Things are never certain to always be what the seem to be. |
"swiftly and lucidly, he navigates the night as if he himself created it. a shadow among the darkness, he approaches his enemy with the graceful ease of the death. he has set out on countless missions before using the same tactics. cunning and stealth are his religion, killing is his hobby, and certainty is his promise. his prey is within feet of him, and he readies himself for the swift end of the subject. silently he draws his blade, its keen edge tempting the stars above to chance a glimmer upon its magnificent metal. the assassin pauses just a moment to relish in the satisfaction that he can finally satiate his thirst for blood once again, and then he leaps forward with his blade leading him. Like a hot knife through butter, the blade pierces the mans flesh fluidly, burying itself to the hilt. the assassin has punctured the man threw and threw, right alongside the heart. And just like that, the assassin is gone, one with the darkness once more, or at least he should have been. Deal a mortal wound he did, but the man did not die just yet. In fact he didnt even fall, nor stagger. instead he turns, slowly and to face his un doer. He meets the assassin's eyes with his, and what he has shown shakes his assailants world. standing before him, the assassins intended kill, is himself. shocked and confused, he staggers back a step, his head lost among the night sky as it fills with questions. Right then, something happens. pain racks his body to the bone, his heart feels as if it were exploding, and a sour metallic taste fills his mouth. clenching his chest, he drops to a knee as he spits on the ground before him. with his brilliant night eyes he can see that his saliva is tainted red. His hand begins to feel wet, and pulling it up before his face proves that it too had been stained with blood. he's bleeding, and badly. his vision begins to falter, becoming blurry and fading in and out. his body grows cold and numb. he's dying and he doesn't know why. with what little energy he has, he manages a glance up at his prey. the man still stands and looks as if nothing has happened. no blood nor wound, nothing. he looks into the mans eyes once more, and suddenly he understands everything. the mans face slowly melts away to reveal a skull. The assassin then goes cold and passes quietly. His kill tonight was not that on any mortal man, nor and earthly race. this poor souls target was none other than that of death himself." -Organis Machinas |