The assassin threw up his hands as Tobias ran at him, a stolen knife in each hand. The rogue slammed the ends of both daggers on each of the man's temple with the crack, his foe's eyes rolling back in his head as he collapsed to the ground. Tobias still wasn't executing prisoners like Sana Arrow-Eye, the splitting headache and... potential brain damage the man might suffer notwithstanding.

Tobias turned just in time to see a figure running at him from out of the mists, brandishing a shortsword. Tobias sidestepped the overhand chop but wasn't able to avoid a punch in the jaw that sent him reeling. "Little bastard," the man said, spitting on him.

Tobias looked up and realized the man was vaguely familiar. Evidently, the horseman had dismounted to attack on foot, realizing that another mounted charge would spell the end for the comrade shackled to his horse.

Tobias tottered to his feet and threw a dagger, missing by a mile. His second dagger came as the man was charging him, and though it caught him in the shoulder it barely slowed his furious charge. Tobias dove out of the way a second too slow, and the blade painted a red line across his back. Another scar for the tapestry.

Tobias landed hard and tried to scramble up, to no avail. His enemy was on him, the sword descending, and the rogue was bum out of tricks. Well, save one. The rogue closed his eyes and poured the vial of silvery liquid into his mouth.

The blade stopped mere inches from his face, and a perplexed expression spread across the would-be executioner's face. Tobias rose, cautiously, and took a step away from the man as he looked left and right, wondering where his quarry had gone. Calmy, Tobias moved behind him, threw his arms about his neck, and squeezed.

When the man's struggling stopped, the invisible rogue took a deep breath. Pain and fear began to reassert themselves as adrenaline faded - his wounds burned all across his body, his head pounded, and he could barely stand straight. Limping, holding the cut in his shoulder, he staggered through the fog. "Sister Agnes! Sister Agnes!" he called faintly, rubbing dirt on his face to make the outline of his transparent visage visible.