You're welcome, Tank.
*bow*
I don't know if it's rude to answer your own prompt, but I want to.
The timing of this is just around the time Fenris arrives in Kirkwall, which, to me, is about the same time as Hawke finishes her stint with the mercs.
*editFORMATTINGgrrrrrgrumble...*
Prompt: Shadows
Lowtown DistrictKirkwall, 9:31 Dragon I will need to find food and possibly steal some more coin soon, not necessarily in that order.A pair of emerald green eyes peered out from the shadowsof an alley in Lowtown. For all he knew, one alley was
as good as another, but this one appeared to come out near a tavern. The courtyard in front of it looked promising as well. It looked like it opened into the darkened Market Square. Even the most circumspect merchant sometimes left something of value behind. The tavern, which had a sign of a hanged man over its door, might provide easy marks once the drunks who could still walk started leaving. Value was, of course, relative; food and goods were both potentially useful. He couldn’t afford to be picky, and his need for coin was nearly as pressing as his need for food.
It will only be a matter of time before the hunters follow me here. After our last confrontation, I expect they may send more than I can handle alone. Considering how poorly their last trap worked, I would be foolish to assume otherwise. A smirk curled the elf’s lip. The last attempt that his former master’s hirelings had made to trap him had been a disaster – for them. Still, that had been the end of his time in that village, and he’d been forced to leave earlier than he expected.His expression sobered.
As he considered his circumstances, a confrontation outside the tavern drew his eye. A woman had stepped out of the door, followed by at least three men that were visible from his angle. It became clear their attentions weren’t welcome when the woman turned to face them. Her stance was a casual challenge. He couldn’t see her face, but he could see the hilts of two blades poking up past her shoulders, and her hair was bound into a simple twist.
“I said to
pike off,” she said casually. “Apparently you three weren’t there when I broke Big Tom’s nose last week.”
“Oy. Thatsh why there are three of ush, Ferelden ****,” one of her followers slurred slightly. “Tom got his nose ‘ealed, but we want to bring him a little treat…once
we finish with you.”
A dark eyebrow climbed. Fenris couldn’t afford to get involved in every street brawl (or worse) that he witnessed; he’d have been recaptured long before this if he had. He was unwilling to risk his freedom thus. The scene was now taking place too close to his hiding place for him to easily move, however, so he eased his weight and watched cautiously. The woman seemed confident enough, but her soon-to-be attackers were also armed with daggers or or, in one case, a shortsword.
“Oh, so you’re
thoughtful drunken lechers. How original. That
will present a challenge. I hope you three didn’t have too much to drink, because you’re going to have to
keep up.”
At the last words, the woman whipped something from her belt and dashed it on the ground. There was a faint tinkle of breaking glass, and a small plume of smoke rose into the flickering shadows cast by the torchlight.
The drunks’ voices all rose in cries of confusion. One of them shouted at the others to spread out, and they did. Each one took one of the exits from the courtyard. One of them stumbled closer to Fenris’s hiding place, and he quietly tensed, hand on the hilt of his blade.
“She can’t hide forever, boys – “the nearby man started to shout. He was cut off abruptly when the shadow he stood in suddenly reached around his neck. There was a gurgle and a sudden, wet crunch, and the man feel to the ground with his head at an impossible angle. The ‘shadow’ sneered – it was the woman who had vanished just a moment before.
Fenris got a good, close look at the woman, then, before she turned to face the other two. He made out dark eyes, rusty red hair that probably would have been brighter in better light, and sweeping lines of ink on her face. When she turned to face her attackers, he saw her ease a throwing knife from a bandolier of three across her back. She held it there, ready to throw it. He could hear the dripping sarcasm in her voice as she challenged her remaining attackers.
“I could, actually, but I won’t have to.”
With that, her hand whipped out and sideways. He saw the small throwing dagger flash orange in the torchlight, and heard the sound of another body dropping and more moans of pain. The third attacker turned and fled with a high-pitched shriek of fear.
The woman eased her stance after glancing around cautiously. Her eyes lingered on his hiding place, and for a moment, he thought she had seen him. She shook her head, though, and started to walk away. As she left, he heard her disdainful mutter drift back over her shoulder.
“
Idiots…” Fenris nodded, impressed, and slipped from his patch of shadows toward the mens’ bodies. He wasn’t about to miss this opportunity.
Indeed.
Modifié par UrsulaCousland, 04 janvier 2012 - 09:36 .
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