Dracolypse
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I'd like to regale you with a tale of my legend. One of evil, good, deception, forgiveness, blood and battle. My story starts on the island of Inale. I was but merely a teenager in this current life of mine. Since my younger years I have been significantly attuned to the arts of the Arcane, nature, fire, water, earth, void, dark and light. The elements before me were used nicely, if they were in my grasp. I was 14, still a little girl, barely getting my legs in the harsh world around me, but I was already an assassin. After being cast out of my home by my vampire father, I was alone. I had nowhere to go, no one to turn to, and no use in life. I was nearly dead when I was taken in by an old man, his face weathered and his hair, greasy and shiny like silver. His voice was raspy when he spoke, offering me a warm home, and friends. The sickness in my lungs forced me in a state unable to speak, and useless to walk. I shook my head yes, and he gathered himself, judging me as he scooped me up in his strong arms, holding me tight as the rags I called clothes drooped in the space between them, drenched from the storm of which he was pulling me out of. Over the next few weeks, then months, I was fed, cared for, groomed, and taught the ways of the Lotus. They were fearless assassins, readied for any threat that may come face them, and willing to give their lives for the people of Inale. One night as I sat on the wooden windowsill of my room, my eyes watching the night of the city before me, listening to the wolves howl in the distance, my savior came through my door, closing it quietly behind him. "Greetings child of solitude, I bring you a task sent to me from the mainland. It seems as though Lord Vantrec must die tonight, and you have been summoned to kill him." He spoke quietly, his voice still raspy. I merely glared at him for a few seconds before sliding off the windowsill and down the side of the building, jumping off halfway down on onto the far rooftop across the street. I continued to run, pondering on why this man or woman would want Vantrec dead, then again, I dared not question myself, that would get me killed or outcast by the last family I had, so I begrudgingly shook off my thoughts and headed towards the Sky district of the city, where Vantrec's castle was located. A loud boom of thunder shook the ground as lightning crashed into the sea far in the distance. I hopped down from the the rooftops and stealthily made my way to the castle wall. I saw no way in but the front door, and the high windows. I decided to go with the latter of the group and flips my silver daggers from my hip, pulling my cowl down and my mask up, virtually covering my face entirely. I began to climb the side of the stone building, shoving my daggers into the cracks of it as I climbed up the the high window, my arms tiring from the exhaustion of hauling myself up the vertical wall. I thrust myself inside, looking around for anyone or anything keeping watch. There was no one in the room so I proceeded onward, stalking my way through the shadows of the walls as I had been taught. I came to a balcony-hallway, of which viewed the main throne room, with the pompous, fat Lord Vantrec sitting in his plush, red-velvet golden gilded chair. He was stuffing his face with who-knows what, thrusting food down his swollen gullet one chunk at a time. For once I decided to slow down. I slowly climbed on top of the railing and jumped onto the low chandelier. The lit candles only shook slightly as I silently made my way across them to the far end of the room, only taking a few minutes before I was sitting almost virtually on top of him.The sickening sounds of his hog-like feast made me want to vomit in my mask, the stench of his unwashed body making me gag. Whoever wanted him dead wasn't a fool, he needed to perish. I reached to my waist again and fumbled around, searching for poison. My plan I had assembled was to drop liquefied nightshade into his food, having him die slowly from the thing he apparently loved most, a feast for one man that could have fed half an army. I found my vial of the purple liquid, bringing it into sight as I marveled at its beautiful color. I unscrewed the cap off the vial, readying to pour the poison in his food as the sound of loud metal boots clanking to my right, it had startled me and the vial had slipped from my hand. I turned quickly and watched it fall in slow motion, the agony of failure already looming over my head. The vial slowly crashed and spilled all over Vantrec's uncovered, greasy head, and the guards from below looked dead at me, paralyzed with the sight of an assassin. In an instant I heard a man scream "ASSASSIN, PROTECT VANTREC!" from far away. I nearly cried at my discovery, but I had a mission to accomplish. I dropped down from the chandelier, and landed hard on my hands and knees next to the pig-king. I stood erect quickly, completing my mission as I ruthlessly silenced the man for once and for all. I stood and admired what quick work I had made of him, the pained expressions in his beady brown eyes, the gurgling sound of curdled blood and food in his throat, and the hard gasp as I relieved my weapon from his body. He slumped immediately, the crimson liquid draining from the orifice in his throat of which I had created. I took too long for my own good, as I figured out, because on of the guard pierced my my body with his steel long-sword, rending my own body inert and cold as the sharpened blade pierced my heart. My first success, then my first failure. I had won then lost in the same minute. I was a failure, and I was dead. I saw the sword being pulled from my ravaged body, my lifeless corpse smashing into the ground, pooling in my own tainted gathering of crimson sin. Not every legend starts off with a death, but mine has. But just because my life has ended, doesn't mean my story has.
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