Prologue: II

Working on the description.

      

The Chaos Unleashed: II

 

    Istharc removed his stiletto from the now deceased governor of Llewelyn and shivered with glee. Oh, did that feel good, he thought with a laugh. He hadn't had this much fun at one time since he had defeated Cohen Codar of Celeki at the Field of Games. That was close to the better part of a decade past.

 

    With a skilled flourish of a true professional, he used the knife to carve a flamboyant ~I~ on the governor's ample stomach, slicing through rich silks and gold threads to do so. After contemplating the artwork, pondering the perfections that plagued the truly great artists, he pulled his thoughts together and even managed to say a prayer for the man.

 

    Istharc shrugged. A man had to believe in something, he reasoned. With that taken care of, he gave the body a swift, malicious kick and trotted down the hall. He stopped at one of the large bay windows just long enough to admire the smoke billowing up from the ruined city. All of it was being put to the torch. His Dark-Core roamed the city insuring nothing escaped his art.

 

    The sad thing was that he had really liked this city. Woerin Sar had been good to him in the past. Oh well. At least the Darc'Wer would feast well this night.

 

    He chuckled at that thought. He worked his way up and down stairs, in and out of rooms, unable to find any more people. With an exasperated frown he finally found the hall he had been saving for last. He looked down the short wide hall, finding the glass ceiling that let in so much light rather pretentious. He made his way down the hall, going past some of the most expensive artworks in the world with nary a glance. His art would last far longer.

 

    He stepped into a large room decorated with exotic flowers, plants and mini trees. At the end of this monstrosity was a large door painted a vivid red with the golden lily of Llewelyn. Trust them to use such tacky colors.

 

    Making his way through the room, he kicked over a few of the plants and mini trees-habits like his needed to be exercised occasionally. He came close to barging into the room like an uncouth buffoon, but recalled his manners just in time. Glancing down at the blade in his hand he grimaced. Curses were said under his breath best left to those beneath a person of his stature. He had forgotten to clean the damn thing. Could he be slipping? Ten years past this type of blunder would not have been made. Hell, a year ago it would not have happened. Perhaps he was getting old.

 

    With a sardonic shrug, he wiped the blade clean on his ragged short blue coat. Smoothing his hair some, he straightened the coat and took care of a few wrinkles in his torn and dirty pants. Putting a hand to his mouth he breathe into it, thinking that it would be impolite to go into the room with bad breath. It wasn't bad but he had needed to check. For all he knew the room could be filled with important women and children. He did have an example to set. With a hand, he rubbed the tops of his pale blue boots against the back of his equally pale blue pants in the hope of bringing a little shine to them. Irritating silence followed a smooth knock on the door.

 

    He made a face at the door and fought to hold back a dark scowl. Was the damn woman just slow or had she grown more cautious with age? To think that he had thought this was a well-mannered town. She had some nerve to make him wait! Istharc considered himself a guest-if you looked at it from his point of view, that is- and not a single person had tried to help him. Not even once.

 

    He glared at the door again before calling out to the fool woman. "Darling?" He mimed the governors' voice perfectly. He stuffed a fist in his mouth to control the urge to giggle.

 

    He cleared his throat and counted to ten silently. This would be easy, just like the others. "Sweetheart, it's me!" He frowned. The governor had a rather feminine voice. He snarled.

 

    "Who...who...who is it?" came the faint voice of a woman from behind the door. "Charls? Charls....is that you?"

 

    Istharc shook his head in wonder. If the pompous a*s had needed to put up with this kind of nonsense all these years then he had done the poor b*****d a favor. Why in the hell was she so careful? He knew the woman to be an utter featherbrain, and he expected her to remain in her place. Just who did she think she was? Perhaps she thought she was the second coming of the Creator. He fought off a crude reply.

 

    "It's me woman! Uh, I mean....it's me darling. Please, open the door before they come!"

 

    The door was quickly opened, and he balled a fist and knocked the damn woman clear across the room. He strolled into the room with a practice smile and looked it over with a keen eye. What he saw took the grin off of his face. Hardly any furniture was in the room, and it had a look like it was soon to be refurbished. The governor sure was an optimistic man.

 

    The only other person in the room was the governors' daughter, a little girl of no more than five. If only children could put up an adequate fight, he thought wistfully. Usually they just caved in like no tomorrow. He took a deep, calming breath to put things in perspective. No other women? Well, he would just have to make do. He gave the terrified girl his best smile and closed the door with a gentle nudge.

 

    For some reason the girl started screaming when he smiled. He thought that rather rude, seeing as he was being nice and respectful at the moment. Some people just could not teach their kids respect for those older than them.

 

    "Now, don't do that," he admonished with a disapproving shake of the head. "Now about your mother's speech last year."

 

    As the power was being weaved, the lamps in the room began to flicker, casting light and shadows upon the black tiger-spider tattoos on the backs of his hands.

 

Author's Note

I'll take all the help I can get.