Death Lotus

As the sun began to set, the solitary figure perched on a tree branch and surveyed her surroundings. A thick fog enveloped the woodlands at this time of year, perfect cover for her current operation. The air was thick with cloying moisture, due to the heavy rainfall overhead, not that much of the water was making it through the thick canopy of leaves above. Outside the cover of the trees a blistering storm was raging, blanketing the entire forest in a distraught howling, as if a banshee was wailing. The conditions of the locale could not be any more perfect for carrying out an assassination, so why was there something …off about the whole situation?

The woman perched motionless upon the branch of a mighty oak was none other than Katarina Du Couteau, eldest daughter to the Noxian general Du Couteau. She had always had a certain…fervour when it came to killing, but that couldn't explain away the unease she felt this time. Touching a hand to the scar covering her left eye, she remembered the mistakes of the past that she had vowed not to repeat - remembering not to let her passion for the job get in the way of her sworn duty as a Noxian, her sworn duty as the daughter of the infamous general Du Couteau. In her head she counted of all her blades, tucked away in several nooks and crannies on her person. One, two…fifty-four, fifty-five. Good, all there. Her preparation was complete, all she had to do was wait for her target to pass by, although he was behind the schedule she had received. She made a mental note to hunt down the worm who had given her this information; if it was faulty it was of no real use to her. Her thoughts quickly snapped back to the present situation, it would do her no good to get ahead of herself now.

Despite the raging squall airing its grievances to the world, Katarina could still focus her hearing on the immediate vicinity; one of the many perks of her long and arduous training. Whether a result of her training or natural survival instinct, she was aware of a gentle rustling of leaves that was certainly not caused by the wind, which brought her attention to a sharp focus. Her target was the leader of a tiny yet fierce Freljordian tribe, and was supposed to be riding along the beaten path through the forest, so why was something creeping about close to her position? The rustling was progressing slowly towards her from the other side of the tree's trunk, so it surely could not be an animal. Had she been in Kumungu she would have surmised it to be a tiger or a cougar, yet here in the southern reaches of Freljord that was not possible.

She had been set up.

For a brief moment she cursed herself for being foolish, of course the lowly worm had given her false information. But this was no time for berating herself, she had to act. Fast. As the gentle sound steadily progressed closer she became acutely aware of the rustling coming from several directions. The sly dogs were approaching from every direction, and she was trapped. She dared to sneak a glance around the side of the tree trunk, and could make out the faint silhouettes of several warriors through the murk and fog. Her eyesight was far above average, so if she could barely see them she had a few moments to prepare to fight. With the grace of a cat, she swung off the branch above her head to the tree next to her, getting a more elevated position. Putting more branches between herself and them would provide cover if they all had bows. "Who am I kidding, they all have bows…" she muttered to herself. Readying her main daggers, she lowered her body close to the gnarled wood, preparing for a fight. If her early observations were correct, there were at least 15 warriors from the Frostclaw tribe approaching. Glancing around from her new vantage point, she ascertained the specific numbers of the strike force pursuing her. Four to the North, four to the South, five to the East and two approaching from the West…well that made things easy. Her plans were made, the conditions were as good as they were ever going to be. This was where the fun began.

Time to give them a Noxian welcome.

Leaping from her vantage point, a quick slash as she fell, followed by a pirouette and a discreet thrust dispatched of the two western warriors. Now that she had broken the circle, she could have a bit of fun. Wiping the blood off her daggers on the foliage, she kept low and circled around towards the South of the ring of warriors. Her exquisite technique had dispatched the first two silently, so the small band spaced a few metres apart had not yet caught on that their number was decreased. She readied two more daggers, and picked up the pace, keeping low and avoiding large patches of brush to avoid drawing attention. She could see that they were all still scanning the treetops, evidently looking to catch a glance of her. Fools. Using a fallen log as a springboard, she sunk two daggers into the first two with a quick throw, then took the third of the men with her landing. A satisfying squelch erupted from the man as she plunged her third dagger into his throat, and a quick flick of the wrist sent the last man to meet his maker.

Six down, nine more to go. Removing her daggers from the limp corpses left to fertilize the woods, she focused her attention on the group to the East. The eastern section of the woods had thinner trees, so here she had to rely on the fog as cover. Timing her movements to remain undetected, she thanked her good fortune that the storm and rain masked the sound of her footsteps. The oafs from Freljord clearly could not compete with the finely tuned senses of an assassin. The circle was getting dangerously small now; they would soon notice something was up. As this group was the largest of the bunch, Katarina decided that she would have to abandon her purely stealthy approach and opt for something a little more…grandiose. Readying an assortment of small daggers, she waited for them to take a few steps forward, their attention still rooted on what was above them. Throwing one dagger at a tree trunk a few paces behind them, Katarina quickly darted back towards the center of the circle, sliding under a fallen tree trunk and pushing down to perform a quick handspring over a rock not too far from them.

Their attentions had quickly turned to the sound produced by her dagger implanting itself in the wood, and she planned to use this to its fullest.

Throwing two daggers high up into the air, she leaped behind the back of the first man and slit his throat as she span, immediately turning her attentions to the others. Sweeping the legs of the next man put him on his back, leaving him vulnerable to an unwanted hole in the middle of his head. By this point the remaining men had noticed what was happening, and raised their voices in anger. Ducking under the clumsy swing of the closest, Katarina made a swift incision in his chest, then kicked him backwards to stagger his remaining comrades. Although she could have backed off, she used this chance to jump off him, grabbing the two daggers from before and delivering the final blow to the two helpless Freljordian's below, as if her daggers were a thunderbolt from the heavens. She didn't have time to savour the moment though, as a loud horn blast erupted through the woodlands.

The final group had clearly heard the Skirmish, and the horn blast meant reinforcements.