[X] It was quiet. Too quiet. It shouldn't be this quiet. The men should be kicking up a ruckus right now. Both men paused, and listened. At first, nothing. Roderick looked over to Hensen to tell him to check it out,just as a shadow moved behind the recruit and put a knife to his neck. (Assassin)
Roderick stared for at the figure that squatted low on its haunches. For a moment, he marveled at the skill it must have taken to get into the camp, much less the tent, completely unnoticed.
Just a moment.
"Hensen! Behind you!"
Both the Private and the figure tensed, muscles contracting to spring their bodies into action. The boy, young and with a bright future ahead of him, went limp and slipped out of the chair just as he felt the cold metal on his neck.
Roderick stood up fast, chair falling to the floor with a crash. He took steps forward, before a fist connected with his stomach. He bent forward as something came down on the back of his neck. He slammed into the dust, accidentally inhaling some of the sand on the floor.
Private Hensen attempted to trip the figure (it wore a cloak of some kind that made it difficult to discern what it was), but it easily jumped over his outstretched leg.
The Private scrambled up, pulling a knife he had hidden in his belt. He lunged at the intruder, but they were nimble and easily slid out of the way. They grabbed his wrist, and he felt the ground fly from under him as he was sent tumbling into the dust.
Roderick felt something kick him in the chest to knock the wind out of him. Whoever this was, they were good. There was not a doubt in Roderick's mind that the rest of his men laid dead at their hands.
He heard something flying towards his head, and rolled away just as a small knife hit where he once was. He got into a crouch and rolled for the desk with the papers still on it. As long as he got those, everything would be worth it. The killing, his men's deaths, everything.
His fingers had just brushed the edge of the pile, before one of them was sheared off by a dagger thrown with expert precision. Pain flashed across his face, as the sound of bodies crashing against each other sounded behind them.
Seeing an opening he snatched the papers with his uninjured hand. Not caring if he missed a few, the turned and grabbed Hensen by the hem of his coat, "Come on!"
Roderick was older and stronger than the young Hensen, making it easy to life the boy up and drag him out of the tent flap. The sand was still howling in through the dry wasteland, but Roderick knew that to the east lies a forest where they would be safe.
Still holding onto the rookie the commander ran as fast as he could, even though his eyes started to sting as the sand flew into them.
"Roderick!" Hensen yelled, struggling to keep up, "where are we going?" The kid's sleeve was held up to his eyes, and Roderick saw that it wasn't to keep out the sand.
"Somewhere that ain't here!"
The two mercenaries collapsed onto smooth grass as they cleared the treeline. They couldn't tell how long they had run for. Hours? Minutes? It didn't matter.
Roderick recovered first, taking the papers out from his breast pocket. No damage was visible, just a little bit of sweat from when he held them close. He brought them to his chest and heaved a heavy sigh.
He turned to Hensen and found the boy on the ground, tears falling from his eyes. He sniffed, "The others….commander. Rupert and Nelslen and Ingrid and—"
Roderick lightly slapped the young man. He waited for his subordinate to look him in the eyes, "Hey, none of that crying. Now don't go worrying over what's been done."
"But—"
"Listen to me!" Roderick might not have been the best fighter, but his voice alone could bring men to their knees. It's what made him commander, "All of our men, our friends, are dead. But we ain't doin' 'em no favors by sitting here crying. So stand up! You're a Bloody Gull for the Gods' sake!"
The boy was silent for a while, then he stood up and saluted his commanding officer.
Roderick grinned, "That's it lad. Now, the first thing we're gonna need is food. You go get us something. That's an order."
"Sir!" As Hensen turned and stalked his way into the tree line, Roderick turned and mused on the nature of their enemy. Whoever was (and probably still is) after them was no ordinary assailant, that much was clear. What wasn't so clear was their reason for attacking them.
Why were they after the Bloody Gulls? Roderick was sure he had been as careful as possible, hiding all possible traces of the Band's passing through any kingdom's territory. They had made sure to skirt the boundaries between the three major kingdoms, never stepping one foot inside the area if they didn't have to. Even if they were found, the crimes (that could be traced back to them) could be called petty at best, nothing to send someone this skilled after them.
But then why—
Roderick heard a rustle of bushes behind him. He turned expecting to see Private Hensen walking towards him with a dead rabbit or maybe a doe.
He was only partly right.
Private Hensen was hanging from the branches of an old oak wood tree, swinging in the wind. His head bent at an angle around the rope that had broken his neck. His skin was still the creamy white it had always been, the same color as the eyes that had rolled into the back of his head.
Roderick stared at the dangling corpse. He had seen many in his days, criminals hung up in the gallows for all to see. A public execution, to show everyone the price of disobeying the king's will. Roderick had always wished that when the end came his whole company would die on the battlefield, fighting for a cause they didn't believe in.
Instead, the last member of his company was swinging here, just like a body in the slums.
The man collapsed onto legs that no longer had the strength to stand, hands still clutching the papers that had gotten his entire band killed.
"You knew we would be here, didn't you?"
….
"It was never a matter of catching us, you just had to wait."
….
He laughed, a grim sounding noise. The laugh of a man who knew he was facing Death, "You really are a professional. Won't even say a word to the person you were sent to kill."
….
"Go ahead. No point dragging it out any longer than this."
The hiss of steel on leather sounded throughout the woods.
"Just tell me one thing. Did we ever have a chance?"
"....No."
It was there that the Commander, and Last, of the Bloody Gulls died with a knife embedded in his skull.
Sloppy.
You walked slowly, contemplating on the results of your latest job.
None of that should've happened.
The sun was slowly setting in the horizon, bathing you in afternoon light. Thankfully, you had your hood up as the rays crossed your…
[] Human
[] Elven
[] Dwarvish
[] Orcish
[] Dragonic
...features.
That one should've been dead before the other one turned around. Even then, he shouldn't have been able to tackle me to the ground like that.
Taking care of the evidence had been rather easy. You just had to retrieve your daggers, and then make precise cuts along each of the bodies. It's not that hard to make it look like an entire mercenary group killed each other over a disagreement on payment.
The really difficult part was the soldier you hung. A snapped neck is not easy to simulate, and you ended up having to spend longer than you would've liked.
Why didn't I just stab him? Would've been much easier then.
Your feet make no sound as you approach your humble abode. You…
[] Open the back door to your home in the city. In your trade, many others decide to make their bases right in the middle of a population center. After all, the last place anyone would expect a shadowy killer's base to be in, is plain sight. You have, of course, set up traps and alarms to warn you if (and when) someone decides to break in. Unfortunately, in the interest of keeping a low profile, you've had to absconded with some of your more….effective traps. And you always have to scare off those damned kids who come snooping around every now and then. (Base is difficult to find in big city; If found, you can escape into the winding roads of the city; Standard Traps and Alarms, nothing special; Citizens may come snooping around your home)
[] Lift up the window on your single cabin. An Assassin living alone in the woods far away from civilization. You've definitely heard that one before, but that doesn't discount the reliability of a secluded area. First, no one comes by without a reason to, so you can pretty easily discern whether someone is a friend or foe. Second, the woods around you provide some pretty good cover if you need it. Lastly, you can really bring out your more dangerous traps. Spikefalls, mudslides, swampland, there's not a single thing in this forest you can't use to your advantage. There is always the risk of the fire though, and the Elves have been know to be rather "protective" of woodlands. (Base is difficult to locate by non-elves; You've placed traps all around your property; The woods are your weapon; Risk Forest Fire; Elves might not be happy)
*Vote Closed*
