Performing: The Masked Guild (Job) | Zeno & Alye |

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✖ SKIES TURN INTO STORMS.

Shatter every window 'til it's all blown away. 'Til there's nothing left standing, nothing left of yesterday.

After stashing the bodies of the men she had taken down in the woods not far from the camp, the dark clouds overhead silently thrashed over each other as Alye slipped inside the now understaffed encampment in front of her. She used the shadow of the door to cover her, but even at the entrance of the compound, the smell of booze was palpable. She seemed to shake her head in disgust a bit before her silhouette disappeared as a gentle wind washed over the drunkards' impending burial site. She reappeared a couple of feet away behind the corner of a large tent. She could tell by the glowing inside that there was someone inside, though she did not know who. If her Master's calculations were correct, which they usually were, there were four of these beasts left inside the same. Two more of the ones she dispatched outside and two stronger and more seasoned ones somewhere. Alye pushed her ear to the side of the tent and listened closely. For a couple moments she could only hear the soft crackle of a fire going on the inside, but as she listened closely she could just make out the sound of someone inside snoring quietly.

Such a cakewalk.

Alye came off the side of the tent and slid her foot under the heavy fabric that made the exterior of the structure. Golden light leaked from the hole and slightly illuminated the ground she was standing on. These fools were so drunk, they'd never notice something like that, but Alye was taking no chances. She disappeared once more in a swift burst of wind just as the tent fell back in place. A short burst of wind swept through the room, sending some loose papers flapping around a bit, but it was nothing major. But as the white-haired woman reappeared in the middle of the room, the fire next to her went out as she dismissed her winds. Sharp sky-blue eyes scanned the room thoroughly yet quickly. There were an extra pair of clothes sitting across the room on a simple wooden dresser. Several books lined the top of the dresser as well as some silverware and cooking utensils. They planned on being here for a while, that was for sure.

She turned a bit and noticed the sleeping man in his cot. She watched his chest rise and fall slowly, making quite sure he was asleep. Once affirmed, Alye kept looking around for anything useful. She checked drawers, opened sacks, and loosened barrels, only to find nothing important. It was when she turned back towards the sleeping man did she notice the chest underneath him. She could see the lock as well. Of course she didn't know the combination, so she would have to break the lock. But, it might wake the man sleeping over it. It would seem that Alye would have to dispatch the man before seeing what could possibly be in the chest.

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✖ SKIES TURN INTO STORMS.

Shatter every window 'til it's all blown away. 'Til there's nothing left standing, nothing left of yesterday.

 

From the dim light of day that managed to filter through the thick fabric of the tent, a growing shadow began to emerge over the sleeping man's form. The gentle rustle of feathers flittered on in the silent space as a woman's lithe hand slipped from the insides of her cloak. It stretched out and over the sleeping man's body and stopped in midair. Her hand swayed back and forth slowly in a hypnotic fashion before the air around the man seemed to shift to a different tint. It began to adopt a rather greenish quality as Alye covertly used her magic. Her keen blue eyes watched the man's movements very closely as his breathing began slowing down even more than usual for a sleeping person. Over the space of a couple dozen seconds, his breathing had almost ceased altogether before Alye took a step to her left - towards his head.


You see, the woman had subtly changed the composition of the air right around the man's body. She pushed out all the fresh oxygen around his and insulated the carbon dioxide he was releasing from his nostrils. His drunken sleep was now a deadly snooze that he was bound to lose. Alye brought her other hand up and out from under her cloak as she leaned forward a bit to get a good grip on the man's face. And with one swift jerk of the woman's arms, she quickly snapped his neck. The man's death was swift and quite humane. Even among the disgusting people he called companions.

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✖ SKIES TURN INTO STORMS.

Shatter every window 'til it's all blown away. 'Til there's nothing left standing, nothing left of yesterday.

 

Alye's hands pulled back from the man. She stood there for a moment before she reached over and grabbed his blankets, pulling them over him. That should do, she thought as she then leaned down towards the chest. The box was worn, darkened and faded with age, but it still looked strong enough to resist tampering. The lock was her least intrusive way in. Alye brought her right index finger and middle finger together to form a sort of pincer before she conjured magic to the point between her two digits. A small whiteish-yellow magic emerged from her fingers that cast an eerie glow over the woman's features. As the circle faded, her fingers began to sparkle with electricity. Before long, her digits were shrouded in a veil of sparks. She brought her right arm up and with a single swipe of her hand over the lock, she used her empowered fingers to slice clean through the metal connecting the lock to the chest without even the softest of snaps. She caught the falling piece of metal in her other hand and then extinguished the magic in her hand.

So far so good.

Alye set the useless metal down gingerly before she moved her limber fingers back to the secretive chest in front of her. The woman traced her digits across the surface of the wood for a moment before she gripped on side and brought the chest open. Her efforts were rewarded with the sight of some gold coins, a pair of worn boots, and a leather bound journal. Alye's face contorted in slight disappointment for a moment before she reached down and swiped up the gold coins. The man above her surely didn't need them. She moved back to close the chest but her hand stopped as it hovered over the journal. There might be some relevant information inside. Something noting to as what these masked men were doing in Clover Town. The woman grabbed the cold book and shut the chest silently.

She stood and flipped through the book quickly, skimming it. She could tell it was one of these journals that were actually made to look old. Especially since there weren't many entries inside it. Alye lifted a finger towards the doused fire across from her. An electric blue spark from her fingertip snapped forward and leapt through the air to catch the charred wood back on fire to cast the same light on the room as before.

Ms. Reyold began to read.

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✖ SKIES TURN INTO STORMS.

Shatter every window 'til it's all blown away. 'Til there's nothing left standing, nothing left of yesterday.

 

Was this man from Pergrande or something? Alye's brow furrowed a bit as she flipped through the worn pages in the journal. This man's grammar was terrible and his spelling was less than extraordinary as well. She could barely make out what he was trying to say at the beginning of the journal, but she could steadily make out more words and better diction the further in she got. Perhaps this man was educating himself... Alye looked up at his motionless body for a moment as a twang of regret ran through her. He was trying to better himself. Perhaps he wasn't so bad after all. Alye then looked back down at the journal and turned the page. She came up upon a detailed account of how he deflowered three maidens during a village raid.

Alye's regret extinguished.

Sighing softly, she decided to skip to the latest entry. Her interest was instantly piqued. It would seem that most of these camps were actually fronts. The only two real camps were the one she was in and the one her master had came upon. The remaining forces were going to use the tunnel system that the people of Clover had used to escape to sneak into the town and loot it. Alye shook her head in disbelief. This was actually a good plan, but that meant that her and her master had been given some faulty intel. That would certainly need to be rectified.

Slowly.

Alye was about to close the journal when she saw that there was another page left. She turned to it and read it quickly. What she read alarmed her. It seemed this man had overheard his higher officers plotting. It would seem that the looting was an actual front as well. The real target was the Guild Master Hall. Alye closed the book quickly. There was sensitive information and objects inside that sacred place. If these idiots got their hands on anything inside...

Alye stood up, throwing the journal into the fire. She watching the flames begin to devour the weathered book as the light reflected in her sharp blue eyes. It would seem that the time for stealth was over. The white-haired woman took a deep breath to steady her mind as she closed her eyes. She reached out with her senses, her mind, her soul, and felt for her master's presence. She could feel his movements, the fluidity and strength of his strikes. Indeed, it was time to blow the roof off this place.

White eyes snapped open, glowing strongly in the dim light as the same heavenly white aura suddenly began to radiate from the woman's full-figure. Her feathered cloak wafted back and forth gently as her her hair did the same. She supposed that it would be fair to give the other three perpetrators in the camp some kind of warning as to what was about to come. In the distance, a powerful boom of thunder could be heard, intense enough to shake the camp a bit. A gentle smile emerged on the woman's lips.

That would do nicely.

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On the outside of the tent, the drunken fools were busy scarfing down some sandwiches so they would be at least be semi-sober for the raid tonight. The only one who wasn't as drunk as the rest was the man in charge of this camp. He'd only had one beer, knowing that he needed to be in the right mind for when they sacked the Guild Master's Hall. He was just going over the plans once more at his desk when he heard it. Well, to be more precise, when he didn't hear it. A second ago, he could hear the drunken melodies of his two subordinates outside his cabin as they paraded around like idiots. Now, it was eerily quiet. "Clark! Mendenze! What the hell are you two doing?!", the man called out. He was answered by the sound of a loud thump. The man stood up fully and put down the map he was holding as he looked back at the door. He stared at it for another second before his hand moved over to the sword at his hip. He laid his hand upon the hilt as he slowly made his way towards the door. "I know you dumbasses can hear me, what are you doing?!", he called out again as he silently withdrew his golden blade from it's sheath. He was answered with another thump. The man steeled himself. Inch by inch, footstep by footstep, the cautious man made his way to the wooden door that connected his cabin to the little mead hall every camp sported. He rested his ear against the wood and listened closely. He heard the faint sounds of breathing outside the door. He gripped the knob strongly as he opened the door slowly and silently and peered outwards.

The man's eyes flashed with anger as he could see his two subordinates on the floor, seemingly fast asleep with their mugs overturned on top of them. The cheap booze inside the mugs had spilled all over the floor. It was plain to see that the two had fallen asleep and fell the ground. The man flung the door open and stepped through the threshold. "You godda- ack!", was all the man managed to say before he slipped on the booze on the floor and fell himself, dropping his sword next to him in the slick mess. "I swear to god, I'm going to kill you two!", the man roared.

"Too late."

The words were quick but terrifyingly confidently said. The man turned around just in time to see Alye's buxom form closing the door he had just opened with a smug smile on her face. His eyes and face seemed to turn a pale blue at the sight of her. But that was actually from the light of the electricity in her palm jumping down and hitting the sword that was lying in the booze-spill. The man's shrill screams only lasted for a moment before his - and his subordinates - bodies were overloaded by the voltage. Grey smoke wafted from their stiff bodies as they laid down for the last time. Alye let her hand fall as she ruffled her nose.

Singed hair smelled terrible.