Buy Me a CoffeeThe assassin tried for the apparently sleeping wizard with the cat in hir lap. The tiny gnome, a dragon in disguise, seeing the assassin's thin hand said "Ask for help instead, it'll be far less painful, and they'll help you escape your contract." -- Anon Guest
[AN: Whoop. Forgot about Bibrid. He doesn't have to be in every Wraithvine story you know]
With catlike tread, a cautious way Zeb felt. It was pitch black inside the inn when it was this close to midnight. So far, their darkvision was working to turn all the interior into shades of grey. The dagger had a whole vial of Nuruthara in its sheath. An ancient poison against Elvenkind, not used since the last set of Xenophobia Wars petered out.
They still made it, though, for jobs like these. When it was vitally necessary to make sure an Elf died.
Zeb oiled the hinges and the lock of the room they'd been told to enter. Carefully easing the lock into an open position. Equally carefully shifting the door open. Beyond, nestled on the bed, was a seated figure. Pointed ears. Pointed hat. Hands on hir knees and an orb of fluffy cat in the lap. The hat was all patches, and the face matched the picture the Master had let them memorise.
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