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Assassination

Quick find code: 49-50-465-63746353

Chosen Worf

Chosen Worf

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Stars twinkled in the night sky, gazing down at a slumbering castle. They glinted off of the sleeping guards' helms, throwing shining shadows onto the cold battlements. A cold winter breeze rustled darkened banners.
A sudden thunk sounded from the ground below. A lone grappling hook sailed over the wall, latching on to the closest ledge. A guard snored loudly, then slipped back to his dreams.
A few seconds passed. Then a black figure, clad in blackened leather, slipped over the edge of the wall. It landed on the walkway, the sound of its padded footfalls lost in the rustling of the banners. Like a deadly shade of legend, the figure glided over to the sleeping guard. Suddenly, a silver blade flashed in the starlight; then the figure ran off along the wall towards the stairs into the courtyard.
The guard's voice had been silenced forever.
Meanwhile, the shade flitted between the lush trees and bushes of the courtyard. The guards that were awake remained oblivious; the few that saw movement out of the corner of their eyes dismissed it as the wind in the trees.
The black breeze quickly made its way towards the keep's imposing timber doors. A pair of well-armored knights stood at attention on both sides, long pikes planted firmly in the ground. Unlike the bunglers on the walls, these were professionals; they remained awake and alert.
One of the knights noticed a black shadow running towards the door out of the shadow of the trees. He opened his mouth to call "Halt;" but all that issued from his mouth was a small squeak before a pair of daggers sprouted from his and his partner's necks, pinning them to the wall. The last thing the knight was aware of before he slipped into oblivion was the shadow's swift theft of the door key from his clenched gauntlet.
As the pair of guards died silently, the figure slipped into the dark keep.
Recalling the fortress's layout from memory, it passed phantom-like through the dark hallways.

24-May-2012 19:06:25 - Last edited on 25-May-2012 14:11:03 by Chosen Worf

Chosen Worf

Chosen Worf

Posts: 929 Gold Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
Finally, after a couple of flights of stairs and running down a long chamber, it found its goal: a tall, ornate door, emblazoned with a leaping stag and a pair of crossed swords. Easily picking the lock with a still-bloody dagger, it opened the door and slid inside.
---
Meanwhile, a guard on the wall stirred, then stretched and yawned. Scratching his nether regions, he heaved up with a grunt, snatched his spear from the wall beside him, and thumped down along the wall on a late patrol.
He wondered groggily about whether anyone had snitched on his sleeping on the watch, and how that would affect his pay. Beer wouldn't buy itself, after all.
Down the wall a little ways he saw a pair of legs stretched out into the walkway, and a man slumped against the wall. The guard chuckled; it seemed he wasn't the only one prone to napping.
"Oi, Tom!" the guard called in a gruff voice.
No reply.
"You'd best wake up, Tom, or the overseer'll have your pay docked."
Still no answer. The guard grunted, and clumped over to Tom's still form.
"Get up, lazybones," the guard said. "I'll not have you igno-"
He cut short, noticing the sheen of starlight on the blood slowly oozing from Tom's neck. For a moment, his sleep-dulled brain struggled to comprehend what he was seeing; then, dropping his spear, he ran off down the wall, screaming frantically.
---
The shrill cry jolted Lord Barthelas out of his sleep. He sat up and rubbed his eyes sleepily; then a candle sparked to life on the far wall from his bed. Backlit by the candle was a dark figure.
"Who are you?" Barthelas said. "How did you get in here?"
The figure said nothing. Barthelas quickly reached for the sword that was hung above his bed, but a dagger flashed from the figure's hand, nailing Barthelas' outstretched wrist to the wall. He screamed in agony, blood gushing from severed veins.
Slowly the scream petered out. Breathing heavily, Barthelas spoke again.
"What... what do you want from me?"

24-May-2012 19:30:33 - Last edited on 25-May-2012 14:12:42 by Chosen Worf

Chosen Worf

Chosen Worf

Posts: 929 Gold Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
The intruder reached up and unwound layers of black leather from its head. Barthelas began to fidget nervously, wondering what sort of monster lay under the black strips. But then the last strip came away, revealing a tall teenage boy with dark hair and glinting black eyes. Barthelas relaxed visibly.
"I want payment," the boy said, in an eerily monotone voice.
Barthelas frowned. "Quit playing your games, boy. I don't owe anyone anything."
"Oh, but you do," the boy said, as if he were a teacher correcting an erroneous student. "You have debts to many. In particular, to all of those that you have robbed, cheated, and ground into the dust."
The boy scowled, eyes flashing in contempt. A bead of sweat popped involuntarily onto Barthelas' forehead; something about those black pits of eyes unnerved him.
"All I've done is looked out for my family," Barthelas pleaded, switching tactics.
"Then you do not regret your actions?" the boy asked.
Barthelas' jaw muscles tightened, and he returned the boy's piercing gaze defiantly.
"I did not think you would," the boy said after a second of silence. "Perfect."
He slowly stalked over to the side of the bed, drawing another dagger from a holster on his thigh. Barthelas began sweating profusely, eyes widening in fear.
"Wait," he stammered frantically. The boy paused beside him. "I can give you money. You're a peasant, aren't you? I can give your family all that they desire, and more."
The boy stared down at the sweating man below him. Then, curling his lip, he said, "I don't want your money, you dog."
The dagger flashed downwards into its black-hearted sheath.
--- END ---

24-May-2012 19:49:53 - Last edited on 25-May-2012 14:22:41 by Chosen Worf

Cyun

Cyun

Posts: 2,389 Mithril Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
I enjoyed reading this short story, the swiftness of he Assassin is expressed through the short format and paragraphs, as well as the short sentences adding tension. Some of the descriptions were original and effective, I liked especially the one at the end "The dagger flashed downwards into its black-hearted sheath."
I did find the characters a little one dimensional and clichéd at times somewhat such as "Phah. Mere peasants"; it's kind of unrealistic that the Lord would say this in the situation, and very stereotypically villainous. However, as it's a short fragment it is to be expected.
I'll be keeping my eye on your other works!

24-May-2012 20:01:41

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