The chirps of crickets split the cold night, the pale moon shining down over the enclosed courtyard. The surrounding elm trees rustle and sway slightly in the cool spring breeze. Complete silence falls over the large house and there appears to be no activity occurring within. A dark shadow sits atop a hill not far from the quiet residence, watching as a hawk watches his next kill. A single whistle pierces the air and the figure swoops down from his perch, making quick travel down to the treeline surrounding the courtyard wall. A second figure awaiting his approach appears from the shadows of the tree and they exchange a few words.

"There has been no movement within for nigh on an hour now. Any signs of a watch?"

Arlan replies in a quiet tone, "Nothing, the entire place appears empty. Something feels wrong about this one Laire."

"I've got a bad feeling about this one as well Arlan, let's remain cautious for now."

With a sigh Arlan responds, "I say we take this one slow, for all we know he may already have guards waiting for us inside."

"Agreed."

With a nod the two figures disappear into the tree, not a sound as they nimbly make their way to the topmost branches of the ancient oak. They gracefully glide from branch to branch, nearing closer to the top, and using their speed and momentum they leap to the rooftop, almost seeming to hang in the air as if to exist outside the normal effects of gravity. Silently the figures move across the great length of the rooftop with a speed second to that of raging lightning, making their way ever closer to the slumbering prey. The twang of a plucked string sounds in the distance and without so much as a thought the second figure turns to face its source, twisting her body to the side as the shot grazes past her, shaving two of her long, slender hairs in half. As if by reflex she reaches into her sleeve and lets loose a shuriken towards the arrows source, using the momentum of her turn to give it speed and force. the sharp metal star whistles through the air and makes impact, a dull thud and the sound of cracking skull emanating from the shadows where it hit. A cry of pain and the sound of a body hitting wall and sliding to ground follows shortly after.

Simultaneously Laire and Arlan reach for their weapons; their images vanishing from the rooftop the instant their hands grip the hilts. Arlan appears first in the courtyard, her cloak falling loose to her feet as she pulls a long spiked chain from her back. The leather-clad figure unleashes a furious storm, her weapon ripping apart hordes of guards as she spins and twists her body in graceful flips and maneuvers to give the chain a deadly speed. The chains spin creates a visible half-sphere that destroys anything within ten paces of its wielder, tearing through flesh and shredding the armor of her enemies. As her fury slows to a stop, Laire appears in mid-fall above the courtyard, twin katars held in his hands like the talons of a great falcon. He lands amidst the guards now surrounding Arlan, piercing two through their backs and using their bodies to soften his fall. The man moves like a shadow through the guards, his blades dealing a series of fatal blows. He flows like wind through the chaos as the guards fall around him, thin lines of blood arcing through the air in great circles, following the deadly path of the man's blades.

The slaughter continues like this for a few more moments before the last body falls, and the dark figures can be seen standing there, in a sea of bodies. They stand back to back, breathing heavily, their arms hanging loose at their sides. The threat now taken care of they continue towards the house, holding their weapons still at the ready. They push the main door open and enter the house to confront the final enemy, the target of their mission. At the far end of the great hall that very man awaits them, his back turned to them and his hands help calmly behind him. Without turning he claps his hands and the door swings shut and locks behind the two mercenaries, preventing any notions of an exit.

"I see I underestimated you two, the Lord Marshal was wise to send two of your caliber. However, do not think you have won this battle as I have only just begun to play my hand."

Laire steps forward with a defiant tone in his voice. "You talk too much Orodreth, your corruption is at an end now. You may as well give up now and die with what little honor you have left before you make a fool of yourself."

Orodreth turns the two mercenaries, staring them down ice blue eyes that feel as though they pierce the very soul.

"I dislike your tone lowlife; I advise that you stop your tongue before I remove your friend's."

With that, a dark cloaked figure whose features are shadowed by their low hood appears behind Arlan, dagger poised at her throat. A cursed dagger with a blade as twisted as the black aura that embodies it. Arlan's body stiffens to the touch of the blade against her neck and Laire glares the man down in anger.

"How befitting for such a scum that would kill his own men to pull a cowardly trick as this."

The man puts a hand to his hip as if to stand proud over the shadows before him. "You've yet to face the full extent of my power young man, I have hundreds of guards waiting outside for you so I hope you're not thinking of escaping alive. In fact that head of yours will make an excellent addition to my collection, along with that of your frie-"

Before he can finish his sentence the once stone-like figure appears in front of him and presses a dagger into his chest. The dagger stops short however as a chain shirt below the cloth catches the tip of the deadly thorn before it finds flesh. As he does so, Arlan elbows the figure behind her and pulls a dagger to cut him. As she swings though, the figure vanishes in a cloud of black, but not before slashing her across the arm with his evil thorn of a dagger. A cry of pain escapes her lips as she collapses to the floor, clutching her wound.

The man laughs even harder than before, "Did you not think I was prepared for you dear mercenary? Have you yet to see? Amon Bassiri knows nothing of what's going on, I have many men working for me within his ranks and it won't be long before we take control of the Watcher's and I end that fool's miserable leadership."

"You truly are a coward Orodreth, and you shall leave this room with a scar befitting one." Laire pulls his dagger from the man's chain, pushing the man towards the window behind him. As he does so he swings the dagger once more and draws a deep line into the man's face, creating a diagonal cut from right his right cheek and over his left eye.

The man clutches his bleeding face as he crashes through the stained glass and into the yard behind. Knowing that he has merely maimed his enemy, Laire leaves the man and runs to his collapsed friend. She lays there unconscious, her breath ragged and sweat forming on her brow. He places his fingers to her neck only to find a weak pulse. Carefully he uses his cloak to cushion her head and lifts her into his arms. bearing her weight he carries her to the door and kicks it open. With careful grace he sprints through the courtyard faster than he has ever ran before, trying desperately to bring his friend to a healer before it's too late, praying Avandra for the speed to make it in time to save her.

Leaving Mithrendain behind him, knowing he can never return, he runs northward to Everlund.