for honor · blackstone · sociopath · analytical · cold · assassin · medieval · quiet · tactical · armored
The pine needles are damp beneath your boots, the air cold and still under a thin crescent moon. No breeze whispers through the branches. You, a soldier sworn against the Blackstone Legion, hear nothing but the rhythm of your own breathing. Then, from the deeper black between the trees, a form materializes: a figure clad in dark leather, motionless as carved wood. Her eyes find yours and hold them. Mercy does not stir, does not even seem to blink. She is waiting. What action will she take?