From the brush he watched them, observing their every move. The hunter was ready. He was hungry for blood. He watched, and waited for the right moment. He closed his eyes, opening himself to the Power. It filled him, giving him life. Ahead of him one of the sentries stood watch. A smile appeared on the hunter's face. How easy this would be. The sentry leaned on his spear in a way that said that he had had more wine than he should have, and was on the verge of sleep. The hunter, as silent as death itself, closed in on the unsuspecting prey.
* * *
Flen sat beside the fire listening to the other men talk of the gold and glory they would soon have. He was a realist. He didn't believe in such things. The only reason he had taken the job was to feed his family. That's all he wanted to do.
The gold they would get from this job would be enough. He looked to the wagon in the center of the camp that held their cargo. What was in that wagon, and who would pay enough gold to provide for fifteen men to live comfortably to get it? So many questions were asked, but he didn't care. All he cared about was getting home safe.
* * *
The hunter finished dragging the sentry's body into the brush. He wiped his sword on the corpse's coat. The man had never seen it coming. He surveyed the rest of the camp. There were several fires, and most of the men were around them. Only a few were on the perimeter as sentries. He crept into the center of the camp, to the wagon that he knew held something of power. He knelt by the side of the wagon, and again observed his surroundings. He could sneak out with the item, but what fun would there be in that? The hunter smiled, a cruel and wicked smile, and moved towards the nearest fire.
* * *
"We'll live like kings! Bwuahaha!" one of the men yelled. Flen only shook his head. Another man with a thick black beard and a large gut that was too big for the shirt he was wearing gestured to the wagon, "What do you suppose is in there to be worth so much?" A few men shrugged, unsure.
"Who cares?" said the first man, "As long as we get our gold, that's all I'm concerned w-" whatever he had planned to say turned into a gurgle as a blade popped through his chest. The men around the fire yelled curses as they scramble to their feet, and drew their own weapons. Flen muttered a quick prayer to his god and drew his own sword.
* * *
The hunter tore his sword from the fat mans chest. He spun to his left, bringing his sword around, taking the man with the big beard across the throat. He smiled a wicked smile as he heard the men from the other fires coming at him. Time for fun.
A man to his right gave a sloppy hack with his sword. The hunter side-stepped and the man's head snapped back as a dagger suddenly appeared under his chin. The hunter pushed him aside and brought his sword up and down diagonally, cutting the next man from shoulder to hip. He let out a cruel laugh as he brought death to all who came at him.
* * *
Fen stood wide eyed as the strange killer brought down all in his way. He had to get away, to see his family. He could find work somewhere else. He looked around for somewhere he might run and was greeted by the cold eyes of the killer right in front of his face. Fen's face went pale as he looked into dark red eyes. In them he saw madness, wickedness, and cruelty. A smile appeared on the killer's face. The same smile that had appeared when the slaughter began.
Fen looked around the camp for help, but no one was there. He began to mutter a prayer, and the killer burst out into a fit of laughter. "Your prayers are hollow! No one will save you now!" And it was then that Fen knew that he was right. No one was coming to save him. Not his god, not his friends, no one. He thought of his family, of his lovely wife and child. The killer's smile grew wider, and Fen jerked as a sharp sensation of pain came over him. He looked down to see the blade of the killer protruding from his stomach. The last thing Fen saw were the cold, merciless eyes of the his killer, and the smile he held on his face.
