The Greyman Saga

Author's Note: Hey everyone, sorry for the tiny delay! This chapter will be a brief skip back in time, letting you learn a bit more about the main character.

As always, please comment and favorite if you enjoyed the chapter (or didnt? hopefully thats not the case)! Thanks as always!

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Chapter 3:

Three Days Prior:

Greymen have difficult jobs. Most of them are just humans. Fragile. Brave. They fight against forces that haunt people's dreams and kill the innocent out of instinct and pleasure.

Yes. Greymen have difficult fuckin' jobs indeed.

I tapped my finger on the notice hanging from the board, feeling the rain splash gently against my hair and coat. Mark had been supposed to handle this, but it seemed likely that Marcus Hemingway wouldn't be handling anything anymore. He had only been a novice, but he'd been trained by Madame Elvera, just like I had. I had foolishly hoped that would be enough.

I guess that's why they were sending me, as they always did in the end. It seemed the Head Shmucks in Damoria weren't taking any more chances. You see, when it comes to Greymen, I'm something of a 'final solution'. I'm not speaking arrogantly I promise. There was a time when I had felt that it was something to be proud. A time when I was young and doe-eyed.

These days it felt more like a heavy weight more than anything else.

I'm what's called an innate caster, something that's essentially unheard of in humans. That's thanks to my mother. She's one of the Azzerai, which technically means she's partially to blame for the fact we deal with Dreads in the first place, but that's neither here nor there. She wasn't even alive when the Ba'rau breach was first created, so she can't be held accountable for such things. Plus, the Azzerai have been working tirelessly for over a millennia to fix that mistake.

I digress.

The Azzerai possess a powerful ability called Twill (well technically Tu'Wil but it sounds the same). Us earthlings, or reorans as they call us, have taken to calling that power Witchcraft. Having mother's genetics has allowed me to tap into that supernatural well of abilities.

Tethering, Temporal Bonds, Illusions and Lashing. I had access to all of them. I was exceptionally talented, even by Azzerai standards. That was ONE of the reasons why I was valued as I was by my cohorts.

You can't be weak to make it as a Greymen. Not in any sense of the word.

All who wish to earn the title undergo rigorous training to prepare for facing Dreads. Some even die during the tenuous tutelage, though it is rare. They do this for many reasons, but most of the time it's because they've lost someone, or they've experienced something they can't explain. Some, like me, are born into it.

Eventually, if a novice Greymen survives, they're given the right to undertake hunts. To track down and kill Dreads. But, even with all their hard effort, most of them still die. As I said before, humans are fragile. It doesn't matter if you're six-foot-five and two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle, if you take a cinder-block to the head, you're likely a dead man.

And that's only the physical strain.

Greymen fight horrors. True horrors. Twisted, perverted Beings, that lust after the thought of causing pain. Even the most resilient of humans can only endure so much of that abject sadism before their minds collapse on themselves.

It's so easy for them to die.

I ran my hand through my soaked hair and turned away from the traffic board, beginning to walk down the sidewalk towards Cally Avenue. A car sped past me, sending a splatter of dirty water across my thick brown coat. I casually raised my middle finger towards the disappearing lights of the vehicle, but I didn't really mind.

I minded losing friends.

I reached in my pocket and pulled out my phone, covering the screen with my other hand to shield it from rain. I swiped as I walked, checking for messages from Elvera, Kino or even Altis.

Nothing.

I slid the phone back in my pocket.

"I'm sorry Mark. I hope you're still alive you dumb fuck. If you are, I'll be there soon." I was talking to myself, but it made me feel better to make the promise out loud.

I turned at the corner of Cally and Bronix, continuing right, and slowly making for the entrance to the old casino Hemingway had last contacted us from. I could see the corner of its massive sign a couple blocks down. Mark had done as instructed, leaving his sign on the 'dog training available' notice back at that bus stop. It verified that he had actually made it here, and that we hadn't just gotten a text from someone attempting to bait us in.

Whatever had happened, Mark had been alive last night. Unfortunately, he hadn't checked in this morning, and he hadn't returned to his post by evening. Maybe in the regular world, one waits for further confirmation that someone is actually missing before taking to action. In the Grey world, we like to get moving before the bodies are cold.

"Hey sweehawt, you looking for some company?"

"No."

I didn't turn, walking past the scandalously clad woman. Somewhere in the back of my mind I was impressed though. It took guts to do work like that during a downpour.

"Eh, fuck you! Pretty boy..."

I smiled, waving my hand over my shoulder as I continued towards the ever-growing Casino.

350 feet...

300...

250...

I stopped, gauging the distance between me and the entryway to be nearly 200 feet. I held up my hand and traced a square in the air.

"Skais."

That would do for now. Nothing fancy, just a classic radar block in case any of the fuckers escaped.

Content, I continued walking.

Twill. Magic. Witchcraft. Whatever you wanted to call it, it was extremely useful. I was privileged to have it at my disposal, and I was well aware. I'd have to thank Father again for pulling such an incredible woman, and I'd have to thank Mother for settling for him.

I flexed my right hand. To be fair, I wasn't exactly hindered by the lineage on Father's side either. I don't know if blessed is the word I'd use to describe myself, though others certainly find it an apt description. I would say burdened was a better word. I had born with a weight of responsibility on my shoulders, and it only seemed to grow in size as I aged.

Pausing briefly, I let my eyelids close. In the darkness, I envisioned the 'Key' that was etched across my entire back. It was time to prepare for what lay ahead.

sssssssss.

The sound of the water droplets on my skin burning away told me that I'd opened my Tasori Gateway as far as I needed. The other-dimensional coat was in full effect, bathing my mind and body in a gentle heat.

I guess I'd have to thank Father twice.

I quickened my pace, growing eager to get things underway. The sidewalk passed by in a blur of focus, and shortly I was standing at the large revolving glass doors to the Grand Stacks Casino and Lounge.

I pressed my hand against the door and pushed softly, stepping with the frame as it moved forward. The din of the rain and outside bustle fell away. Light jazz began to fill my ears. I kept on, following the short circle of the door's trajectory, and felt a cushion of warm air ruffle my coat as I entered the noisy interior of the casino.

I could smell whiskey, the metallic tang of pennies and quarters, and smoke.

Smart.

The casino had no smoking restrictions. The scent of cheap cigarettes and heavy cigars served as an excellent camouflage to the aroma that drifted from all Dreads. The smell of fresh smoke, and ripe strawberries.

"May I take your coat sir?" A soft female voice asked to my left.

I turned, meeting the eye of the young attendant who was waiting patiently with her hand out. I sniffed the air in her direction.

"No, thank you. I shouldn't be here long."

She looked at me skeptically, obviously unhappy with my response. Her eyes trailed to the pool of water that was forming around my feet from the dripping of my jacket. I sighed.

"Fine." I pulled the coat free and held it towards her.

She smiled brightly, clearly relieved.

"Thank you, sir. There's no charge. Just give this to one of the attendants when you leave." She ripped a small tag from a spool to her left and handed it to me.

I grabbed it and slid it into my pocket, walking away before she could ask me to remove my wet hair as well.

The casino was a large building to be sure, but not by the standards of other casinos. It was only one floor and seemed to be capable of housing maybe three to four-hundred people comfortably. At the moment, there were probably almost five hundred currently crammed into space.

I could hear slot machines to my left, and see tables with blackjack, poker, and all manner of other options for losing one's money. Terrifyingly thin women in small red dresses wiggled through the crowd with trays of drinks, serving those that were thirsty.

I tucked my hands in the pockets of my slacks, pushing the flaps of my suit jacket aside as I continued to scan.

"Andromai, nevan low. Seyori." I uttered the Twill under my breath and a soft pulse of energy scattered through the room.

I watched keenly as the seeking spell writhed into the masses in search of those with heavy Edinmoor Ennem. It found one. Then two. Then five. I felt my eyes narrow, watching as more figures were surrounded by the faint black aura only my eyes could see.

There were eleven in total, and all appeared to be members of staff. It seemed the rumors had been correct, just not about the size of the group. There was absolutely a pack of Dreads running the Grand Stacks. It was no surprise that Mark had met trouble. A single dread was trouble for most novices let alone nearly a dozen of them.

I tapped my finger against the inside of my pocket, contemplating my options. Several ideas presented themselves, but only one seemed to meet the criteria for speed, simplicity and effectiveness. I needed to get four-hundred-and-fifty plus people out of the casino and do so without making the Dreads feel truly threatened.

I pulled my right hand from my pocket, pressing my index finger and thumb together in a prepared tethering of Neyum'cona. My mind sorted through the varied strings of connection that crossed the void to the armory back at Damoria, connecting it to my desired tool. I felt the tether solidify.

Perfect.

I locked my eyes on the dealer at the table closest to me and began to move confidently towards her through the crowd. The table was full, and the dealer paid me no attention until I was within five feet of her.

"Sorry sir, no one on this side of table please-"

Her pale blue eyes widened as I raised the pistol in my hand to her head. There was no fear in those eyes, just surprise, and an unspoken warning.

I pulled the trigger.

BANG.

The bullet ripped through the side of her head, cratering it like a rotten melon. I had taken care to tilt the gun slightly upward, ensuring the bullet wouldn't hit anyone else. For the space of a heartbeat everything was still, and then the screams began.

Chaos swirled around me, individuals pushing and shoving in desperation, attempting to reach the exit first. I stared down at the body on the ground, raising the gun and putting three more shots into the roof before letting the gun evaporate from my grasp. More people swarmed away in fear and within a minute half of the casino's population had made it out of the building. I assumed I had roughly six to ten more minutes before the police were on the scene.

SMASH.

I felt something bounce gently off the back of my head, followed by the sound of sizzling liquid. I frowned. All of the Dreads were still in place, securely under the surveillance of my Twill.

I turned slowly, looking at the young man who had fallen backward onto the ground behind me. He was staring in disbelief at the shattered whiskey bottle in his hand. I smiled at him.

The balls on this guy...

He had tried to take out an active shooter, choosing to risk his own life to save others. He had more courage than some of the Greymen I'd worked with. I was more than a little impressed. I gave him a soft 'shoo-ing' motion with my hand.

"Go on. She'll be back up soon. You don't want to be around for that."

The man shook violently, watching me like I was the devil incarnate. I'm sure he thought I was going to shoot him the moment he turned to run. I shrugged, turning back towards the blonde dealer laying at my feet. The blood has stopped spreading. She really would be on her feet again soon.

I heard a shuffle of movement behind me, followed by footsteps as the young man began to sprint away. I turned slightly, watching him go. He seemed like the curious, albeit terrified, type. I wouldn't be surprised if he made his way to Damoria someday, his mind needing answers about what had just happened. I hoped I'd see him again.

I turned back towards the body at my feet.

"You can get up now. That's hardly a Decaprio level act you're putting on there."

A small giggle emanated from the Dread and she opened her eyes. Her head was nearly whole again, and her pale eyes stared at me, amused. The casino was nearly empty now, only eleven people still remaining besides myself.

Well, not exactly people.

I gave the now-sitting blackjack dealer another glance, then began to walk back towards the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" The dread's voice was surprisingly girlish and full of disbelief as I headed towards the exit.

If I had been in her position, I would have pounced the moment I turned my back. Thankfully, Dreads weren't exactly rational, and this was a strong Dread with a stronger posse to help her.

"Nowhere. Just making sure the doors are locked."

I heard her make a sharp snort of annoyance at my words, but I wasn't worried. I didn't have to look at her to see her right now. The Azzerai Twill "andromai" didn't relay information off a sight. It functioned more like sonar.

"You're another Greyman then?"

The voice that spoke this time came from further away, and it was a deep rumbling tone very unlike the high-pitched squeal of the blonde. I reached the door, glancing through the dark glass at the mass of bodies still vacating the premises.

"Or, are you just VERY unlucky."

"He's a Greyman for sure, Vanny. He knew I was gonna come back from a point-blank gunshot." The Dealer piped up from behind me, still remaining motionless.

"Ah."

Satisfied with what I was seeing outside, I swiveled causally back towards the group of Dreads that had begun to gather towards the front of the Casino, my eyes falling on the dark-haired man that was standing closest to me. It was fairly obvious he was the one in charge. His level of Ennem was a peg above the rest, swirling like a small storm of black energy as it clung to him.

"You've made quite a mess, Greyman. But I fear that your hope of saving the civilians was a bit foolish. We'll just kill you without worry now and be hailed as heroes by the people of the town for stopping a local terrorist. You've only guaranteed us more business. More sweet memories to devour." He smiled at me, his handsome features belying his grotesque nature.

"Well yes, but, actually no." I said with lazy confidence. "I'm afraid no one can run a successful business from beyond the grave. Not even a Dread."

There was a pause as they processed my words, and then a cacophony of laughter erupted amongst the gathered group.

"You fuckin' havin a laugh mate?" A tall man, with a thick mustache said from my left.

He had a heavy English accent and was one of the ones laughing the hardest.

"You greymen really are on it aren't ya? First that blonde twat and now you? Really layin it on thick, all to get a good smashin'."

"Quiet, Geoff." The man in the middle spoke sternly, glaring at the mustached man.

"Come off it, Vanor, let's just rip 'im dry already."

"SILENCE."

The man he had called Vanor nearly shouted the word, and the outspoken Brit fell into an abashed hush. Vanor stared at him for a few seconds, then turned towards me.

"You do seem to be better prepared than your counterpart. I imagine you were sent to clean up his mess."

"A decent evaluation." I said honestly, raising my hands into a small clap for him.

He smiled at the gesture but shook his head.

"Confident," He turned towards those gathered around him, making a sweeping gesture in my direction, "THIS is the confidence of a real Greyman. I Imagine this well-dressed man, as young as he seems, has killed more than a few Dreads in his time. Still, confidence isn't everything."

There was a nod of agreement from the others, each watching me with increased focus.

"And so," The gaunt leader turned back towards me, "you must realize this is hopeless. I admire your bravery in the face of insurmountable odds, but we already know the intel you had coming into this. I doubt any singular Greymen is capable of handling more than what--three Odesh Dreads? Not eleven. Not to mention the three--what is it you call us--'Superior' Dreads? I don't think that was in the cards for you, my boy." He smiled, his dark brown eyes flashing a cold blue for a moment.

"You've positioned yourself rather close to the door I see. Nervous?" He let the question linger, watching me with relaxed poise.

I took a moment to really process his words. He was arrogant, no surprises there.

There was an Elothian 'Superior' dread here, and I'd expected as much, but there was only one.

"Actually," I said raising my hands in front of me, "I was just making sure none of you could run. Being cowards and all." My words sent a ripple of displeasure through the crowd of watching eyes.

"Shoga, ix Veil Sai." I said the words with clarity, ensuring that I had spotted all five exits.

The group in front of me tensed but made no move to attack. Green lines of energy appeared across the doors and windows, reinforcing them and locking them in place. I could see the uncertainty form in their watching eyes. The sealing Twill was a necessary precaution, but it was more to keep the incoming cops outside, rather than keep the Dreads inside. My insults were simply that.

Insults.

Dreads were just too confident to run. I was the prey after all. It also served to show a small fraction of what they'd be dealing with. A human, yes, but one capable of Azzerai Witchcraft.

"Oh my. Twill...I haven't seen a caster in decades," Vanor said with genuine delight, "this will be fun. Stand down, the rest of you, I want to handle this one myself."

There was a murmur of surprise from his subordinates, but no one objected. I nodded respectfully but held up my finger in pause.

"A moment, if you would."

"Sure. You've made my day far more interesting than it was before, it's the least I can do." He gave a small bow, his long black hair draping over his face as he did.

"I want to give you three pieces of information before we begin and ask one question."

A look of amusement spread over Vanor's face, but he gestured for me to continue.

I glanced around at the eleven figures standing in wait, meeting each of their eyes briefly.

"The question first--Who killed the Greymen that was here before me?"

All eyes turned toward Vanor again, and he gave me a sympathetic smile.

"That would be me, I'm afraid. Though he's not exactly dead. Well, I suppose he could be at this point, but he wasn't when we let him free. I believe 'lobotomized' is the term you would use."

I nodded, unsurprised and only slightly disheartened. They were Drysmir. That confirmed it. They had leeched Mark of his mind's joy and his sanity, then sent him out the front doors like a shambling Zombie.

I rocked my head back and forth.

"Good. Here's the first piece of information I'll impart--" I lifted my hand and pointed my finger directly at Vanor.