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Infiltration...
Thu Jun 15, 2006 14:39
82.46.72.26 (XFF: 10.66.16.14)

Zander's still form held back in the shadows cast by the gently rustling leaves of an aged and gnarled sycamore. He gave no hint of his position away, his body rigid as a fortress wall. He had chosen his uniform well it seemed. The Seanchan guard that stood just over a stone's throw away had not noticed him at all, even upon his loud arrival at the edge of the dark and dank foliage. The black of his clothes blended into the shadows of the trees, making of him a spectre. He had spent the last hour or so in sharp study of the Seanchan guard and his habits. He had noticed that at every hour- as far as his rough guesses at the passage of time could discern as an hour- the guards were changed so that the ones who had been on duty could rest from their weary work.

Any minute now Zander thought absently to himself.

His breathing was steady and his heart thumped in his chest at a steady pace, but Zander couldn't shake the feeling that something was out of place with the scenario that was presented to him. His hand was slipping on the butt of his small crossbow due to his tension induced sweating; but he had a bolt in place, ready to administer a small dose of death. In the space between one blink and the next, his prediction became a reality. Another Seanchan soldier sauntered up to the one that was presently on duty. They began to shake hands and bow their heads, exchanging a few words of camaraderie. Come on! Get the hell out of there you bloody guard. Blood and ashes, I don't have all day! Zander screamed to himself in the confines of his own skull. But the soldiers did have all day it seemed, and it was a further ten minute before the one who had been on duty had left. Zander gave it a count of fifty before he began his plan. His hand rose up, pointing directly at the new Seanchan guard. Sighting down the crossbow and pulling the trigger in a fluid movement, Zander was already running towards the inevitably dead guard before the bolt had struck his heart.

His legs pumped Zander across the small length of grass and up the ditch just as the Seanchan soldier was about to cry out. He covered the man's mouth and dragged the man forcefully towards the trees. The soldier struggled, batting at his face and arm, digging his heels into the soil, trying vainly to get a grip but merely tracing a groove across the ground. Once Zander had got him into the lovable shade of the trees, he drew a dagger across the man's throat and covered the now still body with a blanket of leaves. Once he had done the work he stood back and considered it.

How like a shroud it looks. Rest in peace he intoned to himself solemnly, before setting off and taking up the now dead guards position. He smiled to himself. The Tower had not killed every part of what he had once been, and neither had his life after the tragedy either. He still had a reverence for life, knowledge of its value in more terms than strategic or monetary worth. He leaked a tear down his cheek that slowly caressed its way down to his neck. He shed another for the man that he had once been, that was now lost to this world, consumed by the violence and debauchery of the world. But within seconds of his revelation, he had snapped his body upright and to attention, his gaze peering into the camp and down the main street that led to the central tent.

Every fibre of his being was pouring into his fierce gaze; so much so that he felt as if his soul and body was being sucked out of his eye sockets. For a good time he stood there, in that same position, fearing to move in case he missed what he was waiting for. As it was, he would have been better served being relaxed, as nothing happened, and by the time that the next man was approaching him to take over the guard duties, he was stiff and tired. As the man came within a few paces of him, he was startled to realise that it was in fact a woman. His mind raced with thoughts of what he should say, preparing back-up plans and phrases to say in return to questions. But before he could plan adequately she was upon him.

"Tired little man?" she pronounced. Zander could barely understand her, so much did she slur her words when she spoke. With a fervent prayer, he hoped that he was a good enough actor to get out of his situation alive.
"Very. I've been training all day, and now I have to do guard work. Next I have to cook the food. I'm very nearly worn out," he stated bluntly whilst trying to imitate her accent. He smiled before continuing, "Why? Don't want to face the watch alone? Scared of the dark and hoping that I would stay with you?"

There was a tense moment where Zander thought she would catch him out. That somehow, against the odds, she would unmask him and drag him away to be leashed and tortured. His heart seemed to beat inside his head, his grip grow weak. He was sure that his skin would sweat off of him in rivulets down his spine. But as the woman began to glare at him, she suddenly burst into laughter and gave him a friendly pat on the arm. Zander gave a weak laugh in return, turning away and hoping that his legs wouldn't give out before he was out of her sight. He rounded the next possible tent and squatted down, letting out the air in his now burning lungs, and drawing in what seemed to be the first and deepest breath of his life. Stars flashed across his vision as he straightened himself and made his way towards the central tent.

I'm in, and now I can't get out until I'm done. I hope that the luck that hasn't been with me for the whole of my life really chooses this moment to pay me back he thought bitterly, as he trudged towards the centre of the encampment, a shroud of dread across his entire being.



OOC: I know this is a bit wishy-washy, but I just really wanted to get to the assassinating parts ;) The rest will be better, promise *grins*

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    • Infiltration... — Soldier Zander Kilgas, Thu Jun 15 14:39
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