Delivering Death...

While on a simple job delivering messages, Dane finds himself in a dangerous predicament and has to fight for his life while trying to do the job he is paid to do...

Who is the man he is to deliver the message to, and more importantly; what is the message?

The black cloak blew as the door opened; the sudden draft bringing with it the unmistakeable stench of death. The door creaked to a halt and the messenger peered in warily.

Dane cautiously stepped in the house. He was used to danger; his job being what it was. He took another step, shifting his body weight as he did, keeping his feet spread apart to relieve pressure on the floor boards, all in order to avoid causing unneccesary sound that could alert anyone, or anything, that could pose a potential threat.

Remaining in his cautious stance, Dane slipped into the shadows and wrapped his cloak firmly around himself. He had been doing this job for as long as he remembered, and he prided himself on his ability to avoid danger. The cloak helped disguise him in the dark, and due to the suspicious surroundings, Dane thought it best to remain hidden. The stench of death had caused him to be wary, and his wariness heightened his senses.

Shuffling noises from beyond the shadows brought a dark room to Dane's attention. The shuffling followed by a low pained moan. The sound would have been un-distinguishable from the low creaks of the old house were it not for Dane's superior senses. The senses brought to him by the constant dangers his job seemed to relentlessly place upon him. Dane slipped quietly into the dark room.

Upon entering the room he realised the extent of the danger in which he had placed himself. Four large brutes stood around a chair in which was tied an elderly man. The man in the chair sat limp and unmoving, but whimpered slightly upon seeing the silhouette of a man in the doorway.

Upon seeing the man whimper, the four men turned and noticed Dane stood there.
"Somebody grab him", the biggest man ordered, slowly walking towards Dane who stood unmoving in the doorway. The four men, all of them large and dangerous looking, moved gracefully towards the man.

Dane, still in the doorway, watched as the men advanced. They were too gracious to be mere drunken brawlers, too fluid in their movements. They manouvered as one, showing themselves to be professionals at their trade: Assassins.

But Dane was a professional too. He watched as they moved and pulled his sword free from his scabbard. Assassins usually carried small poison tipped knives in these parts, and he would have to stop them from getting close.

Dane stayed in the doorway; it would make make it easier to fight four men in an enclosed space. Dane wasn't relying on his swordskills anyway, he was just buying himself enough time to unleash his deadliest weapon.

Dane parried the first strike as it came. He had been wrong about the knives: they were all carrying shortswords, but they would still have wiped the edges down with deadly poison. He had to avoid being hit at all costs, one small cut, no matter how small or insignificant, and it would all be over.

Another strike this time and Dane knocked it wide. The assassins were having trouble getting more than one assailant at the enemy due to the confined space. Dane deflected yet another thrust and then counter attacked with a sweep from the right. The assassin was cut asunder from shoulder to chest and fell with a roar. His place was taken by another of the men.

This assassin was quicker and delivered a quick flurry of strikes, all of which were parried by Dane, but his strength was being sapped and his arms were getting tired.

Another attack, another parry, but this time Danes arms were sluggish, his sword coming up that bit slower, and the poisoned blades getting that bit closer. With a surge of energy he kicked the man back into his companions. They all stumbled, allowing Dane to build up power.

He stood, legs spaced apart, arms stiff and held to the floor, drawing power from the earth. The assassins, highly trained and quick, got to their feet hastily and ran at Dane.

As the assassins closed the distance, Dane stood up from his power position and pointed his hands at the enemy. There was a deep roar and the world erupted in an inferno of firey pain.

The End

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