Blood of the Nile [MISSION]

A great swath of sand stretched from East to West, an unending sea of scorched barren plains and mounds of dead particles made so by the dryness of the arid Egypt. Land of the ancient Pharaoh's of old, and chiefly hated by the Ionic Greek that by Pyrrhus. He ventured into these lands as he had a mirror at hand, looking at it as he kept tabs on everything. Dwelling into enemy territory had meant he mustn't even be taken at a surprise, and honestly he isn't. He easily talked his way through the airport in taking accordance to every probability possible, and banked on it. Miraculously getting on board despite a faulty passport, which wasn't even his, but vaguely resembled him as to cite this thing the modern people call "cosmetic surgery", distorting the birth face of a human into a desirable look as to achieve it all for vainglorious ego.

He wore the Egyptian Arab garb, nothing like ancient Egypt, but its tan color made good in camouflaging at the sands, and his appearance could easily pull off the native man's look despite his clear Greek persuasion. Bio-diversity is quite a good thing in this age, though he could only get off in speaking the tongue of the Persians, he luckily got directions to Al-Fam as-Sihr, but that was the local name. The knowledge granted to him was the original name was nothing more than Pharaoh Tuthastinra's tomb, an obscure leader that died long ago, he could remember that man from the stories Herodotus gave in one of the scriptures he read. He made sure nobody was following him, and they haven't. Maintaining an extremely low profile aside from an academic interest, given he was treated as nothing more than a person of Arab stock despite his Greek origins.

Making his way towards the mount, the fringe of the village at the edge of a mounded hilly sand, crawling down as he placed his belly on the sand and looked from the edge, he gazed to see every single aspects as to realize many of the sorcerers were asleep, with only a few on guard duty. Realizing by probability on how they are in fact very much vigilant than he realizes. He saw that in one probability, there was one path where no guards would realize his presence as he would retain his stealth, and took it. Doing exactly as he has seen in his vision, and sprinted his way to the village wall. It took place at the same time as the sentries turning, and he made sure not to run wildly lest sand sprays upwards from the sloped mound leading downwards.

Spoiler:

They were unaware of their doom the thirty some magicians in the village. Three were on guard duty that night, and one was busy studying the shield they kept safe. It was tied to their lives intrinsically and when they died it would be removed. Oh well, such was fate and truly were the lives of thirty fat, bloated selfish decadent mages worth the world?

Regardless none of the three guards would see Pyrrhus enter the village, truthfully they were more cautious about some super coming in guns blaring than someone trying to sneak inside the small group of buildings. One guard picked his nose while twenty six mages slept on their large beds protected in their houses. The mages spent all their magical power on the shield so none of the houses had any traps or defenses, it was a slaughter waiting to happen.

He needed something sharp, really sharp, to kill those morons without a problem and stealthily too. But how will he do this without much of a problem?He dwelled around and about, using his eyesight to realize if he'd be spotted or not, and honestly the way sentries operate, most likely they'd be keeping an eye for the horizon rather than an eye for the inside of the village, not to say that they were defenseless. The wall he was at had a window, an open window, which is basically just a square hole, but is called a window given it has wooden frames around the stonish material to house the mages inside sleeping their way. Peeking through, he saw a couple of probabilities of him being discovered given the contents in the house, so he banked on the most efficient one where he WON'T be discovered, and started prowling the insides.

Subtly he stepped through the window, doing exactly as he banked on the probability of not being discovered. Soon brandishing a knife from the silverware of the table inside the housing unit that be this place, looking around as he realized who was most likely to awaken and went on an order of priorities. The first one he aimed at the evident neck of the mage who was the lightest sleeper, foreseeing that he will no doubt be shocked but the way he would actually sink it down would rip through his vocal cords, only emitting quiet gurgles. Were such an endeavor to succeed, he gazed behind to find the other mages in the house, continuing the order of the process on the most efficient way of silently slaying them and where to strike, with his mystical eyes revealing all there is to know about what it is to achieve. This house probably had about six people given the size. He gazed upon the mirror with one hand and hand a knife in the other that would be bloodied by the kills of the mages.

The pain, he felt it as the cold steel pierced his neck his warning yell turning into a soft whisper, the mage knew then that his companions were doomed. The rest of the mages fell easily but as Pyrrhus got to the last one there would be a sound, someone he didnt see until she entered.

A poor girl, who could not have been aged above six years, she was dressed in a white night gown and held onto a stuffed bear.

D-d-daddy?" she whimpered before she began an ear piercing cry.

His eyes shot towards the call of daddy suddenly, the wailing of the child could be foreseen with the visual optics envisioned such manifest and realized into his cranium neural network origin. Without a moment a do, he bursts towards her and calculatingly braces his knife end towards her throat, those accursed vocal cords of her's, his aim posed and true as probability dictated exactly. There was nothing to say of this, it merely had to be. Nothing more, nothing less. A result spurred forth merely because chances could not be taken for whichever reasons that may be, and hers is that of the siren's call. A price paid not to be. Mirror glanced should have given him the perception to visualize what is behind him. although as he held it out originally. His full weight would act as to impose on her, going upon the will of flooring her to the ground and minimizing struggles at maximum efficiency, whilst keeping the pressure on the child.

"SERVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVED." He whispered.

The whimpering was enough to wake the final mage who witnessed what the man was doing, but instead of crying out he simply sat up in the bed. Transfixed as he was by the horror that was in front of him, a horribly awful act even if it was done with good reason. The needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few.

In the other buildings the mages slumbered on, and the three guards would soon be returning to the inner part of the village to switch duties with their sleeping brethren. Still muttering and murmering the one working on the shield sat unmolested at the center of the small town in those wind swept plains.

A carrion circled overhead as if knowing what was about to happen, did it have the same power as Pyrrhus perhaps? No it was simply a normal animal looking for scraps left out by the mages, but on this night it would find more than just scraps.

The mage on the bed while he did not stir shouted out telepathically to the one working on the shield. While the one at the shield was not one well versed in telepathy he would hear the voice.

"Whatever is Rodger doing up at this time of night" he asked breaking from his spell for a bit to turn to the building that the mage slumbered in, seeing nothing out of the ordinary other than the open...wait the door was open. Getting up the mage would turn towards the building and go towards it to shut the door, this was no doubt the cause of the flash of concern Rodger gave him. Silly Rodger.

There was some little room he didn't notice, as far sighted as Pyrrhus was, as he glimpsed around suddenly to see if there were anymore presences that may interfere. He made sure to grab the girl and slid her towards some corner. The red carpet that had blood on it would make the blood look nothing more akin to but a stain of water or the like, it's not really notable and is perfect for camouflage. For now, he has to make for hasty disposal as things are going to fall apart quickly as he can guess, his eyes were blind to such things, save for the mage he glimpsed with an unslit throat, he knew him awake.

The probabilities pointed to his own self-awareness in every way, but he had one way to prove something despite not having been trained for it. It was a very unusual thing, using a kitchen knife like this, but analyzing EVERY PROBABILITY about it, he correctly held the kitchen knife in a specific way, and flung it towards the man's throat in a perfect pose, knowing it to actually strike true and in fact impale his vocal cords as to make him dead and silent with naught but gurgles, having thrown it from across another room that is in clear view from another framing. Before sinking back into the shadows of the night as this house was very dark with not even a moon to illuminate much. He won't chance this, the man was awake, the fact he was pretending to be asleep had meant he has done something. Those sorcerers are not trusty folks to rely on deception and treachery as their ways of winning.

Such a throw was not in view of the door leading outside, in fact, nothing was in view of the door which should be behind Pyrrhus. The girl taken to a corner camouflaged by dark shades. Pyrrhus hid for a while too in the dark shades, waiting for any presences to linger before he would chance this. All were out of view for now, and relied on the element of subtlety, the girl herself had roused caution in the normally aggressive Pyrrhus.

Walking up to the door the mage would simply shut it without walking in, at the same time Rodgers call ceased. Satisfied the mage went back to his duties with a smile.

When the door closed, he moved towards the frame that is basically a hole in the wall often dubbed window, and popped out of it. His eyes shoot left and right realizing the landscape and the meta-physical probabilities that would afflict him so, banking on the one maintaining such stealth unto the next goal in mind. But previously before such endeavor undertaken in haste, did he move onward to the dead man, and pulled the knife out of his throat. Lacing back and forth the smear of blood on the mage's dead corpse pyjamas, he went over to the child and carved her open in one fell swoop, exposing her bare breasts of flattened unappealing sights to behold. The knife drew a lined slit exposing the gaping innards that be her organs, dipping his hand inside he pulled out the child's small intestines, and cut it with due speed.

And so back to the present, the sand muffled the sound of any foot steps, he ran to the next house after pocketing the small infantile intestines, going through the house window, he has done so the same process as before and started plunging his blade through the order of that which are the highly likely to awaken were he to kill the compatriots, to the last being able to realize his presence the least in such a heavy sleep they bask. The modus operandi remained the same, the probability made manifest in what succeeds him so most in the stealthiest manner of a house filled with ten. Room to room he dwells, mirror at hand as not to get jumped like that orphan girl he plunged his piece unto her throat. Truly, aware as he were, as to eliminate all of them in due time.

The mages were quickly slaughtered as not another slip up occured, however in the other building one of the guard mages was returning to his bed where he would re-open the door much to his horror.

"Attack, there's been an attack!" he would yell alerting the other three guards, forteen of them were already dead but sixteen of the mages remained and already the one working on his shield dropped his work and went into the building lamenting and pulling his hair out at his own stupidity. The yell awoke six mages, the rest of whom slept still soundly. Those six mages were rubbing the sleep from their eyes at this very moment.

The shrieks were close by that fouled his ears with the incessant lamentation that be coming with death most mundane. Perhaps they were merely dead because of erm... desert syndrome? Right, if only they fell under the realization it is pretty common disease to have your throats slit by the desert winds or something as improbable or unheard of as it was. But alas, such quandaries affect not their way of thought and life, as the guards only roused and served to attain the attention of the very good guy Pyrrhus. Obviously the hero in this case given his pedigree in heroism. Sort of.

CRAP CRAP CRAP. Thinking fast... AHEM, THINKING FAST.

"Oh right!" Thought fast Pyrrhus.

He saw a closet, and opened it. There were no man-wanters inside of faggot disposition, but there was some ornate mage clothing and it had a veil of some sort for the face. He stripped off his bloodied garments and put on those raiment. Fixing it upon his face, he burst out of the building, face covered and darkness obscuring his features, as he runs outside and screams, "SHE IS HERE! THE ASSASSIN IS HERE!" He starts jumping around stupidly, usually that's how alert people that are freaking out do it, given he was outside the building. And he starts running around the whole place hollering at the top of his breath for intruders all over the place, but smartly given his massive intellect and phallus, he made way for the most probable location with the rest of the mages whilst heading inside the building whom they slept at. Having hidden the bloodied knife in his pocket, and holding out a mirror as to realize his probabilities from all degrees.

He sprints into the building, but quiet this time, looking for the rest of the sleeping mages as he would repeat modus operandi but apart from dousing his clothing with the blood of his victims for the greater good. Making sure to repeat and rinse, albeit taking care to make sure he would not be noticed. When one yells for an intruder, the first spot in mind to head to is outside as to stay in plain view.

Quickly the guards gathered and poured into the building Pryyhus exited from and looked around at the destruction, this was bad...real bad. The four of them gathered together and began to chant before one went over and slowly went to open up the door. By then Pyrrhus would have killed the other sleeping mages, all of which were in the building he had just entered. Two of the awakening mages were also in that building but were quickly slew as they tried to shake off sleep's effects.

By now the four other mages who awoke from their tents poured into the building that the other mages had assembled in.

"She's not in the closet anymore!" they were greeted with and as one single unit eight mages went back outside into the middle of town looking around for some sort of clue as to the assassin's location.

*Pyrrhus

The knife was bloodied with desert syndrome. Under such dreadful effects, he stained it clean of any of the blood upon their threads of their clothing. Wiping it as easily given the skills he has with cleaning a weapon. Years of training by wiping a bloodied sword with a handkerchief had made Pyrrhus expert in cleaning weapons from blood. Now under normal eyes, one would just imagine it to be merely cleaning, but that were not true. Hygiene is a skill in itself only heroes are worthy of learning to the highest extent. With his weapon cleaned, he hid the in his pocket, and held his hand inside with it grasped with careful emphasis as not to suffer his wrist slit like them throats.

Heading outside, he runs to the group that were gathered in the middle. Having earlier pulled back his sleeves not to reveal his great dark muscles, but just to feel the desert breeze. Right. He quietly looked through such probabilities to realize one of the mages actually lusted for... goats? Wait, what? Shaking of such nasty mind rape, he walked into the middle, and suddenly the hottest flames burst from inches ahead of his skin in all 360 degrees SPECIFICALLY at the mages, whilst he held the mirror. Having taken the probability which is the stealthiest and most unrealized of the true Trojan horse in their midst. Aye, a Trojan horse, not a Russian horse Catherine would suckle upon. Each mages were targeted by Americanitus, which was where Americans would invade a place with oil fields, and naturally fire follows suit. Usually happens in desert environments. The hot hell-fire twice as furious as the initial one as to melt stone now made double. Jesse! Ja-- I mean lots and lots of fire.

((Pick a name that doesnt confuse me as much next time!))

"Oh thank god another-" the words were cut off and turned into screams as the mages not focusing on spells at the time were incinerated to a one.

-Mission Complete-