The moon's silver light streaked eerie patterns through the sparse cloud cover, bathing the city of Sunberth in a patchwork of light and shadow, ever changing as the clouds moved on the night's breeze. A lone figure sat perched on the edge on the tavern roof, waiting with infinite patience for his prey to appear. The cold didn't bother the man so much, welcoming the way it numbed his body to the pain of sitting so still. To move now would draw attention to himself. He would only move when the moon's light was once again blocked by the devious clouds, or if his prey were to show himself. Lyth loved his work, but sometimes the wait to find his kills in a vulnerable position was...aggravating, to say the least. He was restless, his fingers gently running over the handle of the dagger that was belted to his hip. He found himself nearly willing the man to stumble out in his drunken state, so he could finally move. Even with the cold numbing the pain, he could still feel the burning in his legs as the muscles strained to keep their position. Most would move, or at least stretch. But Lyth had been waiting three days for a chance like this. He'd be damned if he lost his prey because he couldn't sit still. The tavern doors opened, and the young man focused his attention on his target. The man was hanging off of another man, babbling incoherent sentences in his drunken state. Counting to a practiced thirty seconds, Lyth began to follow the two men as they made their way down the mud covered streets, scattering rats in their wake. He was glad for the noise the two men made; it masked his steps and drew any wandering eyes to their boisterous laughing. It made his job so much easier. The two men took a turn down a narrow ally, and Lyth saw his opportunity present itself. Creeping in closer, he was almost right on top of the two men. Which was just what he wanted. Taking a quick moment to judge the distance, his smile pulled wider on his lips, and he stepped off the roof, dropping down on to the man below. His knees pressed down on the man's shoulders, forcing him to fall face first into the street. His friend fell back, taken off guard by the sudden attack, and was too slow to stop the dagger from plunging into the man's neck, essentially decapitating the man. Almost as soon as it had started, it was over. The friend had taken off running, screaming out unintelligible words of terror. Lyth grinned. "Let him make scene, bring in the crowds of mice and men to see my newest masterpiece." He picked himself up off the man before the blood could soak into his clothes, wiping the dagger on the dead man's shirt before sheathing it again. A shuddery sigh of ecstasy left his lips, his eyes turning a shade of deep blue. Restless nature satisfied, Lyth decided to head to The Pig's foot for a quick drink before returning home. He stepped over the man, heading on his way without a look back at the bloody painting he had left on the street. |