"Abryrdan."

"Yes, my master."

For a long moment, silence. Heavy, weighted silence. Then the voice speaks again. A soft voice, one that is deceptively melodic, smooth, it comes from nowhere, from everywhere. "It is time for your next assignment."

"I understand." The voice of the demonic assassin and guard is almost beautiful in its musical quality. He kneels, as always, before the fire, dangerously close to the flames. Always waiting for the next command.

Always waiting for direction.

The flames curl, twist, shimmering, until a shape can be seen in them. For a long moment the assassin looks. When next he speaks, it is in question. "Surely another, lesser demon could be used. My talents are wasted here."

The other voice is softer now, and he can detect in its tone a dangerous anger simmering beneath the surface. "You will do as you are ordered, assassin."

And so he had.

And had nearly been destroyed for it. The armor, always there to serve him, always a shell he could be comfortable in, had not been nearly enough to protect him from the punishment that had been wrought upon him by his target's protectors.

Battered. Broken.

Betrayed.

He had been left for dead, destroyed.

And the real betrayal had been that his master had known.

Had known!

And now he is here, at the Inn. Kneeling before another fire.

Only now, there is no one to give him direction.

No purpose, no reason.

He does not know despair. Does not give in to hopelessness. You have to have hope in order to lose it.

All he has known - indeed, reveled in - is death. Destruction. Service to powers greater than his own, someone to show him the way, to give him a purpose.

Not like the succubus that had tried to lure him in with her sensuality.

He is above that, beyond it. And she had thought to lure him, to ask him of cost, to try to 'employ' him.

And had not listened in the slightest when he told her it was not a matter of 'cost.'

Had nothing to do with money, or otehr methods of payment. He is no mercenary.

He wishes to serve a purpose. To be an instrument of destruction, to be a finely honed weapon, to serve with distinction.

Even the evil, the darker beings, have their own code of honor.

he had seen the old man, the sorcerer, in the Inn. Had been drawn by that power, by the promise of something greater. Nearly enraptured, hungry, as though he had sensed that here there might be a calling suitable for him.

He will wait. Watch. Learn.

It was an interesting day indeed.

First, the Pavilion. There had been the succubus, so much more alluring than the first one. He had never let it be shown, but it had taken quite a bit more willpower to resist her than it had for the first. Discipline, a trait he is only beginning to take pride in, had won out the day.

And then there had been Lilly.

That same, dark, almost seductive power he had felt in his former master. The same dark, seductive words, trying to appeal to an ego he does not have. Trying to tempt him with words, with promises of power.

He had laughed and informed her of her mistake. She had not seemed too pleased, but nor had she been upset, either, moving on to the incubus that had happened by, one he had seen in the Inn once or perhaps a few times more.

And later, venturing to the Glen, in hopes of seeing that one he had found a certain...kinship...with.

He had seen her, this time at play with what looked to be a dracoform of some sort. The sleek, sinuous, lethal form had moves with fluid ease, clearly at home in its environment as he watched, and upon discovering him there, had even deigned to approach. Milky white skin, perfectly shaped, alluring in a way that had nothing to do with physical needs of lust or desire.

And at the re-entry of the dragon to the lake, she had shied away.

Beginnings are often such fragile, tenuous times.

And finally, the message, delivered from an unknown. A request for a meeting with him, that someone had deigned to notice him, to offer him what he had been seeking.

A place in this newest of worlds.

A purpose.

An upwelling of flame near the fountain of the marketplace heralds the arrival of Abryrdan, clad as usual in his all black - pants, t-shirt, boots. A seat taken on the edge of the fountain, back to the waters there, cross-legged, his hands resting on his knees, the head bowed and eyes closed. Seeming near the image of patience as he settles there to wait.

The blithe hover of the purple globe would weave through the air of the marketplace, the length of the hour thinning out the normal midday bustle, making it easy to see. Its approach would be nonthreatening, a smooth glide before him, where a pulsating expansion of its potent radius would stretch the globe sphere wide, wide enough to birth a figure, or in this case, two. Stepping free the Dark Mage of the Shaitan would stand before Abryrdan, with the demoness Natolii upon his arm, her fiery mane flowing behind them like a cloak. Her slender form encased in supple leathers.

It is a tribute to the demon's sense of discipline that he has not moved so much as a muscle as the globe of magic expanded before him. For a long moment, he remained just as he was, the attitude of waiting, or perhaps prayer, still present, before he finally opened his crimson eyes to look upon the pair. His gaze fixed upon the dark mage before he finally spoke, but did not stand yet. A single word spoken in low musical voice. "You." The word is voiced in tones of recognition, but other than that no emotion touched his voice.

The demoness gave a cool look of turquoise to her brethren sitting before them.

Arkon's initial response had been, like his own, a single word. "Indeed." An antiquated inflection flowing through archaic dialect. His eyes remain upon the prone form, arm constricting to keep Natolii close, presenting a united front. "It is good to finally have council with you, Abryrdan." His name known by simply hearing his voice, an latent talent of the Dark Mage. "I hope you have not been waiting long."

It perhaps was not just the pull of energy in the thick of night but perhaps that bond. That summon twist of awareness to Abyrdan's presence. The Anguissette glanced down to the tribal mark of barbed chain snaking around her wrist. Scarlet scarf tied in 'kerchief style across her hair, the simple black dress worn. Dark elegance always as she moved through the Marketplace. Drawn and guided by the pull of that alone.

Abryrdan had not moved from his seat for the moment, seeing no need - as yet - to move. "Time is not important, being a measure that is used to count time passed or time approaching. I do not notice its passage." The ebon inking of tattoos has shifted to crimson at the entrance of the pair, and now a subtle shifting at his wrist to ebon once more seems to draw his attention to the approaching courtesan.

The demoness noted the name quietly. She has no cause to say anything at this time. Her own nature hidden 'neath a carefully crafted mask. Yet, there was a twinge in the 3-claw scar on her abdomen.

Arkon spoke again. "Very well. I have been made aware of your presence and come with an offer to you. It is my understand that you seek a purpose beyond the mundane continuation of ...time." The last word spoken with a trivial inflection echoing his own description of it. "I come to you with an offer, Abryrdan, an offer to join those who understand your need, and seek to deliver a worthy purpose to you." The following pause was contrived, needing to see valid interest before delving further.

That barbed chain of a mark at her wrist seemed to dig into the courtesan's flesh. Marking her awareness. Drawn she would move in silent approach towards Abyrdan. Stopping at the perimeter of that area of discussion. The court nature of the woman's way kept her respectful and mindful of her place.

His attention is drawn away from the courtesan back to Arkon as he speaks. The crimson eyes show a flicker of interest, not because he is not interested but because it is all he will allow. Moving from sitting on the edge of the fountain, he stands, bowing his head respectfully to both. "Your understanding is correct, Lord Arkon. Though I do wish to hear your offer before I accept...and I may have another request as well." He looks over at Amiryn as he says this.

Those Tourquoise eyes glance to Amiryn as he does and look her over appraisingly. Force of habit so to speak.

Those glacier blues rested on Abyrdan ever marred by the scarlet mote in one depth of blue. There to rest on the pair. A bow of head in greeting.

A measured nod was returned, the xanthous hue of his gaze locked upon Abryrdan. "My Institute of magic is in need of someone of your skills. We are always looking to bring in those who seek purpose...a place. The Institute is a nexus of understanding and salvation. It gives meaning and drive to a lackluster wander through an otherwise mindless continuum. It is a place of knowledge and power, of ambition. But mostly, a haven for those who are lost, and need to be found."

He nods to that, his eyes intent, his stance open, listening carefully. A nod given as the explanation is heard. "And what purpose would you have for one such as myself?" A look given to the courtesan again, a nod given to her, his arm subtly reaching out towards her where she stands.

She moved then at that offering. Fingers finding that familiar resting place at his arm. A light caress of fingertips to those marks of tribal.

As he is shifting his attention back to Arkon, the Anguissette vanishes from his side, claimed by that accursed Nexus. Disappointment flickers across his features for a moment as she is taken.

"You will have many different purposes, Abryrdan. You will be a teacher, a pupil, an enforcer, a protector..." Drawing out space between the next descriptor. "...a killer. You will no longer be masterless, yet have no master. You will have guidance." A tilt of his chin showing a caliginous sincerity in his sallow eyes. "...you will have choice."

Sharp eyes of the demoness take in much, yet reveal little. She knew when to listen.

The confine of his arm keeps the proximity between he and Natolii close enough so that she can feel the newly refurbished lengths of his body, nothing intimate or alluring, just close enough so that she is aware of his physical being.

Again, a hint of something in his eyes. This time intrigue and definite interest, a hint of a smile touching his lips. "You present a most interesting and generous offer, Lord Arkon." Silence follows. Whether not to appear to eager, or perhaps actually weighing the choice, is known only to the demon. "What you propose is truly an offer I would be honored to accept." A bow given, though he does not take his eyes from the mage. Not a sign of mistrust, but of respect. "I am most eager to explore this opportunity." The last statement almost seems ironic, as he does not appear to be eager at all, save for the bright interest still lingering in his eyes.

A telltale hint of electricity gathering would cause flesh to ripple, hair to tingle, and with a Snap she would appear, a delicate slender young woman wrapped in energy which would pass in a blink, leaving her to stand before them.

A slender brow raised at the appearance of another. The face was neutral cast, though those turquoise eyes were appraising.

The desolate stance of thin latitudes would tug upward in the smallest sign of a smile, not so much joy as merely the elation of accomplishment. "And I am eager to for your exploration, Abryrdan. The exploration of yourself." Another calculated bow in his direction, answering his honorable gesture. "Rise, my friend. We have much to do." The arcane crackle of electricity was a signature, and thus left no surprise to who made the appearance as he swiveled a look toward her.

Silvery eyes would hold the flashing light of electricity, the only hint that the magic remained with her, even as she lowered into a deeply obedient curtsy, skirts pooling out from her slender legs in a puddle of finery on the cobblestoned streets. Her voice is soft as she peaks. "Mastema..."

The regard was an insouciant inclination in her direction, a simple shift of his head. The look lingered, it was a greeting of sorts. "Natolii, Abryrdan, this is my Discipulus, Tia'tari Blayne. Tia'tari, this is Natolii and Abryrdan." A slant of his head indicating one and then the other in rhythm with the unveiling of their names.

Natolii nodded in greeting, "Dark eve, Tia'tari."

Her curtsy would drop even lower at the hint of the power of a ring, her expression hidden behind a wealth of falling waves of multi-hued hair, the attractiveness of the two figures trumped only by the hint of powerful magic that emanated from them.

He rises from his bow, turning his crimson gaze upon Tia'tari. A bow of his head to her for a moment before he looks up at her again. "We have met, though have not been introduced."

"Rise." A simple word, yet it held so much power. Turning back toward the solemn demon. "You spoke of a request of your own...." A turn of only his eye sending his stare to the now empty area where his female friend once stood, pausing for a moment, and then returning. "Though if you would like to wait to speak of such matters I understand."

There is, perhaps, just the slightest hint of a smile that touches the corners of his lips. "Privacy is not a primary concern of my request, though my...companion..." The hesitation on the word is almost palpable, as though he were unsure of how to refer to her. "...there are unique things that one such as she could contribute as well. And...for what purpose I am not certain, some of my own power was transferred to her...through what means I do not yet know."

She would rise slowly, keeping her gaze averted.

Natolii regarded him a moment as she listened. She had unconsciously stepped back into the role of enforcer at that point. There are so many layers to her.

His deliberation would be held in private, a silent scrutiny within the realm of a distant place. Contemplation would lead to vague shimmers across the marble-like surface of tawny spheres, before finally the quiet was shattered by the reemergence of a relic voice. "I will speak with her. If she is vital to discovering more of yourself, then she shall be welcome."

The demoness murmured softly, "Until then, I do not think added protection to be inappropriate."

His crimson gaze shifts to Natolii, the long silence that seems to be an almost signature trait of his. "I thank you for your concern, but I do not require such protection. The transfer of power has not affected my powers nor weakened me in any way that I can detect...and I have my own...unique protections."

She smirked a bit, "But did those protections transfer to your companion?"

Already fascinated with the byplay, Tia'tari would simply observe from beneath the fall of her eyelashes.

"We must get you acclimated to the Institute. Soon I will come for you so that you may undertake the academy's reception." Another partial bow is given. "Welcome home. The ring of his arm finally releases the touch of Natolii's hand as it descends from its wreath to disappear within his robes. "The night grows long and I seek to retire. I wish you both a good eve."

The smirk is returned, though to a lesser degree. "Interestingly, they did." The look in his eyes thoughtful for a moment. "Though she is the first being I have allowed to touch me past my defenses for any significant length of time."

The demoness nodded to him then turned to Arkon, "Shadows Bless."

He bows again to Arkon, the deep, respectful gesture again as he is departing. "A good even to you, Lord Arkon. Again, I thank you for your generous offer. I look forward to our next meeting."

"As do I." Eyes moving from Abryrdan to Natolii and then finally Tia'tari. Manifesting around him, the sphere of lavender energy would ignite, an inverted radius of arcane energy ringing around him, filling its orbit with dark energy. Once consumed, the Dark Mage of the Shaitan completely swallowed, a pulsating flash of light would herald the exit, leaving nothing in its wake.

His departure would key Tia'tari's, a nod given to her new instructors it would seem, the drawing of electricity bringing with it the pleasurably painful tingle.

As the dark mage departs, he turns to the pair left behind, bowing his head to both. "And now, it is my time to depart. A good even to the two of you." That hint of a smile shows itself once again as flames flicker around him. "This shall be...most interesting." The flames flare up around him, consuming his form, and when they fade he is gone as well.

((Adapted from live roleplay. Thanks to Arkon Daraul, Natolii, Tia'tari Blayne, and last but by no means least, The Anguissette.))