Assallya

Medieval Assassins

Worst castle guards ev-ER! *lol*

Medieval Assassins

Morana watched carefully through a veil of hay at the proceedings. The captured assassin was defiant, as they all were, standing in his chains and awaiting to be brought forth onto the grand stage where he would stand beneath the noose. The gypsy girl watched dispassionately as the throng grew. The common folk always loved a good execution. They simply couldn't resist the spectacle. In a life of toil and drudgery, little provided more comfort than watching someone suffering worse than you were.

As she watched a white hooded spectator sidled closer to the wagon, hands caressing his own forearms nervously. Morana waited silently as he came closer and closer. Then the young man braced himself to climb into the wagon of hay she was hiding in. Foolish assassins, they always loved hiding in hay filled wagons. At the last moment Morana reached out and pulled the assassin into the wagon with her, nothing more than the rustle of hay to signal the man's disappearance. In but the blink of an eye she had a knife against the young man's throat and her legs wrapped around his torso.

"What is the plan to rescue your friend?" she whispered softly, sliding the knife's edge up and down his jugular.

The boy said nothing, his fear drying his throat and forcing him to swallow despite himself. It drew out a bead of blood against his pale skin. She then kissed him, drawing her lips slowly along his.

"You could live," she promised him, "and I could make it worth your while, both in coin and... with other things."

Again the boy said nothing, simply staring into her green eyes blue eyes defiantly. She grimaced and thrust her blade up to the hilt into the flesh behind the base of his jaw and up through the open cavity at the base of his skull. With a savage twist, she enlarged the wound and ensured it was fatal.

"Unfortunate," Morana said to the dead boy and kissed him again on the lips before wiping off her blade on his clothing, "I greatly prefer making people rich than killing them."

Moving quickly, she slipped out of the hay and made herself into one of the assembled crowd, watching the impending execution. There would be other assassins out there somewhere. They wouldn't have sent a lone boy, barely trained, to do such a job.

Medieval Assassins

I should also point out that the princess' castle is the Templar headquarters and teeming with guards all over. It's not a safe place for an assassin to be.

Medieval Assassins

If I were GM I wouldn't. *lol* If I were GM (and I'm not) I'd have you both awaken imprisoned somewhere interesting and completely not Templar or Assassin related at all... like some sort of underground death match pit-fighting club that you'd have to escape!

DC:Earth-3

Tentatively Interested.

Medieval Assassins

*grins mischievously* Thresh and Caitlin never awaken... for Thresh forgot to reduce his notoriety, brought up by several public and indiscriminate killings in the hours previous, and the Templars descended upon him and any perceived allies. The End.

*Mwah hah hah hah hah hah hah*

-or maybe not. *grins*

(Edited for poor comma placement)

Medieval Assassins

That's why I'm laughing. I'm envisioning the scene. I also, I repeat, laughed. Hence the "*lol*"

It also reminds me of something you almost never ever see on television or movies, people going to the bathroom! Drinking that much is going to encourage quite a few trips to the ye olde closet.

Medieval Assassins

*lol* Clearly neither of you have gone drinking.

Ten bottles of water is impossible, let alone alcohol. That's probably enough spirits to kill either of you thrice over.

The other funny thing is, once you start drinking in places at $5 a glass, you find yourself wishing you were a light drunk.

Medieval Assassins

No worries. It's just happened a couple times already and I find it rather amusing.

Medieval Assassins

Morana had to wonder what the heck this girl was talking about. She only thought it strange that the girl wasn't interested in money. Her unsolicited protestations were decidedly odd. Morana continued to dance, considering her new companion's strange reaction.

"There's nothing more important than coin," Morana answered as she danced, anklets bouncing, metal hoops clinking to the rhythm, "Coin fills your belly, clothes you, puts a roof over your head and keeps you warm in the winter."

Morana pirouetted, crouching as she twirled before rising back up to her full height and clapped her hands over her head. She then kicked her legs, flashing the shaven limbs. Few women shaved their legs, relying on skirts or leggings to show off their shape without the hair showing. It was something mostly done by harlots.

(OOC: By the way, making your own lute strings would involve killing a lamb, pulling out its guts, cutting them into strips, drying them out and weaving them. It's quite bloody. Making a lute would require an entire workshop of woodworking tools and several different types of wood of, hopefully, fine quality. (ie. No warping, nor knots) It would cost as much money to get the tools and get started as to purchase a new lute)