Chapter 0 - Brandon

She takes it happily, locking up the cases at the stand, and skipping off back towards the house. "So, do you want me to go in first and tell him you're here, or bring him down for you, or...?" she looks at you, her eyes soft and warm.

"Go and bring him down." Brandon replies. Still conflicted.

"Do you want me to tell him it's you, or should it be a surprise?" she asks, unlocking the door and stepping inside.

"Let it be a surprise." Brandon replies. "I'll be outside." Waiting for Kira to go through the door to fetch her father, Brandon finds a nice place to hide.

(OOC: Hide out of plain sight, Stealth check)

She nods, grinning, and runs up the stairs. A few moments later, she comes down with him in tow. He's not visibly ill, but he hasn't kept in good shape in his old age. He looks around, and her face falls.

"Well, what did you want to show me?" he demands impatiently.

"I don't know where he went Father... he was right here a moment ago!"

Brandon studies the man intently, as to be able to pick him out at a later date; waits for them to leave and then finds the best possible stakeout spot. Waiting for him to step outside.

He tells his daughter to go back inside, closes the door, and begins strolling up and down the streets, looking into back alleys and the such, obviously a little paranoid.

Brandon takes off in the opposite direction, attempting to avoid detection. Returning later, he takes up the best position and waits for nightfall.

(OOC: Find place with best concealment, wait for darkness. Could I get a description of what he is wearing?)

The sun goes down, yet the noise doesn't... nobody wants to sleep this week. Eventually, one by one, all the lights in the windows go out, except for one, in what you remember as being his bedroom/study.

Taking aim at the door, Brandon flings his dagger as hard into the door as possible; then readies his bow.

(OOC: I'm not sure what I use for attack rolls; or if this would even classify as an attack roll.)

(OOC: Attack rolls for projectiles are d20+1/2 level + dex mod. But no, no roll required for that.)

A short while later, the door opens, and he stands there wearing a nightgown and carrying a cane, as if he could fight someone off with it. Looking around worriedly, he pokes his head out the door.

Brandon grins, whispers "I've got you now, you fucker." And lets loose two arrows.

[OOC: Hunters Quarry on Merchant, Twin Strike.

First Arrow
1d20 → [17] = (17)+ 3 Dex + 2 Weapon Prof + 1 Prime Shot = 23 to hit first arrow.

1d10 → [3] = (3) + 3 Dex = 6 Damage + 1d8 → [7] = (7) Damage from hunters quarry = 10 Damage for first arrow.

Second Arrow, if needed
1d20 → [7] = (7) + 3 Dex + 2 Weapon Prof + 1 Prime Shot = 13 to hit

1d10, 1d8 → ([6 Arrow ], [3 hunters quarry]) + 3 Dex = 12 Damage second arrow.

If necessary, use AP to do Evasive strike
1d20 → [19] = (19) + 3 Dex + 2 Prof + 1 Prime Shot = 25 to hit evasive strike

2d10,1d8 → ([8 Weapon, 8 Weapon], [8 Hunters Quarry]) + 3 Dex = 27 damage Evasive Strike

And get the hell out of there! Get to the edge of the forest as soon as possible.

(OOC: Sweet jesus.)

The man is a bloody mess, the arrows tear right through him, breaking bones and shredding muscle. Needless to say, he collapses in a heap. The night is cool, yet lively, and the area won't be safe for a while. No matter, there are plenty of crowds to blend into.

Stripping off his leather Armour, he folds it lovingly into his backpack, discards his dagger holster into a particularly fast moving brook. Using the blade from one oh his arrows he carefully scrapes the remains of facial hair off of his face and adjusts his dress uniform. Unfurling his bedroll, he consumes the loaf of bread and passes out close to the city limits on the opposite side of town; content in his safety that only years spent in the wood can give a man.

The next day opens bright and warm, birds singing, as if they too were taking part in the festivities. If anyone is upset by the loss of one of the wealthiest men in town, nobody's being too vocal about it.

Grinning maniacally, Brandon makes his way down to the feats of skill. Striding purposefully in his dress uniform.

"I know what you did last night." a voice rings behind you, cold, and penetrating. "Does the blood of the guilty taste any sweeter than that of the innocent?"

Turning around, Brandon looks for who is speaking. Still, an unmovable grin on his face.

The man is hunched over, wrapped in a cloak, and slinking towards an alleyway, an arm held out invitingly. "Well, does it?" he hisses.

Brandon's eyes go wide as he slinks towards the old man. His grin growing to that of a Cheshire cat.

"It's like fucking for the first time." He hisses.

He rises to his full height, dropping the cloak. Before you stands a man with dark skin and darker hair and eyes. "As I understand, it didn't take very long at all." he grins back. "I've a proposition for you. Care to listen?" he says, sitting on a barrell.

"Does the first time ever last as long as we want?" He chortles.

Brandon's eyes then pierce the man, his grin disappearing.

"I am a man with no ties left to this earth." He answers back, striding band and forth around the width of the alley. "I am a man who was tossed away by those I considered friends." Looking around the alley, furtively he replies. "I am a man who seeks to right all wrongs." His grin, returning once more.

"But better yet, I am a man who just loves to kill."

Sitting against the wall, mimicking the mans posture and vocal inflections he responds. "What might there be for a man like me?" He asks with unintentional rhyme.

The man grins even wider. "You, sir, are exactly what I'm looking for. If I could give you a license to kill, under the condition that you always kill those I tell you to, and never kill those I tell you not to... the rest are up to you... would you consider?"

"It would depend on who you are, stranger." Brandon replies, then standing up. "If you are the forces of good, or what this society deems as good; then the answer is yes. However, if not... I'm sure you're aware of what this one can do."

"What if I told you I worked for the High Prince? Would that change anything?" he says, pulling a medallion with the insignia of the royal family on it from a pocket inside his shirt.