| Three shadowy forms came crawling from the darkend holes of the buildings, brief flashes of steel flickering in the pale moonlight. One of the assassins edged along the narrow crossbeam Sethin had been sitting on only minutes before hand, a small crossbow in one hand, the other withdrawing a bolt from the quiver tied to his thigh. The other two assassins swiftly made their way down the side of the buildings, landing lightly on the sandy path that made up the streets of Calimshan. One of the men brandished sleek, polished saber, the cold steel glinting off the moon with an eerie blue hue. The other held a small sword in his hand, along the edge of the blade, small barbs protruded, each one dripping with a small amber liquid.
Virrilis pushed himelf off the ground, as did Sethin. Once standing, the Bladesinger edged his body back slightly, his bloodied hand raising his dirk defensivly across his body, his other hand releasing the Scimitar from it's sheath. Sethin was doing the same, both blades sliding out from underneath the sheet of hair, and placed defensively in front of him. The two elves seemed to move in coordination with each other, without a word passed amongst them, both seemingly knowing how the other would react to the threat. As the two preppared for the first attack, a loud cranking noise, that seemed to echo omniously in the Calim****e alley snapped their attention behind them.
Three more men had crawled out of the darkness, one wearing an assortment of rags and other types of refuse, obviously having sat in wait for them. The other two edfed along the side of the derelict buildings, each one holding swords, each one have the dull gleam of amber liquid dripping from the steel edges. The one in camoflauge held a crossbow at eye level, squaring the tip of the blade up with Sethin's chest.
Sethin motioned the tip of his blade towards the two men, then c0cked his head back, indicating one of the Assassins behind them. "Poison." Virrilis nodded in grim understanding. They both knew, without a doubt, the bolts from the crossbows would most likely be lined in a similar liquid. One cut would be fatal.
"It would seem Trium is well aware of your movements..." Virrilis said hesitantly, his focus aimed towards the three approaching at ground level.
"I never said he was incompetant..." Sethin retorted. Virrilis shrugged in response. "Though, I might add, his thugs often are..." He seemed to add the finally part with a light chuckle, almost sadistic in nature. As soon as the clone finished the sentence, he whipped his body around, his long, white hair cascading around, creating a flury of movement.
The click of a pair of bolts being released was heard almost instantly after, both snapping through the air, cutting through the screen of hair, both digging harmlessly into the dirt ground. Sethin was already on the move, his blades poised to strike at the nearest Assassin.
As if a mirror image, Virrilis leaped forward, his light feet pushing off the sandy alley ground easily, his first target in sight. He landed close to one of the sword wielding assassin's, his scimitar working swiftly, knocking the parry aside harmlessly. As the curved blade came in, the bloodied hand and dirk came in following, a thin streak of silver cutting past swiftly, catching the assasin undefended, and tracing a thin crimson line across the man's throat. In the same fluid motion, Virrilis' body spun, his torso now facing the next assassin who had swiftly moved in to try and attack the engaged elf. The Bladesinger's dirk snapped quickly across his body, meeting the steel of the assassin's blade inches before touching his body. Behind them, the other assassin began to crank another bolt into his crossbow.
Sethin's attack was made with far more brutality, yet with similar grave. As the clone charged in to the pair of assassin's closing in along the alley's ground, he forced the smaller blade past the one assassin's blade, the fine steel cutting through easily, plunging the tip deeply into the assassin's body, the thick leather armour doing nothing to stop the fine blades progress. As the one blade made the kill, the longer katana shot out to the side, knocking away the clumsy attack of the saber, the metal crying out in protest. As he parried the attack, the Wakizashi shot out of the now limp body of the first kill, the keen edge cleanly cutting through the flesh and bone, ripping out ust below the collar bone of the dead man, a wave of blood following suit. The clone spun quickly, whipping both blades around in the progress, tracing both across the, now defenseless, assassin's body, biting in deeply, sending the man back in convulsions, and pain, slowly dying. Sethin quickly turned his attention to the assassin along the cross beam, only to stare down the shaft of a loaded crossbow.
The assassin attacking Virrilis pressed in on the offense, never taking his blade back far enough to allow the Bladesinger an effective reprisal, his dirk moving swiftly, keeping each attack from the assassin from touching his body, his scimitar held back, ready to strike with the proper opening. Off to the side, he heard the cease of cranking, knowing the other assassin to have reloaded the crossbow. A thought sprang to mind immediatly, and began to wait for the chance. After a moment, Virrilis noticed a definate slowdown in the assassin's attacks. Capatilizing quickly on the pause, he quickly dropped his body, and lunged forward, his dirk being thrust towards the assassin's sternum, which was easily deflected. As the dirk was pushed away, Virrilis hooked the dull edge of the scimitar around the assassin, and tugged him about, whipping the man's back towards that of his comrade in comaflouge. The Bladesinger timed it perfectly. The other assassin let the bolt fly from the crossbow. The snap of the bolt was followed by a dull thud, and a thick gurgle as the bolt pierced the back of the assassin locked in combat with Virrilis. The poison coating worked fast, the man's face turning a sickly green, before draining of colour, the eyes turning a deep red, and the body convulsed. After a second, it subsided, and the body slumped to the ground, completly stiff, and dead.
The Assassin's comrade seemed unphased by the friendly fire. He dropped his crossbow, and his hand moved to withdraw a blade hidden beneath the comoflouge. Virrilis was faster. He used the dead assassin as a brace, and kicked off him, springing the distance swiftly, his scimitar flashing a deadly arc across the assassin's wrist, followed by his dirk digging into the man's chest, killing him almost instantly.
Sethin leapt the side just as the bolt whipped past him. He felt the brush of air as the deadly weapon pierced the air, and knew he would have to bring the man down from the crossbeam. He slid to stop a short distance from where the bolt had embedded itself into the soft ground, and looked to the assassin, who was already cranking in another bolt. After a moment, he knew what to do. He had sat atop the beam early, and knew it's stress limits. He knew one solid hit would bring it down. In a moment, he sprang off to the side, towards the edge of the alley, and one of the many crates littering the usually empty area. As soon as he came within reach, he shot his katana out, piercing the old wooden crate easily. With a single tug, he hoisted the crate off the ground. Spinning swiftly, he hurled the crate from his blade, into the air, towards the beam. The assassin saw at the last moment, and unsure if the crate was aimed at him, he dropped the bolt from the crossbow, and moved to the side as quickly as his balance would allow him.
The crate hit the beam, and with a loud groan, followed by an even louder snap, the beam gave way, knocking the assassin off balance, sending both plumeting to the ground, and to a waiting Sethin. The clone ended the assassin's life quickly, his Wakizashi slitting the man's throat cleanly. With a final grim look, Sething wiped both blades off on the man's clothing, and returned them to their sheathes. He then turned to Virrilis, and watched as the Bladesinger did a similar ritual.
"Perhaps now you understand are peril..." Sethin said sombrely, not hint of sarcasm in the clones voice.
Virrilis only seemed to no in understanding. "Then we leave..." He turned to leave the alley. "But, we leave with Ferchen and Rail..."
Sethin shrugged non-chalently, and followed the Bladesinger a short distance away...  |