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Post by AUGUSTUS LEON PELLIPARIUS on May 13, 2011 18:37:28 GMT -5
Gentle impulsion shakes me, makes me lighter [/font][/size][/color] Sometimes he felt as though he were living with ghosts. Ghosts, he knew, never existed. Never. He believed in nothing, and that never proved a problem to him. These ghosts would never answer him. For all his air was worth, he could call to them. They wouldn’t answer him. Perhaps they wouldn’t answer him because he doesn’t want to hear what they say. Didn’t want to believe anything but what he found necessary to believe. Belief was a fragile thing. He didn’t believe there was a God, nor did he think the gods were watching over him when his blade was drawn, in the heart of Roman war. Like the hills, as they spoke to him just as the grass did, he was caved in on his own mind within the confines of sanity. Or lack thereof. The grass was tinted a harsh green, and he could say proudly he loved the colour green. Not because it was a colour of pride and luck, or what have you. That, in itself, was meaningless to him. He loved green because it was simply an oddity. A strange colour and it changes his entire perception of Rome. Like the contrast between the hazy green and its partner of the sky, blue and wild but not yet free until the sun began to set. Aside from the river Tiber, he had never seen waters. He had never seen the oceans spill into the land, and his idea of that, was that the sight was absolutely fantastic. There were no miracles, and therefore, it was an act of nature and the shifting lands. Fearless on my breath When he walked the market, his coin’s leather bound pouch jingling though as few as the coins were placed within the confine, he never bought anything. Perhaps it was more because he was a poor man than the fact he never desired anything. His heart simply never longed enough for an object to be in his possession, past his necessities. There came trouble with never truly wanting anything, no wife at home and no parents to keep him company. His income, instead of using it for himself, went to rent out the top floor of an older woman’s home, as she, too, lived alone. He had met someone similar to him. She never bothered him, and he never demanded much from her. However, today was different. He wanted something from the market stalls. Not his own property, but rather a... a worldly object. Augustus’ hand skirted over wooden carvings, some from other countries and some localized trinkets. Not one of those... He had no need for useless things cluttering his few rooms, empty as they were. His nose wrinkled as he spotted an easel among a man’s trash, hearing him yell his inventory above a lion’s mewl. Not an animal. But perhaps he’d take up painting? Teardrop on the fire tag: open count: 475 muse: teardrop dubstep remix and oceania notes: <3!
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TARJA JULIETTE ROSSI
ASSASSIN
GRAND MASTER[M:0]
Thousands of ways to die. Only one will seal your fate this night!
Posts: 14
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Post by TARJA JULIETTE ROSSI on May 14, 2011 3:41:44 GMT -5
An cloaked figure watched him from a rooftop. Her eyes were piercing. Black hair blew across her neck where her birthmark was. A symbol similar to the Assassin's mark. She performed a Leap of Faith and landed in a pile of straw not to far from the stall the man was looking at. She came out and sat on a bench, blending with two citizens. She listen carefully to see if she could pick up any useful information.
OOC: soz its short on phone but loads of detail in my short posts.
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Post by AUGUSTUS LEON PELLIPARIUS on May 14, 2011 15:34:30 GMT -5
Gentle impulsion shakes me, makes me lighter [/font][/size][/color] Above the turmoil and noise that the market, the racket that was caused by shouts and chatters of the animals to be bought, he thought he heard the rustle of hay not far from his standing. He thought it more as the spiraling of the wind that led to the capricious movement, and nevertheless, he tossed a quick glance over his shoulder to the wooden expanse of the cart. His eyes, tinted umber brown in this crisp light of the day, drifted over the stone slabs of benches. Nay, there was nothing of explicated interest to him, and in spite of knowing many citizens of Rome, there was no one present which he knew. Thinking nothing of it, only blaming it on his slowly degrading sanity, he angled himself back to the market stalls to waste away the rest of the day he had. Augustus found few things in his time there, never once opening his lips to speak to anyone. He didn’t acknowledge it when the crowds bumped into him, when a stall owner threw his speech to attract him to his wares. He wasn’t keen on renting out new property, as he was content with the one room he currently held as a place of dwelling. It was a dusty single bed pushed up to the clay laden wall, just by the foundation of the window. Adjacent to the bed, he recalled, was a sagging old desk which was covered by a few loose papers and a simple quill. Fearless on my breath Finding his more than useless inner rambling and monologue... useless, he turned back on his leather bound sandals, and he decided it better to be relaxing and reclining of his own accord, and for once to stop thinking of what he could be doing. What could he be doing? Sleeping on his worn down mattress, eating his earlier dinner, were only a few he could think of. He hadn’t eaten in large quantities in long expanses of time, and for that he was thinning bit by bit. It wasn’t that he was starving himself, but rather, losing his appetite. As his lip twitched in bored contemplation, he traced his steps past the wooden blocks and silver cornerstones being sold for pennies a piece – if only he had a penny for his thoughts? – And to the courtyard of benches lining the walls of looming buildings. There was an empty space beside a cloaked figure, one he had seen... Nowhere. It seemed familiar, the cloaks and hood, but he, again, thought nothing of it as the first time. Across from that figure, he could see a petite woman dressed in a gray garb, making her appear a bit poorer than the usual crowd. No matter. He sat himself down, and watched the sun in the heavens, the people walking their ways. He wished he could be so endearingly simple and bleak. Teardrop on the fire tag: tarja count: 480 muse: teardrop dubstep remix and oceania notes: no problem ♥ my muse has been pretty low to start with
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TARJA JULIETTE ROSSI
ASSASSIN
GRAND MASTER[M:0]
Thousands of ways to die. Only one will seal your fate this night!
Posts: 14
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Post by TARJA JULIETTE ROSSI on May 14, 2011 15:45:52 GMT -5
Tarja looked up. Her eyes were cold. She looked to see if there were any guards. She then stood up and gently pushed through the crowd. Something caught her attention. A young man being accused of theivery. She walked up to the guards, released both of her hidden blades and killed them. "Thank you. I'm in your debt." he said and ran away. She let her blades go back into their sheathes. Tarja walked back to the man. She pulled back her hood revealing her face. "You wont see me after this. Meet me in the alley outside the marketplace as soon as the moon rises." she said. Tarja slipped back into the crowd. She wasn't visible anymore. She was nothing but a whisper in the wind. A long forgotten memory.
She waited that night. She had her arms folded and her right foot against the wall. The moon was full and bright. The stars twinkled like long lost diamonds. She heard footsteps and smiled. She pushed herself off the wall. "Glad to see you." she said.
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Post by AUGUSTUS LEON PELLIPARIUS on May 14, 2011 16:22:20 GMT -5
Who is the betrayer? [/font][/size][/color] Skill. That was what emanated from the blades as they sliced across the flesh and flimsy armor even he was clad in. He sweat under the cloth in the heat of the day, and leaned forward on his knees to inspect the happenings, the rescue of the boy as he fled. Thanks? Who thanked anyone, even for the salvation of their lives? He piqued a brow in confusion, and found the disrobing of the concocted and festooned hood to reveal a surprise even to him. A woman! Inside his heart, he found himself mocking the disguised murderer, thinking her as low and without the talent he once proposed within his driven mind. Indeed did the marketplace hold an alley, the same one he hated traveling by. It stunk and held a family of infectious cockroaches battling against rats, a few which harbored themselves inside the walls of the dirt and the pillars of established buildings. There were sitting puddles of water, dirty and with drowned flies which he suspected once chased around crates left by the citizens. He knew not why any appearance there would be requested, but he couldn’t help but wonder in the back of his mind; was she speaking to him? Or was there some cloaked being behind him, too, and the two ignored the sitting guard. He wriggled on the bench, and thought to himself, he’d show, even if the message was not meant for him. He’d go and he’d see what was in store for him. Who's the killer in the crowd? For the rest of the day, he had little to do but wander. Eventually, a bit past the first signs of the settling sun, he returned to his desk and wrote. He didn’t know exactly what, but it ended up becoming a bit of a journal. He wrote the Latin scrawl with messy letters, his right hand trained to draw out the elegant curves. When he was alone, it was incoherent and a waste of paper. He decided, it would be his only recording of his life. There was nothing interesting to be beheld, and he wasn’t a scholar. Ergo, it had been placed to the back of his paper’s stack once he was finished with it, and set out the door for more of a romp. It would be good to clear out his mind, and retrace his steps to the market’s square. The sun had already sunken down below the earth, the clouds not a pink and pomegranate but a rich navy. The stars poked out from their heavenly perches, and cast their light down to him as he took a turn away from the main court. It led him to the alley, and he walked with the lightest of feet. Augustus did not fear, but he did not find comfort in the act of slinking around either. He found a few words to greet him, and his gaze scoured the walls, the rooftop, until he found the blending shape. It had the ring of a woman’s voice to it, and he took a singular step closer in hopes this wouldn’t be his last day. “Salve?” The one who creeps in corridors and doesn't make a sound tag: tarja count: 519 muse: heavy in your arms notes: <3!
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TARJA JULIETTE ROSSI
ASSASSIN
GRAND MASTER[M:0]
Thousands of ways to die. Only one will seal your fate this night!
Posts: 14
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Post by TARJA JULIETTE ROSSI on May 14, 2011 16:41:49 GMT -5
She smiled. The moonlight washed her face with it's pearly glow. "Julius Cesar. What can you tell me about his Templar adviser?" she asked. This adviser was on her top ten list to die before the year was out. She looked this man over. He looked like military but she knew she could take him on in a fight. She looked at him through piercing blue eyes. The eyes of Death himself. Tarja sighed. "If you have any knowledge on him plea tell me I'm a very busy woman." she said, starting to sound irritated.
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Post by AUGUSTUS LEON PELLIPARIUS on May 14, 2011 17:05:50 GMT -5
Who is the betrayer? [/font][/size][/color] He was confused. His feet shuffled in that way he did when he was bemused, but his eyes were not leaned to the earth and its dust as she inspected him. It was common logic to him to ask for the reasoning behind this inquiry of hers, but it did not cross his mind again as he took a long stride to her again, only standing a mere few feet away from the closing walls she found temporary rest on. He sneered at her. This was a woman, by her own words, who was ordering her to spare information. Information he didn’t have, but nevertheless, would play her game with. It was droll, to say the least, to see her reactions of impatience as he took his time. To her, it could be taken as a lolling pause to recover this planted seed of venom Caesar had instilled in the Senatus Populusque Romanus whom he knew hated all of his grown government. It could have been worse. Marcus could have been like the men before him, and for that he enjoyed Rome for what it was. With the people’s empire at stake, and she willing to abandon her post for a meager scrap like him, the world was turned to trash. Who's the killer in the crowd? “I’m sure he has many. Many I am not willing to compromise the names and positions of. If you are so busy, why don’t you do it yourself? Or is your skill nothing but a figment of your narcissism?” He sneered a bit wider at his own words, and crossed his arms before his chest, defiance meeting her. He was a solid stone, a heavy one, and he might drown easily, but he’d drown without a word. Even if this false image he was giving off would destroy him entirely, he’d see if his visage of God was true. The one who creeps in corridors and doesn't make a sound tag: tarja count: 310 muse: heavy in your arms notes: short :C
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TARJA JULIETTE ROSSI
ASSASSIN
GRAND MASTER[M:0]
Thousands of ways to die. Only one will seal your fate this night!
Posts: 14
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Post by TARJA JULIETTE ROSSI on May 14, 2011 17:18:29 GMT -5
Without warning, Tarja grabbed his arms with one hand, ramming them up his back painfully and yanking his head back with the other. "Tell me. I'm the type of person you do not want to get on the wrong side of. I am from a group the Templars fear the most. The Assassin's. Tell me or its my blade in your worthless gut. Believe me the God Pluto is on my side. You know what god he is." she hissed into the man's ear. Usually she would kill him there and then but interrogation was needed with this man.
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Post by AUGUSTUS LEON PELLIPARIUS on May 14, 2011 17:45:57 GMT -5
Who is the betrayer? [/font][/size][/color] He released a yelp, but futile as the whine was from the back of his groan, he strained against her bonds, his head thrashing in her grasp. In spite of his height, he wasn’t the strongest man of the legion, as low as he was in rank. He was more nimble and light on his feet, his own blade a small one to compliment the movement of his willowy, aging body. It was proven to be without merit and unfruitful as he struggled, hearing her demands of him another time. The gods? The gods did not install fear in him, and it was a silly thing to think they did in her, and she used the god of death as her excuse to handle a delicate matter with the grace of an elephant, the creature he had seen few times and heard of many more. “The gods will not save us now. The gods do not pity the humans, and we both know we will neither go to the underworld nor heaven,” he spat out each word with malice, but felt no need to retaliate and give her the treatment of the weak and the egotistical, as he was.”Your gods do not know you, but I know what you are. I am no Templar, nor do I know who you speak of. You have wasted your precious time here. Who's the killer in the crowd? “You’d do better without me to deal with, and my body. I care not if you are Assassin or mere woman, as I think of you as.” Again, his arms writhed and muscles ached behind his back as his feet took a defensive stance before her, scrambling in the dirt of the alley. His toes on the right foot sunk into a muddy puddle, and they crawled in the disgusting stick under his sandal, a groan wafting forth from his chapped lips. He didn’t mind his talkative nature, but it was not brought out because he wanted his life spared. He could have cared less of the matter, and her decision to spare him. It would simply be a nice afterthought to see the sun rise over the hills and craggy land bordering Rome. The one who creeps in corridors and doesn't make a sound tag: tarja count: 362 muse: heavy in your arms notes: still short :C
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TARJA JULIETTE ROSSI
ASSASSIN
GRAND MASTER[M:0]
Thousands of ways to die. Only one will seal your fate this night!
Posts: 14
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Post by TARJA JULIETTE ROSSI on May 21, 2011 1:42:24 GMT -5
Tarja sighed and released her hidden blade. She pointed it at his neck. "I have no time for you lies. You're a soldier. Surely you see the man I'm after every day." she said. If he lied to her one more time he could kiss goodbye to his life. Her cold, icy stare was enough to put fear into the hearts of the Gods themselves. No one lied to Tarja and got away with it. "You have five minutes to tell me everything you know. If you tell the truth you live if not you die. It's that simple." she said.
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Post by AUGUSTUS LEON PELLIPARIUS on May 21, 2011 10:55:38 GMT -5
Who is the betrayer? [/font][/size][/color] And in spite of the coursing blood through his ears, so strong there was no hearing his own voice or the clicked withdrawal of some oddity that he felt was the cool, fabricated metal of her weapon. Or should that have been taken into consideration that she had several more than he had already felt the wrath of? Surely, it didn’t matter as much as he thought it did. He bit the inside of his cheek, and closed his eyes in what were the last moments of pondering. Pondering what he had done with his life – nothing – and what could have been done – everything else – to stop this and take himself out of this predicament years before. The only thing that could be done to save himself, not to say he valued his life; it was only something that had a momentous amusement and value to him, was to talk himself away from her blade. “I am not a soldier. I have never left the suburbs of Rome, and never before have I seen any other parts of Italy. I merely guard the noble homes and when my shift is over, I return home. If you kill me now, then there will be no family to mourn my loss. My landlord will assume my death, but she will not look for me. The only thing that should stop you is guilt and your own conscience, if you have one, Who's the killer in the crowd? “I don’t know this man, but I have seen him once. Once, and that was only through the streets. I have never spoken to him, nor do I know anything. You are wasting your time.” The plea escaped him, and for the first time in years, his voice trembled and his heart throbbed. He stopped his struggles, and allowed the tides of sudden fatigue to take him away. He closed his eyes, but unlike all others, he did not beg to the God he didn’t believe in, and he wasn’t afraid. He was fearless. The one who creeps in corridors and doesn't make a sound tag: tarja count: 333 muse: heavy in your arms notes: happy the-world's-ending day! <3
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TARJA JULIETTE ROSSI
ASSASSIN
GRAND MASTER[M:0]
Thousands of ways to die. Only one will seal your fate this night!
Posts: 14
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Post by TARJA JULIETTE ROSSI on May 24, 2011 11:34:00 GMT -5
Tarja sighed. She removed her hidden blade from his throat and let it sheath itself automatically. "OK. But if you do see him again I want to know immediately. Consider this an exchange for your life. You'll be my personal informer. If a sense or even hear that you've been misguiding me I will not hesitate to kill you." she said. From looking at him in the moonlight she thought he looked fairly attractive in that uniform. She handed him whistle. "If you need me and I'm in the area blow it. I will hear."
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Post by AUGUSTUS LEON PELLIPARIUS on May 24, 2011 17:37:18 GMT -5
Who is the betrayer? [/font][/size][/color] Like a lamb, he was taken into her mercy, saved for another year of his fruitful labours and uncanny tongue. No matter; his life had been given back to him with no loss nor gain. It wasn’t a time of celebration, only acknowledgment as he was given the instructions she had so thoughtfully shared in the minuscule window of time the night presented. He wanted to laugh, but alas, kept the musings of his mind inside and to himself as he was treated not like a farming beast, but a dog. She must have thought him to be mad if he’d have taken a whistle from her. Nevertheless, it was rolled in his palm as the lining and metal chilled him to the touch, and he inspected it for only a moment as he raised a softened, thin brow at her regarding the new accessory. Who's the killer in the crowd? “I suppose you won’t pay me if I ever happen to use it?” Was that perhaps a tiny bit of humour having seeped through the diatribe and certainly detrimental cynical man he was? Perhaps; perhaps it was only a bit of jest through the lack of amusement in his day to day life with no true meaning or emotion behind it. No matter his reasoning for it, there was the slightest hint of his own colours coming out, but it was gone before it would have ever reached her. Instead, there was only the movement of hooking the ornament he had been given around his neck, attaching it loosely to a leaflet of a vagabond and stray string already at his chest. Sinking it under and below the mess of armour and his shift cloth, it was a tantalizingly cool sensation to his skin, and brought up goose bumps across his arms and the covered valley of his collar bones. The corner of his lip twitching in further questioning of her motives – now that were was no immediate risk of piercing his flesh across her blade, the contraption she used new to his eye and certainly interesting – lest he be a confused wanderer. “You haven’t the slightest where I live or I work, therefore you should post little threat to me. What fear do I have?” The one who creeps in corridors and doesn't make a sound tag: tarja count: 371 muse: heavy in your arms notes: <3!
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TARJA JULIETTE ROSSI
ASSASSIN
GRAND MASTER[M:0]
Thousands of ways to die. Only one will seal your fate this night!
Posts: 14
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Post by TARJA JULIETTE ROSSI on May 30, 2011 9:03:49 GMT -5
"I've been following you for a few days. I know both." she said. She smiled and looked at him. "Here let me get you a drink. Whatever you want it's on me." she said. She pecked him on the cheek as a sign of thanks. She walked out of the alleyway and walked straight to the bar. People were out having a good time and who could blame them. "I don't know why people call me the daughter of Pluto. My name is Tarja Rossi by the way. Grand master of the assassins." she smiled.
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Post by AUGUSTUS LEON PELLIPARIUS on May 30, 2011 11:49:31 GMT -5
Who is the betrayer? [/font][/size][/color] “That’s a little unsettling.” And of course it was, if he had been followed by the unknown force even he didn’t want to consider. She may have seen the most peculiar of things he did in his daily life, save for socially interacting with the population of Rome. It didn’t exactly become a worry of his, as his vagabond beginnings weren’t anything outside the constant factor, and there was nothing to find out. He walked slowly, spoke little, and did what he needed to on time. It bothered him as much as her sonorous admitting of her following behaviour, when he felt the skirting force of her lips across his cheek, such a foreboding existence that didn’t make him stir from his wavering, solitary position still against the wall. Unlike any other man who would have received this treatment, he didn’t think her as one of the beautiful women on the streets, nor did he notice her features. Perhaps she was a bit fey, a bit daft and strange, but nevertheless, company was company. The gentle impression that was left on the cold veneer of his skin was indifferent, and passed from his mind with little thought, as she led him out of the alley. Who's the killer in the crowd? He had seen the bar, and seen the raffish likes of the men and women entering and exiting the premises, but never before having formed an edict over the indoors of such. Ab ovo, he had never pondered what they could possibly have sold in the bar and its scattered tables. What drinks had she meant? His mouth felt no need for the lavish elixirs to calm him or stir him to an awakened state, rather than his dulled acknowledgment of the world around him. “Perhaps they think of you as death. Though, I’d have expected you to be more of a masculine figure,” he grinned in such a form that was execrable beyond what she’d think of detrimental. There was little to do for himself once his sandals scraped against the dim, aged floor below him, and his eyes scouring over the men and their barbarian ways as they sat themselves at table and against the creaking, set walls that appeared far more used than the outer ones. “I don’t think I’d want anything here, Tarja.” The one who creeps in corridors and doesn't make a sound tag: tarja count: 382 muse: heavy in your arms notes: <3!
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