Crows Murder

[03:00] Crow (melchior.wardell) chuckles, which was far from his nature. “The hat was a gift from my lady.” he lied “She makes me wear it on travels because it keeps the sun from my eyes and it helps to keep my mind warm up here.” he jested. He took the hat off but made sure the hair would still keep his mark unvisable. “You wish to talk business here ? Or shall we go in the long hall ?” he suggested.

[03:04] MARK was swinging his sword in lazy arcs as he practised. He fancied himself an excellent swordsman, as rumour has it, and he rather enjoyed the way the sunlight glinted from the raised blade. He speaks to him as he idly swings “Well, the hat does you no real service. I think if I was you, I might have it off when I left the home and her eyesight. Women can be…prickly over such things.” He jests. He looks around as he lays the sword against the tree. “Well, privacy is always best when theirs business.” He says, really, not answering.

[03:07] Crow (melchior.wardell) chuckles at his words, having studied the man while he swings his sword. It was important to measure his strength and for now that was one to be reckoned with. “She is an excellent housekeeper.” he leans in closer to create an atmosphere of trust “and an amazing fuck.” he whispers. The light of the day was fading and with that his covered mark even more hard to see. “Yes … well I wouldn’t mind to just inspect some trees before night truly falls. Just to tell you about those I wish … and we can set a price over a good mug of mead ?” he again suggested. His pose of the casual man, showing his open palms even to underline his non-threatening position.

[03:10] MARK gives him a knowing chuckle. “Good house and a good fuck. Sounds like you struck gold there, my friend. Myself? I tend to keep to the slaves. I find a lady just has too much of a mouth on her. If your’s is so good, perhaps she has a sister!” His shoulders shake a little with the mirth as he gestures towards the trees. “A walk will do me good anyway. Sets me up for a nice relax over my dinner. As long as you are buying the first mead, then I’m all in. Lead on, sir.” he says, waiting for Crow to head for whatever of the forest he wishes to see.

[03:12] Crow (melchior.wardell) laughs, as if he was the good-natured bloke he posed to be. “Well the cold can strike viciously outside the gates, I hope you won’t mind me to get my cloak first ?” he asks. The blade positioned to the tree he tipped with his boot “I wouldn’t want you to go unarmed yourself Sir ?” again to pose in a non threatening way. It was Crow that would not kill a man without giving him at least something to defend himself with. Call it his honour or overconfidence.

[03:15] MARK nods as he picks up his own cloak from the ground. It hung in his way when he practised, so he always removed it. “That sword is a newer design. I’m not quite happy with the weight of it, to be honest. I’ll not be paying out for it until the smithy gets it right. Never fear though.” he says, giving a dramatic clap to the outside of each of his boots. “Daggers are well in place. No outlaw or other such trouble maker will bother us, I feel certain.” He pauses as he waits for Crow to be cloaked…”Say, I heard about a slave market over in Sais. I might set out for there next week. Meant to be some good stock there. Interested?”

[03:20] Crow (melchior.wardell) nods before he had quickly gone back to get his gear. Perhaps he had missed his true profession that of an actor on stage that needed to dress in another set within little of seconds. The long black furred coat, disguised now his fully livery. The blades well hidden under it as were the daggers stripped to his thigh and the bracer’s that held the knife that could snap when the button was pushed. The crossbow to his belt was there but would be useless unless someone might pursue him when he had done his deed. The cloak seemed like a tent when he paused before the man “Ah .. good Sir … I fear I am not that well with blades. Even the misses tells me I am more of a thinker.” he again jested. He brushed down his cloak dramatical “Slaves … well if this deal goes well … I might have the coin to spend … perhaps she can make this cloak more my size .. It feels like it is meant for a huge larl.” he hoped the man wouldn’t be suspicious. In this stage all would come together. Had he build enough trust that w

[03:20] Crow (melchior.wardell): ould make his story plausible. He quickly waved his hand in a very gracious gesture “Shall we … sun doesn’t seem to wait on us.”

[03:24] MARK answers the waved hand with a wave of his own. “By all means. The sun, as you say, waits for none.” He walks easily with him to the woods, chatting along with the foot falls. “I was thinking on seeing if I could take a chance on an exotic or two. There’s good money in a well trained exotic. I thought if I got one for a low price, I could increase the coin by selling her off in Ar.” He looks at Crow’s cloak with a raised brow. “It’s gonna take more than a slave to fix that, my friend. I think should the deal go well, you should just spring for a new cloak. That one… well let’s just say, it should go the way of your hat!” He slaps the odd tree as they pass them, commenting on growth. “It’s been a late season for everything. The snows stayed with us a little too long this year.”

[03:30] Crow (melchior.wardell) frowns for a moment, of course very much aware of the trade in Ar. It hadn’t been that long before he had visited Ar. “You must be a man of wealth.” he said chuckling keeping up his appearances “I myself have seen those … beautiful … and rare … but unskilled in making you a good bosk steak.” she snickers “But I fear I am not that much of an expert on slaves, my employer however might.” his eyes study the trees as if they held a true interest. He had of course kept track as to how much they both were still visual. He walked a little deeper into the woods, the shadows helping him “What about this one … could it be cut ?” he asks while he studied the floor. There was enough on the floor to kick up and blind the man for at least that first seconds.

[03:34] MARK shakes his head to Crow’s observance of wealth “No, not too wealthy, but a great gambler, and sometimes it pays off. I thought to buy low and sell high. If I’m lucky, I can make a fair bit extra. I have a kitchen slut though, and she does cook very well. Well she cooks well or she gets the hide stripped off her. She rarely disappoints. I’ve allowed her to run a bit chubby, as I’ve always felt that good food comes from someone who likes the eating of it.” He throws him an easy smile and kneels down to check the base of the tree. Again, he slaps the trunk as he does so, as if testing a melon. “Aye, it’s a good one. Reached good growth, and seems to carry no rot. Will be of good use.” He says, tilting his head back to scan up the trunk.

[03:36] Crow (melchior.wardell) frowns “How can we be sure that this tree is indeed a good one. You know my employer is a rather nasty bastard … can we strip some of the trunk to see the wood ?” he asks while he casual seemed to make this little pile of dirt before his boot.

[03:38] MARK pulls the knife from his boot as he speaks “Well it looks OK to me, but anything for the coin, yes?” He starts scraping the blade down the trunk to slough off some bark “This’ll blunt my blade some. I’ll need to stop off for my sharpening stone when we get back.” He says, as he strips bits of bark. “it’s looking pretty good to me. Good building timber, this.” He nods, approvingly, and considers doubling the price as Crow seems a little easy to fool when it comes to matters of business….

[03:42] Crow (melchior.wardell) when the man has reached for his dagger and used it on the tree. He knew one hand (the one that would be used to swing a blade strong and swift enough) held the dagger. The dagger was easier to overcome than the blade. He kicked up the dirt at the moment the man was facing him again. Crow hoped that the man would be blinded, perhaps unsure as to what happened. His hands seemed to come out of hi cloak one had pushed the blade of his bracer, the thin knife seemed to snap out of it instantly. Swiftly Crow would try to get behind the man to press his other hand to the marks mouth so his screams would be muffled and unheard in the settlement that was clearly out of hearing range.

[03:45] MARK’s hands reached instinctively for his eyes when the dirt came up. He was a bit slow to connect, as he said “Bandits!” as is first thought was that he and Crow might be attacked. It was only when Crow put his hands on him he connected the dots quickly and was trying to say ‘Unhand me, you rogue’ but the words would be muffled under the hand. He struggled, swinging widely with the dagger, to no avail, with the blindness of the dirt and the fact Crow was already behind him.

[03:47] Crow (melchior.wardell) pressed the thin knife against the mans throat and his knee kicked him in his lower back with enough force that might break his spine. “Seems your life has been paid for.” he said and his voice now held that sinister edge of what he was. The hand remains on the mans mouth but when he forced him backwards his mark was for now clearly visual “A strong man … meets a strong killer.” he whispers.

[03:49] MARK’s eyes go wide, and the struggle that would have been quite powerful was aborted with the kick in the lower back. It was all he could do to breathe now. A muffled sound came from behind the hand. An offer to pay him… to buy back his own life, perhaps? The muffles grow louder as he does, indeed, make a desperate life saving move, and tries to offer coin. That’s the only word that can really be made out in the noises.

[03:55] Crow (melchior.wardell) had faced this scene more than he could count. The man clearly unable to harm him by the well aimed kick dropped to the floor before him, he crouched down as to accommodate the knife that was still at the mans throat. The dagger he had been holding might cut him but he quickly stepped on the arm so it would remain lifeless. “It seems a man of Olni doesn’t agree with your life.” he said while he now moved the thin knife over his throat in one swift motion. The force of the knife which was sharpened the night before slit through his throat easily. The blood gushed out as he cut the vain that was located there. He held his own position and would wait for the blood to be pumped out of the mans body. The main artery was cut too with a second well aimed cut. Time was now his enemy knowing that if he took to much of it men might be alarmed and start their search.

[03:56] MARK’s body only jerked once, then fell to stillness as his lifeblood flowed. He simply was… no more.

[03:57] Crow (melchior.wardell) watched while life would drain out of him and only lifted himself up when he was sure the man was gone to the city of dust. The next part of his task was one he didn’t look forward too. He still reached over to close the mans eyes. Perhaps to safe him the horror of what would come next. The pool of blood was quickly gone on this soil, but perhaps would attract sleens. He reached for his blade after he pushed the knife back in his bracer. HE lifted it up before he would give that swing with so much force that he would decapitate the mans head from his body.

[04:01] Crow (melchior.wardell) noticed the head bounce a few times when it was cut from the rest. The mans facial expression of horror and the surprise as to what had happened seemed to still show. Crow sheathed his sword again and took the bag that was on his belt to open it so he could take the head by its hair and put it in there. “A man of the North lost his life between his trees with slave flesh on his mind.” he looked up for a moment “I hope you will have many in the city of Dust.” he murmurs silently before he gave a final glance over the scene to be certain that no clues on who he truly had been were left. It had been purely business, nothing personal and even in this there was even that show of respect the man would be honoured with. Nothing was taken only the head as mere evidence that he had done as agreed.

At times you sit there in wonder as to what all has happened and how one should proceed. Those moments of reflections are at times those haunted dreams that can keep one awake, and I would be dishonest if I said mine are any different.

 I am fully aware that I wasn’t born to be this killer. I know I wasn’t destined to be ruthless and cruel to others and yet I know that my life has taken a change in the past that justifies that what I am today.

 When I found my companion and children killed by the Kurii I have not given myself the time to grief over the loss I experienced. Still I know that even if I had, I wouldn’t ever be the scarlet I was before. How could I follow blindly when the Ubar that was in command was such a fool and only out to claim more regardless of the consequences it held for those that lived under his leadership.

 Perhaps some might think I had it all and threw it away without any consideration, but what would I have owned now if I had just accepted the life of a Scarlet that would go of to war, simply because the Ubar told me so? I might still have that red, that makes me look more handsome than this black. I might have found this new and amazing companion to build up a family again. But what kind of man would I have been?

 Somewhere between all these thoughts and questions, I know that what I am now is the man I wish to be. Even though I regret that taking lives is needed, it serves a purpose. The Ubar I once followed so blindly made me experience this for myself.  Yes, I take lifes for gold. Not because I feel the greed, but because if there wouldn’t be any high price, people might call upon us sooner. Perhaps their reasons would be far less honourable than they are now. Truth to be told, that I don’t hold my clients in high regard, most of the time. They take perhaps the easy route, while there are still other options left.

 I am aware that many of my brethren aren’t so picky to who calls upon their profession. Perhaps it was my luck that I am able to be this way, since in my time there weren’t that many that were in this dark and sinister trade. I have earned my living more than once and for gold I don’t have to bother.

 And now I am here, looking over a river that seems to be quite telling in how I feel. The current most deadly and the screams from behind me seem to cry out murder. An atmosphere of restlessness that seemed to be here was the reflection to my inner feelings. I would smirk or laugh to those that think we have no emotions. What fools they are to think that we don’t hold anger, resentment, rage, care or even love.

I know that behind me in the most sinister tavern there was this man, my old mentor when I redid my training to get the desired book. The old mentor had returned and since I never forgot how he had trained me before his sudden departure, I can’t help to feel blessed to be in his presence again. Perhaps he is more the man I wished to be than the cold and merciless Serpent. Both mentors had their own talents and skills and I wish I could say I have them both, but the skill of Serpent in handling steel, I can’t match.

There are only a few that I respect in these high regards, Sol and Scar are two of the five that I have in this position of looking up to them. Even if I had my own share of what comes with the caste, these men seem levelheaded and brutally honest to what should be considered the training of the Caste of Assassins. They share the same dream I have and with that I have this hope that with the right minds it might get back to business again.

I am aware that this dream might have different views or thoughts as to what the dream really entitles.

If I had to share it or speak of it, I would say that it is the true council of the Caste of Assassins. A place, where all killers that have proven their worth by their book, come to debate and discuss topics. That place where we can set the standard as to what is right and what might not be. The one spot where everyone leads and everyone listens to what another has to say. Each voice should be heard to reach eventually something that can be considered the true way of the Caste of Assassins.

Of course I am aware that some of the men that are my brothers in the Caste are far from willing to compromise. They are fierce and cunning men, harsh and uncompromising. They are all men that have to face death and deal with it in their own personal way. Why would they wish to unite and share their views when there is none able to demand such? Why would they use their precious time to politics when they can rule their own turf in the way they see fit?

I guess there is the difference between those that share the dream and those that don’t. So perhaps although I have faced the darkest sinister scenes and yet I am in my heart still that young boy that scared Bosks by spreading his arms and calling them names. An idealist, a fool or perhaps just someone that wishes to prevent what once was. That the caste of Assassins will be outcasted again, since none dares to look at themselves but rather point to others where they go wrong.

And now I face these strong currents in this river. Hear the screams of torture that hold that fear for death. I stand here, alone and I feel that inner beat of my heart that so desperate wish to work on that dream once again. I know I have made enemies in my time, even with some in my own Caste. But with this trust that the men here in this present have all the skills needed I would like to vow my blood to those that carry the dream.