[Storyline] Thrill of the HuntTools of the trade...
"I checked my sources."
Slitted yellow eyes rested their gaze on the man. "I'm sure they were gracious."
Sitting behind a desk littered with vials and herbal ingredients, the man folded his arms and leaned back into a wooden chair covered in soft fur. "You have a reputation for violence."
A chuckle. "Everyone in our trade does."
The man leaned forward. "I don't work with mindless violence." He paused, and then said, "Understand?"
"Of course. Can we do business now?"
"We can do business."
The feline drew out a folded piece of paper, no seal on it. He placed it on the desk.
The man opened it up, and after several moments of consideration, said: "This is a special order. Very rare. Strange...and it will cost much."
"Trias are not an issue. Name your price."
Smiling, the man wrote on the paper with a quill-pen dipped in ink, and handed it back.
After his own consideration, the feline said: "We have a deal. Here is your payment, all up front, as I have been informed." Pulling a medium-sized pouch from his pocket, and then tossing it onto an empty section of the large desk, he turned to leave.
As he counted the trias with a smile on his face, the man behind the desk spoke. "I didn't expect this purchase. Certainly rare, but, unexpected. To say the least. From your reputation."
The Enkidukai looked back. "There are many ways to get what we want. I have no particular preference."
After the attack...
Entering the inn, his ears perked up to the sounds of merriment: singing, the clinking of glasses, and the chatter of friendly strangers. Moving on, the Enkidukai quietly took to his room, locking the door with a scratched bronze key. He sniffed. It smelled faintly of pipe-weed and beer; the other night's relaxation method.
Slitted eyes roved around a room rented not a few days ago. Quickly, he dropped to the floor and looked under the bed. There, in a corner, laid a grey-colored, hide satchel. It was thick, and bulging. Carefully, it was drawn out, and he searched its contents. Two vials, cushioned in white linens. One of purplish liquid. The other, similar, but with a reddish hue. He returned the satchel to its former hiding place, and stood up.
Breathing a sigh of relief, the Enkidukai relaxed. No entry. It was all there, down to the tiniest detail. Where he had moved the wardrobe several inches to the right -- the same. Then, without hesitation, he slammed his right paw against the wall! How could I have been so foolish?! A crime of passion, gifting Roled with the poison and cut. He might have compromised himself to that fighter, that armored woman.
Footsteps drew close. His muscles tensed, and he spun around, dagger drawn. Precious moments passed, as a -- presumably -- group of passerby were silent. Then, an "Aha!" from a high-pitched, feminine voice. "There's my room key, V'arahai!". The Enkidukai heard a baritone voice say in response, "Thank the Gods. I'm falling asleep from all the beer. It's a double right? Because..." And the voices trailed off. A door closed.
Relaxing, he took the blade and wiped it clean on one of the linen cloths by the bed. I'll have to burn that later. Turning his attention to the window overlooking Hydlaa, the Enkidukai licked his lips. They'll be looking for a unmasked assailant. Still, the city is large, and I have stealth on my side.