Knifer
01-06-15, 01:27 PM
The worst part of laying low and waiting in taverns was drinking their shite beer. Almost without fail, it would be weak or warm or wormy or all three.
This one, though, was a pleasant change. Part and parcel of going after upper-crust marks. Stone floor rather than splintery wood, an actual chimney to let the smoke out, a side of meat roasting that was definitely not a dog, and brews worth keeping down. The one currently filling his mouth was a thick, dark, bitter sort of barleywine - damn strong, too. Nijur liked it. Benefits of Her Ladyship's employment. The woman wanted some watery-eyed old winesack to spill his wine, and the mark liked this tavern when coming into town.
Beer dribbled from his chin as Nijur took a grinning mouthful. How fuckin' convenient, being able to sit and drink a decent swill while he waited to drain the winesack. I think she likes me.
The door to the street opened and Nijur read the new arrivals - two pretty-boy manservants, an old man, and a fuckin' big one. The sigils on the old man's surcoat were the ones he was looking for. The mark had arrived.
The problem would be the fuckin' big one. He was ... formidable, to say the least. Longsword on his hip, furs on his shoulders, wild look in his eyes, looking for trouble and getting no more than he wanted. The killer grinned. A decent bodyguard. He'd be the only issue. Nijur figured he could deal with both of the manservants at the same time, and maybe even off the winesack before the longsword started swinging. He'd have to be damn quick. This was a respectable part of town, where people actually called the Watch and the Watch actually came. Killings weren't just shrugged off and ignored here. Some of the folk in here might even try to stop him, which was an unwelcome and unusual thought.
Nijur rolled his hips on his bench, confirming the knives at his back. He'd never really worn cloaks before, but for these nicer parts of town they were a mite needed to hide weapons and such. The killer pulled the wings closer around him. It was a warm cloak too, which was nice.
The winesack was just getting ready to sit down. Nijur needed to hit now, before any of them got a chance to scan the room for threats. The bodyguard was smart enough to put them near one wall, out of the main flow of traffic. That could be dealt with, however.
The killer stood, stretched, and wove his way towards the bar, carrying the last dregs of his beer.
When he was in position, he tripped. The clay mug in his hand thrust forward and bloodied the jaw of a dwarf, knocking out a few teeth in the process. Nijur hit the floor nose-first and grinned into the stones spattered with his blood. A stony hand locked around his ponytail and hauled him to his feet. The killer yelped plaintively as he was hurled, bodily, across the room.
Right towards the winesack.
He wobbled to his feet, raising his hands in a feeble attempt at guarding himself as the dwarf's burly human friend barreled towards him.
"No please, an accident -" was all he managed before the first fist swung. Nijur ducked forward, came around behind, and shoved the man into the winesack's table. With a shrug, the cloak fell to the floor, and Nijur drew his knives with a snarling grin.
This one, though, was a pleasant change. Part and parcel of going after upper-crust marks. Stone floor rather than splintery wood, an actual chimney to let the smoke out, a side of meat roasting that was definitely not a dog, and brews worth keeping down. The one currently filling his mouth was a thick, dark, bitter sort of barleywine - damn strong, too. Nijur liked it. Benefits of Her Ladyship's employment. The woman wanted some watery-eyed old winesack to spill his wine, and the mark liked this tavern when coming into town.
Beer dribbled from his chin as Nijur took a grinning mouthful. How fuckin' convenient, being able to sit and drink a decent swill while he waited to drain the winesack. I think she likes me.
The door to the street opened and Nijur read the new arrivals - two pretty-boy manservants, an old man, and a fuckin' big one. The sigils on the old man's surcoat were the ones he was looking for. The mark had arrived.
The problem would be the fuckin' big one. He was ... formidable, to say the least. Longsword on his hip, furs on his shoulders, wild look in his eyes, looking for trouble and getting no more than he wanted. The killer grinned. A decent bodyguard. He'd be the only issue. Nijur figured he could deal with both of the manservants at the same time, and maybe even off the winesack before the longsword started swinging. He'd have to be damn quick. This was a respectable part of town, where people actually called the Watch and the Watch actually came. Killings weren't just shrugged off and ignored here. Some of the folk in here might even try to stop him, which was an unwelcome and unusual thought.
Nijur rolled his hips on his bench, confirming the knives at his back. He'd never really worn cloaks before, but for these nicer parts of town they were a mite needed to hide weapons and such. The killer pulled the wings closer around him. It was a warm cloak too, which was nice.
The winesack was just getting ready to sit down. Nijur needed to hit now, before any of them got a chance to scan the room for threats. The bodyguard was smart enough to put them near one wall, out of the main flow of traffic. That could be dealt with, however.
The killer stood, stretched, and wove his way towards the bar, carrying the last dregs of his beer.
When he was in position, he tripped. The clay mug in his hand thrust forward and bloodied the jaw of a dwarf, knocking out a few teeth in the process. Nijur hit the floor nose-first and grinned into the stones spattered with his blood. A stony hand locked around his ponytail and hauled him to his feet. The killer yelped plaintively as he was hurled, bodily, across the room.
Right towards the winesack.
He wobbled to his feet, raising his hands in a feeble attempt at guarding himself as the dwarf's burly human friend barreled towards him.
"No please, an accident -" was all he managed before the first fist swung. Nijur ducked forward, came around behind, and shoved the man into the winesack's table. With a shrug, the cloak fell to the floor, and Nijur drew his knives with a snarling grin.