Khuelas stalked the night, treading carefully through the forest, minding not to disturb the ground too much incase he was being followed.
Pausing suddenly, and lowering himself into a crouch, he pulled back his hood for a better listen at the surronding wildlife, or therefore lack of, a sharp crack boomed through the silent forest behind him, far off, but not far enough not to warrant caution. Pulling his hood up once more, slipped into the embrace of the shadows, unseen from all but the most diligent of observers.
Time passed, and slowly but surely, a Dwarf emerged from the growth of the woods into the clearing before him, muttering quietly in Common, a language which he was all too familiar with. Khuelas eyed him carefully, his fingers curling around his blade, waiting for the chance to strike.
He was patient, an assassin was required to be, however his cursed state lent itself well to this task, Forsaken never requiring food, water, or oxygen, they could stay in the field, hidden, indefinitely, until boredom and restlessness got the better of them.
The Dwarf stepped foward, his back turned to the hollowed oak where the Forsaken was waiting, like a lion waiting to pounce, just as deadly, if not more.
Khuelas pulled the blade from his scabbard, throwing it through the air with such a force that the very air split with the momentum, watching eagerly, as it plunged itself home, at the base of the Dwarf's skull. The man before him stood for a second, attempted to turn, then slumped to the cold, hard earth with a sickening thud, it was over before it had even began.
Rising from his hiding place he walked slowly over to the fallen enemy before him, making sure that the dwarf was really dead, resiliant bastards, the dwarfs, it wouldn't be the first time a Forsaken had fallen to a not quite dead Dwarfs final attempts at retribution. When he reached the body, he unsheathed his second sword and plunged it deep into the corpse, severing the spine with a sickening crack, placing his boot on the man's back, he kicked it hard, freeing his blade with a mighty heave, blood flying through the air, and trickling down the blade. Cleaning it, and retriving the first thrown sword he returned both to their sheaths in one fluid motion, whilst turning, and continued his trek, letting the calm stillness of the night shroud the area once more, and just as quick as the silence returned, he was gone.
Subject: Patience Is A Virtue. 
Wed Jun 01, 2011 11:24 am
