Curse

DarkBeing · Aug 27, 2006, 01:20 AM // 01:20

Hi all, I'm a new poster to GW Guru, but I've visited Guild Wiki and the forums before. Anyway, I posted this fanfic on my Guild's Forums, and they said I should post it here. The fanfic is based off an Assassin I have.

Enjoy!

Mercy – An Assassin’s Tale

The rain descended from the heavens, battering the ramshackle buildings below. But the inhabitants here had no sanctuary from the torrential downpour – most of the drafty buildings were old with leaky roofs. While the celestial ministers in far off Kaineng Center boasted of equality and happiness throughout the Empire, the residents of the Mandari District saw none of it.

Dirt and human refuse flowed through the streets on this rainy evening, often flowing into the homes of unlucky peasants. Few were spared by the overwhelming poverty. Disease and death were rampant here. One could smell the acrid stench of the diseased corpses being burned for miles – victims of previous epidemics had long filled the local graveyards.

Yet still the peasants made their way along the streets, avoiding the dirty puddles and dead rats that floated up from time to time. Neighbors passed the other without speaking – each lived in their own separate world of isolation and misery.

A young boy carrying a basket of apples ran down the street toward his home. He had saved up a week’s worth of allowance to buy the apples as a surprise for his family. Now he was eager to get back before the storm got worse. Suddenly, two men in black robes stepped out from the shadows.

The boy tried to get past them, but they blocked his way.

“Those apples look tasty. How about you let us have some?” one of the men asked. He started forward, his eyes ravenous. The boy stepped back, slowly, his heart racing when he bumped into a wall behind him. Both men drew daggers and advanced. The boy dropped his basket, the apples scattering.

“All we want is a little taste,” the man said. He raised a knife to the boy’s throat and laughed.

Suddenly there was a flash of movement and for a second, the boy thought he saw someone appear behind his attacker. The man turned slightly and let out a gasp as a small blade cut across his throat. The man dropped dead, and his partner seeing no one, fled into the forgiving darkness.

The boy gingerly knelt down to recover the dislodged apples and was surprised when he saw a woman in front of him. She was short, with long, dark hair bundled up under a headband. She wore loose fitting armor that was covered with short metal spikes. A mask covered her face except for a pair of narrowed, suspicious eyes.

“It’s alright, I won’t hurt you,” she said at last, her eyes gaining warmth.

“You dropped this.” She handed him an apple. Looking over at the dead man, she knelt down and retrieved a small bag and gave it to the boy.

“I’m sure your family will need this,” she said, knowing that even a few gold coins would go a long way for starving peasants.

Nodding slowly, the boy accepted the bag and quickly moved on.

Misao Uonuma watched him vanish into the murky undercity. It was tragic, she thought, that young boys should live in fear, just outside their homes. She strived to eliminate those who caused fear, without mercy. It was not like she would be shown any.

This was the way of the assassin after all.

***

She did not kill for sport.

While members of unsavory guilds like the Am Fah and Jade Brotherhood wandered the streets victimizing the poor, Misao thought of herself as a vigilant protector of justice. It gave her profession a little more dignity.

Of late, the assassin had been branded an archaic profession - they attacked in secret and had no honor said their detractors. How could they understand what honor is, she wondered, when hundreds die each day because no one dares to enter the poor quarter? It baffled her that her kind was shown no respect. No mercy.

Yet in some respects they deserved it. There were some assassins who cared more about gold and glory than their own honor. She sighed and began to polish her daggers. They were her favorite set – she had owned them since childhood.

She had killed her first man – a petty thief – at age twelve. Since then, she had honed her craft to near perfection, even mastering the shadow step, a maneuver that let her travel great distances in little time. But despite her efficiency, Misao Uonuma realized that she was not completely merciless. Sometimes her emotions got in the way.

She began to sharpen her daggers furiously as she began to think about the consequences that happened the last time she had shown mercy.

***

3 years earlier.

The man’s name was Kanjo. All she had been told was that he was a wicked man who lived with no regard for others around him. She had been provided evidence of his deeds – she always requested some before she went to work – and had agreed to terminate him with no questions asked.

She recalled that everything had gone well at first.

It had been easy to infiltrate Kanjo’s estate and dispatch some of his guards. She observed that the estate was dotted with ornate sculptures of unrelenting warriors – a symbol of Kanjo’s wealth. The place reeked of opulence.

Her evidence indicated that Kanjo had earned his fantastic fortune by extorting the surrounding peasantry. No man should profit off the suffering of others, Misao concluded. Kanjo would die.

Quickly she made her way to the house, and shadow-stepped to the roof. Being careful not to alert anyone inside, Misao crawled along until she reached the eastern end of the house. Here, a doorway from the main building led into Kanjo’s private gardens, lit only by paper lanterns. Misao shivered – the rain had been soaking into her light armor all evening, and she hoped this would be all over quickly. There was no mercy from the elements here.

Suddenly, she spotted two figures emerge from the house. One of them was a tall man who carried a large umbrella. The other was dressed in fine robes, and walked with a slow, aristocratic gait. This must be Kanjo, she presumed. But she would need a closer look to be sure.

Misao leapt from the roof onto one of the tall manicured bushes that lined the garden pathway. She prided herself on being able to move without noise – her prey would have no warning.

It didn’t take long before the two men appeared.

“I think the rain brings out the best in Cantha,” the richly attired man was saying. He continued to ramble on about how the rain washes away the sins of the populace.

“No heavenly downpour will stop your final reckoning,” she thought.

The second man only grunted. She knew he was probably a bodyguard of sorts, and would have to be dealt with first.

Again with no sound, Misao rolled off the bush and landed on the ground. She was now positioned behind the two men. From her belt, she extracted a pair of poison tipped daggers. She took aim and was about to release when she heard a noise behind her. Thinking that another bodyguard had found her, she whirled around, prepared to cut his throat before he could speak.

Instead, Misao Uonuma found herself face to face with a young girl. She could not have been more than five years old, and her eyes were wide with fascination. They were fixated on Misao’s daggers.

Misao knew she should have quickly killed both men at that moment. But instead she found herself in conflict. Did she have the right to rob Kanjo’s child (she looked like the rich man), wicked though he was of her father? Misao turned back. – the guard and Kanjo had not noticed her. She looked back at the child again, and her heart felt heavy in her chest. What was happening to her?

And then the girl cried.

Misao sensed movement behind her and tried to roll away, but she felt the tip of a blade sink into her shoulder. A paralyzing force swarmed up her skin and she grit her teeth in anguish as the blade was removed for another blow. Rolling away, she saw the tall man who had been with Kanjo earlier, now flanked by two brutish looking men.

They charged.

Misao knew she could not handle all three of them with the injury, which was still profusely bleeding. But through years of training, she knew how to even the odds.

She ran towards the swordsman on the left and leapt over him. As she did so, she slightly brushed his face with her hand. Within seconds, she felt the pain from her wound vanish, and smiled with contentment. She turned back to see the swordsman feeling his shoulder in disbelief. He was now bleeding. Distracted, he flailed about at her while his comrades watched in confusion.

He came back towards her, an animal look in his eyes. But Misao was ready for him. Reaching into her pocket, she removed a small pocket of white powder, which she flung into his eyes. Blinded, he slashed wildly, nearly hitting her several times. She delivered a kick to his neck and he hit the ground with a sickening thud.

The other two men, who had watched the scene grew angry. They had underestimated her.

The taller man, the main bodyguard, removed a pair of exquisite daggers from his robe. Misao realized she would be fighting one of her own. She grimaced and touched her shoulder – she had stopped the bleeding, but the pain was coming back.

The other swordsman approached her cautiously, not wanting to meet the same fate as his companion. The dagger wielder made sure never to turn his back to Misao, but did not get any closer. They wanted her to make the first move.

Feinting towards the assassin, Misao then charged at the other man, and threw one of her daggers. It missed him by an inch, sticking into the trunk of a nearby tree. Undaunted, she quickly shoved her palm against the man’s chest. For a moment he simply looked at her, but then found himself flying backwards.

Turning quickly, Misao brought her one dagger against the tall assassin, who had descended upon her. Three daggers collided in mid-blow and she struggled as the taller man forced her down.

Barely keeping her balance, Misao kicked the assassin in the chest, sending him backwards. He charged again, but right before he reached her he vanished. Misao realized that she only had moments before he reappeared again and struck her. She spun around, only to find that the swordsman had regained his footing and was now bearing down on her.

She realized that she would not be able to deflect his blow with one dagger. She felt a change in the air as the assassin began to materialize next to her.

Both men would deliver fatal blows to her chest. Misao knew that there was only one option left.

Closing her eyes, she immersed herself in the darkness around her, letting it engulf her without resistance. It was cold and inviting. She would be a shadow.

In that instant, Misao Uonuma transcended the laws of mortality, as dagger and sword passed through her as if she were a ghost. With one motion she plunged her dagger into the heart of the assassin. His look of surprise betrayed his character – he had believed himself invincible.

Kicking the swordsman back, she raced to the tree where her second dagger was lodged. As she pulled it free, she felt herself weakening considerably. Her moment of invulnerability came with a price – when it faded she would be left close to death. She was at the mercy of the shadow, and it was a cruel master.

Her arms felt limp and Misao dropped to her knees. With her last ounce of strength she hurled her daggers towards the approaching attacker.

She didn’t miss.

Pulling herself together, Misao hobbled towards the corpse of the bodyguard and gingerly removed the daggers. Her defensive tactic had left her drained physically, but she had not forgotten her objective – Kanjo.

He was still standing where she had left him, holding the sniffling child. He was defenseless, and Misao knew it would only be a moment to finish him.

But looking at the girl with her long hair and big, brown eyes, Misao could not help but see herself in Kanjo’s daughter. She remembered how her parents had died when she was young, and the feelings of hatred and fear rushed back. She stared at the pair for what seemed like an eternity, her daggers ready.

And then she turned away, fading abruptly into the night.

She had been merciful – but she only felt self-betrayal.

***

Misao Uonuma shook herself from her reverie, and stared down at the muddy street that was filled with debris. A small mirror floated past her, and she intercepted it.

Examining herself in it, Misao brushed her hair out of her eyes and reflected how much she had changed since that day.

She had never forgiven herself completely for sparing Kanjo’s life and had driven herself to work harder and perfect her skills to the limit. But despite this, she felt empty inside. How many families had she destroyed through her actions? Did she deserve to feel anything?

She felt something drip down her face, and it took her a moment to realize that she was crying. She dropped the mirror from her hands and it floated away in the muddy street.

She had been running from the truth this whole time. When she had saved Kanjo, she had saved herself as well. Her emotions prevented her from becoming merely a heartless killer. She could show compassion. She could show mercy. She had just been ashamed of it, and this had hurt her above all else.

Misao knew that she could continue onward now. She stood in the rain and felt alive again.

The rain washes away the sins of the populace.

She looked out at the night sky and unsheathed her daggers. She had work to do.

This was the way of the assassin after all.

Ristaron · Aug 27, 2006, 04:39 PM // 16:39

Very nice. The only part of it I enjoyed more than the moral play was how you so vividly described the process of 'skills'. Too many people are content to say 'and then this person used [skill name here] blah blah bland', so it's always good to read someone with an creative sense on the mechanics of such things, and the vocabulary to explain them.

I look forward to more.

Carth` · Aug 31, 2006, 02:17 AM // 02:17

Yes, I liked how you wrote the battle. I could recognise the skills, but you kept it realistic. It was nicely written.

Goats17 · Aug 31, 2006, 03:56 AM // 03:56

Very nice. I know this has been said before, but the skills are described very well. The battle was one of the most fluid that I have ever read. Good descriptions and great detail in her emotions.

Valiance · Sep 12, 2006, 06:15 PM // 18:15

Great story! =)

As I was reading I saw something... just a small typo.

"She spun around, only to find that the swordsman had regained is footing and was now bearing down on her."

is = his?

Just missing the "h".

Great story nonetheless.

DarkBeing · Sep 12, 2006, 08:20 PM // 20:20

Thank you all for your wonderful replies, and to GWG for spotlighting this!

Valiance, thanks for the typo tip, I try to proofread as much as possible but sometimes things slip through.

BTW, I made the edit but it doesn't show up on the main page. Is there a delay of sorts?

I've started another fanfic, but with school it will probably be awhile before it comes out.

Sir fredman · Sep 13, 2006, 11:52 PM // 23:52

That was very good =) Keep up the good work!

Ron vo · Sep 15, 2006, 01:09 AM // 01:09

amazing..simply...wow

Would you mind if i made a side story to this? My own assassin would love to star in a epic like yours,maybe mine and yours could meet? ^^ just a suggestion,I love writing stories i would like to know if you wouldnt mind