Sorcerer… Cyborg???

Chapter 157: Pony

Pony gave his surroundings a quick scan, and seeing no one watching him, he dashed after his target. Pony's hands closed into fists, and they began to glow with a milky white light. 

He was longer wearing his horse mask, since he had decided to mingle amongst the locals to trail his target.

Instead, he wore an enormous cloak, with a large hood accompanied by a small scarf that obscured the bottom half of his half. This wasn't uncommon for Ridgeback, since there were many men of status and power who wished not to be recognized when they visited the grimy city.

Pony turned the corner, and where he expected his target to be facing away from him, defenseless, the young merchant stood waiting for him, a sharp pointed dirk in his hand, glowing a slight yellow color. 

"Oh, ****" Pony murmured, as the merchant stabbed toward him, sending a sharp spike of stone flying toward Pony. Pony didn't even blink, he just punched straight out at the incoming spike, and it disintegrated into dust. It came into contact with the light radiating from Pony's fists, the vibrations emanating from his hands causing the stone to crumble.

"Not a good matchup for you, kid. Why don't you just give up here and give me your valuables." Pony mocked the shocked young man, who had probably never seen Pony's unique brand of magic. To be fair, few had seen Pony's unique brand of magic, and none had lived to tell the tale.

"I'd sooner eat dirt than be a coward. Tell me, who sent you!" The merchant spat out at Pony, as he backed away from Pony, towards the wall of the alleyway. The merchant stomped down, causing the ground between them to crumple and shift, but it made no difference to Pony.

"Eating dirt would be fitting for you, mud boy!" Pony mocked the man, doing his best to embrace the young merchant, the more emotional an enemy, the more likely they were to make a mistake. 

Pony's feet began to glow also and practically danced across the shifting and surging earth of the alleyway. The young merchant realized that he was outmatched, and he turned tail to flee, stomping down to create a column of stone that propelled him upwards and over the wall of the alleyway.

"Oh ****." Pony leapt after the fleeing merchant, using the column left behind to launch him over. The merchant was running at a breakneck speed, slamming his fist into the walls of the stone buildings to either side of him, sending stones tumbling loose from the walls, in a feeble attempt to stop Pony from following him. 

"This has gone on long enough." Pony spat, and took on a wide stance, tracking the fleeing merchant carefully with his feet, he sank down low to the ground, and then punched out, his muscles rippling visibly, even beneath the layers upon layers of fabric cloaking him.

There was a loud crack and the merchant fell sprawling forward, and coughed out blood, spraying a red mist out into the air. 

The young man reached out weakly toward his fallen blade, but his insides had been practically pulverized by Pony's attack, and excruciating pain spread out through his body.

Pony shook his head as he approached the fallen man, how had he allowed himself to be so sloppy. This weak little merchant shouldn't have even been able to go more than a few meters before he had taken care of him.

There was a dull thud as Pony finished him off, without a second thought, and began to rifle through the fallen man's pockets. He knew he wouldn't find much, but just as the other members of the Nighthawk unit had been instructed, Pony had also been instructed to do an amateur job of making the assassination look like a robbery gone wrong.

Pony stuffed the contents of the merchant's pockets into his own, and with a quick glance to his surroundings hurting off, into the gloom of the narrow alleyways of Ridgeback. 

While men of status and power fell all across the northern vassal states of the Empire, the men who had planned the events currently taking place sat across each other, in a small tent, with a rickety wooden table between them, a pitcher of wine, a few slices of bread and a few cheeses set out on the table between them.

"It'll be happening now." Anteris folded his arms and stared at the Magic Crystal lamp set on the table, lighting the tent in a warm, yellowish glow. 

"Yes, It'll be another week or so before we even hear whispers of what's happening. And hopefully the Imperial Generals won't catch on for another few months. Enough time for the last few pieces of our plan to fall into place." Tam sipped from his cup of wine, his face frowning in concern. 

"Be honest, Tam, you're more worried about that boy of yours, than you are about everything going to plan. I'm sure it was you who told me of the saying, "Plans are just there, so you have something to do before everything goes to absolute ****." Anteris laughed loudly, unlike Tam, he was drinking straight from a bottle of his favorite Dragon's Breath liquor, and had steadily become more and more rambunctious. 

"Yes, I am, but I swore to myself that I would raise him as my father raised me. Thrust directly into the grinding gears of war, all on my own, without the permanent safety net that most nobles give their children." Tam murmured, thinking back to his own days as a common soldier in the Ursten army, working his way up the ranks. 

"Give your boy the credit he is due. You've seen him in action, haven't you? He'll be a match for those Lieutenants of yours soon enough." Anteris punched the air with his crystal flagon, almost tipping over on his chair.

"You're right, Anteris. The boy will be able to handle whatever comes at him, I'm sure of that." Tam smiled to himself, remembering Kothar's battle with the Wind Mage at the outpost. His son had turned into a fine warrior.