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Silence. Silence reigned during the Coruscant night, outside of the building that the Sith Assassins had holed up in. But that would not last.
Overlooking the home, a figure studied it. They were clad in form-fitting black armor, with a hood pulled up over their head. Behind them, several other figures knelt, waiting for their leader to give them the go-ahead.
The lead figure gave the signal, and the others took a moment to hide their Force Auras before taking off, leaping from building to building, running along the rooftops. One came across a Sith guard on one of the roofs. The guard was unaware of the small army coming his way, and his only indication was the small durasteel needle that pierced his neck, covered in a deadly poison that killed him in seconds.
The figures came to the nearest building to their target, but found themselves facing a large gap.
One of them took a bow off of her back, and nocked an arrow. She let the arrow fly, and it hit the side of the building with a small thunk. The arrow was fitted with a length of cable, and the figures used it to cross the gap, sliding across the cable.
They landed on the roof of their target, and found a window. They pried it open with their short blades, and began dropping into the hallways.
Lord Ajihad, the Demon's Fist, sat within his quarters meditating. After being cast into the Netherworld, he didn't sleep much. He shuddered, remembering that horrid place. He had taken his own life to avoid capture at the hands of the Mandalorians, and was thrown into the very pits of hell themselves. He had escaped, but not without paying a price. A price paid in blood.
He was pulled out of his stupor when his com link beeped, signaling someone wished to speak with him. He answered the call to find none other than Captain Nexu, head of his personal military force, on the other end. "Hello sir, just wanted to check up on you."
He had positioned a small host of men outside his quarters, and in the area surrounding the assassins' temporary headquarters. They were not officially on guard duty. In fact, only two were in uniform, and they were guarding his door. The rest were dressed as civilians, casually watching from the surrounding city. He wouldn't have taken these measures, but as of late, there had been many a betrayal. One never knew who to trust these days.
"I'm fine Captain, why do you ask?" Vi'kas said this with a slight hint of irritation in his voice. He hated being disturbed during his meditations.
"It's nothing, sir. I just thought I saw a few shadows on a nearby roof. That's all."
The young assassin raised his eyebrows at this. Some might say he was the slightest bit paranoid. Perhaps it was from his time spent as a Spy, perhaps it was not. Either way, this statement struck his interest. Partially because of his paranoia, partially because it was rare to see a shadow on a roof in the dead of night...
"Tell your men to stay vigilant, Captain. Keep your guard up. I'm going in for a look around, it's probably nothing, but it's worth a look." With those words he turned off his com link, and geared up. He never went into a situation without his gear, no matter how little the danger was. He walked out the door, and into the dark hallway in front of him...
Xavka's body moved effortlessly and swiftly around his room, hands and legs stretching and coiling. Before him was a single candle, illuminating his bare torso and turning the scars that wound their way up the right side of his body into shadowy canyons. His black Jat'i wound around his upper body before disappearing into his trouser to continue down so as to cover the whole of his body. Slowly he wound down, bringing the Tehrende to a close. Slowing his breathing Xavka considered what he had seen during his dance.
Something was going to happen soon. He didn't know what or when, all he knew that it would and he didn't like that. He was someone who preferred action would always be to act not to sit around waiting. Sure, he could do so, but he hated it. However, he didn't really have a choice. He would have to wait. But that didn't mean he had to be unprepared.
Turning sharply, he scooped up his jacket and pulled it on, fastening it up to his chin. He then wrapped his chain whip around his waist and strapped the pouch containing his Senbon Needles and Emeici to his right thigh. That done he lowered himself so that he sat in seiza before the flame and began to meditate. He would wait however long, but he would not be unprepared.
[member="Lord Ajihad"] | [member="Nox"]
Translation:
Jat'i = Personal, ritualistic tattoos. They tend to be on the torso. Tehrende = Dance, Earth Movement
Unlike an apparent multitude of others, Darth Ophidia was asleep. She lay flat on a bed under a thin blanket. Her beskar armour was tucked away next to the wall, her shell spider silk robes lay folded on a chair with her lightsabre tucked in between the folds. Her blaster lay on the table, and a knife under her pillow. She had come back from a mission just earlier that evening, and was getting her first night of supposed rest. Yet, she was far from restful. The bed was too soft for her, and the room was just wrong. Perhaps she had spent to long sleeping in her ship, or in the guest rooms of Sith Academies. One of her later missions had included sleeping in a tree by tying branches together with wire, even that seemed preferable at the moment. Perhaps it was the sensation of the city outside that robbed her of rest? Coruscant was a planet that never slept and she had always been a light sleeper, easily roused by noise, light or simply by an unexplained presence.
Still awake despite the gloomy night outside, Avreet’s senses had yet to be dulled by tiredness as he fought against this hidden enemy by sipping his favourite black tea. The small office he had seated himself in was terribly quiet, further indicating it was time for all to go to sleep and rest. Lights above the Sith’s large domed head projected no illumination, unlike a small lamp sitting on a table right in front of him. A proper Sith never rests though, and instead of going out and enjoying himself at one of the many parties that silently raged in the bowels of Coruscant, the Mon Calamari had opted to read through some reports and study recent information regarding their Jedi rivals. A fairly dull and boring activity, but a good source of information if one knew what to look for, spicy bits that often found their use when he stood against Jedi. Avreet’s eyes eagerly ate away the words staring right back at him. Without even lifting his gaze from the materials, the Mon Cal reached for a cup that sat on the desk. Much to Veles’ unpleasant surprise, it was empty before he could take another sip. Sighing, he placed the cup down, unwillingly, and continued reading with somewhat deteriorating mood. Maybe it was time to let work rest and go to sleep. His beloved Grima wasn’t on the planet though, making this night completely uneventful. What a shame.
Night. Perhaps finally, this would be the night he could sleep. Darth Ferus, leader of the Sith Assassins, never slept. Since his return to the Dark Side, sleep no longer worked for him. Not that this made him tired or weak, but he never had the ability to enjoy it's comfort. Time seemed to double for him, but it did allow him to do projects in half the time. This night however was not a time for him to build a new weapon or forge new armor. Instead, he wanted to talk to [member="Darth Veles"] . He knew the Mon Cal from many different places, the most important being the Phoenix. It was a group against the Sith once upon a time, and Ferus knew Veles was once a leader.
Silently as one could expect from an Assassin the human stepped into the room, a cup filled withed with the drink of choice for the fish. He set it down as gently as he could before moving to sit across from Veles, sitting down with a slight groan.
"Long nights are pretty boring. I'm surprised you're not out partying. Got something interesting?"
The dark of night cast its shadow over the vacation home of Xander Blackmoore, King of the Induparan Monarchy, Sith Knight, Darth Vizios, the White Assassin. Night was the time he played, and mostly with his lover [member="Sitara Qin"], provided she was not running around on a task for the assassins, or he was. Xander was wide awake, laying on his back, his bare chest exposed to the night air. His mind was focused on all the assassin housed in his vacation home. They had survived an attack from the Jedi, and were working on a home, but for now it was Xander's. For whatever reason, he couldn't shake the feeling more trouble was to come, and so it made him restless.
He finally got out of bed, and looked out his window. There was nothing to be seen as his room was the opposite end of the house than where the attack had come from. The night was quiet, but Xander was not at ease. He needed something to drink. Reaching for his robe, Xander walked the hallway to his study where there was a whet bar. Pouring himself a glass of fine Induparan Brandy, Xander let the scent waft to his nose before taking a drink.
Nox was doing what she usually did: fiddling with a bit of technology. This time it was a thermal detonator, and she was careful not to set it off. She was curious, but still didn't wish to die.
The girl sighed as she swiped at her brow, her day beginning to wear on her. But she continued her study, unaware of the mess she had dragged the Assassins into.
The Hands of the Shadow moved quietly through the halls, weapons held tightly in their hands. They had a mission, and they would succeed, or die trying.
Four took up positions outside the office that contained [member="Darth Ferus"] and [member="Darth Veles"], and after a moment, threw the door open, the contraptions on their wrists shooting out a small bolt.
One approached the sleeping form of [member="Darth Ophidia"], raising the sword above her, ready to plunge it into the body of the Rattatakki.
Two watched [member="Xander Blackmoore"], their weapons ready. They sprung into action, attacking with their strange weapons: sharp darts on the ends of lengths of chain.
Another took up a position outside of [member="Xavka Duquo"]'s room, and burst in, swiping her gauntlets with blades on the end.
Two stood at the end of [member="Lord Ajihad"]'s hall, blades in hand, laying in wait for their chance.
The one-eyed Sith crept silently down the hall, Dathomiri energy bow in hand. His cybernetic eyes went into night vision mode. As he scanned the hall, he saw two figures standing at the end of the corridor. He frowned beneath his balaclava, as they were not of the Sith Assassins. They were not dressed the way the assassins dressed, and they bore a marking that didn't belong to the Sith. It seemed they did not know he could see in the dark, so he played along with it. He continued to move down the hall, pretending to still be searching for intruders.
Therefore, when one of them whipped a throwing knife at the Demon's Fist, he caught it by the handle in midair, only inches from his face. Before either of them could react, he sent it back at them, sinking it into the throat of the first assassin. As the would-be assailant thrashed on the ground, blood pouring from their throat, the other intruder charged Vi'kas. As the assassin stabbed down with their blade, the young Sith caught them by the wrist. He dug his thumb into a pressure point behind the hand, and they yelped in pain, dropping the knife. He caught it with his other hand, and attempted to stab his opponent. However, before he got a chance, the opposing assassin elbowed him right in the mouth. He stumbled back, tasting blood. As the attacker followed up with a roundhouse kick, Vi'kas caught their foot in his free hand. Before the mysterious figure could strike back, the one-eyed Sith used the knife to slice the attacker's achilles tendons. The assassin screamed, and hit the ground hard. Ajihad was on them like a wraith. He wrapped his legs around their torso, and used his arm to put them into a sleeper hold. The assailant tried to escape, but the Sith's grip was too strong. After a minute, the assassin stopped kicking.
His Marines arrived a second later, rifles pointed at the unconscious figure before them. Vi'kas checked for a pulse, and was satisfied to see that the intruder was alive. He pulled of their mask, and was surprised to see a young woman with blonde hair beneath the mask. He stood up, and turned to his guards. "Cuff her, and use the CarbonTrap in my quarters to freeze her for later."
"Yes Sir!"
Vi'kas walked over, and ensured the second attacker was dead. He was. The Demon's Fist ran over to the alarm, and pulled it. The alarm sounded, and the young assassin sprinted down the hall with unnatural speed towards the nearest room, hoping to help whomever he could.
Everything was peaceful, quiet, she was getting the rest she much needed. Then alarms went off in her head, the force roused her from her sleep with a promise of danger. She lay perfectly still, only tell of her waking was a small deviation in her breath as her mental alarms went off. Her eyes opened just enough for her to see through her eyelashes. Steel glinted over her and normally this would make her fairly excited, however, tonight she was simply not in the mood to play around. Her annoyance became anger, which seeped out of her every pore as she let it fuel her affinity with the dark side of the Force. Then subtly the fingers of her left hand made a wave motion as she attempted to plunge a tendril of her consciousness into the assassin's mind, and taking over. It was a skill she was growing rather apt in, using it often in her work.
If she gained entrance in the mind, then she would quickly order the Assassin to cease and back away. If she gained some entrance, but he resisted, then she would continue to squeeze his mind like a large serpent squeezes its' prey until she gained entrance or until the mind shattered. In either case, the Assassin would in all likelihood not be able to stab her right away unless it had much practice in the art of Mentalism.
Xavka's eyes flickered beneath his closed eyelids as he felt an unknown presence approach. It seemed that his vision was coming in event already, the Assassins were being invaded by an unknown force, one also equipped for assassination. Spreading out his sensing, Xavka encountered nine other unknowns within the Assassin's Curoscant base. Four were heading towards where sensed Ferus and one other were, one other was closing in on Ophidia's position while the remaining four where arriving near two of his fellow Assassins, two a piece. Meanwhile the final unknown, the one targeting him had reached the door to his room. Slowly he withdrew one of his Emeici and slipped it onto his right hand while he withdrew one of his Deer Horn Knives from its sheath and grasped it in his left had. A quick breath later and the quarters were plunged into darkness and Xavka was clinging to the ceiling above the door, eye's closed.
His door flung open and a feminine figure, fully clad in black and dark grey clothing that only left the eyes exposed, leapt into the room, one hand outstretched. On her hands were gauntlets that had three blades extending from the knuckles. Xavka recognised them from his time as a mercenary. Cat claws.
He delighted in her confusion as she encountered an empty room only, no sign of her target anywhere. Mentally he sighed in frustration. 'Tze ku sin veiss ul.'* Silently, in a way born from endless practice, Xavka dropped down behind his attacker and slammed the door shut, plunging the room into darkness, while at the same time he drove his Emeici into the back of her left ankle and swept the weapon to the right, severing the tendon. Attack done he retreated into the darkness to start his next attack, grateful that his eyesight, as a Zabrak, wasn't hindered by the limited light streaming in through cracks in the door.
He watched, emotionless, as she swung her weapons wildly, trying to hit a target she could neither see or hear. Slowly, making sure not to make a sound, he crawled up the wall and onto the ceiling until he was, once again, positioned above his prey, ready to strike. Releasing his grip, he dropped to the ground in front of her in a crouch, planning on driving either his Dagger or Emeici into her torso. However he must of made some noise as her clawed weapons swung at his head. Xavka blocked one strike with his Dagger while he lifted his legs and allowed gravity to pull him down, under the second attack. Disengaging his block, he swung the Dagger around and opened a gash on his target's stomach before retreating.
Crouched in the corner, Xavka placed his weapons on the ground before unravelling the Chain Whip wrapped around his waist, taking care not to let the links emit any noise. Coiling it in his left hand, while holding the handle in his right, Xavka rocked the weighted dart that tipped the weapon back and forth, letting it gain momentum. Finally he released the coiled chain when he threw the dart, sending it to impact the centre of his targets forehead.
Hearing the sound, the woman managed to dodge the dart, letting it fly past her head. Snarling slightly Xavka wrapped the chain around his right hand a few times, shortening it enough that it could be used. Immediately after he released a fury of attacks until the dart eventually drove itself into her chest, crushing it and killing her instantly. Replacing his weapons, bar the whip, Xavka ran out of the room, just in front of [member="Lord Ajihad"].
"You're awfully quiet, though. I suspect that'll change soo-." Ferus, back to the doorway, cut off as the door was kicked open wide. He had felt the attack coming then, and a wash of black flame would take over his form. The bolts coming to his form would shift as they got close, a mixture of the Force and the heat sending them to the sides around him. Naturally though, they still cut across his skin. Red blood seeped out of the cuts as he frowned, still looking at [member="Darth Veles"] .
Without a word and still without turning the Force would react to his will. The four assassins, the amount he could sense at the moment, would find themselves suddenly lifted into the air by their throats. Weapons clattered to the floor as this Sith Master showed why he was called such. A single hand finally raised as he turned, golden eyes alight with hate for those who would dare attack him.
The only noise around him would be the sound of their choking, but a quick close of his fist and sound would be cut of by a loud sickening crack. That was when the alarms kicked in. A sigh escaped the lips of the Assassin as he looked over to his fishy friend, offering a shrug.
One amber eye swivelled towards the man who had entered, the only sound revealing him being the hiss of the door as it opened and let the Sith Lord in. The amphibious assassin paid him no mind for the moment, his large eye soon moved back towards the text and continued reading whatever information the reports offered. The second Sith Lord moved around soundlessly as a shadow, walking past the Mon Cal and seating himself opposite. It wasn’t until Ferus set the cup down and asked his question that Avreet finally lifted his gaze and focused on the man, his stare piercing the man as Veles thought whether Ferus was being serious or not with that comment about partying. Truth to be told, the amphibious Sith rarely indulged to such activities, however enjoyable they were. Usually avoiding alcohol as he got drunk very fast, the Mon Cal could not properly appreciate parties. That is not to say he disliked a drink or two – he simply preferred his mind and judgement clear, as Dark Jedi assassins and Jedi Shadows always sought to catch a Sith off guard and score an easy kill.
“Thank you, lord Ferus,” the amphibian said as his eyes spotted the dark liquid within the cup, immediately recognizing tea, “There’s always something interesting – one only has to find it in the sheer amount of information. For example, take this…,”
The door hissed in opening again and stopped the Sith mid-sentence, his eye repeating the motion again as it frowned and moved to gaze at the newest being to enter the room. The Force spoke of no danger, surprisingly enough, as the signatures of their assailants were hidden, and therefore Avreet actually found himself both surprised and very glad for not being hopelessly drunk at some party. The first bolt whizzed right past the Mon Cal, impacting the cup of tea and shattering it, sending the liquid splashing all over the table. What a shame! Immediately launching himself off the chair, raising his webbed hand as he did so due to not having enough time to ignite his lightsaber, Darth Veles caught one more blaster bolt headed his way into his cybernetic hand. The shot burned through synthetic flesh, but the cybernetic skelet underneath safely stopped the bolt. The Mon Calamari made no comment; a superheated blade of pure energy sprang to life with an all too familiar snap-hiss in his left hand.
The bold move of the assassins to attack true Sith would not go unpunished, though Avreet wished to take as many of them alive as possible. For interrogation, of course, possible as unwilling agents or test subjects later. Unfortunately, two Sith Lords in one room spelled two different opinions, therefore the four assassins soon lied dead by Ferus' display of power. Avreet's blade extinguished, the Mon Cal turned to his fellow Sith and shook his large domed head.
"Maybe a bit more... tempered reaction could be called for next time? They will not talk if they're dead," he pointed out as politely as he managed, somewhat disappointed, then shrugged in defeat.
"Let's go. There's probably more of them. Please, lord Ferus, try not to kill them all."
Before doing anything else though, the amphibious Sith crouched next to one of the bodies and inspected it. Those didn't look like Jedi. Not even Dark Jedi. Maybe. Given the massive number of Dark Jedi cults, one found it impossible to keep tracks of all.
"If there's anything I've learned in my time, those who fail as miserably as these would be Assassins did do not know a thing. They're tests, used by only ruthless Assassin groups to gauge the strength of their adversaries. Pawns. You will get those who do not die easily alive, for it's those who are far better trained who will know more." That, and by killing them all himself he made sure what ever talents [member="Darth Veles"] would be hidden. For now. Standing up himself he would activate one of the only two weapons on his form. The golden flat bladed lightsaber. The other weapon was of course the hidden blade, signature to any within the Sith Assassins.
Moving over beside the Fish, War would look down to the body with a frown, before looking up to make sure they were indeed alone. "Anything similar to any of the known Assassin groups out there? Sith Assassin of old, the merc groups, maybe a letter of promised payment they were never meant to get?" In truth the Iridonian expected these to be simple hitman sent to claim what ever bounty he may have earned for himself, though to his knowledge there wasn't a single one put on his head. He would rack his mind for a moment or two, trying to solve the mystery this all was.
The force warned Xander of an impending attack. His lightsabers were not on his person currently, though they were close. He did not need them however. Xander was the Aspect of Conquest after all, the White Assassin, skilled in the art of killing with the force. A force barrier was thrown up allowing the chained daggers to collide with it inches from his hear that throat. Had they been successful the attackers would have certainly ended his life. Instead it was time for theirs to end.
A wave of force energy was sent through the material substance of the blades, ans Xander reduced them to dust. Speeding ahead of them, enhanced by the force, Xander focused on their aura until he located their beating hearts. With another wave of force energy he stopped them from beating, causing them to enter cardiac arrest. The assassins fell to the ground where they had just been standing.
Quickly the monarch dressed in his bathrobe, and sent a message to [member="Sitara Qin"] that his vacation home had been compromised and to either proceed to the safe house, or to assist them if she were able. Lightsabers were attached to his belt. While the force was a great ally, his blades were even more so. This had to have been a simple scouting party. If they did not return more could be expected. Xander searched out [member="Darth Ferus"].
After he found him, Xander interrupted the conversation. "I am assuming that was a scouting party. We must take to the passages ways before more come. They will think we have left, and the element of surprise will be ours."
The bodies had nothing interesting in their possession, no clue that would point towards their origin. Their coordination and equipment certainly suggested these belonged to a well-funded organization. These were no ordinary thugs, their Force sensitivity and ability to mask their signatures either meant a new branch of Sith different from Assassins or a whole new cult. Either way, they have certainly been capable of recruiting Force users – what remained to be discovered was whether the men and women in this group have been found inside of the One Sith space or outside. This attack meant they felt powerful enough to take out the Sith Assassins, or perhaps just to test their strength and scout the area before launching something bigger? So many questions and possibilities, yet not enough answers and clues. Avreet’s investigation had to wait; he wished to capture some of them alive, regardless of what Ferus said. Strong or weak, if captured, all had their use and Avreet had little wish of wasting this potential resource.
Briefly studying the contraption on one’s wrist before moving to inspect their short blades and poisoned needles and other equipment that would have looked archaic if not for their modern design that positively marked this group as professionals and also completely scratched any theory regarding the Jedi Shadows and their darker Silver Jedi counterparts. That was a start, at least, not having to bother with these eliminated possibilities.
“Nothing that I know of, no. Given their lack of Jedi Shadow robes or armour, plus their use of blasters and poison instead of lightsabers, we can safely say these are not from any Jedi assassin group we know of. Not to mention,” the amphibious Sith Lord smirked, crimson spark dancing in his cybernetic eye, “Our Jedi friends lack resources to waste Force sensitives like this.”
Getting up and sighing, sparing not even a glance towards the bodies lying at their feet, the Mon Cal remained silent in thought for a second before speaking again.
“That is not to say it couldn't have been orchestrated by our Jedi enemies. They are not above sending others to do their dirty work.”
Curiously enough, the Mon Calamari had managed to retain his elegant strides even when stepping over the corpses, quickly slipping out of the office and scanning the hallway outside with his excellent eyesight combined with various vision modes within the cybernetic orb of his. He spotted nobody hiding themselves under a cloaking power or device with the same effect; yet the strange atmosphere remained present still. The assassins sent to attack the Sith lacked the experience and training of more powerful Sith and now that Veles knew of their threat, he believed sensing them to be possible. The Force, after he reached through its veil and spied on all lifeforms swimming in the vast ocean of energy, truly revealed more or less hidden signatures moving inside the building.
“We should regroup with other Sith and purge any who stand in our way,” he offered his idea and moved through the dark hallway towards the stairs, not foolish enough to try the turbolift. Silent footsteps natural to any assassin carried him through shadow and his quick and determined pace almost made the Sith look like he floated given the effortless yet powerful pacing. His curved lightsabers still waited to eat flesh, mind still hungry for answers.
As he ran through the dark halls, he was surprised as another figure exited a doorway. He drew back his Dathomiri bow, aiming an arrow right in between the figure's eyes. However, as he got a better look at the face, he realized it was just [member="Xavka Duquo"] . He lowered his weapon, and spoke, "We've been infiltrated, if you haven't discovered that already. I'm heading through the halls, trying to gather up everyone I can.I suggest you do the same." Without another word, he continued to sprint through the halls.
Soon enough, he arrived at [member="Darth Veles"] 's quarters, only to find a heap of dead assassins in the middle of it. He was surprised to see [member="Darth Ferus"] and [member="Xander Blackmoore"] there as well, along with the Mon Cal Sith. He took a second to catch his breath, then spoke quickly and briefly. "So, it seems we've been discovered. Have any ideas on who these amateurs are?"
Xavka reared his hand back at the man who had raised a bow in his face, preparing to use his whip again, only to lower his weapon at the same time as said man when he recognised him as [member="Lord Ajihad"]. He leant to the side to let his fellow assassin pass after Ajihad had given him the, rather unnecessary, update. He made to go follow the bow-wielding assassin, but stopped as a thought occurred to him. Retreating back into his quarters, Xavka bent over the body of his failed assailant and began a quick assessment after removing her Cat Claws. The armour was light and mainly comprised of reinforced cloth, not much metal armouring, meaning that while the clothing would offer resistance to attacks, it would not be able to handle lightsabers and attacks with power behind him. The one emblem that the woman wore, what looked to be four wavy lines intersecting in such a way that the ends formed the points of a compass with what looked to be a fanged mouth in the centre, was not one he recognised.
Turning his attention to the weapons he held, he lifted them to his nose before sniffing. Although the smell was barely the, Xavka's enhanced senses picked up a slightly bitter smell, one he did not recognise but could guess that it was the smell of a poison. Humming, Xavka studied the gauntlets before shrugging and dropping them onto the corpse. Although they seemed to be useful, they would only hinder him in the end, compromising his fighting style.
Analysis done, Xavka turned his back on the cooling body of the failed assailant and began to calmly meander towards where he could sense the presences of his fellow Sith Assassins gathering. A feral grin was slowly growing on his face as anticipation for the oncoming challenged grew, he would enjoy this. As he walked his dart-tipped whip trailed behind him slightly, metallic clicks ringing out as the links knocked against each other.
[member="Darth Ophidia"]'s assassin stiffened as he felt something probing his mind. It commanded him to step back, to put down the weapon. He struggled against it, fought to secure control of his own mind and body, but knew it was useless. He had clear instructions on what to do if his mind was attacked, and now it was time to fulfill them. He bit down on one of his teeth, the compartment inside opening to flood his mouth with poison. It acted quickly, and his corpse dropped to the ground, plunging the room into silence.
Light take them! The first wave had failed. Of course, she had expected that, but it was still dissapointing. The leader raised a hand, and more assassins poured into the building, silently running through the halls.
Eventually, they found the place where the infidels had gathered, and took up positions.
After a moment, one of them knocked an arrow to her bow, and sent it at [member="Lord Ajihad"]. The fourteen others lept out of hiding, a single cry coming from their throats: "For the Shadow!"
Blades, rope darts, bladed gauntlets, poisoned needles, all were brandished as they attacked. These were not the Initiates of the first wave. No, these were Blades, tempered by hardship and death, and it showed in their skill and discipline. This would not be an easy fight.
Meanwhile, the leader grunted as she began her own hunt. She had a heretic to punish.
Just as the Demon's Fist finished speaking, he heard a sound. This was the sound of a drawstring being pulled back, and an arrow being placed on the string. As heard the whistling sound of an arrow being fired, he spun around and caught it. He always had insane reactions, between the force and his previous life experiences. As the assailant leapt at him, he stabbed her through the eye with her own arrow. He backed up further into the room, standing in front of his fellow assassins. If one of them were to die, it'd probably be him, given his position. He quickly counted fourteen living assassins. He loosed an energy arrow, and heard a thud as a corpse hit the floor. "Thirteen," he mumbled as he prepared to defend himself.
