1st of Glade, 4622
“And just to confirm…” Arkash started as his claws lowered the cloth that wrapped his mouth. “…You’re sure about this?” It was a simple question, but a heavy one. “There’s no going back if you are; you’ll never see these people again.”
Izzy was quiet while she stared on over the dune, peering through a worn spyglass from her personal effects. Ahead of them was a complex of tents and shabby worn-down buildings. Arkash’s clear vision rested upon her in the dark of the desert night while she maintained her focus on the open fire that sat situated in the middle of the complex. Regret seemed to claim her expression, brows pinched together above her mournful eye. “…Yes,” she said in reply, “I’m sure.”
A deep exhale flared his nostrils at the affirmative, and he gently pushed to his feet against the cool desert sand as he uttered a brief “alright then.” The half-elf remained in the sand, but looked up at him with her one eye as he straightened up and brushed himself off. “Feel free to watch, just don't get too close.” A roll of his claws saw him clench a fist that shook with tension before he rolled his shoulders and shook off his arms. “I’ll be back in a second,” he assured as he began to descend the slope of the dune and lifted an arm to wave her off.
Poised low, he began to approach the complex from the darkness that surrounded them, dark scales and rags did well to break up his shape in the rolling wastes, as he had yet to be spotted.
Without disturbance, he arrived at the foot of one of the tarp tents that circled the complex and lifted the covering he’d fashioned for his mouth as he peered at those that gathered around the open flame. Four men sat on makeshift benches around the flame, all with firearms in their grasp or on their person. They were engaged in jovial conversation, speaking some drunken gibberish that Arkash didn't care to sort through. Once he’d assessed them on their reach and muscle mass, Arkash was fairly certain he could best them if it came to a battle of brawn, but he had nothing to deflect the gunfire.
Arkash had once used the blood-hardening features of his Blood Magic to stop bullets and shield himself from harm, but that was no longer an option.
The curious positioning of the gathered men left Arkash with a precarious advance; each of them was positioned to watch the back of the man opposite them; attacking even one man would alert the others without fail, and so stealth was only a makeshift solution.
A furrow of his scalie brow saw him exhale through his nose before he glanced to the high wall of the Complex’s main structure, where he spied a couple of watchmen with rifles in hand. One for each corner, so it seemed. Arkash had yet to test the full extent of his new regenerative powers, but he wasn’t certain he’d easily recover from multiple gunshots or even a single gunshot to a lethal area. Squinting, he kept low to the sand as he circled around the footer of the tent, then lifted the edge of the shelter tarp to open his way, and dipped his head to peer inside.
There, it was evident that the structure of the tarp wasn’t a temporary fortification or some makeshift shelter. There was some sort of cut stone flooring to it, cemented and held together with some sort of sand-based paste. In the middle of the room was a rug of ornate design, a few tables and chairs to line the edges of the tarp, and no shortage of sand and dust to scatter every conceivable surface. One thing was certain about Izzy’s gang, and that was their lack of struggle for resources in the desert. Where they obtained all that wealth, he could only imagine.
With obvious caution to his motions, Arkash slid under the rim of the tarp and dragged the rest of his body through. The other side of the tarp withheld a table from his limited perspective, which he quietly arrived under as he emerged from the cool desert night. From his position, he took a more detailed look around the room in search of anything that could work to his advantage or disadvantage. The open entrance of the tent faced the campfire with the rowdy lot that sat around it, and a glance to the right revealed two live bodies in their bedrolls. Were all the tents that surrounded the complex inhabited? Likely so... In which case, Arkash had his work cut out for him.
There had been times were Arkash needed to assassinate two people at the same time, but such was difficult with only a single blade. If one failed, they would wake and alert the other. The alarm would then alert others in the area to come to their aid. A deep exhale flared his nostrils before he carefully crawled across the stone flooring with his head low and his attire suspended from the ground to reduce the drag. Once he was upon them, he drew his jagged black sword and inspected the blade. While he was certain he could sever the head of one in a single strike, he also knew that the force it would take would wake the other at the cry of blade on stone.
Arkash pinched his temples with one claw while he thought, then quietly lifted his blade over the head of the first human, who stared up at the ceiling of their tent with their eyes closed. Both hands wrapped the handle while he readied himself; he was going to need both hands for the level of control he needed. A deep breath filled his lungs, then released just as deeply while he tried to steady his body.
Suddenly, the human’s eyes opened.
They were wide with confusion, recognition, then fear. With only a second to react, Arkash took the man’s mouth and pressed it shut, changed the angle of his sword as the man began to writhe and flail in the confines of his bedroll, then thrust directly through the skull and severed the brain at the stem after passing through layers of bone, muscle, and sinew. The man fell still, but his partner roused in the commotion and rolled over to find the scene of the murder.
At once, he drew a deep breath, and Arkash simultaneously drew his sword from the cadaver and shift his legs to swing, and split the skin, tendon, and muscle of his throat the moment he began to scream.
Arkash’s eyes widened as he pressed his sword to the gurgling man’s mouth, while they fought ferociously against the fabric that trapped them, aimed his sword, and thrust it through the underside of his head to sever the brain from the spine. Again, he fell still, but not without consequence.
The jovial chatter from the center of the camp had quieted to a few indistinct murmurs and whisperings. Arkash held the bleeding human’s head down while he ripped the blade from the grip of bone, then turned to face the doorway, from which the light of the fire formed the silhouette of an approaching figure.
His nose curled as venom began to seep through the corners of his lips. Then, without a sound, he got up and quietly ran the length of the tent as the shadow began to grow to completely fill the doorway. He readied his sword and a free hand to steady himself while he watched the shadow approach, then adjusted his grip to hold the blade with two hands as the advance stopped. His heart raced adrenaline through his veins as he psyched himself up to fight, all while his mind rushed a stream of ideas and tactics to the forefront of his mind. Silent, he lifted his blade to pose himself for driving force, then took a few quiet steps back before he shut his crimson eyes, closed his mouth, and all but vanished into the dark.
The human peered around the corner of the tent, eyes still adjusting to the darkness that bathed the far end of the shelter. “Oy,” he called into the dark. “Kaylum, Franz, you two alright?”
Silence came the stern reply.
That same silence stretched on while Arkash held his position and remained utterly still. The human began to squint into the dark as his night vision adjusted, only to look back to the fire when he was called.
“What’s the ‘old up?!” Called a gruff male voice from the fire. Arkash briefly opened his eye to catch the man, then closed it again while he stared on at the fire with a squint.
“Nuffin!” the younger man returned. “I just reckon they’s sleeping, that’s all.”
“Well, check on ‘em then,” the same voice ordered from across the way. A moment of hesitance came, followed by a louder assertion. “Check ‘em ya dunce!”
“Fine! Fine….” The younger man returned, then paused as he turned back into the tent.
Arkash held in confusion as the boy seemed to stand there in front of him, then hazarded his eyes to open with a furrow to his brow. There, he saw the frightened visage of the human and held eye contact while the boy stared wide-eyed in shock and horror. Arkash had been seen.
“And just to confirm…” Arkash started as his claws lowered the cloth that wrapped his mouth. “…You’re sure about this?” It was a simple question, but a heavy one. “There’s no going back if you are; you’ll never see these people again.”
Izzy was quiet while she stared on over the dune, peering through a worn spyglass from her personal effects. Ahead of them was a complex of tents and shabby worn-down buildings. Arkash’s clear vision rested upon her in the dark of the desert night while she maintained her focus on the open fire that sat situated in the middle of the complex. Regret seemed to claim her expression, brows pinched together above her mournful eye. “…Yes,” she said in reply, “I’m sure.”
A deep exhale flared his nostrils at the affirmative, and he gently pushed to his feet against the cool desert sand as he uttered a brief “alright then.” The half-elf remained in the sand, but looked up at him with her one eye as he straightened up and brushed himself off. “Feel free to watch, just don't get too close.” A roll of his claws saw him clench a fist that shook with tension before he rolled his shoulders and shook off his arms. “I’ll be back in a second,” he assured as he began to descend the slope of the dune and lifted an arm to wave her off.
Poised low, he began to approach the complex from the darkness that surrounded them, dark scales and rags did well to break up his shape in the rolling wastes, as he had yet to be spotted.
Without disturbance, he arrived at the foot of one of the tarp tents that circled the complex and lifted the covering he’d fashioned for his mouth as he peered at those that gathered around the open flame. Four men sat on makeshift benches around the flame, all with firearms in their grasp or on their person. They were engaged in jovial conversation, speaking some drunken gibberish that Arkash didn't care to sort through. Once he’d assessed them on their reach and muscle mass, Arkash was fairly certain he could best them if it came to a battle of brawn, but he had nothing to deflect the gunfire.
Arkash had once used the blood-hardening features of his Blood Magic to stop bullets and shield himself from harm, but that was no longer an option.
The curious positioning of the gathered men left Arkash with a precarious advance; each of them was positioned to watch the back of the man opposite them; attacking even one man would alert the others without fail, and so stealth was only a makeshift solution.
A furrow of his scalie brow saw him exhale through his nose before he glanced to the high wall of the Complex’s main structure, where he spied a couple of watchmen with rifles in hand. One for each corner, so it seemed. Arkash had yet to test the full extent of his new regenerative powers, but he wasn’t certain he’d easily recover from multiple gunshots or even a single gunshot to a lethal area. Squinting, he kept low to the sand as he circled around the footer of the tent, then lifted the edge of the shelter tarp to open his way, and dipped his head to peer inside.
There, it was evident that the structure of the tarp wasn’t a temporary fortification or some makeshift shelter. There was some sort of cut stone flooring to it, cemented and held together with some sort of sand-based paste. In the middle of the room was a rug of ornate design, a few tables and chairs to line the edges of the tarp, and no shortage of sand and dust to scatter every conceivable surface. One thing was certain about Izzy’s gang, and that was their lack of struggle for resources in the desert. Where they obtained all that wealth, he could only imagine.
With obvious caution to his motions, Arkash slid under the rim of the tarp and dragged the rest of his body through. The other side of the tarp withheld a table from his limited perspective, which he quietly arrived under as he emerged from the cool desert night. From his position, he took a more detailed look around the room in search of anything that could work to his advantage or disadvantage. The open entrance of the tent faced the campfire with the rowdy lot that sat around it, and a glance to the right revealed two live bodies in their bedrolls. Were all the tents that surrounded the complex inhabited? Likely so... In which case, Arkash had his work cut out for him.
There had been times were Arkash needed to assassinate two people at the same time, but such was difficult with only a single blade. If one failed, they would wake and alert the other. The alarm would then alert others in the area to come to their aid. A deep exhale flared his nostrils before he carefully crawled across the stone flooring with his head low and his attire suspended from the ground to reduce the drag. Once he was upon them, he drew his jagged black sword and inspected the blade. While he was certain he could sever the head of one in a single strike, he also knew that the force it would take would wake the other at the cry of blade on stone.
Arkash pinched his temples with one claw while he thought, then quietly lifted his blade over the head of the first human, who stared up at the ceiling of their tent with their eyes closed. Both hands wrapped the handle while he readied himself; he was going to need both hands for the level of control he needed. A deep breath filled his lungs, then released just as deeply while he tried to steady his body.
Suddenly, the human’s eyes opened.
They were wide with confusion, recognition, then fear. With only a second to react, Arkash took the man’s mouth and pressed it shut, changed the angle of his sword as the man began to writhe and flail in the confines of his bedroll, then thrust directly through the skull and severed the brain at the stem after passing through layers of bone, muscle, and sinew. The man fell still, but his partner roused in the commotion and rolled over to find the scene of the murder.
At once, he drew a deep breath, and Arkash simultaneously drew his sword from the cadaver and shift his legs to swing, and split the skin, tendon, and muscle of his throat the moment he began to scream.
Arkash’s eyes widened as he pressed his sword to the gurgling man’s mouth, while they fought ferociously against the fabric that trapped them, aimed his sword, and thrust it through the underside of his head to sever the brain from the spine. Again, he fell still, but not without consequence.
The jovial chatter from the center of the camp had quieted to a few indistinct murmurs and whisperings. Arkash held the bleeding human’s head down while he ripped the blade from the grip of bone, then turned to face the doorway, from which the light of the fire formed the silhouette of an approaching figure.
His nose curled as venom began to seep through the corners of his lips. Then, without a sound, he got up and quietly ran the length of the tent as the shadow began to grow to completely fill the doorway. He readied his sword and a free hand to steady himself while he watched the shadow approach, then adjusted his grip to hold the blade with two hands as the advance stopped. His heart raced adrenaline through his veins as he psyched himself up to fight, all while his mind rushed a stream of ideas and tactics to the forefront of his mind. Silent, he lifted his blade to pose himself for driving force, then took a few quiet steps back before he shut his crimson eyes, closed his mouth, and all but vanished into the dark.
The human peered around the corner of the tent, eyes still adjusting to the darkness that bathed the far end of the shelter. “Oy,” he called into the dark. “Kaylum, Franz, you two alright?”
Silence came the stern reply.
That same silence stretched on while Arkash held his position and remained utterly still. The human began to squint into the dark as his night vision adjusted, only to look back to the fire when he was called.
“What’s the ‘old up?!” Called a gruff male voice from the fire. Arkash briefly opened his eye to catch the man, then closed it again while he stared on at the fire with a squint.
“Nuffin!” the younger man returned. “I just reckon they’s sleeping, that’s all.”
“Well, check on ‘em then,” the same voice ordered from across the way. A moment of hesitance came, followed by a louder assertion. “Check ‘em ya dunce!”
“Fine! Fine….” The younger man returned, then paused as he turned back into the tent.
Arkash held in confusion as the boy seemed to stand there in front of him, then hazarded his eyes to open with a furrow to his brow. There, he saw the frightened visage of the human and held eye contact while the boy stared wide-eyed in shock and horror. Arkash had been seen.
Image source.
