Light Fade
Jan. 20th, 2016 02:58 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sunshardsOne of the oldest things I have written for Iiloridan, floating around for years
--
It was going to be one of those missions.
It wasn't the wait - one of the most unexpected requirements of being a rogue that still vexed him was near-infinite patience needed for well-executed kills. If you lacked it you could fake it with enough stubborn willpower. It certainly wasn't the location, though the cold, damp lowlands near Dun Morogh certainly wasn't the type of place Iiloridan would prefer to be shipped off to, despite the outrageous pay he was going to get for this.
No, this was going to be one of the types of missions he hated the most.
The type that stuck with you after it was over and done, stuck in your dreams and replayed over and over in your sleep for reasons you didn't care to analyze very hard. It really didn't make any sort of sense. Most kills left him feeling little, if nothing at all; confident that he had left a job well done.
Iiloridan crouched in the dark, cloaked in shadow with only two points of pale blue light giving him away- watching the whites of the priest's eyes roll about as the life left them.
The death was a slow one, relatively speaking. The poison he had been given to use was a new blend,designed for use on priests and paladins. It was a foul little concoction, make to both paralyze the victim while blocking their access to their holy powers, before stopping the heart. It was pointless to stab and poison someone who could simply heal their wounds and purge a poison with a wave of a hand, after all.
Iiloridan suspected, thanks to the smell and consistency of the stuff, that demon's blood was involved somehow. A fel poison of the highest caliber, rare and used for the most troublesome of enemies. What else but ickor straight from the Fel could paralyze a Light user's most potent gift? And he was quickly learning that just a thin coating wasn't enough to ensure a quick death, if the paladin's continued twitching and gurgling was anything to go on. Iiloridan made a face, grimacing in the dark. He preferred quick, clean deaths with little fuss, so the human's continued stubborn grasp on life both annoyed and disturbed him, once more in ways he would choose not to dwell on later.
An odd sense of foreboding filled him, and the rogue glanced around, straining his glowing eyes towards the dark of the room, ears perking as they searched for sounds beyond the dying human's rasping breath. Someone might have heard the paladin fall; his startled exclamation when he found his hands curled up into arthritic claws; the sound of the human's legs going numb and curling up under him, sending him to his side on the floor with a thump; the last coherent sound he made, a plaintive, disbelieving sound as he found the Light unable to answer his call for aid...
But no, there was no one. Only the gentle creaking of the inn around them endlessly settling on its foundation; the faint tinkling of glass and laughter down in the bar two floors below.
Dark deeds as of yet undiscovered, Iiloridan turned his gaze back to the priest, raising his dagger to end the man's suffering the old fashioned way, only to find him already dead; white, lightless eyes bloodshot with the poison's effects and locked into a eerie gaze towards the rogue.
Staring back blankly at the body for a moment, Iiloridan let out a huff. Slowly sheathing his blade, he stood from his predator's crouch at long last. Neck giving a mute pop of protest, Iiloridan looked down at the body for another moment before shaking his head and getting to work. He would need to be out of there and smuggled onto a boat or beast heading for the safety of Silvermoon within the hour.
After a few moments of struggle, the elf managed pry the signet ring from the paladin's clawed hands as proof of the kill. Quickly, he also looted the room, taking the paladin's weapons, spell books, and gold. One of weapons, a gilded mace said to hold vast holy power, was one of the reasons he had been sent to kill the man in the first place. His employer wanted the weapon, and the other items he would keep to be sold for a decent profit.
Ten minutes later, Iiloridan had thoroughly scoured the room for all possible lootable objects and, sparing the cooling corpse only a short final glance, slipped out the window into the dark safety of the night.
--
It was going to be one of those missions.
It wasn't the wait - one of the most unexpected requirements of being a rogue that still vexed him was near-infinite patience needed for well-executed kills. If you lacked it you could fake it with enough stubborn willpower. It certainly wasn't the location, though the cold, damp lowlands near Dun Morogh certainly wasn't the type of place Iiloridan would prefer to be shipped off to, despite the outrageous pay he was going to get for this.
No, this was going to be one of the types of missions he hated the most.
The type that stuck with you after it was over and done, stuck in your dreams and replayed over and over in your sleep for reasons you didn't care to analyze very hard. It really didn't make any sort of sense. Most kills left him feeling little, if nothing at all; confident that he had left a job well done.
Iiloridan crouched in the dark, cloaked in shadow with only two points of pale blue light giving him away- watching the whites of the priest's eyes roll about as the life left them.
The death was a slow one, relatively speaking. The poison he had been given to use was a new blend,designed for use on priests and paladins. It was a foul little concoction, make to both paralyze the victim while blocking their access to their holy powers, before stopping the heart. It was pointless to stab and poison someone who could simply heal their wounds and purge a poison with a wave of a hand, after all.
Iiloridan suspected, thanks to the smell and consistency of the stuff, that demon's blood was involved somehow. A fel poison of the highest caliber, rare and used for the most troublesome of enemies. What else but ickor straight from the Fel could paralyze a Light user's most potent gift? And he was quickly learning that just a thin coating wasn't enough to ensure a quick death, if the paladin's continued twitching and gurgling was anything to go on. Iiloridan made a face, grimacing in the dark. He preferred quick, clean deaths with little fuss, so the human's continued stubborn grasp on life both annoyed and disturbed him, once more in ways he would choose not to dwell on later.
An odd sense of foreboding filled him, and the rogue glanced around, straining his glowing eyes towards the dark of the room, ears perking as they searched for sounds beyond the dying human's rasping breath. Someone might have heard the paladin fall; his startled exclamation when he found his hands curled up into arthritic claws; the sound of the human's legs going numb and curling up under him, sending him to his side on the floor with a thump; the last coherent sound he made, a plaintive, disbelieving sound as he found the Light unable to answer his call for aid...
But no, there was no one. Only the gentle creaking of the inn around them endlessly settling on its foundation; the faint tinkling of glass and laughter down in the bar two floors below.
Dark deeds as of yet undiscovered, Iiloridan turned his gaze back to the priest, raising his dagger to end the man's suffering the old fashioned way, only to find him already dead; white, lightless eyes bloodshot with the poison's effects and locked into a eerie gaze towards the rogue.
Staring back blankly at the body for a moment, Iiloridan let out a huff. Slowly sheathing his blade, he stood from his predator's crouch at long last. Neck giving a mute pop of protest, Iiloridan looked down at the body for another moment before shaking his head and getting to work. He would need to be out of there and smuggled onto a boat or beast heading for the safety of Silvermoon within the hour.
After a few moments of struggle, the elf managed pry the signet ring from the paladin's clawed hands as proof of the kill. Quickly, he also looted the room, taking the paladin's weapons, spell books, and gold. One of weapons, a gilded mace said to hold vast holy power, was one of the reasons he had been sent to kill the man in the first place. His employer wanted the weapon, and the other items he would keep to be sold for a decent profit.
Ten minutes later, Iiloridan had thoroughly scoured the room for all possible lootable objects and, sparing the cooling corpse only a short final glance, slipped out the window into the dark safety of the night.
