((OOC: The murder stroke appears :D The day has been made)) 

Sometime before the men reached into their quivers, loud rings akin to a deafening bell could be heard from within the tavern. It would not be long after, before the door would fling open, and the hired hand could suddenly be seen hurling a blade at one of the archers, who now had been in the process of loading his bow in the direction of the figure on the roof. The blade spun through the air, it's hilt hitting against the side of one of the loading archers, causing him to release a grunted, 'Oof!" and stumble to the side, eventually into fall. The other archer, rather baffled by the sudden occurrence that had just taken place, took a quick and baffled glace at the newly appeared mercenary, before changing the aim of his loaded arrow from the figure on the roof, to the newly appeared figure.

Suddenly, something smacked the man aside the head, less armored and protected than his platemailed, swordsman companions. Upon impact, a loud 'splat' sound could be heard, as the man stumbled to the side. Quickly regaining his balance, he immediately turned his head in the direction where the gooey projectile had flown from, which would reward him with yet another projectile, this time directly to the face, causing another, 'splat' sound. The man, now having a face fully covered in the dark brown substance, raised his hands to wipe the gooey residue from his face. It was mud. In the midst of this action however, yet another projectile made it's vicious descent upon him, this time on the chest, causing him to stumble again. Another would appear, and then another, into what would eventually become a full barrage of mud. The man stumbled upon each impact from the projectiles, into what would eventually lead to a complete fall, as he was completely overcome by the muddy onslaught. There he lied, covered in a gooey pile of muddy filth.

"Behold," Shouted the assailant from above, "Fear the wrath of the mightiest practicer of the magical arts! The legendary, the one and only, Izzey Ius!" The exclamation was one of great pride, as it boasted it's muddy victory. 

It would not the long after that, however, before another projectile in response to hers would would be making it's violent launch towards the roof of the boasting assailant. It was a projectile, much more hazardous and violent than an arrow from a archer; it was a large projectile of blazing fire."Flamma percusserit!" An authoritative voice would exclaim, an unnatural, almost ghost-like echo through the air, as he proclaimed the words of the magical chant. As the flaming projectile soared through the air with a strong scorching sound, aimed directly for the mage on the roof, she jumped and rolled to the side, in a unexpectedly skillful manner, the projectile completely burning right through the roof just a few feet away from her. It seemed that this was not her first experience with dodging such projectiles. The burning force of the flaming projectile was so great, that, rather than setting the entire roof on fire, it burned right through the location it hit, and continued its fiery ascension into the sky, leaving black residue and rising smoke.

"Do not play games with me, you untrained excuse of a conjurerer!"  The Royal Archmage from below would eventually exclaim. "Give me that scroll!" 

At the sound of a sudden inquiry, the scarlet robbed Archmage turned his attention to the mercenary standing outside, who had the longsword lazily situating on his shoulder. His facial expression revealed one of great irritation from the woman on the roof, as he stared the mercenary down for few seconds. "You would protect this lunatic?!" He began, albeit loudly "Do you even know who this bumbling fool is?!"  He continued to exclaim. It seemed that shouting and exclaiming statements very loudly was a shared trait among mages for some reason. 

"I am the greatest mage of all of the lan—"

"Silence girl!" Interrupted another exclamation from the scarlet robbed Archmage.

"Allow me to inform you, of who your ambitious client here truly is! A thief, an impersonator! She boast powers not even her own, powers stolen from the very Adeluna Royal Library, powers stolen from my very own office! Copying and transcribing spells she has neither the skill nor the intelligence to even can comprehend–all in that accursed magic scroll of hers! That scroll holds great danger and destruction in that fool's hands, illegal and forbidden magics man ought to never touch. This self-proclaimed greatest of scholar of the lands is nothing more but a thief and a liar, using spells which aren't even her own!"

"Behold, the jealousy and envy of my admirers!" Proclaimed the orange haired voice again from the roof.

"Five hundred gold, mercenary!" The mage suddenly offered. "Five hundred for this impersonating lunatic's head, here and now! You stand on the wrong side. She offers you nothing but lies and death. Do a noble deed for a city of Adeluna."

Izzey's facial expression looked rather surprised, as the mercenary had sheathed his sword and stuck out his hand in what would appear to be a deal of accepted betrayal, that was, until the mercenary had revealed his true intentions, which would bring a pleased smile back to her face.

The crack of a completely broken and dislocated elbow made a sound and image so disturbing that it even had caused a mentally unstable mage to cringe, "Ewww," She noised in response as she watched the extraordinary display of physical brutality.  The victim would scream in terrible agony, before shortly after being put to silence as his head hit the cobblestone ground. 

The archers had gotten up by now, however, they had no done much but stare in awe at the shocking event that had just taken place. A few citizens were peaking out the tavern, covering their mouths in shock as they witnessed the spectacle that was taking place outside. There was a long silence after the event. All eyes were on the scene of the mercenary. The archers, now without much of a reason to continue pursuit, seeing as the organizer of the pursuit was most likely completely dead, slowly picked up their bows, and began to make a slow and peaceful retreat.

"All hail King Albrecht!" Shouted the mage from the roof, breaking the silence with clapping. One could only wonder if people would now begin to associate the mercenary's face everytime they began to gossip about a disfavored and delusional orange haired mage around Adeluna. Pulling the said 'accursed scroll' from her side satchel, which faintly glowed with a mystical and unnatural aura, she unrolled it, and removed her hand. The scroll, amazingly, remained unrolled in the air, allowing the mage to read over it as she began making movements with both her hands, which both now glowed with a scarlet colored aura in her palms. "Now onward we go king! To legend!" She called, in order for him to come join her on the roof. An abnormal black dot appeared in the air, and began widening in size to form a spreading black ring. Inside the black ring was what appeared to be a reflection of another land, as if looking at it through a mirror; she was opening a portal to their next destination.