A dark shrouded street,
A deadly evil meet.
A man with a righteous cause,
A man with lack of remorse
These are things which make my blade tingle,
These are things that leave me alone and single.
For we are married to the brotherhood,
Doing what we can and what we should.
Our way is a noble profession,
A targeted-form of single-minded aggression.
We work in the shadows to destroy corruption and greed,
Yet do not celebrity victory with feats or mead.
A lonely calling, a lonely life,
Just me, my target, and my sharpened knife.
He finished his prayers with a touch to the forehead, it was customary for those of his order to pray before fulfilling their obligation to rid the world of its evils. Silently, he drew his blade from a plain leather scabbard and whispered gently as he ran his hand along the blade, the evening chill making his breath visible. At this whispering the white lines that ran down the blade illuminated brightly for a moment before fading away to a dull glow of light.
Taking a breath he drew the blade across the left of his palm, the fresh blood being absorbed immediately by the blade, not wincing at the pain. Not enough he thought, drawing the blade across the same palm, creating a fresh cut. The blood was absorbed once more, although this time the man’s contorted slightly with the pain.
He paused as a shiver ran down his spine, never before had he heard of three cuts being demanded by the blade; rarely were two, a true evil was being rid tonight. Nevertheless deep in his conviction as he was the revelation spurred him on, convincing him again that what he was doing was right – no matter the cost.
Balancing the blade on his knee, the dull light glinting under the glow of the moon, he wrapped up his left palm in a piece of cloth, before picking up the handle of the blade and taking a deep breath. Slowly he began to cut across his right palm, his breath ragged as the pain flared up his arm like it was on fire. However a small smile began to play out along his face as he saw the blood was not being absorbed by the blade. Quickly he bandaged his right hand, grimacing slightly as he pulled the dressing tight.
He stood up, his dark cloak fluttering in the breeze as he pulled the hood over, he was ready. Jumping down silently off the ledge he looked down the quiet street, glanced up at the full moon and moved under the cover of darkness quickly and with purpose for it was not long to his destination.
The street widened and an oval courtyard appeared ahead, under a stone archway that connected the final two buildings opposite one another of the street. Engraved on the archway was a circle with a hooded face, white stones blazing out as eyes from within the darkness. As he prowled through under the arch he felt the crunch of his boots on slightly frosted leaves dropped from the tree that sat central to the courtyard, appearing to grow out of the stone. The leaves were red in colour, only a few remaining on top of the silver trunk that stood tall amongst even the buildings. At each cardinal point similar archways graced the edges of the courtyard, leading off up darkened streets.
He had entered from the southern entrance and slowly walked up to the base of the tree, sitting down cross-legged on the cobbled stone ground underneath the cover of the bare branches. Now his vigil would begin.
A gentle mist settled in the courtyard as the night grew old, the cold air felt crisp and clean as it drifted down from the mountains above, and every so often the light of the moon would break through and illuminate certain area, revealing how the leaves that remained on the tree were coated in a light frost, the light reflecting off their surface.
The beauty of the sight paled in comparison to the early dawn. The sun appeared in the sky and slowly poured its gentle light through the mist, the frost on the leaves turned into morning dew, and the cobbles grew warm as they bathed in the sun. The distant sound of a lark heralded the coming of the morn, and amongst it all a man sitting crossed legged at the base of the silver and red tree closed his eyes and took in a breath of fresh morning air, admiring the magnificence of the courtyard before it was filled with the bustling traders from far and wide.
He gentled opened his eyes and smiled contently, it was time. He looked at the blade, the white lights had almost faded away completely but it was still enchanted with the price he had to pay, and would be until the evil it sought to rid was no more.
He held the blade with both hands, a brief moment of hesitation flickering across his face, before he gentle slide it into his chest, leaning forward onto the blade. Remaining silent throughout. His fleeting thoughts were that he hoped the others of his order had carried out what was required of them. They had become evil, so they had to be no more.
A lonely calling, a lonely life,
Just me, my target, and my sharpened knife…
Duel: Shankbot de Bodemloze vs m_1512 - Outcome!
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Originally Posted by Dance
