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Description
A hooded woman sat atop the roof of the temple of Helm, shaking her head as she watched the scene below. Blood spilled out onto the cobbled street, staining the pavement red, and soaking the coins around him in scarlet liquid. Another man dead, another criminal on the loose. Perhaps she should have stopped it…but really, what did she care? She was no different, after all.

"There you are." She murmured, hearing the soft pad of footsteps behind her. "I can hear you, Lica."

"I figure it doesn't make a difference, as I'm not trying to sneak up on you."

"Maybe not, but I believe I trained you not to make any footsteps."

"And I don't, when I'm in this persona." She stretched out her white wings, and took a seat next to the hooded woman, dangling her legs over the edge. "People might start to suspect something if they realize that their newest captain in the Amnian guard makes no noise, even in that clunky armor."

"True enough." Her violet gaze slid over the woman's black and grey leathers, as well as the iron mask that covered her angelic features, showing little more than her steel grey eyes, her pale blonde hair, and her pink lips. "Speaking of armor, that outfit is rediculous. So is this whole gimick of yours. The Angel of Death? Really? You know, that's what the town criers are calling you. Honestly, you look like a vigilante out of some little boy's comic. And the slogans! Angel of Death disrupts Slum slave trade! Angel of Death takes on human trafficking in the seedy depths of Athkatla! Angel of Death kills ringleaders of slave trade! Is that what you're aiming for?"

"I don't give a damn what they say about me." The woman tossed her hair over her shoulders, and plucked a stray feather out of her wings, wincing at the pinched feel of feather leaving skin. "I'm not doing this for publicity."

"You're right about that as well. So tell me, how is this great campaign of yours going?"

"I raided the circus today." Her face was unusually drawn as she spoke, and she had to pause in her story in order to rub her temples, and smooth out the tension that came with most headaches. "They've been selling slaves there for years, and the department won't do a damn thing about it. It's almost as bad as the Coronet."

"I see. No doubt that's frustrating."

"Extremely." Lica scowled at the memory. "There was another avariel there. Timid, stammering, no more than eighteen or nineteen. And worst of all, she had…gods, her wings had been taken off. This may not mean much to you, but losing your wings for an avariel is like losing your hands or feet."

"What happened next?"

"She almost started crying when she saw me. I don't know if it was because of my wings, or because of what I was doing, or something else entirely. I told her that I had killed most of the guards, and she needed to get out while she could. But the thing is…she wouldn't leave. Kept babbling about some uncle of hers, and how she needed to stay with him."

"So she's still there?"

"As far as I know." A scowl crossed her angelic features. "She could be dead, for all I know. You know, some illusionist went crazy for awhile, and put the place under quarantine. We had to sequester the place, until some adventurer stepped in and took care of things. Maybe she's with him. Hell, maybe she's been sold to the Coronet. Pretty little thing like her would fetch a fair price with the patrons."

Noting the anger in her protégé's voice, she commented, "Still sorry you didn't get there in time?"

"Don't get me wrong: I'm glad some adventurer cleaned out the place, but I wish I'd gotten there first. Gods, I remember when I was first on the force, my partner took me there for drinks after work. They had pit fights there. They'd pit slaves against each other, make them fight to the death, like animals. One girl, she couldn't have been more than seventeen, eighteen, or such. But she tore into a man twice her size like a wild beast. I saw chunks of him fly about the arena, and she…gods, I don't know if she was pleased with herself, or what. I couldn't read the expression on her face. In any case, I didn't stick around long enough to see what happened."

She let out a huff. "I should have done something then and there, shouldn't I?"

"Not at all." The hooded woman shook her head. "In that state, you were likely to do something rash, which I've cautioned you against."

"And then I just ended up waiting a year, coming up with a plan, only to have someone else go in and free everyone." She sighed, her wings falling forward over her, as the wind began to pick up, making the night air chilly. "But hey, someone got to it."

"That's the best way to look at it." The violet-eyed woman cocked her head. "Any idea what happened to the girl?"

"She was a gladiator, last I checked. But I've heard rumors at work about some new assassin. Woman, tall, green eyes, black hair, carries a sword bigger than my wingspan."

"That big?"

"That big."

"Even though it's nearly as heavy as a dragon's ass?"

"Yes. How did you…"

"I'm pretty sure I just saw her do that." The woman murmured, gesturing to the glittering gold coins, and the corpse in the middle of the street.

The vigilante groaned at the sight. "Damn it. See those robes? That man's a noble. And probably rich, judging by the fabric. That looks Cormyrian-made."

"So that means you'll have to go after her?"

"Precisely." She sighed. "I can't think of anything less appealing."

"Why? You feel sorry for her?"

"Not exactly. It's more…well, what else would she be doing with her life? She knows how to fight, and how to kill. And they'll burn her at the stake for her circumstances."

"You're getting soft."

"Not in the least." She smirked at her mentor. "She deserves to pay for her crimes. She kills innocents, after all. I just don't want to be the one to hunt her down. I just…well…it would make me feel like a damned hypocrite. Not every little girl gets a chance to fix their lives after dealing with the slave trade, after all."

"Comes with being a guard, I would think. You have to do things you don't want, even if your alter-ego disagrees. And if it gets too bad for you, you can always go to law school, like you planned."

"Then I'd just end up being the one to prosecute her, and that's even worse."

The woman chuckled at the remark. "It's too bad she'll be on the run. I was thinking of casting a few strength spells, grabbing a giant blade of my own, killing a few harpers, then blaming it on her."

"Harpers? Why them? I mean, besides your usual antipathy towards the group. But, Ili, you really shouldn't--"

"Oh, I have just cause, don't worry. You know, there's quite a few bhaalspawn traveling through this city at the moment. Two mages, one paladin, one cult leader—watch out for her, Lica, she's going to give you trouble in the future, I imagine--…the Harpers will come like sharks to blood in the water."

"And you care because…?"

"Because your Aunt Lyme is traveling with two of them." Ili scowled, unsheathing one of her daggers, and running a callused finger over the edge. "And I intend to deal with the leader of that task force."

"Deal how?"

"I'm going to talk to him first. And if that doesn't work, I'm going to rearrange a few of his internal organs, and send the extra ones to his superiors. You know, essentially the same thing I did when I found out someone had killed your poor sister for her heritage."

"You're getting so sentimental with your age." Lica chuckled.

"You know me. I'm such a sappy girl." Ili smirked, seeing the sun begin to peek over the buildings. "Take care of yourself."

"You know I will."

And as the dawn began to break across the horizon, the first woman hopped down from the roof, while the second flew away towards the sunrise.

Description
A hooded woman sat atop the roof of the temple of Helm, shaking her head as she watched the scene below. Blood spilled out onto the cobbled street, staining the pavement red, and soaking the coins around him in scarlet liquid. Another man dead, another criminal on the loose. Perhaps she should have stopped it…but really, what did she care? She was no different, after all.

"There you are." She murmured, hearing the soft pad of footsteps behind her. "I can hear you, Lica."

"I figure it doesn't make a difference, as I'm not trying to sneak up on you."

"Maybe not, but I believe I trained you not to make any footsteps."

"And I don't, when I'm in this persona." She stretched out her white wings, and took a seat next to the hooded woman, dangling her legs over the edge. "People might start to suspect something if they realize that their newest captain in the Amnian guard makes no noise, even in that clunky armor."

"True enough." Her violet gaze slid over the woman's black and grey leathers, as well as the iron mask that covered her angelic features, showing little more than her steel grey eyes, her pale blonde hair, and her pink lips. "Speaking of armor, that outfit is rediculous. So is this whole gimick of yours. The Angel of Death? Really? You know, that's what the town criers are calling you. Honestly, you look like a vigilante out of some little boy's comic. And the slogans! Angel of Death disrupts Slum slave trade! Angel of Death takes on human trafficking in the seedy depths of Athkatla! Angel of Death kills ringleaders of slave trade! Is that what you're aiming for?"

"I don't give a damn what they say about me." The woman tossed her hair over her shoulders, and plucked a stray feather out of her wings, wincing at the pinched feel of feather leaving skin. "I'm not doing this for publicity."

"You're right about that as well. So tell me, how is this great campaign of yours going?"

"I raided the circus today." Her face was unusually drawn as she spoke, and she had to pause in her story in order to rub her temples, and smooth out the tension that came with most headaches. "They've been selling slaves there for years, and the department won't do a damn thing about it. It's almost as bad as the Coronet."

"I see. No doubt that's frustrating."

"Extremely." Lica scowled at the memory. "There was another avariel there. Timid, stammering, no more than eighteen or nineteen. And worst of all, she had…gods, her wings had been taken off. This may not mean much to you, but losing your wings for an avariel is like losing your hands or feet."

"What happened next?"

"She almost started crying when she saw me. I don't know if it was because of my wings, or because of what I was doing, or something else entirely. I told her that I had killed most of the guards, and she needed to get out while she could. But the thing is…she wouldn't leave. Kept babbling about some uncle of hers, and how she needed to stay with him."

"So she's still there?"

"As far as I know." A scowl crossed her angelic features. "She could be dead, for all I know. You know, some illusionist went crazy for awhile, and put the place under quarantine. We had to sequester the place, until some adventurer stepped in and took care of things. Maybe she's with him. Hell, maybe she's been sold to the Coronet. Pretty little thing like her would fetch a fair price with the patrons."

Noting the anger in her protégé's voice, she commented, "Still sorry you didn't get there in time?"

"Don't get me wrong: I'm glad some adventurer cleaned out the place, but I wish I'd gotten there first. Gods, I remember when I was first on the force, my partner took me there for drinks after work. They had pit fights there. They'd pit slaves against each other, make them fight to the death, like animals. One girl, she couldn't have been more than seventeen, eighteen, or such. But she tore into a man twice her size like a wild beast. I saw chunks of him fly about the arena, and she…gods, I don't know if she was pleased with herself, or what. I couldn't read the expression on her face. In any case, I didn't stick around long enough to see what happened."

She let out a huff. "I should have done something then and there, shouldn't I?"

"Not at all." The hooded woman shook her head. "In that state, you were likely to do something rash, which I've cautioned you against."

"And then I just ended up waiting a year, coming up with a plan, only to have someone else go in and free everyone." She sighed, her wings falling forward over her, as the wind began to pick up, making the night air chilly. "But hey, someone got to it."

"That's the best way to look at it." The violet-eyed woman cocked her head. "Any idea what happened to the girl?"

"She was a gladiator, last I checked. But I've heard rumors at work about some new assassin. Woman, tall, green eyes, black hair, carries a sword bigger than my wingspan."

"That big?"

"That big."

"Even though it's nearly as heavy as a dragon's ass?"

"Yes. How did you…"

"I'm pretty sure I just saw her do that." The woman murmured, gesturing to the glittering gold coins, and the corpse in the middle of the street.

The vigilante groaned at the sight. "Damn it. See those robes? That man's a noble. And probably rich, judging by the fabric. That looks Cormyrian-made."

"So that means you'll have to go after her?"

"Precisely." She sighed. "I can't think of anything less appealing."

"Why? You feel sorry for her?"

"Not exactly. It's more…well, what else would she be doing with her life? She knows how to fight, and how to kill. And they'll burn her at the stake for her circumstances."

"You're getting soft."

"Not in the least." She smirked at her mentor. "She deserves to pay for her crimes. She kills innocents, after all. I just don't want to be the one to hunt her down. I just…well…it would make me feel like a damned hypocrite. Not every little girl gets a chance to fix their lives after dealing with the slave trade, after all."

"Comes with being a guard, I would think. You have to do things you don't want, even if your alter-ego disagrees. And if it gets too bad for you, you can always go to law school, like you planned."

"Then I'd just end up being the one to prosecute her, and that's even worse."

The woman chuckled at the remark. "It's too bad she'll be on the run. I was thinking of casting a few strength spells, grabbing a giant blade of my own, killing a few harpers, then blaming it on her."

"Harpers? Why them? I mean, besides your usual antipathy towards the group. But, Ili, you really shouldn't--"

"Oh, I have just cause, don't worry. You know, there's quite a few bhaalspawn traveling through this city at the moment. Two mages, one paladin, one cult leader—watch out for her, Lica, she's going to give you trouble in the future, I imagine--…the Harpers will come like sharks to blood in the water."

"And you care because…?"

"Because your Aunt Lyme is traveling with two of them." Ili scowled, unsheathing one of her daggers, and running a callused finger over the edge. "And I intend to deal with the leader of that task force."

"Deal how?"

"I'm going to talk to him first. And if that doesn't work, I'm going to rearrange a few of his internal organs, and send the extra ones to his superiors. You know, essentially the same thing I did when I found out someone had killed your poor sister for her heritage."

"You're getting so sentimental with your age." Lica chuckled.

"You know me. I'm such a sappy girl." Ili smirked, seeing the sun begin to peek over the buildings. "Take care of yourself."

"You know I will."

And as the dawn began to break across the horizon, the first woman hopped down from the roof, while the second flew away towards the sunrise.