Post by The Stranger on May 7, 2008 0:47:44 GMT -5
This scenario is backdated; you've read it before, but I had the fight rolled so that there was an element of danger involved. The changes I made were for the deviations in the rolled fight to the one I originally wrote.
The nights were pleasant in Braavos; far nicer than the days. The smell of the ocean so near to the Sealord's palace was comforting. It had the same thick scent as the air which wafted through the veranda doors of Sunspear's Royal Solar.
There was a time, Tristeza remembered, as she stared through a set of imposing guards out of her chamber window, when she would have been able to enjoy the night air comfortably, without the ominous presence of so many silent sentinals.
At any given moment, within the Royal Braavosi Palace, anywhere between fifteen and twenty guards were within her immediatey vacinity, waiting with keen eyes and baited breath to thwart an attempt upon her life, or an attempt to kidnap her.
Though she was grateful for the protection, and on most occasions, accepted it graciously, as a woman who knew without it she would be dead--though there were tense moments when she could feel resentment rising within her; when she felt less protected, and more supressed by the constant presence of her large band of guardians; few of whom, even spoke her native language.
On this particular night, at an hour not long after the sun had set peacefully upon the greatest of the free cities, Tristeza felt just such a resentment brewing within her, and, on this particular night, was unable to dispell it.
In an explanation broken by the barriers of language, she explained to the captain of her guard that she would go for a walk along the seashore, and please, to let her go unaccompanied. She promised to wear a disguising cloak, and to leave through a servant's entrance, so as not to be recognized by any foreign spy watching the palace. Her guard begrudgingly consented, after quite a long altercation, in which she proved thoroughly unmovable.
Covered in a thick, maroon-velvet cloak which fell long over her legs and feet, and hung low over her face, Tristeza Martell departed the Sealord's Palace by way of a small servant's entrance, more alone than she had been in months.
Though two of the Sealord's guards followed her (at the very least, though these were the only two she could readily identify), she was confident that she could lose them, given only a few moments time.
This was her goal for a small while, before she noticed third and fourth anonymous figures recurring throughout her perambulation; men whose shrouded figures she was unable to recognize. They were short, and quick, and agile, as they moved between bustling merchants, never seeming to look at her, or even in her direction, but always moving ever nearer to her; following her, she realized. As the Sealord's guards faded from her mind, these mystery-men became her primary focus. She wanted to believe they were harmless spies, but the way they moved closer, and closer, gaining ground on her all of the time, made her nervous, and she knew that regardless of their nature, be it harmless, or deadly, they were not people to whom she wanted her whereabouts to be known. This was no longer a childish game of hide-and-seek, but rather, a test of evasion which might or might not cost her her own life.
As the men grew nearer to her as she walked slowly, she increased her pace considerably, not to a run, and, she thought, not perceivably so. She gained ground slowly on the men, who she thought would not strike in such a crowded area, which gave her momentary peace. As she drew just more than a hundred paces ahead of them, she found the perfect oppourtunity to reverse their roles--to make herself the hunter, and they the animals.
To her left, obscured by a large market-place building until one passed it completely, stood a large, splendid tree, which looked to harken back to an ancient time, gnarled and bohemoth as it was. It's branches hung low, no more than six feet from the ground, and its roots housed a cavernous hollow beneath.
She smiled privately, as she rounded the corner at her normal pace, and then, once she was out of view, in the secluded avenue, she burst into a sprint, tearing from herself the velvet cloak, and arranging it quickly in the hollow beneath the tree, and swining herself agily into the branches--she was more than two levels into the thick of the foliage before she saw the figures of the spies round the corner, silhouetted in the darkening night, by the twinkling lights of the city marketplace, which was now all but left behind.
As she watced them, she set herself slowly into a crouch, on a large branch, which did not even seem to feel her weight. She plucked from her side, one dagger to hold in her left hand, while her right hand steadied her against the enormous tree-trunk.
They stood still for a moment, seeminly relluctant to continue, for they both had lost sight of her, and there were few distractions in this small alleyway for either to hide behind.
After barely a moment, the first continued quickly into the avenue, which was not too long, and surrounded by large buildings on all three sides apart from the side upon which they had both entered. He glanced through archways and small gangways that lead away from the avenue, and finally, his posture suggesting disbelief, approached the tree. The second, began to search the doorways thoroughly, and looked into each window he passed. She held her breath, and sat completely still, as the wind stirred the leaves around her, and her hair around her face. When the first man stood immediately beneath the tree, he looked up for only a moment--she could barely see his form, hidden was it, more by leaves, and darkness than by branches.
He went into a crouch then, and peered into the hollow; suddenly, he paused, his muscles stiffening clearly, even from this distance she was at. He reached, with a great effort into the hollow, and as his arm was fully immersed in the great tree, Tristeza dropped, catching herself momentarily on the one branch immediately below her, and then falling gracelessly onto the man who had followed her.
He looked up when she hit the branch, shock and disbelief written clearly on his features, but he was in a poor position to react physically, and could do nothing but fall backwards as they collided.
Already on top, and more prepared for the collision than the man had been, Tristeza thrust her eager dagger, no less than a beat after their initial contact, into his throaght.
The second assassin had turned as he heard her drop, and approached her quickly. They circled for a moment; he was armed with a dagger slightly larger than hers, and he brandished it angrily at her.
She was more than his match, but tired as she was, he landed to wounds upon her, one light, and one slightly deeper, in her side.
Though Tristeza fought hard against the second man, but ultimately, he fled the courtyard.
Results:
Tristeza advances to: Grandmaster Dagger
Tristeza advances to: Expert Stealth
The nights were pleasant in Braavos; far nicer than the days. The smell of the ocean so near to the Sealord's palace was comforting. It had the same thick scent as the air which wafted through the veranda doors of Sunspear's Royal Solar.
There was a time, Tristeza remembered, as she stared through a set of imposing guards out of her chamber window, when she would have been able to enjoy the night air comfortably, without the ominous presence of so many silent sentinals.
At any given moment, within the Royal Braavosi Palace, anywhere between fifteen and twenty guards were within her immediatey vacinity, waiting with keen eyes and baited breath to thwart an attempt upon her life, or an attempt to kidnap her.
Though she was grateful for the protection, and on most occasions, accepted it graciously, as a woman who knew without it she would be dead--though there were tense moments when she could feel resentment rising within her; when she felt less protected, and more supressed by the constant presence of her large band of guardians; few of whom, even spoke her native language.
On this particular night, at an hour not long after the sun had set peacefully upon the greatest of the free cities, Tristeza felt just such a resentment brewing within her, and, on this particular night, was unable to dispell it.
In an explanation broken by the barriers of language, she explained to the captain of her guard that she would go for a walk along the seashore, and please, to let her go unaccompanied. She promised to wear a disguising cloak, and to leave through a servant's entrance, so as not to be recognized by any foreign spy watching the palace. Her guard begrudgingly consented, after quite a long altercation, in which she proved thoroughly unmovable.
Covered in a thick, maroon-velvet cloak which fell long over her legs and feet, and hung low over her face, Tristeza Martell departed the Sealord's Palace by way of a small servant's entrance, more alone than she had been in months.
Though two of the Sealord's guards followed her (at the very least, though these were the only two she could readily identify), she was confident that she could lose them, given only a few moments time.
This was her goal for a small while, before she noticed third and fourth anonymous figures recurring throughout her perambulation; men whose shrouded figures she was unable to recognize. They were short, and quick, and agile, as they moved between bustling merchants, never seeming to look at her, or even in her direction, but always moving ever nearer to her; following her, she realized. As the Sealord's guards faded from her mind, these mystery-men became her primary focus. She wanted to believe they were harmless spies, but the way they moved closer, and closer, gaining ground on her all of the time, made her nervous, and she knew that regardless of their nature, be it harmless, or deadly, they were not people to whom she wanted her whereabouts to be known. This was no longer a childish game of hide-and-seek, but rather, a test of evasion which might or might not cost her her own life.
As the men grew nearer to her as she walked slowly, she increased her pace considerably, not to a run, and, she thought, not perceivably so. She gained ground slowly on the men, who she thought would not strike in such a crowded area, which gave her momentary peace. As she drew just more than a hundred paces ahead of them, she found the perfect oppourtunity to reverse their roles--to make herself the hunter, and they the animals.
To her left, obscured by a large market-place building until one passed it completely, stood a large, splendid tree, which looked to harken back to an ancient time, gnarled and bohemoth as it was. It's branches hung low, no more than six feet from the ground, and its roots housed a cavernous hollow beneath.
She smiled privately, as she rounded the corner at her normal pace, and then, once she was out of view, in the secluded avenue, she burst into a sprint, tearing from herself the velvet cloak, and arranging it quickly in the hollow beneath the tree, and swining herself agily into the branches--she was more than two levels into the thick of the foliage before she saw the figures of the spies round the corner, silhouetted in the darkening night, by the twinkling lights of the city marketplace, which was now all but left behind.
As she watced them, she set herself slowly into a crouch, on a large branch, which did not even seem to feel her weight. She plucked from her side, one dagger to hold in her left hand, while her right hand steadied her against the enormous tree-trunk.
They stood still for a moment, seeminly relluctant to continue, for they both had lost sight of her, and there were few distractions in this small alleyway for either to hide behind.
After barely a moment, the first continued quickly into the avenue, which was not too long, and surrounded by large buildings on all three sides apart from the side upon which they had both entered. He glanced through archways and small gangways that lead away from the avenue, and finally, his posture suggesting disbelief, approached the tree. The second, began to search the doorways thoroughly, and looked into each window he passed. She held her breath, and sat completely still, as the wind stirred the leaves around her, and her hair around her face. When the first man stood immediately beneath the tree, he looked up for only a moment--she could barely see his form, hidden was it, more by leaves, and darkness than by branches.
He went into a crouch then, and peered into the hollow; suddenly, he paused, his muscles stiffening clearly, even from this distance she was at. He reached, with a great effort into the hollow, and as his arm was fully immersed in the great tree, Tristeza dropped, catching herself momentarily on the one branch immediately below her, and then falling gracelessly onto the man who had followed her.
He looked up when she hit the branch, shock and disbelief written clearly on his features, but he was in a poor position to react physically, and could do nothing but fall backwards as they collided.
Already on top, and more prepared for the collision than the man had been, Tristeza thrust her eager dagger, no less than a beat after their initial contact, into his throaght.
The second assassin had turned as he heard her drop, and approached her quickly. They circled for a moment; he was armed with a dagger slightly larger than hers, and he brandished it angrily at her.
She was more than his match, but tired as she was, he landed to wounds upon her, one light, and one slightly deeper, in her side.
Though Tristeza fought hard against the second man, but ultimately, he fled the courtyard.
Results:
Tristeza advances to: Grandmaster Dagger
Tristeza advances to: Expert Stealth