The Eagle waited in the shadows of Sigil, slowly patterning out the movements of the Harmonium. They moved with a rigid order, no step out of place, no innovation, no deviation. It was child's play, really, and after mere minutes, the whole pattern of the guard was neatly laid out.
Reaching above, the Eagle grabbed onto an awning, and swung up onto the roof of the building. The shingles felt cool and rough, but provided for a firm rest. Slithering along the edge, it took a bit of time to get to the apex. As the guards made their predictable stops and movements, the Eagle too would stop and move, patterning movements off the prey that was hunted.
It wasn't just any guard that was being hunted, however. It was one known for a vicious streak a mile wide. A limp marked him, and perhaps the torture he would inflict on others was his own way of striking back at the world that cursed him.
It didn't matter, however. For the world, through the Eagle, would plague him no more. The Eagle steadily tracked this guard as he came into range. Waiting for him to be well lit, aim shifted toward the man's head.
______________
No one saw where it came from, but the Harmonium guard was found laying on the ground, a crossbow bolt just above and forward of his ear. The guard served as his own alarm, as his death-throws made his armor clatter on the cobbles. As soon as it started, so it ended. The guard was no more, his body still, his blood barely leaving a mark on the ground. The bolt simply had a note tied to it, which said in a clear bold script:
THUS ALWAYS TO TYRANTS
The Eagle was never found.
A Shot Rings Out
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*Midnight
- Posts: 870
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
It was some time until he the body was found by a second patrol. He lay on his back on the cobbles the lightly acidic damp of rain water covering both him and the street. The full helm he wore was shattered by the bolt leaving the bloody mess of his ruined temple visible where the projectile had shattered both flesh and bone. The small back street in which he lay was still and silent the only noise the approaching foot falls of the two guards who picked him up.
He had never been a popular man not even amongst his fellow hardheads but he had been respected and there was a growing minority amongst the Harmonium who thought as he did. The Eagle had flown unseen but whilst there was are those who were willing to pervert justice and turn it into tyranny someone would suffer.
He had never been a popular man not even amongst his fellow hardheads but he had been respected and there was a growing minority amongst the Harmonium who thought as he did. The Eagle had flown unseen but whilst there was are those who were willing to pervert justice and turn it into tyranny someone would suffer.
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*Powderhorn
- Posts: 74
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
The Eagle was angry. She had been minding her own business, napping on her bench, and waiting for any potential customers to wake her up. Some came, some didn't, but the worst of all was a Harmonium Guard. He kicked her bench to wake her up, and demanded some sort of permit to run a shop. After being harangued for what felt like an eternity, she went to toe the line, at least in public.
Papers in hand, she heard a pair whispering by the bar in the bazaar. What plot is afoot? she thought to herself, deciding to sneak in and eavesdrop. It should have tipped her off when soon afterwards, they decided to retreat to a private room in an inn, and yet, for some reason she didn't pick up on it.
Making her way all the way to the room, she watched, listened, and was seen. Plain as day, her shadows penetrated already. She quickly fled, but she was mad.
Was it the unfairness of it all? Was it just the fact that she was stuck here, and lashing out?
No! Sigil was, is, and will ever be evil, so long as the factions are allowed their grasp. She followed after another guard, a fairly deserted stretch of a "bad part" of Sigil. It wasn't a targeted killing this time. This time, it was just her lashing out.
It was easy, really. All she had to do was slip some wire in the space where the man's helmet and his armor met. His peripheral vision cut off by that which he wore to protect himself. She snuck up behind, and quickly ran the garrote under, pulling it tight in a quick movement. The man tried shouted, tried screaming, but it felt like his tongue filled his entire mouth. It slowly protruded out through his lips, and then his body started thrashing about. It may have thrown the Eagle down, but she guided it, laid it to it's final rest.
She put it in one of her magic bags, one of those lovely tools which were made by one of the many enchanters, and climbed to the roof overlooking the bazaar. Three signs had been put out in the same spot, two recruiting for the Harmonium themselves.
The body had a note shoved in the helm, and it landed a foot away or so when the whole came clattering down from the roof, landing with a sickening crunch.
The Eagle slipped away behind the roofs, and disappeared into the night.
The note reads:
Be ware the guard! They seek to hold the masses in bondage! People of Sigil: The Revolution is Coming!
Papers in hand, she heard a pair whispering by the bar in the bazaar. What plot is afoot? she thought to herself, deciding to sneak in and eavesdrop. It should have tipped her off when soon afterwards, they decided to retreat to a private room in an inn, and yet, for some reason she didn't pick up on it.
Making her way all the way to the room, she watched, listened, and was seen. Plain as day, her shadows penetrated already. She quickly fled, but she was mad.
Was it the unfairness of it all? Was it just the fact that she was stuck here, and lashing out?
No! Sigil was, is, and will ever be evil, so long as the factions are allowed their grasp. She followed after another guard, a fairly deserted stretch of a "bad part" of Sigil. It wasn't a targeted killing this time. This time, it was just her lashing out.
It was easy, really. All she had to do was slip some wire in the space where the man's helmet and his armor met. His peripheral vision cut off by that which he wore to protect himself. She snuck up behind, and quickly ran the garrote under, pulling it tight in a quick movement. The man tried shouted, tried screaming, but it felt like his tongue filled his entire mouth. It slowly protruded out through his lips, and then his body started thrashing about. It may have thrown the Eagle down, but she guided it, laid it to it's final rest.
She put it in one of her magic bags, one of those lovely tools which were made by one of the many enchanters, and climbed to the roof overlooking the bazaar. Three signs had been put out in the same spot, two recruiting for the Harmonium themselves.
The body had a note shoved in the helm, and it landed a foot away or so when the whole came clattering down from the roof, landing with a sickening crunch.
The Eagle slipped away behind the roofs, and disappeared into the night.
The note reads:
Be ware the guard! They seek to hold the masses in bondage! People of Sigil: The Revolution is Coming!
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*Powderhorn
- Posts: 74
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
The Eagle calmly walked away, the smell of burning hair and cooked flash hanging in the air behind her, the screams of a dying woman echoing in her ears.
This time it was a Mercykiller. Why she had a home in the Hive was anyone's guess, but they were not exempt. The trap was simple enough to lay: A collar dangling in some construction work hid itself easily enough, and it's rather shocking ability ensured a painful death.
It was only fitting, wasn't it?
A goat had been tied across the street with a bell round its neck and started, to raise a ruckus and rouse out the Mercykiller in question. When she poked her head outside to examine the noise, the collar was deftly slid over her neck, and sharply jerked up.
In the middle of the night, the Eagle had not expected the target to be armored. Relying on a half-asleep target to make it a sure thing, she was surprised by the added weight of a chain shirt that had been slipped on.
This had two very distinct effects, one of more severity than the other. The first was that the Eagle had to pull rather harder on the rope to get the target dangling in the air and quickly looped around a beam, so as to not fall back down. The second was that the electricity wrapped around the Mercykiller's entire torso, increasing the agony by that much.
Had the Eagle stuck around to watch, she would have seen the body start to blacken and smoke, the eyes burst, and the bowels and bladder void. Since she did not, these were instead discovered by whomever investigated the screaming first.
This time it was a Mercykiller. Why she had a home in the Hive was anyone's guess, but they were not exempt. The trap was simple enough to lay: A collar dangling in some construction work hid itself easily enough, and it's rather shocking ability ensured a painful death.
It was only fitting, wasn't it?
A goat had been tied across the street with a bell round its neck and started, to raise a ruckus and rouse out the Mercykiller in question. When she poked her head outside to examine the noise, the collar was deftly slid over her neck, and sharply jerked up.
In the middle of the night, the Eagle had not expected the target to be armored. Relying on a half-asleep target to make it a sure thing, she was surprised by the added weight of a chain shirt that had been slipped on.
This had two very distinct effects, one of more severity than the other. The first was that the Eagle had to pull rather harder on the rope to get the target dangling in the air and quickly looped around a beam, so as to not fall back down. The second was that the electricity wrapped around the Mercykiller's entire torso, increasing the agony by that much.
Had the Eagle stuck around to watch, she would have seen the body start to blacken and smoke, the eyes burst, and the bowels and bladder void. Since she did not, these were instead discovered by whomever investigated the screaming first.
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*Powderhorn
- Posts: 74
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
How does one sow chaos? the Eagle pondered to herself, while she absentmindedly slit open the belly of another Mercykiller, his entrails pungent in the foggy air. With no official reaction, no acknowledgement, there can be no fear, no infamy. Sure, Charae is moving house, but that's hardly what I had in mind. She puts two fingers in her mouth and blows a whistling sound so high-pitched, it is only audible to dogs, and she is well aware that they will come to the feast that she laid out for them. The body was already half-way cooked, the pants around the ankles charred at the top, and the shirt burnt almost entirely away. Huge gashes ran up and down the man's back and back of his legs, from the splinters of wood that lay about. Maybe they don't know I did the last one? Or maybe they don't care? She straightened up and disappeared into the shadows again, to find another place to rest her feet until such a time as everything dies down. Still, if they wish to allow their members to die, one after another, eventually this plane will be purged of it's doctrinal evil.
It was a simple enough crime, and, for one with her own sense of humor, entertaining. It was easy to keep an eye on her mark's door in the middle of the night. Everyone has to poop eventually, and a little bad milk mixed into the family pot was simple enough to hasten along the process. Thank Loki she was able to move about unseen so easily. The rest, was simply art.
When the man came out of his door, the Eagle darted into the outhouse before him. A quick and simple reading of a scroll placed a fireball just under the seat waiting for him, and she darted out hiding her head, looking for all the world embarrassed at having to use the seat of ease in the middle of the night, much as anyone else would.
The blast that destroyed the outhouse was heard throughout the district, and where his remains landed, the dogs came to feast.
A note left under the man's shoulder, in a fine, bold script, reads:
When the people fear the government, there is tyranny. When the government fears the people, there is liberty.
There is an Eagle roughly drawn underneath.
It was a simple enough crime, and, for one with her own sense of humor, entertaining. It was easy to keep an eye on her mark's door in the middle of the night. Everyone has to poop eventually, and a little bad milk mixed into the family pot was simple enough to hasten along the process. Thank Loki she was able to move about unseen so easily. The rest, was simply art.
When the man came out of his door, the Eagle darted into the outhouse before him. A quick and simple reading of a scroll placed a fireball just under the seat waiting for him, and she darted out hiding her head, looking for all the world embarrassed at having to use the seat of ease in the middle of the night, much as anyone else would.
The blast that destroyed the outhouse was heard throughout the district, and where his remains landed, the dogs came to feast.
A note left under the man's shoulder, in a fine, bold script, reads:
When the people fear the government, there is tyranny. When the government fears the people, there is liberty.
There is an Eagle roughly drawn underneath.
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*Powderhorn
- Posts: 74
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
Lawless are they that make their wills the law.
The woman's body, a guvner, judging by the inked hands, is almost unrecognizable otherwise. The scroll, held in her hand, holds the above line, with a crudely drawn eagle underneath. The face itself is unrecognizable, eyes gouged out, mouth flayed, ears cut off. Even the fingers are broken individually, her mousish frame, a few hours before, may have even been well liked by some for her diligent work and her strict adherence to protocol. But she was a Guvner, a writer of the laws that plague this land. She had been a judge at one of the many trials, and her sentences were known to be lenient when regarding the Mercykillers and the Harmonium.
It was easy enough to get into the house, she never had a family and the lock was a simple sliding bolt affair, easily forced. The Eagle didn't want to torture. A song was in her heart, and a smile on her lips. Heart and soul, I fell in love with you, lost control, the way a fool would do, Gladly... Still, business before pleasure, after all. A knife stabbed down into her bed, the fine linens and blankets quickly turning red with the blood. The placement was correct, and she exsanguinated almost instantaneously.
The body was dragged out onto the floor, and the maiming to the deceased commenced. It almost made the Eagle sad, but she fortified herself remembering how much pain and suffering the Triad were causing everyone on a daily basis.
She looked around the room, looking for a finishing touch, a sort of long-term plan. People were after her, after all, and it was time to give them something to bite on, even if it led them the wrong way. In fact, especially if it did.
She seized upon a dusty bottle of Enigma. Perfect. The cabinet itself was even filled with dust, the shape of the bottle leaving it's imprint, and making it's absence fairly apparent. The Eagle never had a taste for wines, but there were plenty of people with quite a taste for such a drink, and maybe it would be good if some attention were sent their way instead.
As she left the door of this judge's abode, in the middle of the Lady's Ward, she smiled upon her handiwork. Like a shadow on a moonless night, she snuck in, did her work, and snuck back out again.
The bottle itself found its way tossed into the lava of the Abyss, never to be seen again. A waste, some would think, but not to her. With a pang of regret after the fact, she asked herself, Maybe Verdant would have liked it?
The woman's body, a guvner, judging by the inked hands, is almost unrecognizable otherwise. The scroll, held in her hand, holds the above line, with a crudely drawn eagle underneath. The face itself is unrecognizable, eyes gouged out, mouth flayed, ears cut off. Even the fingers are broken individually, her mousish frame, a few hours before, may have even been well liked by some for her diligent work and her strict adherence to protocol. But she was a Guvner, a writer of the laws that plague this land. She had been a judge at one of the many trials, and her sentences were known to be lenient when regarding the Mercykillers and the Harmonium.
It was easy enough to get into the house, she never had a family and the lock was a simple sliding bolt affair, easily forced. The Eagle didn't want to torture. A song was in her heart, and a smile on her lips. Heart and soul, I fell in love with you, lost control, the way a fool would do, Gladly... Still, business before pleasure, after all. A knife stabbed down into her bed, the fine linens and blankets quickly turning red with the blood. The placement was correct, and she exsanguinated almost instantaneously.
The body was dragged out onto the floor, and the maiming to the deceased commenced. It almost made the Eagle sad, but she fortified herself remembering how much pain and suffering the Triad were causing everyone on a daily basis.
She looked around the room, looking for a finishing touch, a sort of long-term plan. People were after her, after all, and it was time to give them something to bite on, even if it led them the wrong way. In fact, especially if it did.
She seized upon a dusty bottle of Enigma. Perfect. The cabinet itself was even filled with dust, the shape of the bottle leaving it's imprint, and making it's absence fairly apparent. The Eagle never had a taste for wines, but there were plenty of people with quite a taste for such a drink, and maybe it would be good if some attention were sent their way instead.
As she left the door of this judge's abode, in the middle of the Lady's Ward, she smiled upon her handiwork. Like a shadow on a moonless night, she snuck in, did her work, and snuck back out again.
The bottle itself found its way tossed into the lava of the Abyss, never to be seen again. A waste, some would think, but not to her. With a pang of regret after the fact, she asked herself, Maybe Verdant would have liked it?
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*Powderhorn
- Posts: 74
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
Small fish. Insignificant foot soldiers, easily replaced. Nobody could care less about these bottom dwellers. What could be done? The Eagle's strikes were plentiful, but they were not effective. How could she strike in a way so as to effect change? So as to tear down a government?
She needed a bigger fish, but who? She didn't even know who was in a position of power. If only I could ask Verdant, he would know what to do. She knew one high ranking member, but, that was a friend, wasn't she...? She was openly a member of the Mercykillers, and an unreformed slaver. The Eagle knew where her conscious lay, but... could she target a friend?
Or was Charae really a friend?
She needed a bigger fish, but who? She didn't even know who was in a position of power. If only I could ask Verdant, he would know what to do. She knew one high ranking member, but, that was a friend, wasn't she...? She was openly a member of the Mercykillers, and an unreformed slaver. The Eagle knew where her conscious lay, but... could she target a friend?
Or was Charae really a friend?
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*Powderhorn
- Posts: 74
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
The Eagle had been entirely surprised over the last two weeks. Something she never expected to happen, something she never thought possible to happen, had happened. She had fallen in love. Not only that, but with a man who was only slightly less opposed to the Anarchists as she was to the Triad.
It had happened suddenly, and burned brightly. It called into question everything she had done. Verdant told her about a mother and child left homeless on account of her actions, repercussions she had never anticipated. She hesitated, not certain how to plan her next move.
That hesitation called into question her own loyalties to the Anarchists. It was with little surprise she received a summons, and found herself answering for her inactivity. Why wasn't she doing more? What were her plans?
It was well known within the organization that she knew too much already. She was offered the chance to just walk out, so long as she never spoke of it again. But what if she let something slip? What if the Triad got closer in their hunts? It wasn't herself she feared for, but Verdant. She wanted to tell him, to be entirely honest with him. She wanted him to accept all of her, not just the parts she showed her. And she didn't want to be a loose end to be tied up at some point in the future, if things ever went south for the Anarchists.
The choice was to have the knife pressed against her throat for the rest of her life, or, to protect herself and those she loved, to drink the vial and hope she could be so lucky again.
Her last request was to be put into the care of Licca and Verdant.
And none of it was to be remembered.
Levria opened her eyes in the Gatehouse, not sure where she was, why she was there, or how she got there. All she knew was that a strange woman wearing blue clothes told her to come with her, and that she was a friend.
It had happened suddenly, and burned brightly. It called into question everything she had done. Verdant told her about a mother and child left homeless on account of her actions, repercussions she had never anticipated. She hesitated, not certain how to plan her next move.
That hesitation called into question her own loyalties to the Anarchists. It was with little surprise she received a summons, and found herself answering for her inactivity. Why wasn't she doing more? What were her plans?
It was well known within the organization that she knew too much already. She was offered the chance to just walk out, so long as she never spoke of it again. But what if she let something slip? What if the Triad got closer in their hunts? It wasn't herself she feared for, but Verdant. She wanted to tell him, to be entirely honest with him. She wanted him to accept all of her, not just the parts she showed her. And she didn't want to be a loose end to be tied up at some point in the future, if things ever went south for the Anarchists.
The choice was to have the knife pressed against her throat for the rest of her life, or, to protect herself and those she loved, to drink the vial and hope she could be so lucky again.
Her last request was to be put into the care of Licca and Verdant.
And none of it was to be remembered.
Levria opened her eyes in the Gatehouse, not sure where she was, why she was there, or how she got there. All she knew was that a strange woman wearing blue clothes told her to come with her, and that she was a friend.
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*Powderhorn
- Posts: 74
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
To kill a vampire... to kill a vampire. If one wants something done right, you must do it yourself. The pink haired halfling sat at a desk in the library, trying to find any information she could about how to kill a vampire. She knew they were causing problems for the orphans in the Hive, she heard as much out of their own mouths. But she knew she couldn't confront them without knowing how to best them and put their depraved minds to the true death the Dustmen sought.
The books piled high, and it might never be guessed that Bridget would be found in such a place, but she was nothing if not dedicated, and if she was willing to put a boot up everyone else's rear, she was doubly so for her own.
"Undeath... True Death... Missing Persons in Sigil... S.I.G.I.S..." She pulled any reference she could find that might have anything to do with them.
Upon further questioning they said the victim was a male orc though they didn't know who at the time. Stating that the victim was brutally maimed beyond recognition. The investigator wouldn't say anymore after that and asked me to leave. I did manage to see a message on a wall. Written in what I'm assuming is the victim's blood. It called for those who wanted true liberation of law. Freedom to do as they wish without hindrance. And called for those interested to leave a reply in the way of their choosing.
"Not quite what I was looking for..." she grumbles to herself, as she pulls another article.
The next morning Roy's wife Sara Marcus was found dead and the suspect came up missing. Roy is suspected of murdering his wife after a domestic disputed landing him in a Harmonium cell. The Harmonium are offering a reward for any leads that lead to the arrest of Roy Marcus. Be advised that he is dangerous and approach is not recommended. Should you have any information to Roy Marcas' whereabouts report it immediately.
"Getting warmer..."
Three members of the Harmonium have been found murdered as they went about their patrols. The first identified as Notary Four Ambrose Vecci was found by comrades in the streets near the Gatehouse in the hive ward three days ago. It is believed that Notary Vecci was shot through the head with a crossbow bolt at range in an execution style popular with some of the armed gangs of the hive.
"Bah, thuggery." She says, flatly, as she continues reading.
The Second Notary Germaine Carrick was dumped publically in the Bazaar. An eye witness one Shale Raven wing described the scene;
"It was just a normal day everyone was going about their business and then there was a clattering sound and the body dropped from the roof right on top of the signs the Hardheads had put up."
It is reputed that the body was left with a note indicating the involvement of the Revolutionary League
Bridget sat back and thought of her own home. The Hardheads had come in to establish a new order, not that there was anything wrong with the old. It wasn't long before her people were locked up and marched off to camps. She heard horrible stories of what happened there for trumped up charges like "disturbing the peace" and "resisting arrest".
She had been a leader of the resistance. She had no love for the Harmonium or what they stood for: Peace through force of arms, their peace, their justice. Her land had it's own peace, it's own justice, it's own laws, it's own customs. They were gone now. But that didn't stop her from fighting them until the very last, when her own company had been shattered in an ambush. She barely made it out alive, and snuck through one of the portals to Sigil itself. The heart of the enemy.
The third body was dredged from the lake in the hive ward that of Namer Fiona Burrel. Namer Burrel was shot in a way that was similar to Notary Vecci.
The three victims are believed to have nothing in common but their membership of the Harmonium. So far no link has been established between them.
Her war was over. Wasn't it? She was just going to move on to another plane and settle in and forget the horrors she saw. It was bad enough swallowing her bile every time she saw a Hardhead, but... could she go back to fighting them?
She looked through more and more papers looking to see what happened to these murders. No mention of a trial, no mention of an execution. No exultant article pointing out the end to the Harmonium troubles.
That's it? she thought to herself. More and more papers, more and more references, and one name kept coming back up: The Eagle.
But where was this Eagle now? Has it flown the nest?
As Bridget carefully put the papers back in their properly referenced places and dusted her hands off, all she could think to herself was Perhaps it is time for a new Eagle to hunt.
The books piled high, and it might never be guessed that Bridget would be found in such a place, but she was nothing if not dedicated, and if she was willing to put a boot up everyone else's rear, she was doubly so for her own.
"Undeath... True Death... Missing Persons in Sigil... S.I.G.I.S..." She pulled any reference she could find that might have anything to do with them.
Upon further questioning they said the victim was a male orc though they didn't know who at the time. Stating that the victim was brutally maimed beyond recognition. The investigator wouldn't say anymore after that and asked me to leave. I did manage to see a message on a wall. Written in what I'm assuming is the victim's blood. It called for those who wanted true liberation of law. Freedom to do as they wish without hindrance. And called for those interested to leave a reply in the way of their choosing.
"Not quite what I was looking for..." she grumbles to herself, as she pulls another article.
The next morning Roy's wife Sara Marcus was found dead and the suspect came up missing. Roy is suspected of murdering his wife after a domestic disputed landing him in a Harmonium cell. The Harmonium are offering a reward for any leads that lead to the arrest of Roy Marcus. Be advised that he is dangerous and approach is not recommended. Should you have any information to Roy Marcas' whereabouts report it immediately.
"Getting warmer..."
Three members of the Harmonium have been found murdered as they went about their patrols. The first identified as Notary Four Ambrose Vecci was found by comrades in the streets near the Gatehouse in the hive ward three days ago. It is believed that Notary Vecci was shot through the head with a crossbow bolt at range in an execution style popular with some of the armed gangs of the hive.
"Bah, thuggery." She says, flatly, as she continues reading.
The Second Notary Germaine Carrick was dumped publically in the Bazaar. An eye witness one Shale Raven wing described the scene;
"It was just a normal day everyone was going about their business and then there was a clattering sound and the body dropped from the roof right on top of the signs the Hardheads had put up."
It is reputed that the body was left with a note indicating the involvement of the Revolutionary League
Bridget sat back and thought of her own home. The Hardheads had come in to establish a new order, not that there was anything wrong with the old. It wasn't long before her people were locked up and marched off to camps. She heard horrible stories of what happened there for trumped up charges like "disturbing the peace" and "resisting arrest".
She had been a leader of the resistance. She had no love for the Harmonium or what they stood for: Peace through force of arms, their peace, their justice. Her land had it's own peace, it's own justice, it's own laws, it's own customs. They were gone now. But that didn't stop her from fighting them until the very last, when her own company had been shattered in an ambush. She barely made it out alive, and snuck through one of the portals to Sigil itself. The heart of the enemy.
The third body was dredged from the lake in the hive ward that of Namer Fiona Burrel. Namer Burrel was shot in a way that was similar to Notary Vecci.
The three victims are believed to have nothing in common but their membership of the Harmonium. So far no link has been established between them.
Her war was over. Wasn't it? She was just going to move on to another plane and settle in and forget the horrors she saw. It was bad enough swallowing her bile every time she saw a Hardhead, but... could she go back to fighting them?
She looked through more and more papers looking to see what happened to these murders. No mention of a trial, no mention of an execution. No exultant article pointing out the end to the Harmonium troubles.
That's it? she thought to herself. More and more papers, more and more references, and one name kept coming back up: The Eagle.
But where was this Eagle now? Has it flown the nest?
As Bridget carefully put the papers back in their properly referenced places and dusted her hands off, all she could think to herself was Perhaps it is time for a new Eagle to hunt.
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*Powderhorn
- Posts: 74
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
"Every little hiver has their place, cogs big or small."
That's what the big hulking brute was telling her. She tried debating it back and forth with him, but he wouldn't see the err of his notions. He was the same that tried selling her on the notion that everyone was where they were as a just and right result of their actions. He attempted to wordsmith his way around orphans, because he was obviously in the wrong, at least, that's what Bridget thought.
Maybe the way to make him see is to make a few more orphans out of his own ranks, she thought to herself.
As she hunted the sands of Carceri, Bridget chewed over the problem and how to best resolve it. How to get the most value out of her actions.
Well, I should at least have one of the notes so characteristic of the Eagle ready to use, she mulled, taking out ink and quill within basement of the prison in Carceri. Setting it on a crate, she thinks on the description of the notes that were left. A drawing of an Eagle, but no dimensions. No style. No real precise information.
Ah well. They'll know it's someone new, but they'll know the Eagle is back regardless. Good enough.
The Tree of Liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of Tyrants. she writes in a bold hand, finishing with a fine drawing of an Eagle underneath.
Now to make a body.
As she sits in the Lady's Ward watching people stroll by, she watches for people looking official with kids. It wasn't a bad way to spend time. Nothing wrong with a little people watching and relaxing on a bench. And then she saw her mark: A frazzled looking woman, mid-20's to early 30's, ink-stained hands, folio of documents, boy and girl, maybe three years old. Cute, innocent, unknowing.
Does she bring them to work? Where's Dad? She wonders to herself.
Still, she follows her from a long distance. She was easy enough to keep an eye on, and when the woman went into her offices, Bridget took a seat at an inn with a view of the offices.
As she busied herself with her books, calling for lunch at the appropriate time, and a flow of amiable talk with the waiters and waitresses, eventually, the woman leaves her office. Bridget's tab long since taken care of, she follows again from a distance.
When the woman enters into her own home, kids in tow, Bridget continues on past, looking like any adventurer looking for treasure. She resumes her hunt for the day, already knowing her plans for the evening.
It wasn't hard to sneak into the house in the middle of the night. There was no husband, a single room for the mother, and one for the kids. Slitting her throat and leaving the note on her chest was easy.
Perhaps the only clue anyone had in the morning that there was something wrong were the crying kids.
That's what the big hulking brute was telling her. She tried debating it back and forth with him, but he wouldn't see the err of his notions. He was the same that tried selling her on the notion that everyone was where they were as a just and right result of their actions. He attempted to wordsmith his way around orphans, because he was obviously in the wrong, at least, that's what Bridget thought.
Maybe the way to make him see is to make a few more orphans out of his own ranks, she thought to herself.
As she hunted the sands of Carceri, Bridget chewed over the problem and how to best resolve it. How to get the most value out of her actions.
Well, I should at least have one of the notes so characteristic of the Eagle ready to use, she mulled, taking out ink and quill within basement of the prison in Carceri. Setting it on a crate, she thinks on the description of the notes that were left. A drawing of an Eagle, but no dimensions. No style. No real precise information.
Ah well. They'll know it's someone new, but they'll know the Eagle is back regardless. Good enough.
The Tree of Liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of Tyrants. she writes in a bold hand, finishing with a fine drawing of an Eagle underneath.
Now to make a body.
As she sits in the Lady's Ward watching people stroll by, she watches for people looking official with kids. It wasn't a bad way to spend time. Nothing wrong with a little people watching and relaxing on a bench. And then she saw her mark: A frazzled looking woman, mid-20's to early 30's, ink-stained hands, folio of documents, boy and girl, maybe three years old. Cute, innocent, unknowing.
Does she bring them to work? Where's Dad? She wonders to herself.
Still, she follows her from a long distance. She was easy enough to keep an eye on, and when the woman went into her offices, Bridget took a seat at an inn with a view of the offices.
As she busied herself with her books, calling for lunch at the appropriate time, and a flow of amiable talk with the waiters and waitresses, eventually, the woman leaves her office. Bridget's tab long since taken care of, she follows again from a distance.
When the woman enters into her own home, kids in tow, Bridget continues on past, looking like any adventurer looking for treasure. She resumes her hunt for the day, already knowing her plans for the evening.
It wasn't hard to sneak into the house in the middle of the night. There was no husband, a single room for the mother, and one for the kids. Slitting her throat and leaving the note on her chest was easy.
Perhaps the only clue anyone had in the morning that there was something wrong were the crying kids.