Sun burning it's mid-day heat, the assassin's feet quietly met the summit of the mountain cliff, his gaze firmly locked on his target below. His arms helped him keep balance as he kept in mind how much noise he was making. His steps were measured with the skill of an assassin that was at least a journeyman, his shoulders rolling as he prepared to drop down a good four feet as his perch, rolling out back to regain his balance.
| Graph IRI | Count |
|---|---|
| http://dbkwik.webdatacommons.org | 8 |