Normally he would never think to pounce on so many slaves at once, with no one at his back. Not that he had anyone at his back right now. The Master it seemed, a lethargic elf that had taken to grabbing the smaller woman by the hair and holding here there, was in charge of at least seven or eight other men that helped keep his valuable stock in line. He favored the blonde, and his attention made Theiryk's eyes narrow. His hearing was no less sharp, despite the mangled appearance of his ears as he listened to them from overhead.
Yes, she would certainly be nothing more than in the way, if perhaps he acted too soon. The Master seemed content to punish her, for whatever pleasure that would give him, and in her distress, Theiryk knew he wouldn't have to worry about her for too much longer. The Wild Elf watched a stray slaver snatching up one of the females and dragging her off.
Oh the opportunity couldn't have been more perfect. Theiryk leapt from his place on his branch and sped lightly on the wind, moving from tree top to treetop until Agiov was some distance away, dragging his quarry with him. She fought as aggressively as she could despite the bonds he had left around her wrists, holding them up over her head. She was no match for him, when he slammed her on the ground and rolled her over.
Theiryk scowled from his hiding place, and retrieved an arrow from is waist-side quiver, stretching it slowly in the recurve bow he clutched in his left hand. He pulled it taut, holding his breath, waiting for the perfect second until the man was in no position to alert the others, or defend himself. He watched it fly. In a blinding second the arrow sunk home into Agiov's throat, just as he toppled over the female slave. She ceased her cries for that second, as she was covered in a wave of hot blood that splashed over her. Theiryk moved from the shadow, watching her eyes dart up and all around them, a scream boiling over into her throat, her hand struggling to cover herself at the revelation of a stranger.
But the elf put a finger to his lips, shushing softly in a gesture he knew she could understand. Yet it was too late, and her scream ripped from her throat. Thankfully, Theiryk thought she might do just that and before her scream could fall completely from her lips, it was carried off on the wind, and the air through the leaves and the sounds of animals were drawing closer to the camp. The woman was struck for the briefest moment before suddenly running in her fear, haphazardly away from the camp.
Meanwhile, back within its confines, slop was being served to the slaves, poor stock of little more than lukewarm broth and bread. Ragioh scowled at his doings, but voiced no complaint. Navarre would get her come-uppance soon enough. Among other things, though, where was that bastard Agiov! How dare he let him have to serve these elven scum all by himself, while the others could have their own meal and a pint of what beer was pulled from the wagon. Even that bastard Kreios was knocking back a bottle. Likely something stronger than beer.
Ragioh moved toward the outskirts of the camp, after dropping the woman's bowl on the ground, now realizing she was gone. Agiov always did have an appetite he found difficult sate, even more so on long journeys like this. But he shouldn't've been gone for more than ten minutes at most. It was already going on fifteen. And just as he looked out into the inky night, an arrowhead zipped through the darkness at lightning speed, sinking into his chest and killing him instantly.