[centre][Kathar - The Winking Dragon Inn >> Kathar - The Rusty Brewer]

"[b]ATTENTION ALL CITIZENS. IT IS WITH DEEP REGRET THE CITY WISHES TO INFORM YOU THAT YOUR EMPRESS HAS BEEN MURDERED. THE HIGH PRIEST FINGAR WILL TAKE HER PLACE UNTIL A TRUE HEIR CAN BE FOUND AND HAS BEEN PROMOTED TO CHIEF INVESTIGATOR OF THIS CASE. HE CONSIDERS THE SAFETY OF HIS CITIZENS HIS UTMOST PRIORITY AND HAS THEREFORE ISSUED A CURFEW. YOU HAVE FIFTEEN MINUTES TO RETURN TO YOUR HOMES. ANY CITIZENS CAUGHT ROAMING THE STREETS AFTER THIS TIME WILL BE ASSUMED TO BE INVOLVED IN THE EMPRESSES' MURDER AND WILL BE SUBMITTED FOR QUESTIONING. TRANSMISSION OVER.[/b]"

The old man had just finished spinning out the Story of Creation as the announcement was blasted out across the city. All around him, people began to gasp at the sound of their Empress having been murdered and some cried out in disbelief, refusing to listen to the words of the calm female voice of the announcement. Nerom himself couldn't help but feel both admiration and fear towards the people that had accomplished this task. To sneak into the Palace itself was a near impossible feat, but to actually pull off the assassination of the Empress...He shook his head to dismiss his thoughts and stood up, unbalanced a little from the alcohol he'd digested that day. The inn was almost empty now, the patrons listening to the warning of the curfew and returning to the safety of their homes, though some were now questioning how safe they really were. Kathar was supposed to be one of the safest cities in Sythus due to the amount of guards roaming around, but tonight's events had unravelled the peoples trust in the City Guard and the great walls that surrounded this city. If assassins could penetrate the near impenetrable Palace, what else were they capable of? Sighing and rolling his eyes at the people around him muttering curses at the supposed lack of protection they were forced to live with, he turned away from the table at which the old man was still sitting and paused as he spotted someone he recognised across the room. A fellow assassin of the Guild, Jonah, had seemingly joined the crowd along with Nerom who, upon seeing his fellow companion, gave a slight nod of acknowledgement. Unsure of what the assassin was up to, Nerom headed towards the door, pushing it open with the smallest of forces.

The cold night air hit him like someone had placed a well aimed kick on his chest and winded him. With each breath he drew, it felt like he had a nest of bees swarming inside his lungs, constantly lashing out with their razor sharp stings. The knock to his system was a surprise, and he found himself leaning against the wall of the inn and gasping for air. A few guards were walking nearby and spotted him struggling to breathe, but they simply turned and walked away. [i]Typical,[/i] he thought to himself, knowing full well the only reason they left him there was because they knew who he was. Almost every guard in the city knew he was a member of the Assassin's Guild, but they could never find solid evidence with his involvement in the crimes he committed, so they were forced to let him go if they ever captured him. And so, naturally, each and every one of them hated his guts, and they loved to cause him pain whenever they could, this being a prime example.

It took him a while but Nerom finally managed to catch his breath, and after a few hacking coughs he was back on track to traversing the winding streets to the place he called home. The city now was as busy as it was during the day, almost everyone who had attended the Parade was out and about, hurrying to get home before the curfew started and they were locked up simply for looking suspicious. He thought it odd that Fingar would place a curfew like that, but thinking nothing of it he continued his walk down the people filled cobblestone street he was in. It wasn't until he was practically outside his own house he remembered he should be elsewhere tonight. He felt around in the bag he was carrying and pulled out a neatly rolled piece of parchment, tied together with a silky blue ribbon. He unravelled the paper and scanned through the letter again, still not believing the Empress would contact him, of all people, to carry out her final request. He found the location he was meant to be near the bottom of the letter and his eyes widened. The Rusty Brewer was on the other side of the city, and even at his fastest sprint there was no way he'd get there before the curfew started. He'd be caught by the guards and locked up for sure unless...[i]Unless I take to the rooftops.[/i] He finished his thought and looked around him, checking the street was empty before he looked up and worked out a route to the roof. It was easier than he thought it would be, and with a well aimed jump, he started on his way up. He wondered if the person who built the house was perhaps a thief or assassin much like himself, because the way up was easy to find. Window ledges were placed perfectly for his feet, and stone bricks poked out from the wall here there and everywhere, making the perfect handhold. It was as if the house had been designed to be climbable. Not that he was complaining, it made his life a lot easier.

He reached the roof with ease and looked around him, using the landscape to get his bearings. The Palace was directly in front of him, spanning from the east wall to the west, and taking up just under a half of the city's land. It was the pride of Kathar, and many people flocked from all around simply to stand outside in awe of its beauty. But Nerom didn't have time to admire the Palace and instead turned his eyes to the west, spotting the tall spire of the church on the far side of the city. That was where he needed to get to, The Rusty Brewer lay just opposite the church building. Backing up a little, he took a deep breath and charged forward, leaping as he reached the edge of the roof and landing safely on the roof of a house on the other side of the street. From there, it was a simple walk across several more rows of houses, as the architects of the city had rejected the idea of too many detached homes. Nerom didn't mind, it saved him jumping across huge gaps every time he walked from one side of the roof to another, and he enjoyed walking more than leaping around. It was a tad colder up here, however, and he drew his cloak around him to keep in as much warmth as he could.

He was just over halfway to his destination when he heard the sound of a church bell in the distance. The sound repeated itself four more times before silence fell upon the city once more. Nerom decided the bells were a sign the curfew had started, and he quickened his pace. He wasn't exactly able to hide himself up on the rooftops of the city houses, and he didn't exactly want to get caught outside during the curfew. Unfortunately, his efforts of speeding up were in vain, because he spotted several guards stationed on rooves as he hurried by, and all of them were soon shouting at him to stop as they chased after him. He broke into a run, leaping across another gap in the rooftops and speeding away from the guards. He got thrown off course a couple of times as a crossbow bolt buried itself in a nearby chimney or roof tile, not too far from one of his limbs. You could say a lot of things about the City Guard, but they were a damn good shot with a crossbow. It didn't take long for him to ditch the roof idea and drop down into the city streets, using the twisting alleyways and his knowledge of the city to his advantage. A few minutes later and he'd managed to lose the cohort of guards that were after him, and he started on his way back towards the church, this time using more caution and keeping an eye out for any more trouble.

It seemed luck was on his side because he soon reached the church and, looking across the street, spotted his destination. He clung to the shadows surrounding the church building and was about to sprint across the cobble street when he spotted a pair of guards outside the pub, talking to man standing outside. "[b]Get inside Yurik. You heard the announcement[/b]" he heard one guard say to the man, who appeared to be outside enjoying a smoke of his pipe. "[b]What, a man can't smoke outside his own front door now? What kind of world are we living in?[/b]" Nerom smirked at Yuriks' response, unable to help himself feeling a little admiration toward the man's lack of fear with the guards, "[b]What's Fingar put a damn curfew on for anyways? Ya really think them assassins that killed old Catherina are gonna stick around? They had any sense they'd be long gone by now.[/b]" Yurik had a puff of his pipe before looking at the guards and continuing, "[b]Oh piss off will ya? I'm not doing anybody no harm out here. Cart me off to the jails if ya want, but I ain't doing nout wrong and you know it.[/b]" The guards looked at each other and shrugged, turning away and walking back down the street. Peering out to make sure they'd gone, Nerom burst out of the shadows and sprinted to the other side, stopping just short of Yurik who was leaning on the door into the bar. "[b]An' I suppose you're here to see old limpy in there?[/b]" Yurik asked as he approached, moving aside and opening the door, "[b]He's upstairs. First door on ya left. And don't think about stealing nothing. I know 'sactly what's in there.[/b]" Nerom frowned at the mention of 'old limpy' unsure of it's meaning, but he nodded at Yurik and stepped inside.

The interior of the pub was much warmer than outside, and he found himself removing his cloak simply to try and cool down a little. The small fire in the corner seemed to heat up the building like a furnace, despite it's lack of size. Hanging his cloak on the coat stand, he walked across the wooden floor and made his way upstairs. Finding the door he wanted, he gripped the polished wooden handle, twisted it and pushed the door open gently. It creaked ominously as it swung open, revealing a dimly lit room containing nothing more than a few chairs and a table sat in the darkest corner. On the other side of the table sat what looked to be a man, his face hidden under the hood of his cloak. A small candle sat next to him, but it did nothing to help Nerom distinguish any features. He cleared his throat and spoke quietly into the darkness, "I'm here in search of Lukas. I'm assuming that's you?" His tone was, quite simply, nothing but blunt. He had trekked all the way across the city and risked both death and imprisonment to get here, and he hadn't wanted that trip to be for nothing, so it wasn't surprising he was being short with the occupant of the room. "[b]Yes, yes,[/b]" came a voice from under the hood. It sounded frail and Nerom guessed the owner was the other side of middle aged, "[b]Please, take a seat. We're expecting a few others, but as soon as they're here I will explain everything. You have my word.[/b]" Unsure what his word was worth, Nerom shrugged and took a seat in the furthest corner away from the man, not wanting to appear too friendly. "Well let us hope they don't take their time then."​[/centre]