"Hmph!  Well that was quite rude.  I expected better of a legend."  Alena huffed deciding to leave the scene.  Besides, there were contracts to fulfill instead of shooting the breeze with someone...who rather loathed her company, even if that someone be a well-known assassin.

Following upon one last tip from the embittered businessman that was Lastraad before he and the assassin had parted ways, Alena continued her swift and hasty stride across the rooftops and the high passages of majestic Karstberg in pursuit of her designated target. According to the angry man and his venomous spouting of utterances towards the dark haired woman with eyes red as blood, the bastard known only as Lucien Balford was a well round drunkard who haunted a tavern in the eastern quarter of the city, a place where Alena might expect to find a lowlife such as Balford.

From high atop, she leapt to the city streets below her feet, landing safely and displaying such grace a woman of the hidden blade could exhibit. None could see her beautiful visage though hidden behind the thick scarf that obscured her luscious yet subtle lips and her petite nose and the black hood draped over her head, concealing the rest of her face in infinite shadows, the only feature Alena revealed of her identity were a pair of gleaming red eyes that peered through the darkness unto the other citizens who passed by her without a care or a second glance towards the black clad woman ominously stalking through the crowded streets and back alleys. Despite the reputation of this crime ridden district, the passages of the eastern quarter were rather lax and unguarded, not a single armed guard of the city watch patrolling the area, which only made this task so much easier than the journey from the catacombs to Bartleby's Tavern without catching sight of the nuisances armored in their thick plate and mail, nuisances being they offered no challenge to the woman, so slow and so easy to dispatch.

Alena approached the tavern's door, carefully turning the knob and nudging it open with a subtle creak of the old pinewood, immediately being sucker-punched by the raw stench of old ale and that oft musky odor of well...men, nefarious men at that. Her uninvited intrusion frankly fell unnoticed by Bartleby's many intoxicated occupants since it was drowned by their raucous drunk debauchery and cantankerous merrymaking. Most, if not many of these scruffy and bearded burly few, were sea captains and sailors who made their living upon the vast oceans, either sailing forth merchant and trader ships or fishing the high seas for a plentiful bounty to bring to market. The clanking of their iron tankards and their boastful hearty laughter intermingled with many a sea shanty they bellowed jovially. In all honesty, they were quite the vocalists in Alena's opinion, but the woman was not here to applaud the singing of sailors. Balford, he was here somewhere. It would've been sufficient if Lastraad could've given a better mental picture of this malicious ne'er do well, but the only clue he could give Alena of Balford's identity was he was a fat man with bright red hair, and from Alena's point of view, there were alot of men here who fit that particular description, however thanks to his haggard demeanor, Balford outed himself to his death dealer.

"Bartelby ye old codger! Another round of Ale for me hearties!" There he was, the obese buffoon hollering to the elderly yet still broad barkeep for more booze for him and his comrades, a select few of burly men, shirtless and obscenely immodest but their chests brandished the scars of many a tussle, not to mention a mat of nodded hairs, and some wondered why Alena preferred the company of women over men. "Right away, Balford ye ole sea dog! Aurelia! Take these fine gents their ale! That table over there!" Bartleby handed the tray of tankards, filled to the brim with intoxicating ale, to a rather scraggly young barmaid, a petite figure with dusty blonde hair in a tousled mess around her shoulders, but a face as fair as an angel. [i]I would be damned to ever frequent such a place if I were her.[/i] Alena pondered eyeing the lovely young lady, carefully sauntering across the tavern in all her dark cloak and armor towards her, all the while fetching a small vial of an ominous black substance of sorts from the pommel of her dagger sheathed to her side, next to her sword no less. "Ah...pardon me, mademoiselle." She spoke softly to the barmaid, feigning an accidental bumping into of the woman's tray she carried, but no less a faint smile crossing her lips as she saw the drops of dark liquid dissolve into Balford's beverage, along with his mates' drinks for good measure. "I should be more careful next time. Forgive me." Afterwards, before making her exit, she turned at the door to see Balford gulp down his ale.

"URGH!! B-bloody hell!" Immediately his hand grasped his fat neck as he gasped for air and groaned in an infernal storm of agony. Saliva, frothy and red with his own blood, began to seep from the cracked crevices of his mouth, and soon a torrent of red exhumed from his lips and unto the knotty cedar of the table where he sat. His chums soon followed with their own cries of pain and suffering, a commotion it did cause, but before the perpetrator was discovered, she would be long gone from this den of undesirable denizens. Before her departure though, the sly woman jumped at the opportunity to leave a kiss upon the cheek of the barmaiden, "Fare thee well, my lovely." And out the door she was, scaling the high wall next to her and taking to the rooftops again, vanished before the watch soon arrived to investigate this vile account of foul play.