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sesshiyasha

Deadly Werewolf

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Posted: Wed Nov 11, 2015 8:39 pm

Chosen by The Sword ~ 1,000 words exactly o.o Not sure how that happened

Roarke walked into the house he had known since a small child. He had noticed the strange air that was around. It was his business to know secrets and he had in his opinion gotten good at picking up on things. It wasn't unusual for him to come home and have the maids or the servants be invisible, but today, for whatever reason that he would find out later, they were out and doing their diligent duty. Even if it was only slightly more then the normal for his home. He glances at the closest maid. It would seem his father was entertaining. It was the only reason for all of the parts of the "Show" as he had called it to be in full effect. From the surroundings he had, it would seem his father's guest was someone of great importance. They were nobility after all who else would it be that would call upon them for his worthless father to pull out the stops like this.

Putting his hands back into his pockets he began the journey up the long flight of stairs to the upper story. His father would be in his parlor on the main floor. After all it wasn't polite to invite someone in and make them climb the stairs to the second story where his father's study was. He laughed once at this. His father following the protocols of nobility. It was laughable. It was then that he heard the small voice behind him. Raised not much higher then a whisper.

"My Lord... You are requested in the parlor with your father and his guest..." Was the simple reply, the plea on the maid's face was as plain as could be. The cold and emotionless facade of Roarke was ingrained in her mind. She hadn't had contact with him before as she was new to the manner. She bowed her head and hoped that he would do as his father had instructed without much hassle.

Roarke watched her for a moment, her small bowed form standing at the bottom of the steps. He stood there a foot on two different steps, his hands in his pockets. He had just come from the streets where he had been a grifter for the day. His marks hadn't realized that their purses were a bit lighter, or that their secrets had been overheard. It wasn't anything big, but it was enough for the day. He turned his mind back to the maid who was still at the bottom of the stairs bowed. Behind her he sees a hint of the butler who has basically raised him since his mother died. He locks eyes with him for a moment, and sighs.

"All right... I'm going..." He says as he turns and walks back down the stairs. As he passes the maid he gently whispers, "Welcome to hell...." He smirks at her surprise as he walks off towards the parlor. He can hear the voices as he gets close. He only recognizes his father's voice. This makes him even more curious. 'Well this might have just gotten interesting....' He hides his interest well as he stands quietly in the doorway. Leaning against the frame in the door he listens to the conversation. Seemingly invisible he smirks to himself.

"It was good of you to come..." his father's voice. "I see you brought two different weapons for him to choose... We shall see what kind of use he will have..." His father turned and saw him standing there at the door, his companion had fallen silent. "I see you have returned from your errand..." He would never berate his son in front of another.

"I was told you wanted to see me..." He moved closer and saw the sword and the bow resting on a cloth on their parlor table. the weapons intrigued him. They both seemed to call to him. He tilted his head slightly as he watched them, no longer hearing the words of his father.

The stranger held up his hand in order to silence Patrick Kirentorin. His voice cut through to the young Roarke. "I have brought two weapons for you to choose from... Maybe one of them shall call to you?" He had picked up on the boys curiosity and intrigue. This was good, it meant at least one of the weapons was calling to him. "I trust your father has had you trained in a multitude of weapons..." He trailed off.

Roarke reached out and let his hand hover over the two weapons. He heard the words of the newcomer. His only response was a simple "I am trained in most Melee and Ranged weapons... though I have had an affinity for the Bow..." He had been looking at the bow, but it just wasn't calling to him. He wasn't sure why. Before he knew it he had the sword in his hand. It just seemed to fit. Everything around him seemed to fade away for a few moments. It was him and the sword. This katana, it was almost too familiar. "Will you be my partner?" he said softly to the sword. He tilted his head slightly as he pulled the sword from it's sheath. It just seemed to sing to him, once it was clear it glowed bright once. He blinked a few times after it went away. He wasn't sure what had happened but he heard the voice from beside him.

"It has chosen you... You are a Warrior." the stranger said who then looked to Patrick. "I'm sure he will be of great use." the stranger was smirking, Patrick agreed.

"I'm sure he will be..."

Roarke sheathed the sword once more. It would seem he had a new friend to play with. He smirked as he looked up to the stranger and his father, he had not missed their comments about him. He was now a warrior, he would need to explore this path a bit more it would seem.

Posted: Thu Nov 12, 2015 3:00 pm

The streets and it's secrets ~1062 words~

Roarke watched from the shadows. He had been coming out at night more often. He couldn't remain in that house, with it's stifling atmosphere and above all else, his father. He let his mind wander into the realm of his father for a while, he had found out long ago when his mother passed that his father wasn't his real father. He was just a possession for his father. Something he could own and he could manipulate, something his wife could never give him. Roarke knew all to well what his father thought of him. 'Be a good boy.... Do as you're told... You will bring honor to this family!... You will be the next head of the Kirentorin family, act like it!' His father's voice rang clear in his head. He glared at the thoughts.

There was a sound, it brought him out of his own head. He watched as a man passed with a silver bell in his hand. The glint of the silver caught in his eyes. It was such an insignificant thing, but he wanted it. He followed the man while remaining in the shadows. He kept his eyes on him, he watched as the man put the silver bell into his pocket. He calculated, watched, and planned. He would need to be quick and he would need to be stealthy in order to retrieve the bell from the man's pocket.

He continued to watch and to take note of the man's mannerisms, and habits. He was patient, he would watch and wait until the perfect moment approached him. It was then that he formulated his plan. He would accidentally bump into the man and then slip his hand into his pocket. After all his pocket was big enough that the man wouldn't notice if a hand slipped in and removed the precious bell.

For a moment in his travels his mind drifts, why exactly did he want that bell? It was a curious thing, and he wasn't sure why it called to him the way it did, but he wanted it none the less. He couldn't get the sound and the image of the bell out of his mind. Slowly he made his way closer to the man. He had found them in a fairly packed street now, so it was a good moment to make his "Bump and grab" for the bell.

Through the people he meandered his way. Most of them didn't even notice him, the ones that did simply ignored him. He smirked to himself, he had made a wide circle around the man so that he would be coming up from behind him. He got close, and remembered clearly which pocket the bell was in. All of a sudden he was pushed from behind. He hadn't been prepared for it, he bumped into the guy and instantly his mind jumped, and his hand slid into the man's pocket. His mind was racing as he tightened his grip around the bell.

"I'm so sorry!!" was his reply as he pulled his hand back out and tried to right himself. The man had turned slightly to look at him, which had helped to free his hand. He had put his hands back in his pockets for a moment before pulling his hands back out and putting his hands out palm up. He looked up at the guy with an apologetic smile. "It's so crowded, I got bumped and lost my footing..." he had already prepared the response, but now it was actually true. The man looked at him for a moment and nodded, told him it was ok, and went on his way once more. He put his hands back into his pockets.

Roarke turned and made his way back over to a side alley, his hands still in his pockets. He kept his head down and smirked to himself. His left hand was wrapped nicely around the bell in his pocket. It was his first success in his pick-pocketing. He could hardly wait until he was back on his road home. He made the way there, not too hastily otherwise others would notice. He kept his cold and emotionless air that was his usual personality when he was on the streets. Finally he looked up and saw his mansion on the top of the hill. He picked up his pace slightly as he made his way to the front gates.

He smirked more as he came through the front gates. He was home, and he was almost inside where he could take the small bell that his fingers had been running across since he had made his way out of that busy street. He made the long way up the stairs almost skipping he was so pleased with himself. He had succeeded, now he was almost home. He smiled as the doors opened and he entered his own home. This was it. It was almost time where he could pull the bell out and look at it, his prize, his conquest, his success.

"I'm back..." He said absentmindedly as the butler who had looked after him since his mother died asked him how his day was. "I just went into the middle city for a little bit and came back... nothing major..." as he talked he had made his way to the steps that led up to the living quarters of the members of the family. He climbed the steps almost two at a time. What he didn't realize was that his butler Caireo was still watching him with a hand covering the smile on his face.

Roarke made the way down the hall and into his room, he almost slammed the door in his excitement, but remembered not to. After all he didn't want to alert his father to his presence. Now that he was in the sanctity of his own room he carefully pulled the silver bell from his pocket and held it in the palm of his hand. It was small about the size of the center of his palm. It was perfect and it was silver. He smiled as he held it up and heard the chime of the bell. Nothing could take this moment from him. This was what he had been waiting for! He had pulled it off!

sesshiyasha

Deadly Werewolf

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sesshiyasha

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Posted: Sun Nov 15, 2015 12:16 am

Blood or Failure? ~ 1446 Words!

Roarke had been good since his bell heist. He had gotten his Sword and he now carried it with him in the form of a small throwing knife. He had been working with it in order to get it to transform into different things. He preferred using the katana, but there were some times when carrying a sword in public just wasn't called for. His rank allowed him to freely carry it without worry, but it was easier to not be noticed if he didn't carry it. For him it was all about blending. He needed to keep his stealth so that he would be able to make his mark. Nothing less than perfect would do. Each movement needed to be perfect and precise. He wouldn't tolerate anything less.

That was when he saw him, the man in black, he would be the next target. Carefully every so carefully he managed to follow the man in black through the busy streets. After all he had succeeded with the bell. He smirked to himself remembering the bell. He had his bell tucked away in his room for the moment, he hadn't gotten it put onto his clothing quite yet, but he would. He loved his dark long coat and he was as vain with his appearance as any noble was. He focused once more on the man in black. He hadn't lost him yet. He kept his eyes keen on him without seeming too interested to anyone around him. His goal was still stealth.

He made his way after the man as he turned down a side street. he turned onto the street to find it almost deserted. It was then that he realized the error in his ways. He had followed this man into what seemed like a dead end. 'How could this have happened?' He thought to himself. 'How did I miscalculate this much?' Mentally he chastised himself. He turned around to leave and forget the man in black and once his back was turned he felt the cold sting of steel against his left side. There was a voice in his ear now.

"Tell your father that the Tigers will not rest while the Snake eats the mouse..."

He had no idea what the message meant or why he was the one who needed to deliver it. He was angry that he would not only be caught, but that he would be caught because of his father. His rage made his left arm come up and slam into the man's face. He could hear the groan of paid from the man just as he felt the knife as it slid back out of his flesh and his coat. He grabbed his side with his right hand. There was the odd sensation of his own blood running between his fingers. He glared and could feel the strange rage filling his body. He needed to get home. He needed to escape. His first priority was to get home and figure out how badly injured he really was. He wiped his other hand over his face in frustration. He still couldn't believe that he could let this happen. This man and these "Tigers" would pay for this, he made this promise to himself. He pushed himself back into the busy street and back towards home.

The long journey home through town and the busy streets was even worse with the blood running from his side. He had kept to the shadows to keep from drawing attention to himself. That was the last thing he needed. He wouldn't dare take the side streets right now, as he couldn't guarantee his own safety in them. He refused to let himself be caught off guard twice in one day. He set his jaw once more and continued onward to home.

Finally he was in the last stretch. He was so tired and worn out that he could barely make it through the gates. He collapsed on the porch outside the front door. All he could hear was the door opening to let him in and someone yell.

Caireo burst through the door to find Master Roarke lying on the ground in front of him. He had silenced the maid who had opened the door at the approach of the young master. He knelt down now next to the young boy, and began to check him over. It wasn't long before he found the source of the boy's fainting. It was a deep wound on his side. They would need to get him inside and get him patched up before the Lord realized what had happened. This would fall on his shoulders once more. Caireo sighed as he lifted Roarke into his arms and carried him inside.

"You will tell me what happened to you when you wake I assume...." he said mainly to himself and the unconscious boy. This child was like a son to him, and he cared deeply for him. Someone had to be a father to him, since his own didn't much care one way or the other. All his own father cared about was that there could be some use for the boy, and that there was someone to carry on his legacy. He rolled his eyes at the thought of the boy's father. 'No we shall keep this between us now won't we....' He thought to himself. He had already silenced the maid, and she knew better then to speak against Caireo's wishes, but just to be sure he sent her a sideways glare that portrayed everything that would befall her should she decide to loosen her tongue.

He took the young master up the stairs and to his dressing room, where he undressed him to the waist and took inventory of the wound and the other bruises and cuts on his body from bumping into people and making his way home. Caireo sighed once more, he was in sorry shape, but he would live. He would make sure of that. He set himself to treating and dressing the boy's wounds.

When Roarke came to, he was back in his bed in his room. He winced as he tried to move. The voice came from the corner and almost scared him, if he hadn't of been half expecting it, it probably would have scared him.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you...." Was the cool statement from Caireo who was sitting in the shadowed corner.

"Yeah well.... I'm not you..." Was the shallow reply. He tried once more to sit up, or at least maneuver himself into a sitting position, it failed and sent even more pain through his side, he clenched his jaw and refused to let out how much it really hurt him. He would beat this pain, then he would take revenge on those that did this to him! This was his promise!

"I see that you have not lost your wit with your wound...." There was a smile of pride on Caireo's face that wouldn't show under the cover of shadow. He was proud of this boy, being able to take a wound like this and still trying to act as it nothing was wrong. "You need to rest a bit more... I will have the maids bring you your dinner in here tonight... and No we will not be telling them why... You will just say that you felt like it and that is all... Not that anyone would ask you..." He was stern and authoritative, and it was a point that couldn't be argued.

"As you wish...." Roarke knew better then to argue with Caireo when he was like this. In the end the butler knew what was better anyways. He had always trusted Caireo's judgement and it had at some points kept him out of trouble. He would do so now as well. He brought his hand to his side once more and felt the wound dressing that was there. "I guess I was a bit too cocky today.... I'll need to fix that in the future...." He said as he closed his eyes.

"You will need your cockiness Roarke... Don't let go of it quite yet..." His voice was softer, and he could tell from the way his breathing had changed that he had fallen asleep again. He wouldn't leave the boy's side for long, but he would need to go tell the maids that the "Young Master was in one of his fits and wanted his meal in his room again" He smirked as he walked out the door and silently closed it. They may be nobles but in this house, he was shadow master.

Posted: Wed Jan 27, 2016 12:21 pm

Blood and Mafia? 1162 Words

Roarke awoke to his room, the smell of the food that had been brought in to him had awoken him. Groggily he looked up at the ceiling. He had indeed been put in bed. The last thing he could remember was Caireo telling him they would talk later. He wondered how he would explain what had happened to him. 'How long have I been out?' he wondered to himself. His answer would be given to him shortly.

"Young master..." Caireo said as he continued to sit in the chair beside the bed. He had had it placed there in order to be there when Roarke woke up. "You have been asleep for a day and a half. It is now nighttime and your dinner is here...." He was ever formal and ever efficient. "Now... I assume you shall tell me what has put you in the position to where you are currently..." He raised an eyebrow as he glanced over to the young master. He would wait for an explanation.

Roarke sighed as he listened to his butler and probably oldest friend talk. Had he really lost a day and a half? Well at least he wasn't dead. He made the horribly painful effort to attempt to get up. It would seem his side would not allow that so he grunting moved himself into a sitting position. As Caireo talked he sighed. He knew that the butler would want to know what would bring him home in that state. Gently he put his hand to his side. Yes the wound was definitely still there. When Caireo asked him for the explanation he just sighed.

"I found this guy... he was interesting to me... He looked like he had something valuable on him..." He paused as Caireo made his disapproval known by a scoff. "He could have had a valuable secret for me to learn!" He shot back a rare flare of anger surging to the surface. He glared at Caireo for a few moments before going on. "I followed him into the shadows.. He went down an alleyway and I followed him. It was a dead end though..." Mentally he chastised himself, he should have known better. It was something he would put his mind to later. He would learn the city better. All parts of the city. He wouldn't be caught in a dead end again. "That was when it happened... He stabbed me and told me that he had a message for my father..." He looked down at his hands and then absently as he though his hand found his wounded side. Obviously this man hadn't meant to kill him, otherwise he would be dead. No they needed him to deliver this message.

He had been sitting quietly as Roarke recounted the happenings from a couple nights before. Only once or twice did he ball his hands into fists. Not because of the child he called a son, but because of the ignorance of another branch of the mafia using Roarke. His eyes danced with the anger held within them. They were the only tell of what really lied below the surface of his emotions. When he heard about the message this was one moment when his anger flared and his fists balled once more. "And what was this message?"

"The message was "The tigers will not stand by while the snake eats the mouse"..." He looked to Caireo as he said it. He still had no idea what any of this meant. "What exactly is that supposed to mean Caireo?" He was as confused as he was angry, though he supposed he leaned closer to the anger simply because he had been used. He never liked being used or feeling like a pawn. He wasn't a pawn. It was only when Caireo started to speak

"There is a world..." Caireo tried to pick his words carefully. "...A shadow world... Where an organization of people supply things to anyone who can afford it..." He waited to tell Roarke about his father until he had told him of the world he would step into if he confronted his father. "This world... is one of shadow... There are three different Organizations inside of this world... all ruled by one man..." He put his hand up to silence Roarke as he started to speak. "Listen to me... I am going to explain what that message meant for you and your father!" He kept his temper level. "There is the organization of the Dragons, The Tigers, and The Snakes... Each of these Organizations if lead by one of the top three Noble families..." He watched Roarke as the boy started to put the pieces together. There was the boy he had raised. He smiled to himself in pride of the child he raised.

"My father is the leader of the Snakes isn't he?" Roarke said not really as a question, but more as a statement to himself. He had started to put the pieces together. This world, this shadow world, his father was one of the leaders in it. His face changed as he thought about his father. Living the high life, feeling like he was in control, being able to do whatever he wanted. Oh he was sure that his father loved that. He glared to the darkness. "So.... What is this world called?" He looked at Caireo now. The anger and the Hatred burning in his eyes.

Caireo watched him for a moment as he took in the sight of Roarke, the anger, the rage, and all of him. He smiled with even more pride as he watched him. This was the child he had raised. "The Mafia..." He said as he hid his smile behind his hand.

Roarke took in the name. 'The Mafia... and my father is a Snake... How fitting...' he thought as he processed all of the information he had been given. Finally he came to a singular conclusion. "I will become the leader of this entire world!" He looked at Caireo. "I will make my father my underling and take everything from him... He will come crawling to me..." There was no anger now, no rage, just determination.

Caireo uncrossed his legs and got to his feet. "As you wish..." He turned from Roarke. He would help the boy in any way he possibly could. "But how will you do it...?" The question was simple enough.

He looked to his Butler and his oldest friend. "I will use a different side of the Mafia in order to take it from him... But first I will make the tigers pay!" He thought for a moment "So I guess that will make me a dragon..." He said with a smile of satisfaction. "Then a Dragon I will be..." His mind was set, now he just needed a plan, and that was exactly what he was about to do. He heard the door shut as Caireo walked from the room.

sesshiyasha

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