NationStates Jolt Archive

Heap on himself damnation, while he sought
Evil to others, and enrag'd might see
How all his malice serv'd but to bring forth
Infinite goodness, grace and mercy shewn
On Man by him seduc't, but on himself
Treble confusion, wrath and vengeance pour'd.

An honest businessman wouldn’t be dealing in a shady warehouse in the middle of the Egos desert with an M1919 Browning Machine in his hands, nor would he pointing it at hapless hostages as a Krejei noble stood there, a cup of tea in his left hand, his umbrella perched over him and this entrepreneur of death in his right, the sunlight barely breaking through the silver arc. An honest businessman wouldn’t be smiling softly as the blood of children still lingered tastefully on his lips, feeling the soft and warm sinew stuck between his teeth as he tried to pick them out with his toothpick. An honest businessman wouldn’t be looking around, as if to make sure survellaince was evident and recording this malicious crime.

Then again, he wasn’t an honest businessman. He was practical.

Standing in the heat, the broken glass of the mahogany panel warehouse, it seemed like something from an action movie. And it was. The set carefully pull up, the cameras swiveling as the cranes were pushing around, the movie studios around him bustling with livelihood as the sinew between his teeth nothing more than cherry licorice. He smiled softly, gently, the noble beside him really a noble – Sekai Hamruun, a handsome man with strong, piercing eyes that slightly drooped to make a sad, somber expression. He carried a deep scar down to his chin, disappearing in his neck as his atom’s apple carried a black tattoo over his neck; a solid, snake-like ‘3’. What was that for? Only Sekai knew, it seems, as he fidgeted with it slightly. The businessman, Tserax Kellesus, sighed, tired, waiting for the support crew to bring him his daily dosage of wonderful, wonderful caffeine.

Tserax was similar to Sekai in terms of his handsome appearance, both of them easily capable of passing off as models, and sometimes he would put them both in ridiculous schemes to do just that. He had long silver that flowed softly and yet elegantly in the chilly wind, the dust regularly blasting around it, yet, almost like some sort of natural phenomenon, not a single grain ever was caught in such a matt and lock of wondrous silver fibers. He had a slightly pale skin shade, though obviously he shielded himself well from the sun to prevent an unwanted amount of sunlight touching his delicate skin. His left hand was scarred horribly, hidden beneath a white glove, his glasses in his breast pocket upon his black crisp suit as a napkin was in his right hand, wiping off the red blood-colored licorice from his knife-thin lips.

“How long do you suppose it’ll take?” Tserax asked Sekai, who did not respond immediately.

“Probably a few days, or hours, or even minutes, depending on where they are.” Sekai spoke, scratching his tattoo in annoyance. He brushed his long, porcelain white hair gently to the side, the wind catching it’s hold. Unlike Tserax, his hair did not shine or repel the dust, and frequently, he bunched it up and slapped it around a bit to let the sandstorms’ remains sift out onto the ground. At his side, he carried a long white tachi sheathed in porcelain, a sign of nobility out in this arid climate.

No such thing was in Tserax’s hands, though he did wear a white scar that smelled beautifully of autumn pomegranate, his gloves scented softly and only very gently of white plum. He had a wonderful appearance and manner about him, a perfect man who carried himself in a gentlemanly fashion no matter what he did. But it was no lie that he was a businessman; but not an honest one.

Explosions rocked the warehouse stage, a blossom of orange flame billowing up as black anvil heads of smoke drifted into the cloudless sky before dying into ghostly effigies. Screaming was heard like some gruesome orchestra before it died off magnificently, their crescendo reaching to the utmost climax of a particularly large explosion, shocking and rocking the entire warehouse into crimson oblivion. Tserax stood there, quietly, within his napkin already a detonator, before throwing it carelessly onto the ground, both hands grasping the Browning Machine in front of him. With the erect trigger prepared, he fired.

A mountain of bullets and blood sprayed in all directions as he turned it around in a 180 arc, firing blindly into the smoke as blood gushed from the lifeless pyres. Whenever a particular splatter would be coming too close to Tserax, Sekai always lowered his umbrella to shield his master dirtying his appearance. In all this bloody carnage, Tserax was crisp, clean, and untouched by blood, the umbrella they were using now a rosy red shade, turning quickly into burgundy as the sun was already baking the blood into a thin layer of sweet mud.

“Are you sure this is the place for the congregation?” Sekai asked, folding up his umbrella, looking around with the noon sun evenly tapped his smooth skin. “Will they come?”

“They will come. We’re all here for a singular purpose.” Tserax said, shifting his sleeve up slightly to look at his watch. On his wrist was a tattoo of a visible, black ‘1’. “Please tell the others we will be meeting at the Church of Khasz.” Tserax ordered.

With that, a message was sent to every Sakrianda within the world, the same message;

The Church of Khasz. Now.

OOC: So its time for all the members of the Sakrianda to join in?

OOC All right.


IC:
Freddy harrion sat in his apartment staring at a glass of brandy. It had been several days since his last contract, and ther Skakrianda hadn't sent him a notice of a contract, yet. His PDA pulsed in his pocket. "Speak of the devil..." He muttered to himself. He brought it out and brought up the single message sent to him. The Church of Khasz. Now. He smiled and grabbed a duffel bag filled with all the supplies and weapons that he nedded. This might be interesting...

South Central Arkehim

Richard Burnside was aving a good day. He had succesfuly completed two contracts, at the same time. Now he was working on some political assasination, some foreign emmisary. he had just blown past the body gaurds when his radio crackled to like. The Church of Khasz. Now. he chuckled, then decided to finish it quickly. He leapt over the desk he was using as a barricade and charged his target. His body gaurds fired and missed, every single time. Amatuers.. He brought his fist smashing into one of their faces, and vetilted anothers head. His target fell backwards pleading for mercy. "Its a living." He said, and fired. Appearently, the ruckus he had caused attracted quite a following, no later then he had killed his target then several SWAT officers burst through the door, bullet shields up. "freeze!" Shouted the closest one. Richard reached inside his jacket. "Don't think so." He tossed the flash bang towards them, then headed for the window. By the time it went off, he was already plummeting the twenty feet to the Victory river. Now, on to the new contract...

OC: I know i dont have a Sakrianda, but can i post the activities of my investigators, as a sort of way for the other people in this thread to know how they think and fight?

"Will they come?" Sekai asked again, as Tserax smiled, his smile wide and disgusting, a devilish sneer that contrasted his normally soft features. The Church of Khasz had no proper history, but that was what eerie about it. It was an infamous church of a religion never known before, deep in the heart of the unexplored deserts of a tiny protectorate nation known as Sooree. Here, it was famous, though nobody was willing to visit it due to the dangers of the sand - a perfect spot for secret activities. Originally, drug deals and mafia operations used this large abandoned and ancient structure, but it was not long before Tserax set his eyes upon it, and quickly and decisively, he rid them of their territory.

It was a giant cracking church, the paint peeling off gently and slowly but surely, the mosaics within depicting gruesome pictures of talking wolves committing pedophilia. One could only wonder what disturbing festivals and rituals were done within these dark blood stained walls, or what screams echoed still inside the skull-built minaret-like towers that loomed high into the sky like knives of a tower. Pillars lay broken at the entrance gates, a fence from the Sooree government running around it, yet obviously cracked at the front, dried flesh in the backyard hinting at unlucky children who had lost themselves in the rush of the vicious dunes. Here, at the featureless interior of this church, Tserax waited, and so did Sekai. How many would gather for the beginning of Chaos?

OOC: Sure. And pure OOC posts in the OOC thread, please.

“Come” One word echoed thousands of times, the demanding termination of one’s own life, the end of freedom. Still if work was to make you free then it was the hidden blessing of the world. Albemier walked, an oak staff pushing aside sand in little rivulets that built up at the base of the dune. Deserts were of second nature to Waldenburgers, they had made there home in one and built an Empire there. Felix plodded through it stepping over the occasional deadly animal with an air of preoccupation. ‘There was a song about the desert. The children used to sing it, sing it and believe it.”

The words were lost to Felix, children’s songs did not capture his mind well when he was attending to business. He had mostly been on the run for the last two years, hiding in the mountains, meeting mad old hermits and subsequently befriending them. Hermits were one of the few sorts of people Felix did not view as weak, morally and physically. On a mountain top the mind cleared and all delusions fell away.

“You must cross is all alone.” He whispered the chorus, despite his best efforts his repressed childhood was coming thorough. Indigent orphans clamoring about which vocation they had been selected for, by the governments hand. Still he trudged eyes never turning down. The High Inquisitor thought he ha achieved a position of great service, to weed out the weak in service of the Church. God’s own hand, to reap down the corrupt, the virulent plague of weakness.

“At the other end you’ll find justice, not a deed or thought forgot.” Of course they had had other plans, not to God’s glory but their own. Bishops preaching of poverty from palaces of silver, Monks sleeping in silk sheets. Hypocrisy and lies were worse then the heretical and blasphemous tripe spouted by the peasants. To find evil one had to cast your hand to those closest, no one is safe, no one can feel the end coming not of life or of the insipid evil that is as good as death.

“There’s no one to cross it for you. Alone.” Albemier had always walked alone, he and perhaps these few were the keys to heaven. The answering call of a hundred billion screams, souls unable to break the mortal coil. To much to hope for? Probably, but it was better then stealing sheep in the mountains and hiding from ever circling Imperial Gunships.

Khaz Church came into view, by Waldenburger scale is was a chapel. As the walker approached it became a fresco of the Pagan religion, wolves and children…the paint was too faded to make it out completely. The whole area smelled of dried blood, ash, and human decay, High Inquisitors had a very excellent nose for this sort of thing.

“To the blind judge all souls are bound.” Albemier rapped on the door politely with his staff before pushing it open. At least Pagan’s were forward about what they were up to, they did not hide behind shrouds of piety and poverty. “I have walked your desert, and come to an oasis in the sand. The soul purified with fire brought before you, prepared for the great work.”

Sekai stood quietly, Tserax sitting on a bench as he read a small black book that had a strong resemblance to the Bible, though it wasn't. Although Sekai never did talk to Felix much, he knew of him greatly by how fondly Tserax enjoyed the personality such a man brought. A man like him, in this organization. Sekai though joylessly. Though, as always, he had an appearance to maintain in front of his superiors. "Felix Albemier. How long has it been since we last met? I was certain you and I had talked before."

“Talk. Talk. The exchange of ideas and anecdotes through verbal communications between two or more sentient beings. The Exteriorization of our ideal dreams expressed into the robust infinities of world., between two imperfect beings. I do not believe we have every spoken before, not in the strictest terms. However in the more mundane set directives and definitions, not long ago at all.” Felix’s head was tipped slightly his eyes shining, they had a way of putting people off, confusing them silencing them. Of course ramming a knife thorough their throat was a similar way, and the High Inquisitor knew both ways worked quite well.

“Such pagan splendor. Apart from the amalgam of decadence and weakness, deceit and lies .one bastion against the sky, set apart on opal ground. “ He craned his neck to study the peeling walls. Am I the first? Has not your master even arrived?”

"I'm right here, Felix." Tserax stood up, closing his book as he placed a shoulder on Sekai's shoulders to silence him from talking back. "My, you look tired. Though, like you'd probably say, my talk isn't actually necessary." There was sharp, painful way he said those words, as if he was hiding something important or crucial to both of them, his eyes an obsidian black, his glasses put on his face, the shining light giving off an icy stare. "You are the first, so you are the quickest. Quite impressive, I must say. Is this your first time meeting me?"

Sekai spoke this time. "Perhaps or perhaps not you have met our leader, Tserax?" Sekai looked at Felix. "He is the one who has gathered us together, made us what we are and funded our entire organization, our entire family of chaos. He is the strongest, and respect should be given appropriately to him, Felix." Sekai said strongly, his thumb perched slightly upon his sword, as if wanting to slice Felix's head. Once more, Tserax placed his hand on Sekai's shoulder.

"It must have been an arduous journey, must it not? Where were you before you came here? To have come here so fast." Tserax asked.

His heart was beating hard now, sweat beading down his brow. Behind narrowed eyes he surveyed his target opposite him, dancing around in front of him, his hands up as guards against Avander. Actually, it was only slightly trying to him, his skills vastly superior to this, this thing that actually considered himself a fighter. Something of a smirk on his lips, Avander faked a kick. The defender bit, bringing an arm down to block, but putting too much weight on one leg, exposing his side. In a flash Avander brought his elbow down on the man's ribs. Cracking noises greeted his ears gleefully as the other man stubbled back a little in pain, clutching his side. He righted himself, to continue the fight. "Got some balls, eh kid? Not for long," Avander thought. The other lunged, and actually surprised Avander, who had blocked down but failed to see the arm swing back up. It connected with his jaw, and Avander stumbled back a little. It was then that he heard the beep of his communicator with a message. That could only mean one thing.

It was time to finish this fight. As the other man came forth again, he tried a high kick, giving Avander time to reach down into his leg and bring out his knife. Time was slow for him as he brought it up into the other's chest, deflating a lung with the puncture. The other didn't even move. Avander placed his hand around his head, and leaned in close. "Last time you ever draw blood from me, little b***h," he whispered as he snaped the neck.

Drawing his towel, he reached into his bag and drew out his communicator. It had one message.

The Church of Khasz. Now.


Time to see what was up now. Hopefully something fun, like this. He messaged back.

On way. ETA 1 hr.

“I was unaware of your presence sir,” Felix made a bow; indeed he was a little stiff. “Coloration becomes irrelevant when one is trained to see in black and white. Although this is our first meeting, I have perused pictures, and heard recordings of course but this is truly our first meeting.” Felix bowed again. “My speed is a more easily answer question. Does the salmon need reason to spawn, the birds to migrate to warmer climates? My nature compels me here, to location of my greatest need. Conveyance was perhaps more difficult, though I have managed. The Divine Legion were hesitant to allow their property to be driven away without a certain amount of coercion from my rapier.” He gave a faint smile, he was sure the, underling of the two did not like him, his hand strayed his sword more often then Albemier preferred to count.

“The mountains of Waldenburg provide excellent cover, one may live his life their uninterrupted by humanity. Through a stroke of provident luck I was interrupted and managed, at some length, to talk the Divine Legion out of one of their Gunships. Beyond that the journey was quite dull. But my frail bones compel me in the face of danger to inquire of our most illustrious master if he himself is the most strong and capable of our organization? I do not harbor pretentious thoughts on such a subject, but ignorance is the greatest vice. On such matters of ignorance may I inquire as to the material of your study,” he pointed his staff vaguely in the direction of where Tserax had been sitting.

"But now if I am pardon I must rest, the last leg," he chuckled slightly, "was indeed difficult."

"Of course. Rest is essential, and depending on the locations of the Sakrianda, will determine how much rest we will get. As for this book." Tserax opened it ajar, looking at the symbols as a foreign language scarcely read. "It is actually a planner of sorts, you may say. I have much to maintain, and this organization's doing isn't so easy to keep up. You probably know that a few of our brethren are fairly, bloodthirsty. It's an expensive and laborious exercise to have authorities look the other way." Tserax smiled though, his left glove rolled up slightly for him to check on the searing, burning flesh that was laying rotten.

"In another sense, however, I guarantee nothing of any sort, nor do I make any claims on whether you should or should not wonder if I am capable to be named the strongest of the group. But," Tserax said, straightening his glove, his suit, and his glasses on his face, "I will say one thing that is the utmost truth to all within this brotherhood. I you believe you can break me, I welcome you to try." Tserax said gently, softly, though with a chilling, icy sensation in his voice.

Sekai looked at the communicator. "Another is coming."

Avander approached the church. Quaint, he thought. A little ironic, but he didn't set things up.

He didn't even bother with knocking. They knew he'd be coming, and if he wasn't expected he wouldn't have even made it this close. Damn, he liked this organization. Not really a secretive person by nature, he still did get some kicks from sneaking around and such. And of course, he got his best kicks from killing. Who didn't?

He scanned the room, seeing three people already there. He'd never met any of them, nor seen any pictures of them. They could only be Sakrianda by being here, but who they were he didn't know. Probably just other lackies like him.

"What-up motherfuckers! Who the hell are you, and why the fuck am I needed?"

The helicopter roared over the desert sand. Freddy had commandered it from a near by military base, and on the way to the church, he had picked up another Skarianda ad fellow Union citizen, Richard Burnside. He switched his radio over to a closed frequency. "Where should I land this?" He said over the radio.

"Rude mouthed barbarian, using such language here." Sekai said, frowning, as he unsheathed his sword. "Do not make me cut off your tongue."

"Sekai, everyone is here for one goal, and we come to that ideal through different ways." Tserax said, smiling as he put his hand on his shoulder again, Sekai sheathing his sword back into it's sheath. "Avander, correct? The first time we meet in person, correct? Very nice to meet you."

"Sekai Hamruun, 3rd Sakrianda." Sekai said, pointing to the black '3' on his neck. "In such a holy place and in the presence of others, you should be careful on your choice of words, fellow Sakrianda." He quietened down, though still kept a cold glare.

"Forgive the lack of introductions and information regarding this situation. Obviously though we have been around for a while, I chose not to disclose information on any of the Sakrianda for the reason that we must stay quiet and separated from each other until the plan is ready to bear fruit. But, you might confused on who I am." Tserax shifted his sleeve up slightly, revealing a thick, black '1' on his wrist. "I am Tserax, the leader of the Sakrianda. Welcome, Avander. There is much killing to be done soon."

The helicopter roared over the desert sand. Freddy had commandered it from a near by military base, and on the way to the church, he had picked up another Skarianda ad fellow Union citizen, Richard Burnside. He switched his radio over to a closed frequency. "Where should I land this?" He said over the radio.

"Behind the church is best." Sekai said, communicating through with his radio. "3 others are already here."

"Roger that, looks like I'm a bit late." Within five minutes he had landed the chopper and unloaded his gear. He pulled a body out of the compartment, the original pilot of the chopper, before dousing him in lighter fluid and dropping a match. he keyed into the radio again. "I'm down, brought Burnside with me."

Abandoned Warehouse, Sumguaia:

A tall man wearing a black cloak walked towards the old warehouse. He aproached the door, and spoke a sentence in Sumguaian: "For the glory of the Empire, and the destruction of those who would diminish it's greatness."

The door opened, revealing a group of twenty men around a table upon which a map was laid. On a wall was a flag bearing the insignia of the Sons of the Empire, a fascist terrorist organization that operated within the Holy Empire.

"Welcome brother!" said a man, approaching the stranger. "You are just in time, we are planning the bombing of parliment next week and the assasination of George Claxton."

The stranger walked with him up to the table and paused. "I am afraid i cannot allow such plans to move forward." came a voice from under the hood. The cloak was thrown off, revealing a white outfit emblazoned with St. George's Cross that was the uniform of the christian sect of the Abrahamic League.

The man he had been talking to stepped backward, his eyes widening with fear as he saw the intruder's face. His terror was short lived, as an instant later a hand smashed into his face, breaking his nose and driving cartilige into his brain, killing him instantly. Four others charged the intruder, and in seconds they too were dead. The stranger then reached into the white coat he was wearing, drew a pair of P-90 submachineguns, and emptied them at the remaining people in the room.

When the firing stopped he looked around, they were all dead. he turned toward the door to see a man in the doorway, who had not been killed by the gunfire, looking at the scene with a mix of elation at the sight of so much death and fear of his attacker. The intruder howled with fury as the man fled, he had recognized the face as that of Gregory Woodson, a wanted mass-murderer. He ran outside to see a car speeding away.


Once he had gotten three miles from the warehouse, Gregory breathed a sigh of releif. His cellphone went off and he looked down, seeing a text message on it: The Church of Khasz. Now. Fine time for a meeting.He looked back up to see a motorcycle keeping pace with his own vehicle, the rider pointing a submachinegun at him.

Three minutes later he lay pinned by the burning wreckage of his car, his lower body completely crushed and catching aflame. He heard footsteps approach, and a voice whispered in his ear.

"Do you feel it yet? The remorse for those you murdered? The fear, knowing that your life has been worth nothing, and your reward will be eternal damnation? God's vengance has been enacted upon you, as it shall be upon all the wicked of this earth."

With that, Captain Wall stood up, emptied the clip of his weapon into the man, got on his motorcycle, and drove away.

OOC: i hope you dont mind that i made a Sakriandra and killed him off immediately.

The Winchester Building, Downtown Arkheim

Eric Baxter cowered behind his desk. The gunshots in the hall outside his office had ceased, whether his assailant or his body gaurds were dead, he couldn't tell. The door burst off its hinges, appearently locks weren't going to stop his assailant. He threw his hands up. "Don't shoot!" he managed to squeak. His assailant chuckled and holstered his gun. IIf I intended to kill you this whole floor wouldn't be here right now." Eric reached under hsi desk, with luck, he would be able to get his USP before the assailant could see... s ingle gunshot grazzed the top of his head, and he immdeatly brought his hands up again. "I've heard you do the contracting for Freddy Harrison, what was his last contract?" Eric clamped his mouth shut. "The hard way it is then." His assailant crossed the room in what seemed like one bound and grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against his desk. he could see his face clearly now, he only had one eye, the other had any eyepatch over it. "I'm going to ask again, don't aswer and we'll see how long you can keep your grip." Eric clamped his jaw shut. "The hard way, again." The one eyed man ppicked him up by his collar and smashed him out the window, grabbing his hand before he fell. "Talk, and I'll let you go, don't talk, and you'll fall." Eric piped up. "I don't know much, I swear! All I know is that he got hired by some group called the Skarianda, thats all I know!" The one eyed man let go of his hand, a look of shock spread across Erics face before gravity caught him and pulled him erathbound. "Should've asked to for a clear definition of 'let you go'." He muttered.

OOC: I was actually expecting that. Hence my thread title.

"That makes six overall." Sekai said, smiling, before his cell phone rang. "Hello?"

It was Omnackh. One of the many intelligence gatherers, they weren't members of the Sakrianda, for the Sakrianda were the elite of a much larger organization called the Sons of Sagacity. However, at the top of the organization, there were the 13, the Sakrianda, upon 12 and 13 have been brutally found dead through some unknown means. There is no place in the world for weaklings. Now, Omnackh had the same rushed voice he had when 12 and 13 were killed. "Woodson has been killed. Number eleven is dead."

"Have you identified his killer?" Sekai asked, his voice calm and peaceful, as if nothing had happened, a smile on his face.

"No, Master Dollface." Omnackh replied, his voice rushed and hurried. "I need to hang up soon, I will call back at a later time."

Sekai hung up. "Is that so? Woodson won't be joining us today. He's too weak to spread any more chaos. Unbefitting." Sekai said, as Tserax chuckled in amusement.

"Ah, you two. My name is Tserax. I am the leader of the Sons of Sagacity, and the First Rank Sakrianda. This is Sekai Hamruun," He said, looking at Richard and Freddy, before pointing to Sekai. "Perhaps you know him in a different alias? Perhaps you know as Dollface?"

Dollface was the infamous communicator of the Sakrianda; whenever events occured, he contacted the Sakrianda needed for that event to occur. He was the mediator between the authority that was Tserax and the mass weapons of destruction that were the elite murderers, the Sakrianda, to further the chaos and bring about the doom of the weak.

freddy shook his head. "All I got was a message." Richard nodded though. " You got a message? I got a radio call from him, was in the middle of a particulalry fun assignment to.."

As the doors seemed to move in a constant swing of new entrances, Albemier shifted himself to a pew near the front of the decaying church. Old habits of invisibility died hard. He heard their shouts, and spun around when he heard a sword drawn, but of course it was the jumpy one, probably couldn’t hurt anyone if he tried. Still it would be best in the pistol was a little ways out of it’s holster. The High Inquisitor shifted slightly and folded himself into a bench, he was perhaps getting to old to be constantly under the cloak, and harassed by the dagger, but again what good was he in any other position?

The pew was uncomfortable. Perhaps that was the one constant of religious buildings everywhere. Still it was blessed relief from the hours walk down slippery sands. As he listened to the pointless bickering and conversation behind him, he slipped a small leather bound book out his robe. It was very small and ornamented with a sun emblazoned on the front in faded silver. Albemier couldn’t resist a look, he carefully opened it to a scrap of paper he had been using as a bookmark, and began to read. Within a minute a small tear splashed down on the page, crinkling the centuries or parchment. It was one of a few treasures he had removed from St. Michael’s Cathedral on his last and rapid departure. He could wait till the rest of them had finished whatever trite business occupied them; he had the Book for now.

Freddy shook his head at the quarrles of the others and entered the church. Eben though he wasn't religious, he knealt before the ruined altar in reverence.

Avander looked into Sekai's eyes as Tserax spoke. There was a coldness there, but probably not unlike his own eyes.

Pulling up his sleeve to his elbow, he exposed a black 'five' tattooed into his skin. "Guess that clears up who everyone is. I apologize for my......lack of manners." Though he said the words, he didn't really mean them. It was apart of the game, and he knew that he was supposed to show some semblance of respect for those above him. Though he thought he could take Sekai. What a fight that could've been.

"So how many more are we waiting for? And when do I get to use my....skills?"

"Very soon, very soon." Tserax said, smiling, as Sekai walked over to the cracked windows, staring out at the desert light. "I am waiting for our number two and our number four to be exact. However, waiting only a bit further for the chaos to spread will make it all that much more worthwhile. I hope none of you have rusted in your skills. I need powerful warriors for the difficult trials that will come soon." He walked over to the broken altar, walking behind it as he took out a black bag, opening it up as Tserax revealed a small black vial, eleven in total. "Gregory Woodson is dead. The eleventh was killed." Tserax said coldly, before smiling. "Though, such a weakling could not amount to much."

Sekai turned around, revealing a small red vial-shaped pen in his hands, a tiny puncturing needle on its end as his finger was trailing slight blood. "As per tradition to our Sakrianda ways, and in our oath to spread sheer destruction upon this tainted world," Sekai drew a small crimson circle on the ground with his blood dripping from his index finger, before afterwards closing it with a bandaid in his long sleeves. "The carnage begins soon."

"The blood has been set. In this, our ceremony begins. Is it just me who finds it in great irony that our destruction begins with an orderly ceremony?" Tserax asked aloud, though mostly to himself, chuckling slightly as he took off his glasses, putting them gently in his breast pocket. With that, his hands banged heavily on the broken altar, wood beneath his hands cracking and buckling.

"So, who wants to taste blood?!" Tserax asked, his eyes wide and excited, his teeth bared, his smile long and large.

OOC: Just need to wait until Mereshka comes, then killing begins.

freddy stood up. "I will." He said. He noded at Richard, and they both walked to the broken altar.

"Your target." Tserax said, pointing to a fairly well built man with a strong, sharp set of features, his eyes piercing and his chin wide and finely crafted. He had thick lips, though at his side was a helmet tucked neatly under his rippling left arm, his right arm hidden beneath a set of black robes. "I offer you a challenge. In this country is this man, a leader of certain political unity. His death will result in a devastating civil war for Sooree that could rip generations from generations, throwing them into sheer violence. Kill this man," Tserax challenged, tapping the photo gently, "in one hour."

Freddy chuckled. "No problem. I'll be back in less then an hour. Am I correct in assuming he'll be in a local governmental building?" Freddy chuckled again. "Then again, the hunt is worht the kill." He dashed outside to the chopper he stole, leaving Richard behind, stunned at his actions. Guy has to learn how to move.. He quickly jumped into the pilots seat and activated the rotors and took off as soon as he could.

15 minutes later

The city was in site, luckily his chopper was boradcasting a Union IFF signal to the radar, they would probably think he was just heading for the local garrison.

Twenty minutes later

he was hovering over a governmental building, he felt sure that his target was inside, a killing instinct if you will. He now had one of two choices to make. Cannon or missles.... he flipped the cap off the missle safety. Fireworks it is he fired all he could into it, demolishing most of the building, then ripped into it with cannon fire until it was destroyed. he keyed into the radio frequency "This is harrison, mission accomplishd. And as an added bonus, I used a Union IFF all the way in, that should stir feelings of war towards one another, heading back to base."

50 minutes later

Frddys chopper had ran out of gas and he had been forced to walk back. He threw open the doors and entered, dust trailing in his wake. "I did it, added bonus to it as well."

Tserax laughed out loudly in excitement, almost an insane, eerie laughter. "Good! I want a kidnapping this time." Tserax took out another photo, like a card being handed out at a blackjack table. This time it was a young girl, dressed in beautiful opal robes, her hair a long and silky golden shade as her smile was evidently pretty. She carried a cute demeanor, her eyes bright and slightly large with an azure shade, smiling at the camera softly with affection. "You have half an hour to kidnap this child from her house. Her name is Elanore Hamruun." Tserax looked at Sekai, before turning to Richard. "Sekai's sister."

Sekai turned around, his face contorted into deep surprise.

"I'm going to need some gas for my chopper." Freddy said. "Otherwise, I'm getting nowhere fast."

"I betit has a reserve tank though... consider this mission accepted." He pointed his index finger at Rchard. "Lets get going, need another pair of eyes for this."

Five minutes later

"yeah, this chopper has a reserve, pretty big to." Freddy chuckled. "Paranoid military." Within two minutes he had the chopper warmed up and ready to go. "Remeber Richard, this is a kidnapping, no fatalities, no exceptions, got it?" Richard nodded solemnly. Freddy tossed him back a rifle. "Its a tranq rifle, its got enough in it for two, maybe three shots, other then that, keep to the shadows."

Ten minutes later

The chopper roared towards the private residence, Richard had looked it up on the PDA, appearently, it was considered small for a residence. "Richard tapped freddy on the shoulder. "Land in the backyard, we'll catch them by suprise.

Twelve minutes later

Richard and Freddy were in the house, each of them had on standard Union gear. "Perfect for mis information" He muttered. They swept the house and found the girl cowering in a closet. Richard lowered his tranq rifle but Freddy fired. "Struggeling hostages are bad for buisness."

Fifteen minutes later

the chopper was once again in the air and roaring towards the church, the girl was safle bound in the passenger compartment.

twenty-two minutes later

Freddy touched the chopper down behind the church and slung the girl over his shoulder before heading inside, Richard followed soon after. Freddy swung the doors open. "Mision accomplished, used the mis information again."

Avander watched as this "Freddy" and his partner got the first two missions. He couldn't help but smirk a little when Sekai's sister was the target of a kidnapping. There had to be more to it, but till then he'd take a little joy in seeing a very surpised Sekai. Course, he probably would've acted the same way, had his family been alive. Probably better they weren't, since it seemed this Tserax had no boundaries. Bringing about destruction and chaos was one thing, but there were limits when it came to family. At least, there would've been. Good thing they're dead.

"Hey, when you all are done with this small stuff, let me know when us big boys can play, ya dig? Till then, I'll be napping on a pew over yonder."


ooc: Last post for tonight, sorry.

"Elanore?" Sekai asked, looking at the burlap body hung over the chair in the center, Tserax smiling as Sekai unwrapped it, opening the bag as he looked at Elanore's tired and dirtied face. Contorting his face into a sense of disgust and sorrow, he swung around, facing Tserax. "Tserax!" Sekai yelled, his face contorted into such a fearful expression. "What is the meaning of this?!" He had his hand gripped on his sword.

"Oh? That's what I want to know, Sekai!" Tserax said, his face now angry, psychotic, his once calm and cheerful demeanor turning into a demonic, horrid face. He drew out a pistol, as Sekai drew out his, pointing it at Tserax. Tserax fired, the bullet skilfully smashing into Sekai's barrel, Sekai unable to fire as he reached for another gun in his robes, yet it was all over. Another shot, and Elanore was shot through the head, blood running down her face. "What is the meaning of you harboring a relative, Sekai?" Tserax asked, as Sekai frowned, tears welling in his eyes as he looked at the lifeless body of Elanore Hamruun. Turning around, he walked out towards the door.

"I'll be outside for a bit. I'll be back in when Lady Saya and Shi have come." Sekai said, as Tserax frowned, before the door slammed shut, the sound of pounding from the outside clearly audible.

"When you all join this organization, you made me four promises; that you will dispose of me should I show signs of weakness. That you would slaughter for the sake of chaos and destruction. That you would never utter a single word about this brotherhood. And, finally, that you had no blood relatives to cloud your judgment." Tserax was inflamed and furious, the air around him heavy. "Now, is there anybody here that is hiding something from me?!" He said, punching a clean hole in the lifeless body's jaw, a small splatter of blood touching his crisp suit.

“Could I possibly inquire as to what we are doing?” Felix, who had had quite some time with his book, now had approached the little group. He had been half listening, taking in something about blood and not much else. It his hands he held a fine bone china teacup which steamed aromatically, mixing with the smell of blood.

“Perhaps we should have laid down newspapers? I find when handing out tasteless acts of aggression it is best to keep our vicinity as tidy as possible for any secret sects as yet unknown to the world, who happen to be using this house of worship after us? I do become most insatiably vexed when my secret robes of the Grand Panjama become mired in previous societies leavings.” He paused momentarily one face out of the crowd, he couldn’t tell which, was staring dumbfounded at his steaming little cup, so out of place here. “I carry an electric stove with me, I find a lemon and crème does add a certain piquancy to murder which is otherwise lacking.” He took a small sip; it tasted like dust and banana peelings.

“As my station befits, I do not harbor mutinous thoughts against our master,” he bowed in the direction of Tserax, “but perhaps this is below even the meanest here’s station? If we were common killers we would not be here, all of us posses certain skills and abilities which set us above and apart the more common assassin. I as well made four promises; four utterance’s to bind me as stone to this hidden organization. I perhaps have not been forward on all of these; I still have relatives, a massive sprawling line of degenerate whores and slug minded ruffians. In all events, before and after my initiation I would not have considered myself one of them, and would kill them given the chance. I was adopted.” He added in a surely manner quite unusual to his normal speech.

This is however beside my insulations. Surely this,” he motioned his hand to the dead women in her burlap sack, “means as little to us as the flight of a sparrow means to God? We may look upon it and not act as the Divine has always done. There will be plenty, all of the time for that at a future point, but now we must perform an act more deadly, more imbuing to the common soul then backroom murder. All members may not be present but we may only wait a fraction of the time we may need. Our first act as a brotherhood should be a misleading one, a competitive swing in the batting cage of loyalties. A stab at the heart of perceived evil, while the true hand guides the knife as it were? Chaos and destruction are wonderful things, they reveal the true soul and nature of a man, but we few cannot take on the tides of enemies that could surround us. Quickly and with purpose sirs.”

"Yes, you're right, dearest Felix." Tserax said, nodding, his demeanor calm and smiling once more, looking at Sekai. "Hence, that's why we have more than just eight. Our army is ready. The Sons of Sagacity are preparing themselves to mobilize for this uprising of chaos and destruction, so that in the end, the strongest will survive. As you've said, us ten are above mere random killers with a taste for blood; we are higher, greater, and more powerful than any plain murderer can ever hope to achieve and become." He looked around, before nodding. "Time is short. The time to act is now."

Sekai stood up, the burlap body hung over his back, blood running down smoothly as Tserax nodded to the altar, Sekai sloppily throwing it into the altar, the wood making a loud thudding noise. He stood next to Tserax, as Tserax looked around, nodding. "There are enough here to make the first part of our plan work. Saya and Shi will come later, and when they come, I will debrief them myself. Felix, do you have any problems working with Sekai?" Tserax asked. "The operation begins now. Will you accept the call of the first gate of chaos?"

“Naturally in the extent that any human can be prepared for mindless and indelible slaughter, never to be forgotten from the minds of our peers and victims alike, I am indeed prepared for the first hurdle.” He set down his cup gently, his face growing business like, and droll. The High Inquisitor gave a little gesture of patience to Tserax, before taking one step forward a whispering a small Latin incantation over the deposited body. Before turning back to the huddle of killers.

“I am prepared, although my company would vastly depend on the mission. I would be quite partial to Sekai should the endeavor warrant his company. However I have a somewhat temperamental mood whilst in the field, and depending on the matter of the assignment before deciding on any companions. ‘I’m sure the hell he doesn’t want to go with me.’ Felix privately indulged the thought for a moment imagining just how uncomfortable he could make Sekai, then discarded it, he was much less eloquent when in the privacy of his ill kept head.

“What am I to do for the brotherhood?”

"I heard from a few sources that a Council of Bishops are occurring in Waldenburg. Is that true, Felix?" Tserax asked calmly.

Any confidence, any fervor drained away from his face. He suddenly looked pale and ghostly, shocked by the mere suggestion. “The Council of Bishops? The Council, in St. Michael’s Cathedral? The most well guarded, best attended gathering of scholars and holy men? The most powerful men in the world in respect to the loyalty and devotion they can summon with the wave of a gloved hand? I shall just minuet in the arm of a Bishop, smiling my face to eight regiments of the Divine Legion, and flashing a identity that will be checked at least a dozen times.” He paused suddenly filling with an internal light, obviously something had hit him, his speech had slowed in the last syllables of his dialogue.

“My face… Who looks the devil in the eye? Who could dare contemplate the infinites of evil there, when one’s life composed of sin, mired in the ignominies of a ruined society can look in the eyes of the devil and asked for his consequences. Guilt, sin, death and taxes the never-ending infinities summoned for the use of the corrupt and evil. Which, of course I am.” He paraphrased Faust clumsily, forgetting his usual elegance for a tongue flashing speed.

“I shall wear the face I have worn a thousand times through that gate, I will indeed waltz in.” He rushed around gathering up his things still talking; it was a strange thing to see the High Inquisitor showing any sort of emotion besides a dull amusement.

“I shall need funds, I have a pilot, an oblivious one, to be inhumed at the cessation of the task.” He paused, “I’m afraid Sekai will not be coming with. I can not fathom away to get two through the gate, although his is free to come along and perform his own task at your pleasure. However the Council…Did you have anything particular in mind? I do apologize if I seem over zealous but this is perhaps the greatest thing you could have asked, a task which I have been contemplating. To lead other’s to weakness, through morale hypocrisy is by far a greater injustice on mankind then simple weakness and idiocy. Billions of people have been lead down a path of lies through the teachings of the Church and the sands shall run red with their blood, unless of course you had a different plan of action? If allowed though I request autonomy in this assignment?”

OOC Sorry I have quite a long OP written for this one and it would be too much hassle to write another person in at the moment. I’m sure we can have a break away Rp from the attack though.

"Have no worry. There is a second game to catch. Sekai will not be accompanying you, but he will be making it much easier for you to do what I need to have done. Sekai will be dressing as a Muslim to purposefully be locked up in the bottom rungs of the Inquisition's stronghold, upon which he will be convincing the locals to open up the gates to freedom. In that, your task is to ensure that a little device I have given you is properly planted." Tserax opened up a small little black box, revealing a shining silver pill-sized rod. "This device here has a detonation force equivalence to a fully fledged cruise missile. It was quite difficult and expensive for me to acquire one, let alone four. Sekai will be taking the other three."

"Coated in a thin layer of mucous and saliva, it prevents stomach acids from burning away the shell; you simply swallow, then wait for you to go to the washroom, upon which you flush. It takes exactly 8 hours for the pill to travel through your body, so 8 hours exactly before the intended time of destination, swallow it. Sekai will be taking another as well. Do you have a problem with this little device?" Tserax asked Felix.

OOC: I apologise profusely for not getting on yesterday, I completely forgot.
IC: The doors burst open to show a scared looking Shi, and a blood drenched Saya. Her blue eyes looked around the room, regarding all there. She walked to Tsarex, "Sorry I'm late boss, I was having a little fun." She giggled, a rather odd sound coming from the blood drenched girl. She looked at the body of Sekai's sister. "Oh, the poor girl. Who did that one. Thats not very nice."

Shi walked over to stand beside the lesser Sakrianda. "Shes crazy, fucking nuts I tell you..." He muttered.

Freddy looked at him. "You want nuts, look in the mirror." He back handed him. "Weakness wil not be tolerated."

Shi growled at the man. "Weakness will not be tolerated eh? Who are you to tell me such?" He punched the man in the gut.

"As much as you guys might not enjoy it, but let's keep some degree of frigidity here." Tserax said, sitting down. "There are two assignments which will require all of the Sakrianda to accomplish both. While I make sure Felix and Hamruun are in Waldenburg, there are two other spots that I have waiting to be picked. There is the destabilization of Eisheen's political base, and the assassination of Lord Sumguy, both of them extremely difficult missions as the one I have assigned Felix to undergo. Which ones do you guys prefer?" Tserax asked, looking at Saya, Freddy, Richard, and the others. Though, it was slightly obvious Tserax felt slightly disgusted by Saya's bloodied appearance.

"Too dirty." He whispered to himself, his eyes closed.

freddy grabbed Shis throat and slammed him against a pew. shattering it. "Freddy Harrison." he said.

Shi seemed about t retaliate, but Saya stepped in. "Now boys, play nicely. Can't we all just be friends?" She turned to Freddy, "Now, you might not know this Freddy Teddy, but Shi here outranks you. And you really shouldn't be fighting your superiors should you?" She giggled again, "Freddy Teddy. Funny, don't you think?"

"Rank doesn't matter, skill is all that matters." he looked at shi in disgust. "I bet this worm would fall to pieces in a real combat mission."

OOC: Where'd we get the ranks? I don't now mine.

"As much as you guys might not enjoy it, but let's keep some degree of frigidity here." Tserax said, sitting down. "There are two assignments which will require all of the Sakrianda to accomplish both. While I make sure Felix and Hamruun are in Waldenburg, there are two other spots that I have waiting to be picked. There is the destabilization of Eisheen's political base, and the assassination of Lord Sumguy, both of them extremely difficult missions as the one I have assigned Felix to undergo. Which ones do you guys prefer?" Tserax asked, looking at Saya, Freddy, Richard, and the others. Though, it was slightly obvious Tserax felt slightly disgusted by Saya's bloodied appearance.

"Too dirty." He whispered to himself, his eyes closed.

OOC: just in case you guys didnt see it. I'm really itching to get the assasination of LS going, and patience has never been one of my virtues.

OOC: Jenrak randomly assigned them. You're number 5 if I remember right.
IC: Shi snorted. "You don't get high up without knowing how to fight buddy, and weaklings don't even make it to the Sakrianda." Saya nodded in agreement, "He's right Teddy. You have to know how to kill. Although I don't much like it, to much blood." She said, is if unaware of her blood soaked apperance.

By all accounts, it was about time.

Everyone said that Superintendent Saronov had been working far too hard lately. He was overdue for a vacation, and heaven knew his position allowed it -- this was a relatively quiet and wealthy district, after all; not much happened that the department couldn't handle on its own, as a rule. Not like the distinctly odd series of murders, kidnappings, and home invasions that had plagued the city of late. Some said that nothing of the kind would happen here as long as Saranov was in charge; after all, he was a war hero, had taken six MG slugs for his country and lived, and some said he'd been a Secret Service man too.

So it came as no surprise when Saranov signed out one Wednesday evening and let his secretary know he'd be back Saturday. There was some speculation as to where he'd go; Saranov had no living relatives, no family, and few known hobbies or interests. He was an almost fanatically devout Catholic, sometimes claiming he received personal visions from God; he was an avid hunter and gourmet cook; otherwise, it seemed he had no personal life. Devoted to his country and the safety of his community, the department always said. Maybe he'd be going off on a wilderness backpacking trip; Saronov seemed like that kind of guy, the quiet reflective type. They said he'd never been the same after his injuries in the war.

In fact, Saranov had a new interest, albeit one to which he could scarcely contribute much time. He sat through the plane flight, which would deposit him in a tiny nation that scarcely appeared on any maps, and which only connected to major airport hubs such as Kingston, Praetonia (where he had a two hour layover); he arrived, several hours late, and picked up a cab at the airport. The cab traveled to a place no cabs ever went, an unholy place -- Saranov crossed himself thrice before he entered it -- and a place it would not have gone had Saranov not injected the driver with a healthy six inches of steel and taken the wheel himself. Saranov climbed out of the driver's seat and slammed the door behind him; the cab (and cab driver's body) exploded as he took a deep breath and pushed open the looming doors. His left hand almost unconsciously went to the opposite elbow where, under a false strip of skin, was printed in black lettering the number 13.

Retaining a sense of perfect calmness, he seated himself and in the same moment examined the others. The organisation leader -- Saranov had not met him, being only recently admitted to the organisation, but knew well of him -- and a motley collection of the world's evil; the blood and guts scattered everywhere, a sign of the chaos he had come to recognise. (such an awful mess; when I am higher up in this organisation I may comment on it, but for now, best to keep quiet.) He sat and waited. Presently two more men appeared with a living victim; a kidnapping. He watched as the victim was shot and dragged aside, and the victim's brother (surprising how one had made it so high and yet maintained living relatives) stalked out of the room. Saranov stared up almost innocently at Tserax; his grey-mustachio'd face could have been that of the archetypical Volga boatman, and it seemed that any minute he would break into a heartwrenching and unpronounceable song.

[size=1] Damn, I started this post around Post 35 ish, so apologies for the non up to date ness.

Perhaps but I have seen first hand the pits of the Inquisition, there are things done there that would turn even our, physically liberal minds into a roiling jelly. The merest chance that the Inquisition near the Council of Bishops could apprehend Sekai, will involve a most terminal and short visit involving lemons dare I say? At any rate it should be very difficult for the bomb to successfully detonate. If you are aware of the situation in Waldenburg, and I must say that most of it’s citizens are not. All fresh water, however soiled is reprocessed and purified and redistributed. Our water supply is limited; I could not guarantee that it would even be in the building in eight hours. Due to the constant strain of four billion citizens water is in high demand.

“Beside that it rather defeats what I had in mind, something a little more personal and academic. If I may insinuate that perhaps I have more knowledge of the Waldenburger system? The best course of action in the besieging of an Empire that does not draw its main power from material wealth or military prowess, but from the depths of human belief. To kill the highest symbols of the land in one swipe is perhaps not the best course to follow, martyrs would not assist our cause, they shall merely entrench the enemy in his fortress even more firmly. An attack that shows the weakness of the Church, and eventually the essential incorrectness on its assumptions and teachings will do far more damage then a cruise missile. I can bring down the Empire, God himself in one campaign but I must have autonomy.”

“On the Matter of Sekai, leading up to the Council there shall be no reason to keep a Muslim alive. After a major explosion there shall be a lack of suspects, the Inquisition, if they haven’t changed, and I see no reason they should have modernized in the last two years when nothing has changed in centuries shall detain Muslims for questioning. There are also a few inside the Inquisition who still harbor some respect and admiration for me, they shall be of endless help, after the attack.” Felix Glanced hesitantly at the others and slowly drew a knife out of the billows of his robe. "Speed is of the essence now, everything is changed for the Council, the furniture, the guards, I must leave soon."

OOC Definitely a bad Idea to Write the Rp before the ideas come out… But yeah it’s sort of in depth and I don’t have the time to change it much.

"Very well." Tserax said hurriedly, looking at the escalating fight between Shi and Freddy. "Felix, I leave this to you. I have the utmost trust in your capabilities. Should you require aid, tell me immediately and I will send one to assist you. Do what you believe is best."

"Freddy, Shi, you two, as punishment, will be accompanying each other to the assassination of Lord Sumguy." Tserax looked at them, a fiery aura emanating from him, as if his infinite patience was nearly spent. "Sekai, Saya, Richard, you three will be the ones who will be responsible for the destabilization of Eisheen. I will not accept any excuses. Should I find a mission hampered due to infighting," Tserax grabbed a chunk of the altar, in one sweep crushing it into a fine sawdust powder, as if his hand was like steel, "I will rectify such an error, and we will see if this meeting amongst the Sakrianda was a mistake, and whether I should be looking elsewhere. Do I make myself clear?" Tserax asked harshly, his voice loud and powerful, booming and authoritative in this much needed situation.

"Saranov, you will be coming with me." Tserax spoke. "Sekai, Saya, Richard, wait here as I debrief you on the situation."

OOC: Mereshka, United human countries, talk to Lord Sumguy about the assassination in the OOC thread so things go smoothly.

Shi nodded hurriedly. "Yes, I understand sir." Saya laughed, "Ooh, I think the boss is getting mad, don't you think Teddy?"

Thank you,” Felix added equally hurriedly, he did not wish to watch this unprofessional display. “Perhaps if Sekai is available later, but I must perform the initial phases myself. Before I leave though I have one favor to ask,” he pulled from his robe the book he had been reading earlier. “Please keep this safe, it is most imperative that it is not found in Waldenburg with me, or really at all. Do not attempt to read it, I doubt you will be able to, it is in Old Waldenburger and should be safe from glancing eyes. I suggest you do not make copies or open it, it is for the best.” Felix plopped the book down reverentially on a pew. And mouth ‘or I will break you.’ To Tserax before jogging out his possessions under his arm. IT was time to collapse an Empire.

OOC Expect IC Attack thread soon.

Ivan Saranov raised himself to his feet, with a faint semblance of arthritis -- a needless pretense, as he and those around him knew alike that he was fit as a man half his age. With a courtly and deferential, yet sufficiently vague gesture, he said, "Very well, sir." to Tserax, and made to follow his leader. As yet the Superintendent had nothing to say, and was scarcely involved at all in the proceedings; he had merely sat on the side and observed, shaking his head especially at the obvious 'tough' pretensions of some of the younger members. He was experienced enough to know that toughness fools nobody; that the higher and more gifted killers look upon their work as an art.

Freddy looked at her. "You look famiiar, have I tried to kill you before?" Then he truened to Shi. "You keep your head up, no more whining about other memebers being crazy. We all are."

Tserax smiled. "Is that so?" With that, he safely tucked it away for not a single prying eye to see. "You are still old and yet too young to break me, Felix."

"It looks I am working with you, Madam Saya." Sekai said respectfully, aware of the rank difference they held. "I hope and look forward to working with you."

Shi had a short answer for Freddy: "Fuck you, I'm the superior."

Saya lguhed and gave Sekei a hug, "Oh, why by so formal Sekei? Afraid I'll kill you?" She grinned, "Don't worry, my thirst for blood has been satiated. For now."

"Shi, Freddy, the last I know is of whereabouts in Sumguaia. I have issued plane tickets for you to get there in an economy class seat, so it's nothing first class. However, when you get there, make sure you don't go on any killing sprees or attract attention until you have made sure you have locked onto your target. Also," Tserax said, giving Shi a credit card. "This is for any things you might want to purchase to make your mission easier, and for any lodging and transportation fees you may come across. Any questions?" Tserax awaited, since he had to talk to Saranov, Saya and Sekai still.

Sekai kept his formality, no matter what happened. He had to, otherwise it would slip with his sanity. Then again, perhaps that part was too late. "I thank you for telling me to be less formal, though it worries me that your taste for blood is only temporarily satisfied." He shot a emotionless stare at Saranov, as if trying to gain emotional support. "Do you agree, Saranov?"

Shi nodded, "Yes sir. No questions."

Shi nodded, "Yes sir. No questions."

"Another thing to note." Tserax said, smiling, though a frozen atmosphere was around him. "I've killed before. I know how much it costs to kill. If I see you two spending ridiculous amounts of money with my credit card, I will rectify that error. Can I trust you?"

OOC: Jenrak randomly assigned them. You're number 5 if I remember right.


ooc: Nah, that would be my guy Avander. Don't know your number.

ic:

Avander was amused by the newcomers arrival and subsequent fight with Freddy. Probably a good thing there hadn't been many more meetings of the whole group. It would really be difficult to try to cover these things up if all that ever happened at these get togethers were a few instructions and a bunch of fights. But that wasn't his problem.

He called out to Shia and Freddy, "How 'bout you boys play rough on your own time, or at least get a room!" Probably wasn't good to stoke the coals with any of the people here, but what the heck, he could handle himself. Plus, these people were technically lower than him on the scale. Well, Freddy was. That was enough for him.

Saranov half turned, taking a moment to digest the words. He had been paying little attention to the conversation; but as he reflected, he began to recall what it had concerned, and spent a moment constructing a response. This translated into an audible pause of four seconds. Saranov was known as a slow speaker -- the pauses tended to unnerve people, a very little bit.

"I would not worry, gospodjan Sekai," Saranov here used a Slavic term of address. "We all ... thirst for blood at times. In the end, is that not ... the purpose?"

The pauses, combined with his almost but not quite flawless English, made him sound either particularly charming or particularly evil. Or both -- there is scarce little distinction. In short, Saranov was a bad place to turn to for emotional support.

Freddy laughed at Shi. "I'll prove to you rank has no meaning on skill."

OOC: Here be ranks. (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13053362&postcount=58)

"Gospodjan? I'm not familiar with that word." Sekai said, wondering aloud, before turning to Saya. "Do you understand what it means?"

"Avander, will you be so kind as to help Saranov around and show him how the Sakrianda works? I need you to take him to the nearest city and teach him how the organization runs in terms of activities." Tserax said. "For a little bit, you'll be his teacher. Once you think he has a good idea of how things work, come back to me and I will give you an assignment. Fair?"

"Sounds good boss. Yo, Saranov, snap to man! Got to get you all caught up, and that's what I'm gonna do. Don't worry, you'll be top-notch when I get done with you. Hey, on the way, why don't you tell me a little 'bout yourself, just so's I can figure out the best way to, well, 'teach' you."

Saranov winced, partly at the slang (he still found it difficult to understand), partly at the mispronunciation of his name -- even though everyone did it, he was still uncomfortable with it. Nonetheless, he accepted the veiled order gracefully, and followed Avander out towards whatever vehicle was arranged for the transportation to the nearest city. At length Saranov started to speak of himself, in his usual slow and measured fashion.

"When I was young, perhaps your age.... perhaps even younger, I enlisted in the army. I was in the army three years when the war broke out -- there was almost always one war or another going on... you know how it is -- and I was awarded a medal of honour for my service, for the six bullets I took to save the lives of my comrades." Saranov paused, engulfed in the memories. "I was young and enthusiastic then, I am afraid." He chuckled. "Subsequently I served as a secret agent, and finally became superintendent of a police district in Lord Sumguy.... where I serve to this day."

Saranov paused, then continued. "As for my service with the Sakrianda.... I am, how you say, the 'new kid on the block'." He almost grinned, his grey mustachios quivering. "A small murder or two, the odd torture assignment; but I have never partaken in any major operations. It is very obliging of you to help me."

Shi had a short answer for Freddy: "Fuck you, I'm the superior."

Saya lguhed and gave Sekei a hug, "Oh, why by so formal Sekei? Afraid I'll kill you?" She grinned, "Don't worry, my thirst for blood has been satiated. For now."

"Are you familiar with the situation in Eisheen?" Tserax asked Saya plainly.

Tserax sighed. "Perhaps it would be prudent to get numbers 14 and 15 here." He said, sending a message to two others.

Saranov winced, partly at the slang (he still found it difficult to understand), partly at the mispronunciation of his name -- even though everyone did it, he was still uncomfortable with it. Nonetheless, he accepted the veiled order gracefully, and followed Avander out towards whatever vehicle was arranged for the transportation to the nearest city. At length Saranov started to speak of himself, in his usual slow and measured fashion.

"When I was young, perhaps your age.... perhaps even younger, I enlisted in the army. I was in the army three years when the war broke out -- there was almost always one war or another going on... you know how it is -- and I was awarded a medal of honour for my service, for the six bullets I took to save the lives of my comrades." Saranov paused, engulfed in the memories. "I was young and enthusiastic then, I am afraid." He chuckled. "Subsequently I served as a secret agent, and finally became superintendent of a police district in Lord Sumguy.... where I serve to this day."

Saranov paused, then continued. "As for my service with the Sakrianda.... I am, how you say, the 'new kid on the block'." He almost grinned, his grey mustachios quivering. "A small murder or two, the odd torture assignment; but I have never partaken in any major operations. It is very obliging of you to help me."

ooc: Um... what is the closest city called???

ic:
Avander listened half-heartedly to this man who, it would appear, to be quiet a bit older than everyone else affliated with the Sakrianda. He wasn't impressed per see, but it was just a tad unusual. It wasn't up to him, though, to make these calls. However, if he was Sakrianda, it meant that he was good at what he did, and that he was at least somewhat valuable to the organization. They all were, to some degree; some more than others, but that was how it was in these types of groups.

Saranov's story took most of the drive, which was fine. Avander wasn't the most talkative person, boasting aside and, of course, torture. But he really didn't have much to say on the way over, but now that they were here, it was time to get started. Avander parked the car next to tall building, obviously one of importance to the city planners. He turned to Saranov.

"Well, it seems you've seen your fair share of crap, though it will take more than a story of saving some friends lives and a medal to make much of a difference with this group. I don't mean that to be harsh; it's just how it is. Each of us Sakrianda has draw blood and been bloodied, which makes us more nasty than the normal person, but it also makes us hunters in a world of prey. Ya dig so far?

It's obvious you's know how to handle yourself in....well, lets just say you know what to do in unusual situations. Which brings us to the present. Whenever there's an operation to be done, there's always a damn good reason. May not always be apparent at first, but Tserax knows what he's doing. Not that I'd say otherwise to nobody, ya know?" He gave a slight chuckle at his attempt at humor. It didn't last long. "Now, I'm pretty sure you know what's required of you in this here organization. But, I just wants a small test, to see you in action, if you will. No offense, but I want to know what you can handle should we be paired together."

Avander pointed out the car, towards the building's enterance. "In there are some pretty high up business folk, stocks and stuff. Lots and lots of money. Your task, should you choose to accept-" another chuckle at the reference -"is to find the head honcho of this here building, get him down here to the car, and get his passwords so we's can get his money. Just a quick nab, shouldn't be too hard. Doubt they've even got security besides a few measly secretaries. Oh, and see if you can do it WITHOUT attracting too much attention. That's last thing we need right now."

With that, he just sat back and waited for his partner's - and guest - return.

The darkness was filled with a tiny glow from two flashes. The dim blue light was faint, and only held back the darkness for an instant before fading away. It was silent in the blackness now that the phone had fallen quiet after recieving a message from an important individual. A steady glow illuminated the room as it was opened, highlighting a small room akin to an office. Its walls were barren save for a curtained window. A particle board table with an assortment of loose papers on it and a flimsy metal chair made up the furniture. The carpeted floor seemed to have a large dark stain on it, and his footsteps made audible squishing noises as he stepped on it. Snapping the phone closed her tucked it into a pocket and walked towards the door, opening it and flooding the area with a sickly yellow lighting.

The heavy boots thudded loudly, the special liquid-resistant coating preventing the blood in the carpet from sticking to his boots. He half-turned, his head looking back into the room at one of the pair still in the room. A slight grin stretched across his dry and cracked lips, revealing the filed teeth. The voice was soft, like that of a delicate nature, but it was twisted by a sickly sounding rasp, giving it an air of masculinity and juvenality.

"It was him, we're heading to a church apparently."

He looked either imposing, or severly out of place. The floor-length coat he wore was extra large and spacious, he could literaly assemble a rifle inside without any outward signs behind a slight tremor. The sleeves of the black clothing stretched a few inches longer than necesary, this hid the unusual bulges of the weapons he had as gauntlets. His boots were from a military surplus store, and he'd used a spray meant for keeping water and other sticky solutions from getting onto them, ironically it worked wonderfully to repel blood.

After the exchange he turned away and walked to the car waiting outside in the rain and night. It was a good night for messy jobs, the water always seemed to be a sort of "cleanser". And it made wiping blood off a bit easier.

Inside the room, a similairly garbed individual nodded barely. His small, round glasses reflected the hallway light, hiding his clouded eyes from the any onlookers who might've happened to be present somehow. The coat he was wearing had been un buttoned so he could properly crouch, revealing grey leggings and a white under-shirt. His tanned hand was applied to the carpet, and it seemed as if the bloodstain was shrinking in towards where his skin touched it. This would remove DNA evidence of the crime and leave the justice system at a dead end once they began trying to find yet another "missing person".

He hadn't bothered to replace his own identity, rather choosing to destroy the corpse instead and tying up the loose ends. It was annoying whenever a journalist was trailing some of their members. It tended to lead to irritating situations. The job had finished up quickly however, the removal of any actual evidence the investigator had on their organization had been shredded, along with the body now. So there'd be no link to the murder and them. Barring he hadn't told anyone his current pursuit...

Standing up he looked at his palm with a slightly vacant look, not truly watching the blood on it be absorbed into himself. They'd been called in by him. That most likely meant they'd either be liquidated, or something big was going down. Both of which could easily prove to be unpleasent. As he exited the room, he eased the door shut, his eye lids twitching slightly at the creaking of the door. With a slight shove followed by a click, the silent room was plunged into darkness once again...

The ride over was fairly silent, Parasyte wasn't much of a talker as it was and now even more so from a silent introspective line of thought as he ran through a check list to make certain he hadn't messed up anything enough to be "removed" from the organizaton. Render however was usually the opposite, but he'd been pressed the importance this meant. Judging by his lack of usual banter about choice cuts or something else, and the death grip he had on the steering wheel of their battered commercial car. It made an odd spluttering noise at high speeds and going uphill, but otherwise it ran fine.

Render pulled to a stop two blocks away, they'd been watching for anyone tailing them and hadn't spotted anything. Out of an extra safety precaution, they'd go the rest of the way on foot to make certain no one was following them. Reaching the large doors first, Render pushed them open in a wide sweeping arc, everything was always better that way he said. Following silently behind him was Parasyte who swung the doors shut before looking around at the rare occurance.

The Sakrianda members all in one building.

OOC: EVERYONE is here now, right? @_@

Saranov nodded. "I was aware, when I was selected to join this organisation, that my accomplishments were far from unusual among those of my fellow comrades; but yes, I am quite used to the required violence and bloodshed, so it should not be a problem." He paused again to let Avander continue, outlining his first test. Saranov listened carefully, then inclined his head slightly.

"H'm. I will do it, in a minute -- I like to get a bit of research done before I take anything on," he said. Pulling a laptop computer from his backpack, he accessed the Internet and examined a few web pages, then shut off the laptop and returned it. Next to emerge from the backpack was a belt with standard police issue gear -- pepper spray, automatic pistol, radio, et cetera. Finally, he removed his old Secret Service ID, which he had modified to display him as a current member, and placed it in his breast pocket.

Saranov stepped out of the car and walked into the building as though he owned the place. His step was so confident, and his appearance so distinguished, that the man on duty simply assumed him to be one of the executives, or perhaps an important client. Saranov pressed the elevator button and stood back to wait, taking a moment to verify which floor his target was on before the elevator dinged its arrival, the doors slid open, and he stepped in.

On the top floor, he emerged and strode through the cubicles and offices towards the director's office. The route was complicated and tortuous; but Saranov's research had provided him with a map of the building, and he called it up before his eyes as he turned through a corridor and finally came to a curtained office looking out upon the city. He turned to the secretary. "Is Mr. Akimah in?"

"Mr. Akimah is in a meeting right now, sir," the secretary said. "Do you have an appointment?"

"Inform him that I have an urgent message for him."

"What name should I give, sir?"

"Never mind about the name.... he'll know who you mean."

The secretary passed this on to Mr. Akimah, and within a moment or two Saranov was shown into the inner sanctum of the business magnate. Saranov wasted no time. "Mr. Akimah? I am Lieutenant Colonel Saranov of the Secret Service," Saranov said, showing his ID.

Akimah looked appropriately shocked. "Is something the matter, Colonel?"

"I'm afraid so, Mr. Akimah," Saranov cast his gaze around the room. "I'm not sure it's safe to talk here.... would you mind coming down to our car? It'll only take a minute."

"Certainly." Akimah was evidently impressed; and besides, he'd had his suspicions of some of the people in his company for a while. He knew well that he himself had done nothing wrong, and so reasoned that Saranov was here about some of his subordinates. He followed Saranov down back through the elevator, out the lobby, and into the car.

"It doesn't look like a police car," Akimah started doubtfully.

Saranov shushed him violently, and said in a low voice close to the other man's ear so only he could hear, "Service cars are unmarked, especially when we're on missions like this one. That way, it's impossible to tell them from ordinary ones."

Saranov opened the door and showed Akimah in, briefly pointing out Avander in the front seat: "That's my partner, Captain Shai, also of the service."

Avander murmured some perfunctory greeting, evidently interested in how Saranov would complete his mission. Saranov began without preliminaries: "Mr. Akimah, you're quite a wealthy man, as you know. However, we have evidence that an international gang of crooks is trying to steal your money."

Akimah squirmed uncomfortably. "The vast majority of my savings are in Sooree's most secure electronic bank, Colonel. It would be a very clever thief who could get it out without detection."

Saranov lowered his voice dramatically. "You don't know this gang, Mr. Akimah. They come from all over -- Allanea, Doomingsland, Jenrak, the Hegemony.... and what's more, some of the knowledge they've displayed so far can only be inside knowledge."

"You're saying...." Akimah was almost breathless.

"I'm saying that someone in your company -- in that very building" (Saranov pointed at the towering skyscraper) "may be plotting your ruin, and the dastardly theft of millions of dollars from under your very nose."

There was a pause. "Who does the Service suspect?"

"We don't know yet. But we have a way to find out.... if they do attempt to steal your savings, they're going to have to mount an assault on your bank account. That assault will have to be launched from a computer; and computers can be tracked down and traced to an individual." Saranov produced the laptop and turned it on. "We can install a script that will trace the robbers and give us enough evidence to arrest them."

Akimah was doubtful. "But couldn't they just use a proxy, or launch the attack from someone else's computer, or route it through multiple terminals?"

Saranov smiled. Evidently Akimah was of the weekend computer-literati variety; fortunately, only weekend. "Ah, but this is a script written by the military. It's what prevents people from launching distributed denial of service attacks against this country's computers. It can track the attack through as many as 1,048,575 different computers to its source -- proxies and multiple terminals are no obstacle."

"So how do you install this script?" The figures had evidently impressed Akimah sufficiently.

"Here." Saranov handed him the laptop. "Log into your bank account." Akimah looked doubtful. "Don't worry, this computer is fully secure; it's running on the government satellite network."

Akimah typed something, as Saranov said, "Now, I'll just install the script," took back the laptop, typed a few lines, then waited for a minute and hit Enter, handing the laptop back to Akimah.

"Sign out. The script is now installed, so if anybody gets into your bank account, we'll have a record of who did it." Saranov said.

"Thank you very much," Akimah said. As he began to get out of the car, Saranov leaned close to him once more. "Oh -- and whatever you do, don't tell anyone about this, even if they claim to be policemen. Ordinarily something like this would be handled by the police, you see, but we've got word that this gang has a few members posing as policemen here and there. Never know when you might run into one."

Akimah thanked him again and departed. The car door slammed; Saranov looked up towards Avander. "Well, there you have it. Account number and password are preserved on this laptop, through keylogger; we can call upon his five hundred million quid anytime we wish. All without a drop of blood spilled." Saranov had switched back from the Sooreean accent to his Slavic-accented English. "You may be wondering..... well, I am quite a bit older and more experienced than many of my fellow Sakrianda, and experience has taught me to avoid needless effort. Once we take the money, this man will suspect his fellow executives; and if I wished, I could repeat this performance with each of them, so that the entire company is placed in an uproar and the economy of a nation plummets -- all without a drop of blood."

He smiled, but only with his eyes.

Avander was, well, quiet impressed at the ease which the theft had taken place. "Damn, old man, you REALLY know what your doing. Sorry I even doubted you! Shoot, I haven't seem something that smooth in a long time. I'm not even sure any of more other stuff will even make you get a drop of sweat...nah, I've got at least one more thing I can think of."

With that the car pulled away from the building and manuvered through the streets till they came to a small park with a few benches. Avander parked and motioned for Saranov to get out and follow him, which he did. He walked over to a bench and sat down, Saranov sitting down next to him.

"Well, you've proven you can do thefts easily while under cover - by the way, nicely done on the picture switcherew(sp?). Next up. Lots o' people in this here park. I want you to get as much information as you can from five different people in this park. I want to know their names, where they live, their job, their family if they have any, as much as you can squeeze from them - with out hurting them of course. Who you talk to is up to you. I want to see your persuasion a little more. So, everything clear so far? When your ready, you may begin. But I want to see you finish and back here at this bench in 20 minutes." Avander didn't think it would be a problem, but it also put a little strain on Saranov, just enough to keep him going. Once Saranov left, he thought about getting a local paper. He was something of a news junkie.


ooc: You don't have to do this in RL 20 min., just 20 minutes from when Saranov left the bench, in case you have to leave soon.

Tserax sat quietly. "Parasyte, Render, both of you have finally come. Quite fast, as always. I have an assignment for you, since speed is something the Sakrianda aren't accustomed to." He said, his eyes cold, shivering with an evil icy stare. "Can you do it?"

Render shrugged at the barbed compliment, they'd been fairly close during this operation. That and the car just earned a new share of dents and dings in the process of using some unorthodox driving tactics. It went so much faster when things like "stop signs" or "one way streets" or "pedestrian traffic" was ignored. Slumping into one of the empty pews, (I assume you didn't destroy ALL of them? O.o) he kicked up his feet and crossed them. He just chopped people and ran things down.

Parasyte leaned against the same pew, resting his hands on the wood with a nearly inaudible sigh. They could get through customs fairly easily and efficiently, but if proved a bit costly and would take a bit of time if it was a long or bureaucracy-choked place they were heading. That's where violent-improvisation came in however.

"Ready? Of course. Prepared? Depends what the task is..."

"I need you to kill someone. Though, she's not going to be an easy target. Interested?" Tserax asked.

"Sure, got an address or picture or something? Or is she a bit high profile?", Render was talking now, his head peaked up a little interest. The slight gleam in his near-shut eyes hinted at an excitement. He wanted her to be a hard to reach target, preferably with a small horde of underlings to carve up as well.

Parasyte was a little more composed, a job was a job was a job. Or so the obscure saying seemed to go. He was more interested in details than diving into the thick of it. It'd probably lengthen their life expectancies more than if Render were to drive the speed limit for once. "Is death the only objective? Or am I to make a marionette for awhile?"

"You misunderstand me. I am Tserax Kellesus, and I chose you two. A mission a high ranking covert ops agent would find impossible is easy to you two. This is a difficult mission. Not challenging, not worthwhile, not one that'll break a sweat - difficult. Rashkta Nirandu." He said, putting out a photo. It was quite impressive.

There sat an emotionless, emerald-eyed beauty, with silver locks and long wondrous porcelain white hair, her face sharp with appeal as her lips were full, strong, and vibrant in cherry red. Her nose thin and her eyes slightly drooping in somewhat of a sorrowful pose, she carried the literal meaning of beauty upon those sloping shoulders. However, while she herself was a goddess in her own right, behind her was an interesting contrast - war weapons decorated her wall, blood and bodies lining around her, not touching her as if they were unworthy of her presence, her robes long and flowing like icy water - still clean from the blood upon the concrete floor. A light was dangling above her, and only black shadows cast sneering effigies upon her bosom. Tserax smiled.

"She is the strongest of the Sadicistra, the elite Jenrakian police force. A group of cannibals, they are proficient in all a manner of warfare, and their worth is incredibly high. Her death, should you accept to pursue it, will destroy the Sadicistra leadership, unsettle the fragile government set up by Miriana of the 97 crowns, and plunge the Jenrakian mainland into civil strife." Tserax smiled.

The Leader always managed to put things in such a way to dash Render's small hopes. He always seemed to be a hard-assed kill joy. He'd sat up though to take a closer look at the picture. Softly he ran his finger's over her figure, she could've been artificially created if it wasn't for the very life like eyes she had. The near pinnacle of female perfection embodied there with a lust for combat. His filed teeth grated slightly, cutting open the inside of his cheek and giving him a coppery taste.

"I don't like her..."

Something about her wasn't right. His gut clenched up, he wanted to carve her nearly flawless face up and bludgeon her frame into submission. That she achieved such beauty seemingly naturally despite the hell he'd been through only to come out deformed and twisted. He'd do her slow and painful, no large saws when it came time to kill her. Maybe he'd use a goddamn weed whacker on her.

Render handed the picture back to Parasyte, who paused before studying their prey, "When you put things like that, there isn't much left to guess over our acceptance of the hunt or not. Is she the only casualties acceptable, or are other losses required? And would you happen to have knowledge on their combat proficiencies? Despite being virtually unrivaled, they should favor something over everything else..."

There seemed to be something of a predatory beauty to Rashkta. Render would probably out classed if she was as finesse as her reputation suggested. If there were multiple opponents...it could get fairly ugly. His nanites could prevent death over time, but they wouldn't save him from any kind of a head wound or major damage. But hopefully Leader was simply exaggerating their reputations. Maybe Render would find an exciting match...

"I have further bad news. She has friends. Powerful friends." Tserax said, pulling out another picture. It showed a thin faced man with black messy hair, his eyes like fox-eyes as his face was pale and wiry. He had a long, thin set of lips revealing pearl white teeth, his nose sharp as his slender body was hidden beneath layers of elegant silver silky cloth. Tserax frowned as he saw the picture. "He will be a dangerous opponent to fight. His name is Ishidun Geriuusk, and he is a Menekrungo Vizithkanju, one of the 4 out of eight who were left after their civil war."

Tserax sat down. "Rashkta's Sadicistra are a dangerous force, but they focus mainly on crowd control and anti-guerrilla tactics. They excel at fear movements, but since you two aren't scared of them, it's not a problem. The reason why this mission is extremely difficult are twofold. One," He tapped the picture of Rashkta, "and two." He tapped the picture of Geriuusk. "Perhaps you are familiar with Sakrianda number 3, Sekai Hamruun?" He asked, looking at them. "Ishidun Geriuusk was the man who was Hamruun's former partner. If you need someone to testify on the power and tenacity of these two, you can ask him."

"The Sakrianda find these two entities as a dangerous power to us. Not only do they command vast armies, but Geriuusk and the Menekrungo Vizithkanju and Rashkta Nirandu's Sadicistra have sworn a powerful military allegiance to Miriana of 97. So, not only will you be hunting down a powerful woman with a powerful ally, but if you fail, you will be facing a powerful enemy as well." Tserax said, before smiling. "Then it'll be up to me to clean up the mess. Are you willing to kill her? Knowing what it takes to do it?"

OOC: For some reason I'm reminded by a video game. "Now that you killed her bodyguard...ZOMGZ A NUKE!" xD

IC: "Is this to be done quickly? Or do we have an extended window of time?" The answer was essentially how he'd handle this. One way meant blitzkrieg and planning on sowing as much confusion as physically possible to cripple any resistance before eliminating their targets. The other way would involve a slow process of killing and assimilating her subordinates to get close enough to her to provide the death strike. Both results ended the same, just one is longer and more dangerous, the other slower and more quiet.

His way would also make it so their organizations and allies would be left to believe that her close supporters did the deed and "vanished". It could potentially eliminate huge financial costs in the long run. But then again, time is money.

Render was busy looking at Ishidun, he was odd looking as well. Why were the dangerous ones always different looking? Sometimes it was useful, they stood out amongst the generic herd of sheep. He looked to...thin to be truly dangerous. Creepy, and probably wielding a flimsy dueling weapon yes. When it came push to shove though, he didn't look like he'd last to long against his carbon bladed saws, but the Leader seemed to be expressing very much otherwise...

"You have one year to accomplish this act. More than enough time." Tserax had something up his sleeve, upon which he showed at last. "They have war machines that could be very powerful if I could only get the information regarding them from Rashkta, though obviously, she won't tell anyone she doesn't trust anything. So, your real objective is to get her to spill the information using any means necessary, and then eliminate her before her presence becomes a threat."

"However, would you like their military history? Or am I making them look like too much of an enemy?"

IC: Render shifted, sitting up now with an outstretched hand, this was what he was interested in. How to physically break them, preferably into many, many chopped up pieces. The year long time table was a little troubling, Parasyte would probably use as much of it to be thorough when Render was confident it could be settled in less than a month. "I'll gladly take those if you have them on hand!" His tone was light, as if joyful to read the exploits of other killers.

Parasyte's expression didn't change, but he too was in a positive mood. A year would be plenty of time to accomplish this, and with the extra slack available, even slip ups could be dealt with and disaster avoided. "I believe that can be accomplished, depending on security, in a third of that time. Maybe sooner if a few lucky breaks are made."

"Hopefully. Though right now I can't make my move just yet; Miriana's on the prowl." Tserax said cautiously. It seemed there existed fighters that even Tserax had doubts about. "When he lowers his guard, then you will make your move."

"So a waiting game...estimated time on how long that will take? Or is there something for us to do in the meantime?" Miriana 97. Parasyte hadn't heard of him before, but Tserax's tone indicated he deserved a small amount of respect. Grudgingly, perhaps, but respect none the less. The only problem would be keeping Render occupied. Maybe he could induce epilepsy or something, induce seizures whenever he got to uppity.

"Miriana of the 97 crowns earns his name for defeating 97 clan leaders. I've been trying to get him to join the Sakrianda for a while, though he is quite a stubborn character to talk to. He's friends with Nirandu, and until he backs down, this mission is nigh impossible. In the meantime, I might as well check up on your capabilities." Tserax said, standing up. "You two will have a little sparring game with me." He walked off the podium, down onto the church floor.

Saranov murmured comprehension and meandered off. He spent the first few of the twenty minutes admiring the park itself: high soaring trees, the pleasantly chirping birds, the squirrel dashing inches from his feet in a single splash of red. He looked around at the people who sat everywhere, or walked; many had seated themselves on the benches alongside the broad pathways. Saranov wandered into a circular area, the benches almost full except for a few seats; he chose one beside a pair of middle-aged ladies and proceeded to work himself into their conversation.

As Saranov well knew, that personality type was quite apt to discuss other people, and enjoyed it; therefore, he was able to gather some information simply from listening to them talk. When he explained his Service work, describing it in such a manner as to make him seem like a private detective -- as he had guessed -- they challenged him to deduce information about assorted people. In some cases he was right; in some, wrong, but he was corrected in such instances. By and by he bade his leave of the circle and departed.

Avander might have noticed that Saranov had reached the twenty minute and sixteen second mark; and as he turned a page in his newspaper, a low voice spoke in his ear. "That's my district there, you know."

To make things slightly more interesting, Saranov had done his best to return to the bench without attracting Avander's attention. Not a sound had his feet made on the dry grass; nor had he applied any weight when he rested his hands on the top of the bench to read over his fellow agent's shoulder. Nonetheless, a particularly alert individual could have noticed his presence. Saranov was reading an article entitled Office of Lord Sumguy Bombed.

Saranov moved, still silently, to sit beside Avander once more. "I may be required to return to work quite soon.... how do I get in contact with the Leader to inform him?"

Render didn't really move. There was a slight glint in his squinted eyes, and his feet stirred. Other than that though, no real movement could be detected. He was tensed though, Sakrianda spars were...a bit different than normal sparring. And that's what he was waiting for.

"If that is what you want Leader."

Rising up from the pew, Parasyte stepped into the center of the aisle, running one hand through the divide in the front of his large coat. Letting it hang open, his hands drifted to holsters on his sides. He was ready and waiting for Tserax's opening move.

Saranov murmured comprehension and meandered off. He spent the first few of the twenty minutes admiring the park itself: high soaring trees, the pleasantly chirping birds, the squirrel dashing inches from his feet in a single splash of red. He looked around at the people who sat everywhere, or walked; many had seated themselves on the benches alongside the broad pathways. Saranov wandered into a circular area, the benches almost full except for a few seats; he chose one beside a pair of middle-aged ladies and proceeded to work himself into their conversation.

As Saranov well knew, that personality type was quite apt to discuss other people, and enjoyed it; therefore, he was able to gather some information simply from listening to them talk. When he explained his Service work, describing it in such a manner as to make him seem like a private detective -- as he had guessed -- they challenged him to deduce information about assorted people. In some cases he was right; in some, wrong, but he was corrected in such instances. By and by he bade his leave of the circle and departed.

Avander might have noticed that Saranov had reached the twenty minute and sixteen second mark; and as he turned a page in his newspaper, a low voice spoke in his ear. "That's my district there, you know."

To make things slightly more interesting, Saranov had done his best to return to the bench without attracting Avander's attention. Not a sound had his feet made on the dry grass; nor had he applied any weight when he rested his hands on the top of the bench to read over his fellow agent's shoulder. Nonetheless, a particularly alert individual could have noticed his presence. Saranov was reading an article entitled Office of Lord Sumguy Bombed.

Saranov moved, still silently, to sit beside Avander once more. "I may be required to return to work quite soon.... how do I get in contact with the Leader to inform him?"


Not much going on in the world, Avander saw as he scanned the headlines in the paper. It was a fairly decent one, not too biased one way or another, which is where a paper should be. He was reading about the bombing, and thinking about it some. If only the world knew what was instore.

He had somewhat taken note of Saranov's approach. A good one, he has choosen behind but not directly, in order to make it a little more difficult when turning around. Avander didn't need to. If it hadn't been Saranov but just some thug, well, Avander wanted to keep his skills up, perhaps try out a few new moves.

He turned to Saranov: "Good work, my man. Like how you's got them women-folk to talk to you, very clever. I would think you'd be ready for much anything to come your way, eh? As for contact, usually he contacts us when he wants something done. I guess there are two ways to get in touch: we either drive back, which will take about 30 minutes, or you can contact him with this," Avander said as he handed over his own PDA. "Any reason why this Lord Sumguy's office has to do with you?" Sakrianda or not, Avander did still have a little bit of curiosity in him.

"My eyesight is a bit poor recently." Tserax said, taking out his glasses, tightening the bridge a bit before putting them on. He looked around a bit further, smiling as he opened up his suit, taking out a small dagger. "To be honest, I had difficulty dealing at long range against those with guns, until I found something out." He held the dagger parallel to his shoulders, his right hand dipping low towards his knee. "I heard there was a clan in Krejei that could use swords to cleave bullets." He closed his eyes, thinking softly before opening them again. "Let me see if their style holds true."

A wry smile crossed Parasyte's tanned face. With a deft hand motion her unsnapped them and drew out a pair of throwing knives. He disliked bullets. The holes they left were always annoying to stitch up and cover. Slashes however were much more easily fixed. His left hand twirled it as he extended it, this motion was a distraction method. Tserax would most likely see through it, but the majority of people would pay attention to a moving blade than a stilled one.

And that was when he right swept outward, throwing the blade at him. It was aimed slightly above his center mass, anticipating Render's action. It wasn't anything fancy, simply foreplay to this spar.

However Render wasn't so subtle.

Reaching a hand into his cut, he produced an engine that had a slight black extension. The thing was almost entirely constructed from the carbon material from the DRC. Depressing a button and the blade extended to a length of four feet. A slight pneumatic hiss and a chain of teeth extended. These were his key to success. He sold an actual EWE system, the single most expensive piece of equipment DRC had to offer, to buy these teeth. There wasn't a person nor object he'd met that wouldn't be sawed through.

Standing straight up he pulled out a small rod on the bottom that served as a hilt, making the chainsaw rev up, filling the church with a throaty pur. Render lashed out with his booted foot as he came out, kicking a pew and making it tumble towards Tserax.

"So many at once." Tserax said, stretching out his arms as he smashed the blades away with his dagger, looking down at the shadow of the approaching man before a mass of a rectangular behemoth of an object scrambled towards him, Tserax grabbing it's end with one hand, tightening his shoulder as he gained control over it. Looking at Parasyte right in the eyes, his irises were blood red, changed from the black obsidian shimmer they once were. "I will demonstrate the reasoning behind my name." He said, holding the pew out, swishing it slowly around, a sphere of dust generating around him.

"I want you to learn from my demonstration, of the Segundo Universo." He waited silently, quietly, waiting for the blade to come. It would not pierce into his world, for within his arm's reach, within this sphere of control that stretched a mere feet and a half, he was God. No, perhaps not. "Feed off of this demonstration, and try to learn how this is accomplished. This, in all respects, is a lesson in my fighting style. Learn so you can one day destroy me. Because right now, you cannot without it." He was greater than God. It was his realm, his own universe.

And no amount of technology could split the universe.

"aha! we'll see if you're kindling like everyone else is!"

There was a brief kick up of dust that billowed in his wake. Render's coat flapped about, weighted down by a variety of smaller implements he sometimes needed to use. Basic tools for room breaching and clearing, and some for personal interrogations he performed to turn someone into a piece of art.

He had the weapon swinging in a downward arc to cleave Tserax in two pieces, and the weapon was more than capable of it.Barring whatever trickery he had up his sleeve. It glinted the nearby lights off its polished surface poorly, being of a carbon material it didn't reflect terribly well. However it did enough to show that Parasyte had yet to move.

He was contemplating his odds, based on the outcome of Render's small scuffle. It was just a spar, no need to waste one-time use gear, but who they were sparring might stress otherwise. Decisions, decisions.

"How gracious of you to gift us with such a demonstration..."

Looking down briefly at the knives in his hands, he started to bleed slightly, coating the shiny metal with his crimson vein. And more importantly the small devices inside of it. While they had a limited lifespan outside of his body, they'd have a good chance of eating Tserax's blade should they come into contact...

"My suit is now covered in dust." Tserax said angrily, looking at Render's machine whir, his eyes flashing around as he listened to it, thinking swiftly as his mind calculated the speed of the teeth running along its edge, his dagger prepared when in a swift, complete motion, Tserax lunged his dagger up, but not in defense, but in complete and utter stab that allowed it to cut up into the slits of his blade, digging his dagger deep into it's crevice, closing his eyes. "You have an impressive sword." He said, holding his dagger steady, making sure it did not move from the tiny inner slits of Render's sword where the minuscule teeth jettisoned out.

"If I had block, I would have surely died. If I had dodged it, I would have been attacked again and could not counter attack. However," He held his dagger strong, blocking with the small space that only slightly touched the careful parts within. "although your sword may be unbreakable, for a blade that thin, you cannot have a powerful engine without lengthening it considerably to make up for the lack of width. So, once something gets in the space between the teeth, your gears lose power due to the lack of net force on your part."

"Dangerous weapons you have, but know that by coming in my universe you take a risk." His free hand pointing at the stomach of Render, Tserax's index finger pointed straight at Render's stomach. "Bang." He said quietly.

Render gritted his teeth as his chainsaw made a slightly annoying squealing noise while Tserax explained what just occurred. He didn't quite understand it all, he just knew that the weapon stopped cutting because he managed to jam it or something. When Tserax's free hand started moving, he gave up trying to press down with his weapon and jerked it back while he flicked his right hand towards the pointed one. It wouldn't be smart to ignore it, seeing that he could pull off things like that.

With a swift ripping and flash, a foot long blade slashed out from a wrist-mounted device. He had another one on his hand, and tended to use them whenever something stopped his main weapon, or if he needed a quick attack or defense.

Parasyte paused for a second. Tserax wasn't normal. Not by a long shot. The feat he jsut accomplished would make Parasyte's attacks much more likely to hit Render than be of any use to either of them. However he cautiously began to circle the melee, to give him a fairly good shot at Tserax when Render backed off.

Tserax looked at the blade, his dagger in the stomach of Render's sword. "This is interesting. Though what if you're stripped bare and thrown into a prison? How will you get out?" Tserax asked, his index finger tensing up, shaking slightly as he moved his right hand around with uncontrollable speed. "Let me expand my universe." Immediately, his right hand darted to his waist, shifting the tips of his suit aside as a hilt was revealed with a long silver handle, Tserax unsheathing it quickly with his right hand.

However, the blade did not simply come out - it lit up into flames, the licking, crying dancing souls of fire billowing like madness around the silver blade. It gave off an unbearable heat, but Tserax was unaffected by the throbbing fiery atmosphere he was engulfing his universe in. It did not touch him; he had more control over the flames that it looked. "What is the goal of the Sons of Sagacity?" He asked, skull-like effigies screaming in torment as they were released from the blackness of the sheath of his sword.

"I'll fucking break as many necks with my bare hands! Shit like that is best elft up to him."

Render ripped his sword-chainsaw away, possibly taking the dagger with it. Blades he could deal with, guns up close he could handle. Flames with his dexterity was a different game however, one that wouldn't end to well. He halted next to the small podium where a preacher would've stood, bracing a foot against one side her gripped the long piece of cloth covering it.

When Render made moves to disengage, a trio of blood-coated blades flew through the air towards Tserax. Just one hit would be needed and things could swing in their favor. The sword, and arm, his clothing. Something good could result, IF he hit.

"The objective of Sakrianda, is the destruction of order and those who keep it in place."

"Exactly." Tserax said. "The continued survival of the philosophy that bears true in all our hearts. We are the heroes of the age, the ones who will eliminate the weak so that only the strong live, and our perfect race of people are complete. When fallen into chaos, there comes strength. The chaotic evolution of mankind is our goal." He looked at the blades, smiling. "You must consider the use of flames."

The blades did not hit him, but rather only slightly was a few millimeters away from his suit, continuing their path as Tserax closed his eyes. "Enough." Tserax said, closing his sword as the flames that once so viciously roared were silenced in a fraction of an instance. Sheathing his sword, Tserax was slightly thinner than his image had made out to be, and he took his glasses off, cleaning them gently as he brushed the little specks of dirt off his suit. "Fire's main potency is not in the flames it makes, but the specters that are summoned from its tongue. The smoke that rises either does one of two things, provide cover making difficult for an opponent to see you, or emanates remnants of the fuel it feeds upon to distort the image of one on the other side of the flame. What you saw, was a larger, wider, taller me, though that was because of the emanating gas from the fire. As the thin mirror of the desert generates the sky, fire can generate a thin mirror that distorts the eye. That is the real power of fire." Tserax said.

"Do you understand what I am trying to tell you?"

"The use of flames, or chaos. Can make us to appear stronger, more ever present, and more successful than we truly are. Which will simply cause a spread of confusion and fear...right? On the other hand, do the flames not distort your perception of the other side as well?"

OOC: Sorry my psot sucked. I jsut kind of reached a dead end x.x Sorry

"Why are you here?" Tserax said, looking at the two. "Are you having doubts? That the path you have chosen may be the wrong one?" He shook his head in disapproval. "There is no right or wrong in this world. Only favored and disfavored. We are controlled by the notions of society, the stagnancy of weakness and helplessness. It matters not whether this world be an illusion or not, but if you are adamant in your decision, would it not be the best way to deal with things?" He raised the sword, throwing it at them before sitting down. "Now, do you wish to hear of your job?"

OOC: Sorry for my lack of posting. I got slammed with hours at my job Dx

IC:

Render cut Parasyte off from talking further. If those two kept debating or talking for any longer, he'd probably wind up chopping off a few of Parasyte's limbs and bludgeoning someone to death with them.

"Yeah, assassinate that one chick in a year, right?"

"There are two foes; Rashkta Nirandu, and Ishidun Geriuusk. Rashkta is going to be attending a meeting in Nakros Soremnuk within a few weeks, and Ishidun Geriuusk will be attending a meeting in Nakros Heidhakros. Since they'll be separated in a few weeks, that will give you an opportune moment to strike." Tserax explained, looking at the two. "Rashkta will bring her guards along, the Whitecoats. They shouldn't be too much of a threat as long as you ensure they don't come together, but if they do, expect an annoyance of an opponent."

"Additionally, Ishidun Geriuusk has his own personal vanguard of troops that protect him, the Menekruth. Although they're skilled, they're more elite troops amongst the Menekrungo as a whole, and thus are not as much of a threat towards you two as the Whitecoats would be. Now, I advise you not to draw attention to yourselves, since this mission will require utmost delicacy. I have already received word from the Fox Lord that Dollface has failed in his assassination attempt in Sumguaia, so if you should fail this, there will be dire consequences. Understood?"