The curved steel talon made the barest whisper of metal on metal as the assassin deftly withdrew it from his sheath at his waist. he cursed himself for making even that much noise. To be an assassin was to be silent as a shadow, lethal as a cobra, and as visible as the air he was now breathing.
He was the best The Dark Brotherhood had to offer. His name was so feared, and so seldom used, it had been forgotten altogether. To most, the Nord s deeds defied any attempts at a title. He was simply there and gone, like a specter.
he peered downward to the clearing just below him. There was nothing, but his instincts told him differently. he held his breath, stayed completely still...and was rewarded with the sound of crunching snow below him.
he gripped tighter on his dagger, watching as the crunching got louder, approached his line of sight. He was rewarded with the sight of his target, in a hooded robe, hurrying alone through the clearing.
The assassin leaped out of his hiding spot, landing on the target and tackling her, then raising his dagger high before getting a good look into her eyes...
The eyes of an Argonian. This was not his target.
He had only a second to register this before his ears detected the sound of a bowstring being pulled from 30...no...20 yards behind him. He had been set up!
The assassin quickly dove off of the prone lizard man before rolling through the snow and springing into a defensive position, keeping himself low and his assailant in his sights.
The dark skinned Imperial Guard approached him, readying another arrow into assassin was at a tactical disadvantage. he rolled into the bushes behind him and ran just in time to hear an arrow whizzing past his left ear.
Two more guards appeared from behind trees and started to open fire. All he could think about was staying alive at this point. To hell with the mission, to hell with the brotherhood. as far as he knew, there was no target.
Then, a stinging pain sliced through his right calf. He had been shot. He could no longer run...but he could still fight. He reared back his right arm and hurled his dagger into the first Imperial Guard s forehead, laughing inwardly that he wasn t smart enough to wear a helmet in his line of work. then he drew his glass longsword from his sheath and prepared himself for the fight of his life.
Later, a lucky adventurer would be fortunate enough to loot four corpses in the same place. The moral of the story? Don t do drugs.