Darkness is a thief's best friend. Particularly when said thief is wearing a long black cloak around his shoulders and a dark mask with a long bird's beak that made him look like a demonic bird of prey.

Unfortunately for Jakkin Dreydan, the sun was shining brightly, the weather was warm, and it was a beautiful day.

Despite the uncooperative, day, Jakkin was trekking forwards purposefully towards the city, rather impatient for night to fall. He had his plans laid out- exactly what he wanted to steal, who he'd sell it to, even which entrance to the lord's manor. Tonight's job would be child's play.


Cyprus leaned back against the rough bark of the willow tree. From his perch near the tree's canopy, he could spot any irregularities in the forest from miles away. His pale blue eyes systematically searched the shadows between the strees, latching onto what appeared to be a small patch of mobile darkness. His only response was to draw his bow and nock and arrow to its string, then, resting the bow against his thigh, he leaned back and blended into the treetops.



Chryson wasn't supposed to be there. He had left, anyway, ignoring the High Council's mission for him and going where he wanted: to the first world, to see if any Goa'uld had managed to survive there. He'd already found no threat in Egypt, so he came here, where he infiltrated the local government's headquarters and set himself up to scout. But that could wait. For now, he just wanted to take a walk in the woods.


Cyprus straightened and drew his bowstring taut. The strangely clad figure who emerged from the trees frightened him and he loosed an arrow towards the creature's head, aiming slightly to the left. The goose-fletched shaft barely missed, embeding its point in the trunk of a broad oak tree. He pursed his lips and whistled one note, so low it was barely audible, and then turned his watchful gaze on the underbrush.


"Holy gods in the heavens, what was that?!" Jakkin's voice, in contrast with his high-and-mighty demeanor, was really very funny. In one swift movement, he drew the short sword from his side, eyes darting back and forth behind the eyeslits of his mask. He frowned, trying to pick out the sniper among the foliage. That had been more than a little embarrassing. "Come on, you coward!" he shouted, glad that his blushing face was hidden behind the mask. "Show yourself!"


He launched into a flat-out run just before the curve in the widely-traveled road, and Enitan scolded him, it presented an oppertunity for a foe to find a moment of unguarded weakness, but as he had done before, Chryson ignored him... mostly. He'd consider it more later.

It took eighteen quick strides for him to find the source of the shout: a dark-clothed, masked figure holding a sword. Confused, he reflexively rested his hand on his holstered weapon, hoping he wouldn't have to draw something so foreign here. He hadn't yet found a bladed weapon to blend in with the locals.

Cautious to keep his voice down, he wondered, "Did you require assistance?"



Upon hearing a second voice, Cyprus nocked a second arrow to his string and loosed it towards the strangers, once again missing by a hair's breadth. Holding a third arrow in his clenched fist, he shimmied down the opposite side of the trunk and crouched, using the tree as his shield. He threw his voice so it echoed indiscernably around the trees. "Leave this place."


Ignoring for a moment the stranger offering his help, Jakkin barked back at the sniper, "Make me! I'm coming through here whether you like it or not, so stop shooting the bloody arrows!" On a roll, he turned to the newcomer, eyes blazing. "No I do not require assistance! I require... um... not being shot at in the first place!"


Chryson raised an eyebrow. "You seem to have the situation well enough under control," he observed sarcastically. Holding his breath and silently motioning the perturbed, masked man to be still, he glanced around in the woods, relying on his memories.

For the many centuries between the birth of his people and his birth, the queen who bore him had been learning much about concealing herself and finding those who didn't wish to be found, and she had given him that knowledge. The fact that Enitan was a tracker helped, too.


Cyprus sighed. Some people just couldn't take a hint He tugged at the leather thong that held his henna red curly hair in a manageable ponytail, then straightened his ragged black cutoffs. He nocked the arrow and drew back the bowstring before stepping into view. "Last warning."