July 5, 2008 at 12:36 pm (Backstory)
Tags: armeny, Backstory, drabble
Authors’ Note: This is just a longish drabble that I wrote when I was trying to work out what Armeny’s history and background was. I’m not sure what age this is, but it’s definitely before she becomes an assassin. The aim was to try and give an ‘alternate’ view to the one Cian has of the Intelligence Corps.
And yes, it’s meant to finish abruptly like that.
–Armeny.
***
“Kallin!”
At the abrupt tone, the razor twirling between Armeny’s fingers paused momentarily, and then continued, even as the hand manipulating it disappeared behind her back.
“In here, now!”
The clerk sitting across the hall from her looked sympathetic, but was met with a frosty look that pushed her gaze back down to the menial task in front of her.
Armeny restrained the urge to sigh rudely, slipping around the doorway into the office of the School Commandant. The bald-headed man stood at the window behind his desk, arms that may have once been muscular folded across his chest. Emblazoned on his left shoulder was the insignia of the Intelligence Corps, and once again Armeny pondered the intelligence of an organization that was so secret it proudly wore the uniform so easily recognizable.
“Armeny!”
“I’m here.” Her soft words caused him to jump and if he’d been any less of a man he may have yelped. He bore down on her with all the anger of the gardener’s goats.
“You’ve been terrorizing the Weapons Master again.” There was no room for interpretation or rebuttal.
“He attacked me.”
The commandant gazed at her strangely. “That’s his job.”
“Out of the practice rings.”
Her lips pursed as she remembered the weapons master– large and foreboding, pushing her up against the wall of the saddler’s where he knew no-one could have seen them. She could still feel his filthy hands trying to gain entrance under her immaculately pressed uniform. Unfortunately for her, she knew who would win out in a face-off between the two, so she didn’t elaborate.
“That doesn’t give you right to stake his hand with your practice halberd.”
“He’ll think twice before touching me again,” she said, smirking.
The commandant tried to contain his glee. “He wants me to expel you.”
Slowly she leaned forward so that both hands rested on his desk and stared in his eyes coldly. “Go ahead.”
Arrogance came easily to Armeny Kallin within these walls.
July 5, 2008 at 12:26 pm (Out of Character)
Tags: assassins guild, cian, dathomir, ooc, rulana, yssar, zeke
“One of the most common questions we get asked here at Angkast is ‘what’s it like working with so many different writers?’ You aren’t gonna be asking that, are you? I swear if I have to answer that one more time I’m gonna kill someone.”
July 5, 2008 at 11:47 am (Main Story)
Tags: cian, northford
By Alannah
Cian wasn’t going to allow herself to so much as blink until she at least rounded the corner of the inn and was out of that woman’s sight, whoever she was. She could feel the newcomer’s eyes boring into the back of her head as though she was trying to read Cian’s deepest secrets. But as Cian drew closer to Dahany’s unmoving form again her resolve failed her. She slowed, despite herself, trying to resist the urge to gaze at his still features one last time.
Cian shook her head and moved quickly on; aware she had lingered far too long. The woman was already suspicious of what she was and Cian wanted to give her no more reason to suspect her. She managed to keep her cool as she turned the corner of the alleyway and entered the inn once again. Walking through the doorway she saw more than a few of the locals raise their heads from their mugs to watch her. Colin, the innkeeper, also lifted his head, his gaze following her as she crossed the room. Cian nodded to him as she passed, and began to climb the stairs that led to her room, knowing there would be questions later, and rumours.
July 5, 2008 at 11:43 am (Main Story)
Tags: cian, northford, rulana
by Katherine
“Special intelligence mission my ass. It’s nothing here, just dust and ice and drunken louts spewing on the straw. Five months on the road for nothing. Five months of freezing my toes off, eating nothing but dry beef and stale rice, and drinking this godsawful backwater beer. And no sign of anything. Not even a farmers strike. What am I still doing out here?”
Thump against the back wall of the tavern, head hitting cold wood. Rulana stared up at the dim ceiling of the place, fragments of the filthy straw feathering down on the heads of patrons below. It was just like every other place she’d stayed at for the past 20 weeks. Small, dirty, inbred, boring.
She took another gulp of the watery, bitter tasting liquid in her cup.
“What I wouldn’t give for an orange. Or clean clothes, without tears or stains. Or even CHOCOLATE. Yeh, I could REALLY go some chocolate right now…”
She sighed, and looked back to the crowded room. All she saw were hicks and whores, the same as every other pub in every other town. She studied the people, face by face, touching on their thoughts for a few seconds as she did so. Nothing new, farming plans, trading prices, someone’s wife was pregnant. Move onto the pregnant wife, her adulterous husband, this family running out of food with winter on the way, a sick child and a father drinking himself into oblivion. Here were the depressing realities of life, not the glitz and glamour of the palace she was used to, but the real living. The fight for survival away from the masks and lies, no room for the deceit that accompanies money.
Rulana had been brought up in a place like this, she knew it all. Her Adoption to the Institution at the palace at 15 had been a godsend; the entire village had died of sickness that winter.
Yeh, she knew how it was.
July 5, 2008 at 11:39 am (Main Story)
Tags: cian, northford
by Mhairi
Northford’s name was taken from the river it bordered, and rightly so in most folks minds. It was just as rough and unpredictable as the river during early spring, when the first snow melts swelled its banks. Just as deceitful as the icefloes that covered it during the depths of winter and just as harsh as the dried out banks during the heat of midsummer.
Oddly enough, autumn was the only season that the town and river didn’t face any elemental extremes, merely a chill through the air as the weather grew steadily colder. But overall, Northford was a very unforgiving place.
Cian thanked the Gods for her speedy journey to the frontier town. She had arrived just before the end of summer, and with any luck would be leaving before the winter freeze set in properly a month or so from now. It meant missing the worst of Northford’s infamous weather and for that she was eternally grateful. All she was waiting on was a message, explaining the rest of her assignment.
