Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-5824038-20141217155427/@comment-4363162-20150121043116

The man shivered in the harsh, biting wind. "How long is it going to take for those damn thugs to get here...." he swore, wrapping his cloak tightly around his body. The wagon he was riding carried firearms and ammunition for a bandit cache. He'd earn quite a pretty penny for this job; if he came back alive, that is. In the distant mist, the glow of lanterns and fires pierced through the cold darkness.

"They're here," the man said, seemingly to no one. He raised his hand. The scarred and disfigured face of the bandit leader emerged from the mist. Following him were four more bodyguards, equally gifted by Kyne with the features of trolls having fallen from a thousand feet. All of them wore menacing snarls, their bodies covered in mismatched steel and dwarven plate, loaded pistols in their hands.

"You have the goods, I see?" The leader asked.

"Aye. Twenty flintlock pistols, each in operable condition. A hundred fifty and two small boxes of ammunition, and five sacks of black powder." The man replied.

"Good. Now get out of here."

"Excuse me?"

"We're bandits, we outnumber you five to one, we have guns and you don't. You should be smart enough to figure it out...."

The man grinned.

"I thought you were smart enough to figure it out, too."

He brought his hand down, pointing towards the bandits. The universal symbol for fire.

One of the bodyguards started to raise his pistol, but before he could even line down at the man, his head exploded in a burst of white hot bone and burning flesh. He was rapidly followed by the second and third bandits, smoking stumps remaining where their ugly heads had once been. In all honesty, quite an improvement. The fourth bandit thudded to the ground, hit by a pistol shot to the neck.

"Why you little-"

The bandit leader was cut off short with a shot through the brain. The previously outnumbered man holstered his smoking flintlock pistol, wrinkling his nose at the smell of lacerated flesh.

"Good work, Ultima. You can come out now."

The sniper, who'd been hidden in the mist, stepped up. Vacous Nox was strapped to his back.

"Impressive marksmanship, there. And an even more impressive gun. Any chance I could-"

"It's not for sale."

"I see. Here's your payment."

The sniper held his hand out, and the man plopped a sack of coins into it. Without another word, the sniper backed away, disappearing into the mist.