Dusk had fallen as a mercenary detachment settled in for the evening. Most were asleep in ragged-looking tents, while a few were seated around fires, eating their rations and sharing mundane stories Rikkan could not nor wanted to hear. No, only one thing held his interest, and he stood inside a considerably bigger and brightly lit tent, diligently pouring over a map, framed perfectly in the circle of his scope. The man likely was planning a route that moved too close for comfort for the Jezzail's employer. The detachment did not need to be eliminated, merely stalled, awaiting the arrival of a replacement commander, while Rikkan's own allies converged on the small camp. The unit would indeed make fine slaves, or a fine meal if they didn't.

Their fate was not his business, though. A deep breath passes as the rifle levels. No suppressor meant the moment he pulled the trigger, the entire camp would be buzzing, panicked and angry. He would be long gone, however, enjoying a pilfered bottle of wine by the time his vantage point was discovered.

Another deep breath, as the sounds of the night softened, the crudely etched cross hairs settling. No wind to account for made things much easier. One more breath, the only sound in the rat man's ears being the slowed heart beat. The nimble digit curled around the trigger, slowly squeezed, and shattered the evening silence with a peal of thunder. The warp stone bullet sailed through the air, tearing through the commander's helmet. Azhak did not see the resulting bodily damage, as his target's head snapped back. staggering backward into the tent, only his greaves visible in the threshold, prone and unmoving. Distant shouts of mercenaries scrambling from their sleep and their meals for their gear barely reached the jezzail's ears.

The commander remained motionless on the ground in the scope. A passing mercenary glancing inside briefly, before darting off, clearly flustered. That was enough confirmation for the rat man, lowering his rifle and creeping back into the darkness of the forest, the only trace of his presence being the bent grass of his sniper nest.

Skullcracker had struck again.

Forgive the shoddy story attempt :x

Art by  viktria