"Whenever someone asked me who I was, or what I did, I never answered..." Ducking under an overhang, the creature blundered on, his heartbeat sounding loud in his ears, his lungs burning, "Not directly at least. Usually just a slight smile and a flash of a blade, and then they'd never see me again..."
He was running from a shadow. A lethal apparation that haunted the streets, "Sometimes, however, I would say who I was. But most creatures who I said that to either lost their mind or life shortly afterwards..."
Tripping, the creature went headlong into a parked cart. His nose bleeding and his head spinning, he got up as swiftly as he could, tumbling over some spilled produce from the cart as he resumed running, "
Though, if you are reading this, then that means that you are probably one of us. So I can safely say who, and what, I am..."
Feeling a sudden extra weight as his pursuer landed on his back, the creature landed on the cobblestone streets, tears of fear and pain leaking from his eyes as his blood dripped on the streets, washing away with the rain as it began to fall. He heard the sound of a blade being drawn swiftly, a cold shiver ran up his spine,
"We are Nameless. An Order of Assassins. We don't reveal our identities, often even to those close. We do not exist, except only in nightmares and myths, simple stories to frighten off young ones or to spell death. Since you are more than just one of us, I can reveal who I am to you..."
A voice slid across his ears, hard as cold steel, but strangely soothing, Be One with the Night. Praan ko Drem!"
And with those words, a blade plunged deep into his throat, purging the life from him in a single strike,"I am Silverfalcon Pikehawk. And this, is my Legacy..."
"Stell writin' in tha' wee lil' book Ah see? Ye never stuck meh as th', booky type, Silver."
Oh, that maddeningly thick voice. It was the voice of a close friend of mine. Wallace the Longsword he called himself. Aptly so. He carried a monstrousity of a claymore with him everywhere.
"Yes, Wallace I am."
I replied the same as I always did.
"Ah mean no offence Silv, but ye're writing yer life storeh, just because some dream ye had?"
I nodded, setting the book and my quill down, standing and turning to him. He was a tall stoat, with fiery red fur and green eyes. He had his arms crossed, like he usually did when he was curious, or being cheeky,
"I know you don't believe in visions. Honestly, neither do I. But it was something about this one, that made me feel like I should follow it."
Wallace made a throwing motion with his paw, "Paah, fine. Anyway, Ah was sent here tea fetch ye. Aero's wonderin' when we're gonna git goin' on our next run."
I nodded, walking for the door, Wallace in tow. We arrived in the main atrium of our little cave hideout we called home. Aero stood in the center. Something I failed to mention prior to this entry was that Nameless often have to resort to raiding to get supplies. That is what Aero wanted to see me about. Aero turned to greet Wallace and I. He was a large, old mink. Fur black as pitch and eyes red as blood. He carried a deadly secret in his arms, and was profitiant with the black blades he strapped to his back. All in all, he was a valuable ally, "You were wanting to see me, Aerothorn?"
The old, black mink nodded, "Aye. I wanted to see you about our next raiding run. The supply chain from the village should be coming through soon."
I sighed. Why he felt the need to ask me about a supply run when he knew all about it already was a little irritating to say the least, "What's there to ask? Same as always. We wait till they go through, pop the smoke, take what we need, then leave."
Same strategy everytime. We were holed up in a mountain cave that stood as the only exit for a small village inhabited mainly by scum-of-the-earth woodlanders. When I say woodlanders I mean both 'vermin' and 'woodland' species. Since I am good friends with many 'vermin' species I typically don't refer to them in that manner. To me, vermin is anybeast who my order is opposed to.Aero sighed, "We can't stay in these mountains forever Silv. The creatures down there're going to catch on eventually. Pretty soon they're going to brave up and come in here. Skilled as we might be I doubt five creatures could take on an entire village."
Darnit, he's right. Sometimes I wonder why I'm the leader. I'm no more than 23 seasons old and my first instinct is to skulk around in the shadows and shove a knife in someone's back. Wallace, who is only a season younger than I am, just goes with whatever's going on, though sometimes I think he just wants to sit in a pub for a day. Then of course there's Aero, who is at least 57 seasons and is easily the smartest and most rational of the group. There are two more of us, the vixen twins Zyro and Sair'n. They're the youngest of our group, both biologically and technically, as the joined only two seasons ago. Zyro is a deadshot with a bow, and Sair'n is frighteningly skilled with her snares, spear and wide variety of traps.I sigh,
"Fine... After this run, we'll head out. But I want to send those creatures down there a message. One they won't soon forget..."
"I could help you with that..."
And there's Sair'n. A voice like silk that slides seductively between her teeth. As I said, she is skilled in various traps. The three of us turned to her. She had a hypnotic mixture of black, white and partial reds woven into her coat, and eyes that always seem to sparkle. If I was a fox, that vixen would be my wife, "How d'ye mean?"
Wallace says."I've been recently experimenting with fire..."
"You're suggesting we burn the village?"
I say. She simply gives a nod. "Have I ever told you that I love you?"
I mean this statement figuratively of course. Despite my earlier statement there are no feelings aside from joking friends between us. She smiles, "Including now, I'd say a total of five."
Wallace rubs a paw over his sword hilt, "Caravan should be coming through soon. We should get going."
Aero, Sair'n and I nod. While Aerothorn readies the smoke pods we use as cover, Sair goes to fetch her sister. I simply check to be sure my vambraces are still on my arms and the blades attached to their underside still in mint condition. I never carried much into battle aside from these and occasionally a sword or bow of my own, but I always got a certain thrill from killing an opponent with their own weapon. Perhaps it's a psychological problem, but either way, it just gives a certain satisfaction. You live by the sword, you die by the sword, and if it is used for evil, why not have it be your own? I stood and trotted towards the cave exit and assumed the necessary position for my fighting style. Assassinate and thin the ranks for the main force. It worked well in cooperation with Zyro's expert marksmanship. She and I usually start the party, then Wallace and Aero join in with their swords, during which Zyro usually stays back to pick them off while Sair'n and I steal what we can before being spotted. While all of us had our own primary weapons, all we're armed with one blade identical to mine. I watched as the cart was pulled up over the crest. Zyro's first arrow signaled the festivities to begin.
An hour later, the bodies of the fallen were piled into the cart, set alight and sent back down the hill towards the town, with my companions and myself following closely behind, our objective was very simple... Clear it out. And clear it out we did. A mere sixty minutes after the initial charge we had left the village behind, a trail of dark smoke fading into the sky behind us.
Wallace was congratulating Zyro, "Tha' was some mighty fine shooting back there lassy!"
Zyro chuckled at his praise, gracing him with a mock bow, "Oh but it was nothing compared to your skill with that behemoth you call a sword my friend."
Sair'n and Aerothorn don't join in the conversation of our companions, merely watching them with lazy eyes. I was in front of everyone, simply listening in as I polished the blades on the undersides of my gauntlets.