Blades in the Dark
"Funny I don't think we left that window open" thought Whisperleaf. It was the middle watch of the night, and he was standing it alone while the rest of the party slept. Safe in an inn, in a civilized town, you could make the argument that no watch was even needed. But paranoia ran deep among the adventuring party known as The Lord's of Doom. Paranoia that was more often then not, justified. As Whisperleaf turned to investigate the open window, the assassins' struck. Three dark shapes detached themselves from the shadows in which they had been concealed, keen edged daggers were swiftly drawn from under dark cloaks. It should have been an easy kill, three on one, and the Druid still not fully alerted. But the elf's reflexes were honed from many a deadly encountered, and he reacted instantly, instinctively to defend himself. Still, one of the assassins' was faster. His first strike was true, and the Druid screamed in pain as the dagger plunged deep into