Vex fumed. That elf was good. She had lost sight of him and now- she admitted ruefully as she stared across the vast expanse of desert- she had lost track of him altogether. Somehow, without her realizing it, he had escaped from the caravan he (and she) had been traveling in and was making his way unaided across the desert. If she didn't come from a fiercer place than this Vex held no illusions- she'd be dead. That he could survive quite so long without prior training was a miracle.

She looked to the looted water in her hand and shrugged. The caravan could starve for all she cared. Looking back out she pulled the cloak over her head- it was nighttime and despite the heat of the day, the nighttime chill was deadly. She longed to go to sleep and wait for the heat of the day where she'd be more energetic but knew she couldn't. She had a job to do. The elf needed to die by the end of the month and they had contracted her- the Drunken Harlot as she was being called- to put an end to his ugly mug. It had been a long and fruitless chase and now that she was so close- she had lost him.

She grinned. A hunt like this was all the more exciting. Licking her lips she moved on, hoping to catch a whiff of her prey.

Kite wasn't a mercenary, nor was he a hired hand. Yet here he was, flying across this sandy terrain in regards to a 'mission'. B.A.D.I. felt that Kite would do well to accept gold in return for his services to other mortals. He didn't want to break his creed to the guild, so he swallowed his pride and went along with it. After all, he was a newly joined member, of course he'd be stuck with the lowest mission. He was to follow a caravan through the Anfauglir Desert and make sure that a particular elf wasn't attacked. A diplomat of Ondolond from what the records showed.

Things had gone wrong. Kite hadn't taken the mission seriously, so he had lingered back. That's when all hell broke loose. One of the assassin's had been on the caravan. By the time he realized what was going on, it was too late. The politician had teleported out of the caravan and into the desert night, with a cloaked figure following their trail with amazing speed. Kite had followed the pursuit, leaving the caravan and the remaining mortals to their own problems. His sword was drawn and he was ready to take out the assassin. All he needed to do was catch up.

Cocking back his left hand, Kite let his fingers spark with electricity, before tossing a bolt of lightning at the cloaked figure. They were farther ahead, but the speed of the attack would make distance unimportant. The bolt slugged into a sandy dune a few inches from the person's foot, leaving the area a nice, glassed over spot. They had been lucky for Kite's Lightning Bolt to miss. It usually never did.

"Halt, assassin! The next shot won't be so easy to dodge."

OOC: I'm assuming wings were used for flying. If not, just pretend her demonic nose caught whiff of something vaguely angelic.

IC:

"I knew I smelled something foul." Vex said conversationally as she stared across the sandy dunes. Beneath her feet she could feel the heat from the now glassified sand. It was a pleasant sensation but she knew she didn't want it repeated on her body. That would immensely suck. Immensely, immensely suck. She had been hit by lightning while flying across a story sky and that experience- while interesting- wasn't one that bore repeating too many times. It wasn't terribly conducive to one's health and such.

Her opponent was an angel. She considered trying to weasel her way out of it but then realized that her instinctive reply to his demands had already rendered that a moot point. If he was fooled after this he'd *have* to be beyond retarded.

She remembered just how smart the last angel had been and shrugged. It was worth a shot. She was still disguised and unless he could detect demon-kin (which happened with an increasingly depressing regularity these days) he couldn't be *sure* she was the right assassin person. Angels tended to be a gullible stock anyways. When they weren't killing and burning demon-kin that was. Bloody, high-falluting bastards.

"And by foul I mean surprisingly angelic," she said truthfully. "I'm pretty sure you have the wrong person. What sort of an assassin would carry a mace?" She asked tapping her weapon.

With the folding of his large, ivory-colored wings, Kite descended quickly into the sandy ground beneath him. It was hard to gain proper footing in such shifting sand, but he held an intimidating figure nonetheless. Almost as quickly as they had come, Kite's wings vanished, and he looked upon the cloaked figure with obvious scorn. From their voice, he judged that the person was female, and held no true...'evil' tone to their voice, but her first phrase made Kite wary.

"If you are not after the Elven Diplomat, then why are you the only uninjured member of the caravan? Not only that, but why were you chasing after him? Explain your motives or I will slay you under the jurisdiction of the Bureau of Abyssal Defense and Investigation." Kite said, his eyes narrowed as he sheathed his two-handed sword. He kept his hands open, however, in case this being attacked him.

She was right, though, in one aspect. Assassins did not use maces. They used small, sharp weapons to leave fatal and almost indiscernable wounds on their victims. You cannot exactly bludgeon someone secretly. It was almost impossible. Not only that, but the wounds inflicted by a mace was always a clear indicator of the cause of death. An assassin's job is to leave witnesses in the dark while getting the job done. If she was indeed an assassin, she was doing quite a poor job. Then again, who could anticipate an Angel being on the scene way out in the desert?

"Elven what now?" Vex asked, truly bemused. She hadn't realized that there were two targets on board. Hers was definitely not a diplomat- a fat, deskworking pig certainly couldn't outrun her- not in the desert anyways. The one hunting him must have been a complete novice- how hard were diplomats to kill anyways? She had gutted one herself during one of her earlier jobs and it wasn't terribly difficult. Steal a knife from the kitchen, enter the sleepy-place of diplomat and slice and dice.

Then she started laughing uncontrollably. No wonder her target was acting weird! She and another assassin had switched roles-! Tears of mirth ran down her eyes, ruining her perfectly construed make-up. She hoped that, at this distance, it didn't show but then just got annoyed. She wasn't here to make nice with the angel and now that she knew her prey wasn't actually in the darn desert anymore (probably some bloody digging spell or who knew what) she pulled out the mace.

"You talk big Mr. Angel-pooh. Not all of us like that." Twirling the mace around idly she considered simply throwing it at him and hoping it beaned him across the face (shattering a jaw would be a 20-pointer) but didn't think it would be awfully likely. "Dunno what you're talking about, but not all of us go around 'slaying' others just because they happen to like keeping quiet about how they survive where stupid people don't. So why don't I offer *you* something you bloody dove-wing? Get out of my way and I won't slay you in the name of all the dead stupid people. Devil knows they deserve it."