He looked down at his feet. The forest floor was covered in needles; the cushion they formed made it easier to creep closer to his prey. The crescent moon's light shone between the branches of the pine trees, giving the forest an erie casting of light. Every hair on the back of his neck stood at attention. He began to move forward, when to his right he heard the snapping of a twig. He swung his head in the direction of the noise, and was pleasantly surprised to see his hunting partner Eldon moving between the trees, too.
Suddenly, the silent air was separated by the sound of an arrow being loosed. He dropped to the ground and rolled left, as the arrow missed it's mark and burrowed it's head deeply into the bark of the pine to his right.
Eldon heard the arrow miss it's mark and slowly drew back his crossbow, the poison tipped missile set lightly between his fingers. Within less than a second Eldon's arrow found it's mark; the neck of the unsuspecting Djillen, who was looking toward Barthan.
Djillen's hand shot to his neck, but by the time he grabbed the shaft the poison had already reached his heart and begun it's death march. Djillen didn't have a chance to let out the scream that had formed in his throat.
Barthan ran forward and grabbed Djillen as he fell. His quick hands searched beneath Djillen's cloak for the item they came looking for. The jeweled Dagger of Da'ran was not to be found.
Barthan cursed his luck. He and Eldon had followed Djillen from the caves for days. Their informant had assured them the dagger was on the person of Djillen. They had paid good money to the Dwarf; Marwag had told them that Djillen had stolen the dagger from the altar of wood elves. Gold was not easily come by during the Dark Days, as it was generally hoarded by the kings or melted down by the clerics to adorn their ritual icons.
The dagger was lost...
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