Warees Blackwood / Amora Zanas
It was in the cover of darkness, underneath a veil of storm clouds and the thick, industrial fog that hung in the skies over the slums of Amphira, that a pair of the city's most vile of criminals made their way through the sea of people swarming the streets throughout the market, the two slipping through the crowds with relative ease. It surprised the leader of the two to no end that they had gone uninterrupted in their stroll through the ghetto, during which they arranged and organized countless small groups of criminals aiding their scheme, but the petite woman beside him lacked that same amazement, her face lacking emotion or, for that matter, care for how the plan went to begin with. The two made an unusual team, having not one similarity between them beside their pension for destruction, but the girl was chosen by the captain himself to accompany him during the attack that was about to begin, if only due to the woman's unique knowledge of the arcane arts and her skill in utilizing supernatural wizardry that was a rarity among those on the opposite side of the law.
The larger of the two, none other than the infamous, assumed dead pirate Warees Blackwood, scanned his eyes, hate-filled and bloodshot, over the masses in front him, watching the waves of people without care, catching a few of the glances directed his way but felt satisfied that none of those whom paid even an inkling of attention to him realized who he truly was. He smiled to himself, a thick wad of chewing tobacco and flavored with the unrefined pulp of coffee beans underneath his lower lip shifting as he did so, a thick, black sludge coating his teeth. The pirate was, in all senses of the word, anxious, his mind racing with all the possible outcomes of the attack, but remained calm physically, the only sign of unease being the stiffness of his posture. The woman, however, took notice to his discomfort, and saw fit to toy with him.
"You know, sir, if this doesn't work out," the woman started, her head turning towards the captain, "chances are you'll die here of all places, amongst a pile of filth with an arrow in you're ba-"
"I brought you here to act as a guard and to alert the crew, not to be a *****," Warees interrupted, "if you're intending to be the latter, I advice keeping the smart remarks to yourself, Amora, unless you want to be buried with the rest of those that will be slain here in a massive, unmarked grave."
"Yeah, sure, whatever..." the woman muttered, Warees' threat not being taken as seriously as he wished it to be, "Hey, remind me again, why are you attacking this shithole of all places?"
"I have a better question, for you, why does it fucking matter?" the captain replied, chuckling to himself, "I found this spot fitting because of its lack of much in the way of defensive measures, it's full of scum that would rebel against the upper-class if given the chance and, considering the current state of this whole fucking city, probably will if provoked, thus the government won't give two fucks if this place gets sent straight to hell. That's the real, goddam reason, it's convenient. It doesn't matter where we attack, really, it's just that this place is an effortless target, not to mention overcrowded, thus meaning a hell of a lot more people will die here then if we attacked one of the less populated areas of this forsaken, fucking mess we call home. It should go without saying that one big massacre, specifically one as quick as the one about to be orchestrated, will make us famous, not to mention rich if the ***** from the upper districts decides to actually pay up."
"Ah, I see, the deaths of hundreds are for no other reason than to promote yourself? Yeah, I could get behind it, sure, I like the idea, in fact, I'm sure we'd be able to steal a lot of shit in the process too..." Amora began to think, not about the operation and the lack of regard for human life behind it, but about the potential gain for her. It was pure instinct for her, a remnant of her past life as a thief and assassin, which disgusted her greatly, but accepted that an opportunity like this would never arise again, which was more than enough to persuade her to take part in this whole attack. "Alright, let's get it underway then, shall we?"
"Well, Amora, you're the one with the power to set up a signal, so whenever you're ready feel free to throw a fireball or some shit like that, the fuckin' idiots we've got scattered about the area are just looking for some fire, so do whatever you want..."
It was without hesitation the small woman, whom up until kept her motions calm and subtle, threw her arm up towards the heavens, a mess of black tendrils whipping outward from her arm as if an eldritch beast was trying to rip itself from her body. The shadowy tongues lashed high into the air then, upon reaching their peak, exploded in a magnificent, otherworldly display of violet flames, raining fire down from the skies onto the streets below. It was only a mere moment after the sudden display of power that those within the streets began to evacuate, the surrounding area beginning to echo with the thunderous boom of explosive ordinance. All throughout the port, from blocks upon blocks away, he could feel the ground shake beneath him with each house that went up in smoke and flames, the cluster of wooden shanties being ripped to shreds underneath the force of primitive bombs.
It took only a few seconds after the signal was set off that the entire waterfront fell into a cacophony of destruction and riots, a thin smirk covering Warees' face as he gazed towards the horizon, watching the chaos unfold in front of his very eyes. Amora stood, at the pirate's side, watching along with him as the world around them burned to cinder. In a bit, the two would proceed to join the fight, but, for now, the captain wished to enjoy the view...
