Part I: The Rules of the Game Edit
A mysterious group of individuals that refer to themselves as
The Clan of the Nameless have targeted members of the Agency.
We know nothing of their appearence, abilities, or their political
alignment. Please beware of suspicious individuals that may be
out to harm you. If possible, capture these assassins if you come into contact so that we may question them.
Part II: Three and Target Edit
Each muscle tensed, coiling, waiting, harnessing its energy.
Exotic, slanting eyes - twin orbs of pure midnight so that the pupil was barely distinguishable from the iris - darted, drinking in each possibility for fight or flight.
Slender, nimble fingers curled around the hilts of twin daggers, leather biting into leather-wrapped flesh of palm. The shining steel of the blades were each buried up an opposing sleeve.
The mask billowed only slightly under the soft puff of breath. The figure pulled back and twisted, one with the shadow of the building's overhang. The rain pounded off the shining burnished-gold breastplate Target wore, which matched the rest of the silver-and-gold plate decorating the knight. A helmet with a golden plume sat upon Target's head, and Target's gauntlet-covered bracer rested on the pommel of a long sword buried in leather scabbard worked in elvish ivy and floral designs that embellished small gems. Three sneered at the flashy display.
Target walked crisply with the discipline of a soldier. Three's eyes darted to gaps where the plate strapped to other pieces in the armor kit of the knight. She mentally marked each exposure, each vulnerability. Many people flooded the paved streets of Dalaran. Three had killed before in crowded streets. A dash of thrill surged within her, and the ghost of a smile touched bloodless lips beneath the shroud of her facial mask.
She drew her cloak over her lithe body trussed in skin-tight, supple leathers from neck to toe. The cloak was enchanted to blend into her surroundings, a camouflage that kept her more discreet than even her considerable skill. She pulled the cowl up and over her eyes so that she could peer out, eyes never losing Target in the crowd. Following at a safe distance, carefully twisting her body so that the cloak kept her hidden, she followed Target to the vaults. As the soldier passed through the arched doorway, Three nimbly hopped up upon a balustrade and danced along it toward the building. Unseen from the side of the structure, enshadowed and cloaked, she turned and hooked her fingers backward over the awning. Drawing her knees upward and curling her body forward as she pulled, she eased herself upon the roof in one silent motion. Kneeling, she then turned toward the front of the building, sliding on her belly to the edge of the overhang. From her vantage point, she would be able to see the soldier exit.
Three did not become Three without her amazing record as proof of her abilities. Few had escaped the point of her dagger during the tenure of her career. She never boasted, though. That was for the hundreds. She was of single-digits. She was the cream amongst the crop. Only two were her better. And so what if Three-Before-Her met his end so suddenly and accidentally? Three-Before-Her should have been better, if he were deserving of his rank.
Glint of burnished gold. Plume. Target was departing in the shadowed corner. How unwise and yet so fortunate for Three that it almost swallowed the thrill with a pang of disappointment. This Agency was supposed to pose a challenge.
Like a spider she crawled to the edge near the soldier, hooking her fingers and uncurling in the same way she had ascended before. She dropped silently down on the pads of her leather-encased feet. Creeping forward, her right hand thrust up her left sleeve for its dagger and out into the gap between the back of the breastplate and greaves, up in a stinging motion toward the spine. It was all one fluid, incredibly fast maneuver. While her right hand held the soldier on toes, the left hand had deftly slipped the point of the other dagger through the vocal cords at the neck, where there was a gap between breastplate and helm at the collarbone. Just a quick sweep up and over sliced the voice neatly so that there would be no screaming. With considerable strength, Three pulled the soldier back into the shadows and withdrew the left blade to touch her ear, at which hung a single onyx stud.
A portal instantly opened and she whisked Target, known as one Kyna Moonlily, Agent of the renowned Agency, through.
Part III: Beginning the Chase Edit
The silver-haired slender elf spied the knight at the bank, her golden hair spilling out from beneath the proudly plumed helm. Hitching her skirts up, she ran; pushing through the crowd waiting in line for vault access. The plume disappeared around a large white column. The elf wove and pushed her way through, rushing to the edge of the stairway. People went about their business, perusing the post or weaving their mounts through the paved streets around carts and wagons and amongst the din of the merchants' calls. Luminescent eyes -- with just a hint of a slitted pupil buried beneath the ethereal glow -- scanned over their heads for the plumed soldier.
Movement from the shadows caught the edge of her vision, and she turned her head sharply only in time to see the silver-and-gold glint of steel reflect the shimmering patterns of a portal. Crimson spilled down the burnished gold chest plate from a black-coated fist that obscured the wound. The perpetrator used the captive's body to shield himself from view. A growl rose in the elf's throat; the soldier was family, not by blood, but by pledge. She made a rush, but knew that it would be too late to follow the pair through. The portal sealed behind them with barely a wink.
She knelt beside the residues of the arcane magic used to pull open the fabric of space and time. Though her magic was largely divine in nature, she could feel the web as though it were imprinted in the air. She needed a mage... and fast, before the "after image" faded entirely.
"Lynissa," Nazumai called softly into the communicator at her wrist. What appeared to be a simple bangle of jewelry actually hid an intricate device the Agency used to communicate incredible distances with one another. "Lynnie... please portal to Dalaran. It's an emergency. Kyna is in trouble!"