Thread: Life's Journey (The_Gladiator & darkangel76)

Less than a mile into the forest and they already want to stop. Stupid oafs. Shyra Lath could only glare as the over eager Grennen pulled their captive to the side. Much as a part of her wanted to, Shyra knew this one wasnt wholly pure, and therefore she really had no grounds to deny the big guy his fun. She gave a simple snap of her manicured fingers and instantly the others in the group came to varying levels of attention. Shyra gave a short gesture, no words were needed and Weasel went with Grennen. The little sneak would watch over the idiot, too stupid to control his urges until they had established a secure camp and perimeter, had he so soon forgotten the last few expeditions? How someone had robbed the Despurden guild of its prized slave hopefuls? Shyra sure as hell hadnt forgotten. After all that was the reason she was out in this god forsaken forest rather than in the upscale gambling halls owned by the Despurdens in Belbarren Major. Gone was her flowing dress slit up to her thigh and the red corset bodice that matched the color of her fiery hair. Instead she wore rough traveling clothes designed to help her blend into the forest. Her beautiful flowing red ringlets were swept up into a tight knot on the top of her head to keep it out of her face, with a hat pulled low to help hide the distinctive color. She hated this, hated this with a passion. However if one thing could be said about Shyra, aside from cruel, manipulative, and power hungry, was that she was loyal to the guild masters of the Despurden guild. They were a means to an end, yes, power, but she saw them as the best path to power she had available to her. Therefore, they were useful to her, and that in turn bought her loyalty. So why send her, one might ask? The answer to that, as many answers were, was as equally simple as complicated. She was available, loyal, intelligent, and a good leader. On the other hand, she was a lady, beautiful, cunning, and not on the surface suited to such a venture, she very much looked like she would be more comfortable in the gambling halls she was often to be found, running the place, flirting, seducing, and beguiling. So it took more than just the simple explanation that she was available and capable of handling the job that explained her presence. The Despurden guild had lost 5 prized slave hopefuls in as many months, as well as twice that many enforcers and agents sent to retrieve those hopefuls. Of those agents, only 2 of the bodies had been found. There was something very interesting about the bodies. Both had been killed in the same way, both had been taken with a single thrust directly to the heart. This was not distinctive in and of itself, however one of them had been poisoned through a dart wound in the neck, he surely had died from the poison, and yet he still had that very distinctive thrust to the chest. It was the mark of an assassin, a very specific assassin. An assassin with a particularly wicked dagger that when thrust directly into the center of the heart was guaranteed to take the life of his victim no matter who they were. The particular assassin in question only used that dagger when he wanted to be recognized. For example, when he was seeking to use fear of his reputation to make his target make a mistake, or when he was seeking to heighten his reputation. The Despurden guild did not know why Brandon the black Hearted was involved, or what his involvement was, or if indeed truly he was involved. Brandon had left his tenure at the Despurden Guild more than a year previously. Climbing from Shyras own bed in the middle of the night not to be seen in the city again. No one, especially Shyra knew his reasons for leaving, but she at least recognized and suspected it had concerned business rather than anything personal with her that had driven him away. After all, their relationship had been about sex, incredible sex of course, but still sex, right? Now the Despurden leadership had asked for someone to investigate Brandons potential involvement. Before she could be asked, Shyra had volunteered, for all knew hell hath no wrath like a woman scorned. Grennen dragged the lady Rhonwhyn off a little ways into the trees. Far enough away to be out of ear shot of the others. He wanted to make her scream, but knew Shyra, that buzz kill, would make him stop. There wasnt no one gonna hear them this far out from the village, there werent nothing but miles of forest surrounding them, or so he thought. Two sets of eyes watched the half-ogre, as he began to bend her slowly over a log, taking his time about it, slowly, almost giggling to himself at her discomfort. His hand slid down her back towards her upraised bottom. Both sets of eyes looked away from the sight as they cased the area. The cold gray eyes knew what they sought, while the brown ones were flicking around rapidly, trying to pierce the inky darkness trying to do as Shyra had commanded and protect the half-ogre from any potential threat. Five against 1 were long odds, even for someone as skilled as Taurean, however they had divided themselves. Divided themselves without his prodding no less, and suddenly he was faced with two against one, and one of those two was distracted. Taurean knew what Grennen intended to do to the girl, after all the brute was not leaving much to her imagination, telling her in agonizing detail what he would do to her. Taurean didnt even think that the lunkhead even knew that many words let alone how to weave them together in such a vivid picture. The weasel on the other hand, was much more of a threat. He was good, sly, illusive, well-trained, and would not be easy to kill, especially not in the time he had available to him. Shyra had done her homework and had picked one of the best for her team. He knew that The Weasel and Chron, the bald human enforcer had been her choices for the team and that Grennen had chosen his half-orc sidekick to go with them. Taurean considered his options and decided that his best option was to incapacitate The Weasel. He moved on silent feet, slipping closer, and hand cross-bow in hand. His night vision gave him a distinctive advantage over his opponent and he used that and every ounce of his training to sneak up close enough to the man crouched in the tree. There was one shot, a single click almost inaudible but very distinctive. The weasel jerked his head up at the familiar sound inadvertently making it even more assured that the dart would take him in the neck. The Drow sleep poison worked quickly, and seconds later, the small human was out, sliding slowly out of his tree to hit the ground with an audible thud. Taurean cursed inwardly, hoping that Grennen hadnt heard the unintentional noises, but suspecting that although dense, and engrossed in his soon to come pleasure, he was likely neither that dense or oblivious. Tensing the half-elf waited and watched almost holding his breath waiting for the half-ogres reaction if any.