March 3, 2006 at 1:31 am #1832MinaLeadingParticipant
The dark edge of a throwing blade lands deadeye to a thick wooden target. Before the hilt can stop vibrating he launches into a double fisted roundhouse to a padded dummy and lets fly a second dagger upon his spider-style landing;his face inches from the ground. Hazel eyes peer up at the sailing steel as it embeds in a second wooden target. With a slow grace he stands and leans to the right a bit. A leather wrapped hand feels the long wound underneath his hunting leathers would be. It was nearly healed, and his training was a necessity. The second he lost his edge would be the second his French enemies would get the drop on him. He was surprised they hadn't come for him yet, but instead chose to display their arrival through physicalities towards his sister. It pissed him off is what it did. Fueled him, secretly. He had long since shed the disadvantages of attachment long ago. It was a necessity in his line of work. But he wasn't so much cold as just callouse. He did care. He just wouldn't admit it.
He steals a tight grip to a darkly wrapped ebon hilt, prying the razored blade free of the wooden target. With a dexterous flip of the blade he sends it over his hand and rolls it across his knuckles, before snapping it in a tight reverse move back into his palm. With a sly grin and modest shake of his head he tosses it up to turn overend and drop straight down into a concealable boot sheath already in motion. His darkly clad form stalking across the warehouse and towards a small maintenance access door leading to the docks.
He had questions. Questions needing immediate answering. He'd have to do some poking around at the coffee house tonight. Drop a few questions, see if he stirred any looks or whispers. Usually danger presented itself if chased after long enough;and he owed his newly acquired adversary. Whatever the cost, he would retrieve that artifact. He'd been to alot of places and seen alot of shit but nothing like last nights occurance. He still had doubts about an actual mummy coming to life and running off into the night. It was probably an associate of his attacker, making a hand off and attempting to leave no trails. He'd done the bit before to elude a Turkish war lord three years prior. Him and his cohort both escaped, unscathed. Much like last nights events.
With a final drag from his joint, he flicks the roach away and hugs his cloak to his form, moving into the foggy shadows;which permeate the surrounding area like feathers to a tarred chicken.
The ScoundrelMarch 3, 2006 at 3:16 am #2395CharlizeParticipant
Just great. Here he goes starting trouble! (Great job toots. Write more please. NO EXCUSES!!!)
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