he understood. The question was: just how much fight did this one have in it? As the creature finally realized it was being backed into a position it wouldn’t like, it lunged at him with the speed of a striking snake…and about as much thought as a rock.

The blond man coiled and twisted out of the way of the bull-headed rush in his direction, crimson saber sweeping out to burn through the ribs of the idiotic creature before it could turn to counter the blow. The golden light of Anar flickered to life once more as it too struck out just as the wounded animal lunged to attack with the sword in its hands. Virle lifted to block the blow, earning a derisive snort from the man wielding it, the unexpected golden blade removing the forearm from its attached elbow with a flick of his wrist and a deadly sizzle making the creature yowl in pain and reel backward away from him, slipping and falling on the slick stone.

Pathetic.

He’d hoped for more of a challenge but the initial hesitation of the being had sealed its doom early on. As Rakesh paced forward toward the being trying to skitter away from him on its remaining limbs, he was swift to boot it in the rear and send in sprawling. It flipped itself over, something in the Winds warning him of further danger only a moment before something heavy slammed against the back of his armor making him have to brace himself to keep from staggering with the force of it. That had hurt, and while he doubted there was any damage done to him more than a little bump it was the thought that counted. With a growl he would glance back to see just what it was that had struck him. A trash barrel…lovely.

The woman that Kvothe had sent flying backward had, seemingly, decided to send the current object of her ire flying away from her, trying to provide a distraction for her companion. With a deadly glare, he ripped at the weakened creature’s mind with little care as to what, exactly, he was damaging. He didn’t even bother with the (now drooling) man on the ground as he turned to stalk after the woman like an angry predator. As she appeared from the shadows once more, he was forced to dodge the various items she seemed to enjoy tossing at him, his form blurring and returning to normal time and again as he worked his way toward her. As he got near enough to her to be a full threat, she did (perhaps) the wisest thing she could have done and pulled the tiles from the roof down at him, causing a cascade effect of them that forced him to protect himself, for once in this whole fight.

Virle’s sanguine blade vanished as his right arm lifted, a shimmering blue energy forming in an almost shield-like form just above the arm as he braced himself against the deluge of tiles.

[Rugs]

Kvothe glared, and if looks could kill, the old hooded man atop the roof might have disintegrated to dust in the depths of his black robes. But strong as the Mythic was, such power escaped him and the man glided back from the edge of the roof, goading Kvothe onward.

You have to remain calm, a quiet voice said in the back of his mind, almost unheard against the constant, pounding wind and rain the reverberations of Kvothe’s fury. Stay steadfast against his teasings.

If only the voice had spoken earlier.

The Rilan took to the air with a yell, Mythos pushing his jump high enough to crest the roof and land atop it, staff held out threateningly. “Give me that sword,” Kvothe demanded through gritted teeth. Anger sharply punctuated his every word, keeping them short and staccato.

“Oh, poor angry Mythic,” the hooded man cooed, waving the sword lazily around in front of him. “I haven’t said you can’t have it back. I only told you to come and take it.” He turned his hooded face to Kvothe as lightning lit the cityscape behind him. “You take lives as easily as a drunk takes wine, regardless of their innocence, Algaterra. Whether they’re warriors on the battlefields…” the figure moved closer, his posture hunched as his words turned poisonously sweet, “or helpless girls, already caged away in your sacred Tower.”

Kvote darted forward with an angry cry. The man lurched out of the way so quickly the Mythic nearly tripped over himself trying to find purchase on the rain-wet tile roof. The hooded man licked a lazy swipe at Kvothe’s arm before darting back, further up the roof. With the blow, blocked, Kvothe loosed a blast of wind that left water droplets lifted from the tile hanging in a momentary haze.

The shadow dealt with this easily, splitting the thrust of Kvothe’s attack around him like a river around stone. Kvothe growled, mouth contorting to an angry sneer, when something seemed to grab him from behind.

He shrugged against this, cloak flaring as he whipped around, Pietas ready to strike whoever was trying to attack him from behind. But there was nothing to see, beyond the steady rain and raging ocean waves.

Another invisble hand grabbed him, then another, latching onto his shoulders and forcing him down. Kvothe resisted this until more pressure came, so strong and so abrupt that he crashed to the roof with a yell as tile crunched beneath his armor.

“So easily handled,” the shadow muttered, tossing the sword aside like a discarded toy. He approached Kvothe, who was struggling to move against the invisible bonds of the Mythos that held him against the wet, broken tile.

Another bolt of lightning across the sky seared Kvothe’s vision as thunder rumbled loudly overhead. His struggles proved fruitless, even as increasing pressure on his ribcage made it more difficult to breathe.

“It is an unfortunate thing, feeling helpless, isn’t it?” the shadow asked. He now stood directly over Kvothe with long, loose sleeves folded together. “If I were a kinder man, I’d stab you in the side, just as you stabbed the girl…”

“Let me go,” Kvothe spat in a rage. Specks of black dotted his irises. “Quit acting like a coward and fight me!”

“Ah, but I am not a fighter, Algaterra,” the figure said. “Why face you on your turf, when I can face you quite comfortably on my own? But you needn’t worry…” He crouched down, a bony hand emerging from his dark sleeve. “I am not here to kill you. Not today. Eventually, your sins will have their reckoning, but first, they need only remind you…”

A bony finger pressed against Kvothe’s forehead and suddenly he felt as though countless drills were digging into his mind. The old fear returned, as a vivid yellow replaced the red and black in his eyes.

As the shadow dug into his mind, Kvothe’s scream echoed across the night…