Those who chatted with me on IRC a few days ago know that I was feeling really morbid. This is the side result of that day :|. The actually result was a really disturbed poem which I have no intention to ever share since I don\'t like asylum food.
First time I have ever tried to do something like this sketch, I normally do not like thinking like someone from the other side of the fence, mainly because if I ever tried being evil, I\'d probably be really good at it.
The Perfect Fighter
_________[/b]
. I have traveled the whole levels of Yikilum. I have seen bold men cower and cowards turn into heroes. Lately I?ve begun to wonder in those hours before dawn, when sleep won?t come without nightmares, when it is easier to be about my work. What makes a man a perfect fighter? Is there even one?
. Many claim to be a fighter one needs to know pain, I call them fools. True pain is not the stab of a thousand daggers.
. I have experienced ultimate pain when I set works into motion because of my greed that resulted in the accidental murder of my wife and children...by my own hands. What happened afterwards had finally led to what I was today.
. The floor boards thought about creaking as I stepped on them, but dared not. I moved like shreds of fog, neither here nor there. The guard was well placed and the area well lit by flaming torches, but these could not stop me.
. I felt no pity as I slid before the man. Two of my fingers slammed into his chest, stopping his heart while my other hand covered his mouth. He most likely had never seen his death coming before it consumed him.
. The body was disposed of in a side passage. Many preferred killing with daggers, I did not. Daggers draw blood which leaves a mark. My way was silent, clean, and if someone came into the room, they would not instantly go into alert. It took great skill, but I took no pride in it. The problem was resolved, I moved forward.
. Many claim to be a fighter one needs to master oneself, to control every action. I call them shams.
. The next room was thick with magic. I could sense it flowing around me as I slid around the door frame. The first and only smile of the night flitted across my features.
. Powerful wards like this detected intruders meaning harm, but it did so by the emotion of intent, something I did not have to worry about. My discipline was above that.
. I warped my thoughts, becoming someone other then I was. In a minute I thought like a guard, moved like a guard, almost had become a guard. I admired the ward as I walked through the room, scoffing at those who would attempt to pass it. I knew my master was safe, for would not I protect him?
. My true purpose hovered on the edge of my thoughts, but I did not examine it until I was through the door. There was the mental pain of course as my old self fought with the fake guard?s mentality. But I have already mentioned pain, it is nothing to me.
. Many claim to be a fighter one needs the ability to think fast. So far I have never found an opponent who could think as fast as I.
. The chamber door was protected by two trained assassins. I sensed them the moment they sensed me. There was a split second as I regarded them and delved into their experience. The one in the shadows to the left was obviously new, he responded slowly to my presence.
. The right one was skilled. The moment he noticed me he moved, not in attack, but to hide. This would cause some danger for me. I would have to deal with the first one, but I would always be open for a surprise attack from the second. I felt no fear, I simply had to turn the tables and set my own trap.
. I thought this all in the space of a second and moved the next. I do not think they expected me to be so blunt, surely the man never expected it. The first assassin tried to respond to my rush, but I thrust my leg out in a jumping front kick, crushing his ribs. He flew against the wall behind him and I heard something snap. I paused in front of him only long enough to stop his heart to prevent him from screaming.
. Then I wrapped myself in the shadows. The other would be wary now, he had seen my skill. I almost missed hearing the throwing knife, but my body responded without thought and I jerked to the side. There was a flash as the other assassin moved from one shadow to another and I spotted a tail. It was an Enkidukai, the race of shadow hunters.
. There was a small tube hanging on my belt for just such an occasion. It was fitting with a cap that would shatter when it hit something. I dodged another knife and then threw the tube right at the moving shadow.
. The Enki was good, I will grant him that. He saw the tube and wagered a guess as to its purpose, although I know he would?ve guessed wrong. He must have thought that it was some type of sleeping powder and batted it away with a falchion and tried to leap aside, but he wasn?t fast enough. It hit the wall near him and exploded.
. A thin fog filled that corner of the room. It contained nothing more then a simple sneezing powder. As diffused as it quickly became it was only powerful enough to make my eyes water and my nose itch. But those of the Enkidukai race have much more sensitive noses. He fell into painful racking sneezes.
. I didn?t waste any time. He fell to the floor dead without a mark to explain how. The empty tube I recovered and slipped into a pocket. The powder itself would clear out before long and not a trace of my presence would be here, my orders required this.
. Many claim to be a fighter one needs to know evil. I call them deluded. Evil is not the corruption of a thousand souls, nor the destruction of half the land.
. The chamber door was locked, but that was to be expected. The lock had never met my wire and it was defeated as easily as the guards.
. I pushed the door open and looked inside. The bed was were my information had said it would be, right in the center of the chamber. Torches filled the room with constant light and a roaring fire in the fireplace left the room hot. But then, I had heard that the room?s occupant preferred heat.
. There was one guard walking a circuit around the room. I do not think I need mention his swift death. Kicking the body out of the way I stepped forward. The bed had thick curtains to keep out the light. I drew them aside.
. The condemned lay there, sleeping with the thought that he was safe. Of an ugly, cursed race, with their horns and faces like demons he lay with a smile on his face. Cuddled under his arm was a female of his kind, almost more ugly then the male.
. For the briefest of moments I felt the tug of the memory of my own wife as she slept beside me, but it passed as I carefully drew a special dagger from my belt. The handle was covered with a cloth to prevent any mark being left. An Enki could smell my scent on the handle, or a mage cast a spell to track.
. That wasn?t to say the knife had no marks. It had been held last by a Kran, a Kran who had a violent dispute with this man. It would take a fool to believe that he would do the deed with his own dagger of course, but people usually were willing to be stupid for convenience.
. I drew the sheet slowly back to reveal the area to strike on the condemned?s chest. I would normally have killed him like all the others, but the orders had been strict on this. There must be blood.
. I stuck swiftly and silently, hearing the condemned?s last breath leave his body with a gurgling sigh. I looked at the still sleeping female, she would be quite surprised when she woke up tomorrow.
. I turned and made to leave the room. I felt no satisfaction on a job done well. I could care less who that person was, or what he did to deserve to die. And at the doorway I reflected that this might be true evil, to have no emotion when a life is destroyed.
. But I was beyond caring about the definition of good and evil. For a long time I had just been. I did my job, got paid and went on to some other task, many times disposing of the last person I worked for.
. I have traveled the whole levels of Yikilum. I have seen bold men cower and cowards turn into heroes. Lately I?ve begun to wonder in those hours before dawn, when sleep won?t come without nightmares, when it is easier to be about my work. What makes a man a perfect fighter? Is there even one?
. I think it is me.
