A Visit...

[Rajst Kalizkhanavar]

((Sorry for the long post, peoples))

Night was falling fast across the entire realm of Dragon Court, plunging the countryside into total darkness. Artisans, jewelers, bankers, fishermen, blacksmiths, and merchants would begin to close down their shops and set off home. A new shift of guards would relieve the previous watch of their duty, allowing the now off-duty guards to return to the palace. Removing their armor and weapons, they would grab dinner before heading to the barracks to talk, play poker, and sleep.

Across the realm, the scene would be the same. People would be returning home to their families and calling it a day.

However, a small contingent of night stalkers would begin to stir and arise, embracing the darkness that they coveted. In the dark, they were the hunters of the night and feared none. They were inconspicuous in crowds or by themselves, unless, of course, one were to look closely enough.

These were the Kindred, the hunters of the Kine, the blood of Khayyin, and the followers of the Path of Blood. To the mortal Kine, they were better known as 'vampires.' But no self-respecting Kindred would be caught dead referring to their race as such; they were above the Kine in all forms, including language.

One of these Kindred that would stir awake was the enigmatic Rajst Kalizkhanavar of the Assamite clan. He was one of Haqim's most trusted captains, present when Khayyin had transformed the royal family of En'esh into his progeny, there when Alamut was constructed, and one of the original Assamites to serve Haqim. Ever since Haqim's untimely disappearance, the sight of Alamut pained him too much to return. Until, that is, when Al-Ashrad and his seperatists deserted Alamut. The, since his elevation to Silsila, placement into the Web of Knives, and the subsequent death of Al-Ashrad and his supporters by his own hands, Rajst had not left the relative safety of Alamut for fear of his life.

==The Eagle's Nest, aka Alamut==

Rajst's eyes snapped open, silently observing the crimson silk interior of his coffin. The Beast within him hungered for blood and raged inside of him, screaming to be fed. He sighed softly and counted the days since he had last been awake. Four months. Four months in a deep, sound slumber. Four months since he had slain Al-Ashrad, his generals and lieutenants, and a number of defecting Assamites. Four months since Rajst almost experienced death from exposure to the sunlight of that fateful morning.

Through some unnatural sorcery, Al-Ashrad had survived Rajst's diablerie attempt and rose as a withered skeletal figure, as dark as obsidian. The second confrontation was more brutal than the first, and nearly left Rajst dead. But when he had kicked the traitor into the patch of sunlight from the morning sun, Al-Ashrad's life had finally come to the end. And, at that same moment, the sunlight had found Rajst as well. He would've been a goner, too, had it not been for the paladin named Akunosh, who, in a great feat of friendship, moved Rajst out of the sunlight and covered him with a blanket. Moments later, a knight named Ser Jorah Mormont came with Rajst's coffin, helped by his closest friend zipcat, an Amentan and a soon-to-be mother. Those were his last conscious memories.

The memory of being aflame, utterly hopeless and doomed to death sent a shiver down his spine. He dreaded just the thought of it, and even now felt the burns, though no physical evidence was left.

Shrugging the thoughts out of his head, the Assamite pressed his pale, cold hands against the coffin and shoved it off, allowing it to crash on the ground. Stepping out, his undead eyes took note that his coffin and belongings had not been touched. The assassin donned his katanas and wakizashis, grabbed twenty of his shurikens, and slid a dagger into each one of his boots. Rajst eyed his newest possession: a pair of forearm-mounted bracers armed with rectractable twin-blades.

Before he could don them as well, however, he checked his moves. There were many open contracts, but Rajst had no intention of claiming any at the moment. Shrugging to himself, he removed the shurikens and took out the dagger in his left boot. If he needed those many weapons on his person, then he had almost certainly screwed up his mission. As for the blades, he would leave them here for now.

Wrapping himself in his black cloak and securing it tightly, the Assamite quickly looked at the coffins of Jade and Akishira. Both were empty, he could tell, which meant they were either hunting or working on a contract. Rajst was saddened that he was unable to see them after so long, but duty came first. Turning towards the door, he would head to the office of the Du'at of magic.

He arrived there fifteen minutes later, taking a series of underused routes to avoid attention. Ever since he had killed the seperatist leader and reunited most of the clan, he had become a great hero...and an irresistable target for a would-be assassin.

Taking a small tome from his pocket, he found the arcane words that would activate the portal chamber in the office and provide instantaneous transportation to Dragon Court. Specifically, he planned on visiting Titan. It had been a while since he had last visited these lands, he knew, so he began the ritual.

Moments later, the portal chamber activated, and the portal flickered to life. Smiling to himself, he entered it.

==A few moments later, in Dragon Court==

Rajst stood silently in the forest, unmoving and unflinching. Unless if one were looking for him, he was nearly invisible in his dark clothing. Voices were being carried over the wind, and he listened to the conversation while discerning its location.

"...authorities found our cave and confiscated our goods."

"...you sure...everything is gone?"

"I believe so. Unless if someone inside our group turned on us."

"Well, I wouldn't be so quick to point fingers. But everything is gone, you say? The goods were worth more than a ton of silk."

"I know, I know. Our...'benefactors'...won't be too happy to hear about this."

Smugglers. And appearantly their lives were ruined. Rajst smiled to himself. It appeared as if they were about to get worse.

The voices were coming a hundred or so feet to the north. The Beast within calling for their blood, the Assamite shot towards them like a lightning bolt in a storm. Two heartbeats later, the assassin grabbed the first man from behind and slammed him into a nearby tree. His fangs were already deep in his right juggular vein, draining him dry of his blood. Before his friend could scream in horror, the Assamite had finished his work and tackled him to the ground.

A few moments later, Rajst stood up. The Beast inside of him was satisfied...for now, at least. And now, it was time to head to Titan. The forest was nearby, so it was going to be a short stroll.

==An hour later==

Rajst stopped at the edge of the forest and glanced at Titan's walls, the gate, and the guards. Though he could enter freely, he thought it best to go in disguise. He went back in the forest and travelled towards the direction of the road a mile from the gates. Stopping again at the boundaries of the forest, he sighed softly, cleared all thoughts from his head, and activated one of his rarely used powers.

The large, pale figure with flowing, black hair and a goatee was quickly transformed into a tall, ebony man as bald as a monk. His clothing were also transformed; the once black and gloomy clothes were now replaced with the gold and crimson uniform of a Lyseni mercenary and a crimson cloak.

This power was so effective that it was almost impossible to identify him as false. The Assamites had perfected it to allow them to assassinate high profile targets with a false identity, keeping their true one safe. And now, Rajst was using it to prevent his identification.

Stepping out of the forest, he walked to the road and towards the gates. A few minutes later, the guards admitted him in, fooled by the disguise. Rajst walked leisurely towards the tavern and entered. Seeing no one that he recognized, the Lyseni version of him placed an order for an ale in a wooden mug. Though he couldn't drink it, he could fool people very well. Besides, what drunk person really notices who drinks their drink and who pretends it?

Rajst sat back and watched the crowd silently. Oh, how he sometimes missed the follies of mortality.