Still Standing

Can death stand?

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1. Won't go down

 

 

He stood there, ankle-deep in mud. Fingers twitching, seeking the leather grip of his bow. He flinched. Water and cold air pounded against his grey hooded cloak and gnawed at the exposed skin of his face. He reached for an arrow, ignoring his discomfort. He would to be careful. He had been tracking his target for eighteen orbits now, and could not afford to lose him now. 

 

He stepped out from behind his bush, notching the arrow in place. His heart was beating violently under his his leather cuirass, threatening to burst out from his chest. What if he spots me? His head was whirring, he should have taken his shot by now. He looked up. He could see the figure there still, a broad man about two paces tall with longish blonde hair and studded armour. His sword hung loosely from the belt at his side. He hadn't moved. He bent down on one knee and notched the arrow into the bowstring once more, drew it back and fired. 

 

The black arrow flew towards the blonde man striking the target in the neck. He breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank the Gods" he whispered to himself. The assassin made his way over to his victim. That's odd… he's still, just, standing there? He drew his short sword as he approached the dead man, wary now. The blonde man remained unmoved. Slowly, he edged his way towards him, his sword at the ready. He came within a metre and the blonde man had still not stirred. Maybe he is dead after all, just, standing up…? Sword tip held behind the corpses back he slowly made his way around to his front. He gasped. 

 

The lower jaw of the man was missing, the skin eaten away, rotting and decayed, revealing parts of his skull. Every now and again tufts of hair and flaps of dead skin would stir in the breeze as the corpse stood there rotting. It's impossible..

"Is it?" A dark voice questioned. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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