Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-3293219-20140323001956/@comment-5735114-20140328234047

After about half an hour of ‘mere wrist movements’, the shadowy assailant could finally feel his bonds loosening a bit. The sign that he was making progress gave the assassin some confidence, and he kept at it with a restored energy. He also started to struggle with his legs as well, though made sure to be more careful so as to keep the chair he was sitting on upright.

''Damn these ropes… who needs ropes this thick!? ''

Continuing to struggle, the assassin could feel the ropes loosening; with every movement, a little more slack was added, a little more progress was made. Eventually, the assassin managed to loosen the bindings around his wrists enough to move his arms a significant amount, which were previously pressed to the back of the chair in his unfortunate position.

The thick ropes around the assassin’s wrists eventually fell to the ground, letting him sub his wrists to try and relieve the rope burn that had quickly developed. Now reaching down, the assassin grabbed the knife that was trapped under his boot and quickly sliced apart the bonds confining his legs to the chair.

Standing up and stretching, he felt the soreness that came with sitting on the same hard, wooden chair for who knows how long. Walking slowly, the assassin got to his stuff in a dark corner of the room and changed into his leather armor, complete with ammo pouches for the pistol he took as well. Lastly, he took a small metal box full of many small objects, though it was difficult to tell what they were.

Slowly walking outside the long-abandoned wood mill, the assassin squinted at the sunlight that burned his eyes after so long in the dark. Seeing that his captors seemed to enjoy taking the law into their own hands, the assassin felt that his shadowy cowl was no longer needed. Pulling it back, the assassin felt the warmth of the sun intensify as the shadows drew back and it hit his pale skin. The face to which it belonged to was of a Bosmer, with short brown hair and pure yellow eyes. Reaching for his back pocket to pull out a map, the Bosmer assassin came across a note. Scowling, he pulled it out.

“Dear Sir/Madam

We know.

Head to F.F. SW of C”

''Sir… or madam? Think these guys would know how to tell the difference…''

Upon seeing “SW”, the Bosmer quickly reached for his map again. After unfolding the old piece of parchment, the assassin studied it carefully. He decided to try Chorrol first, as it was the closest “C” city to the Imperial city of the two. His map was hardly labeled anyways; he’d figure out the “FF” part when he got there.

Folding the map and placing it into his back pocket, the Bosmer began to look about the area, looking for an exit from the Imperial City.