Nicoli walked the unblazed trail, he forged his own path when he had to and walked along animal paths when it proved convenient. He had a rough map, if it could even be called that. The map was faded and torn, written on animal skin. Any detail it once held had faded with the passage of time, still it was better than nothing and provided him a general direction. South, south and east. As long as he kept the river to his left and a mountain peak to his right he should come to his destination, if the map was correct.

His form was shrouded by his cloak, which swam with a multitude of colors, the magic of it was such that it could blend in with any natural setting. It wasn't perfect, but with his other abilities and magical items it added to his ability to remain unseen, because the gods knew he wasn't being nearly as quiet as he would have liked to have been. The thick foliage and and grasses always made some noise when they were moved from his path.

Had he been so inclined he could have carved a path through the thick foliage. But that seemed messy, unprofessional to Nicoli, it was in his nature to leave no trace of his passing, not matter how bothersome it was. Still, perhaps he could cover more ground if he followed the river more closely, where the ground was clearer. Nicoli knelt down to rest, putting a water-skin to his lips and .... He paused and looked to his left hand which rested on the ground to help him maintain his balance.

Stone. Worked stone. He looked closer, brushing away dirt to see stone placed into the earth, and another next to that. This was the makings of a road, or rather what was left of one. He tucked the map away and moved a few steps further and found more stone. He moved left, then right finding the side of it. He stood up straight and looked behind and then before him. Yes, he could see it now. The jungle had overtaken it and grew around and over it, but he could still make out the faint edges of what was once there.

With a mental command he activated one of the charms around his left ankle, which lay hidden inside a boot. The result was an inky black substance that swirled with dark reds and blues, it would cover his features and allow him to see in the shaded jungle without difficulty. Pulling his cloak more closely around him he moved to the edge of the barely visible road and followed its path.

In time he came to something magnificent, spiraling towers that stood among the trees, both wrapped in vines. Where some buildings had collapsed on themselves other appeared to have survived the passage of time. He stood still for a long moment, watching the city, it has been abandoned for years.

Or had it?

Nicoli breathed in through is nose, inhaling deeply. Smoke. Someone was here. He looked around but was unable to see or hear anymore signs to navigate by. So, sticking to the shadows of the buildings as best he could he moved deeper into the long lost city, every so often he would stop and inhale, going to where the smoke was strongest.

It took time for Nicoli to locate exactly where the smell was coming from. He had a good sense of smell when compared to other humans, but he was far below that of many other predators. It wasn't until he saw the thin line of smoke rising up from a clearing that he pinpointed the smells exact location. Being so close put Nicoli on edge, made him wary. His hunt was coming to its end.

He pulled his cloak more tightly around him and approached slowly, picking his path carefully. He even went so far as too use the magic in his anklet to silence his steps, there could be no mistake before the strike. There would be no tripping the trap for Nicoli, his keen senses and years learning to detect such things made it possible for him to pick out the cleverly disguised trip-line before he blundered into it.

Clever. He thought as he inspected it without touching it, eyes tracing the wire to a wooden clacker to his left and another to his right. Staying where he was he moved a hand, concealed within the depth of his cloak up the side of his face to the goggles he wore but were covered by the ink like liquid of one of his charms.

He pressed a button on the side, using the magic of the goggles to shift the color within the ink to the clear lens, with it he was able to focus his sight more closely on the fire and the meat that hung over it. Hanging branches, leaves and vines made it impossible to make out much of he camp. He could move of course, but he would risk setting off the trap. Besides, a moving target was much easier to spot than a still one.

He pushed a button on the side of his goggles again, this time switching from red to blue. He would have liked to use his red lens, but the fire right before him would make that lens all but useless. So instead he looked for the tell-tale glow of magic. He could see nothing through the thick foliage.

He looked down for a moment, looking over the trip-wire again.

Very well. He said to himself as he dismissed the silencing magic of his charm, it was near useless at this point anyways. He stood up and as he did he yanked on the clacker, pulling it with him and causing a commotion as he did so.

A few steps into the clearing he would toss the portion of the trap he had grabbed on the ground before him. His hands would then vanish back in the depths of his cloak, each coming to rest on one of the many pouches he wore on his person.

Nicoli had expected a trap of some sort,a pit fall or barbed arrows dripping with posion. But that hadn't been the case. He then realized that the trap wasn't for him, but perhaps for animals? He looked to the fire again. Blood would have worked better he thougt. Dark blue eyes continued to scan the enviornment, he was wary for deception.

After a brief moment those dark and pasionless eyes rested on Zande. This was his man, there was no doubt about that. With a roll of his shoulders Nicoli pushed back his cloak, its magic stopping and resting as a deep green color, he showed his own hands, bare of weapons. But weapons could certainly be seen on his belt, swords, a dagger, pouches, hand-cross bow. Nicoli was a walking armory to be sure.

The words Zande spoke meant nothing to him, he didn't understand them in the slightest. "Do you speak the trade tongue?" He asked in common, his voice as flat and dead as his eyes.

A smile that would have looked out of place if Zande could see it spread from ear to ear, it was a tight, thin-lipped smile and stretched far too wide for his bony and thin face. Despite the fact that his face was all but covered by a black ink like substance that swirled with deep reds and blues he watched his target approach with perfect clarity. He had yet to change the blue lenses of his goggles, which were also covered by the same magical darkness and gave him a bug appearance, he could see the magical aura that the man’s bracelet projected, though it was faint and didn’t appear to hold any offensive capability as far as Nicoli could deduce.

“Good. That is good.” Nicoli spoke as Zande stopped only a step or two from him. With his hands still held up, palms out, he shook his head. “Oh no, we are not friends.” He chuckled lightly, his shadowed head cocked to one sign in an unusual gesture.

“I’ve traveled a great distance by various methods.” He lowered his hands. “Somebody wants you dead very badly and has paid a very handsome sum for it. So, I will kill you.” He stated his words flatly, as a matter of course, it was business like, professional and lacking any sort of malice or hatred. This was simply another contract for the man known as D’Angelo.

Nicoli’s words were cut short as Zande stepped in for the attack. It was what he had been hoping for, his words had been calculated as such. Nicoli was stranger to tactical diversions, using slight of hand to gain the advantage. It was his trade after all. Most of the time such tactics worked and a prolonged fight never occurred. Nicoli saw such tactics as tests, and if his opponents passed those tests then they were worth the challenge, if not, well then they were often times dead.

It was safe to say that Nicoli rarely ever fell to such tactics, he was always expecting them. The two had been lined up across from one another, so when Zande stepped forward with his left foot to step on Nicoli’s it meant that he had to cross a leg in front of the other. Why the man didn’t simply try to step on Nicoli’s right foot he didn’t know. A set up for something else?

Nicoli wasn’t in a habit of getting stepped on in general so when Zande expanded Nicoli contracted, his left was brought back and slighty to his right. With his right foot he took a small half step to his right, his left hand moved to the hilt of his short-sword to draw it unless prevented and his right dropped to a pouch on his hip. Small talk was over it seemed.

Should everything be avoided it would mean that Nicoli now faced Zande’s left side and for him to face Nicoli would mean that he would likely have to bring his left foot back across and turn, or complete a spin move of some sort.

There was a distinct difference between the way Zande and Nicoli fought. Though just about anyone looking from the outside likely wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between them to Nicoli it was as clear as could be. Zande, to Nicoli, attacked with an open ferociousness a sort of controlled fury that was guided by instinct and experience. On the opposite end of the spectrum Nicoli was a classically trained swordsmen, having started his training in fencing as a youth. He had evolved since then, but the core of his movements were practiced, defined tempered by his own experience.

Of course that wasn’t to say that one way was better than the other, simply different. For Nicoli who was only three inches shorter than his opponent, he was moving even as Zande came to grip the axe on his back. He maintained balance and proper footwork, the essentials of fencing. He also moved in a straight line, this time it was straight back a single step. If his opponent was going to use what Nicoli thought of as a cumbersome weapon than a change in tactics would have to follow.

Nicoli would have liked to attack the open right side of his opponent, but that method of attack would certainly be impractical. Instead he leaned back slightly with his back-step, his opponents elbow falling short of its mark, it simply didn’t cover the distance Nicoli’s legs carried him away. That being said, Nicoli knew what followed and as he withdrew his shortsword his other hand snapped out and down.

A ceramic ball struck the ground between the two and within a few breaths a dark grey smoke would spill out thirty feet in all directions. With the protection the decrepit buildings and trees gave from the wind it meant that unless his opponent had another way to get rid of it the smoke would last for a full minute before beginning to disperse.