Herrick sat in the arena, watching the two gladiators brutishly wack at each other with blunted swords. The people around him seemed to be entertained, but he very visibly wasn't. He pulled a small gem about the size of an eyeball from his pocket, a small fire raging inside it. He had swiped it from a mage, an almost reflexive move. He had genuinely bumped into the mage by accident, and muscle memory guided his hand to the mage's purse. Both parties had gone their seperate ways, except one of them was now several gold pieces and a fireburst diamond richer. He held it in his fingers, and hs eyes wandered to a beauty of a different calibre. He spotted the noblewoman, lying unamused in her stand, and was intrigued. He put the diamond back into his pocket and watched her from his seat.
After the fight was over, he performed his obligatory applause, and watched with great interest as the noblewoman left...only to come back as a contestant. He had to admit, she fought like a lioness, and looked damn good doing it. As soon as she went on her way, he made his exit, descending the steps until he was on the ground floor.
As soon as he entered the exit hallway, however, his path was blocked by a very familiar looking mage, and two unfamiliar looking bruisers, most likely mercenaries. "My purse. I would like it returned." The mage snarled, a small fire starting up in his hand as the other clenched around a long sword. Herrick eyed the bruisers accompanying the mage. One of them was a beast of a man, about seven feet tall, with a two-handed scimitar. The other was not as impressive, and carried a sickle and a wooden shield. Both men had breastplates and turbans with red feathers coming out of them in a crest-like pattern. "I quite like the diamond, lad. I think I'll be keeping it." He said, and cracked a smile. The mage also smile, and suddenly thrust his hand forward.
Herrick dodged perfectly, the jet of flame flying past him as he turned out of the way. Passers by all screamed and cleared the area, and as soon as the jet of flame passed, the bruisers moved in. Herrick saw the man-beast's downward chop a mile away, and effortlessly sidestepped, jumping backwards as the second swung for his gut with the sickle.
He laughed, and drew his rapier, holding it out in front of him and pointing at the mage, who looked slightly dumbfounded along with the bruisers, but immediately resumed his attacks. A few bolts of fire shot towards Herrick, and he dodged them one by one, raising his rapier to block another downard swing from the taller bruiser. The force of the man's blow forced Herrick to his knees, but even as the man's scimitar pushed against his rapier, Herrick smiled. The man only understood Herrick's sentiment when he heard the clicking of a pistol, and felt something push against his chest. He didn't even have time to widen his eyes before a terrible thundering cracked out, and he flew backwards and collided with the stone wall of the hallway, blood fountaing from a gaping chest-wound. Herrick stood back up onto his feet, twirling the massive dragon-hunting pistol on one of his fingers. The pistol was large, with a barrel twice as long and three times as wide as an ordinary one.
"Would any of you two like to volunteer to go next?" He chuckled, casting an idle glance towards the dead man against the wall and holstering his pistol. The remaining bruiser hesitated for a few moments, before yelling and charging forwards. Herrick parried the man's swipe, and with a flick of his wrist and a forwards thrust, he had thrust his rapier through the man's chest, the magical blade completely ignoring the man's breastplate as if it never existed. Before the man could even think about the rapier hilt deep in his chest, Herrick had extracted it and thrust again, this time puncturing his lung. He repeated this lightning strike twice more, once for the other lung and once for the man's throat.
He let the dead mercenary fall off of his rapier, and looked over to the mage, who immediately started bolting for the exit. Like lightning, Herrick's hand flashed to his belt, grabbed his special dagger, and launched it in the mage's direction. The dagger sunk itself into the back of the mage's neck, and Herrick sighed. He wiped what blood he could off of his rapier onto the clothing of the nearest dead mercenary, although some still remained on the blade when he sheathed it. He looked to his left, and saw a cowering servant.
"You the clean-up guy?" Herrick asked.
The servant nodded slowly.
Herrick tossed the servant a gold coin, and cracked a smile. "Sorry about the mess." He said, and walked out of the arena entrance, pulling his dagger from the mage's neck and sheathing it. It took him a few minutes, but he finally tracked down the noblewoman, and begun discreetly following her down the street, making sure to look as inconspicuous as possible.
