A gleaming and evil smile protrudes on Orpheus's face as he gazes upon the frightened man before George can say something, Orpheus intervenes and speaks in his place. "Excellent, I am happy that I didn't kill two men for nothing." His gaze moving to the bodies beside him, George frantically looks left to right as if assessing his options. Contempt and anger build up in his wrathful and frustrated mind, his impulses enflame as rationality leaves him. Suddenly he charges forth like a raging bull, with no thought other then attack, his dagger glides through the air, held in both hands to his right side. Aiming at the enemy in front of him he rams forward five metres with Orpheus well within the range of his strike.
Orpheus rolls his eyes at the mans brazen and futile efforts as he chants his spell, Subcinctus Egomet. Vanishing in an instant as a slight wave of air circulates at where his feet where George still writhing forward barrels into the side table near the western wall of the establishment. Hunching over the table his stomach slams into the edge causing him to spew saliva from his mouth and moan in agony. His face plastered against the wooden table, he attempts to rise to his feet and turns his head to the right. His frayed nerves shiver uncontrollably at the sudden sight of Orpheus appearing to his right, standing next to the table.
He frantically reaches for his dagger with his right hand but grasps nothing but air and the bark of the wooden table. Fear fills his already fearful mind as he witnesses the blade in Orpheus's left hand, his eyes rise to the dagger as it descends and plunges itself into his shoulder. The blade cleaves through his flesh, in one side and out there other, indenting into the table as blood seeps from the wound. Grasping the dagger Orpheus hunches over to Georg's whimpering face and begins to whisper in his ear. "Comfortable or not?" With his devilish smile, he delivers the malevolent yet sarcastic question.
The writhing anger within the man overflows as he spits saliva from his mouth and growls like a snarling dog. "Die... you piece of shit!" Saliva whips into the air and a small amount splatter on his face, leaning back Orpheus straightens his back and wipes the saliva from his face.
"I'll take that as a maybe." He states nonchalantly as he glares down at the man writhing in pain as he desperately spasms against the blade lodged in his shoulder. Orpheus moves to the side and places his palms on the table, George begins flailing around with his hand as if trying to grab the hunched over Orpheus to no avail. Leaning forward slightly he starts speaking in a now cold and emotionless tone. "Please continue, I asked you about the woman you attacked and robbed." With an oddly polite tone, Orpheus gazes at the sneering man with a patient expression of waiting.
Looking back at Orpheus, George's faces scorn in hate as he replies in a vile and sadistic tone. "Who cares about some bitch I robbed." He speaks in a husky tone, weighed down by a grunting pain, a flash of aggression suddenly appears in Orpheus's eyes. With a cold and expressionless face, Orpheus reaches for the man's right hand and grasps it tightly, his left hand grabbing the wrist as his right reaches for his fingers. He violently grabs his second finger from the right and rips it back, snapping the connecting joint in one swift motion. A whimpering groan of pain can be heard from the man as he turns his head to the left in an attempt to avoid the pain, surging through his arm.
A contemptible smirk appears on Orpheus's face as he glares down at the agonising sight, speaking with a monotone voice he begins to exclaim his emotions whilst simultaneously hiding them. "Call her a bitch again and break some other important things." He speaks in a threatening tone as George raises his fearful gaze and glares back. Orpheus then turns his gaze to the right and spots a small chair next to him, swiftly he turns and seats himself and slumps back into the chair. George continues his attention towards him as he speaks further. "You should have seen her before... bruised and broken by this harsh world." Staring off into the distance Orpheus continues to speak with clear emotions bubbling up from his very heart. "A harsh world that just refuses to let people... just... just be." His crackling voice towards the end of his statement desperately beckons the words from his wounded heart.
A scornful smile protrudes from Georg's face as he chuckles with a malevolent and disdainful attitude. "Quite the hero aren't you?" He delivers a simple question with mocking undertones and hateful fury building up with every sarcastic word that leaves his mouth.
His gaze swiftly turns to the chuckling man to his side as a scornful look emanates from Orpheus's eyes. Aggressively he reaches forth with his right hand and grasps the hair on the back of the man's head, gripping it tightly he tears some of the hair as he slams his face into the table in a brutal motion. He suddenly rises to his feet, moves to the man's side and leans forward to his face with the man's body to his left. "I don't want to save her, I don't want to be a saviour... I want her to save herself." Speaking as if madness had taken hold of his senses, his wide eye's glare at the man as he continues his rant. "I want her to be strong, to sharpen every tool she has at her disposal to a razor's edge." His gaze quickly turns to the wall in front of him as he continues once more. "I want her to not need me and to glide through this world seamlessly as if soaring through the heavens themselves."
Looking forward in a glorified gaze of complete and utter awe a wicked smile appears in his face as if prideful of a situation yet to come to pass. George glares at the man with confusion on his face as he centres himself to speak his next few words. "Ha Ha, you're insane." Chuckling once more as he speaks in a crackling tone of voice he labels Orpheus as mentally ill.
Turning his smiling gaze to the chuckling man, his smile immediately disappears as he places his left index finger on the man's forehead, his eyes go cross as he gazes at his action. "It's understandable that you would call me insane, genius tends to look mad to the simple-minded." Pressing his finger into his head he quickly pulls it away, leaving a small reddish indent in his forehead. Casting his gaze to the table in contemplation, a slight creaking sound is heard behind him, swiftly Orpheus turns around with his left arm stretched forth like a hook. Grasping the air in a brutal motion he chants his spell. Imperium Corpus. Constricting his fingers in a single motion, the standing man behind him, brandishing a blood-stained short sword suddenly stops in his tracks.
Turning around, Orpheus rises to his feet and walks forward a step, his left hand raised and pointing at the immobilised man before him, his fingers bent as if grasping the man's will. He turns his head to George as he continues to struggle against the blade in his shoulder and speaks. "Are you fond of this man?" He asks in a curious tone a slight smirk appears on his face, he waits for a moment as the man does not answer and shows no visible reaction. "I guess not, too bad." He turns his gaze back to the immobilised man and continues his sentence whilst glaring at him. "I suppose the man I decapitated was the true friend, lucky for you." Gesturing with his eyes and a slight nod he slightly constricts and turns his left hand clockwise.
Tilting his head he watches as the sword on the man's right-hand turns ninety degrees to his left. Orpheus then constricts his fingers to the centre of his palm as the blade turns towards the man's heart in a suicidal gesture. Fear emanates from the man's eyes as he shakes his head from side to side in a futile effort. "Lucky for you, you get a quick death." He states nonchalantly as he compresses his fingers into a fist and swiftly releases it, immediately the man plunges the blade directly into his heart with all his strength. Blood spews forth as his eyes roll back into his head and he slumps to the ground as a lifeless corpse, still clutching the blade that ended his life.
Smirking at the brutal sight, Orpheus steps forward and reaches down towards the blade with his left hand, pushing away the hand gripping it, he grasps the short swords hilt and withdraws it from the man's chest. Blood seeps slowly from the wound with a minor spurt, with the blade in hand he shifts it to his right hand and walks back to the final man. Moving to the side and stopping just to the man's right, he raises his left hand and aims the palm towards him with his fingers stretched outwards as he chants his spell again. Imperium Corpus. Clenching his fingers slightly inwards, the man's arms stretch forth along with the table, resting a few centimetres from each other.
Leaning slightly forward with the grasped sword now resting on the table, Orpheus begins to speak in a dark and cruel tone. "Now you should rejoice at the mercy afforded to you by her... she said I was not allowed to kill you." His cruel tone begins to precipitate his calm but cold gaze as he begins eyeing the man's outstretched arms, leans forward towards his ears and speaks softly. "Now after we're done here, it is unlikely you will remember much of anything, neither the woman hurt and stole from, nor this very situation." As he speaks his head starts darting from left to right towards the end of his sentence before speaking again. "But what you will remember... is that your a worthless and insignificant human being, but last and more importantly... " He pauses with a malevolent gaze and an evil smile before continuing. "You won't remember where your hands went." George's eyes widened at the sudden and horrific revelation as Orpheus lifts the blade into the air and slams it down into the table, severing the man's hands.
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Loud screaming can be heard radiating through the room as the man attempts to writhe against the immobilisation spell pinning him to the table. Large spurts of thick red blood ooze from the raw flesh wounds on the stumps that were his hands. The glistening blood awash in blood and gore rises up from the indent in the table, raising the blade, Orpheus glares at it whilst focusing all his energy on the blade. Gripping the blade tightly an ethereal energy washes the blade as it emanates from his hand, he begins chanting a spell. Incanto Elementum Ignis. With his words, the blade begins to vibrate and emit a reddish hue as if a fire burned within the metal.
Holding the man in place with his spell places the heated blade on both of the stumps and painfully cauterised the wounds. His scream of pain intensifies as the raw agony overflows his senses causing his vision to darken until nothing but pitch black covers his gaze. Pulling the heated blade away from the steaming wounds, Orpheus gazes at the cauterised and burnt flesh covering the originally visible wounds, glaring for a moment he turns back to the now unconscious man. His eyebrows furrow at the sight before slightly tilting his head to the left in acceptance of the situation.
Reorientating his head he suddenly feels the short sword in his hand vibrate with greater intensity, he turns his gaze to the glowing blade. With his eyes affixed to the sword, he witnesses the metal from the blade slowly flake away as if disintegrating, in an instant the sword was no more then ash pouring to the table from his grip. Turning to the several bodies that lay before him, Orpheus speaks in a harsh and mocking tone with an expression of contempt on his face. "What cheap metal was that sword made of, iron maybe... huh barely took a couple of minutes with a simple fire enchantment before it was no more." Wiping his hands together as the dust of the destroyed sword wafts into the air, creating an unpleasant scent.
"You cut off his hands?" Sevran speaks in a slightly shocked tone of voice as he pulls the glass of wine from his lips, the opulence of nobility and wealth filled the air along with footsteps and incoherent words. Orpheus stuck in silence whilst explaining his story, looks back at the shocked Sevran with a confused gaze, he frowns for a moment before speaking.
"Yeah, so what?" Orpheus replies with an expression portraying the very words he spoke. He then looks down at the swirling glass in is hand, grips it tightly and takes a quick swig of the bitter liquid within.
Looking down at his own glass Sevran lifts his gaze again and turns to his friend with furrowed eyebrows and speaks. "Well, that's... that's kind of excessive Isn't it?" He asks his question whilst gazing at a man he has known for years yet could not understand how his brutality could exceed his own.
Orpheus turns his gaze to Sevran with a confused expression on his face as if the words he spoke did not befit him as the person he always knew. Pausing for a moment to collect his thoughts, Orpheus replies to Sevran's earlier question. "I think he got off easy and you can't judge Sevran... you kill people for money." Making a poignant statement in a low voice as to not alert the plethora of nobility surrounding them, the disguised Orpheus spoke to his friend.
Turning his gaze to the floor as he moves his head from side to side as he speaks in a low voice. "Still." A disgruntled expression appears on both there faces as the gaze forward, a few moments later a smile appears on Sevran's face. The appearance of a beautiful and serene scene of several bodies moving in absolute harmony, a scene akin to an ever-changing work of art. Spinning, twirling, bowing and dancing with grace, many partners on the dance floor. One select couple consisting of a nobleman and a majestic brunette woman with dark hazel eyes transfix the sight of Sevran.
Orpheus gazes at the sudden enamoured look of his old friend and casts a gaze in the direction. What he saw was a sight he had yet to behold in his wildest dreams, the sight of a beautiful gown fluttering around as the women are twirled within her dancing partners embrace. Her hair flowing from left to right as it parts her shoulders, Orpheus's gaze then moves to her face with an odd expression he immediately comments on. "She's... she's smiling, when did she start smiling?" He asks to the enamoured Sevran beside him.
Turning his head to him, he asks a further question whilst looking at him in amazement. "Did you do this?" He asks to the still gazing Sevran, his shocked face then forms into a smile as he is snapped back to reality.
Sevran turns his gaze back to Orpheus and replies to his earlier question with a still dumbfounded look on his face. "I didn't do a thing." Orpheus immediately acknowledges his statement before both of them turn to gaze and the amazing sight. Orpheus's mouth then curves into a sincere and genuine smile at the sight of Yvette's happiness and joy.
With his happy expression witnessed by Sevran, he speaks again with a slight sincere smirk of his own. "Orpheus, please continue with your story." In response to his statement, Orpheus turns his gaze away from the amazing sight and replies with a slight nod before recounting past events.
With the disintegrated sword ash piled on the table, Orpheus moves around to the side of the hunched over unconscious man, releasing him from the immobilisation spell with the flick of his wrists. The man's arm's fall slightly and rest upon the table like a puppet with his strings cut, immediately afterwards, he steps forward and places his palm on the man's scalp and chants a spell. Imperium Memoriae. His gaze hardens in extreme focus as if attempting to perform a complex task, strange ethereal energy begins to pass from his palm to the man's skull. Focusing for almost a minute, the image of Susanna appears in his head, immediately with a large amount of mental strain, the image shatters into pieces. Orpheus then closes his eyes casts his thoughts to the events of tonight, slowly in his mind those events begin to disappear one frame after the other.
A further minute passes as his body begins to shake at the sheer mental strain before he suddenly relaxes his arm to his side. Stumbling back as if winded by extreme exhaustion he steps back and leans on the bar. With his gaze pointed to the ceiling, he speaks out loud in a soft and exhausted tone. "There... that's better you won't remember a thing." After he speaks to himself he adjusts his posture upright and walks forward, leaning down he grabs the coin pouch tied to the man's waist. The sound of shifting coins can be heard rustling within as he turns around moves towards the bar, steps behind and seats himself against the wall next to the sleeping bartender.
Shuffling the coin pouch in his right hand he notices that it is half full with many coins depleting the pouch. He sighs loudly before placing the pouch on the floor to his right and speaking to himself again. "Damn, he is a big spender, he is sincerely lucky I can't kill him." As he chastises the unconscious man, his anger is soon quelled as he glares down at his blood-stained hands. The thick red blood a washes his hands as they drip slightly onto his pants, glaring for a moment he turns his gaze to the sleeping man to his left, curled up on the ground with faint snoring.
Turning back to his outstretched palms in front of his eyes, he begins speaking as if someone can hear him within this silent and isolated building. "As long as I can remember... the blood has never bothered me... no matter if my whole body was drenched in the gore of my enemies... it would be fine." As he speaks his voice begins to break as his emotions begin to swell in his chest. "I have never once regretted anyone's blood on my hands... I never... I never." His voice begins to break as sadness begins to take hold of his mind and sways his thoughts. "There... there was a purpose in it, the lives I've taken... but... but I see no purpose in your blood on my hands Kyran, there's no reason for it... there's no reason for it to serve me... I... I don't want it to serve me, I don't want your death to aid me... please." His hands begin to shake as if shivering from the cold, he then quickly grips his hands together and calms himself.
With his heart now steady he turns to the left to the sleeping Gregory, the new friend he had just made. Wiping the blood on to his left pant leg, he immediately aims his palm at the top of Gregory's scalp and readies a spell. His thoughts begin to inflame as he steals his courage to do what must be done. "I need... I need to make you forget... you... you know to much." His mind begins to ponder this seemingly simple action, but a slight layer of hesitation lingers underneath his resolve. With his gaze upon the man softening, his mind turns to the image of clashing tankards together and the friendly smile upon Gregory's face.
He lowers his palm to the ground and delivers a sincere smile as if his inner turmoil had suddenly vanished, he rises to his feet, grasping the coin pouch. He inspects his left hand now devoid of blood, leans down and lifts the man to a seated position. His closed eyes and whistling noes portrayed his obviously asleep status. Kneeling down he begins to speak to the sleeping man. "Don't worry new friend, your bar will look as good as new soon enough." With those words he rises to an upright posture as he surveys his surroundings, ready to take action.