Post by Waylander on Nov 11, 2005 19:32:17 GMT
As the last drop fell from the rim of the bottle, into the glass, he sat it down onto the small table. The firelight glinted off the glass, yellows and oranges dancing through liquid. It was the only illumination in the room, but it was a large fire, and it created a large amount of light, and even darker shadows.
The man leant forward and passed the glass to a man sat opposite him, leant back, and picked up his own glass, taking a small sip, then returning it to the table.
"Go on..." the first man said, in a deep, but quiet voice.
"Well.." said the second man, fidgeting a little in his chair. His clothes certainly werent suited for this heat. With their radiant colors, and expensive layers, they did little in the way of ventilation. The man opposite him did not seem to mind the heat, though in truth he was hard pressed to tell. The fire was situated mostly behind the man, leaving little more than a profile to be observed. from this he could see that he was not a large man, but very confident in the way he sat. on his head, he could make out silver, perhaps grey, reflecting in the firelight, tied back in a tight ponytail. other than that, he was a shadow.
"As i said..." he continued, trying to minimise his shuffling "The man is a thief, and a liar, not to mention an immoral so and so! he owes me more than five hundred gold in credit, from purchases more than a year old, not to mention the fact he has stolen two of my customers! He says he did no such thing, but it is plain to see..."
The man opposite raised his hand.
"Yes, yes, it is not neccesary to inform me of the monetary details, i am asking for more...practical information."
The trader tried to resume his look of nonchalance, without much luck.
"What kind of practical ..information?"
The man took another sip of his drink.
"I was thinking more along the lines of...what exactly you wanted doing to this man, and how much you would be prepared to pay to have it done?"
What was going through the mans head at this precise time, was a mixture of feelings. He was getting old, old enough to resent the passing years. He had done meets like this hudreds of times in the past, admittedly they hadnt been in the comfort that they were now, he had build up to this, but it was all the same. He was already calculating plans and ideas from what he knew of the supposed target. Where his shop was, how many exits, routes to his house from there, direct, and indirect. He barely knew he was thinking of it himself, they were like whispers of wind floating unnoticed through his head quietly. What he was actively thinking of was a little different. In the last few jobs he had done he had noticed increasing problems.
One month back, while supposedly waiting for a man to turn up in his house, he had been sat on a roof a number of houses away. He knew his crossbow was up to the shot, especially with the lack of wind on the night, and the line of sight was clear, though narrow. Very narrow, in fact, but he had acomplished better shots before.
He had literally, a very small window of opportunity, about a foot square window, and he watched it like a hawk for several hours. After a while, he did indeed spot movement, but it was unclear. He blinked his eyes, watching the form in the window, and it moved off to the right and out of his view. He cursed silently to himself, and waited for another opportunity. Twice more, he saw movement, and couldnt see it clearly enough to take the shot, but he did anyway. Therein lied his mistake.
A Thud sounded, as the bolt hit the frame of the window. He didnt wait to see any reation, he slid down the roof, and immidiatly started meandering his way toward the house.
As he got there, he saw three people outside the window, looking around. He moved silently closer, and brought up his crossbow, freshly loaded. His choices were a male and a female, and a small child, a boy.
He decided the woman first, as they were more prone to screaming like idiots.
He raised his arm, and a bolt silently thudded into her eyesocket. She looked a might confused for a second, then fell to the ground.
As the man turned round to see what had happened, a black handled knife shaft appeared in his neck as if by magic.
The little boy looked at his mother, then his father both fall over, and had little time to wonder what they were doing, as a shadow walked up to him, and then past him. He watched him walk away with curiosity, then turned back to his parents.
Then he too fell over, wondering why his shirt was suddenly very wet. Oh well, he thought faintly. he was a little too tired to be wondering about that, and fell into a long, long sleep next to his dead parents.
It wasnt so much missing that had annoyed him, it was taking the shot when he knew he wasnt sure of a kill. He had made better shots before, that was true...when he was younger.
"But your not young now!" he thought to himself angrily.
"You will just have to get used to that fact you senile idiot. you have nothing to prove, so dont go getting yourself killed by trying".
To top it all off, there were three dead bodys in the street. He hated being messy, but he was cold, his joints were starting to ache slightly, and he wanted a drink.
"Six hundred gold".
And with that, Marek snapped out of the daydream he realised he had let himself slip into (something else which he had to stop).
"Mr Henrys, i am not a hired killer, or a thug. I am an Assassin with thirty years of experience. I do not leave the warmth of my fire for less than one thousand. If this is not to your liking, there are plently of cheaper, less reliable people out there willing to stick a knife in your friends back."
With that, Mr Henrys stood up, his face a pinker shade than it had been moments ago, threw a large pouch onto the table.
"Just get it done" then he turned and left.
Marek half grinned, and downed his drink. Leaning forward to pick up the bag, his back twinged.
"im getting to bloody old for this..."he sighed, counting the money.
The man leant forward and passed the glass to a man sat opposite him, leant back, and picked up his own glass, taking a small sip, then returning it to the table.
"Go on..." the first man said, in a deep, but quiet voice.
"Well.." said the second man, fidgeting a little in his chair. His clothes certainly werent suited for this heat. With their radiant colors, and expensive layers, they did little in the way of ventilation. The man opposite him did not seem to mind the heat, though in truth he was hard pressed to tell. The fire was situated mostly behind the man, leaving little more than a profile to be observed. from this he could see that he was not a large man, but very confident in the way he sat. on his head, he could make out silver, perhaps grey, reflecting in the firelight, tied back in a tight ponytail. other than that, he was a shadow.
"As i said..." he continued, trying to minimise his shuffling "The man is a thief, and a liar, not to mention an immoral so and so! he owes me more than five hundred gold in credit, from purchases more than a year old, not to mention the fact he has stolen two of my customers! He says he did no such thing, but it is plain to see..."
The man opposite raised his hand.
"Yes, yes, it is not neccesary to inform me of the monetary details, i am asking for more...practical information."
The trader tried to resume his look of nonchalance, without much luck.
"What kind of practical ..information?"
The man took another sip of his drink.
"I was thinking more along the lines of...what exactly you wanted doing to this man, and how much you would be prepared to pay to have it done?"
What was going through the mans head at this precise time, was a mixture of feelings. He was getting old, old enough to resent the passing years. He had done meets like this hudreds of times in the past, admittedly they hadnt been in the comfort that they were now, he had build up to this, but it was all the same. He was already calculating plans and ideas from what he knew of the supposed target. Where his shop was, how many exits, routes to his house from there, direct, and indirect. He barely knew he was thinking of it himself, they were like whispers of wind floating unnoticed through his head quietly. What he was actively thinking of was a little different. In the last few jobs he had done he had noticed increasing problems.
One month back, while supposedly waiting for a man to turn up in his house, he had been sat on a roof a number of houses away. He knew his crossbow was up to the shot, especially with the lack of wind on the night, and the line of sight was clear, though narrow. Very narrow, in fact, but he had acomplished better shots before.
He had literally, a very small window of opportunity, about a foot square window, and he watched it like a hawk for several hours. After a while, he did indeed spot movement, but it was unclear. He blinked his eyes, watching the form in the window, and it moved off to the right and out of his view. He cursed silently to himself, and waited for another opportunity. Twice more, he saw movement, and couldnt see it clearly enough to take the shot, but he did anyway. Therein lied his mistake.
A Thud sounded, as the bolt hit the frame of the window. He didnt wait to see any reation, he slid down the roof, and immidiatly started meandering his way toward the house.
As he got there, he saw three people outside the window, looking around. He moved silently closer, and brought up his crossbow, freshly loaded. His choices were a male and a female, and a small child, a boy.
He decided the woman first, as they were more prone to screaming like idiots.
He raised his arm, and a bolt silently thudded into her eyesocket. She looked a might confused for a second, then fell to the ground.
As the man turned round to see what had happened, a black handled knife shaft appeared in his neck as if by magic.
The little boy looked at his mother, then his father both fall over, and had little time to wonder what they were doing, as a shadow walked up to him, and then past him. He watched him walk away with curiosity, then turned back to his parents.
Then he too fell over, wondering why his shirt was suddenly very wet. Oh well, he thought faintly. he was a little too tired to be wondering about that, and fell into a long, long sleep next to his dead parents.
It wasnt so much missing that had annoyed him, it was taking the shot when he knew he wasnt sure of a kill. He had made better shots before, that was true...when he was younger.
"But your not young now!" he thought to himself angrily.
"You will just have to get used to that fact you senile idiot. you have nothing to prove, so dont go getting yourself killed by trying".
To top it all off, there were three dead bodys in the street. He hated being messy, but he was cold, his joints were starting to ache slightly, and he wanted a drink.
"Six hundred gold".
And with that, Marek snapped out of the daydream he realised he had let himself slip into (something else which he had to stop).
"Mr Henrys, i am not a hired killer, or a thug. I am an Assassin with thirty years of experience. I do not leave the warmth of my fire for less than one thousand. If this is not to your liking, there are plently of cheaper, less reliable people out there willing to stick a knife in your friends back."
With that, Mr Henrys stood up, his face a pinker shade than it had been moments ago, threw a large pouch onto the table.
"Just get it done" then he turned and left.
Marek half grinned, and downed his drink. Leaning forward to pick up the bag, his back twinged.
"im getting to bloody old for this..."he sighed, counting the money.
