IV. A Fenki With Gold Rimmed Glasses
Kada El's was somewhat empty, which was not uncommon during the day hours when most folks were hard at work. In need of something to settle his hands, Rigwyn entered - only to run into a slightly shorter and somewhat curvy fenki with a pair of gold trimmed glasses that strangely irritated him to his core. He looked her over with ill intentions in mind, figuring the glasses could come off, and was about to speak when she cut him off. She was quick with her tongue, and seemingly cold and resistant to his charm.
Annoyed, he went to order a drink, but barely got that far. Within minutes they were hurling insults at one another. Their casual jests quickly escalated to escalated to racial slurs and vows of damage and before long, they found themselves just beyond the east gate with weapons drawn and a thirst for blood. As he stood there ready to slice her down the middle, he recalled her parting words at Kada El's, "I'll be right back; this should only take 15 minutes or so." His blood boiled at the thought of her thinking she could just off him like that.
They stood off on the long, paved road, then slashed at one another - sword in hand, teeth clenched, each wanting to put the other down. Rigwyn had wanted to do this in a more quiet and controlled fashion, but had settled for fighting in the street as opposed to turning her down. He lunged at Mishka with determination, but was quickly cut. The sound of cold steel clanging was quickly replaced with painful groan and a dull metallic thud. Apparently she was far more skilled with a sword, than he.
Laying on the warm cobblestone pavement, blood trickled from his body and pooled beneath him as Mishka casually walked back though the gates - cleaning his blood and fat off her sword. She notified the guards of his cut up corpse, but before they could arrive his body, it had slipped away - leaving only a bright red pool behind and a bitter memory that would not fade anywhere near as fast.
The feeling of rough, cut stone in the the dimly lit chamber that he found himself traversing looked all too familiar. He wondered as he walked in the darkness, where he was. Slowly, Rigwyn began to remember his surroundings. It was as if his memories had been shut off, and then gradually back on. As he climbed and crept thought its many twisted paths, he came to the Citadel; he could almost feel the energy of the crystal, and smell the moldy, aged books to his right. After a visit with Oriven, he sought for a way out. Oddly he could not yet recall the way.
Much time had passed since that day, but the burning resentment remained. He had been planning and rehearsing ways of setting her up and getting revenge as he stumbled out of an ally way when suddenly, he saw her. There she was, just standing there, reading a sign by the Red Crystal Den. The opportunity was wide open, but it was the worst place as the city was well guarded. Carefully, he looked up the street, then down into the plaza. He checked the windows above and the staircase behind him. There was nobody in sight.
The temptation was overwhelming. Palming a small black and red glyph, he approached as quietly as he could, then raised his hand and held it a hair above her shoulder. With one Quick touch, he grabbed her shoulder and hissed, "Weakness!" As those words left is lips, a could as dark as pitch surround her, and she fell to the ground. Knowing how risky a place it was he quickly dragged her around the side of the building, then over the ledge and on to the roof a of house. They slid and hit the ground with a thud.
Grabbing her limp body, he dragged her beneath the roof and into a corner. With a grin that reeked of revenge and satisfaction, he stuffed a starphire into her belt, then jumped on top of her and pulled out a long, sharp dagger. Holding her head, he placed the blade to her neck as the thought of shaving her unevenly from head to toe entered his mind. Of course, that would only be the beginning... The lack of hair would reveal the cuts and bruises that he was about to adorn her with.
As he pressed the blade to her throat, she awoke and screamed - causing the blade to cut her throat. He slapped his hand against her muzzle to shut her up, then punched her in the face - once, then again as she shouted and tried to fight him off. His pulse quickened, knowing that his time was shortening and his chances for inflicting harm were withering by the second. Hearing Monala's voice behind him, he felt Mishka's foot stamp against his groin. He leaped off and hopped as he felt the breath knocked out of him. Not liking the number he saw, he shoved Monala to the side and fled.
Seconds passed as he ran towards the Laanx temple to take refuge in the dungeon, then a thought sunk in. That mere punch to the face and cut to the throat was nowhere near enough. He turned back around, and ran under the roof for a second shot - casting a dark, shadowy spell that raced towards Mishka from his hands. Quickly, she managed to cast Diamond Shield - deflecting the spell as Monala sent forth a crystal bolt that struck him in the nuts. Again, he hopped, feeling the blunt, striking force of the spell less what his plate armor had absorbed. As he raised his hand to cast again, he was met with a blast of fire that seared his flesh from head to toe. Reeling in pain, he ran to the water fountain in the center of the plaza and jumped in. Quickly the metal armor cooled, but the burns beneath remained as he fled the city, knowing that it was no longer safe.
Edit: Made a correction to Mishka's description and to the last fight scene in the last three paragraphs.
