C
Cotillion
Guest
Original poster
The dagger cut its way through the air, striking its target with a resounding thwack. Boxer stepped forward and pulled the dagger from the bullseye - his skills had been honed to perfection. He was the top assassin in the Assassin's Guild of Paurthea. The dagger back in its sheath, concealed beneath his cloak, Boxer stepped out on to the balcony, and perched on the railing.
A nervous tension permeated the air of Paurthea; rumblings of civil unrest had been coursing through the rumour mill. Boxer grunted, the hair on the back of his neck rising. He felt the urgency of the night coming. Better get to my post, he thought. As the top assassin in the guild, Boxer had been tasked with protecting the King's daughter. He dropped from the railing on to one of the rooftops below, swiftly and silently making his way towards the King's mansion.
A soft hissing was his only warning. He barely managed to duck before a crossbow bolt struck the wall where his head had been only moments before. Black and gold feathers on the end, the colours of the Kyzuka mercenaries. Intriguing. Someone had hired mercenary assassins; he had to hurry. Normally he would have turned around and fought his attack, but time was of the essence, he would just have to throw his would-be killer off of his trail.
A nervous tension permeated the air of Paurthea; rumblings of civil unrest had been coursing through the rumour mill. Boxer grunted, the hair on the back of his neck rising. He felt the urgency of the night coming. Better get to my post, he thought. As the top assassin in the guild, Boxer had been tasked with protecting the King's daughter. He dropped from the railing on to one of the rooftops below, swiftly and silently making his way towards the King's mansion.
A soft hissing was his only warning. He barely managed to duck before a crossbow bolt struck the wall where his head had been only moments before. Black and gold feathers on the end, the colours of the Kyzuka mercenaries. Intriguing. Someone had hired mercenary assassins; he had to hurry. Normally he would have turned around and fought his attack, but time was of the essence, he would just have to throw his would-be killer off of his trail.