[WIP] Slip Up
Jan. 29th, 2016 11:45 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sunshardsAnother very old, very unfinished-but-recently-added-to bit of story.
--Slip up
Gilneas
'This was supposed to be easy,' Iiloridan silently bitched to himself, arms straining as he attempted to fend off the blade of a very angry human. Granted, it was understandable that the human was angry. Iiloridan had only just stabbed him about five times in the back, and in his own house no less.
But he was supposed to be dead, not alive and furious.
Damned human tenacity.
Twin daggers crossed over his face, it was all he could do to keep the heavy broadsword from taking a chunk out of him; the human had both height and weight on him, and was using that to his advantage, flinging himself bodily at the elven assassin and hacking away. It didn't help that the man was built like a brick shit house. His only advantage was that the man couldn't seem to get enough breath to fight and yell for help at once. Despite his adrenaline-fueled wrath, his breaths rattled wetly in his throat, bloody froth bubbling sluggishly out of his side where one of the rogue's blades had slipped between ribs to puncture a lung.
That, or the human was just so enraged he didn't think to bellow for help, but Lori wasn't going to question it.
The human swung again and Iiloridan repositioned his blades just in time, teeth grinding as the blow shook him hard enough to nearly drive him back into the wall. He lashed out blindly with a leg, catching the man in the knee; he growled wetly and stumbled back. The pressure on the blade slipped- but the man pulled back his blade arm and thrust, trained warrior still pressing the advantage. The tip dropped under Iiloridan's guard, and his full-body flex to the side barely spared him from being speared through the rib cage. Even then, he wasn't quite fast enough, blade clattering off ribs as it gashed open his chest just under his arm pit. Swearing violently, the rogue flipped a blade in his palm and back-slashed at the human's face; he caught more beard than flesh when his target jerked back in turn, but the sudden dodge to save his face and eyes cost him. He started coughing, bloody spittle dribbling up between grimacing teeth as he stumbled further back out of the rogue's reach. The tip of his blade wavered and dropped, a hand curling around his blood-streaked side.
Flipping his other blade, Iiloridan closed in to make the kill, circling cautiously.
A mistake. The human still had some fight left in him, despite his drooping eyelids and suddenly milk-white pallor. The speed in which he managed to jerk the giant sword caught Iiloridan off guard, and he dropped, leg folding when the edge caught him in the thigh just above the knee. He lashed out reflexively even as he fell, landing under the dying man's guard; a blade lodged in the human's muscled forearm, catching between bone, while the other caught him in the gut and sliced. Hot blood spilled over his clenched fist, and human made a high, primal noise of pain that cut off abruptly.
Broadsword and human both fell at once, the bulk of the man landing on Iiloridan's abused leg. The rogue swore breathlessly, curling up in pain as much as he could with the bulk of the man draped over his lower half. It took him a moment, shaking with pain and out of breath, but he managed to control himself enough to shove the human away, where he flopped limply onto the hardwood floor. Clasping a hand tightly over the seeping wound, he was forced to go digging through his belt pouches one-handed. A roll of bandages and gauze were quickly produced; tucking the gauze under the cut black leather, Iiloridan wrapped the deep cut as tightly as he dared. In the middle of tying the knot, blood cessing it's pounding in his ears did he realize the room wasn't entirely quiet, aside from his own breath.
Gilnean hounds were barking outside, just down the street.
Iiloridan froze, ears perking up as he strained to listen past the rain on the tiled roof. The curtains were still drawn, with only the bedside lantern and a small fire in the crackling brazier lighting the room. Had they been louder than he had suspected? Had they been seen in their fight, struggling shadows cast on the curtains and witnessed down below?
No one was yelling yet, but the dogs were definitely getting closer.
No time to sit and worry about it. The gash under his arm was harder to get to, but Iiloridan quickly slid more gauze under his jerkin, using up the last of his bandage roll to loop it around his entire chest. It was a slapdash job at best, but he needed to move. Struggling up to his feet, Lori pulled a spare blade out of his boot; both others were still lodged in the man's body, and he wasn't taking a chance this time. Blood was seeping sluggishly out of the unconscious but still dying human, breaths the faintest wisps of air when Iiloridan passed a blood-wet hand over his mouth and nose.
A quick flash of the blade across his throat finally finished the job.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Iiloridan straightened up to take stock and make his escape. The room was trashed, sheets and clothing and parchment scattered everywhere from their brief but explosive fight. His daggers were still lodged in the human's corpse, and there was still the matter of retrieving what had been stolen...
The blade in his gut came free easily enough, though it was slippery with the sheer amount of red that covered it; the other was lodged so tightly between the bones of the human's forearm that Lori had to step on his wrist and wrench to get the blade free. Contemptuously grabbing one of the man's shirts, he used it as a rag to clean off his soiled blades- only to pause and frown. Examining one of the blades, Iiloridan swore and abruptly made to toss it away across the room, reneging at the last moment.
"Nicked it. That fucker."
Still swearing colorfully, he shoved them back in their sheaths, tossed the bloodied shirt aside, gave the corpse a kick and began to loot the room.
The papers were quickly scooped up and shoved in a messy stack into his bag; the Silvermoon emblem shown damningly on several, reassuring Iiloridan that he hadn't been sent on a fool's errand. Unfortunately, there was no time to loot the rest of the house - a door slammed down stairs and yelling was coming from out in the street. Iiloridan stiffened, ears perking up straight; the barking dogs were right outside.
"...Time to go."
The small but hefty little bag of gold hidden in the bedside table - and his life - would have to serve as recompense enough for stealing from the Quel'dorei.
Pausing only to snatch up the gaudy signet ring from the corpse's finger, Iiloridan cloaked himself in shadow and made to hoist himself out the nearest window-
Only to be hit in the face with biting rain and the sharp throb from his ribs and thigh.
"Fuck."
His escape was suddenly more of a crawl, and Iiloridan flopped noisily onto the sodden roof tiles. Panting, he groped blindly at his other pouches, pulling out a vial and chugging it down without looking at it. At least his invisibility was holding, but that wouldn't last if they found the body and came crawling over him over the roof. He'd probably left a obvious smear of blood all over the window sill.
Rolling over, Iilordian forced himself to his feet. The pain was dropping down to a dull throb thanks to the potion, but it would only last so long. He slowly began picking his way across the rooftop, human commotion down below rising in volume as doors slammed and voices shouted.
A booming bark of a dog come from inside, right on the other side of the roof. The rogue jerked, startled and abruptly unbalanced. Leg throbbing and wounded muscles spasming from the sudden additional pressure placed on them, Iiloridan caught his balance too late. His injured leg folded under him like a house of cards, and his other leg couldn't take the additional weight- not on the slick tiles. His feet slipped out from under him, sending him sliding down the roof with a curse. Fingers scrabbling for purchase, he couldn't get a grip on the wet-slick slate. Landing heavily from the highest level of the tiered roof down to the second floor, the elf flailed and grabbed for the raised terrace around a windowsill. He almost managed it.
Iilordian caught on only briefly, fingers slick with blood and rain. It was enough to throw him off his sliding course and sent him into a roll, arse over head, before plummeting right off the roof and down to the yard below.
The short, decorative fence caught his fall.
Iiloridan landed on the wrought-iron fence top with a choked gasp and a crack, pain too much to even yell as three arrow-shaped fence caps punched through his previously-uninjured thigh and side like spears. He'd landed on his back, spine bending back at a hideous angle, head smacking against the bars as he was forcibly draped over the top of the narrow fence.
------
--Slip up
Gilneas
'This was supposed to be easy,' Iiloridan silently bitched to himself, arms straining as he attempted to fend off the blade of a very angry human. Granted, it was understandable that the human was angry. Iiloridan had only just stabbed him about five times in the back, and in his own house no less.
But he was supposed to be dead, not alive and furious.
Damned human tenacity.
Twin daggers crossed over his face, it was all he could do to keep the heavy broadsword from taking a chunk out of him; the human had both height and weight on him, and was using that to his advantage, flinging himself bodily at the elven assassin and hacking away. It didn't help that the man was built like a brick shit house. His only advantage was that the man couldn't seem to get enough breath to fight and yell for help at once. Despite his adrenaline-fueled wrath, his breaths rattled wetly in his throat, bloody froth bubbling sluggishly out of his side where one of the rogue's blades had slipped between ribs to puncture a lung.
That, or the human was just so enraged he didn't think to bellow for help, but Lori wasn't going to question it.
The human swung again and Iiloridan repositioned his blades just in time, teeth grinding as the blow shook him hard enough to nearly drive him back into the wall. He lashed out blindly with a leg, catching the man in the knee; he growled wetly and stumbled back. The pressure on the blade slipped- but the man pulled back his blade arm and thrust, trained warrior still pressing the advantage. The tip dropped under Iiloridan's guard, and his full-body flex to the side barely spared him from being speared through the rib cage. Even then, he wasn't quite fast enough, blade clattering off ribs as it gashed open his chest just under his arm pit. Swearing violently, the rogue flipped a blade in his palm and back-slashed at the human's face; he caught more beard than flesh when his target jerked back in turn, but the sudden dodge to save his face and eyes cost him. He started coughing, bloody spittle dribbling up between grimacing teeth as he stumbled further back out of the rogue's reach. The tip of his blade wavered and dropped, a hand curling around his blood-streaked side.
Flipping his other blade, Iiloridan closed in to make the kill, circling cautiously.
A mistake. The human still had some fight left in him, despite his drooping eyelids and suddenly milk-white pallor. The speed in which he managed to jerk the giant sword caught Iiloridan off guard, and he dropped, leg folding when the edge caught him in the thigh just above the knee. He lashed out reflexively even as he fell, landing under the dying man's guard; a blade lodged in the human's muscled forearm, catching between bone, while the other caught him in the gut and sliced. Hot blood spilled over his clenched fist, and human made a high, primal noise of pain that cut off abruptly.
Broadsword and human both fell at once, the bulk of the man landing on Iiloridan's abused leg. The rogue swore breathlessly, curling up in pain as much as he could with the bulk of the man draped over his lower half. It took him a moment, shaking with pain and out of breath, but he managed to control himself enough to shove the human away, where he flopped limply onto the hardwood floor. Clasping a hand tightly over the seeping wound, he was forced to go digging through his belt pouches one-handed. A roll of bandages and gauze were quickly produced; tucking the gauze under the cut black leather, Iiloridan wrapped the deep cut as tightly as he dared. In the middle of tying the knot, blood cessing it's pounding in his ears did he realize the room wasn't entirely quiet, aside from his own breath.
Gilnean hounds were barking outside, just down the street.
Iiloridan froze, ears perking up as he strained to listen past the rain on the tiled roof. The curtains were still drawn, with only the bedside lantern and a small fire in the crackling brazier lighting the room. Had they been louder than he had suspected? Had they been seen in their fight, struggling shadows cast on the curtains and witnessed down below?
No one was yelling yet, but the dogs were definitely getting closer.
No time to sit and worry about it. The gash under his arm was harder to get to, but Iiloridan quickly slid more gauze under his jerkin, using up the last of his bandage roll to loop it around his entire chest. It was a slapdash job at best, but he needed to move. Struggling up to his feet, Lori pulled a spare blade out of his boot; both others were still lodged in the man's body, and he wasn't taking a chance this time. Blood was seeping sluggishly out of the unconscious but still dying human, breaths the faintest wisps of air when Iiloridan passed a blood-wet hand over his mouth and nose.
A quick flash of the blade across his throat finally finished the job.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Iiloridan straightened up to take stock and make his escape. The room was trashed, sheets and clothing and parchment scattered everywhere from their brief but explosive fight. His daggers were still lodged in the human's corpse, and there was still the matter of retrieving what had been stolen...
The blade in his gut came free easily enough, though it was slippery with the sheer amount of red that covered it; the other was lodged so tightly between the bones of the human's forearm that Lori had to step on his wrist and wrench to get the blade free. Contemptuously grabbing one of the man's shirts, he used it as a rag to clean off his soiled blades- only to pause and frown. Examining one of the blades, Iiloridan swore and abruptly made to toss it away across the room, reneging at the last moment.
"Nicked it. That fucker."
Still swearing colorfully, he shoved them back in their sheaths, tossed the bloodied shirt aside, gave the corpse a kick and began to loot the room.
The papers were quickly scooped up and shoved in a messy stack into his bag; the Silvermoon emblem shown damningly on several, reassuring Iiloridan that he hadn't been sent on a fool's errand. Unfortunately, there was no time to loot the rest of the house - a door slammed down stairs and yelling was coming from out in the street. Iiloridan stiffened, ears perking up straight; the barking dogs were right outside.
"...Time to go."
The small but hefty little bag of gold hidden in the bedside table - and his life - would have to serve as recompense enough for stealing from the Quel'dorei.
Pausing only to snatch up the gaudy signet ring from the corpse's finger, Iiloridan cloaked himself in shadow and made to hoist himself out the nearest window-
Only to be hit in the face with biting rain and the sharp throb from his ribs and thigh.
"Fuck."
His escape was suddenly more of a crawl, and Iiloridan flopped noisily onto the sodden roof tiles. Panting, he groped blindly at his other pouches, pulling out a vial and chugging it down without looking at it. At least his invisibility was holding, but that wouldn't last if they found the body and came crawling over him over the roof. He'd probably left a obvious smear of blood all over the window sill.
Rolling over, Iilordian forced himself to his feet. The pain was dropping down to a dull throb thanks to the potion, but it would only last so long. He slowly began picking his way across the rooftop, human commotion down below rising in volume as doors slammed and voices shouted.
A booming bark of a dog come from inside, right on the other side of the roof. The rogue jerked, startled and abruptly unbalanced. Leg throbbing and wounded muscles spasming from the sudden additional pressure placed on them, Iiloridan caught his balance too late. His injured leg folded under him like a house of cards, and his other leg couldn't take the additional weight- not on the slick tiles. His feet slipped out from under him, sending him sliding down the roof with a curse. Fingers scrabbling for purchase, he couldn't get a grip on the wet-slick slate. Landing heavily from the highest level of the tiered roof down to the second floor, the elf flailed and grabbed for the raised terrace around a windowsill. He almost managed it.
Iilordian caught on only briefly, fingers slick with blood and rain. It was enough to throw him off his sliding course and sent him into a roll, arse over head, before plummeting right off the roof and down to the yard below.
The short, decorative fence caught his fall.
Iiloridan landed on the wrought-iron fence top with a choked gasp and a crack, pain too much to even yell as three arrow-shaped fence caps punched through his previously-uninjured thigh and side like spears. He'd landed on his back, spine bending back at a hideous angle, head smacking against the bars as he was forcibly draped over the top of the narrow fence.
------
