[ WP ] Share an excerpt from a story you 've been writing in your head


 Marcos stared down into the great hall high above the rafters searching for his target. The enchantments on his mask feeding every detail into his eyes. He knew what he was looking for, a messenger bearing news of the King's death. A single messenger with a single message, that's all it would take to unravel the plans of Guildmaster Aligra. Marcos had every intention of preventing that from happening. 
 
 In the mass crowd of nobles Marcos spotted a plain looking man, a plain looking leather bag on his side. Mud tracked in from his boots. The smell of sweat coming off the man reached his enchanted mask. A traveler in a hurry, a messenger, a target, his target. 
 
 He observed the messengers movements planning out his kill, planning out his escape when he felt the enchantments on his armour pulse indicating the presence of eyes on him. Not from below, but across the rafters. 
 
 Hostile eyes, Marcos knew the feeling well. He spotted the enemy rogue in the corner of rafters, his enchanted mask feeding him every detail. She was slim about a foot shorter than he. She wore black cloth with few enchantments. Two daggers sheath on her hips. She wore a cloth mask over her mouth and nose with a single enchantment to silence her breathing. Although she lacked a full mask with full enchantments, she did not need them. She was elven. No insignia, no coat of arms, no mark of allegiance at all but Marcos knew she was hostile, he could feel it as he reached for his dagger. 
 
 She leaped across the beams with agility that startled Marcos. She thrusted her dagger at him. Marcos brought up his dagger looking to parry the blow only to realize that the clang of steel would draw attention from below. He stepped in and grabed her wrist looking to throw her down into the crowd of nobles below before realizing that was a stupid idea. He held on to her wrist as she dangled in the air dagger still in her hands. She slashed at his leg only to find the steel of his enchanted boots. The clang hung in the air as Marcos pulled her up and throw her to the adjacent beam. With elven grace she landed soft and balanced. 
 The enchantments on Marcos armour started to pulse, he could feel eyes from below on him, not direct, but searching. Marcos went silent as did the elf. She must of felt it too. 
 
 That seemed to rule her out as one of the Jarl's agents, Marcos thought. 
 They stood staring into the dark directly into each other's eyes. It was dark up here, Marcos knew the guards naked eyes would not be able to spot them against the blinding glow of the torches used to light the hall. But he waited till eyes were no longer searching above. 
 
 Marcos moved across the beam allowing room for the elf to leap across to his beam. There they stood sizing up each other scanning for weaknesses. He was armoured and she now knew this. Beneath his cloak was plate, enchanted to be lighter than cloth. She was quick and agile, and he knew this. 
 
 She came at him thrusting to a spot where she thought a gap in the armour might be. Marcos ducked and flung her over his head wheeling around as she landed behind him. She moved in quick swung her blade hoping to catch his throat. Marcos back flipped out of the way kicking the dagger out of her hand, he caught it by the blade, spun around and launched it back at it's owner. The elf lept across to the adjacent beam dodging the knife. She ran across the beam forcing Marcos to chase on his. She ran to the far edge of the beam towards the wall drawing her second blade. She leaped into the air kicking off the wall aiming her dagger point towards Marco's throat. Marcos caught her dagger by its blade. His guantlet protecting his hands from steel. For a moment he stared into her eyes. 
 
 `` There's hatred in those eyes.'' He said, `` I would introduce myself if I was n't so certain that introductions were unnecessary.'' 
 
 Through his enchanted hood, Marcos could make out the Jarl's voice. 
 `` Dead! Are you certain.'' 
 
 `` Yes, my Jarl'' said the messenger `` Fell during the battle, an arrow found it's way into King Jaevin's throat.'' 
 
 `` I see'' said the Jarl. `` and what of the Prince Deameon?'' 
 
 `` Missing sir, seems to have run off after the battle, Captain Kennly leads a search as we speak.'' 
 
 `` I see, well I must address my court.'' 
 
 `` Dammit!'' said Marcos `` you cost me my mission you bitch!'' The crowd below grew louder as the news of the king reached there ears. With noise no longer being an issue Marcos drew his sword as he kicked the elf away from him. 
 Marcos leapt across the beams to an opened window leading the elf to chase. He lead them across the roof tops of the village to a nearby field beyond the village walls, a battle ground much suited to his fighting style than balancing on beams. 
 When he reached the fields he turned to stare at the elf. The moon light bathe the snowy field in brilliant light. Marco's removed his mask. 
 
 There is a rule amongst rogues, spies and assassins. Amongst all those who work in the shadows. If an enemy sees your face, that enemy is be eliminated immediately. Failure to do so would ensure your own colleagues would take your life. 
 
 But to remove ones own cover when faced with an enemy was to invited them to death. A statement, I will kill you and I know it. 
 
 The elf stared at Marcos through her uncovered eyes before removing her hood and mask. 
 
 A smile crept on Marco's face. `` Ariola'' he said, `` I thought you dead along with that whore mother of yours.'' 
 
 Ariola said nothing, with tears streaming down her cheeks in the cold winter air, she charged. Fury fueling her every step. Flashbacks of her mother, her Red hair flowing against her emerald eyes. She screamed. Flashback of her human father carrying her on his shoulders laughing as they ran across the fields. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she drew her sabre. 
 
 Flashback of Marcos presenting her with a present on her 11th birthday. A pretty sapphire necklace that she saw the nobles wear and wanted on of her own. A necklace she still wore around her neck. Marcos was the closest thing she had to father when her own father died. A mentor, a tutor, he provided for her and her mom without asking for anything. He was a friend of her father. And now she wanted him dead. 
 
 Ariola activated the enchantments on her sword, fiery white flames shot out from the steel and she swung with such hatred the gods would of shuddered. 
 
 
 *Please note this is very very rough, I have yet to fill in the full fight scene just yet.
