When the Day Met the Night

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by EquinoxSol, Aug 12, 2012.

  1. Mel smiled to herself as she perched atop the low roof of the merchant's house. Her dark hair was pulled tightly back, to keep it out of her eyes as she preformed the dark job. Closing her eyes, she allowed her senses to stretch out, and caught the barest hint of a shoe scuffle in the alley behind house. There was her target. Creeping over to the other side of the roof, she could barely see the silhouette of a man beneath her. In this rain, anyone would want to take shelter from it underneath the overhang of the building. Indeed, she had thought of putting off the killing until tomorrow, when the rain should stop, instead of catch pneumonia from the cold.

    Pressing herself close to the roof, making herself as small as possible, she watched and waited for her target to move so she could get a clear shot. A flash of lightning broke the night, illuminating her face for a second, something anyone would be able to see if they were looking, but she hadn't been able to catch the face of her target, in case she was mistaken. Still, this man would be dead by morning, she promised herself that.
  2. Feir grumbled silently to himself as he walked down the dark alley. Why couldn't the commander have waited until the morning to have him deliver his message? Even worse, it was a dangerous message. Why, he wouldn't be surprised if someone had hired an assassin to do away with him. Luckily, he had his armor on underneath his cloak, so he was warm at least. Indeed, inside that infernal plate armor, he was sweating. In the cold, and rain. Sometimes, he wished he had retired when he had the chance. Indeed, had actually been talked out of it by one of his command.

    Suddenly, a flash of lightning pushed back the darkness. Feir turned around when he thought he saw a silhouette on the building behind him. When nothing moved, he dismissed it as paranoia from a veteran just recently back from the front lines. He decided that he'd better get a move on.He hastily walked on. He'd be damned if he failed his assignment. (Don't worry, your not the only one suffering from writers block)
  3. Mel, hearing the man below her moving slightly, knew that one of her few chances at killing him was leaving. While his back was turned, she stood up, not bothering with stealth anymore. Running forwards, she jumped off the building, drawing her dagger in one quick movement and catching him by the shoulders, swinging him to the ground with her momentum. Pinning him to the ground, she pressed the knife to her target's throat.

    Beneath her small form, she could feel the cold metal of plate armor, a part of it pushing uncomfortably into her leg. Almost gently, like a lover, she pushed back the hood of his cloak, looking at his face and confirming it as her target. Quietly, but loud enough to be heard over the rain, she said, "Do you have any last words?" She wasn't a monster, and would honor it if he had any last wishes.
  4. Feir was suddenly knocked to the ground from behind. Next thing he knew, a woman was sitting on his chest, a knife to his throat. She was asking him if he had any last words. "Well, this is about the message isn't it?" As he was talking, he slowly gathered tension in his muscles, like a predator cat. He wasn't going out this way. With all the power of the knight in his prime that he was, suddenly flung himself to his feet, flinging the assassin off of him. In the same moment, he threw off his cloak and pulled his sword from his back. When the woman landed, he pinned her against the wall, his sword at her throat.

    With an ironic smirk, Feir questioned her, "Who hired you? You're good, I have to admit that." With this, he noticed that he was bleeding from a scratch on his throat. Touching a mailed hand to his throat, he pulled it away with some blood on it, but not enough to be deadly. "You almost got me, if I hadn't been careful I would be dead."
  5. She was caught in surprise as he flung her off of him, having thought he would have taken his death somewhat honorably. The force of the throw was enough for her to stumble, but not fall. However, that stumble was all he needed to pin her against the wall. She wasn't used to the feel of cold steel against her throat. Normally, she had been on the other side of the blade. Indeed, it sent chills up her spine, though it might be associated with the cold.

    As he questioned her, then complimented her, she only replied, "I'm the best," indignantly to his comment about her skill. when he continued speaking, she almost laughed. He was close enough that she could vaguely smell the blood she had drawn. "It doesn't matter who hired me anyways. Just as long as they wanted your sorry ass dead," she told him, chuckling a little. Shrugging, she added, "Nothing more to it."
  6. Feir replied, "Well, whatever the reason, you'll have to go home and tell your client you failed. I don't plan on dying tonight." With that, Feir put his hood back up, his helmet on from where it had been hanging on his back, and walked away. He tossed back over his shoulder, "You're lucky I let you live. Last time someone tried to kill me, he ended up in four bloody pieces on the ground." Laughing, he set off to continue his mission. Muttering to himself he said, "Damn it. The boss will kill me himself if I end up any later than I already am."

    I hope I get a chance to write to my brother soon. I wonder how he's holding up off in the capital? Feir shook his head in frustration, realizing he didn't know his brother's new address. Oh well, he thought, I'll find him if I get assigned up there.
  7. Mel's eyes flashed dangerously as he told her that she would have to tell her employer that she had failed. She was the best, she never failed. When he let her go, she retrieved her knife from the ground, dusting it off and making sure it was as spotless as possible in the rain. His back now turned to her, she muttered to herself, "I've never failed and I don't plan on tonight..." before turning her knife around, so the point was towards her, and ran forwards, ignoring the warning he had given her as he left.

    Within the few seconds she had before she would have to attack him, she tried to remember where it was her master had told her so long ago where the chinks in plate armor was. Joints, she could remember those...If she was taller she could go for his neck...However, before she could come up with anything, she was close to him, and pushed her legs forward to slide. Making herself as small as she could, she slid between his legs, twisting around as she did so to face him. Taking quick aim, she threw the knife at his eyes, hoping beyond hope that she was aiming for the right area.
  8. As Feir was walking away, he heard running footsteps as the assassin came after him. She was probably going to try and kill him again. Luckily, he had never sheathed his sword. All of a sudden, the daft assassin was sliding between his legs, and throwing her knife at his face. Luckily, the knife got caught in one of the slits in his helmet, just poking him in the forehead. With speed that belied his great size, he slapped the assassin upside the head with the flat of his blade, and threw her unconscious form over his shoulder.

    Finally I shouldn't have to worry about any more interruptions, Feir thought. I'll throw her in the solitary cell next to the garrison. Onward, once again. What a strange sight I must make, walking along, sword unsheathed, with a dagger caught in the slit of my visor, and a woman thrown over my shoulder. When Feir finally made it to the garrison, he gave the letter to the commander, and then sat by the pallet in the assassin's cell until she woke up.
  9. She cursed loudly as she found that her throw had been miscalculated slightly, and she had missed her target. Indeed, she was so intent on her failure that she failed to notice his blade coming at her. As soon as its flat came in contact with her, bright white spots flashed in front of her eyes, before her whole world was encompassed by black. At first, she thought she was dying, but that fear went away as quickly as it had come.

    When she awoke, she was in unfamiliar surroundings, and it took her a moment of looking around to ascertain she was in a cell. Then Mel saw him. She cursed, realizing that the memories she had of that night weren't a dream, that she really hadn't killed him. Getting over her initial surprise, she spoke, "What the hell? Why am I here?" she knew that assassins who got caught had only one thing for them, death. She had no doubt in her mind that he would have hesitated, and could only suspect that he had ulterior motives for this.
  10. Feir replied to her, "I thought you would be glad to be alive. Unfortunately for you, the garrison commander does not believe in second chances for assassins. Fortunately for you, I outrank him, and I do. This is how it works. You give me your client, you live to die another day. You don't, or try to kill me yet again, you go to the headsman. It's up to you. Your deadline is tomorrow morning. You have till noon." With that, Feir stood up and walked out of the cell, locking the door behind him.

    "What was she looking at me like that for," Feir muttered, "I gave her a second chance to live." Sometimes I wish I weren't so damn noble. Indeed, Feir had been screwed over by his code of honor countless times.
  11. Mel didn't finish cursing for a good five minutes, definitely not a fan of the ultimatum he had given her. Her client was in high places. If she sold him out, certainly he'd send every other assassin in the city after her. Worst of all was he hadn't paid her prior to taking the job, so even if she did tell the man who her employer was, and got out, she'd be broke, and wouldn't be able to get a horse to run from whoever he sent. She wasn't some petty thief, either, so stealing the horse was out of the question. Either way, she'd be dead, whether it was tomorrow or in a week, by the headsman or by her employer's second best assassin.

    Sitting down where he had just moments earlier, she crossed her left leg over her right, pulling on a small catch on the inside of her heel. The bottom of it sprung open, and a small package of poison was taken from the compartment. It was Nightlock, a poison she had created and manufactured herself. It would kill her quickly and painlessly, especially for predicaments like these. Just as she was about to dump the contents of the package into her mouth, she stopped herself, her pride too great to allow her to kill herself.
  12. Feir waited for what seemed like an eternity (sorry for the two week wait) before he went back to the cell and found her sitting there, staring a small packet of poison. She didn't seem to have noticed he was even there at first. While he was just standing there, he waited for a few long seconds, and then cleared his throat. "I never got your name. I'm Feir." With those simple words, he extended the hand of friendship to the girl. On the way back to her cell, Feir had overheard his superiors plotting against him. They were planning to have him killed. In fact, he suspected that they had hired the assassin in the first place. "I overheard my commander taking about how the assassin he had hired had failed. They seem to be plotting to have me killed. In fact, it seems like they feel I am too much a threat to their mission. Come on. I'm leaving, and you are coming with me."
  13. She quickly lowered the package as soon as she noticed him standing there, holding it behind her back like a child caught taking candy. She stared him down for a few seconds until he cleared his throat, and she visibly jumped in her seat, startled by the sudden noise. As he introduced himself, she stood up, her manners getting the better of her. Simply responding with, "Mel," she listened as he told her what he believed to had happened to him, but was taken aback as he told her that she was going with him.

    Logically, her chances of survival would be better going with him than staying there, especially if her employer knew she had failed. However, she couldn't help but think of all sorts of ulterior motives for him, things that pushed doubt into her mind. After a second of deep thought, she asked, "Why?"