Snippet #2021856

Where indeed was the doppelganger clan in black with the shining, blood seeking blades? Where else, but in the shadows. It seemed that no sooner had he left the safety of the inn that he felt the ground beneath his feet tremble in the distance. Something big was approaching, or an army, but with the monster idea floating about the town, he decided on the former. Stepping away from the entrance of the inn and the others Zenin makes his way to an alley between the building and the next and clambers up onto the rooftop.

Upon reaching this height he can see the approaching creature, and right away throws out the notion of shapeshifting to distract it. Any form he took would only reach the shin of the creature at best. And so he fell to his old, reliable blades. Were he of another race he might have named them by now, that was a tradition among such races as humans and orcs he believed, but alas, the only value his kind saw was that of money and lies and blood. And in this mindset Zenin draws his daggers, turned so that the blade tips pointed towards his elbows, and waited for the giant to move closer...closer...closer....now!

Running across the roof, quick as a rat in a barn, he dashes to the edge then leaps off, landing on the shoulder of the giant shortly after Belen had let loose his arrow. From such a height the world was a different place, but that was of no account to the assassin. Taking a step back, and stabs his blades into the back of the monster and uses them to slow his decent as he slides downward, leaving behind twin trails of crimson, like some off tribal tattoo, at least until he reaches the creature's hip, where his blade leaps and he is forced to pull them free or lose them. And so he falls to the ground, tucking and rolling upon impact, ending up between Belen and Ea. Quickly he gets up into a crouch and looks from one to the other, offering only a slight nod.