Exit Gajol, Enter Jemm'bo
"Come on you orc fuck, you're slowin' us down!" Xarvir's shrill voice pierced Jemm'bo's ears despite the hushed tone he spoke in. The tiefling had a wild grin on his face as he messed with his comrade. Of course, slow and steady was often the best way to handle these sorts of missions. They both knew that. But that wouldn't stop Xarvir from giving his old friend a hard time.
With a swift movement Jemm'bo rolled in front of Xarvir, a hand placed to the sheath at his side to keep it quiet. He gave the tiefling a mostly blank look, save for a slight smirk, before turning back to the task at hand. A sound in the distance alerted them both. Instantly their backs were pressed to the crates they'd been hiding behind. Ears pricked up as they struggled to make out the voices drawing nearer.
"Can you believe the boss? The Prince of Shadows... The Prince of bloody Shadows! He's scared of an old fairy tale! I tell ya, Ronnie, sometimes I can't believe I got myself into this mess. To be under the command of a loon like that, thinkin' he's gonna get whacked by a children's story." Two burly men walked by, each with sword at their backs. One was rambling incessently, as the other walked along in complete silence.
Xarvir and Jemm'bo gave each other a knowing look. The target order would be easy this time around. Hand signals were passed back and forth until the plan was completely laid out. With a nod, the two were off.
Jemm'bo slid over a crate, landing softly on the other side. He crept along, lurking in the shadows, until he was close enough to see the stains on the rambler's shirt. His green fist raised into the air and gave a sharp twist, telling Xarvir it was his turn.
The tiefling lept to a nearby rope, scampering up quickly. A crazed glean entered his eyes, and his mouth remained in a large smile. In the darkness, only his sharp teeth gave away his position. When he was sure he was out of the thugs' line of sight, Xarvir threw a small stone off in a corner of the warehouse.
"Aye, what was that?" The yappy thug said as the stone bounced along the floor.
"I'll check it out. Stay here, I'll be back in a minute." The quiet thug spoke his first words of the night, and began walking away. The other thug tried to follow, but the quiet one insisted on going alone. It was clear he just wanted some peace and quiet, if only for a few minutes. Just as Jemm'bo and Xarvir had hoped for.
The thug made his way over to the corner, looking for the source of the sound. Seeing that he was out of sight of the other thug, he took a seat on a nearby barrel. "Finally..." He muttered. It would be the last words he spoke, as Xarvir dropped down and snapped his neck in one clean motion. His hand shot up, signaling that his part of the plan was complete.
Jemm'bo immediately lept into action. He had been mere feet away from the loud mouthed thug, so closing the distance was trivial. Before the thug could utter a word, the orc had a knife to his throat. Xarvir clapped excitedly and sauntered over, "Good on ya, Gajol! You actually looked like an assassin for a minute there, instead of a big lumbering oaf like usual! HAHAHAHA!" Jemm'bo shot his friend a dirty look and motioned for him to lower his volume. "Right, right." The tiefling said impatiently. He grabbed the thug by the chin, "I got 5 bucks on this guy screamin' soon as you press the blade in. I don't trust you to do the job quick enough, let's cut his tongue out to be safe! Ah hell, let's just do it for fun so I can see-"
A sickening schlick of blade on flesh followed by a solid thud cut Xarvir's words off cold. Jemm'bo wiped his blade on the man's shirt and sheathed it without a word. Xarvir whined, "Ah come on! You couldn't even let me have a little fun with him first?!"
Jemm'bo clasped the tiefling on the shoulder, "Come on, Xarvir. Let's get back to the mission." With that he made off toward the staircase on the other end of the warehouse. Xarvir kicked his feet a bit before moving, but eventually made to catch up.
At the top of the stairs the odd duo found a closed hatch. They knew their target would be on the other side. Jemm'bo took out a small, round object from one of his pouches. "I'll throw it in, then we storm 'em." He gave Xarvir just enough time to register the plan before lighting the fuse, throwing open the hatch, and tossing the bomb in.
Smoke billowed out into the room. Jemm'bo and Xarvir listened for coughing. One voice. One older, male, voice. "Got 'im." Xarvir lept up and made for the source of the cough. He was stopped as a rapier came to rest at his throat.
"You are a fool if you think I don't know how to handle an assassination attempt, boy." The man holding the rapier forced out in between his coughing fits.
Jemm'bo pulled a small crossbow from his back and nocked a bolt. "3... 2... 1..." As he finished the countdown, he popped his head into the room and took a shot. The bolt found its mark, landing in the man's neck. He stumbled backward, giving Xarvir time to knock him down. The tiefling jumped onto the downed man's chest, crouching with hands on knees.
Jemm'bo walked over calmly and looked down at their target. He was an older gentleman, complete with gray hair and wrinkles to spare. "Some crime boss you are. No wonder you needed those thugs..." Nocking another bolt, he aimed the crossbow directly between the man's eyes. "The Prince sends his regards." Terrified recognition entered the man's face moments before the bolt pierced his skull.
Xarvir jumped off the man and took a look around. "Alright, let's load up on this intel. You find the shipping dossiers, I'll find out where he's hidin' the loot!" With that the tiefling took to tearing up the room.
It was a solemn orc that stared down at his recently slain target. As blood began to pool around the man's head, Jemm'bo found himself questioning the way tonight had gone. Did all these people really need to die? The stealing he didn't mind, but this killing... It was starting to weigh on him. He pulled his gaze away from the man and began searching for the shipping documents.
"Xarvir... You ever wonder if all this is right?"
"Whatcha mean, Gajol? We got the best gig in all of Eryntil! Stealing from these assholes so the Prince can build up Shadowport. Ain't it great?!"
"Yeah, sure Xarvir... It's... Pretty great..."
"What brings you to these parts? We don't see much of, uh, yer kind 'round 'ere." The old farmer's thick country accent was made all the harder to understand by him talking while chewing on a piece of straw. Fortunately, Jemm'bo had dealt with these types before.
The orc slapped a sack of gold down on the table. "I want some land. Enough for a small farm."
The farmer's eyes opened wide. "Oh that'll getcha some land alright, pal. Now I ain't tryin' to pry or nothin' but how's an orc like you come by money like that?"
Jemm'bo paused for a moment. He looked out at the farmland surrounding him, and finally addressed the farmer, "Done some things I ain't proud of. Lookin' for a fresh start, that's all."
The farmer nodded, thinking he understood the orc's plight. "Well you can have that little plot over there, to do whatcha want with. But iffin I may ask; we gonna be neighbors now, so can I be knowin' yer name? I go by Theodore." He offered his hand as he introduced himself.
Jemm'bo hesitated before grasping the farmer's hand. "I go by Ga- ... You can call me Jemm'bo."
The farmer gave an exaggerated handshake accompanied by a toothless smile, "Jemm'bo it is! Welcome to the farmlands, boy. Might want to keep yer head down round these parts, ain't everyone is as accepting as ol' Theodore is."
A small smile parted Jemm'bo's lips, "Oh don't you worry, I'ma lay real low for a while. Real low indeed..."