Freiheit Project: "First Encounter"

The dark street was dimly lit by the gas lamps that hung happily from their posts, casting a dancing glow upon the cobblestones. The cheerful nature of the lamps, however, was rather deceiving. Normally bustling with people, the streets were quiet and the soft chirping of crickets could be heard without interruption. It was well past dusk and the imposed curfew had already taken effect.
From the relative safety of her small home along the Commercial District, Jenohva gazed out at the empty streets, pulling the hair from her eyes and shutting away the doubt that welled up in her mind.
<i>I wonder if anyone will bother showing up…</i> She thought to herself, donning her cloak and turning to inspect herself in the mirror. She was a rather pretty young woman, or rather, she would have been without the baggage that she managed to carry with her at all times. Her tainted past seemed to haunt her, giving her a ghostly figure despite the radiance that she exhibited. As she gazed at her reflection, it changed. Her skin grew pale, her ears pointed, and her lips bulged with the presence of new grown fangs; a suitable disguise for a night’s stroll among the guards.
Her cloak swirled as she turned about, heading for the door and waving away the dancing flame in the small lamp by the threshold to the room. Her footsteps were light on the study wooden steps and taking one last look at the common room, she disappeared into the shadows of the back alley without so much as a sound.


Illuminated by the faint glow of a single candle, Sarlin could barely distinguish the cards in his hand. Alone in the tavern, accompanied only by the old man behind the counter of the bar, he grinned at his personal game of Gin.
A few times he diverted his attention to the old man, who snorted violently in his raucous sleep, taking in the common room as he did so. Even in the dim light, he could see the place beginning to fall apart. The tables and chairs looked ragged and in desperate need of repair, the harsh floor was warped and the perfect landscape for stubbing one’s toe. The masked old elf had no doubt that a good many waitresses had embarrassed themselves and spilled a drink or two. The other carved wood, more securely placed about the tavern, had been a breeding ground for mites and worms, obviously because of the trails and tunnels that were filled with a deep shadow as a result of the faint light.
<i>Sources say that there’s going to be a meeting today,</i> he thought. <i>And not even I know what it is about. Either it gives me a job or-</i>  he cut himself off, smiling beneath the mask,<i> someplace to do some thieving. Maybe even some fun...  </i>
His twisted sense of humor allowed his mind to wander on this thought for a moment before stretching and leaning back in his chair. He clasped his hands over his head, and his cloak fell away from his shoulders to reveal a rather grim looking accessory. As his arms came down from over his head, he adjusted the dagger strap that crossed his breast. He found his feet and the faint light of the candle glinted across the weapons before they were once again hidden by the cape. With the heavy snoring of the bartender in his ears, Sarlin licked his fingertips, extinguishing the sole source of light and plunging the room into darkness.




A few nervous glances about revealed Jenohva’s suspicions about her deeds soon to come. Her light footsteps echoed slightly in the empty darkness that veiled the street. Her cloak, swirling in the wind as she paced, came to rest once she had reached her destination. The wooden facade of the old tavern looked in horrible shape, very much like the inside was sure to be and placing her hand upon the door, Jen could feel the distant heartbeat of a warm body just beyond.
<i>A member of Freiheit?</i> She wondered, letting her hand relinquish its connection to the interior and allowing it to fall to the doorknob. It seemed as though it had not been opened in years, budging only slightly at her insistence to get inside.
<i>No wonder,</i> she thought,<i> it’s locked.</i> She fingered at the handle, finding the keyhole that had obviously been well used, considering the number of scratches and dents about its perimeter. He finger narrowed, slipping into the keyhole like a glove. As she twisted the digit, she could hear the tumblers working in the quiet of the night. The lock clicked with what sounded like a boom of thunder, interrupting the silence. The door swung freely open, and peering through the dark would have been much harder had it not been for the infrared spectrum she was seeing. The room seemed to be a cool blue, hardly any definition between one object and another, all except in one spot. The warm blood that coursed through the man’s veins shone like a beacon to the shifter, and with a slight smirk, she decided to break the ice.
“Hello,” she said simply and without fear.
The man jumped slightly at the sudden sound and instinctively his hand rose to a dagger that had been pinned upon his chest.
“I suppose you’re the one whose trying to set up a meeting in a place that just so happens to be my favorite hide out.” His voice was dripping with accusation, “What is this meeting?”
“Instead of explaining myself to you,” she replied, averting the request, “how about you step into the light and tell me who you are?” This was not a request, but a steely demand. She hadn’t moved from the doorway, but her hand that was so intimately engaged with the door only moments ago now emanated a dull cobalt light.


Confronted with this demanding figure, whose features were hidden behind the glare of her glowing hand, Sarlin was wary of her request. In his line of work, such a statement was obviously a trap, which led him to trust his daggers more than the woman before him. Backing away from the mysterious figure in the door, his hand tightened upon the grip of his weapon.
Carefully he inspected the faint glow where she beckoned, slowly allowing himself to be drawn to it.
“You can obviously see me already,” He stated, “though how do I know whose side you’re on?” It was a just question, considering she had barged in, disturbing his peace and then making demands. The grin behind his mask faded as he contemplated the situation. “Friend,” he began, “or foe?”
The woman hesitated for a moment, no doubt scanning over the darkly clad figure before her. She obviously noticed his distrust for she adjusted her hand. He could see the woman clearly now; pale skin, pointed ears and a set of fangs revealed her business among the pitch black streets. She was simply dressed, clad in a dark cloak, short tunic and a set of breeches to match.
“Would it matter to the one holding the dagger?” she replied coolly. Her hand brightened slightly as she continued, “please take your hand off it, for I am not one to attack without provocation.” A sly look crossed her face as she finished, “and I’m sure you’re not stupid enough to do that are you?”
He stepped forward, the light from the woman’s glowing hand filling each fold of his outfit and his eyes gleaming out from behind the mask that hid his identity. The green orbs seemed to posses a fire to them as they looked over the woman once again.
“A rougue always has a trick up his sleeve, not stupidity.” He retorted, “You just never know who to trust these days.” With a shrug, he turned on his heel, busying himself with the candles that were the only source of light in the old tavern. Each match flared as he lit them, providing a sudden brightness to the room before dying low and used to light each waxy statue. He couldn’t help but keep an eye on the woman, who still had not moved from the threshold of his pirated little tavern. He continued his thought, erecting himself and turning to the woman.
“Though of anyone in this dump, I suppose you’re the only one who can offer me a job.”


A small mousy girl sat beside The Laughing Jackal, a bottle of milk clutched in her hand and a small white ring on her lips. Her nice dress had become soiled with the dirt and grime of the local alleys and tonight was no different. The cool air, hinted with a bit of humidity, made the dress stick to her pale, clammy skin and the empty bottles that lay strewn beside her uncovered the fact that she had been waiting here a while. Rumors had trickled about the dark passages and shady areas where no unwanted eyes would think to look, about the group Freiheit. Of course, the rumors were all exaggerated and false, yet still they peaked Amidi’s interest, despite their alleged intentions.
<i>Brave lot…</i>She thought to herself, adjusting her back to the wall of the old tavern. She could hear some noise from inside; lulling whispers and a quiet and heated exchange of words sighed out from the broken window above her head. As discreetly as lycanly possible, she found her feet and peered through the glass, only to be greeted by a curtain of darkness. She nearly sank to her knees but caught her self once she had noticed a faint light at the opposite corner of the building. The light hardly illuminated anything, save for the two souls inside. Amidi couldn’t help herself, and scurried around the corner for a better look.


Trees flew past, as quickly as they appeared in the darkness, they were gone, surrendered to the past as the large cat raced through the forest. The moonlight that sifted through the dense canopy revealed small portions of its powerful frame. A bit of stripe here, a glint in the eye there, and soon the whole image a Burmese tiger began to unfold. The intense yellow eyes that shone out from its brow scanned every bit of land that came before her. Rocks and tree stumps were no matter for the agile tiger as she sped onward.
Emerging from the trees and confronted with the barley fields that waved and swayed in the light breeze, Melody could see her destination off in the valley just ahead. She paused for a moment, taking in the city, now dark and uninviting. Panting slightly, she continued, her paws throwing up the thin layer of dirt that lay upon the surface of the path. Just as the trees had before, the reeds and barley flowed by in an almost liquid state until she reached the outskirts of the city and the commercial district that she’d managed to find herself in. Her tail flicked this way and that, obviously her mind was occupied with something. It might have been the fact that she was of a rare breed, and likely to be killed on sight. As this crossed her mind, her pointed ears flattened against her head and her gaze became shifty.
She neared her final target, and noticing the girl peeking in through the window, she froze. Something was off about her, she could feel it. Her eyes narrowed as she approached the window and the grime that covered its surface. Shallow breathing and soft pads allowed her not to be noticed, and she peered through the window bedside the girl. Resting her chin upon the window sill, she could barely see the interior, still dark with a single light illuminating the two figures within.


Jenohva suddenly swooped on the man, extinguishing the flames of the candles quickly. Her face inches from his, she hissed through her teeth, "What part of a secret meeting do you not understand? If I wanted to light this room like the Palace, I would have lit you on fire myself!" She gave him one last look, and stepped back into the darkness.
"It depends where your loyalties lie, if we're to give you a job? What are you willing to risk for gold?" She asked coldly, more of investigation into the man’s true motivations. Her gaze shifted to the door, full of impatience. <i>They should be here any minute... </i>
Sarlin was shaken with the idea of being touched, let alone being manhandled like he had. He found a seat on the nearby table, alighting himself with some reluctance and disgruntled emotion.
“Frankly its my home where you have decided to hold your ‘secret’ meeting” he complained, “and as for what I’ll do for gold, I’m a mercenary, it is my job to do whatever I have to for gold...” he paused, “or a worthy cause.”
Some movement outside drew their attention, and with the dim light provided by  the dark sky, the two them could barely make out the figure stealing a peek from the window. On an impulse, Jenohva’s form darkened, seeping into the black that surrounded her and breaking apart into countless specks that danced and flowed over the floor and collected themselves outside the door in the cool night air. Now again a solid form, she placed what she would have called her forearm, had it not been a glinting blade, at the young girl’s throat.
"What have we here? A spy?" A twisted smile found its way to the pale woman’s visage, her pointed fangs dripping with saliva and cruel inquiry. The girl yelped slightly before Jenohva’s hand clapped quickly over her mouth. She fell back against the soft cotton breeches the Jenohva had worn, startled at the blade near her throat.
“A spy?” The girl’s frantic eyes searched for a face to go with the blade. “Me?” Scurrying out from beneath the shifter’s foreboding presence, she managed to stand, collecting herself into a much more cheerful and positive figure. Dusting off her skirt, she replied more thoroughly to her attacker’s question. “I’m a…” she paused for a moment, trying to remember what they called back home, “I’m a lycan. Not a spy,” a cheerful smile seemed to appear on her countenance, “and I’m here for the…uh…” She broke off the thought as she glanced in the window, assuming it would not be wise to mention it out in the open.
“Very well then,” she said, straightening up and inspecting the girl, “please go inside and tell the man in there that I sent you.” As she turned to follow the mangy girl into the tavern she called over her shoulder at the remaining figure. “Save us both some time and come out.”
The hushed growling of the large tiger was audible as she stepped out of the pitch shadows and attempted to reply. She seemed annoyed at her own forgetfulness and began to glow slightly as the joints and bones of her body rearranged, returning to her bipedal human form.
“I apologize,” she repeated, “just trying not to get myself killed at the moment.” The woman’s shifty glances were understandable, considering the time of night and the mysterious nature in which events were beginning to unfold. “I heard about this from some others,” she explained, “and I’m here to help.” A weak smile flitted across her face as she shifted her eyes to take in the woman who called for her.
Jenohva looked her over, silent for a moment or two, muttering under her breath about the fact she was faced with a tiger half breed. Such a rare sight was sure to draw unwanted attention, and she contemplated whether or not to kill the creature where she stood. Her eyes were diverted to the surroundings momentarily as she did so. Not wanting to have to clean the mess that killing her would surely mean, she beckoned her inside, closing the door quietly but firmly as she crossed through the frame.
The cheerful little girl had found her way into the darkness, taking the busted old tavern in inch by inch. Her violet eyes, seeing deep into the shadowy recesses of the large room flitted this way and that, searching for the dark figure that surely loomed within. Her eyes fixed first upon the countless daggers the figure bore, and gulping back the lump of fear that grew in her already dry throat, she explained her presence thinking it would be in her very best interest to give him some space. Six feet ought to do it, she rationed.
“The scary lady sent me,” a wide grin hiding her (unsureness) as she stuck a thumb over her shoulder, pointing to the door. Her long dark hair framed the smile like a picture, a picture that had been copied a thousand times over and could be easily identified as a fake. She timidly took a half step forward, shuffling her feet and providing a brief soundtrack to the silence. It seemed to close the tiny gap of extra space she provided him and opened the gates of conversation. “Are you here for the meeting?” She asked, her voice trembling with either nervousness or excitement.
Sarlin’s eyed the girl from the shadows, reserving judgment until he finally spoke in return.
“Scary lady is a bit accurate actually,” he said flatly, a grin forming behind the dark veil of his mask. Chuckling, he continued. “I live here actually, and I managed to hear some tidbit of a meeting occurring here,” his gaze pierced the young girl, coming to rest on the cloaked woman who had secured the only way in, “and I decided to stick around for a listen.” He paused briefly, his emerald orbs locking with those of Jenohva. “Sadly, I was spotted.” The smile that had found its way to his face vanished as he said this, reminded that the rather rude intruder had disturbed him.
Melody had situated herself in the crook of a column that jutted from the wall, making the aching body of hers comfortable before she was forced to do anything else. The demonic purple wells seemed to fade to a more normal hazel color as they adjusted to the stark change in light. They observed the conversation of the two least threatening characters she’d seen during the course of the night’s events, listening in while they chatted.
The girl fiddled with her dress a bit as she couldn’t help but smile at the man’s explanation. “Live here?” She was slightly amazed, “I’m here because I want to do a little ‘digging’. Something isn’t right here and…” She trailed off at the appearance of the two other females that now stared at her rambling, over-excited nature. Her eyes directed themselves to the floor, or more accurately, her feet, as she fidgeted in place more a moment. Relinquishing her attention to something more interesting, she pondered on a place to rest, walking toward the mite eaten walls and keeping in mind the distance she had given the intimidating old elf.
Jenohva shot a disgruntled look at the lycan girl and the mercenary. "So now I'm scary-lady?" This discovery was not even slightly amusing to the pale woman, but this time she would allow it to fizzle as she finished her business at the door. Shutting it behind her, she locked it, waving her hand over the face of the lock, placing a ward over it. Her hurried steps took her to each of the windows, and drawing the shades, blocked the meeting from possible agents of the Master. Once the room was completely hidden from curious eyes, she turned to face the group before her.
"Most of you know why you're here. For those who don't, I will explain in a moment. But first, I am Jenohva, the Shifter. I am the leader of this meeting, and you will treat me with the respect as such. Please, I ask that you introduce yourselves, but be cautious, there is no such thing as safety here. Anyone could be listening." It was the most she had said all at once and the bewildered looks upon the groups’ faces did not inspire her confidence.