Her knife slides effortlessly into his neck, with a gurgle he crumples to the ramparts. She steps back, surveying the courtyard below without emotion. No witnesses, no alarms. The Fey Assassin unfurls her long, black wings, sheathing her daggers. She takes two steps to the wall’s edge, and then fades into the inky night.
He slips through the doorway unseen. The massive room is blanketed in darkness – beneath his ebony wings, he seems like just another shadow. He approaches the row of massive casks that line the walls, pulls out a small glass vial. The poison is potent – a few drops in each barrel should be more than enough.
The Moon Elf princess strolls gracefully through the palace hallway. There is a confidence about her that most people will never achieve, a grace reserved for professional dancers, blademasters and scions of the Elven regality. Her manner belies her true intention; just as her silk aksida hides the curving dagger at her waist. One of her cousins would die that night.
Not all Crows were heroes in life. Assassins ply a darker trade; sharp knives, deadly poisons and silent arrows are the tools they use to carve an inglorious role in history. Untrustworthy and ruthless, these dark mercenaries rarely travel in groups and begrudge military discipline – but their subtle skills are quite effective when it comes to toppling regimes and ending dynasties.