Post by Tandar on Dec 9, 2009 19:45:25 GMT -5
Gregory Sykes. A traitor to practically every person he'd come in contact with. Killed his parents to pay of a debt. Sold his siblings into slavery to pay for another debt. He'd played it clean for many years, or at least he'd tried to. The man had managed to rise through the ranks in Araluen's increasingly faulty system; high enough to access valuable information. He'd been leaking it to other nations for quite a while now. He thought he was safe. He thought he was in the clear. He was wrong.
Mort had been following him for almost a week when he'd found what he wanted. It took longer than expected, Mort would admit, but it was worth the wait. It was late into the night, as it always was when Mort donned his robes and went to work. He'd trailed Sykes into the woods where--Mort was sure--he would be handing off more secrets to the enemies of his nation. Make no mistake, Mort harbored no love for Araluen, but Sykes was a traitor. The worst kind of scum one could find in this world.
A crack. Mort's gaze shot down. He'd lost his focus for just a moment and it may have cost him his target. A branch beneath his feet. Silently and swiftly he ducked behind a tree, a large root allowing him to keep one eye on Sykes who had, as Mort knew he would, turned around and was searching the darkness for whatever had made the noise.
"Is someone there?" he shouted, though Mort knew that the man wanted no answer, and so he would get none.
"Silence, you fool!" another voice said. His contact, no doubt. Mort saw them as they drew closer. Three men. They looked like locals. Sykes was only the beginning of a chain of treachery, then. There were others, no doubt. He knew what had to happen.
Sure that none of them were too focused on the mysterious noise now, he started scaling the tree he'd been using for cover, making his way through the branches to get closer to the men.
"I thought I heard something," Sykes said. "You can never be too careful in this business."
"Don't be ridiculous," a new voice said. "All these years and you think someone is onto us now?"
"Do you have the documents?" the first stranger asked. The leader. Good.
"Yes, yes. The money?" Sykes said, obviously more than uncomfortable with the situation. The man had good intuition. A shame he wasn't using it to flee from the scene of his impending demise.
Mort sat on a branch extending just over the edge of the small clearing in which the betrayers did business. He eyed Sykes and the other man as they exchanged packages. Time to act. Unlatching his maces from his belt, he leaped from the treetop, the impact of his maces connecting with the two men's skulls reverberating through his arms. They fell and died. Perfect. He eyed the two other men who seemed too stunned or frightened to move. They wouldn't get a chance. He swung around and launched his maces through the air, one connecting with a man's head and the other with the other man's left leg. They fell, one dead, the other crippled.
Mort stood and looked around. Three men dead, Sykes included. The one who he'd spared lay--moaning in pain--in the dirt. Reaching into a pouch, he pulled out the stamp and embedded the three-pronged symbol into the chests of the three dead men and into the hand of the living man. It was painful. The man screamed. It was necessary. He stood the man up and thrust a branch under his arm to steady him on his feet.
"Go to whatever sick scoundrel you take your orders from and tell him that you are not as safe as you think you are. We are here and we are watching. Now get out of my sight," he said quietly, but harshly. It had the desired effect. The man limped off through the forest as fast as his one good leg would take him. He would serve his purpose.
Mort turned back to the three bodies. All of them had to be found. Someone needed a trail to follow. Mort lifted the two bodies of the strangers by their collars and began dragging them through the woods. Sykes would be the last to be found. Mort dragged both bodies, both seeping blood onto the dirt as he walked between the trees, creating a clear path to follow to find Sykes. He left one at the edge of the woods and dropped the other near the gate to the castle that held those who governed Drayden.
He looked up and saw the guards on the wall above. He'd been seen. Perfect. He fled away from the small fortress, knowing he wouldn't be followed with three bodies and a trail of blood to investigate. The people would know what these men had done when they found the documents and the coins with Sykes's corpse.
They would know.
Mort had been following him for almost a week when he'd found what he wanted. It took longer than expected, Mort would admit, but it was worth the wait. It was late into the night, as it always was when Mort donned his robes and went to work. He'd trailed Sykes into the woods where--Mort was sure--he would be handing off more secrets to the enemies of his nation. Make no mistake, Mort harbored no love for Araluen, but Sykes was a traitor. The worst kind of scum one could find in this world.
A crack. Mort's gaze shot down. He'd lost his focus for just a moment and it may have cost him his target. A branch beneath his feet. Silently and swiftly he ducked behind a tree, a large root allowing him to keep one eye on Sykes who had, as Mort knew he would, turned around and was searching the darkness for whatever had made the noise.
"Is someone there?" he shouted, though Mort knew that the man wanted no answer, and so he would get none.
"Silence, you fool!" another voice said. His contact, no doubt. Mort saw them as they drew closer. Three men. They looked like locals. Sykes was only the beginning of a chain of treachery, then. There were others, no doubt. He knew what had to happen.
Sure that none of them were too focused on the mysterious noise now, he started scaling the tree he'd been using for cover, making his way through the branches to get closer to the men.
"I thought I heard something," Sykes said. "You can never be too careful in this business."
"Don't be ridiculous," a new voice said. "All these years and you think someone is onto us now?"
"Do you have the documents?" the first stranger asked. The leader. Good.
"Yes, yes. The money?" Sykes said, obviously more than uncomfortable with the situation. The man had good intuition. A shame he wasn't using it to flee from the scene of his impending demise.
Mort sat on a branch extending just over the edge of the small clearing in which the betrayers did business. He eyed Sykes and the other man as they exchanged packages. Time to act. Unlatching his maces from his belt, he leaped from the treetop, the impact of his maces connecting with the two men's skulls reverberating through his arms. They fell and died. Perfect. He eyed the two other men who seemed too stunned or frightened to move. They wouldn't get a chance. He swung around and launched his maces through the air, one connecting with a man's head and the other with the other man's left leg. They fell, one dead, the other crippled.
Mort stood and looked around. Three men dead, Sykes included. The one who he'd spared lay--moaning in pain--in the dirt. Reaching into a pouch, he pulled out the stamp and embedded the three-pronged symbol into the chests of the three dead men and into the hand of the living man. It was painful. The man screamed. It was necessary. He stood the man up and thrust a branch under his arm to steady him on his feet.
"Go to whatever sick scoundrel you take your orders from and tell him that you are not as safe as you think you are. We are here and we are watching. Now get out of my sight," he said quietly, but harshly. It had the desired effect. The man limped off through the forest as fast as his one good leg would take him. He would serve his purpose.
Mort turned back to the three bodies. All of them had to be found. Someone needed a trail to follow. Mort lifted the two bodies of the strangers by their collars and began dragging them through the woods. Sykes would be the last to be found. Mort dragged both bodies, both seeping blood onto the dirt as he walked between the trees, creating a clear path to follow to find Sykes. He left one at the edge of the woods and dropped the other near the gate to the castle that held those who governed Drayden.
He looked up and saw the guards on the wall above. He'd been seen. Perfect. He fled away from the small fortress, knowing he wouldn't be followed with three bodies and a trail of blood to investigate. The people would know what these men had done when they found the documents and the coins with Sykes's corpse.
They would know.