Snakes, Poison, Dark Gods, The Usual.

OOC: I noticed in your other RP’s that you write your posts from the first person view. That seemed pretty neat to me, so I’m going to try it with this RP. Writing from Gorin’s point of view should be twisted, sick, a tad perverted, and most of all, fun. : P

Wasn't sure where you wanted this, so I stuck it here.

BIC: In most cases, my presence in a town is a sign that the life expectancy rate has just taken a severe drop. This town wouldn’t have the same problems as past towns, however. I wasn’t here to kill, mutilate, rape, or any combination of the three. I was here in search of somebody.

You see, I’d heard that the Cult of Darissa had a strong presence in the town. Normally I don’t bother to associate myself with cults. If you aren’t worshipping me, then you are no different than any other human. That is, unless you worship a god or goddess I can relate to.

Darissa and I have a few parallels. She is supposedly very beautiful, and I myself am one hot dark god. I was putting that modestly, by the way. We are also both power hungry. I believed that it would be easy to find common ground with Darissa’s cult. Cultists tend to be useful allies.

So I entered the town, and forgot the name within two minutes of seeing the, “Welcome to -” sign. Way to leave an impression. If your town’s name doesn’t even keep a visitor’s interest, then what’s the point of having a name?

Anyway, as I was saying, I entered the town and headed for the nearest bar. I’ve found that bars and inns are the two top places to visit in any new town. Any information you could ever want can be obtained by either asking drunks or prying the fingernails off of inn keepers.

The bar was the typical rundown piece of **** you usually see. It had a faded sign, peeling paint, and a drunk human passed out in his own vomit. And that was just the outside. The inside was even worse!

There wasn’t much to the inside. A dirty counter with a few stools and a couple tables. That was about it. Humans were all over the place. A poker-playing group shot a glance my way when I walked in. One of them snickered and muttered something about my hair, and I took a mental picture of his face for future use.

I sat down at the counter and the bartender looked at me with his good eye. Yes, his good eye. This pathetic human had a lazy eye that kept staring at the floor while his good eye picked up the slack. Just another disgusting imperfection on an already flawed being.

“What can I do you for?” the bartender asked. I ignored his grammar butchering and ordered a beer. The chubby human waddled off to grab a glass, and I took a look at my fellow bar flies. Mostly ugly, stinking drunks, but there were a few women wandering about. Hookers, I assumed. Something else to add to my mental folder for future use.

When the bartender came back with a fresh glass of beer I cut to the chase. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about the Cult of Darissa, would you?” I asked.

He shook his head, second chin jiggling, and said that he had no idea what he was talking about. I could smell bull ****, but I didn’t push it. I just drank my beer and pictured myself disemboweling everybody around me. Such thoughts are always entertaining, I think.

“Does anybody here know about the Cult of Darissa?” I asked after I’d finished my beer, standing up so that everybody in the bar knew I was directing the question at all of them. Murmurs and head shaking were my answer, and the bull **** in the room grew.

A few people left after my question. I could only assume that they were affiliated with the cult, and were reporting to a superior about the stranger with the questions. That could’ve been wishful thinking on my part, though.

OoC: Ah, a dark setting already ^^ I can't actually write in first person for Nerine...yet. Still should be good, though...

BiC:

"Milady." Sphen, one of the more rough edged members of Nerine's reconnaissance group, bowed before the dark woman as she stood facing away from him. For a moment, it seemed as if the black haired woman hadn't heard him, fondly stroking the head of a brown adder. In the dark room, it was difficult to see even her form, but Sphen could hear the slithering and rattling of the numerous snakes littered around the floor. He was standing in Nerine's own personal quarters, perhaps the most dangerous place in the entire hideout of the cult. No one really knew what went on in the black room, but no one had the curiosity to find out. All Sphen could make out was the form of a large bed, whose lustrous silk covers shone faintly in the tiny candle light by Nerine's gold plated vanity. There were a few shiny objects littered on the long desk, one which Sphen recognized as lipstick. There were other fine chests and tables throughout the large room, many of which were occupied by snakes of every color and size.

"Report." Nerine spoke sharply, her voice making the snakes hiss threateningly at the invasive man.

"All is at normal status, Milady, save for a traveler who I found at a bar. He boldly asked for information about our group." Sphen kept his voice low, trying hard to hide his panic as he felt something sliver over his boot. He knew better than to kick it away; there were few better ways to insult Nerine.

"Is that so?" Nerine's tone softened slightly, more curious than annoyed. "I assume he's actually worth something if you didn't kill him on the spot."

"He had runic symbols tattooed on his body, and carried a very strong aura of darkness. In perfect truth, Milady, his dark power felt much like yours, touched by a god." Sphen spoke the last sentence with great nervousness, knowing that merely referring to Darissa could instill Nerine's wrath.

"The power of a god?" Nerine snorted with disdainful laughter. She finally turned to face Sphen, her swirling eyes piercing into his. "Few mortals walk the earth with such power. After a mere glance you dare compare his power to Darissa's?"

"M-M-Milady, please, I only meant--"

"Yes, I know exactly what you meant, Fool." The dark woman suddenly smiled, her perfectly white teeth gleaming maliciously at him. "My dear, dear, Sphen, you needn't worry. If all is as you say, then this stranger must indeed be important. Tell me now, what else have you learned of him?" Nerine drew close to the pale man as she softly spoke, her fingers gliding on the edge of his right shoulder as she circled around him.

Sphen held his breath for a moment, trying to keep his fear from showing as she touched him. "I was unable to gather any more information, Milady. I left right after the man spoke to report."

"Idiot!" Nerine's hand suddenly went rigid, her dark purple nails digging into his shoulder. "You wretched, imbecilic man! You left? After identifying this man as a dark touched mortal, you simply ran off? He speaks of our cult as if he were inquiring after a baker's shop, and you leave him unchallenged? Not even another man to follow the idiot! You stupid excuse for a thief!" The dark woman seemed to hiss more than speak, her snakes eagerly slithering to what could soon become their prey.

"P-please, Milady!" Sphen fell to his knees, panic overtaking him. Death was near, and Nerine's pets could sense it. "I-I didn't l-l-leave with nothing!" The shaking man bowed his head, raising his hand to offer something up to Nerine. She snatched the contents of his hand with a vicious swipe, her nails digging into his soft flesh. Gazing at the object in her hand, she suddenly smiled again, the air around her becoming calm.

"Ah, a hair of our stranger? How thoughtful." She stroked the tiny black hair in her palm thoughtfully, her eyes far away and unfocused. Sphen remained silently cowering at her feet, hoping the insignificantly small thing would save his life. After a moment, Nerine sneered cruelly down at him, then turned away dismissively. "Get out of my sight, fool. It seems in your stupidity you managed to do something right, so your life will be spared...for now. One more careless act, Sphen, and I will not be so kind."

"Y-yes, Milady." Sphen obediently went to the door, holding his breath to keep his panic in. He closed the door behind him and stared at the floor, only to find that there were two small bite marks that had punctured through his boot.

"Maria." Nerine looked to one of the dark corners after Sphen had left, where a shadow had been hiding. A small, deathly pale girl suddenly stepped into the light, her light blue eyes dim with emptiness. She did not answer Nerine, but that did not upset the dark woman. Nerine knew better than anyone that the small girl couldn't answer her, for the black haired creature had her tongue cut out. Being in need of a slave that would bring her no trouble, Nerine had taken the pitiful girl in, treating her better than every other member of the cult.

"My sweet girl," Nerine purred, gently patting the creature's head, "go fetch Darius for me." The girl obediently nodded and left, her feet moving silently across the cold floor. After the girl was gone, the dark woman turned to her vanity, gazing silently into its large mirror. She could see her fine figure from the waist up, her fair skin appearing smooth and glossy in the gentle light of the candle. Reaching her hand toward the glass, Nerine placed her palm inches away the flawless surface, holding the dark hair between her fingers. Closing her eyes, she began to chant her spell, focusing on the essence emanating from stolen hair.

"Prepeerio vave mayha!" Nerine practically hissed the words, exciting her snakes. In her mind's eye, she rushed past the solid black walls of her hidden fortress and into the city, moving through the dark streets like a ghost. The pull of the hair brought her to a filthy bar, where dirty men were guzzling beer and gambling off what stolen money they had. Her view finally settled in the shadow of a table, gazing directly at a black haired man sitting at a bar. His figure was impressive, both tall and muscular. He wore a dark red shirt, which matched tastefully with his pants. As Sphen had said, the man also had extensive tattoos, all of which were runic symbols. Definitely some sort of magic user, but even the best were not able to detect Nerine's scrying spell. Still, she kept her magic at a distance, just in case the fool had sharper senses than he appeared to have.

"Milady." Darius's smooth voice sounded from behind her, followed by the sound of a closing door. She turned her head with a broad smile, taking her time to admire the fine man before her. Darius was one of her more handsome assassins, as well as one of the best. He always kept his dark brown hair neatly combed, and his fine white shirt was never stained. He also had a more aristocratic sense of style and manners, making him one of the finer members of the cult. What Nerine really liked him for, however, was his unmatched skill in assassination. When he wanted a man dead, they were dead, and no one had a trace to follow who had committed the murder. Because of this, he was the captain of the cult's group of assassins, who he took personal charge over.

"Tell me, Darius, what do you think of the man in my mirror?" She stood aside so he could peer into it, an amused smile on her face.

The assassin's keen green eyes swept over to the mirror, taking in every small detail of it. "Definitely a man of dark intentions to be in the Bloodwine pub. No fear, the sign of an experienced warrior. The tattoos suggest some sort of dark magic, teeth are too sharp to be merely a human. He's most likely a cursed human."

"This man speaks of our cult." Nerine sweetly murmured, gently fingering the edges of her mirror. "I want him dead."

"Then it shall be done." Darius tilted his head in a respectful bow, waiting only to be dismissed.

"Be sure to use discretion, Darius. I've had enough foolish behavior for today." Nerine smiled cruelly as she spoke, her mind wandering to the corpse that was no doubt just beyond her door.

"As you wish." Darius strode out of the room without another word, his demeanor cold. Already in his mind, a plan was forming. He would oversee this task himself, bringing along two other men. The assassin had already ruled out the idea of using poison; that was too obvious. A direct assault would also call too much attention to himself. No, he would get the man drunk, then slit his throat in his drunken slumber. Discrete and quick, just as Nerine wished...

OOC: Writing first-person feels odd. XD

I think I’ll alternate between first and third person every few posts.

BIC: Gorin remained in the bar for quite some time. A steady flow of alcohol kept him content. He was sure that his plan was already in motion. If anybody in the bar had anything to do with the cult they would’ve surely reported his inquiry by now.

“Hello there Stranger,” a voice said behind the dark god. Kaja slowly turned around. Three men stood behind him. Two of them looked like common thieves, and were of no interest to him. The third, however, looked quite out of place in this bar. His dark brown hair was neatly combed, and he wore a fairly nice looking shirt.

“Hello yourself, Stranger,” Gorin replied. He turned back to his latest beer and noticed a fleeting look of recognition and unease in the bartender’s face. The large man quickly covered up his moment of tension by asking the three men what they’d like to drink.

“I’ll have your strongest drink. So will my friend here,” the brown-haired man said, sitting next to the dark god and placing a hand on Gorin’s shoulder. The man’s fellows both ordered beers, and the bartender set about his task.

Kaja finished his beer and looked at his benefactor. With an arched eyebrow he said, “Thank you, whoever you are. Why are you buying me a drink, though?”

The brown-haired man laughed and offered his hand. Gorin shook it as the man explained, “My name is John Smith. My friends and I are traveling across the countryside, and we figured you were a fellow traveler. You don’t look like any of the barflies in here. I apologize if I’m wrong, friend.”

Gorin’s facial features were the exact opposite of his thoughts. A smile on the outside, a scowl on the inside. Who was this guy trying to fool? He’d seen the look on the bartender’s face, and John Smith is a fake alias that everybody and their mother has used! Still, he decided to play along for now and see where this took him.

“No apology required, John. I am a traveler from Tybalt. My name is Gorin Kaja,” Gorin replied, breaking the handshake. “Perhaps you’ve heard of me?”

“I’m sorry, but I have not. Should I have?” ‘John’ asked. That ruled out the possibility that his existence was widespread knowledge around the cult. Unless ’John’ was lying, anyway. He didn’t seem to be lying.

“Just wondering. I used to be a very successful merchant, you see. A shipping company in Tybalt, several shops and stands, the works. I took up my money and set out to travel around the world,” Gorin explained. Ordinarily he’d be fairly blatant about his true identity and godhood. If this ‘John’ character wasn’t going to be honest, neither would he.

The bartender brought the men their drinks. Gorin and ‘John’s drinks sharply contrasted with the dark brown beers that the brown-haired man’s fellows were about to consume. Gorin and ‘John’ were given light blue drinks with a fruity aroma.

“I’ve heard of these before. They’re made out of a special fruit,” ‘John’ said, picking up his drink and looking at it. “It’s supposedly native only to this region. The juices allow the body to more freely absorb alcohol, from what I’ve heard.”

“You heard right,” one of the brown-haired man’s fellows piped up. “I had a few of those the last time I came through here, and I was royally ♥♥♥♥ed up. I woke up the next day with the hangover of my life!”

All four men laughed and set about drinking.

~

Two hours and a copious amount of alcoholic beverages later, and everybody was drunk out of their wits. Or so it seemed. ‘John’ and his fellows were not drunk at all. The beers were alcohol-free, and his own drinks were nothing more than fruit juice. Gorin’s, on the other hand…

“Again!” Gorin yelled, laughing. He and ‘John’ played a game of rock, paper, scissors, with Kaja losing. As part of the drinking game they’d established, he chugged down another glass of the blue liquid.

“I think you’ve… I think you’ve had enough, man,” ‘John’ said, swaying back and forth on his stool. Gorin nodded his head and belched. His breath smelled of fruit juice and alcohol. ‘John’ and his friends helped Kaja up and staggered out of the bar.

The three of them had to drag the dark god to an alley two blocks away after he passed out. They sat him against a wall and Darius opened up a nearby trashcan. Sitting on top of the trash was a knife, right where he’d left it. As he was unsheathing the blade he heard a ruckus behind him.

“Hello there Stranger,” Gorin said. The assassin quickly turned around to look at his target. One of the men who’d accompanied him leaned against the wall with blood dribbling out of his mouth, dead. The other man was flat on his back with Kaja’s foot on his throat.

“That was pretty smooth, Johnny. Pretty damn smooth,” the dark god said, steadily adding pressure to the foot on the man’s throat. Darius watched as his subordinate’s neck was slowly crushed. Gorin ignored the dying man and continued to speak, informing Darius, “Alcohol has almost no effect on my kind. I drink for the taste, mortal. Now be a nice human and go tell your superiors that I’m interested in meeting them.”

He stomped on his prey’s head and gave Darius a cold smile before leaving in search of an inn.

Luckily for Darius, Nerine was more amused by his report than annoyed. She had been sitting in Darissa's chapel, watching the priests perform their prayers when her assassin suddenly rushed in, looking as frazzled and cowardly as ever. Just that singular glance told Nerine he had failed, and she sighed, gently stroking the back of her taipan snake, whose slick brown body was curled around the arm of her chair.

"Milady." Darius knelt before her feet, the deepest sign of humility he could muster.

"My dear, dear, Darius, why have you disappointed me? You know how much it pains me to loose my good thieves." Nerine's voice was mockingly compassionate, the purple color in her eyes the most prominent in the dim glow of the candles. Against the damp stone wall beside her, Darissa's cloaked priests were still murmuring quietly. She preferred this even when she was conducting business, for she saw no reason for her dark goddess to be far from her.

Not daring to even raise his eyes to her, Darius replied softly, "Milady, the man you sent me to kill...he is no mortal."

Nerine raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching downward into a frown. "And you were not aware of this before I sent you to kill him?"

Darius bit his lip, clearly ashamed. "I was, Milady."

"Then why," The dark woman leaned forward in her chair, glaring icily into Darius, "have you come cowering before me to tell me what I already know?" Beside her, the snake hissed threateningly down at him.

Darius bowed his head lower, as if her gaze itself was bearing him down. "Milady, when I attempted to kill the man, who calls himself Gorin Kaja, he killed two of my men. I made sure that he consumed a ludicrous amount of alcohol for any man, but when we attempted to kill him, he was not drunk in the least. Milady, he told me that alcohol had no affect on his kind, and called me a human. I did not expect that he was something more than a mortal."

"And what else did he tell you?" Nerine asked with faux interest as she curled a dark strand of her midnight hair around her finger.

"He claimed to be a wealthy merchant from Tybalt, and said that he..."

Darius's speech became nothing more than trivial drawl as Darissa's own sweet voice suddenly sounded in Nerine's mind. "Hmm...found himself a new body, has he? I never cared much for the fool, and he only has a portion of a power that never belonged solely to him. Such is the way with chaotic gods. They deserve to rot in the pile of rubbish they create with their own foolish antics."

"And what would you have me do with him, my queen?"

Darissa laughed softly in Nerine's mind, pleasantly amused. "What would you do with a mindless weapon, my dear Nerine? I perceive that he only seeks to add my power upon his own, being the blood thirsty fool that he is. Still...he may prove useful for my own purposes. Every sword has a hilt, no matter how destructive it is. Test him of his worthiness, Nerine, and we will see if his power is worthy of mine."

"As you wish, my queen." Nerine focused herself back into the room as Darissa's presence faded again. Her priests had become silent, as they had felt it, too, and poor Darius silently knelt there, perfectly aware that he was very much out of place. Nerine glared down at him disgustedly, but decided against sending her precious snake to kill him. He was still, after all, her best assassin.

"You make a fool out of me and this cult, Darius, and preserving your life only exemplifies this foolishness. If you do not rectify this mistake with better service to Darissa, rest assured, Darius, that your life will end. For now, it shall rest on the tip of a knife." Nerine rested back in her chair as she said this, leaning against its luxurious cushions. With a dismissive wave of her hand, she sent the assassin off, slightly disappointed at what would have been a very satisfying kill.

"My mirror, Winson." Nerine gently beckoned to one of the monks with her right hand, her fine skin gleaming coldly in the dim light. Immediately, the cloaked figure closest to her scurried over to a black corner of the room, bringing to her a large glass sphere. This was held up by a black metal pole, formed to look like entwined snakes. It had been carefully crafted to reach about four feet high, just enough so that Nerine could peer down in it comfortably.

With great silence and little ceremony, the priest placed the frightening pole before her, then bowed and took his place back with the monks. Each of their eyes were fixed intently on her, but none of them dared to speak. Nerine smiled sweetly at them from the comfortable recess of her chair, her lips curving up into a malevolent smile.

"Look now, devout followers, and behold the fountain from which blood and chaos springs!" As the priests leaned forward to watch, Nerine bent over the glass orb, her hands coming within inches to either side of it. In her right hand, she held the hair of Gorin, mind of the creature who had once been the god of wrath. She whispered her spell to the inanimate object, and it immediately came to life, a dark fog appearing within its transparent depths. As she focused on the hair's dark essence, the black fog began to thicken, and within it flowed formless shadows. This eventually thickened and expanded until the whole orb was dark, and after a moment, a light began to appear within it. The image was fuzzy at first, but just as before, Nerine felt her mind pulled through the city until she reached another building, this time an inn.

"Far better choice than the first, Gorin." Nerine murmured to herself. The dark man was walking into a large brick building, with the words "Cherrie Inn" engraved on a wooden sign by the door. The cruel woman knew it to be an inn of good quality, where the rooms were clean and the ale hearty. It was a favorite place for most commoners, who often stopped by to discuss the day's work. The place was also good for new travelers, which Nerine knew Gorin was not. Such a quaint story he had invented, being a merchant and all. Only a fool could believe a smile from that man was real.

With a careless wave of her hand, the image in the orb rippled, then disappeared back into black fog. This dissipated quickly within the orb, until there was nothing remarkable about the thing. With a resigned sigh, Nerine leaned her elbow against the arm of her chair, resting her chin in it and stroking her taipan again. "No doubt Gorin awaits us. Yes, he knows we cannot ignore him, not a man of such nature as he. What do you think he wishes of me, my pet? A truce? A spell? A kiss?" Nerine spoke the last word almost like a hiss, her laughter cold. "I shall not disappoint him."

The poisonous snake looked up as Nerine stood, following the motion with its head. Again, Nerine waved, and this time the same priest took her orb and placed it back in the corner. Each of the cloaked men nodded at her as she strode across the room, asking only for Winson to follow her. As the young man walked silently behind her, she barked out her orders.

"Get me my horse as fast as your feet can carry you. Fetch my cloak as well." Nerine didn't even turn to face the man, but she heard his heavy feet plod down the dark hallway after her request. Moments later, she reached the front platform of her home, where her black horse was waiting for her. The man holding it had her cloak hung about his arm, and he silently offered it to her as she strode out into the night air. She took it without a word and tied it about her shoulders, then gracefully mounted her beast. With a singular word, she set the horse into motion, and she was soon trotting down the streets of Garrock, the home of her cult.

While Nerine's true identity was a mystery to all outside of her cult, she still held a great reputation within the town. She was known as the generous daughter of a rich merchant, whose fine goods provided relief to the poor of the city. As she rode her horse through the dark streets, those that recognized her tipped their hats or bowed respectfully, some even smiling at the dark woman. She nodded at them in return, waving sweetly to those who saw her. In mere minutes, she was just outside of the inn where she knew Gorin was waiting.

"Dear Nerine, may I help you?" A balding man in his thirties immediately came to Nerine as she prepared to dismount, offering his hand to her. She took it with faux gratitude, smiling kindly at the man's hideously wrinkled face.

"Ah, John, how is your family? I pray your fortune has increased since last I saw you." Nerine patted the man's grimy hand fondly as he let her down from her horse.
.
"It is with great thanks to you, Nerine that my wife is better. I don't know what would have happened had you not lent us enough money for a doctor."

Nerine smiled compassionately, allowing the bumbling man to escort her to the inn. "Such good news! You know I would never hesitate to do a kindness to a man of good nature like you."

"May the goddesses watch closely over you." John bowed his head and turned to leave, going back to whatever foolish business he had been up to. Nerine waved at him as he left, sweetly bidding him goodbye. She then went her own way, walking into the inn with all the gait of a sun filled maiden. As she walked in, the inn keeper greeted her with a cheerful cry, running to her with the filthy trails of his apron flowing after him.

"Nerine, it's good to see you! Come for a good drink?" The brown haired man winked at her, a joke clearly playing in his eyes.

"Come now, Erik, you know I do not drink. Such is most unbecoming for any good lady." Nerine spoke with honeyed innocence, picturing the inn keepers face if she told him she much preferred venom.

"Ah, of course. I wouldn't dare dull that lovely smile of yours!" The man, quite suddenly and without warning, leaned towards Nerine, lowering his voice. "Now you be careful, Nerine. A man can't choose his customers, but I recommend you stay away from that fellow over yonder." Erik nodded his head towards a tattooed man sitting at a corner table in the room.

"I will take great care, Erik. You needn't worry for me." Nerine patted Erik's arm reassuringly, then smiled as he turned to go about his other business. She could feel Gorin's eyes on her already, his dark presence almost suffocating. Yes, he was a man of great power, Nerine could already feel that. But this she already knew. Darissa wanted her to test him, and test him she would.

For one fraction of a second, Nerine let her mask drop, meeting Gorin's gaze with a wicked smile. He would truly be a fool if he could not feel the dark power of Darissa emanating from her. She did not speak to him, or make any sign that she had come for him, but instead waved enticingly at him, then turned to skip out of the inn. Misleading him was only the first part, for she fully expected him to follow. She couldn't risk a direct confrontation with him in a small and populated building, so she went down a deserted alleyway just a little ways down the street. The dark woman then turned and waited at the end of it, preparing to invoke the first of her dark spells. As soon as she saw his form step into the alleyway, she whispered her spell as quickly as her lips would move.

"Steniss, protrificus malunus!" Nerine raised her right arm, five sharp blades rising in alignment beneath it. She pointed at Gorin with silent authority, and the blades went whizzing straight towards his shadowed form.

OoC: Sooo...whadda ya think? Very long X.X

OOC: Wow. That is a long post. XD

BIC: “All I need to do is wait. They should send somebody other than a lowly human assassin this time. That was a complete insult,” Gorin thought, taking a sip of his drink. He’d chosen a seat at a corner table so that he could easily see who came and went. Unless a cult member was already waiting for him, he’d see any possible assassins enter.

After a short while he heard the whiny of a horse outside. The inn keeper, a dirty and paranoid man who’d been eyeing the dark god for a while, quickly made his way to the door to greet the inn’s newest arrival. Kaja smiled before he even saw the newcomer. Whoever it was, darkness seemed to flow off of them.

Gorin looked at the source of the darkness. A cloaked woman was talking to the inn keeper. Judging by the man’s body movements, he was warning her about his dark patron. Kaja watched the inn keeper meander off to attend to his business, and then focused his gaze on the woman.

He was happy to learn that this wasn’t just another measly assassin. Gorin’s gaze was met by a wicked smile and an enticing wave before the woman left. The dark god finished his drink and then stood up to follow her.

“Excuse me sir, but aren’t you spending the night?” the inn keeper asked on Gorin’s way out. The tattooed deity shot the inn keeper a snarl. Now that he had the cult’s true attention, he needn’t care for the humans in this town. If it weren’t for the need to follow the woman, he’d slaughter everybody in the inn.

Gorin followed the woman’s dark presence into an alleyway. With his first step came his first surprise. Five dark blades flew at him, directed by the woman. Kaja generated a broadsword and shattered the blades with a horizontal swipe, looking at the woman with a smirk.

“Is that any kind of greeting to give a god? Tsk tsk.”

OoC: He LIVES!

BiC:

“Not bad…for a fallen god.” Nerine answered with a sneer. He had been somewhat quicker than she had expected, but his prowess was not unexpected in the least. In her right hand, her gleaming rapier was already drawn, but she did not take an aggressive posture. Instead, the blade rested easily at her side, no more threatening than if it had been a bouquet of flowers.

“I thought it reasonable that you receive the best greeting according to your behavior. One does not tempt the goddess of darkness by speaking her name with such disregard.” Nerine then sheathed her sword, flipping her hood back with a flippant hand. “But if you wish to talk reasonably, there may yet be more to speak of than your death.”