Date: Fri, 9 Jan 1998 01:13:44, -0500
From: Tyralor/Kessell/Destilnys
Tyralor whirled from his position next to the bed at the sound of the first knock. For a moment his eyes were wide with fright. For the first time in a long while he realized, he had not slipped silently up to his abode, creeping along in the darkness. Suddenly, his room was known to another person. As the knocking paused, he winced slightly, turning around and grasping at his hair. His home would in a moment be privy to the sight of a stranger. All that was his, all that he defined as himself and revealed to no one would be simply revealed. And how much of a choice did he have. For a moment he felt the true sense of despair chill his very being.
The whispery breath came again, dropping to almost a hiss this time. The name spoken further sets doubt in his mind as to the benefit of permitting another to come in. Nightshade. A mistress of death and destruction, turned against herself by a new found respect for life. Tyralor permitted himself a faint curling of his lips. A twisted smile. Nightshade he could refuse entrance at any point. He had nothing in common and had no reason to permit her entrance.
The doorknob turned and a crack appeared between the wood and the stone. A single eye could be seen sticking out, clear and violet, locking upon the woman's back as she was turning away, her body displaying her defeat. She had not heard the door opening, not seen the knob swivelling to release the catch. She could walk away and never know anything. For a moment longer, Tyralor stood, watching the woman move away, edging to the stairs that would take her from his sight. He swallowed once, regret permeating every part of his being and he stepped out into the hallway, the door making a faint click behind him.
"You have business?" A quiet spoken voice inquired of the woman. Nightshade, having detected the closing of the door was already in the process of turning. As her gaze fell across the man, a sense of denial flashed over her. This was not Tyralor, but some low lackey, a man well pass his prime. Stepping forward she frowned even further, her mouth in preparation to speak. The man was in the action of moving, his countenance changing almost as she watched.
Tyralor rested against the door as he spoke, knowing his words sounded weary. His head was tilted forward slightly, held upright only by the stone doorframe, cooling his forehead with its own chill. His entire body was sagging, his arms both drooping in a limp manner. Bowed legs gave him a bare minimum of support, coupled with the disheveled appearance he had created by running his fingers through his hair a moment earlier, he appeared other than himself. As she turned to face him however, he pulled what remained of him together again, drawing his spine straight, his arms regaining their power to slip protectively across his chest. His eyes took on a new glint of anticipation as always when dealing with a client. His mouth refirmed itself into a thin line, and his legs again supported his body unbent. He paused, watching her preparations to speak, and knew that he had not concealed his own thoughts nearly as well as he use to. Still, he was of enough sense to know there would be other surprises in store for her yet this evening.
Nightshade watched as Tyralor took a step backwards, his hand gracefully showing her that the door was hers. Stepping forward, fixing him with a puzzled look, she opened it and disappeared into the room. Tyralor followed a moment later, slowly and carefully shutting the door behind them. She was about four steps in, her eyes wide and searching.
Against one wall was a simple cot. Fine furs adorned it, yet the spartan appearance could not be concealed. Next to it stood a rack, containing a few variations of clothing, and hardly many at all. At the end of the bed was a small shrine, dedicated to a god she couldn't recognize on first sight. An assassin's god in no uncertain circumstances she had decided. Then the flickering of torchlight on the other side of the room caught her eyes, and then her attention. No simple closet, the room could house far much more than a bed and a dresser. Startled, Nightshade drew a hand up to cover her mouth.
Wincing, Tyralor made his way with quick sure strides over to the objects in question. His hand flowed gently over one of the structures, his palm sliding gracefully over the stone, gently following the curves around, tracing the tenderness that created the perfect image. She was incomplete, the gentle curve of her left shoulder ended abruptly in solid rock, and it was carried down to her feet. However the graceful toes of the right foot peaked out already, and the voluminous curves of the body could already be made out in great detail. Hair fell and curled over her shoulders, a brightness could almost be seen in her eyes. Tyralor finished rounding her, his arm still wrapped around the statue's waist, and he slowly lowered his head to the woman's good shoulder. Pain filled eyes reached up towards Nightshade. Behind Tyralor and the first statue were several completed projects. Wordlessly Nightshade was forced to take them all in. Light flickered and formed their souls in the dimness that Tyralor kept his room.
"Lovely, aren't they?" A tone of bitterness spoke up. "I have always had a gift with my hands Nightshade, and while I can keep none of them, at least, I shall bear their images with me as long as I can remain here." Tyralor reached up once, and brushed his fingers over the incomplete Jolieve, and sighed faintly, moving away from her. His steps took on a lighter gait as he neared the image of a elven bard. Nightshade watched his lips lower and touch the coolness of the stone's cheek. Her hand tightened against her face, and she began to doubt the ability of the one before her. Again, his words spoke up as he moved through his statues. "You spoke of business Nightshade. I presume you will have a point to get to shortly?"
Tyralor turned, facing her again at that point. He wondered if she could understand what he was, what he did. Why he needed them to ease his mind. He doubted it. He doubted any of them could or would understand him anymore. He had meant to kill her once their meeting was finished, once he knew what he was suppose to do, yet he knew at that point that he wouldn't. He had thought that having to share would bring him fury, anger, desire for appeasement from the one that dared defile his room with their presence. Or failing that, as others had told him, a offering of light, a gift of accomplishment. A feeling of satisfaction. Her words, "They're beautiful Tyralor, all of them" did nothing in the end. All he could sense was his own bitterness, and despair. Empty on the inside, he strode forward, smiling and shining on the exterior.
Nightshade watched the man approach, a light smile played around his lips and his eyes were clear, focused upon her. With a sure voice, he gestured towards the bed, the only object in which they could sit or relax upon in the room. "Come on then m'lady, we have much to discuss".
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
'Well that's odd' I said to myself, looking down at the rider below me. 'Normally they're just silly little creatures that are fun to be around. How is it, that one of them could find tears to shed?' With that thought and more riding in my mind, I launched the first acorn down at Pestilence. It bopped off his head, dried out and grew fungus immediately. I found that very amusing, and giggled spontaneously. It took me a moment to remember to watch the rider, not the very interesting manner in which the acorn was running around on the ground, spreading the disease that it had gotten into the ground, and basically making a mess. 'Ooops.' I had to giggle again cause Pestilence had almost ridden underneath me by that stage. I had gone to great lengths to conceal myself very well. No not really, actually I was just very high up. Still, I have very good aim, and I took this moment to grab both bags next to me and drop them down on Pestilence. Only afterwards, did I remember that I was suppose to only drop the acorns. Both bags hitting him simultaneously managed to knock the disease ridden horse off the trail. I laughed again. Swiftly I took to the ground and then as I watched Pestilence and his horse struggle to get up off the ground again, I simply fell over. It was too much. Pieces of flesh were flying everywhere, and they more often than not were carried with curses of dastardly loudness as well. Even as I rolled around gaily upon the ground I had to point at the focus of my amusement. It took me a few moments to realize, they'd gotten past that stage, and were now peering down directly into my face.
"Ewww..." Was my first thought, mistakenly spoken aloud. but then again, considering the shape he was in, I doubt that he got many different reactions. Hmm. Maybe I should try something like that. With a quick giggle I threw my arms around Pestilence and drew him into a tight bearhug. "Louie! Where have you been?" At that point, I realized I was hugging air, and there was a tree behind me that seemed to be sneaking up very quickly. I bounced off it, cause I mean, it's a tree, I had no choice. They're much bigger than I am. Turning around I gave the tree one mean and nasty glare. "Watch where you're going buddy." This wasn't quite working as planned. The trees were suppose to be on my side. Anyways. I got up and discovered that Pestilence was galloping on down the path, leaving me behind. This wasn't quite working as planned either. Rather annoying actually. Why couldn't he just realize that I was going to delay him no matter what he did. 'Ah well, suppose he's just being a pest' Saying that brought on a fresh burst of giggles and it took me a good minute to get that spree under control. Finally I slipped into the rupture and appeared just before Pest's horse again. The beast reared and tried to stop. Pest being an annoying brat just urged the beast right through me. The nerve of that guy. Well, that does it. I'm not being nice anymore. Hmm. Maybe I should sit down and devise a new plan. But where to sit. My eye at this point, caught the back of Pestilence's horse, and I was upon it a moment later. Have you ever tried to ride backwards on a horse that's galloping? I was learning very quickly this was just not a good idea.
Trying to think while bouncing up and down and staying up..whoops, 'k, well this is an interesting-- "Ow...blood kneecap"..."ooh, that's a "... "wow..look "...as the scenery rushed by underneath my nose, I decided that being upright was a much better position. You got to actually focus on things before they were gone. Course, switching positions on a horse is an awfully tricky thing. Well when it's moving. After patting my pockets down, and discovering the interesting sensation of what being hit in the back of the head by a low tree branch feels like, I found my bola. This being just the thing, I promptly dropped it. This wasn't working to plan either. Fortunately, I do recall carrying a spare. The second attempt is always successful, I confirmed to myself. Or is that the third?
Destilnys calmly sashayed his way over to Camelot later that evening, slipping in and looking around for the Morrigan. Pestilence, however, discovered the bola around his horse's hindquarters and would not likely slow down very much at all.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kessell slipped back into consciousness a few days later, staring up at the ceiling. Instantly, he knew something had gone wrong. What it was he couldn't foresee immediately, yet something was amiss. He rose, and then nearly dropped again. A whimper, a cry of pain escaped his lips. His globe was within reach, yet he couldn't lean over and see what it was telling him. Without water and without food for so long had taken too much of a toll upon him. He slowly slid down into oblivion again, unaware of the effect of his stones placed.
The viewing globe created a very interesting scene indeed. The two parent stones implanted no longer concentrated on the area around them. Rather, their focus was a tight , invisible beam of mana that arched, joining through Kessell's tower, and then spearing from there towards their solitary child. That singular stone suddenly flickered to life, a faint visible glow emanating from it, and a faint glimmer of a red beam in the returning direction.
Date: Fri, 9 Jan 1998 14:20:08 +0000
From: Stacy/Jolieve
Jolieve never expected that her cats would ever be anything other than pets. She knew there was something special about them, because when she found them, the mother wore a bejeweled collar, it's beauty was simply beyond compare and when three more collars appeared, as the kittens were old enough to leave their mother, she knew that whatever it was, that was so special about these cats was magical in nature. From that point on, she never gave it another thought. These cats were hers, and they brought her so much joy, that there was really never a need to worry about it... Until....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jolieve entered her chambers and smiled at the three cats that played in the floor. "Perhaps I shall die an old woman, alone, save for my cats." She got down on the floor and played with her cats for a while, then fed them and went to bed.
Early the next morning, she awoke with her cat, Cristal, staring into her eyes. ::Lerrad will be fine, you know that Jolie.:: Jolie looked around the room and wondered where the voice had come from. It was a woman's voice, it had a friendly sound to it.
"Who are you?" she sat up and patted her cat on the head.
::You're petting me:: the voice responded.
"Cristal? C'est vrai?" Jolie looked at her cat intently and smiled.
::I chose you Jolie, to take care of me and my kittens. I knew that you had a kind heart, from the moment I saw you in the courtyard:: Cristal purred at Jolie and rubbed her head gently against her hand.
:: Lerrad will be safe. I know you are worried about him and your sister, but I promise you, they will both be safe:: The cat continued to purr at Jolie.
She didn't know what to think, even though she had known all along that her cats were special, she never imagined that they could communicate with her in such ways. Jolieve laid back against the bed and continued to pet Cristal.
"Perhaps, Cristal, Elspeth will understand why I simply could not tell her that Lerrad had the plague. It broke my heart to say what I said to her as it was." she paused, then poured out everything in her heart. "I love my sister too much to be the one who brought her, such awful news. The look on her face would have injured me in ways that I simply cannot describe."
::Perhaps, you should think about how Elspeth felt, when she found out from someone else. How much it hurt her...::
"I suppose you are right, but I could not bear the pain that I would have seen in her eyes..."
:: Worry about it no more. Lerrad will be safe, and he will be re-united with Elspeth, in time. Their's is a love only matched in strength and passion, by your love for Le_Fou, but I wonder if he loves you as deeply in return... We shall see...:: Then Cristal yawned and went to sleep.
"That we shall..." Jolie whispered softly as she got up and prepared herself for the day ahead...
Date: Fri, 9 Jan 1998 11:41:01 -0800
From: Joy/TheMorrigan/LadyElspeth/menagerie
Elspeth stepped from the firehall of Camelot, into the snow and waning sunlight. The parting smile on her face fell immediately as she shed the cloak of forced gaiety she'd been wearing this afternoon. She tugged her wool cape closer about her and trudged down the path toward WolfKeep. Her thoughts were where they always were...far away, and wondering.
Since Jaelyn had revealed to her that she and Tyralor had seen Lerrad and that he had told them he had plague, she could think of little else. Why had he not come to HER? She pushed that thought from her, it hurt.
It amazed her that she could function normally at all, still spending her time in the hall, still stitching clothes for Wenn's Elandra, even so much as waking in the morning and dressing had become little more than a product of habit. But it did force her to think of something other than the empty ache within. She tried so hard to fill it with the company of others, the laughter and joys of the lives of her friends. And it never did any good.
She woodenly climbed the steps to the keep and opened the huge doors, barely acknowledging the Chamberlain as she swiftly traversed the great hall and climbed the stairs to her room.
Once inside the room given her and Lerrad by Wenn, she quickly closed the door, and leaned back upon it with her eyes closed, feeling as though it were the only solid thing in the world at this moment. But even here, alone in her room, she wasn't safe. This room. Their room.
Elspeth drew a deep breath and opened her eyes...only a bit more of the day to get through. She removed her cloak, and placed it on the peg by the door. She tried not to notice the space there, where his had always hung. She purposefully did not look down, to the corner where his sword leaned against the wall, or to the bejeweled velvet, silk, and leather scabbard she had crafted for his Christmas gift laying there beside it. She knew they were there. She could feel the little reminders of him throughout the room...everywhere.
She crossed to her dressing table and sat down, unpinning her hair, but not bothering to brush it as she usually did...then removed her earrings to place in the jewel box. Her eyes caught upon a delicate silver chain in the box. Unaware she was doing so she picked it up and stared at the tiny, perfectly formed leaf pendant suspended there.
Her hands dropped to her lap as her eyes filled with tears she couldn't bear to shed. She wiped her face with her hand and stood, still clutching the little necklace, and went to change into her night clothes. A day filled with the strain of pretending, trying to be the same sweet Elspeth, and not reveal the full extent of her sorrow, left her drained and the exhaustion came quickly every night. At least there was that.
She turned back the blankets of the huge bed, and slipped between the cold sheets, curling around herself, her small form taking only a fraction of the space available. The delicate silver chain remained twined between her fingers as she quickly descended into a sleep that held no rest for her. ~~* His voice....the sound of his voice....where?
*Lerrad? Where are you?*
-=He is in pain...Why can't I move? Why can't I see?=-
and then the thought...
-=ALIVE!=-
She stood surrounded by mist. Not wet, no feeling, but the haze...she could look down and see her feet, her hands...but still could not move, as Lerrad's voice, crying her name again, pierced her mind. She realized now, she was not hearing it with her ears, but with her mind. She desperately wished Kavin had taught her more.
-=surely...surely I could reach him...if I only knew ho...=-
Her thought had not finished when the mist parted and she found herself looking into a camp...the groaning and coughing of the sick reaching her awareness...a pitiful place. Her heart ached, knowing the sorrow there.
-=Is this where he...=-
A soothing comforting presence, not a thought, more a feeling...coming from a great distance "He is with me." But gone...had she felt that? Or was it wishful thinking, that someone would care for him since he would not allow her to do it...
Suddenly a rush of images assaulted her, spinning before her mind's eye...
Camelot - Lerrad attempting the fairy dance when they met...her mirth *flash*...filling a vase with flowers in the firehall and glancing over at her...she felt herself flush *flash* standing at the footbridge over the stream in the garden, wind ruffling his hair...so striking *flash* His eyes, just his eyes, very close...looking into her own...she felt.... *flash* his hands over hers as she prepared a pot of tea at the bar in WolfKeep, his presence behind her...so near *flash* the firehall - he pulled her close, breathing into her ear "Stay with me..." *flash* his eyes shining as she opened the gift...a tiny silver leaf, so like the ones on "their" tree...*flash*
The torrent of memories moved on...washing over her...flooding her mind with the anguish of what was...and what she feared would never be...too fast to understand or place them all...
his face bruised and contorted with pain and a gasp "we shall have many children" *flash*a rueful grin, looking up at her from the floor..."Elspeth...shall we get up, there are people.." *flash* the reassuring glance and grip of his hand as they walked down an aisle of strange men toward a man named Falyar Tar`en *flash*his eyes mirroring her own anguish, there would be no children *flash*
over and over...the emotions, the images, everything about him, a look, a scent, a touch...tumbling over and over...torturing her with the longing of what was...what may never be...
a slow dance before a cave on a cliff top *flash* a hurried goodbye, a blown kiss, he pretended to be knocked over *flash* a sleek brown wolf slinking off into the woods...
She didn't understand them all....so disjointed...then they began to replay again....the dancing...on and on...over and over, always ending with that odd image of a brown wolf...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Elspeth awoke, weeping, murmuring his name...and gradually realized it was day...the sun shining in through the window again. She slowly sat up...and wiped her eyes...then looked down at the pain in her hand.
Within the cradle of her stiff fingers lay the little necklace, the imprint of the leaf and the chain pressed deep into the flesh of her palm. As much, the imprint of him on her heart.
She took a deep shuddering breath, wiped at her eyes again, and dropped her legs over the side of the bed to stand and go about the business of living.
Today, she would move her things to her room at Camelot. She cannot stay here any longer, too many reminders. He was gone, he hadn't tried to come back to her, to be with her in his last hours...he had sent no note. Only a brief message through Jolieve..."Lerrad sends his love, he is very ill."
Very ill. Not bothering to mention it was plague, and that he would never return...nothing to acknowledge of what they were together...or...what she had thought they were.
She dare not hope, for anything...after all, it was only...a dream.
Date: Fri, 09 Jan 1998 13:29:43 PST
From: Daniel/LordWolf & Co
For the liberties I am about to take, may the prospective owners have mercy!
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A lone rider slowly moves down the streets of Athens in the country of Greece. All about him he sees the poor and neglected of the city. Trash fills the hard packed dirt byway. Families living in run down building without roofs or doors to keep the elements at bay. A child stumbles out into the street and is quickly retrieved by its mother but not before the rider see'' it'' bloated belly and skeletal appendages. A sure sign of long exposure to hunger. The rider moves on as the eyes of the down trodden watch in silence, knowing that this is their lot in life.
Further into the city the rider approaches the inner core. The building here are white washed, clean and in excellent conditions. The street is cobbled and there is no trash anywhere within site. Here in these large houses live the rich merchant's, money lenders and government official's of this large metropolis of modern man. Stopping in front of a house as large as any others, the rider dismounts and walks to the door and knocks once. A servant opens the door and bows to him. When the servant inquires as to whom he shall say is calling the rider waves the man aside and enters.
The owner of the mansion is in the mists of throwing a party for all of his friends, to celebrate his birthday. Tables everywhere are covered with foods of every kind. Flies buzz about here and there managing to survive even here, for they do not understand the ranking of important that most take for granted in this world. Music softly floats through the air as the rider enters the room. Stepping into the midst of the celebration. For a moment, none see him but then a few at a time pause and look to this rider in robes that has dared to enter into their party uninvited. Within moments one of those present brings the strangers presence to the notice of the owner of the house. Turning the man looks to the robed intruder and frowns. Approaching the stranger the man says, "What are you doing here? You were not invited! Now leave at once! Or I shall my men remove you!"
Famine looks to the Lordling and a smile touches the corners of his gaunt face. "Oh but I was invited."
"Invited? You were invited? By whom?" Demanded the Lord
"By yourself. By the number of sick and starving that line your streets and that you leave to die as such." The Lord of the house frowns further at the Famine's words clearly not understanding. I was invited by your over indulgence in the better parts of life while others know nothing of them." His stays the same low tone but all present can clearly hear his words as if he was speaking to them alone. "You, one and all invited me. Your actions called to me from across the water to the far distant land where I was spreading my blessings."
"What is this, some kind of a joke," rudely interrupts the Lord of the house. "Alright, who invited this man," asks the Lord, looking around at his guests. They all shrug and look to each other, believing this to be some kind of a joke thought up by someone here. Turning back to Famine the Lord say, "This has gone on long enough. Enough is enough."
"I agree, enough is enough," replies Famine. Raising one hand, and with a flick of his wrist all the food within the place suddenly starts to rot and worms and maggots appear. In the distant poor quarter of the city, a gaunt man stops and suddenly clutches his stomach and drops to his knees. While other watch, the man's form changes to that of a large rat. Soon, in twos and threes other do the same and are transformed as well. The first rat lifts its snout to the wind, smelling the sweet sent of food and quickly it scurries to find it. Within moments, thousands of rats are running about the city, eating all the food they can find.
From a distant room a terrified scream of a lady is heard then the tiny clicking sound of thousands of tiny claws on the marble floor is heard. Suddenly a swarm of rats boils into the room and start to eat everything within sight, including the guests. Several guest try to flee by jumping from the windows, but they find they can not for some force bars them from exiting.
Famine turns and quietly leaves the room, retracing his path to the front door. Opening the door he smiles again as a river of rats swarms through the streets of the city, devouring everything in sight. "Eat well my children. Gorge yourselves to death for once." Stepping to his waiting horse, he mounts and slowly rides from the city.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They had found her at last. For weeks the assassins had been hunting her. The six of them had been paid well for her death. Their instructions had been quiet clear that she was to be drawn and quartered. Her various body parts were to be delivered to certain people as presents. Janet Black Glove, or "The Glove as she was known in the business was one of the world's best thief's. She had stolen from almost all of the noble families of the known world at one time or another. But with that fame came very powerful enemies as well. But at last they had caught her.
Yesterday she had ran her horse into the ground trying to get away from them. She knew that three of them were right behind her. She had been totally taken by surprise when she had stumbled into the little clearing only to have a noose drop down around her shoulders and to be hoisted into the air. Left dangling like a side of beef at the market. One of the assassins left to get their horses while the other three talked in low whispers in a small group far enough away that she could not hear them. A movement and a flash of red caught her eye off into the woods.
Apparently one of the men had seen it to and raised a hand signaling the others. A quick as fog giving way to the sun, they disappeared into the surrounding brush. One of them flicked his hand and a small dart flew to embed itself in her arm. A coldness spread throughout her body and she suddenly found that she could not move a muscle. "Oh great," she thought to herself, "I can't even scream for help."
Long moments pasted before a lone rider entered the small clearing. The ride dressed in armor with a flowing red cape sat upon his horse and paused, looking up at the dangling person. With the fluid grace of a fighter, the rider dismounted and started in her direction when one of the assassins arose from under a bush and with the practiced grace of a killer flicked his hand at the man. Janet wanted to yell out to duck, but was unable to make a sound as the small gold needles flew through the air.
War fanned his red cape out before him, intercepting the deadly needles before they reached their target. Plucking the needles from his cape he idly stares at them for a moment before dropping them to the ground and resuming his approach to the dangling person. "That's far enough stranger," suddenly says the assassin who threw the darts. "She is mine and none or your concern."
War paused and turned to face the man, his face showing no emotion at all. "Don't you mean OURS?"
"Ours," asks the man. "I told you I will not share her with you. Now be gone before I am forced to make you wish you had left."
"By ours, I meant you and the other five who are part of your group." The others rise, drop or step from their respective hiding place. With a mild glance, War sees that they surround him on all sides of the small clearing. Addressing the first man again, War asks, "and if I should decide she is my business?"
"Then I shall have to kill you," calmly replies the assassin.
War smiles, the first hint of any emotion crossing his face. "Well, as it would be, I am afraid that the lady doesn't wish to remain in your company. So I shall have to escort her to the nearest city. To do less would not be Knightly." Janet could hardly believe her ears. A perfect stranger was willing to give his life for her. Silently she sent a prayer of thanks to the heaven's for creating knight's like this one. Now if only the Knight would somehow win.
With a slight nod, the man signaled his brethren and as one they attacked. In a blur, knives and part were drawn and thrown unerringly to their intended target. Suddenly War was a blur of motion as his sword leapt from its scabbard and with a clank of metal on metal deflected a dagger, changing its flight so that it embedded itself into the chest of the assassin off to his left. At the same time, his cape twirled and intercepted the needles tossed his way again. The assassin on his right was the first to reach him and came in low with a feint and then reversed and rolled to the left hoping to hamstring the Knight. War quickly pivoted and dragged his cape across the mans face, causing the embedded needles to scratch the assassin and release their poisonous gift. The assassin suddenly dropped to the ground as his muscles froze and his heart cease to beat.
Two men raced up on him from behind, one jabbing at his lower back while the other swung in high aiming for War's neck. Reversing his sword and thrusting it backwards War gutted the first one. Turning he cased the impaled man to stagger to the side knocking into the other assassin causing him to swing wide. War calmly jerked his sword free and regarded the three remaining men. The assassin's circled this knight, cautious after seeing how quickly he had dispatch half of their group.
"You fight well for a knight," the man who had spoken before says. The assassins continue to move around the knight, one weaving his short sword in and out, another twirling his boa, looking for an opening and the speaking assassin holding no weapon at all.
"You die well for assassins," replies War who suddenly has to block a slash from the short sword. As he does so the second assassin releases his boa aiming for War's neck hoping to catch him off guard. The third man suddenly spins around coming in with a kick aimed at the knights middle, tiny needles protrude from the toes of his leather shoes.
War deflects the short sword upwards and ducks as the boa entangles itself around the sword. One leaded ball swinging around and with a sickening wet sounding crunch it slams into the side of the sword wielding assassins head. War releases his sword seeing it is entangled and with a slap of his hand, blocks the foot aimed for his middle and deflects it directly into the boa wielding assassin. A look of utter surprise crosses the mans face as the needles end his life. Both of the dead assassins fall to the to the ground dead and War retrieves the short sword from the dead man before it hits the ground. The assassin remaining recovers and quickly turns back towards the knight with the red cape. War suddenly tosses the short sword into the air by reflex the assassins eyes follow its path. The assassin realizes his mistake a split second too late as War's gauntlet encased fist slams into his throat, crushing his windpipe. The assassin drops to his knees, a look of utter disbelief on his face as he drown in his own blood.
Janet can not believe her eyes. In the space of a few quick moments, this knight has killed six assassins. Surely the Goddess of thieves was watching out for her. She watches as War calmly catches the tossed sword and slips it into his scabbard. Before her eyes, the sword changes until it matches the one the knight used for the fight. Janet wants to scream with happiness, for it appears as if once again she has made it through a tough spot and lived to tell about it. Yet the chemicals still hold her immobile as she dangles from the tree limb. As she watches, War walks to his horse and mounts it. Pulling on the reigns, he turns the animal towards her and rides past, not even pausing to look at her. War wonders to himself how long it will be before the forest animals find the hanging meal as he rides on into the forest.
E-mail comments and/or corrections to Diana/Wenn & Co