The training field was dark in the shadow of the new moon as he swerved and cut, the lacerated curve of his blade slicing through the air like butter. Suddenly the controlled thud of his heavy boots in the dirt was disturbed by the irregular pad of soft leather behind him. In a split second he turned, cutting behind him to lock blades with another smaller figure, in all black. The man growled, pressing his heavy blade down on his opponent for a moment, before pulling away, turning his back to the figure as he sheathed the large sword in a smooth movement. The man straightened, his hands locked behind his back as he waited for a report... Slowly the figure in black came forward, and stabbed its blade into the ground, watching it studiously as it wobbled to and fro. Then the dark maroon eyes that glinted above a half-face mask switched back to their master. "Lord William has been dispatched." Said a cool voice, muffled slightly by the black silk mask. "Then Amrath's position is secure..." He said, "We have successfully infiltrated the castle, Iroh." He concluded over his shoulder in a voice that was darkly amused by his triumph. Behind him, the dark figure adverted its eyes, glaring slightly off. "I do not put such faith in the half demon." Said the cool voice scornfully. "It is not your place to question me, Iroh." The bigger man threatened, the muscles in his back coiled with tension. "Of course," The black figure relented, turning to leave. "Iroh." The master said, stopping his assassin. Silence greeted his commanding voice, though he could feel the presence of the other melding with the darkness. "A weapon obeys its wielder’s hand." A hesitating silence, and a glint of red in his direction, "Yes."

Iroh turned from her master and companion, pulling the mask down from her nose and mouth, and strode up the bricked pathway to the great wooden door of the bath house. She gave a mere hint of a smile as she drifted to the usual pool, stripping her heavy black outer gear. The disguise was limited, she knew. She was not an overly tall person, nor very outwardly built, but her usual black and gold robes were sufficient enough to stifle her feminine form; a hood swept up over her intricately woven hair. Now the robes were cast aside, and the thin golden silk layer beneath them, leaving only a night-black shirt and loose trousers. The black leather gloves on her hands were stained red, so she cast them aside, moving to undo her hair. It was better if opponents didn't underestimate her for being a female. At least then they would put up a fight. The disguise protected her interests as an assassin, covering her distinctive features, which marked her easily as something else. The white hair and dark maroon eyes might have mistaken her for an albino, but even that oddity couldn't explain the fin-like ridge to her ears, the slender claws that extended from her fingertips...or the scars on her neck. Iroh fingered the small white lines absently, shuddering at the touch. No, she was Au-youkai, a water demon. The last. Iroh could feel her troublesome mind surfacing memories long hidden, and fought to push them back down as she stepped into the bath. The water was fed in through the hot springs in the mountains to pool accommodatingly in the big lined tubs, sheltered from view by intricate screens. When she was finished, a large bathing robe was waiting to accommodate her, and she gathered her other belongings, leaving the soiled gloves on the edge of the pool to be cleaned as she made her way up through the dark hallways to her own small apartment, encased in wide stone walls. She entered quietly, putting her things in a small wardrobe. Then she straightened, turning directly to the small office which connected her to Luthe's rooms. "Did you want something?" She asked to the darkness in the small doorway.

Luthe gave her a hard stare, the blackness of his eyes piercing the darkness. For all of her worth, Iroh could not distinguish his black form against the darkness of the room, but her senses were all alert to the demonic aura he put off. He studied her eyes as they locked onto his. Nothing. Her eyes were as emotionless as her pale face, blank, but somehow not unkind. Luthe's mouth gave an ironic twist. She was very image of an assassin, clad in black. She had never failed him. As soon as it had appeared, Luthe's smile molded back into a grim expression as he stepped into the room, his black hair swallowing the light around him. "Have you word?" Iroh probed, breaking the sullen silence. "Another massacre has taken Krya-Hette." His look turned fierce, "Fearghus' persistence is ruining us." Iroh turned her face away, her eyes widened slightly. "Then I will go to the village, Master. I will kill Fearghus' men, and avenge our kind." He scowled. "Their lives do not matter. It was their purpose as our allies that you must reap vengeance for. This will make it harder to take Fearghus' fortress at Noland. Our youkai are strong, but we are no match for his numbers." Iroh was very serene as she spoke, reassuring him. "I will narrow their numbers, then," but if only for a minute, the calmness of her voice revealed a slight tremor, "It is all I am good for." "I will come." Luthe rumbled, breaking her reverie. Iroh looked somewhat startled at that, but nodded submissively, and turned back to her things, dressing quickly. Luthe adverted his eyes, glaring at the wall, until she had bound her long robes shut with a thick sash, pulling a new pair of gloves. She bound her hair in a quick knot, making for the door, and stopped as he pulled it open for her. She didn't waste a second's time before reaching across his spiked breastplate and drawing out one of the two large swords that accompanied her master everywhere. Luthe did not move as she disarmed him, but simply nodded and closed the door behind them.

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