Nenshe crept along the side of the building. Stealth wasn’t really his style, but he couldn’t help being good at it. His feet just naturally avoided dry twigs, loose rocks, and other pitfalls. He reasoned that if he were louder, he’d likely be dead by now. The simple fact that he didn’t like it didn’t make it a bad habit. If he could have his way, he’d much rather walk up to the fools and give them a crack over the head, but that particular approach rarely worked to his advantage.

He reached the entrance and carefully peered inside. Three cultists, arrayed around an object in the center of the chamber. “Dogs’ Teeth. I hate these guys.” If Hera were smiling on him, he wagered that he could take down at least two of them before they were close enough to carve him up with their daggers — these guys always had daggers for some reason.

He saw no reason to take any extraordinary chances, so he placed a stone in his sling and stepped fully into the open to give himself a clear shot. With a snap of his arm, he embedded a stone deep in the chest of the cultist across the chamber from him. The man fell backwards with a shocked expression on his face, and the other two cultists turned to look at Nenshe.

“Surprise,” said Nenshe, and he loaded another stone in his sling.