A Shadow in the Night

A shadow crouched in an alley across the street from Fool's Luck. That was all Ivan was, a shadow. In his trade, you were either not seen, or people died, but people always died in Ivan's trade. It was just that all assassins hoped it were their targets, and not them. His target was inside the tavern, most likely playing some high stakes game like Hunter or King's Grace. It didn't matter to him how important his target was in the city, he never asked, a target was a target. He would take out most anybody for the right price.

Ivan looked over the tavern one last time. It was almost dark, but the tavern was still bustling. He almost pitied those that were there by chance, almost. His buyer had ordered every person in the tavern killed, most likely to scare some certain house or another. Ivan didn't like to get into house wars; he was freelance, and would kill for anybody as long as they paid him enough. With what tonight would bring him, Ivan wouldn't have to make another hit for quite some time.

Fool's Luck was two stories high, and was heavily guarded. It was a popular tavern that was famous for always being full of people, ranging from peasants to nobles. They gambled with everything, all the way from a few coppers at dice, to their lives at Death's Touch. The guards gave the gamblers a sense of assurance that if they were cheated out of their money, they had somebody to back them. It wouldn't matter, there could have been a small army held up in there and Ivan would not have been worried. He knew his skills, and this would just be another night's work.

Ivan quickly went over his equipment to make sure there were no blunders. He wore somewhat baggy leather armor to conceal all 36 daggers he wore, 37 with the dagger that his buyer had given him with specific directions to use on his target. Twenty-four smaller throwing knives that were carefully prepared with a poison that would kill instantly and leave no trace were stored in various easy to reach places around his body, along with 18 darts that would put a person to sleep while doing minimal damage, though he wouldn't be needing those. He had tied his long black hair back into a ponytail, and wore a pitch-black cloak with a deep-set hood to conceal his hawkish nose and his ice blue eyes. There weren't supposed to be any witnesses, but if mistakes could happen, they most likely would. Ivan took every precaution he could, this was his trade. Taking a quick swig from a small canteen full of brandy he kept at his belt, he readied himself, now was the time for work.

The four guards outside Fool's Luck never got a chance to respond to his attack, four daggers darted from the alley across from them in quick succession, taking each one in the throat and dropping them instantly. Ivan strode out from the alley with a quick grace, a walking shadow. He retrieved his daggers quickly, wiping the blood off them as if it were dirt; he just hoped no blood would stain his new cloak. Ivan had it made special from far off, and it had cost him quite a bit of money, though he doubted his hopes would be met with the amount of killing that was to be done.

He strode into the common room, blades flashing in the torchlight. His gloved hands were a flurry of motion as they sought blades concealed on his body and let them fly. Nobody had a chance to scream or let out any semblance of alarm. Man and woman died to his cruel blades. Twenty-two dead just in the common room. He liked to keep a count on how many he freed of life. These people had no reason to live any more; Ivan was doing them a favor. His target was most likely on the second floor in a private chamber. He made his way to it methodically; weaving in and out of rooms and hallways while he was on his way, leaving only death is his wake. He stopped only once to look over an odd stuffed animal that was placed in the corner of a private dining room, next to the fireplace. Its fur was fairly short, black and white, and it resembled a bear, though Ivan was almost positive it was not. It seemed almost magical in a way. He would have loved to study while it still gave breath, but man's taint lay upon it, and it was a mockery towards such a magnificent creature.

He worked quickly; in only five minutes there was only one room he had not visited. He kicked open the door and walked in slightly, letting them all see him. Ivan wanted to have a bit of fun. Confusion first crossed the nine men's faces, and then horror as the first two daggers flew out of Ivan's hands and caught the closest two men in the chest. Four more were dead before they got a chance to stand up. That left only two others besides the target, who backed up against the far wall; he knew Ivan had come for him. Ivan sometimes wondered what it was like to stare death in the face; he had seen the same expression cross so many of his targets faces before they died. They must have been thinking of the mistake they made that had given him the opportunity to get paid to dispose of their worthless life, or possibly wondering which one of their many enemies had sent him. Though Ivan did not care in the least, these men were worthless. The other two men came at him with swords drawn. Ivan pulled out the two small falchions he had secured to his back; they were definitely his favorite weapons. If his target had come with the two it might have been a challenge, but two worthless nobles were not a problem.

The man to the left reached him first, swinging his sword in an overhead arc. Ivan quickly parried the sword to the left with his left falchion and buried the other deep in the man's chest. The man to the right hesitated at seeing his friend killed with such ease, and that just made it all the more easier. A quick slice with his right arm took off the man's sword hand, and another quick slice took off his head. His target still stood at the far end of the room, his back to the wall, staring in horror at him. Ivan took his time to bend down and wipe the blood off his two blades on a portion of one of the corpse's shirts that wasn't soaked with blood. He then calmly retrieved the daggers from the other noble's corpses, making sure to wipe the blood off and see if they were still sharp. He even started to sharpen the last one he pulled out, but that was enough for his target to break away from his fear.

Ivan's target came at him with a short sword he had worn at his belt. Ivan stood empty handed; waiting until that point was just inches from his chest before he twisted his body and grabbed his targets wrist that held the sword. Using the extra momentum of his twist, Ivan wrenched the man's arm back, and smiled in satisfaction when he heard the crack of bone and the man scream out. Ivan then flung his target back across the room where he had been before, and he collapsed in a heap on the wall. Ivan strode over to him while taking out the dagger meant to kill this man. It was a very fancy dagger. It had a finely worked hilt of intermeshed gold and silver strips, and the blade broke into three prongs an inch from the hilt but rejoined at the very tip. It was too ornate to be used regularly in his profession, but it did the job.

Ivan strode out from Fool's Luck with every dagger in perfect condition as when he came in, except one buried in his target's chest. A fairly large unit of the City Guard stood not twenty feet from the entrance of Fool's Luck, waiting while their commander inspected the four dead guards outside, but they did not see Ivan. He was just a shadow.