She was never scared. She didn't care if she had to sleep on the hard ground, she only cared about surviving. So when the scrolls began appearing out of her makeshift camp, she didn't care about them either. The first one was simple, instructing her to gather five rabbit's feet and leave them outside her tent. It ensured her that she would be rewarded. She used that first scroll to start her morning fire. The next day, another scroll sat in the same location the first did. She unrolled it to discover that it said the same exact thing. So she did the same exact thing and used it to light her fire.
This continued for two weeks, and on the morning of the 15th day, she walked out of her tent only to see hundreds of scrolls, all with the same request. "Well, this is just annoying," she said to herself. She saw a rabbit hop along in the distance, she pulled her knife off her waist and threw it, at least 25 yards, straight into it's skull. She ran to it and quickly cut off it's feet and put them in a small leather sack. As she headed back to her camp, she watched as the scrolls began to vanish until only a few remained. She grabbed one and pulled it open.
I appreciate your effort. Please collect one last rabbit's foot, and place it in the bag with the others.
She felt her breath catch in her throat and was about to turn to see who was watching her, but she though against it, not wanting to let whoever WAS watching know she cared.
The next morning she awoke to the small bag she left the feet in now filled with a few coppers, next to it another scroll with a new task. This continued for years, and the tasks grew more difficult, the rewards larger. Soon she was able to purchase an apartment in Silvermoon proper, and while her rewards were never enough to make her rich, she lived a comfortable life. The scrolls were her job and she carried out each task faithfully. She gave little thought as to who her benefactor was she only cared that she was paid for each one she fulfilled. She also didn't care much as to what the scrolls asked of her. In turn the scrolls soon turned her into a rather talented assassin.
It wasn't so much that she was heartless, but she felt ever since she had been abandon that people either fight to live or they die. So, if any of her marks cared enough about living, they would be able to stop her. None of them were able to save themselves yet.
One this particular morning she got her usual scroll, and pulled it open to see what the day had in store for her. Some mornings involved the gathering of herbs or cloth, meat or other simple tasks. Other days, were days she had to kill those that needed to die. But today's scroll was different:
Go to the easternmost inn in silvermoon. Wait.
She wasn't sure what to make of it. Usually the scrolls left her knowing exactly what to do. At times they were incredibly specific, telling her to stab her mark in between the ribs under the left arm, or some other detail she didn't really see the point in. But whether she saw the point in the scrolls or not, she always carried them out, so she gathered her daggers and cloak and headed towards the inn.
She walked into the inn stealthed and hidden in the shadows. It always amazed her how people just never seemed to notice her, even as she grabbed their jewelry or coin purses as they walked by. Oblivious. So she hid in the shadows watch people come and go, tell stories of their adventures, and drink themselves silly so early in the morning. It didn't matter what time of day the inns were always full and lively.
So what exactly was she waiting for? Her eyes scanned the crowds looking for anything out of place, or at least noticeable. But nothing called her attention to it. Taurens ran past her snorting their warm breath across her face. Trolls ran around nearly poking people's eyes out with their teeth, and the Orcs sat around challenging the Blood Elves to arm wrestling matches. Just a typical day.
As the hours passed, she began honing in on people, tracking their moves and conversations. An Orc sat at the bar, drinking herself to death. Her long white braid stretched down her back, and she would finish her drink and immediately order the next. She didn't speak to anyone except the bartender, and she only spoke in Orcish. Occasionally she would order some bat bites or other small snack, but she never moved from her chair, never looked at anyone. In a place that was full of life and cheerfulness, she was the odd one out.
Lynnius stayed in her corner watching this Orc, wondering what could happen to a mighty and proud orc to suck all the life out of them. There was no pride in this one, only the drink. The Orc ordered another drink, and Lynnius watched as the bartender turned around to get it for her. She watched him pour the drink and right before he turned around to hand it to her, a small vial appeared under the cuff of his shirt. Poison! She moved quickly, this had to be what she was waiting for. Her eyes glowed green and she ran across the inn, as the orc reached for the mug. Her left hand hit the bar and she propelled herself over, her foot kicking the mug out of the Orc's hand as she landed in front of the bartender. She grabbed both of her daggers, people finally noticing her. The rushed towards her, but she spent her life being one step ahead of others, and as the approached the bar, her daggers had already hit their mark, one landing in either side of his neck.
Some taurens and blood elves lunged for her, but she was back on the other side of the bar, pulling the drunk orc behind her.
"Quickly Orc," Lynnius snarled as the crowd closed in. She ran towards the darkest corner of the bar and faded into the shadows, pulling the orc into their inky darkness with her.
They arrived at back at Lynnius's apartment, the Orc seeming to have sobered up during this whole ordeal.
"You managed to piss someone off," Lynnius said.
"You saved me," the Orc said, looking dazed.
"What's your name Orc?"
"You saved my life. Why?"
"Because you couldn't. What's your name Orc," she asked again. Lynnius had few conversations with people in her life, but with each one she came across as cold and heartless.
"My name is Jarisi, elf."
Lynnius could tell Jarisi's thankfulness was turning into the trademark orcish rage.
"My name is Lynnius. Look, Jarisi, I'm not sure what's going on here, but we should probably get out of the city."
"They will probably be looking for us, won't they?"
"In Silvermoon? They will forget about us by tomorrow. No, we need to figure out why someone wanted to kill you."
"What we should figure out first is why you saved me."
Lynnius looked sideways and sent her a little smile, "Come on orc, we will talk in the forest."
No comments:
Post a Comment