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Post by Vyrrian Wren on Feb 6, 2011 21:56:42 GMT
Wren considered his options. If he was lucky, he could let fly with one of his throwing daggers in the direction of the Crown Princess and use his stilettos to take down the nearest of the guards. But he knew that would result in a drastic escalation of the stakes that would be impossible to recover from. And the odds were already firmly stacked against him. He had no clear idea as to his opponent's weaknesses, no physical or psychological flaw that he could exploit to his advantage. And the guards were well armed.
So what, then? Too many factors, too many unknowns. He hadn't known a deathtrap he couldn't extract himself from, but not without knowing every detail of it beforehand.
"You Winterians have curious notions when it comes to Morning Constitutionals... but I admit I've been somewhat lax in my exercise as of late. I could use a good workout."
"When you say 'hunt', do you mean that you will be my only pursuer? Or will you insist on sending your men to their deaths?"
He directed this last comment to the surrounding guards, looking each of them in the eye as he nonchanlantly twirled the stilletto in his hands with precise dexterity.
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Post by Daenary's Shar on Feb 6, 2011 22:22:45 GMT
*Her head tilted to the left ever so slightly almost as if she was indulging a brief notion in her mind as a very brief but cold smile traveled across her lips and even within her eyes before retreating to which ever place within her mind it had escaped from.* "I shall be your only pursuer though of course my men shall be dotted about the forests most of them only doing their normal daily tasks and have already been informed to leave you be as long as you leave them alone. Though should you kill or injure any of my men simply to prove that you can they have also been given other orders should such a act come from you." *Once she had spoken she turned her gaze to Aaron and gave him a faint nod before bringing her cool gaze back onto Leytan's companion. At the nod Aaron stepped away from the gathered and made his way rapidly in doors.*
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Post by Vyrrian Wren on Jul 9, 2011 1:01:53 GMT
Wren very much doubted the sincerity of her assurances - in fact, everything about this situation smacked of dealing with the previous night's faux pas in a way which could not be considered vindictive. He had to admire the Crown Princess in a way - a less nuanced person would have had him drown in a hail of crossbow quarrels and be done with it.
All right. He would give her precisely the sport she sought, and a damn sight more besides.
"Very well," he acquiesced. "If you insist on going through with this quaint little aperitif, I'm game. Should be just the thing for working up an appetite. Naturally, should I be fortunate enough to be the one who inflicts the killing blow, I trust there will be no unpleasant repercussions awaiting my return?"
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Post by Daenary's Shar on Jul 9, 2011 21:32:51 GMT
Daenary's stared down at him a moment a brief look of disdain crossing her eyes as the words fell from his lips and she inwardly sighed silently. Commoners were always able to either make light of a situation no matter how serious it was or even worse manage to oddly tarnish it with odd language that threatened upon possibly vulgar and multi layered. " Should which ever gods you follow...if any actually heeds any prayers you may decide to utter and you manage to land the theoretical killing blow then you shall be able to return here with no concerns to your physical nor mental safety. Though I do wonder if the latter one is already beyond saving now let alone later...as long as I return also. Should I not return then it shall be assumed that you actually killed me and your head shall be forfeit. "
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Post by Vyrrian Wren on Jul 9, 2011 21:51:42 GMT
"Mental safety", eh? Someone who doesn't suffer fools gladly. Possible streak of impatience? Potentially exploitable in a confrontation.
"Well, in that case, shall we get underway? I should be just about ready for breakfast by the time this little jolly is concluded. If I may, I'd like to take you up on that minute to inspect these weapons of yours."
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Post by Daenary's Shar on Jul 9, 2011 21:56:09 GMT
She glared at him momentarily before she slipped down from her horse and reached a hand to settle on the mane. "Your breakfast has already been served to you or have you already forgotten? Should I press a note to your coat to make sure you remember the rules of this challenge and browse as you wish though if you have not set off within two minutes I shall assume you lack the genuine desire to settle this matter and have it settled for you."
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Post by Vyrrian Wren on Jul 9, 2011 22:18:03 GMT
"Madam, by the time this little exercise in class warfare is concluded, I can assure you I will be needing a considerably greater repast than what was offered to me," said Wren, speaking as he took each of the weapons proffered to him in his hands. He briefly considered the heft and weight of the eclectic mix - a crossbow with half a dozen decidedly sharp bolts, a broadsword with a turquoise gem in its base, an iron morning star that shone in the morning's light - all immaculate and obviously crafted with great care and attention.
He held each one in turn, occasionally taking an experimental swing where appropriate. On each occasion he maintained eye contact with the weapon's respective attendant, an experience several of whom clearly found uncomfortable. And every time he replaced the weapon without a word, or indeed any emotion outside of calculated concentration. It was almost like witnessing an artisan inspecting a gallery of early Renaissance masterworks.
With the final weapon placed on its cushion - a pike with a particularly vicious looking barb - he nodded and turned back to the Crown Princess.
"Useless. I certainly hope you aren't outfitting your army with this meager collection of cutlery. Now, this-"
Wren's hand blurred and reappreared brandishing one of his twin Stilettos.
"-is a weapon. And believe me, it's the only one I will need."
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Post by Daenary's Shar on Jul 9, 2011 23:35:12 GMT
*She watched at him through herlong eyelashes rather than directly as she observed him appraising her weapon selection. She smied as he spoke and revealed the two weapons he had some how managed to keep hidden from the guards who had meant to make sure he had been disarmed.* "I shall take that as your chosen weapon then. I shall deal with those responsible later." *Her gaze some how had the ability to turn even cooler as her blue gaze swept over those that currently stood around her. Most found the slushy ground to be the place to look while some though managed to meet her gaze visibly paled.* " Now go, before I decide your head start shall be shortened or cut all together friend of Leytan."
*The air seemed to have suddenly grown icily colder and a few of those that stood the nearest to her pulled their cloaks tighter around themselves.*
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Post by Vyrrian Wren on Jul 10, 2011 19:49:58 GMT
Wren's eyes locked with Daenary's and held for a fraction of a second longer than was absolutely necessary. Then, without another word, he took flight towards the forest.
Well now, he thought silently as he sprinted across the snow, my life has certainly taken an interesting direction. Alone, ill-equipped save for what ever I grabbed from my bag on instinct, and running for my life through unknown territories while someone who really could have benefited from buying an emotion or two at a younger age hunts me down like a mongrel. So, what exactly is working in my favour here?
Well, I've worked out she gets pissed off VERY easily.
Hrm. Suddenly that doesn't seem to be the tactical advantage it was five minutes ago.
He urged his legs to run faster. A great deal faster. And as he ran, he started doing something he should have been doing ever since he embarked on this mad journey across the realm. He started to think.
And by the time he had reached the cluster of trees that spelled the entrance to the forest, he had the makings of a plan. Several plans, in fact.
It was time to show this humourless ice maiden just what it meant to toy with a Guild trained Assassin...
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Post by Daenary's Shar on Jul 10, 2011 22:20:48 GMT
Her cold gaze met his without flinching nor without any of the normal female nervousness that many women carried. There was no nervous or scared smile to form on her lips or a choked laugh. In fact there was nothing to be read at all. The icy exterior had been built upon over the years and she found the cold heartiness came as easily as breathing...even if....She dismissed that possible leak of emotion. Now was not the time for allowing any emotion to fuel her , he had already given her enough cause to be sure of his fate. ...though if he actually proved to be of actual worth rather than a mere fools errand yet to be revealed.
He is far too confident for one in these games especially when he does not even know the rules. The thought crossing her mind as his shadow seemed to fade from sight as he met the tree line. The trees took him into there home as easily it would appear as they did her.
She glanced down to the man servant nearest her. She reached down and carefully picked up the signature fabric. Her gaze lingering on the fine detail. I shall have the magical beast...I have the female bound to my brother by magic.
She slipped the binding garment surprisingly gently into the belt that hugged her form beneath the heavy cloak. The woman bonded to her brother by love or at least lust she was unsure how she could be useful. She wondered if Leytan could keep her in line.
Her gaze rose to the line of the forest once more as she silently reached her mental count and kicked the horse gently in the flanks before it kicked off with a spray of snow , muddied and slightly watery showered upon those around her.
I shall have him. The single thought weaving through the last of those calmer moments. Or destroy him...
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Post by Vyrrian Wren on Jul 12, 2011 13:00:43 GMT
First, he had to take the advantages they had over him and subvert them. Make use of them for himself. The obvious one was the environment. Snow. Footprints. An easy trail to follow.
Wren ran into the forest, making sure to take the most obvious path that would allow for greatest ease in navigation on horseback. Let them think he was panicked and afraid, only caring about putting as much distance between himself and his pursuers as possible. Dumb carrion whose slaughter was a matter of inevitability...
Then, stop. Step backwards, into the exact same footprints you just made. Turn off to the side, treading lightly. Kneel down to cover splintered tracks with snow. Repeat on the opposite side of the path, and slightly behind. Aaaaaaand... done.
This will give the ice queen something to think about, thought Wren. Let her try and find me with four different directions to choose from.
This resolved any threat posed from actually being pursued. But a direct confrontation straight off the bat seemed insufficient. It was time for a statement to be made about what happened when you sought to toy with the life of an Assassin.
This is going to be FUN, thought Wren as he slowly disappeared where he stood, setting off in directions unknown to all but him...
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Post by Daenary's Shar on Jul 12, 2011 20:43:26 GMT
The horses hooves struck the snow loudly despite the thickness of it's layer. Powdery snow rose in the air and fell in a rapid flurry , longer snow fell in large and heavy clumps after barely being kicked from the floor. In her wake a tell tail sign of mud and old leaves seeming to act as a bell around her neck.. She had not followed his tracks for too long. If he did take the time to observe her movements at all she seemed to come away from his tracks about twenty yards away from the forest line.
Her horse steadied with ease under her hand and she took a slow gander to a low laying cliff that was currently buried in snow making the cliff hidden from sight. It was also surrounded by a circle of trees which meant she was now hidden from sight unless by change he was beneath them. She jumped from her horse and left the beast there. She could hear the faint calls move through the woods as she made her way through the ancient walks ways to wards his left foot prints in her own time. She seemed to be in no rush to bring the hunt to a close at all. Her foot steps were surprisingly quiet and at ease through the narrow gaps, the bow at her back seeming to fold behind her as it did not catch a tree nor a leaf once.
She came to his singular path and frowned slightly. She had hoped he would make it harder than this and if he was unable to he would prove of little to no use for her at all. A almost warm smile fell upon her emotion less surprisingly when she found the cross roads of foot prints. She knelt down slightly and touched the snow gently with the barest tips of her fingers. Prodding the white ice as if she was touching crystal. If snow moved too easily she left the path and moved to the next. She then selected the second path to follow the snow seemed to be harder there more crushed and pressed together as if it had been traveled multiple times. Whether it was the right path or not, it was hers to take.
She walked in his larger foot steps with ease, his own walk way masking her own journey through the woods.
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Post by Vyrrian Wren on Aug 8, 2011 11:22:37 GMT
It was twenty minutes into the hunt when Wren happened across the first of the Crown Princess's men.
Peering from behind a gnarled old fir, he watched as the huntsman readied his crossbow and aimed at the peacefully grazing stag. He noted the slight waver in the bolts point. A sloppy technique, he thought. If such a harmless target presented him with trepidation, he struggled to think how he would fare against a target who actually possessed the inclination to end his life.
He considered leaving the bowman to his business, but he felt that a point needed to be proven to his pursuer. And that crossbow looked useful to him. A damn sight more useful at this moment to him than the casual target practice it was being used for...
With practiced stealth, Wren faded from sight and slowly inched towards the bowman, applying pressure to the tips of his feet to mask the snow's crunch. Several feet away, the bowman had regained confidence in his handling of the weapon and prepared to unleash his weapon's deadly payload.
"Say goodnight, laddo" he drawled, anticipating an easy kill.
"Goodnight, laddo," came a menacing voice from behind him.
"Wha-" he managed before the heavy pommel of the Assassin's dagger impacted with the back of his head. The bowman folded up silently, as though a puppet severed from his strings.
Wren slid off his glove and checked for signs of life. Breathing was present, as were his heart's pace. He estimated unconsciousness would last barely an hour. More than enough time for his pursuer to come across the fallen body.
Five minutes later, Wren was on his way again, leaving behind the prone bowman secured with hands restrained by an impromptu bind and his weapon liberated. As an afterthought, he acquired some fallen wood and had scratched the following message into it with charcoal:
KEEP UP, YOUR HIGHNESS
This should raise the stakes nicely thought Wren, anticipating the attention he would now get with a manic grin on his face.
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Post by Daenary's Shar on Aug 13, 2011 0:12:57 GMT
Daenary's moved slowly through the snow. She used the roots of the trees when she could which reached above the ground breaking the snow when she could. She listened to the woods closely.Listening to how the sounds changed around her. It was almost seven minutes after Leytans companion had fled the scene that Daenary's reached one of her foresters. The quiet of the woods having drawn her attention. Animals were hidden from sight and sound. She rolled the man over onto his back and made sure he was living and breathing. She freed the mans bound limps before reading Wren's message.
She mentally noted that the man had been disarmed and wondered why Leytan's companion was using up energy on men that would not harm him. He had changed the game a little now. Left himself open to attacks and cheating. She rose to her feet and let out a low whistle that rose in tone and seemed to be a echo of the bird calls further a field. Moments later she received three return notes and she moved on. Her forester would be taken home and would recover soon enough. He would struggle more when the other would tease him about being caught out.
She did not wait for any one to appear before moving on. The man may have taken a item and she wagered she knew which it was. Again he had changed the rules and she slipped a item or two he had missed into a pocket and a belt under her heavy cloak.
She did not speed up yet. She did not have to. She was going to let him tire himself out with those traveling through the woods. He had given her the perfect trail.
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Post by Vyrrian Wren on Sept 10, 2011 13:10:12 GMT
A straight line is the shortest distance between two people, Wren. If you are so intent on being caught, you may as well stand still and make it easier for the both of you.
His old Master's words fresh in his mind, Wren adjusted his direction and veered off at a right angle, and then again twenty seconds later. The forest was getting thicker now, the path more treacherous and more difficult to tread. He consoled himself with the knowledge that it would be presenting someone on horseback with no end of problems, giving him another advantage. In this current situation where he had so few, he was willing to take whatever he could gratefully.
He had slung the crossbow over his shoulder, where it periodically thumped against his back as though spurring him on. He was aware that his pursuer would not approve of liberating the weapon from its erstwhile owner, and he briefly considered the act a dangerous escalation of the stakes. But he brushed it from his mind, believing the Crown Princess naive indeed if she was to hope that he would follow the rules she had laid down to the letter. For one, he only had her word that he would live once this twisted game of hers had concluded, and that was of questionable worth at this moment.
Besides, he still couldn't shake the feeling that this was some kind of test, with some unknown criteria with which he was being judged. And if so, then slavish adherence to the rules of someone who would see him dead did not sound like something that would stand him in good stead. After all, what were rules but a means to keep in line those who were not strong enough to live by their own?
He ran several paces more, then veered off sharply to the left, ducking to avoid a particularly sharp outcropping of holly. The beginnings of a plan were formulating. All he needed were a few more unwary persons to liberate from...
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