The east man laid along the cot and made not a sound as he breathed in the dimly lit room. The candles flames licked the air softly as it it burned and gave off just enough light to see that part of the room, but still partly leaving the other side in shadowy void. Keen eyes watched him quietly, studying him, taking notes, thinking as he did.
The hunter sat in the chair in the opposite corner of the room, finding it relatively easy to see him with the light in the room. It was simple enough to gain access, especially after a few threats were made about some particularly large rodents in the food stores of the small tavern. Suggesting it would be a good idea to clear out the bar and go home early so he could deal with the infestation of filth that had recently dusted in. Now, nothing stopped him from sating his growing wish for his death upon his hands, especially now that he was away from the order.
He smiled as the sleeping man stirred for but a moment, continuing to rest through his itching face. It had been so long since he hunted like this, since he had a challenge. So many boast of their skills with words or threats, puffing themselves with speech instead of skill. It was a whole other thing to do, rather than to speak, especially in this line of work. Drawing to much attention to yourself could be dangerous, so why then would you go boasting about your skills or feats to people who do not need to know, for if they knew you, they would already know and understand why.
Cynraede's mind swirled with questions and thoughts of making him talk, wondering what would be the best way to get his lips loosed enough to start the flow of information. After all, the hunter had taken his fingers on both hands to the second knuckle, it is not as if the man could string a bow, but it wasn't the point, he wanted to make him feel as he made his victims feel. He gripped the chair tightly, just picturing the poor woman he liked being caused pain by this fool, this dead man walking. He shut his eyes tightly, trying to oust the burning feeling in his chest as he knew the anger was rising. A smile streaked across his lips as he stood, his soft cloth boots not making even a whisper upon the floor as he leaned forward and took his index finger and thumb, ousting the flame and standing at the side of the cot.
Yilgtig's eyes noticed the sudden change of light, opening them up wearily as he looked around in the pitch black room, not knowing a pair of eyes watched his every move. He sat up, patting around the small table for a match, striking it upon the table and carefully lighting the candle, illuminating the hulking man that stood over him, he knew who it was and why he was here. Before he could even move, he felt a armored hand move over his mouth and he heard a familiar voice.
"Fairlain sends her regards."
He muttered quietly as he pinched his nose shut, watching him wright for awhile before he stopped flailing and fighting, his movements slowly coming to a halt as the man proceeded to slip into unconsciousness before finally his arms fell limp to the sides and ceased to move. Cynraede picked him up, shoving him through the window and listening to him land with a loud thump and crack. He smiled as he whispered to himself.
"Now I'm going to fix you up so I can break you again. Tisk tisk, and people tell me I am not interesting..."
Cynraede smiled as he shut the door to the tavern behind him and walked around the bar, grabbing the man by the hair of his head and dragging him to the caves.
