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An erased epitaph awaited him, the Marianne Express bobbing up and down in one of Hargeon’s many harbors. It was painfully rhythmic; Watching it move for too long caused Iago’s own digits to mirror the motion, raising up, then lowering themselves, then raising up, then lowering themselves. Watching the vessel swag back and forth through discordant tides was near hypnotic in nature, which may have been the reasoning for his own bittered expression on his approach. Watching it from afar made him mirror the motions. Gods knew what the bobbing pattern would sway his instincts to do when up close.[break][break]

True to his employer’s words - Fierro, he wanted to scoff, what a dumb fucking name - the boy was waiting. He had ditched the seemingly authoritative garb that he had worn previously, replacing lavish silk and golden ornaments for a pitch cloak with faint silver lining the sleeves. For all of a second, Iago wondered if this was meant to be some clever mimic of his own appearance. Marring their bodies with staples would have surely been a worthy way to avoid any stragglers, had they been knowledgeable of the other’s existence.[break][break]

Gah, that was another pitiful annoyance. When his appearance was on full display - scars and all - others took notice. His name was known from town to town, yet hearing it ushered was forever jarring: He hadn’t come into Hargeon with the intent of being recognized, making Fierro’s insistence about his aid all the more curious. He had kept his head ducked and covered, he had seldom went out without gloves or coverings pulled over his tinted skin, he hadn’t made a mistake while sewing together a masterful nobody persona.[break][break]

So how, then, had the brat recognized him? That question haunted him, pounding back and forth between the front of his mind and the depths of his soul with every other step. The cobblestone path didn’t help; The repetitive click of his shoes against the road made his brows furrow, the hope of stealth cast out into the sea itself. [break][break]

Things weren’t adding up.[break][break]

The more he thought about it, the more his gut instinct began howling at him. Fairy Tail - though now a dreaded name when he ushered it, each syllable drenched in loathing - had trained him well where his intuition was concerned; Though far from supernatural, he had a good sense about when things were going to go wrong. It was a blessing he had received from neither parent nor ancestor; By all accounts and for all intents and purposes, he was the only member of the Chernobog clan who possessed any amount of common sense.[break][break]

Ah, but his family lacked what others held in the simplest of terms. Forethought, stable employment, common sense and self-preservation - He had inherited most of what his parents had a grand absence of, give or take a few qualities. Their love, their appreciation, their everything had seemingly been lost on him.[break][break]

Maybe that was the spark others carried in their eyes: The dedication to do what was right, their love for others![break][break]

How fitting it was, then, that Iago’s were forever dull.[break][break]

Nonetheless, his attention would drift back to his employer, the hooded lord as unstable as the sea behind him. A storm was rolling in over the horizon.[break][break]

Without a word, the young lord held out his hand. Several jewels sat unaided in the center of his palm, each one of which would be tediously picked out by Iago’s own digits. He held each one up to the waning sunlight as though to ensure that none of them were fake. He actually had no idea how to tell such a thing.[break][break]

Thankfully, he assumed the boy knew better than to try to trick him with fake money. This was no board game, after all.[break][break]

When every jewel had been stashed away in the pockets of his coat, Iago spoke.[break][break]

“How long?” He asked.[break][break]

“Soon.” His employer replied.[break][break]

That isn’t an answer, but it’s better than nothing. [break][break]

He leaned back, fixing his posture on his heels; His hunched stature made him out to be far smaller than one would have expected, on par with the would-be savior beside him. He rocked back and forth on his heels, a low whistle rolling out from the back of his throat.[break][break]

It only took five minutes or so of him whistling to get a low growl out of Fierro, followed by the boy moving towards the extended ramp that would have allowed access onto the day’s vessel. [break][break]

“Permission to board, captain?” It was a mocking tone from the mage, his head cocked to the side and a playful smile endeared on split lips.[break][break]

“You’ll come aboard even if I tell you not to.” Fierro sighed, hopping off of the ramp and onto the ship’s deck.[break][break]

“Now, maybe I won’t.” Iago chuckled, already starting the small climb up the ramp. “Maybe I’ll be a good little guard dog and stay down there until our friends arrive.”[break][break]

Fierro paused. Then, he sighed. The boy’s delayed reaction drew a swift snicker from his hired hand.[break][break]

“You believed me for a second, didn’t you?”[break][break]

“Shut up.”[break][break]

There was a tentative pause as Iago touched down on the dock, sea sickness biting at him. He had never been fantastic at working amid waves; Not only did water prevent a heavy hazard for his own brand of magic, but keeping himself afloat was harder than he cared to state. It was akin to drenching a plethora of papercuts in gasoline, then throwing a single match to his shadow.[break][break]

Painful. But, given the fact that he had already combusted once before, not entirely debilitating.[break][break]

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It took an hour or so for Fierro to fall asleep and, once the young lord was fully unconscious, Iago began searching. The ship itself was an impressive build, several cabins beneath the deck highlighting the fact that this was not usually used for ulterior purposes. [break][break]

Of course, it was the trek into the darkness beneath the depths that made Iago’s skin crawl. Being under anything was never a favorable position for him, mobility acting as his greatest weapon on a fight: Vanishing from point to point was his means of catching others off guard, playful tricks covering the tracks of an ice-cold killer.[break][break]

His ice melted once the ship began rocking back and forth at a greater frequency. At the bottom of the stairwell leading into the ship’s core, several cabins had been left with their doors wide open. The faint humming of lacrima crystals left behind was a bitter annoyance — but, even so, he’d still snatch a communication lacrima or two along the way, browsing each cabin with the same attitude that a shopper would have had amid their favorite market stroll. Beyond the crystals, only sheets remained on empty beds, a few empty frames leaving the impression that others had lived in the ship for quite a while before returning.[break][break]

Wonder where they went, Iago mused to himself. And why they would leave some of this stuff behind.[break][break]

That was another aspect of the situation that didn’t add up. The ship was docked, the grew was gone, the captain was nowhere to be found, but they’d leave precious remains behind? Communication lacrima, empty frames - He could understand abandoning one of those, but both? Wouldn’t someone who spent months adrift cherish even the frames that carried reminders of home?[break][break]

Ah, but he could attest to the fact that not everyone shared such a sentimental mindset. He didn’t keep what he had cherished in Fairy Tail, after all. Those frames, those trinkets, all the memories associated with them ought to have rotted at the bottom of a shallow grave for all he cared. There was no point in being sentimental towards weakling days… but perhaps he was a rarity in that disposition.[break][break]

He continued moving through the lower quarters, mindful to watch his step and remain steady with his right hand braced against the corridor wall. The only door that was actually shut at the end was what he presumed to be the captain’s room. Safe to say he was neither graceful nor poised as he jiggled the knob once, then twice.[break][break]

Locked? He squinted. Huh.[break][break]

There was the signature sound of wood being crushed beneath his grip, the door sliding open a moment later. That was the eternal perk of his physical attributes: Fairy Tail hadn’t trained him for nothing, his physical strength more than enough to handle a damn door knob. If he couldn’t crush a simple wooden knob, then he’d have to rejoin the guild… if only to apologize for failing them in such a simple manner.[break][break]

He took notice of the knob’s now crushed composition. Wood. Why wood? That didn’t make sense to him either. Knobs were typically metal, so why—[break][break]

He couldn’t continue.[break][break]

Pain shot through the side of his jaw as one of his staples ripped itself out, clinging to the side of a crate a meter or so ahead of him. The sensation brought him back to the present, and gods, what a fitting sight for one such as him. [break][break]

In front of him, crates upon crates of unknown origin were stacked up to the ceiling. It was against one of these crates that his staples began attaching themselves, sticking to it with weak albeit notable force. His hand raised to slowly run over his marred skin as he moved forward, lowering his left hand from his cheek to let it rest against the side of the metal-attracting crate.[break][break]

It pulsated. Like a beating heart, something inside of it was moving.[break][break]

His heart sunk to the pit of his stomach. One by one, he’d retrieve his piercings from the side of the box, painstakingly reapplying each one with deft proficiency. This time, he’d make sure to put them in a bit deeper than usual. The feeling was unpleasant, but necessary: He couldn’t bare the thought of leaving a trace of himself behind in the form of a staple, lest the Rune Knights get on his trail.[break][break]

They weren’t really a concern of his in the moment but, should his suspicions have been proven correct, they very well may have become one of his worst foes yet. He had never been in the business of explaining himself, after all. It was much funner to witness his opponents attacks, to take in their determination as a sponge would have with oil. He’d give it back to them ten-fold with his unique brand of devastation. No survivors. No witnesses.[break][break]

No way this is just some harmless piece of gear.[break][break]

An unfamiliar sensation built in the pit of his stomach. Dread? No, never. More akin to the feeling of being watched —[break][break]

He whirled on his heel, one hand latched around his box of cards, the other primed to create a burst of fire that could total a building in and of itself. Steam was exhaled through a grid of clenched teeth, a forced smile covering his tracks. [break][break]

“Oi, Fierro.”[break][break]

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Their eyes appropriately widened at the sight of their would-be opponent. Standing with his back against the railing, Iago must have been quite an intimidating figure; His hood had been let down, allowing waves of black to be pushed back and pulled forward by the ever-present seabreeze. His staples caught the moonlight in such a way to create slight indents through the air, bits and pieces of his own existence scattering themselves as false starlight. It was an interesting endeavor to see up close, the light reflecting from each piercing in a distinct way that separated itself from the last. In an almost considerate move (read as: in a purely tactical move), Iago would abide by their reasonable dismay and begin plucking the pieces of metal out from his skin. [break][break]

One by one, they were placed in the pockets of his coat. By the time he was done, the slightest movement caused a fury of metallic clicks to sound out. [break][break]

Eh. I didn’t plan on using stealth anyways. [break][break]

His attention moved back to the group. They were a small collective of three, the apparent leader of which was a broad-shouldered man on par with many a Fairy Tail member in terms of athleticism. He, like Iago, appeared to take reliably good care of his body. Golden hair was tied up into a tight bun behind his head, though Iago had to question why such a decision had been made: There was hardly enough hair to pull back, making the bun as short and stout as the man standing to the leader’s left. Nonetheless, another feature caught Iago’s attention: A faded guild mark on the man’s neck, albeit the surrounding area was too dark to give him a proper look at it. It wasn’t Fairy Tail. [break][break]

At least, he prayed it wasn’t. [break][break]

He must have been a toad in a former life. His arms were awkwardly long in comparison to his torso, and his legs were only enough to raise him a single foot off of the ground. Had it not been for the absurd length of his spine, Iago may have confused him for a bloodhound standing on his hind legs - which, in all actuality, would have been an accurate comparison. His face was droopy, slight boils appearing around the edges of his head and whatever he called the small mass of flesh where his neck should have been. Unlike the leader, who was dressed in relatively professional armor and gear, this man wore only baggy tan pants and a gray vest that did absolutely nothing to properly cover him up. At the very least, Iago would have to ask him where to get a good drink. Judging by his beer-belly, the toad clearly knew where a good tavern was. The freak clearly could have used one, given how terribly shaky his fingers were against the deck. [break][break]

Then there was the third and final member to their little disaster brigade. A bombshell dressed in pitch black, her hair trailing behind her in massive waves of black and green. Her eyes were neon blue and feline, her nails sharper than most daggers. He reckoned that, if he got too close, she may have tried to hiss at him. Every move someone made was watched by her and her alone, her lips curled back into an eternal and pessimistic scowl. [break][break]

They were a rather odd bunch. Yet, compared to the young lord draped in black and his equally abhorrent partner in crime, they may have passed for normal by virtue of comparison. [break][break]

“So.” The leader of the group clapped his hands together. “Where’s our shit, Fierro?” [break][break]

It was probably supposed to sound intimidating. But, with how the other’s eyes were locked on Iago, it was more so a plea than a command. They knew who they were working against, didn’t they? There was no mistaking the scars, the constant wafts of heat from him, the everything that spelled out his name in big bold letters right alongside the address for the nearest funeral home once their decimation had properly occurred. [break][break]

“Indigo,” Fierro’s usage of his alias caught him off-guard, but Iago looked to him regardless. “Go and fetch the merchandise.” [break][break]

Once more, it was likely supposed to sound intimidating coming from him. Fierro had lowered his voice by several octaves to match the other’s authoritative tone, after all. However, all Iago did in response was shrug, put his hands in his pockets, and look to the fidgeting frog on the opposite side of the deck. [break][break]

“I might need a hand. I’m not exactly the strongest person around.” Ah, how he adored the fact that his appearance betrayed his power. “Think you could give me a hand?” [break][break]

The frog hiccuped, looked to his boss, then begrudgingly nodded. Watching him walk was a comedy show: Every few steps, his waddle would almost result in him toppling over, but his elongated arms refused him the luxury of hitting the ground. Pushing him down the stairs was certainly a thought that occurred to the mage as the two proceeded towards the door leading back into the depths, though he refused to follow through on it. [break][break]

Maybe later.[break][break]

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The upper deck hadn’t changed. The moon hadn’t moved and the stars hadn’t shifted, and Fierro was exactly where Iago had left him: Standing with his arms folded, his gaze locked on that of his unspoken challenger’s. Beside the boss, the lady shifted her weight back and forth. Was she getting antsy for combat too? Had an argument broken out in the time that he had been gone, both sides only awaiting the arrival of their fellow combatants before jumping head-first into a hellion bloodbath? No, if the other side was smart, they would have attacked Fierro while he was alone. They had wanted to kill him after all, right? [break][break]

So why didn’t they do it while I was away…? [break][break]

He didn’t care to question it any further, the tired mage setting down his crate between the two leaders. Once everything was unloaded, he moved back to Fierro’s side with a sigh, and put his hands in his pockets. He could make out the cold embrace of his piercings jostling back and forth against his cloth. They were pulling ever so slightly against his jacket, eager to reunite with whatever was in the box several paces ahead of them. [break][break]

“Alright,” Fierro spoke, cutting Iago’s daydreams to a screeching halt. “I want the money.” He nodded to Iago. “Go and get it, Indigo.” [break][break]

He was speaking to the deadman’s mage as though he was a dog. The tone taken aggravated Iago to no end, but his suspicions were only moments away from being confirmed, if that. He had to know exactly what was going on. He needed to know precisely what was within the crates, and what these fools wanted with it. He didn’t trust it. The toad was fidgeting for a reason and, even though he had carried the package with lackluster grace, he had been nervous coming into the meeting. [break][break]

He knew that something was up. He and Iago, while not on the same page (or, for that matter, likely the same species) knew that they were essentially reading from the same novel. They were differing in their views, but one had more experience than the other where backhanded and shady deals were concerned. If he was nervous, then the other may as well have been too. Gods knew that their mutual strength could only get them so far an outnumbered or outmatched brawl. [break][break]

Nonetheless, Iago would make a fitting march to the invisible line that separated the pair. As a stroke of absolute luck, the woman - Petra, the toad had called her - began walking forward at the same time. Neither of their gazes wandered from one another, if only out of some unspoken respect. He didn’t recognize her. She must have recognized him. The two may not have been directly on par with one another, but both were ultimately attempting to keep from playing into the other’s hands. [break][break]

Gods, if she had only known what he had planted in the toad’s mind, she would have never dared to reach her hand out. The jewels exposed in her palm were as delectable to hi mas a five course meal, rich avarice coating the glimmering exterior of his soul. He wanted to take it all for himself and, by chance, he may have gotten a chance to do exactly that. If things went down a certain path, he would have had to do nothing more than politely reach out and try to take the jewels from her, purposefully making himself a little closer than needed over the crates. [break][break]

He could feel the toad’s glare. It was a delightful experience, knowing that he had tricked someone into feeling so defenseless - so powerless - that they could do little more than stare with mouth agape instead of properly act on whatever it was that terrified them down to their core. Granted, his personality may not have been entirely to blame there; His appearance was a mess in and of itself, scars and pitch clothing elaborating on the aesthetic of a cast-out monster that he had worked so hard to build. People wanted him to be someone from the moment he was born, his strength and study habits admirable among the company of complete idiots… but by Gods, they had failed. [break][break]

He was not someone. He was a nobody. A phantom who now pulled the strings of his situation with masterful tact, only relying on the other’s inherent and seemingly juvenile protectiveness over a woman who Iago himself had known for only about ten or so minutes after her initial sighting. He wondered what their relationship must have been like. Were they brother and sister, or were they lovers? Gah, that mental image stained the front of his mind, but it didn’t diminish the appearance of a sudden and wicked smirk as he felt the paper first. That was the process of a handshake, after all: The contents of the palm, then the palm itself, then the jarring scream of a man not too far away. [break][break]

“Bastard, don’t touch her!” [break][break]

He heard the sudden stampede of feet against the deck. His visage melted away in an instant, his plan working exactly as he anticipated. Flames raced around his shoulders and digits, cards manifesting in a split second. Glee played on his lips in the form of an enigmatic scowl that was quickly covered by his own magic, a laugh breaking his monotony. [break][break]

Perfect–– [break][break]

“Chariot Gambit!” [break][break]

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He wasn’t the type of combatant to let someone get a hit in. No, Iago’s physical strength was impressive - boulders quaked when he struck them, if they didn’t outright break apart - but the true advantage he held over others was that brash speed. He may not have appeared to teleport, but he was still upon them in an instant; The woman was only slightly slower than the mage himself, meeting him in a slash of claws that would have sheared straight through his skin, had Iago not taken a swift step back. His eyes widened at her sudden speed, having not expected the sudden burst of power from her. He had hoped she would have been a nobody who happened to get lucky with an artifacts blessing, not someone on par with him. [break][break]

Then that means her leader - [break][break]

He ducked to the side, abandoning the immediate slaughter he had planned. His mind raced at a thousand miles per hour, eyes tracking each movement that his opponents made. Far to his left, he could make out the faint sliver of Fierro making a mad dash towards the ramp. Cards swarmed around Iago’s form for all of a split second, a move seemingly identical to the gambit he had performed only moments taking form - before whipping forward, surrounding his employer in a vortex of ungodly tarots. He could hear the muffled wails of a man now trapped, though his attention was quick to shift back to the two brutes currently running at him with all their might. [break][break]

Of course, it’s going to be a fight. [break][break]


He stepped back, his back now against the railing, and braced his hands against the top of it. The moment the woman struck, Iago pushed himself off of the ground, lifting his feet onto the border that separated the deck from the rest of the sea. He must have looked like a gargoyle for all of a single second before he moved once more, lifting himself on his hands and kicking his feet forward to nail the woman right in her nose. He relinquished his grip on the balcony, falling back to his feet on the desk with a small thud. [break][break]

The woman stumbled back, clutching at her now broken nose, while her boss glared daggers at their mutual attacker. He only mustered a smug smile as the brute charged, an artifact swept up from the ground clutched between his hands. It was akin to a dagger, but unlike the weapon at the same time. The edge curved upwards, seemingly going into a loop, while the rest of the blade was relatively flat. Had someone taken a mallet to it while it was still in the forge, turning a would-be perfect dagger into the remnants of a devil’s curved horn? [break][break]

No, there was no time to think about that. He had to avoid getting stabbed, after all. [break][break]

Though, how would getting stabbed work with that sort of weapon? [break][break]

Nevermind, nevermind, nevermind. [break][break]

He stepped to the side, narrowly avoiding the initial jab. He pressed his knee up against the other’s abdomen, grabbing his left hand in the process, then throwing his weight back with the pivot of his heel. The result was a satisfying flip, sending the brute right over the edge of the ship. By all means, he should have tried to ensure that there was actually a splash - if only to make sure that the other hadn’t somehow found a way to hide against the side of the ship.[break][break]

Sadly, he wouldn’t get the chance. [break][break]

The feminine fatal was back on her feet, and she was pissed. An uttered spell-name prepared him for her attack only slightly as she barged towards his side, the dead man barely having enough time to raise his hands to cross them over his chest in an ‘X’ shape. A burst of green fire struck him, sending him flying back and striking the deck with a heavy thud. He rose back to his feet, utilizing the momentum from his fall to kick his legs over his head in a short flip, yet kept his posture to the ground. It was only when she began to release another burst that he dared to stand, bolting to the side in a mad sprint to avoid waves of emerald that sought to consume him whole. [break][break]

She must not have been too terribly bright, for each burst of her own fire began catching the ship itself aflame. Every emerald swarm caused another portion to ignite, the beating waves beneath them allowing the flames to spread with greater speed. Crates were ignited. Artifacts sputtered and sparked as the blaze threatened to engulf them too, a sickening idea coming to his mind as temporary shelter was taken behind the mast. She would keep firing until she knew she had him cornered, no regard for her own safety in feline hues. [break][break]

Damn it. He cursed under his breath, one hand raising to rest against his forehead. His temperature was already rising, smoke beginning to emerge out from his scars as though they were nothing more than flaps of cloth meant to retain an internal blaze. The more he used his magic, the more he would find himself burning alive. The more of her attacks he took, the more likely it was that he would catch on fire anyways. [break][break]

There was no ‘good’ way out of it. He either combusted on his own terms, or he combusted against his will. [break][break]

Cards danced between his digits, the oaken case on his side slightly charred as it was. How lucky he was that it hadn’t combusted -[break][break]

A plan came forward. He could hear her heels starting to click against the wood on her approach, his hands fumbling only slightly to withdraw a single card out from his deck. The dead man took a deep breath, pressing a swift and fleeting kiss to the edge of a treasure unlike any other - before flinging it to his side. A fury of gold embraced him, a double emerging and racing in the same direction as the card once the other mage’s burst of green faded. At the same time, Iago would move out from his shelter, two scarred deities emerging from the same area. [break][break]

Her focus was bound to be on the clone as he moved forward; True to form, he noticed that her eyes were fixated on the blur of violet and indigo that struck her with an immediate blow, the faint hum of green at her fingertips giving him enough information to show that she was ready to unleash another blast. [break][break]

He nearly tripped over his own feet as he struggled to turn amid his sprint, gaze locked on Fierro. He was the one who owed the dead man the most explanations, the one who could not be killed before he explained what the hell was going on. [break][break]

Ah, but three things would happen in rapid succession. [break][break]

None of them would be good for him. [break][break]

Nothing ever is. [break][break]

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He resurfaced with a bitter gasp. His lungs burned for oxygen by the time he made it back to the surface, a few seconds feeling like an eternity to the cast-out mage. He held his coat in one hand, though quickly shifted it to be held in his maw akin to a mutt swimming with a toy. Pieces of flaming rubble drifted nearby, the crackle of wood and latent artifacts lighting up the night’s atmosphere as a serenade to tired ears. He made his way through the water with limited success, wrapping his arms around a piece of nearby - and thankfully extinguished - rubble. [break][break]

There was no sign of life from the skeletal remains of the ship. He could make out the faint impression of a body floating near the surface, no older than Iago himself, but lacking in every possible department where maturity was concerned. A few meters away from him, a woman’s body was slung loosely over a piece of drifting rubble. She, too, was unmoving. He wouldn’t have been surprised if the toad, who had been closest to the artifacts at the time of their detonation, had evaporated completely via the blast. Such a shame that the fool was already dead. Had he been alive for the blast, Iago may have gotten the chance to hear the final cry of someone who had been completely and utterly eradicated in the blink of an eye. [break][break]

Granted, he doubted it would have been much of a scream. It would have been more like a sharp inhale once he registered what was going on, then a rigid tenseness falling over his body. Maybe a mouthed ‘goodbye’ or ‘oh shit’. Nothing that would have distracted the mage from his final task, of course. [break][break]

The thought made him chuckle as he reached the harbor’s wall, abandoning his rubble. He placed his hands against it, feeling for any plausible cracks in the stone. Once he realized that climbing up wouldn’t have been an option normally, he allowed himself to sink, diving until he struck the bottom. Then, it was a matter of pushing himself off as hard as he could. Gods blessed his natural strength, Fairy Tail’s training paying off in a single instant (read as: multiple, multiple instances). He pushed himself out of the water, hands barely grasping the ropes separating the walkway from the open sea. [break][break]

He pulled himself up and through the ropes, then turned to lay on his back for all of a few moments. He could hear the faint cries of witnesses who were no doubt shaken from their beds from the prior explosion and, as he sat up, saw the full extent of his damages. [break][break]

The fire had not been contained, nor had the explosion. It had spread to two ships on either side of the original vessel, no doubt causing a great deal in monetary damages in the process. Ah, and on that note - he strayed his hands down to the pockets of his coat, pulling out wads of soaked jewels. To say that he scowled would have been a drastic understatement; The fact of the matter was that his upfront payment had turned sour. He cast the wads to the side, disgust and annoyance clear on his features. Of course, the bills had gotten ruined. Why wouldn’t they? He couldn’t have anything nice where money was concerned, damn it. [break][break]

On that note, however, his attention would trail down to his wounded arm. From the elbow down, his skin had been marred and cut ought to hell. He could faintly make out the impression of bare muscle and tendons beneath the surface, scarlet coating his wounded limb. It wouldn’t be enough to kill him, he reckoned, but it would surely be a pain in the ass to explain to a healer. How had he wounded his arm in such a way? Well, clearly he had been milking cows when one of them decided to commit a crime and attack him without mercy. [break][break]

He wrung his hand out, wincing as the remnants of sea water fell onto the rest of his body. He hadn’t gotten away entirely unscathed from the woman’s blast, either; Now that he looked closer, her initial fireball had cost him quite a deal in terms of skin on his lower arms. His right and left had both suffered severe burns, the pain kicking in as his adrenaline rush began to fade away into oblivion. [break][break]

Iago clenched his jaw, then began working his way back up to his feet. He’d have to get out of the area quickly, lest the Rune Knights arrive and take him to be some sort of mass killer. Of course, that was an action he had committed over the course of the night: Killing the group had taken more out of him than he anticipated, but it had been done. There was no guilt present in his eyes nor in his body language as he pulled his coat back on over his shoulders, slipping his arms through the sleeves. Idly, he’d reach down to inspect the oaken box, pulling it off from his waist and absentmindedly going through a few of the cards. None of them had been too damaged by the water, which he was thankful for. Replacing them was always a pain, given the rarity of the specific designs he adored to the moon and ba–[break][break]

“Fu––”[break][break]

The curse rang out as a wave of pain erupted around his ankle. No sooner had he looked down to see what it was than had he been greeted by the same dagger that had wrapped around his arm - except rather than merely coiling around the limb, it had fully pierced through his ankle, going through muscle and bone alike. The sudden force of its pull sent Iago off from his feet and onto the ground, the mage scrambling for something - anything - to hold onto. [break][break]

He found himself back in the water a split-second later, his breath barely held, his eyes wide for once in his life. [break][break]

Knew I forgot about someone! [break][break]

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