The day of the heist had finally arrived. Huddled in the manor’s library together was the owner of the establishment himself: Bartholow Griffith. His bodyguard: Werzdalvin, and his hired rogue: Juan Damián De Cervantes - fourth of his name.
The three were stood around a large oak table in the centre of the room. The table was covered in various schematics, doodles, drawings, diagrams and stone diaphragms. All of which were somehow related to a one: Darwin Windlenorf’s manor, his servants, guards and the likely location of where he hides his money.
“So, you know the plan, yes?” Juan asked.
“Basically, you sneak in, find the money, get the money, escape, while I wait outside in case you need me.” Wervin replied solemnly.
“Excellent! You have brain like sponge, my amigo.”
Wervin couldn’t help but sigh. He had been so against this robbing business to begin with, and now that he was finally on board with it, he discovered he only coming along as backup. He wondered what the point of all the intense training he had been doing these past nine days.
“Will you quit looking so miserable!” The philosopher huffed. “Did you really think I’d send you inside the place along with Juan, just because he taught you a bit about to sneak and pick locks?”
“Well, not when you put it like that… It’s just-”
“I know - I know. Your role may seem insignificant now, but if anything goes sour, you may well be the only thing that can save this mission.” The philosopher's words surprisingly helped Wervin feel better about the situation. Albeit, marginally.
“Now, get something light to eat and prepare your gear. You two leave in half an hour.”
The two employees did as they were ordered and left the room.
Wervin was in his room preparing. He had just finished eating the smoked sausage and apple he brought upstairs with him.
Laid out on his bed in front of him was his coat, his knife, Juan’s cane - since his broke in training, a small pile of rocks, a brown wool cloak, a brass pocket watch, one plain wooden mask, a tattered top hat, and a rucksack.
He strapped the knife into his lash belt, put on his cloak, filled its front pockets with rocks, placed the cloak, mask and hat in the sack, grabbed his comrades cane. Completely prepared, Wervin headed downstairs and waited.
“What took you so long, amigo?!” Juan asked from the bottom of the stairs, as Wervin walked down them.
“I thought I was early.”
“Well you’re not, let's be off!”
The two hurriedly left the manor; walking side by side to their goal.
With nothing to do for the moment, Wervin appraised his companion. Juan was dressed in a stereotypical English gentlemanly fashion. A black suit with a white shirt, white gloves,no top hat or cane though. At his waist was a rapier of common design, and an expensive looking flintlock pistol. Wervin wished so childishly that he had some kind of firearm.
* * * * *
In a short twenty minutes, the two reached their destination. Wervin was relieved that there was a lack of guards, compared to his previous visit to the manor.
“Now what?” Wervin asked.
“Now the fun starts, amigo. Find somewhere in shadows to watch for trouble. Remember, don’t intervene, unless you see they chasing me, you know I have been caught, or I give you the signal.”
“Fine. . .” He said begrudgingly. “Good luck in there, mate.” Wervin said, suddenly sounding a lot more serious.
The Spaniard grinned. “Do not worry, amigo. I have done worse than this a many a times, and don’t forget. I am the best.” He stated, with a grin so wide, it threatened to wrinkle his entire face.
Wervin couldn’t help but smile warmly at his new comrade in return. The two clasped hands and went on their way.
Wervin quickly lost sight of Juan as he ventured into the shadows. Mimicking his mentor’s actions, Wervin placed himself in an alleyway, clung to the walls and became one with the darkness.
When he was sure he was alone, he opened his rucksack and equipped the contents. It was his idea to wear a disguise, for it would be unfavourable for them if someone recognized him if he had to fight.
His attire made him look like a stage magician of poor income. The wooden mask on his face lacked any design, except for the lazily painted white that covered the wood.
He had to stop himself from frequently looking at his pocketwatch. It had been around twenty minutes since the heist began, and Wervin was getting anxious.
He wasn’t sure how long something like this would take, but as he went through steps that would have to be taken to complete this task successfully in his head. He wouldn’t be surprised if he was here for hours.
Over and hour had passed since he lost sight of Juan. Wervin’s eyes only left the manor when he could no longer resist looking at his watch.
His heart almost stopped when he saw two guards converse with each other. He couldn’t help but think they were talking about how they killed an intruder. Breathing deeply, Wervin tried to calm his anxiety. It was going to be a long night. . .
* * * * *
Another forty minutes passed, until Wervin was confident the guards had discovered his accomplice. What made him so certain of this, was the ringing of bells, scrambling guards, and some bloke repeatedly yelling “INTRUDER!”. Wasn’t Juan supposed to be good at this kind of thing?
For now, Wervin remained in the shadows, waiting for some kind of signal that he should join the fray.
His signal finally came when he saw a silhouetted figure run past one of the manor’s large windows, quickly followed by a bunch guards brandishing a variety of weapons.
“Juan!” Wervin cursed under his breath. With no idea on what to do, he did the only thing he knew how, fight.
Wervin sprinted and climbed the manor’s wall in one fluid motion. He charged like a bull at the guards that were now in front of him. They didn’t even notice him until he was upon them. One made the mistake of turning around, his neck was completely defenseless from the masked the stranger. Wervin thrusted his cane into the man’s Adam's apple, killing him almost instantly. The deceased wasn’t even able to muster an audible protest of his unplanned execution.
Without giving his foes a chance to recover from their surprise. He slammed his cane into one of the still breathing guard's jaw, and stomped on the other’s knee. The one with the now crushed knee fell to the floor, allowing Wervin to easily to bring his wooden shoe down on the man’s head.
He had managed to kill one guard and render two at least unconscious in the span of three seconds, but he knew it was going to be a different battle from now on. Wervin had now lost his element of surprise and the remaining guards were in front of him. All aware of his presence, and ready for it. It was unfortunate for him that the closest enemy was at least fifty feet away from him. It was even worse that some of them were wielding muskets.
Just before they could unleash their barrage of lead pellets at the masked stranger, he dove behind a line of large ceramic plant pots, his body now hidden from their sight.
Wervin felt the pots beside him explode from the impact of the miniature cannon fire. One of the lead balls brushed against his shoulder, luckily the pots had absorbed most of its force. All it did was burn a tad, and give him a superficial cut.
Wervin thanked God for the slow reload speed of muskets. Unfortunately he had no idea how many had actually fired their weapons - not to mention the guards with swords and cudgels coming towards him.
Dawning on the conclusion that fighting at this exact moment would be nigh suicide, Wervin once again jumped over the garden wall - vanishing into the night. He prayed that the guards were foolish enough to follow him.
It seemed his prayer had been answered; he heard a sympathy of enthusiastic stomps of men, encumbered by armour and weapons. Wervin ran down the alleyway he had just moments ago been hiding in, and waited.
He heard the footsteps slow and attempt to muffle themselves as they grew closer, it seemed they weren’t complete idiots.
“Why are you taking so long little ones? I’m right here. . .” Wervin asked the men as he appeared from around the alleyway corner. Using the most deep and menacing voice his throat could muster.
The two men at the back of the group aimed their muskets at the masked stranger instantly, but they did not fire. For they could not. They had foolishly allowed themselves to be corralled into a roofless tunnel. Their comrades blocking the target.
Wervin couldn’t help but smirk behind his mask, as he watched the realisation of their mistake appear across every man’s face. Using the moment to his advantage, Wervin made the first move.
He lunged forward and stabbed the butt of his cane into the man closest to him. Twice in the past ten minutes, he had felt and heard the gross squelching sound of a crushed Adam's apple, he suppressed a grimace. With one now down, there were six left, Wervin remembers seeing more at the manor, but he guessed that some stayed behind.The front four men charged at the him with unsuppressed rage.
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Wervin whipped a rock into the face of a man with a spear, seeing him as his biggest threat. The spear-wielder filched as the rock ricocheted off his cheek bone. Wervin used that opportunity to swing his cane upwards into the man’s chin. Brittle bone shook from the force of the blow. Before the spear-wielder collapsed to the ground, a guard leaped at Wervin, holding his sword above his head like an ax. Without missing a beat, Wervin pulled back his cane and fired it into the man’s stomach, winding him and making tumble to the damp ground. Wervin released the knife from his belt-sash with his free hand, as he was about to jam it into the winded man’s neck, another guard lunged at him with surprising speed, forcing him to jump backwards. He fell into their trap. . . The one who had forced him back dove to the ground. The two guards at the back with muskets brandished now had a clear shot at him. Unable to dodge in time, Wervin felt a powerful blast penetrate his stomach. He forced the bile that appeared in his throat back down. Wervin felt the electricus coursing through his body leak through the hole in his stomach, tickling him at an inappropriate time.
The guards that now had smiles plastered on their faces, believing they had won this fight. They certainly didn’t expect the man they just shot to charge at them with such speed and ferocity, they began to doubt if they even hit him. Maybe he just faked it. . .
He hadn’t of course. However, for someone like Wervin, who had been shot, stabbed and bludgeoned countless times, not to mention his new lightning laced flesh, a single pellet in his belly was nothing. He placed his knife into the armpit of the man for forced him backwards. He withdrew the iron blade with nothing more than a slight ‘plop’ sound. The two with muskets didn’t bother to reload, instead relying on the spike bayonets fixed to the barrels of their guns. Judging by the way one of them looked at their gun, and the lack of a second hole in his body, his musket must have misfired. Wervin threw his knife into the shoulder of the left guard, causing him to drop his musket in an agony of overworked nerves. The other guard thrusted his bayonet at the masked stranger, but was dismayed when it was effortless parried by his cane. A second later, he saw nothing. For Wervin had cracked open the man’s skull with his cane, using it in a way a blacksmith would strike molten metal on his anvil. He took the knife out of the shoulder of the remaining guard, and casually rubbed it against the man’s jugular.
Allowing himself a minute to catch his breath, he inspected the cane given to him by Juan. He was amazed to find the stick didn’t have a single scratch, nick or dent on its body. Wervin wondered where the Spaniard had found such a study piece of wood. Wervin cleaned the blood of his knife and place it back into his sash. Deciding not to waste this opportunity to procure a free weapon, he began looting the dead.
With the excitement of a child in a sweet shop. Wervin wished he could spend a hours on this foul dead, alas, his friend was still in need of his assistance . The only weapon he looted was a worn-looking broadsword - that lacked the typical basket guard on the hilt. Wervin lightly ran his gloved finger across the blade, and gave it a few practice swings. The blade had been poorly maintained, but it was still sharp and made of good quality steel.
Content with his new weapon, he took of in a sprint so he could once again be of use to the mission. He almost regretted not taking a musket with him, unfortunately the awkwardness of carrying and reloading the gun, outweighed its use.
For the third time, Wervin climbed Darwin Windlesnorf’s garden wall. Which was a lot harder this time due to the fatigue of battle, and wielding two weapons in both hands.
The two guards stationed at the front door noticed the masked stranger as soon as he was over the wall. Luckily for him, the two lacked a ranged weapon of any kind. The two were unsure of what to do. They saw this strange man run away, chased by six of their comrades, and now here he was again, holding a sword that looked familiar to the both of them. Their fear of their boss barely managed to win their fear of this man, but win it still did. They held their ground, clasping their decorative spears with white knuckles.
Wervin boldly walked casually towards the men. An act used to intimidate them, but also because he still had yet to catch his breath. His stomach was becoming heavy and poisoned by the lead that now lived in it.
He was now about ten feet away from the door guards. They had the advantage of numbers and reach, but Wervin could see the way they held their spears, they had little training and were terribly frightened.
“Run now and I shall not pursue, little lambs. . .” He told them, using the same deep scary voice as earlier. He saw that in there eyes they so desperately wanted to do as he bade. Yet their bodies remained fixed. Either they were too scared to move, or this Darwin fellow was more fearsome than he realised.
Wervin took a large step forward and the two stabbed the tips of their spears in response. He easily sidestepped the attackers and slammed the handle of his new broadsword into the back of the skull; of the man on the left. A hair of a second later, he struck the temple of the remaining man with his cane. The brave guards now laid still upon the ground they were paid to protect. Wervin hoped they didn’t die. He deliberately dealt them non-killing blows. He had no qualms about killing, but killing a a of no qualms, who didn’t want to fight, would leave a bitter taste in his mouth.
Now that the area around Windlesnorf’s manor was empty, Wervin was unsure on what to do next. He was reluctant to go inside, encase he got lost or even captured.
It seemed that fate was kind to him at that moment. For a young maid was unfortunate enough to peer through the front door at that time.
“I heard noises is everyth-” A nervous sounding girl said behind Wervin.
He whirled around when he heard the voice. The girl screamed when she saw the bodies on the ground and the tall masked phantom, brandishing weapons in front of her.
The girl slammed the door shut, unfortunately for her a cane blocked the door from fully connecting with its frame. Wervin lunged forward and swung the door open. He let go of the cane; grabbing the terrified maid before she could run away.
“What happened to the intruder?” The masked man growled.
The girl was about to scream in response, Wervin clasped his hand around her lips before she could do so. Her eyes bulged and watered when she felt one of oxygen pathways had now become blocked. He pretended not to see the wet stain appear on her dress, nor smell its birth.
“I don’t want to hurt you, girl. . .” He told her, using his masked voice in the friendliest way possible. “But I will if you try to scream, run away, or fail to answer me. Nod if you understand me?”
The girl froze for a moment, before furiously shaking her head.
“Good… I’m going to let go of your mouth, and you’re going to answer my questions. You’ll know what will happen if you don’t. Don’t you girl?”
Once again the girl nodded furiously. Wervin took his hand away from her mouth.
“What happened to the intruder?” He asked her again.
“T-the intruder. . . Um, he. . .He escaped. T-he guards chased ‘im, but he jumped out a window. . .And vanished. . . I swear he did! Sir! He did!” She stammered.
He looked into the girl’s eyes for a hint of betrayal, but alas saw nothing but fear. If she was telling the truth, he had killed all those men and got shot for nawt. Wervin couldn’t help but chuckle, which terrified the girl even more. “Thank you, girl. I believe you, but I’ve been fooled before. I have this time. . .”
“I’ve t-told you the honest truth I ‘av Sir ! I swear on the g-good Lord ‘imself, I do!”
“Fair enough… You can go now. Get yourself cleaned up. And would you be so kind as to wait a minute before you told anyone about what you saw outside. . .”
Before she could say anything, the masked man grabbed his cane, ran through the door and disappeared into the night.
* * * * *
Wervin arrived at his master’s house two hours later. He took so long to get there, due to sneaking through forgotten alleyways, encase anyone was still searching for him.
As soon as he walked through the front door, he heard a familiar voice yell from the kitchen. “What took you so long amigo?!” The annoying accent asked.
Wervin walked into the kitchen and stared at the man sat at a table in front of him, who was happily tucking into a steak pie. “I saw you being chased through the window, so I charged the guards, hoping I’d distract them so you could get away.”
“Ah. . . That explains why they so suddenly stopped chasing me when I jumped out of the window.”
“What, no thank you? I fought over ten of the bastards. Not to mention got shot in the stomach, made a poor girl wet herself and had to spend hours sneaking through gutters to get ‘ere!”
“You’re right, where are my manners. . . Would you like some pie?”
Wervin stared slacked jaw at the man, sighed, then sat down. “I’d love some.”