Setting
*Under Construction.*
Western Guild Ward
The Western Guild Ward belongs to the Achaz; their headquarters and the locations of their affiliated guilds - like the Eylmas Order - are also located here. To enter without invitation would be suicide...
Minimap
northwest |
north |
northeast |
west |
You are here. |
east |
southwest |
south |
southeast |
Western Guild Ward is a part of 
Daggerford.
3 Characters Here
Nefarious [2] A prized assassin of the Achaz Guild; lethal, cold, and loyal only to the pasha Rakkath.
Rheya Ashdown [1] The woman of many faces. Turns into whatever she needs to be, whenever she needs to and is quite deadly with a bow.
Umbra [1] The Shadow Walker of Achaz. "Know this, my unworthy adversary, that my heart has been blotted by the touch of cruel malice. Thus, I know not of mercy nor regret. Run, or die. It is your choice."
Start Character Here »
In accordance to the nature of her profession, Nefarious was a creature of the night. The velvety darkness suited her far more than the transparency of light, but there were times, such as the present, when she became suspicious of the wisdom in operating during such hours. The entertainment, for example, suddenly took a turn for the worse as midnight approached, and there was certainly much left to be desired as far as the menu was concerned.
The potential to earn some money, however, more than made up for those deficiencies; the demons of the night were far wealthier than the devils of the day. The real coins flowed through the veins of the city only when darkness fell, and copious amounts were quick to change hands as the Achaz came to life. Lives were extinguished and fortunes were composed with none the wiser until the deeds were performed, but even then only the victims could be identified, never the perpetrators.
That didn't stop some from trying, though. It was a long standing tradition for the juveniles of the Western District to flock together after a particularly juicy kill was discovered, and try to figure out who had committed the crime. Navigating the maze of alleys in the area was difficult enough for the natives, but finding a space large enough to conduct such conclaves was a much harder feat. There were only two, maybe three, places to gather in the Achaz territory without resorting to the Tavern district, so when Nefarious decided to engage her curiosity regarding the recent demise of Magistrate Anders, a crooked man who had once determined the bounty prices on the heads of well known criminals, she had a pretty good idea of where to go.
"... so my money's on Jaffar," Cleon was saying decisively, having come to a conclusion after much debate with the men seated on the broken pillars around him. The old temple had been abandoned for centuries, and neglect had long since reduced the beautiful architecture to piles of stone rubble that currently served as furniture for 'Guess-the-Assasin' discussions like the one Cleon was hosting. "Some'un who saw th' corpse before it was a'taken swore they seen a needle technique, an' we all know Jaffar hates gettin' his digits bloody with otha' means. All o'Ander's fancy robes were stripped, too, and yesserday Jaffar cashed in some good loot."
"Naw," Lerrick scoffed, biting into the stale piece of bread he clutched tightly in his fist. "Jaffar ain't got no aim t'be piercin' Anders' juggular from twenny feet away--cause if y'think abouttit, he had t'be at least that far t'get a good sight o'Anders in the bathin' pools... I'm thinkin' the Carver got this 'un."
"The Carver's been cheatin' lately, an' besides, ya don' even know where he is! Ah heard from Korren that the Pasha's lackey's been..."
Nefarious pulled away from the shadowed nook she'd been tucked into, hardly disturbing the still hair as she slipped into the maze of alleys unnoticed. The group of men behind her were none the wiser about her eavesdropping as they moved on to the latest rumors regarding the Pasha's network of interests. She'd only been interested in who they thought had assassinated the former Magistrate, but so far none of them were even close to figuring it out. It hadn't been her... and normally she didn't care about the activities of her fellow guild members, but this assignment had caught her interest for personal reasons and she intended to pay close attention to any details that might surface.
The potential to earn some money, however, more than made up for those deficiencies; the demons of the night were far wealthier than the devils of the day. The real coins flowed through the veins of the city only when darkness fell, and copious amounts were quick to change hands as the Achaz came to life. Lives were extinguished and fortunes were composed with none the wiser until the deeds were performed, but even then only the victims could be identified, never the perpetrators.
That didn't stop some from trying, though. It was a long standing tradition for the juveniles of the Western District to flock together after a particularly juicy kill was discovered, and try to figure out who had committed the crime. Navigating the maze of alleys in the area was difficult enough for the natives, but finding a space large enough to conduct such conclaves was a much harder feat. There were only two, maybe three, places to gather in the Achaz territory without resorting to the Tavern district, so when Nefarious decided to engage her curiosity regarding the recent demise of Magistrate Anders, a crooked man who had once determined the bounty prices on the heads of well known criminals, she had a pretty good idea of where to go.
"... so my money's on Jaffar," Cleon was saying decisively, having come to a conclusion after much debate with the men seated on the broken pillars around him. The old temple had been abandoned for centuries, and neglect had long since reduced the beautiful architecture to piles of stone rubble that currently served as furniture for 'Guess-the-Assasin' discussions like the one Cleon was hosting. "Some'un who saw th' corpse before it was a'taken swore they seen a needle technique, an' we all know Jaffar hates gettin' his digits bloody with otha' means. All o'Ander's fancy robes were stripped, too, and yesserday Jaffar cashed in some good loot."
"Naw," Lerrick scoffed, biting into the stale piece of bread he clutched tightly in his fist. "Jaffar ain't got no aim t'be piercin' Anders' juggular from twenny feet away--cause if y'think abouttit, he had t'be at least that far t'get a good sight o'Anders in the bathin' pools... I'm thinkin' the Carver got this 'un."
"The Carver's been cheatin' lately, an' besides, ya don' even know where he is! Ah heard from Korren that the Pasha's lackey's been..."
Nefarious pulled away from the shadowed nook she'd been tucked into, hardly disturbing the still hair as she slipped into the maze of alleys unnoticed. The group of men behind her were none the wiser about her eavesdropping as they moved on to the latest rumors regarding the Pasha's network of interests. She'd only been interested in who they thought had assassinated the former Magistrate, but so far none of them were even close to figuring it out. It hadn't been her... and normally she didn't care about the activities of her fellow guild members, but this assignment had caught her interest for personal reasons and she intended to pay close attention to any details that might surface.
Like Nefarious, this woman swallowed in black leather and dark mithril also preferred the nocturnal hours. Her monikers did not come to be tongued for her daylight cameo appearances. Even within the bright all-seeing eyes of the day, were there pockets riddled with shallow black shades. Those places would be deeply embedded in the plethora of alleyways that made up the network in which the assassins often used if they must orchestrate their skill sets in the day. It was not often, but one would never know when their next coin would come lulling their blades with hunger.
The thick cloth that adorned her was light, as was her meager armor; blades tucked within sheaths, or hanging from a crossed belt at the slopes of her waist. Nothing short of her eyes would find the vision of others, even her own guild members in the Achaz. Her ears did not cater to rumors, thus all spoken and drifting ill through the city with no truth, was not given the honor of her attention. The common populace was hardly in a position to sing the tales of their dastardly deeds. Most never laid eyes on a thing, and if they did.... well, the gods best be on their side. Then again, none would really believe anything said, regardless of it being fact or fiction. The tales spun around the guilds of assassins were ugly, and monstrous - as if no purpose would be had.
She often asked herself the same thing. What was the purpose?
Fleeting feet skimmed through the alley ways, rooftops, and every once in a while when none were looking, she would dip into the street unwatched. At most, anyone of the citizens of Daggerford would only be met with the dash of cardinal cloth before she was again emerged in the belly of shadows. Nefarious was no longer at such a distance from the Shadow Walker. It was not that she was being tailed for violence, but out of curiosity instead. There may be no fruit in wandering close to the woman's own quiet steps, but Umbra had fallen under a spell of boredom recently. Swift deeds were just that - swift and vapid with its ease. There was a reason that the Achaz was the best, and she had complete faith that they would never be dominated by Sethur's Hand, or anyone else for that matter.
In words plagued in mystery, she spoke as she closed in on Nefarious' space, "Out in the daylight hours? How strange." It sounded like a personal musing, but it was nonetheless directed toward the woman who seemed to be hasty with her direction. She descended a minuscule height from a rooftop, then allowed the slender length of her back to idle against the hard surface of a wall. The Shadow Walker was built differently from most females; meager feminine curves, and robust musculature. She enjoyed the use of things that required true physical power to be honed, like heavy hammers and bulky maces. She believed in the power of pure strength, and that a blade could always be disarmed from a worthy opponent. So, without relying always on the use of argentine, if you pit her up against a man with nothing but her body, she could easily crush him. There was much merit in such abilities, even if that meant she had to take away from her womanly appearance. She was completely shrouded when she went out, so it was not like any of that mattered anyway.
Even through the mithril shield hiding her face, her words were strong and drifting. There was not conversation expected from Nefarious, as she could be described as keeping to herself, but there was no harm in making the attempt. If anything, she may use the help on whatever she was tasked to do. If anything at all. However, this did not seem like some careless stroll through Daggerford's treacherous veins. There had to be some reason. It was none of her business, and Umbra would not inquire as to what motivation set her feet to animation.
The thick cloth that adorned her was light, as was her meager armor; blades tucked within sheaths, or hanging from a crossed belt at the slopes of her waist. Nothing short of her eyes would find the vision of others, even her own guild members in the Achaz. Her ears did not cater to rumors, thus all spoken and drifting ill through the city with no truth, was not given the honor of her attention. The common populace was hardly in a position to sing the tales of their dastardly deeds. Most never laid eyes on a thing, and if they did.... well, the gods best be on their side. Then again, none would really believe anything said, regardless of it being fact or fiction. The tales spun around the guilds of assassins were ugly, and monstrous - as if no purpose would be had.
She often asked herself the same thing. What was the purpose?
Fleeting feet skimmed through the alley ways, rooftops, and every once in a while when none were looking, she would dip into the street unwatched. At most, anyone of the citizens of Daggerford would only be met with the dash of cardinal cloth before she was again emerged in the belly of shadows. Nefarious was no longer at such a distance from the Shadow Walker. It was not that she was being tailed for violence, but out of curiosity instead. There may be no fruit in wandering close to the woman's own quiet steps, but Umbra had fallen under a spell of boredom recently. Swift deeds were just that - swift and vapid with its ease. There was a reason that the Achaz was the best, and she had complete faith that they would never be dominated by Sethur's Hand, or anyone else for that matter.
In words plagued in mystery, she spoke as she closed in on Nefarious' space, "Out in the daylight hours? How strange." It sounded like a personal musing, but it was nonetheless directed toward the woman who seemed to be hasty with her direction. She descended a minuscule height from a rooftop, then allowed the slender length of her back to idle against the hard surface of a wall. The Shadow Walker was built differently from most females; meager feminine curves, and robust musculature. She enjoyed the use of things that required true physical power to be honed, like heavy hammers and bulky maces. She believed in the power of pure strength, and that a blade could always be disarmed from a worthy opponent. So, without relying always on the use of argentine, if you pit her up against a man with nothing but her body, she could easily crush him. There was much merit in such abilities, even if that meant she had to take away from her womanly appearance. She was completely shrouded when she went out, so it was not like any of that mattered anyway.
Even through the mithril shield hiding her face, her words were strong and drifting. There was not conversation expected from Nefarious, as she could be described as keeping to herself, but there was no harm in making the attempt. If anything, she may use the help on whatever she was tasked to do. If anything at all. However, this did not seem like some careless stroll through Daggerford's treacherous veins. There had to be some reason. It was none of her business, and Umbra would not inquire as to what motivation set her feet to animation.
Rheya Ashdown
Like a silent spectre, a petite figure donning shadowy threads ran upon the rooftops of the Grey Ward with the grace and agility of a panther. A collection of flat-topped buildings made her game that much easier but her target was going to be the real challenge- a solitary temple built close to the graveyard. Its ornate architecture wouldn't seem outwardly dangerous but to a woman that was used to keeping to the heights of such buildings knew that its pyatthat roofing design would give her very little room for error.
Yet, the acrobatic rogue held no hint of fear as her slender legs pumped faster, bringing her more swiftly to the edge of the roof she was currently on until at last she reached its edge and pushed off with her right foot. For a moment, she was airborne and her arms wheeled slightly to maintain her balance until her leather-wrapped feet finally settled upon the Temple's gilt-trimmed spire. Her momentum carried her further, making her alter her course and tumble up onto a higher tier of the roof then she had to leap once more until she was at the building's very pinnacle.
The view from this spot was one of the most breathtaking in all of Daggerford. With her right hand wrapped around the needle-like extension protruding from the Temple's apex, she watched the people below her bustling around like tiny ants gathering food for the colony. Her frivolous side trip wouldn't last long though. Despite her random bouts of whimsy, she had to get back to the Guild hall to see if there were any rumors floating around about the murder from the night before.
Swiftshot had a keen interest in such high profile murders and the gossip that surrounded them. Surely, by now, half of the guild would be up and wandering around after a late night of carousing. Moving quickly, she slid down the first tier of the rooftop then tumbled once more, bringing herself towards the front of the temple where large red and gold banners hung from roof to road. As with most holy places, the bigger the better, and it was one of these silken banners that Rheya latched onto with gloves hands to rappel herself down the side of the temple's wall. When she was only 10 feet from the ground, she released her hold and fell the rest of the way down, kneeling with the force of the impact so her legs would take the brunt of the motion. Then, like liquid smoke, she vanished into the crowds and made her way to the Western Guild ward and the Guild hall of the Achaz.
As the roof top aerobics had been a game to the young woman, so too was getting into the Guild Hall undetected. They had several silent sentries on guard almost around the clock to prevent the petty excuse for a rival guild from getting too close to their lair. So she melded with shadows, tiptoed silently and used every bit of cover she could find until finally she edged up behind one of her Guildmates undetected.
"Boo." She whispered softly, her lips mere inches from his ear. The man flinched visibly and reached for his weapon but Rheya gave herself away with her soft, melodic laugh as she jutted out a hand, pushing her palm against the back of his arm to jostle the watchguard.
"You need to brush up on your perception skills there, Barenthius. If I were one of those lingerie clad thief-whores you would've been sliced and diced before you even had a chance to look at some cleavage."
The man blushed slightly, then turned the embarrassment into anger. "And you should stop wastin' your talents on givin' me a 'eartattack, girl. Go inside and slip into some real clothes before you catch a cold." He snorted, then rolled the sound into a chesty chortle as he applauded himself for his amusing comments.
Such verbal jabs were lost on Rheya, though. Out of most of the females in town that she knew, she probably wore more clothing than any of them so she didn't take his jest too seriously.
"Yeah, yeah. Stick it in your ear, Bar. I'm heading in... Don't get yourself killed." With a wink, she spun on her heel and jumped through the semi-boarded up window that was one of the many secret entrances into the lower levels of the Achaz' guild hall.
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