KMC Forums - Assassin

“Shit.”

Rak muttered the curse as his target entered a tavern. It seemed the jolly old banker had a liking for drink. But Rak couldn’t murder the fellow in front of half the town, and certainly couldn’t conjure a big enough shadow to cover the entire room. You see, Rak was a shadow elemental humanoid, created to kill and to kill only. He had a certain power over the shadows.

Rak shivered. It was the middle of February, and a damned cold night. Damned cold. Rak rubs his hands together and blew into them. He did not have his bow with him, he had chosen dirks this cold night, where the wind was just that violent that it would blow an arrow so far off course it might hit Rak instead of the banker whom he had been paid in advance to kill. Rak considered that he might simply take the money and run, but then he wouldn’t be able to return to this town again for fear of vengeance, and in a place such as this, so corrupt with so many people wanting another dead, it was an assassin’s paradise. So he had decided to kill the man and be done with it.

But it had gotten complicated now. He supposed that he might go into the tavern and wait for the wealthy man to come out, but that would mean probably being seen by the tavern keeper, who had banned him for starting, and finishing, a fight with a crowd of a dozen ruffians who thought they had the right to stomp over everyone.

On the other hand, he couldn’t stay out here, for he’d surely catch his death in the cold night where the wind did not nibble, but tore at your skin. Rak felt that there was snow coming too.

He sighed, and looked around for some sort of shelter from the wailing wind. He spotted a few pieces of wood next to the tavern, crossed the street, and made a small lean-to so that the wood protected him from most of the wind. He lay down on his stomach, and waited, his face buried in his arms, except for his eyes that watched the street.

Rak spent half the night there, waiting, freezing, wiggling to keep his blood moving. Then he heard the door open and a great drunken roar of laughter, followed by footsteps going down the street, a drunken song of merriment accompanying it. Rak waited for the banker to pass the alley he had his lean-to in, and then stood and followed, silently, his shadows concealing him from the sight of even a hawk.

The banker was merry with drink, and it was a pity that he should die in such a helpless state. But Rak shrugged off that feeling, and made his way quickly up from behind the banker. Rak muttered a few words, and raised his palm. A black substance shot out of it, and formed itself in a black orb around the banker’s head. The banker stopped singing. He took in a breath to scream, because he had been blinded, but before s sound escaped his lips, Rak’s two dirks had cut through his neck, heading in opposite directions. The jugular, the spine, and the vocal chords were all severed. The victim’s head fell to the ground. His body fell to its knees, and then his torso fell upon the cobblestones.
Rak looked at the head and body. The cloud of darkness had disappeared, revealing an expression of utter terror and astonishment on the old banker’s features. A sigh, and Rak turned away and headed for home. The snow started. It fell upon the banker’s moustache, and his severed body. The white snow, so beautiful and pure, was stained a dark red by the blood.

And it was cold. So utterly cold.