Post by The Master Tactician on Jan 10, 2013 21:28:26 GMT -5
A ray of morning sun peaked through a rift in the crimson curtains of the High Command Meeting Hall. Swain strode to the window, leaning heavily upon his cane, and drew them closed. An ornate vial sat upon the table, its contents swirling, washing the room in blue light. The vial itself was wrapped in a tendril of gold--the shape of a thorny vine--and corked with an onyx rose. The semi-liquid it contained glowed brighter than the single candle upon the table.
The room smelled faintly of perfumed soaps, of freshly cleaned carpet. Swain seated himself at the table's head. He began to shuffle through a heavily annotated pile of parchment, awaiting the arrival of a particular red-headed asset...
The heavy oaken doors were pushed open, answering the Master Tactician's summons as if on cue. Katarina entered, her expression neutral as she walked forward a few steps; the weighted entrance sealing itself with a thud. She smirked lightly, shifting her weight from foot to foot.
"I see you're still allergic to sunlight..."
The assassin crossed her arms underneath her bust, fingers tapping along her arm; waiting for the demonic bird to start. The quicker this little briefing finished, the better. Her eyes scanning the room for potential threats as they adjusted to the new lightning.
Post by The Master Tactician on Jan 11, 2013 3:07:15 GMT -5
Swain remained in his seat, still shuffling papers. He allowed himself a chuckle at the assassin's comment, then pulled a single sheaf of parchment from the stack. He placed it on the table before a nearby chair, commanding, "Sit. Much to discuss. You leave for Bilgewater tomorrow morning."
Smoothing a few stray strands of greasy hair back into their usual arrangement, the general eyed Katarina up and down, as though watching for signs of protest, any indication that she would not follow through as planned. This was perhaps the most important move of his entire career. It would have to be executed perfectly.
The assassin rounded the corner of the table, running her hand along the tops of the chairs as she approached Swain. Clad in her routine black outfit, her gloved hand made relatively little sound; her eyes trailed along the man's face... searching for any reactions or details she could make use of. She smirked lightly; Bilgewater? The two most viable options were either Zaun or Bilgewater, if he were to suggest something like that-
"I am to assume that you've arranged for transportation?"
The assassin remained calm, actually rather excited for the impending mission despite her dislike for both the nature of the mission as well as her commanding officer. She reached the chair the paper was placed in front of; pulling the seat out and easing herself onto the ornate piece of furniture- maintaining eye contact all the while.
Post by The Master Tactician on Jan 11, 2013 5:50:22 GMT -5
The general's face remained impassive, his gaze matching her own as she lowered herself into her chair. "Necessary arrangements have been made, yes. You will travel to the island by tradeship in an entourage of maidservants." He motioned to the page, upon which the name of the ship in question, its captain and obscenely early departure time were scrawled.
"When you reach Bilgewater, you will be reassigned to The Damned Maids," a smirk raised his sunken cheeks before he clarified off-handedly, "The ship's name. You'll sail for Demacia as a demure household servant--to House Crownguard."
He rubbed his chin, eyes flickering along the table, resting on the glowing vial. "Ah, and there's this." He reached for the rose-corked vial, set it down on the table before Katarina with a quiet thud. "A seamless disguise. Drink it tonight. The spell will wear after your mark has drawn his final breath--so I suggest you plan accordingly."
Illuminated by the vial's blue glow, Swain's face looked ghostly, haunting. He returned his gaze to the assassin, pressed his fingertips together, gauging her response.
The woman's smirk faded; the previous calm giving way to rage as she entertained perhaps more seriously the she should have the notion of making an attempt on the Master Tactician's life right then and there. She knew what was coming before he even said it; tearing her eyes away from the crimson orbs to scan the parchment, the muscles in her body tensing as more and more of her self restraint was diverted to suppressing her rather murderous urges. Despite having seen it coming, hearing the humiliating words coming from Swain himself; especially said in such a demeaning way with that disgusting smile of his only made things worse.
The assassin exhaled softly, her lips sealed as she attempted to quell her flaring tempers. House Crownguard. Those who guarded the Lightshields themselves. It made sense, really, save for the fact that the shining pillar of the aforementioned house would undoubtedly recognize the assassin- regardless of her confidence in her mastery over disguises and stealth. Her fists remained clenched... her lips just about to part to vocalize her questions in as steady a voice as possible when the man continued. The last piece of the puzzle was solved... although it didn't quite fail to make her any less wary of the situation.
"Surely that isn't all."
Katarina glared back towards the man. The entry seemed fine, but Katarina wasn't particularly too confident with the notion of so simply trusting Swain of all people to the point of ingesting a foreign, unknown substance with so simple of instructions as "it will wear off after your mark as drawn his final breath." She didn't wait for a response before continuing.
"I need more information about the specifics of this... disguise- and of the poison you had mentioned you had available previously."
The woman scowled softly despite knowing that the man was observing her every action... every response.
"After all, I need to know just how much I can bring as well as to learn the basic mannerisms of those serving House Crownguard."
Post by The Master Tactician on Jan 11, 2013 6:57:45 GMT -5
He quirked a brow in mocking disbelief. "Katarina, you can't think that I would send you aboard a slaveship with my toxin tucked into your skirt. What sort of reckless coordinator do you take me for? It will be delivered to you when you are ready to administer it." He rolled his eyes impatiently before continuing.
"As I believe I have mentioned, you will be expected to keep correspondence with me through Beatrice. When the time is right, you need only send word. The rest will be attended to. The substance I've in mind will stop the heart in only a few hours. Its taste is least discernible when mixed with alcohol." The Grand General cracked his knuckles absentmindedly as he considered the other topics of her inquiry.
"As for your possessions, a slave owns only clothes on her back. A plain dress. I'm sure you can find something suitable. And finally, the disguise. It is immaculate: the unparalleled handiwork of madame LeBlanc. You will become a common girl, just another innocent face in the crowd..."
The Grand General lifted his chin, perhaps amused by his own cleverness. He eyed her up and down now, relishing her lingering scowl.
Thirty minutes.... perhaps an hour. No. The witch always appears when one least expected. It would hardly be twenty minutes before Raedsel would be alerted of their Master's death. Enough time to gather her emergency supplies and vacate the city state. Cutting it close, even by her standards.
She was to place the success of this mission almost entirely in the hands of the Master Tactician. Not only did she always enter each operation with as much data as possible, she was always very... very certain of her reach and limits- both those of herself as well as her armament. The woman winced lightly. This... unpredictable situation reminded her uncomfortably of various kills earlier in her career. Various missions before experience would guide her journey and the realization that half of the kill was tied to the effort one would spend prior to even so much as travelling to her mark.
The man was still talking.
Twenty minutes would be the maximum limit. Swain was too cautious. Ten maybe would be her average time. She would need to leave without returning to the manor.
She was brought out of her fantasies as the word slave seemed to reverberate in her mind.
The satisfaction of bringing down the king of Demacia would be second only to the satisfaction of beheading this... serpent.
"I am certain..."
Her tongue slid along her canine, dangerously close to drawing blood.
"... that your... confidence in sending an assassin blessed with so little... preparation will be, in the end, for the best."
She was wrong. The lightest tinge of copper registered in the corner of her mind. It seems she would require Rera's services sooner than she had expected- for more reason than one.
"After all your servants seem most loyal to their liege... placing in him a trust similar to that which you seem to have vested within the Deceiver"
A light emphasis on the woman's title.
"I'm sure I won't be disappointed in your meticulous planning."
The woman stood, regardless of the man's answer; etching into her mind the time and place of the beginning of what was both the most important yet humiliating assassination yet. She moved quickly, her anger almost causing her to act unnaturally gracefully as she defaulted back to her earliest of training.
"Of which you've yet to mention my extraction."
Last Edit: Jan 11, 2013 7:34:24 GMT -5 by katarina
Post by The Master Tactician on Jan 11, 2013 7:59:58 GMT -5
He narrowed his eyes. "Please, Katarina. Your hostility is palpable. Do attempt to remember your manners--if not with me, then with your future 'employers.'"
The giant bird upon the mantelpiece ruffled her feathers. Swain rose, taking up his cane. He turned, leaned back against the High Command table so that he now spoke from a position indicative of his rank, a head and shoulders above her. "You sell me short. Do you think I would dispose of such a valuable Noxian asset while there is still so much to be done?" His eyes searched her, blazing through the semi-darkness.
"You will leave the way you came: on a ship bound for Bilgewater, headed by my personal associate. If you have done your job correctly, there will be no arousal of suspicions, no need for anything but a quiet departure."
The assassin's gloved hand reached out to grasp the bottle, tucking it safely within one of her numerous pouches. She continued to ignore the silly man upon pocketing the ornate vial. Katarina began walking away towards the entrance despite her commander still barely finishing his little speech. She was well aware of the disrespect and Swain's possible irritation with her behavior; but she knew that her life, for now, was safe despite her little rebellion. Katarina, after all, still served a purpose as his pawn. She grit her teeth, somewhat lost in her thoughts- she would not give him the satisfaction of towering over her; forcing her to look up towards his stature merely to maintain eye contact. Her crimson hair flowed freely as the assassin's hand found the knob. Turning it soundlessly, but not pulling the door from its frame until the man had completed his lecture. Katarina breathed, irritation clear in her voice despite her best attempts as she pulled the door open. Her rage continued to simmer, as if each additional word the man spoke. Every time she thought on her mission merely added to the fire burning within.
"Forever Strong."
And with that the woman left; her silent footsteps fading into the darkness as the light which flooded in for a mere moment was quenched once more- sealed by the room's oaken warden.
Last Edit: Jan 11, 2013 20:02:51 GMT -5 by katarina
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