The Bleeding

[Seheren]

The supple leather soles made scarcely a sound as he slunk down the empty alleyway. The cool night breeze had a salty tang that invigorated him. Made him feel at home in the Port City. Each heart beat felt as a drum in his chest. The adrenaline coursing through his veins, sharpening his senses as he neared the end of the alley and a thick wooden door.

The poor lock hardly resisted the turn of his tools. The door slid open with a faint creak, giving way to a small dark room. He smiled as he entered. His eyes adjusted slowly but he knew the room well enough. He had followed the pair for days. "It pays to know, Shrew.." He was often told. A task he very much enjoyed.

The room was sparsely filled. The couple was poor as any. He slunk across the deserted room and found the rungs of the ladder that led to the loft. With a deep breath he stole up the ladder, his heart beating so loud in his chest he feared it would wake the dead.

Yet the couple still slept.. The man plain enough. Strong of arm and back, with a full beard. A dockworker by trade. Gifted with negotiating, he had a future on the docks no doubt. The woman was plain as well, though her fair skin was alluring. With measured steps he crept closer and released his curved dagger from his belt. He knelt beside the hay mattress and watched them breath as he brought the metal to his mouth, running his tongue across the length of the blade. "The Shrew.." he chuckled at the name he was given.

He slid over the man first, trapping his arms beneath the woolen blanket as he gently prodded his chest with the blade and whispered into his ear. "Tell the Lord of Murder, The Shrew sends his prayers.." As the last words slid from his tongue, the blade sunk into the man's heart with a slight twist. The only noise was a soft gasp followed by it's gurgling end. The warmth covered his hands as the man's lifeblood ran free from the hole in his chest.

Bringing his bloody hand to his face he leaned back and offered a silent prayer to his sleeping God before he turned his eyes to the woman. In his elation he almost didn't see the whites of her eyes as she watched him, and he wondered just how long she had watched before he leaned in.

"Shh.. It's okay.. He is waiting for you." He whispered. And she knew no more.

[Seheren]

"Did you know that a Shrew has to eat several times it's own weight in food each day? Mice and other rodents often enough.." He almost laughed as he spoke above the cries of the bound couple. "Probably the most unassuming predator.." The Shrew continued, smiling along as he paced the floor of the secluded farm house.


"I bet now you are wondering how the little Shrew kills its prey.. Well it isn't with big teeth and powerful jaws." The Shrew was enjoying himself, smiling from ear to ear as he circled the chairs, testing the bindings with each round. He slid a single curved blade from his belt and held it before his face. "It's their saliva.." He answered himself as he ran his own tongue across the flat of the blade as he leaned in. "Venomous. Quite effective..." He paused. "Tell the Lord of Murder, The Shrew sends his Prayers..." The man quivered and sobbed a pleading noise as the Shrew slid the blade between his ribs. Louder still was the crying of his wife.

The shrew circled her a few more times, smearing a thin line of blood on her face with each pass. "Shh... Quiet dear. It is almost over.." The Shrew shed a single tear as the blade pierced her chest and she moved no more.

[Seheren]

Darkness seemed to cling around the meager fire at the crossroads. The Shrew looked across the smoldering embers as the Dark Traveler spoke. He listened and only spoke in return when a nod would not do. As the heart of the business approached the Shrew licked his lips. Excited at the thought of the blood he would no doubt spill.

"You will find one of these men.." The shadowy man said, stepping forward and thrusting a parchment forward with a gruesome image. The image made the Shrew smile, it depicted a bloodied Patrolmen's body held kneeling by his own polearm. The Shrew looked up at the shadowy man and nodded before another parchment was thrust into his hands. This one was a familiar one. The farm near the Second Wind. A common sight in passing to the city.

"Leave him here... The people must see that even the Strong will kneel." He continued, looking down into the Shrew's eyes as he knelt before the fire, stirring its embers hotter in the chill night.

The rest was just boring business to the Shrew. Haggling over price. Something he wouldn't charge if he did not have debts to be paid. He would do such things for free, he thought. As the talks finished he found himself as he often did, alone in the night. He wandered the path through Tyr's Fork and further beyond the Inn and nearby farm.

The night was yet young and chill, he drew the peasants rags he had over his leathers close to keep warm as he walked amongst the Legionaire's. Grouped together they were far to formidable, he knew. Even alone, they posed a significant threat. Trained warriors with strong weapons.

The Shrew did not have to wait long, however. A lone Patrolmen, probably off for a piss wandered down the Path. His Patrol with their backs to him, moving away.

"Sir! Please, down here!" He called out the Legionaire with a fake accent, one hand touching the disguise he wore. "Bandits down the way, at the Farm, Sir. I need your help." He continued. The Legionaire reluctantly closed in, "Sorry. The farm is on their own.. Our patrols are already too thin. Orders are Orders.." He replied, walking down a little further to peer into the darkness toward the farm.

Recognizing opportunity, the Shrew closed in. He glimpsed a slight gap in the mans armor and thrust forward viciously. He felt the blood run free over his hand and he thrust again and again, armor turning his blade. The wounded Legionaire turned and squared off. His long Halberd giving him an advantage at the distance.

The Legionaires training took hold and he fought back, landing hard blows against his would-be assassin. The fight drug on, the two each landing blows before the Legionaire swept an arcing swing that caught the Shrew in the shoulder. The blow sent the shrew to the ground with a thud and a pained groan. Taking the opportunity the Legionaire turned down the path, shouting for his patrol...

[Seheren]

The Shrew groaned in pain, but drug himself off the path. He struggled to his feet and found a small path up into the rocks. He pressed close to the cold stone and listened, waiting. He heard the Legionaires rushing down the path, but he could hardly make out the words, just jumbled pieces. "Bandits. . . Bleeding, Sir. . . . Gone. . . Damn you, soldier!" lifted to his ears. He could hear them as they kicked through the brush looking for him.

"Damn you fool.." He muttered to himself. Cursing his hubris. He had taken a green boy's mistake. He was too confident and rash. The shrew sat pressed to the stone listening and watching as he could in the dark. They didn't look long, he thought. As the noise moved further away, he wrapped his arm and drank a potion rolling from his spot and picking his way down the path.

He kept close to the rocks, and stopped at each noise. The shadows took him back down to the path while his mind raced. He had to fulfill the job. There was no choice. How would he do it now though? He almost strode out into the path blindly when he heard the soft curses and rustling bushes. Not fifteen meters up the path, the bleeding Legionaire looked through the brush and shadows for sign of his assailant too far down from his patrol.

The shrew dropped to his knees and collected himself. There was no room for error, this second chance was a gift. A gift the Shrew would never miss. He moved up along the opposite side of the path with practiced stealth. His supple boots making no noise across the soft earth. The Legionaire kept moving up the path, looking for some clue as the Shrew crossed over and closed the gap with long sure strides.

This time will be different, the Shrew thought. Ten steps, Five, two.. He felt his heart race as the wind swept past his ears, he gripped the blades in his hands and leapt forward. The first blade buried itself in his Victim's back forcing him rigid. Unable to react, the Legionaire only gasped as his throat opened and his life fled.

"Tell Him the Shrew sent you.." He uttered as the pair dropped to the ground. Still in pain, the Shrew could hardly drag the corpse. His arm throbbed furiously as he drug them further into the brush. He had little time, he thought. Another patrol could find them here.

The Shrew looked up and down the path as he gritted his teeth and began the long trek back to the farm. Only two men passed as he did his work. Neither seeing as he hid in the brush. Never moving along the main road he continued. He kept his pace as best he could, the stress of the fight catching up to him as the night drug on, the dull pains throbbing worse with each step.

The sight of the Farm brought on a rush of adrenaline and his heart raced. He could see the masterpiece before he was done. He sat and watched, making certain no merchant or patrol would interrupt before he set to his gruesome work. He pushed the body up against the well for support, placing his legs and arms evenly to keep him up. He picked up the large polearm and broke the haft short with a grin.

The Shrew took another step back and looked. One final piece, he thought as he thrust the spike atop the snapped polearm into the bottom of the man's jaw. Nudging him off the well, he repositioned the broken polearn to support him into the kneeling position..

The image burned into his brain, and it was all he could see as he melted into the shadows and returned to collect his payment... Another life given, one step closer to resurrection...