[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/k6ISKjx.png[/img]
[hider=𖦭]STR [b][2][/b] | DEX [b][3][/b] | MAG [b][1][/b] | DEF [b][1][/b] | RES [b][1][/b] | AGI [b][3][/b] | LCK [b][4][/b]

[b]《 Luck of the Devil 》[/b]
[i]Fortune favours the foul. +3 LCK.[/i][/hider][sub][@Zeroth][@TheMushroomLord][@PKMNB0Y][/sub][/center]
It had been a blink-or-miss-it moment, but his ears had caught the whistling wind, even if his instincts didn’t allow him to react in any way. One moment, the two were focused on the package, and the next, a dagger had stuck itself firmly into a rotten wooden board, while a line of blood traced itself upon Meira’s cheek.

Danger. Palpable, [i]real[/i] danger. Sharper than just a crazy bastard shouting at ghosts in the subway. Sharper than a bunch of drunk teens mucking about by the gas station past midnight. Perhaps he should have ignored that sensation, let it pass over. He’d done that plenty of times before, where it’d make more sense to walk away and ignore strange things rather than risk getting stuck beneath months of legal bullshit and fees.

Now though?

He watched the earth-carving swings, the mud and refuse that trailed upwards in the wake of Meira’s strikes. He watched the cloaked man retreat immediately, springing further back down the path, to where C and the slime laid. This was a world of brute violence, wasn’t it? A world of brute violence and…

The High Elf picked up the package. It was heavier than expected, and the weight of the object was off despite its uniform shape. He grasped the handle of the thrown dagger as well, wiggling it out of the wood, examining the blade itself. It glistened in the daylight, a clear fluid clinging to the metallic surface. What was that substance? And, why wou-

This time, his ears caught the whistling wind and he responded properly, Cassius dropping head-first into dirt as a second set of blades flew past where his back had been a blink ago. It pieced itself together too easily now. One for a decoy, to pull the armed adventurer away. Perhaps the knife throw was meant to miss purposefully, knowing that if it had caused actual injury, Meira’s decision-making would have leaned towards rapid escape instead. Perhaps she was known well enough around those parts that they accounted for her berserker behavior.

It didn’t matter much though.

A second individual stepped out, their countenance covered by a mask as they drew a longer blade that glistened with the same [i]poison[/i].

Cassius scrambled to his feet, holding the package to his chest and feeling his heart hammer against it.

Would they leave if he gave up the package? Would they kill him either way, for having been the one to discover it? Should he run, and fundamentally end up running away from the one person who could protect him? Or should he try to fend this assailant off, with nothing more than a knife the length of his hand?

The blood rushing to his head was making him dizzy. The stress compounding, the possibilities twisting.

And just like that, the initiative was given to the masked assassin.