(Behold, the might of Googer, and Goldeagle) [b] THE NIGHT OF THE 76TH [/b]

With the stoic, unmoving diligence, the Phoenix Tower’s contingent of Royal Guards stood vigil throughout the citadel as night crept down upon Skyhaven. Every errant flicker of movement was guarded against, every corridor and doorway thoroughly scanned. With torches and blades in hand, the swollen garrison checked every ceiling vault and every crenellation with the utmost care. At the entryway of the more sensitive offices and sleeping quarters, a pair of seasoned houseblades stood watch. The whole of the palace was on high alert following the recent murder and on the account of the uneasy diplomatic situation throughout the realm. The breaches used by the assassins on the night of the summit had been recognized. It seemed another intrusion into Phoenix Tower would be impossible now.

It seemed.

The silent night would’ve worn down even the most vigilant of guards, but tonight was different. The men felt off, and their hair stood on end at the mere thought of another intrusion. At the walls a few guards sucked in the cool night air, and exhaling with a shutter, as a slight chill made its pass through their body. 

“Cold out tonight,” A guard noted, glancing at the guard who leaned over the wall in observation. “Damned winter,” He said again after a few seconds of no response. The guard made an insulated face at his silent comrade, “what are you lookin’ at anyway?”

 The guard approached, his chain mail clinking against his scabbard. He placed his gloved hand on the silent mans shoulder, “Karl?”The guard went to turn the man around and, as he placed his hand upon him, the body fell limply to the ground onto his back, blood pooling around the head. A sharp fear froze the frightened guard as he stared at the flesh of Karls face, his skin completely missing with torn edges hanging limp off the bloody muscle. When all of a sudden a cold blade sunk its teeth through the guards chainmail and severing the spine. The guard collapsed to the ground next to Karl with a lifeless thud as a dark cloaked man stood behind him, wearing the face of Karl stretched across his own visage. Soon with a swift wind, another assassin appeared behind the first, who simply pointed at the untouched dead guard.
 
 The Assassins sprinted stealthily on soft padded boots to the base ramparts of the citadel with a silent grace; wearing the bloody faces of men that were not their own. One guard saw their steady and quick approach off the wall from down on the streets, and a blow dart saw its own approach to the guards eye, puncturing it with a quick and imposing pain and paralyzing the victim instantly. The first assassin leapt into the air and tackled the stiff man with serrated knives slicing through the air and eventually through the man's jugular with an audible rip. [i]No witnesses, no survivors,[/i] The assassin thought as they continued now uninterrupted until they came upon four guards milling about along the tower’s perimeter.

The second assassin made a quick hand motion and the other nodded. With deadly accuracy two darts flew through the air and found their bloody rest in the two left guards bare necks, causing them to gasp silently in a suffocating terror. The other two guards turned to the dying men and went to unsheathe their swords, only to find them missing. Both guards quickly paled at the realization as their heads were lopped off in a quick synchronized fashion. ‘

They had arrived at the foot of the tower itself now, to it’s marble facades glowing white in the moonshine. The spire terminated far above them amongst the stars above at a crown of alabaster minarets. Somewhere up there, just beneath those highest points, the Regent slept soundly in his bed. A sleep, the assassins had vowed, Shamgar would never wake from. All that remained now was the task of scaling the most heavily-guarded structure in Elyden; twenty to thirty floors, each teeming with guards.

One of the ebony robe-clad assassins gestured silently to the peak of the citadel far above them. With a nod of understanding, his accomplice drew for the heavy, wicked implements strapped against their belts. They sheathed their blades and in each hand took a heavy, iron climbing hook with points beaten down into sharp tips, ideal for sliding in between the masonry of an edifice. With a deft jab of the hook into a seam between the marble blocks, he began the treacherous climb up the very walls of the Phoenix Tower. His shadowy accomplice trailed just behind him.

Black robes fluttered in the frigid gusts as they ascended the spire, the winds high above the city themselves seeming to act in defense of its Regent. But the assassins’ grip proved true, the efforts of the howling wind notwithstanding. Regularly they looked down to check their progress, watching as Skyhaven’s lights sank farther and farther beneath them.

As they advanced steadily upward, the black duo came upon their first obstacle: one of the citadel’s numerous balconies. The first Assassin lifted one hand from his life bearing hooks and made a gesture, the other nodded, but before action could take place, a curious guard peaked over the balcony in fatal ignorance. His glance was quickly met with a sharp thrown knife to the face, misting his blood into the cold air as his body gave way and fell down to the seemingly unreachable ground. Two more faces quickly responded with their own glances. A climbing hook whirled upwards and dug its claw into the man's collar bone with a thick steely prong, a sudden jerk ripping him off his feet and sending his body up and over and the assassin to the balconies lip. The thrown guards helpless body scrambled for a grip as his weight sent him against the tower, colliding with the stone wall with a cracking and crushing sound of his rib cage. With a frightened and shaking tone the last guard unsheathed his blade and pointed it at the assassin that sat so calmly and silently on the lip of the balcony staring with unblinking, icy eyes, Karls smiling face only visible from a windows soft emitting glow. The guard lung forward, but with an inhuman speed the Assassin rebuttled with a quick grab of the guards wrist, sending him over the ledge with the use of his own force. The second Assassin quickly rejoined the ascended first, and with an approving silent nod, the two resumed their bloody approach.

Their hooks dug into marble in lieu of flesh and mail as they ascended once more. A long, exhausting climb it was; the faintest rays of the sun’s light could be seen in the eastern horizon, diluting the blackness of night with a dark blue. Morning was fast approaching and time was running out. But, in their favor, the destination was at last in their lethal gaze.

A stained window looking out above the nocturnal Aglil countryside. The decorated window was of little concern to the professional murderers as they quickly dug chisels into the plaster, quickly displacing the colored window that was soon to be stained crimson with blood. Unceremoniously, they tossed the liberated window aside, kept intact so as to minimize disturbance. With soft feet, the two shadows slipped into the room with macabre intent. 

Before their very blood lust filled eyes, their quarry lay asleep, helpless against their sickening and gruesome tools of death. The demons slowly approached, their minds already decided on what to do to their limp and sleeping victim, a disturbing smile crescented behind the pale dead lips of Karl, revealing filed sharp teeth, a clear mirror into the meaning of their very existence. An air of chilled wind followed their approach from the opened window, giving a physical feel to the pairs stone cold hearts and absent souls. A hollow dagger was pulled out of a metal sheath with a careful hand, a small trickle of clear desert liquid drizzled out of the sharp tip and slided down the razor’s edge, ready to claim another life as its own. Here the silent hunt ends, here the blade caught a shimmer of what light the early dawn had to offer, revealing the two murderers horrendous masked faces. 

But the gusts whistling through the wind alerted one to the arrival of the assassins. Shamgar had not been left entirely unguarded as he slept. A single houseblade stood vigil over Shamgar’s bed, feigning drowsiness, but keenly aware of the assassins in his midst. He looked half-asleep, oblivious to the murderers, but the delayed action of his hand slowly drawing a shortsword was obvious to both assassins.

A single houseblade guarded the Regent as he slept. It seemed comical to the assassins, insulting perhaps. The defense against the deadliest killers in Elyden was a single houseblade watching over the Regent while he slept? This glorified palace guard thought himself sufficient to thwart the machinations of the Black Scorpions? He would be made to suffer for his presumptuous illusion. 

The assassins drew their blades, setting aside the reserved dagger to fluidly and silently produce their exotic yexaras from their sheaths. It was apparent that the houseblade’s feigned obliviousness was fooling no one. His shortsword left its sheath with a quiet shiver as he brought the point to bear. He approached the assassins, moving silently across the Ashishian carpet laid out at the foot of the bed. The assailants sidestepped about the creeping houseblade, the first began to fancifully swing his blade, catching the dawn’s growing light in flashes, distracting the guard as the second leapt with a quiet step, sending his sharp tempered yexara in a low swooping motion, eating through the sentinels exposed leg, and catching itself halfway through the bone. The man was sent off his feet from the devastating blow, only to be caught by the Karl bearing assassin’s cold gloved hands. The killers fingers gripped the sides of his head, and with a fatal jerk and twist, the man was no more. 

Shamgar awoke to the sound of snapping bone and tendon. At the very foot of his bed, the houseblade charged with his protection lay in a bloody heap on the the carpet. A soft ‘shing’ sounded as the deadly dagger returned to the hand of the Assassins. 

Dread swelled within Shamgar as the knife scintillated in the pre-dawn light; panic assured him of the grisly doom awaiting him. But with logic’s return to his mind, recollection of the plan came with it. He glanced down to the assassin’s feet: planted upon the blood soaked carpet. The houseblade had done his duty - the trap was sprung.

Shamgar’s arm shot from beneath the blankets and tugged for dear life upon a rope tied taut alongside his bed. With a loud clank and the sound of a gear dropping, hinges were released with a loud grind and shriek of metal, collapsing a weight and sending a large chain net to shoot to the ceiling with a scream of the metal, pinning the snared second assassin the the ceiling, and clipping the first and tripping him to the ground with a thud. The thunderous sound precipated the door bursting open and a swarm of guards armed with myriad pointed blades, sharpened and ready to strike down the intruders spilled in. A few guards accessed the trap’s prey while the others surrounded the seemingly unconscious first assassin.

The guards faces turned white and a sickened bulb formed in their stomachs at the sight of the terrible mask. The assassins fingers moved slightly, and with an unexpected motion, he launched himself off the ground with a powerful force, sending his poisoned dagger deep into the side of the closest guard, while unsheathing his yexara in one single motion. The guards swung, but the assassin was determined and stabbed and cut his way closer to Shamgar, who sat not knowing what to do. Many deep cuts and lacerations began to riddle the assassins torso and arms, but more foreign blood stained his skin than his own as he disemboweled a lunging guard with a skilled stab and rip to the side, sending his blade in a arcing swing to the next opposer, ending their life as the singing blade sank through the fleshy neck with an exotic ‘shing’. 

The crimson devil grew weak as a sword found its way into his back, and tearing apart his lung. With one last final raspy breath the killer spoke in a weak and beaten voice, “it is not suffic-”

 The ambitious murderer collapsed dead onto the guard in front if him, his arm reaching past the horrified man as his outstretched finger tips just touched the blood spattered blankets of the Regent's bed. Blood poured out of the Assassin's many cuts and punctures, his white and red bone clearly visible on his butchered arm, as his flesh was continuously hacked away by the still panicked guards, who have never known such immortality. 

Content that the remaining threat to Shamgar’s safety had been snuffed out, the surviving guards who had retained their sanity after witnessing the slaughter meted out by the one assassin turned their attention to the one wriggling in the chain net on the ceiling.

“Cut ‘im down.” The guard captain ordered. With a deft yank on a jingling chain hanging from the ceiling of the bedchamber, a guard sent the iron net crashing down to the floor with the assassin still trapped within. No sooner than it had hit the floor, the would-be murder within flailed about yet again underneath the weight of the chains that ensnared him.

“He’s alive yet,” a guard shouted emphatically as a stunted cackle lingered from the beaten body of the assassin.

“Excellent work.” Shamgar acknowledged, clearly unnerved by the hysterical captive. “To the dungeons with him.”