At first glance none could tell he didn't belong there.
He walked with his head held high, stance relaxed, his clothes a simple garment in the royal colours everyone in Vigil's Keep wore, another servant, nothing amiss.
Anything else but a first glance would tell you otherwise however. While his walk was relaxed and casual, it made no sound, one couldn't hear him approach. While his clothes were simple ones fit for a servant they sat too loose over him, at first glance concealing the trim waist and wide shoulders of a man not making his living as a servant, not to mention concealing a set of extremely light black leather armour. The fact he was a tall human, with his skin tanned under a sun he'd been under for many a time also marked him out from any regular servant.
His dark brown trousers were smudged with dirt from when he had eased himself over crenelations, flecks of blood still stuck to his hands from where he had slain the odd guard in his path...and he was smiling charmingly, knowing the smile would draw attention to his face rather then any other oddities for a precious moment if he bumped into anyone.
And he would only need a moment.
On the inside Taliesin was torn however. In his blood burned a desire for vengeance, for the death of the woman that had caused him pain, surprisingly much so considering he hadn't thought himself able to care for his lovers, old or new, any more. Such desires were dangerous however, and he suppressed them, which was easy considering the cloak of fear enveloping him.
For this was no mere target. True, wardens, even warden Commanders, had been assassinated before, by the Crows or otherwise...but this was no mere warden, this was the damned Hero of Ferelden! The slayer of dragons, scourge of darkspawn and probably the greatest warrior that had lived for centuries!
Not to mention the precautions taken, he had been hired through middle-men, not surprising given his line of work, but there had been more then usual...and all had ended up dead at the end. Taliesin knew he was good though, a great asset to the Crows, as such they would not kill him unless there was a chance that he could be traced or identified...as such he had so far killed anyone spotting him, thankful that the night kept most people asleep or otherwise occupied. The signal was clear though, they wanted no evidence of Crow involvement, nor of their employer, revealed...and Taliesin felt himself sweat a little at the danger he was in by simply having accepted the mission.
So what's worse? Getting killed by vengeful Fereldens or professional Crows? The answer was obvious, but Taliesin didn't like the idea of being torn apart by an angry mob all that much either, especially not if they would have their chantry priests call down the curse of the Maker upon him. As if my soul could be saved... He almost scoffed at the idea, almost.
He was still smiling when he turned the final corner of the halls he'd been wandering, having memorized the twists and turns of the Keep a week ago. All was already planned, he knew the other two waited at the other end of the hall, having arrived a few moments before him.
It had all been planned meticulously, another sign of how worried the Crows were about the target surviving and wreaking vengeance, she was not known for mercy after all. Not to mention a sign about how well paid they'd been by clients just as anxious as the professionals for nothing to go wrong.
The hall was a full thirty feet in length, a single wooden door at the right side and centre of the well-lit hall. The two guards there were in full heavy mail armour, both with shields and swords that were now being drawn as they turned to face him. Quick and alert...seems all the guards are like that in this keep, their Commander must make them nervous. Taliesin nearly grinned at the thought as he reached back behind him with his hands, easily finding the blade tucked into his belt.
"You there! There is to be no traffic through this hall." The closest guard growled while pointing his sword at Taliesin , eyes narrowed in irritation over the servant that probably had gotten himself lost.
Taliesin 's smile remained, as much for his own benefit...since it somehow bolstered his courage, as if he was fooling himself...as it was for the pair of guards. "Oh but I'm to see the Commander."
The guard blinked in confusion. "See the Co-?"
The question ended with a choking sound as Taliesin 's tiny dagger whirled through the air and struck the man just above his mail armour, cleanly entering his throat. Even if it hadn't struck so neatly it would have been a killing hit, the concentrated Deathroot extract covering the blade having entered the man's blood and rushed to his skull in the blink of an eye, making his brain seize up in another blink.
With a thud of metal against metal that made Taliesin wince the guard fell back into the arms of his friend.
"You-!"
Whatever the second guard was about to shout ended as a dark shape appeared at the other end of the hall, a whirling blade taking the man in the spine where the poison did it's magic, paralysing the man.
Then Taliesin was there, catching both men before they could fall, holding them until the other two assassins could close the distance and help him in gently dropping the corpses to the ground even as one of them with the efficiency of a professional slit their throats, just to be safe.
Straightening Taliesin regarded the other assassins. Both were unknown to him, just another sign that the Crows were taking every precaution, there would be no linking the assassins to one another later on if one got caught.
The one who had thrown the dagger into the second guard was a blond woman, her hair tied up into a small pony-tail, a pretty face...as most Crow women had...though now it was tight-lipped and focused, the blue eyes that no doubt could look so innocent and sweet cold and heartless. The other, who by now had tossed aside the dagger used to slit the guards throats was a dark skinned man with a curly black beard and even curlier hair, his dark brown eyes narrow and hard as he offered Taliesin a curt nod.
They didn't speak, there was no need.
As one the three reached for the weapons strapped to their chests underneath their tunics, tossing the garments aside like old cocoons, revealing their dark leather armour, the armour of killers. Each of them carried a pair of long daggers now, and crouching they applied the poison they hadn't dared to apply earlier. Quiet Death...a poison so potent even Taliesin eyed the blades with worry, knowing the slightest touch of it could potentially kill him, he was suddenly very grateful for his gloves...
Done they moved for the door, knowing they wouldn't have time to hide the two guards if they wanted to escape in time. With Taliesin and the other man using their larger bulks to ward off the light of the hallway they let the woman move up to the door, finding it unlocked she inched it open, leaving just enough of a gap for her to slip in before the others followed, Taliesin carefully closing the door behind them.
Inside the room was dark, there were no windows nor lamps, as expected. Standing perfectly still, slightly hunched over with arms to their sides in offensive stances the three killers waited, letting their eyes acclimatise to the darkness.
The room was not what he had expected. There was no great bed, or even luxury, in the room of the great Commander. To his left there was an area clearly meant to be an office for administration, the scrolls thick in the many bookshelves and on the large desk dominating the room. To the right, he noted with professional eyes, a suit of armour with a still sharp sword. Two pedestals with unimportant items atop them. And a weapon rack that was close to them containing a bow, a large axe, a pair of oddly familiar daggers, a dark collar and a piece of what seemed to be dried wood.
All that was unimportant when he spotted the cot though.
The bed was pitifully small for a great leader of the wardens, more similar to the small thing Taliesin had slept in during his sea-journey to Ferelden then a bed for the Hero of Ferelden. And in it..
She looks pitiful. Curled up in a small ball in the cot with her back facing them the elf woman's skin was pale grey in the darkness, resembling a small rock almost, its surface cracked with pale white scars. I...didn't think she'd be so...small. Taliesin had of course had a detailed description of the woman, but it was hard to equate the tiny little figure curled up in the corner of the room to the fearsome Hero of Ferelden...it just didn't fit.
Unimportant, you don't get paid to think about those things. Taliesin gestured at the small elf, making all three of them stir and advance.
They only managed one step before it came: "Ah."
All three dropped into low crouches, weapons raised defensively as heads turned left and right, looking for a hidden third guard even as Taliesin felt a shiver of dread run up his spine as a sickly realisation of where the word had emanated from reached him.
She rolled onto her back, then sat up, hugging her legs tightly as she stared straight ahead, ignoring the three assassins, making Taliesin swallow a pit of worry. The Hero of Ferelden had awoken...and the three killers were frozen in the moment, staring at her. The woman was naked, though nothing showed as she held her legs tightly, her pale grey skin shimmering slightly with sweat from some no doubt taint-induced nightmare. Yet her voice betrayed no discomfort: "Managed to enter the Keep, expensive equipment...and training judging by your stances."
The voice was oddly soft, in stark contrast with what Taliesin had heard, making both him and the two others nervously shuffle where they stood. She doesn't sound like that heartless harpy they spoke of? Even the rumours in the taverns spoke of someone more...harsh.
"Crows are you?" The other two flinched at the question even as Taliesin narrowed his eyes at the woman, finding her calm voice oddly...frightening. Surely she realises she's about to die? Should she not...do something? Or is she one of those who has come to terms with their death? "Must have been expensive hiring you." The conversational tone was tainted with a softness Taliesin had never heard in any of his victims. No, not to terms...she's...not afraid of us? I...
The others inched forward, but only a little before coming to a sudden stop. Following their gazes Taliesin saw the blade, a small thing, barely longer than of a finger, casually held in Lynn's left hand, the woman holding it as if she had forgotten about it. It's not that big...and just a touch of our blades and she'll-
"I knew a Crow once..." The elf continued, not the least bothered by the three assassins as her eyes stared out straight ahead, as if she had forgotten about the others in the room. "...a friend...I think."
"Zevran." Taliesin found himself choking on the name and ignored the stares of the other two assassins, wondering why he would volunteer information that might endanger his survival. So did he, but he couldn't help himself, the name was dragged out of him by the moment...making him shudder in the darkness.
The elf didn't seem to have heard him, her eyes distant as she spoke: "In a way he got me..." There was a small shudder in the elf as she lowered her head, a grimace across her face. "...before I killed him."
There it was. Guilt, sadness...but only a little, as if a distant echo of real emotions. Taliesin had heard she actually hadn't killed the assassin...but none the less a growl escaped him, the need for revenge digging into him.
"He was good..." The grimace disappeared as the elf looked up, revealing tendrils of silver tears across her cheeks as she smiled at them, a tired smile, revealing a weariness beyond words. "...nearly killed me...and I wonder..." The smile turned vicious. "...if you can match him!"
Then there was an explosion of movement, the elf rolling off her bed, the toes of her right foot having gripped the cover she had lay on and now throwing the thing at the assassins as she landed on all fours besides her bed.
The three moved to dodge, only for the dark-skinned assassin to have the cover smash into his face as he tried to move to the left of the room. Cursing her slashed it aside...
A second later the elf was past him, the man's legs sagging until his knees thumped into the floor, his weapons dropping from shaking hands as the moved to stem the sudden spurt of dark blood shooting out from the side of his neck.
But the artery was cut perfectly...and Taliesin could only watch in mute horror as the expert assassin fell prone, never to move again. So fast! We have to-!
Taliesin found himself ducking back and parrying the little knife of the elf as she came at him like a bolt of lightning, her scarred flesh seemingly rippling like some wicked snake as she nearly slit his throat. Maker! Taliesin gasped, he knew the Hero of Ferelden would be hard to fight if it came down to that...but never when fighting him with a weapon barely the size of a razor!
The female assassin came to his rescue though, an impressive pattern of cuts and thrusts from her twin daggers creating a web of lethal strikes as she advanced on the little elf.
The pale elf parried a slash with her tiny dagger, then diverted a thrust with it, so fast it was almost impossible to see. She ducked low, to the left, right, back, parry, divert...wherever the pattern of strikes came the elf either stopped the blow with her tiny weapon or simply wasn't there, evading blades whose mere touch would bring such a small woman near death.
Then she suddenly leapt up, from no preparation, or even a hint of a warning...the elf jumped high, vaulting the assassin and making her stumble forward in surprise as she found her target landing behind her.
The elf had landed right next to the already dead assassin, and as Taliesin watched, struck numb by what he saw, she placed her left foot under the handle of one of the poisoned daggers before kicking up.
It all moved so slowly...as Taliesin watched the female assassin turned to face the elf whose right hand moved across her chest to catch the blade she had kicked up, the assassin's own blades raised to parry the tiny dagger lunging for her chest, forcing the weapon over her left shoulder.
Then Lynn spun with the movement, her right arm swinging in a wide reverse cut.
And then the assassin gurgled as she spun counter-clockwise and stumbled backwards, her throat cut.
Taliesin blinked, feeling warm blood splash over his face, as he watched the other assassin drop to the floor, a small shudder running through her before she went still.
This...she's unreal...
For a moment they just stood there, the elf cocking her head to the side as she regarded him, looking almost...disappointed?
Then the vicious look reappeared. The gaunt features of the woman splitting into a grin. "Your turn, don't disappoint now." Then she moved, her pale scars rippling like a coiled spring as she lunged.
And Taliesin knew terror.
Duck, parry, jump, leap, duck, parry. There was no time to think, no time to formulate a plan. Taliesin desperately fended himself with all his skill from a woman whose blades were just a pair of blurs before him, her nearly feral grin still on her face as she pressed her advantage without even a hint of the extreme pace tiring her.
I'm going to die.
Taliesin blinked sweat out of his eyes as he jumped back, finding Lynn's smaller dagger gouge his armour at his chest despite his quick reflexes.
I'm going to die!
Desperately he scrambled backwards, daggers swinging widely to force the elf back. She merely parried the blows and pushed after him, the poisoned dagger slicing off a piece of his leather greave, making him scream with the terror of being poisoned. No time to check! Maker! I- He felt burning pain as Lynn's other dagger drew a deep wound across his left arm, tearing its muscles apart and turning it slack.
No!
He lunged, blinded with fear and sweat.
Resistance, flesh parting, a gasp for air...hot breath against his ear.
The elf was paler now, yet still grinning at him, close, her lips trembling.
Taliesin couldn't believe it, staring in disbelief as the elf pushed close to him, shaking as her left hand gripped at his shoulder, her voice but a whisper: "Ah...good..."
Pain.
Taliesin barely felt it at first, it was a mere distant throb of something digging into his gut as he stared at the grinning face before him, the lips turning blue before his very eyes.
Pain!
It tore through him, knocked his breath away as his insides was turned into liquid fire, enveloping him and making him lean against the elf as he felt all strength leave him.
Poi...poison...I... The world turned blurry, the ground uneven, as if the entire world was listing all of a sudden. N-no...I...this...no...
"H-how ro-romantic..." The elf's voice was distant, soft, gentle...he felt his mind spin as the words dragged him with them, embracing him. "...d-dying to-together..."
A crash of a door opening, a cry of warning.
All distant, unimportant.
A dying laugh...
Darkness.
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As always, appreciation goes to Abydos Jackson for her aid.