And now for Part 2
Three days later.....
You crouch low between two large boulders, your hood up concealing your face and a dark cloth mask covering all but your eyes as you watch over the camp of enemies below you. In the little clearing in the hilly and mountainous terrain lay one of the many forward camps of the Atlovans, set up at regular intervals around the fort, the last bastion of Atrian influence in the area.
Using your superior sight, you try to spot your prey. It is hard, as the camp is close together, and the tents external flaps are pinned to the roofs of their neighbours creating artificial tunnels that are protected mostly from the rain storm that only recently rolled in. You estimate that there must be only about 50 human troops in the camp, not including the officers. Enough to make things messy and difficult for you should you be spotted.
As you watch, you spot three runners enter the camp. Two traveling together from the North East, an Orc from the mountains and a Fallan, a creature of the caves, similar to orcs and goblins but with four legs and the ability to spit globs of highly sticky mucus, and one traveling alone from the South who, from his dark attire, white sash and underfed steed, was a Drow.
You watch as the runners approach the camp, the crude but sturdy palisade gates opening to allow the messengers entry.
Predictably, the sub commander in charge of the camp exited his tent to meet them, standing out like a rampaging boar in a finery shop with his heavy scale-plate armour, even if it was painted a dull grey with black trim.
Your target had shown himself.
You look around for your way to kill him.
You could use your bow. Elven bow-makers had made your bow, and it would not lose power in the wet. Human scale-plate, whilst good, could not stand up to a solid shot of elven bodkin. Smiling, you thought of the message you could attach to the arrow, which could be read in confusion as you made your get away.
You then spot that on a particularly steep hill, there is a large gathering of heavy boulders. A single explosion spell could set them tumbling down the hill, clearing a way for you to either sneak in and kill the man with your daggers. Doing things this way would be cleaner, and it would not give away your identity as quickly, but it would be far higher risk.
Looking over the camp again, you spot two carts loaded with supplies, some of which were flammable barrels of alcohol. They were much too tempting a target to pass up. You could cripple the camp and force them to fall back for supplies, or at least stop their patrols and raids against the fort and those few in this area who still believe in good and honour.
Lastly, you could use your magic. From this range, you would have a hard time hitting the commander, but if you did, his proximity to the messengers would take them with him as well, which could cause friction within the Atlovan ranks. The species that make up their little coalition distrust each other at best. You would also take care of the communiques the messengers were supposed to be passing on.
As you watch over the camp from your concealed vantage point, the hair on the back of your neck raises and your sharp hearing picks up soft steps on the stone behind you and to your left. You stay perfectly still.
Could the messengers have brought friends? Were those friends keeping an eye on them? Had they seen you?
What do you do?
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Topic: (SG) The World of Ricovero - Ghost in the Rain (Read 16276 times)