[center][h3]Target Acquired[/h3][/center]

[hr]

The children taunted him, though he didn't move an inch as they berated him with racial slurs and pitiless names. He didn't say a word, and even his chest rose and fell so slowly that it almost seemed as if he was a statue. The children stopped after a few moments, suddenly convinced that perhaps they had been taunting a very life-like sculpture, one of the kids even leaning in to examine Daixanos. 

Until his entire body shook from the low rumble that reverberated from his body, and a growl that might come from a beast twice his already considerable muscled size escaped his mouth. The kids screamed in fright and leaped back, before running away and looking back horrified every few moments until they were out of sight, some now crying. Dax's growl had been a warning, but he hadn't expected them to be fearful for their life. 

"Landstriders," he muttered, and decided if mere children could find him on the ground, he would take a vantage point elsewhere above the garden. Within minutes, he had scaled the manor walls and found a nearby three story building with an archway that hung near the edge of the manor gardens. Dax found a spot to crouch and watch, comfort the furthest thing from his mind as he watched. Like a crocidilian basking in the sun, he didn't move once more, and waited as long as Gustav would deem he wait to overwatch the operation. 

Fortune it seems, was fickle, because he did not need to wait long. He thought to reach for his bow, seeing the guards slump and the cloaked figures moved past them. He waited until the opportune moment, just as the cloaked figures stepped into the doorway. He slung himself downwards and slid into the garden with practiced ease. 

Swiftly, the Argonian Hunter strode his way as silent as death to the downed guards. Luckily, the true death had not reached these men. Fast asleep, and their breathing showcased it was real sleep, not unconsciousness. He hissed, feeling the stench of foul sorcery. If there was one thing he loathed, it was wizardry and magicka. His tail lashed with barely suppressed disgust. He nocked an arrow to his bow, leaving the guards to their slumber before pacing within the halls. 

Around various bends and more slumbering guards, Dax found his way to a small antechamber under the Manor. A basement the surface dwellers would call it, he remembered. Raised voices, human he believed. It had always been hard for him to tell the difference between man and mer in looks, much less voices. But he could see the glint of weapons from his crouching form, hidden within the shadows beyond the room. 

They were not guards. Mercenaries by the look of them. Hardened soldiers, paid to work for the highest bidder at any given moment. He knew they couldn't be trusted. Slowly, ever so slowly, he drew the bowstring back, moving the weapon inexorably to a position where he might aim. Whoever these men or mer were, he would not allow them to disrupt the party. He had been given orders, and as long as his loyalty was to the party... 

He would hunt and kill to follow them. It was what he did. 

It was what he was.