[hr][hr] [center] [h1][b][i][color=Olive]Richard Laine[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://i.pinimg.com/originals/36/1d/84/361d844c78fb71a93ab62dcb7651714b.gif[/img][/center] [hr] [center][color=Olive]Location: The Palace[/color][/center] [hr] Richard gave a small and cruel smile. One that spoke of serpents and sly deaths. A man who made children fight? It was one thing when it was Professor Xavier. But this? In such a setting as he was reading these were not the protected and sheltered children like at the Manor. His hold shifted and he had Puck's neck in his hand. [color=Olive]"Children are not pawns."[/color] He had lost a sister to illness, another to his mother's cruelty. He would not watch more children suffer. As the newly made knight demanded the half-man's release, Richard did not look away from his prey. But his voice was something of the frigid north he had called his home ages past. [color=Olive]"Let us?"[/color] His grip tightened slowly on Puck. Squeezing the life from the man. [color=Olive]"We are not from your kingdom, and you do not allow me anything little girl. The fact remains you could not stop us even if you wished to."[/color] There was murder in Richard's eyes, fueled by his fatherly nature. This short, stubby man was a threat. More than that, he was a proven threat. It would take a sharp word from Thalia for the assassin to drop Puck. [hr][hr] [center] [h1][b][i][color=Gold]Rhys Asher[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/378688333867646976/422255485312565259/df0f62f8c2142e8ad9d0dec68836d9f6.png[/img][/center] [hr] [center][color=Gold]Location: Smugglers Bolt[/color][/center] [hr] Rhys had a bad enough time in his childhood. Save for a loving mother, which a part of his mind noted was balanced out by his teacher. A sharp, old fool whose tongue was what ended him. One comment too many about the woman Rhys had come from. A well deserved death, and his first. The rogue remembered the sick glee, yet the twisting in his gut. Worry about being caught, found, and punished. His first month away had been a nightmare. One that had ebbed over time. How annoying that the same feeling would grace him once more in the infernal marsh. Yet spying a ghost Rhys Asher slowed his steps. Before him was Fendrel Silvers, the husband of the late Queen Meliscente. As the man spoke of his daughter, the assassin wondered if it was the one who was crowned or taken? But why tell the king of such things? His mind would be disquiet and Rhys was not of habit to trouble the dead. Making them dead? Yes. Taking their comforts in death? No. [color=Gold]"Lovely enough. A bit young for me to judge, Lord."[/color] Of all the beings in the Castle or anywhere Fendrel did not deserve his hate. [color=Gold]"Though I do wonder why you walk about here and not the gilded halls were you might better glimpse them? If you would humor me by walking with me Lord?"[/color]