TENDRA VS KYSANDRA
A company of adventurers were staying at the inn this evening.
Kysandra melded into the shadows at the back of the tavern, sipping at her
foaming mug of ale. She detested the intrepid fools, adventurers. It seemed
they were always out to ruin her business. The company was gathered around
a well worn oaken table that had seen it's share of ale spills. They toasted
and sang, shouted and told stories. It was all too annoying for the assassin.
This would be her last ale, and then she would move on the the next tavern,
looking for more work.
The leader was a square bearded, sturdy looking young man.
Gold gleamed and winked in the firelight at his ears and his throat, upon
his fingers, and at his belt. Next to him sat an elf, a longbow resting
easily at his side. There was also a dwarf, considerably rare in these parts
of Vastonia, for the Goblin Wars had almost left the race completely extinct.
A mage sat at the table with them, but he seemed more intent upon observing
the people in the tavern than telling over exaggerated tales. For a moment
he locked eyes with Kysandra, and that was when she decided it was time
to leave. She would rather leave alive this evening, rather than full of
arrows and daggers.
Gathering her dark cloak around her, the assassin checked
all of her possessions, to make sure she had not been thieved from. Everything
there, she rose up, and headed towards the door, when someone crashed into
her. Kysandra fell on the wooden floor with considerable force as ale spilled
all over her chest, totally soaking her. She cursed under her breath as
she rung her shirt out. Standing and drawing a dagger, she looked at the
dolt who had crashed into her. It was a young, lean girl of no more than
twenty years. Surveying the area quickly, Kysandra noted there had been
plenty of walk room, and found it highly unlikely the collision was an accident.
Holding the gleaming blade of the dagger to the girls throat, she spoke
coarsely, "Mind your way, bitch, or someone will find you cut up and dry
in the morning."
The girl seemed not to take this as a threat, for reasons
unknown to Kysandra. "Is everything all right, Tendra?" spoke the voice
of the leader of adventurers, his eyes firmly fixed upon Kysandra. "Just
fine," she returned. "It seems this... assassin... owes me an apology."
The assassin cursed, realizing the girl was with the adventurers. She sheathed
her dagger, not wanting to wind up dead, and started for the door once again,
not bothering to answer the girl. The rattling chain of a flail was all
she needed to turn her around. She spun around swiftly, and had a dagger
in each hand before Tendra could even think of making an attack. "Jumpy,
are we? Tendra spoke mockingly as she tightly gripped a large flail. The
dwarf started to unbuckle his battle axe, but the leader of the company
stopped him. "This is their fight, let them fight it." Tendra twirled the
flail in the air, mocking her opponent with her laid back stance. The assassin
stood there too, waiting for the attack to come. When it did, she was fully
prepared. The flail sailed through the air, on target with Kysandra's head.
The assassin deftly dodged to the side as the heavier flail
crushed a table in place of her. The innkeeper shook his head, and put his
face in his hands. He knew it was all to dangerous to intervene in fights
such as these. Tendra struggled for a moment to pry the flail from the broken,
twisted boards of the table. Any advantage the assassin could take, she
did, not giving a damn about honor. She hurled her dagger at the back of
the girl, hoping for a killing blow. To her ultimate dismay, the blade slowed
down, and finally fell on the ground. The assassin looked back, and the
mage winked at her. Cursing had seemed to become a part of her day, so she
did it again. The interruption nearly killer her, for Tendra swung the flail
at Kysandra when she looked to the mage. Ducking the overpowerful swing,
she caught Tendra off balance.
Using the dagger's hilt to ensure a solid blow, the assassin
connected her fist with the bitches jaw, sending an arch of blood through
the air. A few of the commoners, intently watching the battle, ooed and
awed at the sheer power and skill that was displayed in the punch. Tendra
caught her balance quickly, and even though her head ached, went for another
attack. The flail sailed through the air once more, this time with less
power and more accuracy. The assassin had to put her hand on a nearby table
to support herself, and to avoid the flail turning her head into a bloody
pudding. Unfortunately, the flail struck hard on the table directly where
she placed her hand. The spiked iron ball at the end of a chain on a pole
gains a lot of momentum when being swung, even if little power is put into
it. The weapon turned every bone in Kysandra's hand into pulp. Blood splattered
across the table, and when the assassin went to pull her hand away from
the weapon, which was now imbedded in the table, it tore the assassins hand
off at the wrist.
Dark red blood sprayed from the severed wrist every time the
girls heart beat. Screaming, she stabbed furiously at her attacker. The
short blade of the dagger connected with Tendra's stomach. Kysandra pushed
Tendra away, leaving the blade imbedded in her side. The crowd at the sight
of so much blood, but a few people were sickened by it, and the innkeeper
was one of them. Just then the door burst open, letting the cold evening
air in. Five heavily armed soldiers began to spread out, preparing to apprehend
these bowlers, who were violating the law. Kysandra decided she was not
going to spend one night in that filthy prison. Clutching her wrist, Kysandra
dashed up the stairs, planning on escaping through the second level window.
As she reached the top, she turned around to view the situation.
One soldier was at the bottom of the stairs and getting closer.
The others were either taking Tendra prisoner, or standing guard at the
door. With not much time to think, Kysandra pulled out a tiny, hand held
crossbow with her good hand. Thanking the gods it was already loaded, she
fired the single bolt. It sped forth with deadly accuracy, striking Tendra
in the heart. The look on the bitch's face was worth it all, even loosing
the hand. She knew she would probably not escape capture, judging by her
wound, but the image of the expression on the girls face was now hers to
keep, and no one could take it away from her.
By: Calvin Cockell