(44) - Circle Of Death

Griffonclaw sealed the packages, each containing a leather ball and a scroll.

He had spoken with people about an exercise to increase situational awareness and self-protection, to make them more aware of where they were and what they were doing. The exercise was a game, played with leather balls - but the concept was frighteningly real.

Each of the players had been sent a leather ball, and a target. Their objective was to track and ... well... bop the target with the leather ball, escaping without being seen. If successful, the target of their target would become their new target, until he was left with two people, each trying to mock-assassinate others.

A game.

But one survivor. In the meantime, all those playing would learn more about themselves, about the habits that made them vunerable to a real assassin, to a sniper in the darkness, to a knife in the shadows. Caution and awareness were lifelong habits, and unmeasurable; how many footpads would see them aware and alert, and decide on a less threatening target for that day?

He sent the last package into the mail, and waited.

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Wing hurried through the Trade District of Stormwind. The game was on. The Circle of Death, a contest which pitted the participants against each other, each whittling away at one another until only one remained. He held in his hand the name of his target - Benediction.

Ducking down a side alley, he clambered up a chimney, his fingers finding purchase in the rough-hewn stoneworkings. On the rooftops, he felt more at ease. Less eyes were upon him, and less chance of potential attacks from whomever had drawn his name in the Circle.

Scanning the crowd, Wing blinked in surprise. Benediction! Standing clearly in the open, checking her mail without a care in the world. Ducking low to mask himself from any potential witnesses, he coated a dagger in thick, deadly venom.

Wing peered over the edge, lined up his shot, and threw. Barely a hiss broke the air, and if it had, it would have surely gone unnoticed in the busy trade district. Silently it struck him, burying to the hilt in Benediction's neck.

Barely having time to take her dying breath, Benediction fell to the cobblestone, dead. Death from above. Such was the credo of Wing.

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Breathing heavily despite his best efforts to control it, Wing again looked down at the assassination order. Mav-Jehe.

Of those involved in the game, this one truly stung him. He was compromised already. Mav-Jehe knew he was participating in the game. Mav-Jehe'd even acted surprised when he'd brought it up, as if never hearing of such a thing. When he first read his order, he was both hurt by her deception and proud of her guile.

Unfortunately though, neither hurt nor pride would bring his mercy. He knew his target well, and knew that he would find her on the Aldor tier. Surely the large draenei guards provided her a feeling of security. They were numerous, and quick to dispose of undesirables. Indeed, her surprise was apparent when the leather ball struck her in the chest.

Wing felt neither pride nor satisfaction in this "kill." He hoped the next target would take his mind off of it.

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Wing smirked as he sat comfortably in the scrub bushes of Coilfang Reservoir. He'd executed this plan perfectly. A few slipped tips to the guildmates of his target, and the heroic crew hurried off to the Slave Pens, Dances with Boars at their side.

His smirk turned into a predatory smile as the night elf's head broke the surface of the water. Ever patient, he waited until Dances with Boars joined his companion at the summing stone. The telltale shimmering glow of a summoning portal faded into sight, and Wing let fly, his leather ball striking the elf squarely between the shoulders.

The portal faded, and by the time the hunter had turned to find the leather ball at his feet, Wing had already broken the surface of the water outside.