In the Shadows: part 1

[Darkkyn]

Thoughts of a Shadow : Part 1

Rain. I find it funny people complain about it so. They run here and there, trying to avoid the inevitable. Regardless of what they try, they all end up wet. I don’t mind the rain, in fact it make my work that much easier. The constant noise covers the sounds of my movement, and the fact that the moon is usually obscured helps hide my profile. Not that I have ever had a problem becoming one with the darkness.

I think that’s why I chose the name I did, lends strength and lets people know how easy it is to become lost in my world if they ever chose to cross me. Names… I don’t ever remember my give name, much less the people that gave it to me. No matter, they were just the ones that brought me to this world, not the ones that cared for me or provided any time of home.

Movement catches my eye, off to my left. Someone is trying to remain unseen in the shadows of the building, but it’s an amateur. By the size I would say a male, mid teens due to the scarecrow effect of his clothes. Naive in thinking that just because he’s in the dark people won’t notice him. Well many wouldn’t, that ill grant, but with the way he’s letting the rain from the gutters above land on him and splash away brings notice to the trained eye.

Watching him brings back memories of how it was trying to fend for myself before I was taught the ways. I was younger then he was, by his age I had acquired considerable skill in not only in not being seen but in accomplishing my tasks. But there is something about the daring of youth, some could say stupidity that makes those of us that are past it wish we could have it back.

A couple is moving from the alehouse now, undoubtedly the reason this scamp is hiding in the shadows. Both drunk, the male covering the wench to provide her with protection from the rain at the same time declaring to all she is his property. Like a woman can be owned without her consent. Even the ones that stay around to take the beatings and abuse do so of their own free will or tortured past that makes them feels that’s their place. Women will always be weaker yet stronger then us men. They always connive, always scheme. We are direct, where they hide their wants and desires like the cutpurse in the darkness.

I have no long for this land, nor for the people in it. I admit that they are people just like my homeland, each wanting much the same thing. But the greed and power of the leaders of these lands cause the wars that follow. Watching the scene unfold part of me grows excited at the violence that is sure to come. At the same time another part of me feels the need to interfere.

I have never been a protector, unless paid a worth some to do so. Could that be because I have never had anyone worthy to protect? I shrug the notion off, now isn’t the time to think about things that aren’t in the here and now. I again focus on this couple, stumbling and talking way to loud…both of which are bringing them the attention they really don’t need to be getting in their present state. They stop a building short of the alley where the thief is hiding, the man pressing his lover to the wall, seeking a quick taste of pleasures he expects her to soon give.

I can tell by the movies of the boy his indecision, he doesn’t know whether to wait or to strike now with the man’s thoughts on the girl and his back to the street. Darkness is the friend as much there though, as it is in the reach of the alley. The couple continues their liaison, with the woman submitting to the whim of her suitor, the ale clouding her judgment. Of course the man isn’t worried about who might be watching, or waiting. He isn’t thinking with the brain that has the greater sense of self preservation. They are taking to long, seemingly baiting the youth to act.

He takes the bait, moving erratically while still lamely trying to stay concealed in the shadows he moves in. The couple has no idea anyone is near, certainly not of their fate. As the thief nears though he slips on something discarded on the street. The noise causes the man to look in the youth’s direction. The boy freezes, uncertain of what to do, unknowing of which way a direct confrontation will swing with out surprise on his side.

“Get out of her you stinking git, you trying get a glimpse of meh girl are you? I oughtta beat you senseless for trying to spy on her loveless, it’s only for me to do with as I please. Get outta here boy, before I teach you the pain of being a man!” thunders the man. Its more bark then the medium sized man can bite, this I’m sure. It’s easy to see, in the way he walks, the inflection of his voice. He’s just as scared as the boy.

It doesn’t matter though, the youth stands there frozen for the first threat, but turns tail as the man continues to yell. Easier prey to be had he thinks. I wonder when the boy will die. Soon he will pick the wrong target, one that can back up their threats, or one that doesn’t need to threaten at all. That type will just act, quick death is their chosen language. One that I am well versed in.

I check that my weapons are clear of their scabbards, a habit I have acquired from a long life of needing them accessible. I will not be undone due to the hesitation of a weapon locking in its carrier, something so minor that would be the tragedy. The mighty shadow in the flesh, falling to a basic neglect of one’s tools. It is almost time for me to move, the guards will soon be showing for their rounds. They are the reason I'm here. I'll follow them them to the guard shack and after that I’ll use them as cover during their shift change to make my way into the compound.

It would be easier to just be able to scale the walls. Scouts are now guarding the interior walls. Their eyes are trained to find one such as me, and as tempting as it might be to test their skills versus mine, its not one that’s needed to be taken. I have a task, and only the actions needed to complete that task shall be done this night. The Archbishop shall fall to my blade, and I will again return to the shadows, until summoned again.

The guard's horses are approaching, easy to pick out their shod hooves on the cobblestones, and the clanking of too many weapons on chain mail. Men think that adding big weapons will impose an intimidating presence. If one have the power to command such weapons it would be one thing, but from the looks of these, that is far from the case here. Too much polish, too much arrogance displayed by all those that serve the church. Constantly thinking themselves so much better then others, this the legacy of the paladins. These guards are pale shadows of those holy warriors, yet they think themselves cast of the same mold. They will only be my pawns this eve, a means to an end. Yet they will be the ones left behind, the ones that will have to face the wrath of the church in my wake. Under their watch, their ward will fall. I become excited once again at the thought of my target. Killing itself is nothing to me any more, but the anticipation of working thru all the precautions only to show them how weak they really are, that is the prize.

The two guards pass along the same street the couple traversed up before, though from the opposite direction. Both are older, judging from their stoop, the way they are leaning over their horses’ saddles. As I wait for them to pass to fall in behind them they do something I hadn’t expected. They stop at the alehouse, something the guards might do on other shifts, but hadn’t on this shift, nor on this route. I don’t like surprises, they are the details that can ruin a well planned task. It’s these small miscues that cause lesser men of my trade to fail.

They both enter the tavern, to eat or drink, this I don’t know. With their shift set to end, I can’t imagine why they would stop now. Showing up to be relieved with the smell of ale on their breaths wouldn’t be appreciated nor tolerated by their superiors. Nor would showing up past their appointed time without just cause. I wait in my comfortable darkness for them to exit the establishment. The rain continues to fall, with the same dreary pace this land is known for.

I have the patience this trade requires to master. I can remain motionless for hours, waiting for the proper time to pounce, like a cat watching a mouse. My falling might be my pride, in my ego. Knowing I researched this crew, knowing they shouldn’t be stopping here, not now, this is what causes me to move towards the alehouse. I cross the cobblestone street, making no sound, leaving no trace. I am a moving shadow, no more. If one were to glimpse me, they would have to turn again to check their vision, for I wouldn’t be there. Leaving them to doubt what they think they saw.

Steady and purposefully, I continue to close ground to my goal. As I come up beside the door I hear the low talking with in. Tis not ale or hunger that brings these men to enter this night, is it work. They are questioning the tender about a matter. Normally I wouldn’t have stayed to listen, but something tugged at my curiosity. Why would these men be doing this at this time of the night? Why wouldn’t they come before the tavern opened, tis just as easy to question the man then. No drunks to worry about then. These questions kept running thru my head, keeping me in place to find the source of this action.

“I told ye before, I know not of who this Lord Badier is. A Paige came to secure two rooms for his arrival, and paid in advance. He didn’t even try to get a better price, paid just what I asked, even tipped if I kept it good and quiet see? But I am paid well by the good Archbishop to tell you of these types of things too. Not that I have ever had a visit from the likes of you, keeping me from cleaning up proper to end me night.” I could hear the bartender say.

One of the guards replied “Don’t worry about what time we come to ask you questions, unless you care to be escorted to the brig. Answer our questions or we can arrange a different means to get the facts out of the likes of you!”

Fearing the torture that the guard of the church are known to apply in the name of the Lord’s work was enough to crack the tender.

“Okay, okay…I Badier is from the west. A man of wealth and power, it is told. But I not knows why he comes here. But I do know he fancies the ladies, and a different one each night, sometimes many different ones each moon. This is all I know, tis I swear.”

I could see the guards glance at each other, seemingly satisfied with their answer. Menace still shone in their eyes, they didn’t like having to repeat themselves, especially to a mere servant of the people. With a swooping backhand the larger of the two guards caught the barman across the right temple. I could hear the crack of bone from outside, due more to the armored gauntlets then to the strength of the man wearing them. Either way the tender would be in pain for weeks until the injury could hear. Many at this level couldn’t afford the healing magics of the druids to mend their wounds, so this man would have to let nature tend its course, along with the numbing of ale I’m sure.

I quickly move back to my previous spot, tired of the delay and ready to return to the details of my plan. Still who was this Lord Badier, and what part was he to play in the events to come? For some reason I had a feeling this wasn’t the last of heard of this mysterious man. No matter, as long as he didn’t interfere with my work, it mattered not to me why he was here.

[Qiris]

More more! Part 2!!

[Rhoach]

Is this written from the perspective of Darkkyn, or a rogue alt?

p.s. Very nice so far, looking forward to more.

[Darkkyn]

in the past, Darkkyn was always a rogue -ish character ( daoc he was always an assasin)