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 Posted: Sat Oct 18, 2008 9:44 am
(5 cookie points if you recognize where that quote is from! ^_^)
Micarreth felt the roughness of the stone wall under his shoulders as he struck against it. It was a odd time for him to be noticing the thinness of his shirt. The hand around his neck was something he ought to be paying more attention to...no...not that hand.The other one that currently held a pointed blade directed towards him. Yeah, that was the one he was supposed to be thinking about more.
As Micarreth lifted one of his long legs and kicked out his heel into the dagger wielding elbow, he started to question the logic behind his current training choice. Starting a fight with some random drow in a back ally...hmmm... it -had- seemed to have merit at the time. Who'd notice or even care if someone was killed in the narrow allyway? If the drow was alone he wouldn't have to worry about others jumping in. Odds were, if he was alone he had to have some sort of skills to protect himself. It would have been a good challenge. No set up training room could possibly compare to the real eperience of fighting for your life. There were no healing potions here, other then the one he carried. The subject wasn't going to stop attacking him because he landed a disabling blow.
The drow dropped the dagger, but the hand was still about his neck, and the lack of air was starting to get to him in the form of spots in his sight. Micarreth snapped his leg up again, his toe barely clipping the other drow's chin as it jerk's it's head back to avoid the obvious strike. Though with it's head back it missed when Micarreth crooked his knee and hooked it around the arm outstretched to pin him to the wall. It was both a shame and a blessing he had not known of this move before he met Burryna. He could have disarmed her and gotten free...but at the cost of his current alliance....and...that other thing...
There was a moment of satisfaction when the hand about his throat was forced to release him. That moment being the fact he could inhale another breath. There was also the unpleasent sensation of burning alongside each side of his neck from the drows fingernails. Long damn pointed things that went amazingly well with the bust which was very tightly wrapped up in a leather corset. Long enough to poke through the protective wrapping of his scarf about his neck and lower face.
Micarreth honestly had not known his target had been a female until he provoked her by flicking a dagger at her from a windowsill above the ally. When she looked up he gained a glorious view of breasts that he simply would have loved to do other things to other then throw pointed objects at. Sadly, for half the fight, he'd been distracted by the bounce and swing and sway of those soft orbs. And he noticed other things, such as the faint curve of her rump. Micarreth figured this fight may have been both a good and bad thing though. While he was distracted...it gave him a chance to overcome his youthful...attraction...when he needed to focus on other things.
Focus was something he really needed to work on...really... As his unwilling opponent staggered away from him Micarreth closed in on her. Best to keep their distance to a minimum. Her aim was immpecable, as he had pulled a dart from his thigh and torso already. He'd popped his anti-toxin immediatly, rather then waiting to see if the darts had been poisoned...of course they were! Who bothered to use unpoisoned darts in the underdark? Micarreth lashed out at the female with his foot again, causeing her to dodge blindly backwards. If he kept her off balance...all he had to do was get in a good shot to the chin and he could end this. Again and again he kicked, getting the female used to watching his feet for his attacks, so that when he did finally jab out with his fist, her eyes were down and she was unprepared for the impact.
It hurt, and Micarreth ended up cradling his fist as the female crumpled to the wet stone allyway. He'd have to invest in some gloves or something...anything to protect his fingers...and he'd not be doing this again too soon. He knew the fight had not been a silent thing...the curses and vows of just what sort of pain she was going to inflict on him had echoed a bit in the ally. As far as Micarreth was aware, no one would pay any attention to the fight unless it involved someone they knew. Nurseing his throbbing hand, Micarreth considered looting the females body before heading off to a tavern to get himself a drink. A wicked smile lifted the corners of his lips. If no one intervened..well...he supposed there was no problem in having a bit of fun neh? Micarreth reached up and hooked two of his fingers into his scarf, pulling it down from his face as he considered the female for a bit.
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Posted: Fri Oct 24, 2008 6:14 am
As Micarreth stood over the defeated Drow, teh sound of slow clapping rung out through teh alleyway. The sound came from a Drow who was stepping out from a shadowy alcove where he'd silently watched the short struggle. Crossing his arms, the Drow known as Imrak casually approached the young assassin. Imrak was tall, well toned and scarred, there was hardly an area of exposed flesh that wasn't sporting a scar of some kind. "That was a mighty fine display o' fightin' lad. Tell me, be yer senile old granpa or a half blind gnoll that taught ye ta fight like that?"
Smirking at Mica the warrior continued past to stand over the woman, idly prodding her with the two of his boot. "Tsk... That be disappointing..." Imrak ran a hand through his hair pushing an errant lock of hair behind an ear, before moving the hand up to stroke his left ear, which was missing it's tip, while he pondered the situation. The whole reason for him being here was to meet with a contact, the woman now lying unconscious in teh gutter. She was supposed to be a new recruit and had come highly recommended, but Imrak was planning on taking her into his mercenary troop as a scout. What kind of scout could let herself get jumped by a boy like this?
Turning his cool steel gaze back to the young man Imrak studied him for a moment, wondering what had motivated the attack. "Tell me lad, be ye a half blind dolt or for some reason did ye miss on purpose with that first strike o' yers?" From what Imrak had seen this guy could have killed the woman with that first dagger throw, but went wide, but he wasn't sure if it was a deliberate warning shot or just a clumsy throw.
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Posted: Tue Oct 28, 2008 5:32 pm
Micarreths dark museings were interrupted by the sound of the clapping. He half pivioted on the ball of one foot, the other remaining firm and flat beneath him as he watched the other drow step out from the shadows. A hundred thoughts buzzes through his mind, all contesting to be the one he latched onto and gave more consideration to. Who was this drow? Bystander? Partner? Guard? Aquaintence? Was it just happenstance that he was here? Was he supposed to be here? Was he waiting for this female? Was he waiting for someone else? Was he following him? had his brother gotten wise to his little trips outside of the House?
There were just so many different thoughts and questions, but none of them seemed to leap out at him more then the others. Micarreth assumed, after a moment of uncertainty, that perhaps he was obtaining a grip on his rash and somewhat irrational responses. He could have drawn a weapon immediatly, or in all honesty he should have just taken off. His 'training' had left him feeling spent. One opponent seemed to be all he could manage at a time right now. His feet were still poised for whatever action he determind to pursue even as the other drow saw fit to insult him.
In comparison, Micarreth felt like a dagger when compared to a broadsword. The other drow had the muscular form of a man who had been trained for quite some time with dealing death. His body was marked all over, from what Micarreth could see. Not that he was envious of that in the least. Micarreth vainly prided his smooth skin and his good looks. Still...it was hard not to glance at the well toned frame of the other drow and compare it to his own thin long limbed form
Consciously he pinched his fingers over the lip of his scarf and dragged it back up over his lower face. His features, according to his Weapons master, were completely unscooled and were as easy to read as a any childs. So, to better hide the grimance at the obviously insult to his skills, Micarreth opted to hide his lower face at least. Besides, if he hadn't gotten too good of a look at him yet he really thought it would be wisest to avoid giving him any more chances to imprint his looks to memory.
A part of Micarreth wanted to come back with a comment of some sort, but he bit his tongue to keep it silent. Provokeing the other drow with comments on how he looked like he wasn't one to talk. After all...with all those scars it looked more like he took blows more often then not. Ugh! Just look at those scars!
It was the dissappointing comment that helped keep his tongue. What was so dissappointing? that he'd bettered a female? He doubted that was the cause of the comment. The other male had to know the female in some way... and that really could mean trouble for him. Ugh! It would just be his luck that he'd just knocked unconscious his ward or something! Fighting the urge to pat his palm to his temple, Micarreth shuffled his position back a step from the other male. The steely gaze that lifted and steeled upon him caused a series of flip flopping sensations in his gut.
Still, the insulting jabs baited Micarreth something terrible. His cheeks flushed with anger and he unconsciously wrinkled his nose. His lips pulled sidewards in a silent scowl that was thankfully hidden beneath his scarf. "I missed on purpose." He did finally find his voice. His response was tight at first, though it was followed with a faintly self satisfied tone. "If I had meant to she'd have been dead with the first throw, but then she wouldn't have been of any use to me that way." His fingers itched slightly, just along the tips to touch at one of his hidden daggers. He'd only thrown the one, so he knew how many he had left. Still he wanted to assure himself with touching them off and assuring himself they were still present. His weapons Master had admonished him so many times in the past weeks for such a foolish impulse.
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Posted: Thu Nov 06, 2008 3:11 pm
Imrak was a little disappointed his barbs failed to get a response from teh younger Drow, if for no other reason than that if he provoked the other Drow into attacking him, it gave him a reasonable reason to be violent. Still the night was young. Looking at Micarreths eyes it was obvious he was closely watching Imrak, he could almost feel the others eyes playing over his body. Imrak might have thought the young man had amorous feelings for the old warrior if not for the faint look of disgust evident in his gaze. Imrak was use to such looks by now, not everyone thought the scars that marked his body were particularly appealing, not that he cared.
Finally though one of Imraks verbal stings got a response. "Ah, so yer not mute. I was startin' ta wonder if ye be havin' yer tongue cut out. Or were ye simple awed inta silence by der presence of a real warrior?" For a heartbeat Imraks eyes glanced away from the other Drows, taking in his hands before locking his cold gaze on Mica's again, a slight smirk playing across his lips. "If ye be thinkin' of goin' fer another of yer blades, ya should know that I could be on ye and snap yer twig of a neck, afore ye even get yer blade clear. Course, many a mans called me a lier, so feel free to but may claim ta der test." The coldness of his eyes had faded a little, a hint of mirth now in them at the potential excuse for violence.
"So tell may boy, why be ye picking fights wi' this lass? What exactly be ye planning ta use 'er for? Surely yer not so cheap as ta go through this much trouble rather than part with coin at der brothel?"
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Posted: Thu Nov 06, 2008 5:41 pm
Consider the situation. Then decide on a wise course of action. This is what he remembered best from his first teacher. Mind you, at the time when Micarreth had first put that advice to use he had ended up stabbing a fellow student in order to draw the attacking dire dats off towards easier wounded prey...and that particular scenario would not work well here. The female may have fit the 'wounded student' part, but the male drow before him was hardly a dire rat.
Micarreth was trying to focus his mind on this particular situation, and while he was successful in taking into consideration a number of elements. Such as the weariness of his body as a factor verses the obviously well trained opponent he was just a few steps away from. He was still easily riled by the rather well sharpened tongue.
"Well, when I come across a real warrior rather then a gutter sweep I'll be certain to take note." Micarreth hissed his response softly, unable to stop himself from poking back after all the verbal jabs he had recieved thus far. Micarreth honestly did not have a great deal of self control.
Imrak's cocky comment about his desire to reach for one of his weapons stung as sharply as a gash across the cheek. Just as the weapons master had warned, he had a dangerouse tell that skilled opponents would easily pick up on. not to mention the fact that if he did touch at each of his concealed weapons it allowed the other to know just how many and where his weapons were.
Of course, this allowed Micarreth to gauge that the other drow was probably just as well tested in fighting as the scars hinted al. Which instilled just a bit more of his will into caution. With some effort Micarreth placed both of his hands upon his hips, his fingers digging into his waist in an effort to calm his simmering insulted anger. Inwardly he toldhimself to keep his tongue still. Don't respond. Don't reply... But it was incerdibly hard to keep himself from at least trying to pull free one of his weapons. Perhaps he should invest in some magical things later on? Maybe Mas wouldn't be such a useless faery if he did become an enchanter.
It was the last bit about the brothel that caused Micarreths back to stiffen a bit more. "Feh! As if I would want to sully myself with some filthy back ally b***h. Since you seem so keen on her though you can have her now. My use for her is finished." Micarreth tilted his nose upwards just a notch for a hint of arrogance to be added to his words. Obviously this drow had the wrong idea if he thought Micarreth still had need or want of her... though...
Had he not interrupted odds were Micarreth certainly would have sullied himself a little bit with her. After all, how could he possibly pass up on a unconscious and helpless female? It was fr too good a opportunity! A shame it had been lost though, Micarreth certainly would not try anything now...damn interloper! "I'll just leave her to you now then..." And make a cautious exit...
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Posted: Fri Nov 07, 2008 2:41 pm
Imrak snorted and tweaked an eyebrow at Mica's gutter sweep comment. "Ah, so ye have a bit o' fire in ye after all. I be startin' ta think ye had used up what little courage ye had in ambushin' a woman in a dark alley. Gutter sweep eh? Maybe so, but if'n I turned ye on yer head, ye might be takin' for may broom, what with yer scraggly head and stalk of a body. Course even a broom handle would be hain' a bit more meat on it then ye do."
Behind the insults though Imrak's mind was plodding along trying to piece together this little jigsaw, but certain he was missing a few pieces. Was the boy simple a rapist, and now eager to flee after Imrak interrupted? Maybe a thief or assassin? Certainly the boy had the look to be either of those, yet if that was the case why hadn't he killed with the first dagger? He had mentioned something about her only being useful to him alive, that seemed to lead back to the rape scenario. However something about how vehemently the young man had denied that made Imrak doubt that was the reason for the attack. And if rape was the plan, why not get teh jump on her to start with, why give her the chance to fight back?
Imraks eyes tightened a little as he pursed his lips in thought, scrutinising teh other Drow. "I be havin' no interest in this wench, at least not that kind o' interest. Right now I be more interested in you, little pup. Ya see I be duty bound to investigate why a lad like ye would waylay a young lass in a dark alley fer no good reason. Could be that ye be a a follower o' that wretch Vhaerun." After speaking the name of that god, Imrak turned and spat as if the word had left a foul taste in his mouth. "If'n that be der case, it'd be may duty ta bring the vile heretic to justice, no?"
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Posted: Fri Nov 07, 2008 5:06 pm
A bit of fire? If that was all that the stranger drow was seeing then Micarreth counted himself a step closer to success in controlling, or at least concealing his temper. It was a flaw that he simply did not believe he could overcome in the safety of a training room. Still, he felt the heated flush in his cheeks and the urge to retort was nearly unbearable.
"Bite your tongue nempori fa'la zatoast. No broom would have half the bite that I would. I'd cut the tendons in your damn ankles if you so much as tried!" Okay, so...maybe he did not have nearly as much progress made as he had thought at first. His chest pratically surged with the desire to embolden himself and square off against the stranger.
But he was an assassin. Not a warrior. He'd get knocked flat on his back double quick if he tried to contend toe to toe with the man. Of that he had absolutly no doubt. No, what he needed to do was keep a cautious distance and clamp down on his tongue before he said something completely foolish. Reguardless, Micarreth narrowed his eyes as the other would reveal his particular interest in himself. So...what? He was a damn guard? It would figure! Out of all the faery damned guards in the city he actually had to run across one that actually did the job!
"My reasons are my own and I have no obligation to explain myself to a xsa faery." Micarreth spat in response to the other drow while his left hand shiftd slightly to his hip where his scarf wound about his waist. He could feel the dagger folded within the crimson cloth and itched to draw it out so he at least had something of a weapon in his grasp. His eyes had flared open a little wider at the insinuation that had been made of his alligience, and to the Masked god of all people! Well...considering the fact he himself was currently masked and skulking in the ally he supposed it could be assumed. But still! "Watch where you fling accusations and assumptions old man. I'm no damned follower of that pathetic god and if you insinuate it again I'll not hesitate to vent your lungs from another angle."
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Posted: Fri Nov 07, 2008 5:39 pm
Until now Imrak had been merely having fun with Mica, teasing the younger drow with his barbed words, but the seasoned veteran took little head of the others insults. That is until Mica said the one thing no one should ever say to Imrak. "OLD?!! Who ye be callin' OLD, ye miserable little whelp?!" Imraks voice boomed with the commanding shout used to being heard over the din of battle, in the narrow alley it actually echoed back after several moments.
"I should tear that insolent tongue outta yer mouth an' make ye watch as I eat it! Ye be little more than a babe, who hasn't even ben weened from his momma and ye call may OLD! Rothe s**t on duty! I be willing ta kill ye slowly just ta hear ye cry fer yer whore of a mother and beg may ta end yer wretched life.!" With his jaw tightly clenched and his eyes wide in rage, Imrak reached back and clasped the hilt of his sword. "Ye'll be soon cursin' the day ye crossed Judicator Imrak boy!"
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Posted: Fri Nov 07, 2008 6:22 pm
The loudness of the bellow did not make Micarreth pause or blink. He'd gotten into shouting matchs often enough with his elder brother that raised voices, no matter how powerful, did not cause him to balk. Though he would have preffered it is the been quieter. Micarreth had no desire to announce what was going on down this ally way if it were that this other drow was a guard. Who knew what sort of aid would come tramping down the back ally at a familar voice after all!
There was sfaction watching the other drow react to his words. It surprised him, only a little, that it was not his intended insults, but the unintended one that had set the other drow off. Micarreths amber eyes sparked with life at the violent words and near promises of the other. If there was one thing Micarreth could appreciate, it was a good blood lust. His fingers flipped the fabric of his scarf about his waist, and the slim dagger concealed within fell into his eager palm. His fingers closed tightly about the hilt, and immediatly went cold.
He had assumed that Imrak was a guard. Just some poor attempt at keeping the streets clear of too many ne're do wells. His body seized up, his back stiff and the light in his once eager gaze fading with a moment of uncertainty. Maybe he was lieing? A boastful declaration to make him hesitate? Micarreth was not fool enough to try his skills against a Judicator. The only way he'd ever want to face off against one was if their back was to him and they had no knowledge of his presence. And even then he'd hesitate to strike out of worry that it wouldn't kill whomever it was instantly.
Micarreth shifted his body stiffly back a step. He could run, which he felt was most likely a very very good option right now. But...with how close the two of them nearly were he wouldn't think he'd get far enough fast enough to avoid a sword swing. Perhaps....
The window ledge that Micarreth had been hiding upon was only a few feet up, and there were plenty of other nitch's and hand holds that his slender fingers could grasp at. Maybe a warrior of Imrak's sort lacked the skills to rapidly ascend a wall the way a 'broom thin' velguk like himself could do...
Running away certainly seemed like a excellent option too. Micarreth did not want -this- sort of a training exersize.
"I'll curse only if you manage to catch me!" Micarreth replied as he bent one knee down and twisted on the ball of his prepared foot. For a moment it would look as if he would turn tail and run. But no, as he twisted just a quarter turn towards the wall nearest to him, Mica thrust up with his bent leg and leapt his long limbed frame directly upwards. With one hand he reached up, his fingernails grasping blindly at the gaps between the stones in the wall, while with the other hand he slammed his dagger forwards, so that the tip caught in one of the gaps and gave him a moment to secure his grip. All he had to do was climb and hope the old drow wasn't quicker then he on the stairs....
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Posted: Fri Nov 07, 2008 6:56 pm
Imrak watched as Mica turned and tried to climb the wall, tilting his head he spat again, his left hand already moving towards the throwing daggers in the strap across his chest. With Mica dangling form the wall like that and at this range it would be an easy shot for Imraks practiced hand. This was too easy for Imraks liking, if the boy was going to die a coward he could have at least have tried to make a proper run of it and giving Imrak the pleasure of the hunt. At that thought Imrak withdrew his hand from the daggers, a ever so slight smile on his lips.
True he could kill the wretched brat here and now, but Imrak would much rather have the thrill of the chase than the all too brief joy from an easy kill. Though his demeanour changed quiet a bit and he seemed more relaxed, the rage boiling inside was still evident by the throbbing vein by his temple and the intensity of his glare.
Then after waiting what he felt was a reasonable enough time to allow a head start, Imrak rushed at the wall and threw himself at it, climbing the side at surprising pace. True he lacked Mica's agility and was encumbered by his heavier frame, but there was one thing that set Imrak apart from a common warrior, that was the variety of 'Tricks' he'd picked up as a Judicator. Amongst the many perks of serving a spider god was the ability to scramble up a wall almost as easily as a spider would.
"Ye can run little pup, but ye can't hide. And when I have ye, I be plannin' on enjoyin' every minute o' it!"
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Posted: Fri Nov 07, 2008 7:27 pm
Micarreth was quite nimble, but he was restricted to a mundane sort of progress. He had no tricks to help him climb the wall more quickly then he was naturally capable of. Claws...he would have to invest in some sort of claws that he could wear on his hands. Such an item would definatly make a climb like this easier. Of course...those spells that Tal had mentioned probably would have had something for climbing or even vanishing in them for him. He really should have gotten back to the bloody mage and insisted on starting the magical lessons he had spoken of.
Micarreth had not thought about the possibility of being struck by a thrown dagger from Imrak. He had been banking more on the fact the older warrior would not be light or dexterious enough to follow him directly up the wall. His sight was set on the window that he had first been hiding in, with his mind already mapping out the supposed escape route he'd take. It did strike him as odd that silence followed his ascention. He had expected a yell or a curse. A insult even, followed by the sound of running feet as he supposed the warrior would take off for the front of the building.
Micarreth was not expecting the clashing sound of a body and metal on stone. He fought, and failed, to keep his sight set on the window. As he peered over his shoulder, and marked the ease and speed of Imrak following him up the wall, Micarreth nearly lost his grip in a fright. That...was not supposed to happen. The forbodeing promise of the other ignighted a sudden rush of adreniline into him, and Micarreth turned his gaze back to the window. he reached it, a touch more quickly then he had expected, and pulled himself through. Flopping to the floor, Micarreth wasted no time righting himself. he twisted about on his back, and useing his heels kick slammed the frame of the window to cause the wooden shutter to flop over the opening. It was only then that Micarreth twisted to his feet, his hands fumbling to flop the cross bar over the window to provide a, in his mind, rather weak barrior against the climbing warrior.
It would not hold. Abyss! Micarreth doubted that it would even withstand a single punch from Imrak before breaking open. He should, for all sakes and purposes, run. Take off through the door and down the hall. Run his long limbed legs as quickly as he could back to the street and hope he was able to make it back to his House before Imrak closed in on him.
But he doubted that his strength would last him long enough to get that far. What he needed was to get to a place and a position where he could ambush the other. The first choice was the most obvious. Wait inside this room for Imrak to enter through the window. Micarreth would guess the other would be prepared for a ambush right here, so he did not delay any longer then it took to regain his feet and turn about.
Micarreth ran, bolting across the room, he flung the opposite door open and slammed it shut behind him. The obvious path would be for him to run downstairs, so rather Micarreth opted to ascend the stairs. his long legs stretched to take the stairs three at a time. His amber eyes fixed towards the landingup above.The roof. he'd get tot he roof and see if the other could follow him that way. There were plenty of narrow ledges and jumps that he could hope would slow or stop the other warrior. Suerly he wasn't that nimble...right?
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Posted: Sat Nov 08, 2008 12:02 pm
By teh time Mica had reached the window, Imrak had already closed some of the distance between them, in fact he nearly had his fingers taken off when Mica suddenly slammed the shutters closed. Mumbling a brief curse Imrak fumbled to get a better perch on the wall. While the spell he used allowed him to climb easily it only effected his bare skin, requiring him to keep both hands on the wall, since his heavy boots found little hold on the wall. This cost him valuable seconds as he got into a position where he could kick open the shutters and throw himself through.
Landing inside Imrak rolled and quickly leap to his feet, dagger drawn in anticipation Mica was waiting for him. A quick glance around the room and Imrak was off through the door in pursuit of his prey. Rushing through to the stair well, Imrak immediately turned to head down the stairs but only got a few steps before pausing and tilting his head to one side as he listened. He could definitely hear the sounds of running feet, but they were coming from above! Suddenly looking up, Imrak turned and raced up towards the roof.
Imrak was fairly certain that the fleeing Drow was much faster, Imrak had a bulky powerful build, more akin to a boxer than a sprinter. However that powerful frame was as much a perk as a hindrance, he'd never be as fast as Mica, but he did have a lot of stamina. Imrak didn't have to worry about running as fast as his prey, he just had to keep up until the other man got tired and slowed and then he could close in for the kill.
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Posted: Sat Nov 08, 2008 7:06 pm
The situation both pleased and frightened Micarreth. As he reached the top flight of the stairs he crossed to a window and pushed the shutter open. When he had selected this building for his attack, Micarreth had entered it from the roof. Unfortunatly the roof did not have a easy access door or hatch that he could just exit out on top. He had to make use of the window instead. Opening it, he leaned his body out of it, his rump sitting on the window sill for balancing purposes as he reached his arms up above his head and grasped hold of the roof's ledge with his fingers. Placing his heels next on the window sill, he easily hauled himself up over the edge, and rolled clear. He regretted not having the time to fiddle with some of his tools in an attempt to close the windows shutters and conceal his passage route. Surely Imrak would have wasted a good deal of time searching the rooms of the upper floor if he did not notice the open window.
Once he was on top of the room, Mica was once again faced with a choice. Should he make a stand here? Ambush the warrior? It would seem like a easy enough of a thing to ping him with a dart as he came out the window, but Mica had no reservations that the warrior would easily make it to the ledge given how well he was climbing before. Heights would not prove an advantage for him this time. Even as he thought Mica's fingers twisted the scarf wrapping at his waist so two slender black tube fell out and into his waiting hand. The dagger that he had used in his climb he had sheathed as he had run up the stairs so his fingers were free for him to fit and twist the two pieces together in a single motion.
Mica tucked one end of the blowgun between his lips, and with slightly shaking fingers reached into the fold of his top to pinch out a spikey blue feather tipped dart from it's special pouch. With a fingernail he flicked to protective wax cap from the tiny needles point, and stuffed the centimeters wide dart into the end of the blowgun, and nimblelly flipped it about to place the tip with the insterted dart between his lips instead. His brows were furrowed in anxiety at this point, and he took a pair of steps back from the ledge, then crouched down with his legs folded beneath him. His ear tilted, waiting to hear for his pursuer while he watched the ledge for Imrak to curl a hand over the edge.
He expected...or perhaps the better word was hoped, that Imrak would show no hesitation in reaching up to grab the ledge. He would only need a second to launch the dart at the, he hoped, exposed skin on the back ofhis hand. After that he certainly would not wait to see the effect of the sleep poison. Thus was the reason he had his legs bent beneath him. In part it was so he would be less likely to be glimpsed standing above, and in part because once he launched the dart, he could propell himself forwards in a mad dash for the other side of the roof. The next building had a rough angled roof to it that he considered would be his best choice. As his boots had soft leather soles he figured they would grip the uneven and slanted surface easier then hard soled boots...and surely that was the kind a warrior would be wearing?
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Posted: Mon Nov 10, 2008 1:36 pm
Once at teh top of the stairs it only took a few moments for Imrak to realise Mica wasn't there, there was no way up from here an da quick charge into the few rooms on this floor revealed no place to hide. Obviously his prey had gone climbing again, going to a window he peered over the edge down to the street, expecting the assassin to attempt to make it back to street level and flee the scene.
There didn't seem to be any sign of his prey though, and Imrak doubted the other Drow could have enough of a lead to have disappeared already. Looking about he noticed the roofs of the building across the street and looked up quickly, guessing at where Mica had fled. Climbing out onto the window ledge Imrak pulled himself up an risked a quick glance over teh edge, pulling his head back almost as soon as his eyes had cleared the edge.
In that glimpse he had caught sight of his prey, waiting in ambush. By sheer luck Imraks search of the upper floor had brought him to a different window to the one Mica had climbed from. The window he had used was on the far corner of the building, but there was still the chance he'd be spotted if he tried to get over the edge here and be struck down before he closed the distance. His brief glimpse had revealed Mica had something in his mouth, since Imrak doubted the young man was up here for a smoke he guessed it was a blow gun of some sort. A deadly weapon in the right hands.
If Imrak just vaulted over the edge and charged, the distance was too great and Mica would have all teh time he'd need to line up a shot. It was a risky decision, there was a chance he'd catch his prey off guard, causing him to hesitate and there was a chance he'd miss, in which case Imrak would be on him before Mica could reload. But if Mica remained cool took his time and lined up the shot, Imrak was as good as dead. It was true to say that Imrak was rash and impulsive, but a warrior didn't get as old as he was without knowing which risks to avoid.
Moving as carefully and quietly as possible he edged around the corner and along the wall, then jumped, just managing to catch the edge of the roof of the neighbouring building. Hauling himself up Imrak swiftly moved further along the edge, away from where Mica was waiting, before jumping the gap between the buildings again. Imrak was now in a roughly 8 o'clock position to where Mica was sitting, from here Imrak began to stalk his prey, quietly approaching from behind, using teh slope of the roof to conceal his approach.
As he drew near, Imrak lowered himself to his belly and crawled closer, for fear that a roof tile would crack and give way his position under his full weight. Inching nearer, Imrak pulled his dagger free, the well honed blade, not making a whisper as it came free. Then with only a few feet between them, and sweat beading on his forehead, Imrak ponced.
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Posted: Mon Nov 10, 2008 4:49 pm
He could hear the thudding sound of doors being opened. Micarreths body tensed as he waited for the window he had used to be spied. As the seconds ticked by he could feel a trembling cramp building up in his poised legs. This he ignored though. Another aspect of the situation that he was strangely grateful for. This was no simple safe training exersize. It was as real as it could possibly get, and for this reason Micarreth felt it was far more effective as training. If he had been doing this with his weapons master odds were he would not be listening so hard, he would not be submitting himself to the prolonged discomfort of waiting. No, he would be more relaxed, so much so that he would not notice the seconds of silence that began to tic past.
But he did. As the doors stopped opening below and silence followed, Micarreths unease began to grow. No hand had appeared, and as hard as he strained his hearing he could hear no footsteps below. had he left? Surely not! The Judicator had seemed damn well set on catching him. he honestly doubted the other drow would just give up the search just because he did not find him on the top floor.
Did he believe he had somehow snuck down? Escapeing to the street was very tempting. Once below he might have tried mingling into the crowd, if only his red scarf was not so easily spied. Lloth damn Mas! He was supposed to have cast that spell for him already! Of course, it was his own vanity that made him cling to the scarf and it was his own fault that he had not worn anything darker that would blend in easily.
Where was he? Micarreths brows furrowed as he started to slowly relax his legs. The tip of the blowgun dipped a little as a rush of shame flushed his cheeks. Micarreth turned his head, glancing over the top of the roof as the realization that Imrak may have ascended the roof by another window dawned on him. He half expected to see the warrior creeping towards him. The sight of the empty rooftop did not lessen the burning snsation in his cheeks as Micarreth stretched his stiff legs up and shifted his position two steps towards the edge of the roof that he had been watching.
It was only a second later the clunk of Imrak's landing came. Micarreth released a friengthened yell and leap like a toad away from the presence that seemed to have just descended from the cavern ceiling above. "AIYAH!" He cried as he twisted about, his amber eyes wide, and the thin black tube that had been presed between his lips clattered to the rooftop. Not that Micarreth spared the blowgun a second thought as he scrambled, a touch ungracefully at that, away from Imrak. Distance! The last thing he wanted was to be within reach of the warrior!
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