The slim figure made his way slowly along the docks, his shoulders hunched against the rain, his long black coat clutched close against the wind. A boat of darkened wood lay at anchor a little way ahead, its white sails billowing, straining to be released.
All his life, the assassin had lurked in the shadows, awaiting his prey with a patience born of constant training and deadly concentration. Now there was no reason to remain hidden any longer. His time was over. He felt it in his bones, the slow creep of age, and he hated it.
There was no place in the land for an aging assassin whose confidence had left him. Eventually, a younger, faster, more deadly warrior would finally track him down and put an end to his reign. He would not let himself die like that, a weak old man to be forgotten and mocked. No, he would leave now, while his legacy would perhaps remain in the hearts of a few. He would take the boat, paid for in gold, and sail into the unknown. He knew it was a death sentence to sail alone into mysterious waters, but better a quick death now than a lingering, ignominious demise in several years time at the hands of some anonymous youngster.
A tired sigh escaped the man’s lips. He pondered on the life he was leaving, the battles, the hunt, the blood and murder. What prospect had he of anything else. The Gods decided his fate long ago, and it was never to be a happy one. No one would mourn his passing. No one would remember.
Saen gazed out across the waters, his grim face searching for something beyond sight. Untying the boat from its mooring, he walked across the gangplank. Setting the sail, he began to guide the boat out across the Palanthas harbour. The waves rocked and battered the little craft, and Saen glanced back at the shore to try to judge his speed. His eyes widened at the sight on the docks behind him.
Two wizened elves dressed in flowing robes stood together, one in white, the other in red. They bowed deeply, smiling widely. A massive minotaur in shining platemail leaned on a huge sword behind them, the insignia of the Solamnic Order on his chest. He nodded once, fingering his blade. A human male wrapped in dark, phantasmal armor lurked nearby, his eyes harsh and commanding. He raised a fist at Saen, his cold face softening for an instant. A dark-elf woman with piercing green eyes stood near the elves, a magically bound skeleton at her side. She raised a pale hand to her perfect lips and blew a single kiss, pouting wonderfully. They remained a few more moments, before slowly turning away and disappearing into the city.
**** Many years later.****
The man grips his blade tighter, peering through the shadows of the sleeping chamber, trying to make out the shapeless mass on the bed. He grins wickedly, and creeps forward, the sharp knife at the ready. Over the bed now, he raises his hand and whispers, ‘Old fool, where are your mocking words now?’ And stabs down, sinking the point deep into the sleeping body.
*CRACK*
With a muffled thud, the man crashes to the ground, his neck cleanly broken. A shape detaches itself from the shadows, a man moving slowly now with age. He glances down at the corpse, and snorts. ‘If you truly want me at your side, my Prince, you’ll have to try better than that.’
Farewell from Saen. I hope you will treat his descendants with the same love/hate/respect/rage that you treated him. I had a perfect time, only I had no patience to find the 3.5 million exp to get to his next rank...
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