Early Morning in the Main Market Square
Her eyes searched the crowd and at last her gaze rested on and followed her quarry. She left her companion and without losing her tailee, she navigated the crowd and came up slowly behind him. She quietly followed him for a bit and then she removed her cloak and let it drop behind her, under the feet of the busy travellers, buyers and merchants in the street.
She quickened her pace and brushed past him, pickpocketing him as she did so. He grabbed her arm as and stopped her in the middle of the crowd. She looked at him guiltily, and he raised his hand to reprimand her for her folly. She lowered her head as if ready for the blow, and he released her arm. Her hands flew behind her back and emerged, flashing steel in the sun, she felled him with a flurry of glinting blows.
Screams and panic overtook the crowd and they scattered, fleeing the man lying in his own pool of blood in the center of the market. She fled with the crowd and rejoined her companion, who wrapped a new cloak around her and they melted into the hustle of the escaping stampede.
Inside the Orc Stronghold
Clinks, clangs, thuds, bangs, screams and war cries eminated from the throne room. The guard squad tried to open the doors found them locked and immediately began breaking them down. The noises continued until the doors fell in a heap of splintered wood.
The anxious orcs were greeted with a view of their brethren strewn about the room in various stages of death. The thrones and all other furniture were neatly arranged and the chandelier swung gently from side to side. No sign of their brothers' assailant heartened them as they filed into the room to help the dying.
As the last of the five orcs entered, suddenly a black hooded-cloaked figure appeared in the center of the dias upon which the throne sat. The orcs drew their weapons waiting for some sign of a coming attack.
The shroud rustled as arms and hands emerged to reveal two finely-crafted ladies fans that glinted in the sconce lights. The head rose to reveal the chiseled features of a young woman. She glared around the room at each guard and then purred, "Take your friends out of here they need some help." She closed her fans, sheathed them behind her back and bent to grab her pouch from under the throne.
One of the orcs tried to take advantage of her distraction, and charged her with his mace drawn. She calmly drew a fan, sliced his throat and tossed him aside. "Get out," she warned, "unless you want to suffer his fate."