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Poet reached into pouch and pulled out her lock pick. It took no time to for her to pick the lock, as it was out dated brittle. Slowly she opened the door and scanned down the hall. Torches lit the darkness, which only confirmed that there were indeed slavers down here. Quietly the lithe assassin moved in the shadows, hugging the walls.

As the hall way opened into a large chamber she could hear the sounds of someone coming down the adjacent corridor. His foot steps were heavy, almost clumsey. When he came into view she quickly measured him up. He was a dark elf, skinny, and weathered. He wore fur armor and carried a quiver of arrows and a crude bow upon his back.

Poet would use this to her advantage. She jumped in quick, rolling her small body into a ball and leaping up under his chin. Her hands had all ready pulled out her twin daggers in a flash. The Slaver was shocked, pulling out a dagger from his waist belt and swinging wildly at the girl. Poet ducked low, kicking him hard in the stomach and knocking the wind out of him. She followed up with a quick slash across the man's throat. Blood spurrted out with the pumping of his heart and spraying poet with the crimson liquid.