View Full Version : Rogue

10-10-2006, 02:56 PM
This is an idea I got after seeing the Assassin's Diary thread. It's a little something I put together. I'll write more if this becomes popular enough. So, read it and tell me what you think.
Warning, however, it's pretty violent...

My child; wondering through the streets endlessly, pursuing your fruitless struggle. You have no idea what you€re doing. You think that your god looks over you with admiration and trust. You think that you will be rewarded in the afterlife for the deeds of this one. You think that with all the death you cause, the world will be better off.
I laugh at you, my child. I laugh at your vision of what is right, and your pitiful need to chase it€¦

Dressed in white robes, the hooded figure made his way through the streets. His clothing style seemed to be a cross between a monk and a crusader, as he wore what looked like part of a cross underneath a strange, large belt which held his crossbow, quiver and throwing daggers. At his side was a sword, and the scabbard in which it rested.
He may have looked somewhat suspicious to anyone who paid close attention to him; he walked, often against the flow of the crowd; he made not toward the marketplace, but toward the alleyways and side-streets.
The man walked fast, clearly in a hurry, yet his footsteps were silent, and his face permanently hidden from view. All that anyone saw was the middle-eastern chin and lips, and the black goatee that licked at the rims of his hood as he walked.
Anyone who paid very, very close attention would also have noticed the little detail of the missing finger. But, anyone who noted all of this was likely to be obsessive compulsive, or incredibly paranoid.
The mysterious figure pushed his way through the streets as another man led the now abandoned horse into the stables to be resold. Corrupt traders and thieves €" some of the ways these people made money was just pathetic. The figure needed no money, but he knew the way these people worked, and knew that the best living was an honest one.
It was nearing the end of the day; the sky was going golden as the sun fell past the horizon. It would be red before long €" with blood or time, it didn€t matter. The figure did not care, as long as his work was done. He liked to think that the sky going red was the sign of Allah telling him that he had done well, but this would not be the last blood he would spill.
His stride became faster as he realized that the square was still a good way off. But these people weren€t helping him get to his destination any quicker.
Turning off into a side street, he latched onto the first window he could find, and then pulled himself up onto a ridge marking the beginning of this building€s first floor. He shuffled along until he was opposite a fairly close building.
Pulling himself up quickly, he bounded from one to the other, and back again, his hands slapping against the balcony of the first building€s second floor.
He climbed onto the balcony, and from there to the roof.
Not pausing to catch his breath, he broke into a light run, and leapt as he reached the edge of the building.
The figure stumbled slightly as he hit the surface of a building a floor smaller than this one. The hard stone they used for these buildings was not good to his legs, but he had been trained to cope with it.
Up ahead was a wall €" white, to match the rest of the city €" he dashed up it and grabbed onto a window ledge. Maintaining a degree of momentum, he pushed himself up higher and grabbed onto the side of the next roof.
Bounding across the rafters that ran down the street and brought him near a bell tower cut down a lot of time.
He intentionally fell beneath the last one, throwing himself under and over on to the top of the wooden beam.
His next move was into the clock tower itself. That would be a good escape route €" the figure had seen many, many other paths to the main gates from here that the guards could not possibly follow in their heavy armour and ignorance.
Through the window and onto the platform he swung. Not detecting anyone inside, he ran down the staircase toward the plaza below.
The target stood atop a platform in the middle of a large crowd, corrupting the minds of the people here with his lies about victory and good and evil. The figure made forward quietly, nonchalantly and slowly. No one to help him here, not that he needed it €" these people were not likely to care about him, as this was his first kill.
With a suave hand on the shoulder of a very passionate shouter, he made into the crowd.
Right the way to the front of the crowd, and he had not yet been noticed, even though he believed he had practically parted the red sea of citizens behind him.
His oblivious target strode around his wooden platform, shouting his lies to these people, who lapped it up like dogs. The hooded figure pitied them.
The man wore a suit of armour to his chin, as his face was bare for all to see. The figure€s weapon had no need to penetrate the scale mail, however. A straight blow, up through the base of the chin would finish him for good.
He took his time, waiting for the right moment to strike, and watching his target€s movements. Or, at least, that was his excuse. He was hesitant about this €" his first kill. Once he did it, he would have to move as fast as his legs could possibly carry him.
Now, damn you! He ordered himself. Now! Now is your opening!
Still he tried to think about this. But he knew that standing here would do nothing €" he would have to act.
He pushed through the final members of the crowd, leapt onto the platform. The target stared in shock as his final moments came ever closer.
Suddenly, the hooded figure stopped in his tracks. There was a sharp pain in the middle of his back €" he couldn€t move his legs!
The sound of a sword being drawn caught his attention, and as he turned to see his hood was pulled back, and what met his eyes was the white clothes of a hooded figure, and the grinning, middle-eastern lips of a middle-eastern mouth.
The sharp pain from his back vanished, but his legs remained immobile. As a hand grabbed onto his hair, he noticed that there was a finger missing.
The sword was thrust through his neck. Pain filled the space that life left as it passed through the holes in his body.
Blood splashed everywhere as Khalil tugged at the almost-dead man€s head and wound the sword the rest of the way round.
A slight crunch, and a massive loss of vital fluids, and the head came free.
He lifted the face up, shamelessly spinning it through his hands to look at the horrified expression of the boy. Dark brown eyes, black hair, a fairly large nose; some dimples and moles marred his features. Not that it mattered €" the kid was dead now. And the crowd was running away terrified; how cute. Murder wasn€t uncommon, so what if it happened in front of them?
€˜Hey!€ He called after the crusader as he walked off. €˜Where€s my money?€
The crusader turned round and laughed. €˜Your money?€
€˜Yeah.€ Khalil replied, pretending to clean his sword as he got his trigger finger ready to unleash his switchblade. €˜Remember? Assassins die, and you pay me for each one killed who tries to pop you off.€
€˜No, I don€t remember.€ He grinned. €˜All I can see is a dead man, and you covered in his blood.€
Khalil scowled. €˜You don€t want to do this.€
€˜Do what?€
And with that, the man walked away. Taking his place was a wall of guards.
€˜I don€t have time for this!€
Khalil ran forward, leaping from the platform. The crusader broke into a run, making for a horse just off the way. Take your horse, then. It won€t save you from me!
Drove his sword into the heart of the first soldier, and gracefully pulled it back out as the man fell to the floor painting the streets red with his blood.
Before he could attack, another soldier found his neck sliced wide open, even through the chain mail he wore.
Khalil elbowed past the final guard just in time to see the crusader galloping off on his pretty white steed.
€˜Bastard!€ He cursed.
The assassin dashed round the corner, and down the streets, which were full of terrified people.
€˜Get out of my way!€
He pushed through them effortlessly, some got too in his way or refused to move, so they were put down just as easily €" innocents or no, that thief had taken his money, and the only horse available, and he was not going to get away with it!
Khalil reached the stable, and found the black horse that he had had taken from the now deceased assassin.
He swung onto it, and with a sharp kick, sent it bounding into the streets. Like a warhorse, it cut through the crowd, and made after the traitor€s steed.
The white horse came into view before long €" it seemed that mister crusader had not trained his steed to react in battle. Whereas mister dead kid obviously had.
The crusader screamed as Khalil came upon him, crouched atop the black warhorse. Before he knew it, he was thrown from his mount and into the cobbled street. His head cracked against a stair, for all that it was worth €" the idiot was already dead.
Khalil retracted the switchblade and robbed the man for all that he was worth before stabbing him in his useless face with his own sword, and vanishing in the light of the red sky.

€¦I laugh at you because you will get only what you perceive as honour and glory, while I will emerge with the spoils of the slaughter.
My name is Khalil Ravanna, and I will kill for the highest bidder. If I am not paid, the highest bidder meets his pathetic end in the streets, before his loved ones, those who want him dead, and those who have never met him.
And now little Hashashin, I will kill you.

10-10-2006, 03:53 PM
umm i read it and its awsome but i hope you dont expect people to not be lazy and read the whole thing...no offence http://forums.ubi.com/images/smilies/25.gif http://forums.ubi.com/images/smilies/16x16_smiley-happy.gif

10-11-2006, 12:08 AM
WOW that is a great peice of writing http://forums.ubi.com/groupee_common/emoticons/icon_smile.gif

I liked the way you started it off, very cool http://forums.ubi.com/groupee_common/emoticons/icon_smile.gif

will there be a second "story"??

10-11-2006, 02:07 AM
Cool story man!

10-11-2006, 04:29 AM

10-11-2006, 08:55 AM
Really good! http://forums.ubi.com/groupee_common/emoticons/icon_smile.gif

Tho I made my thread like a diary for a reason, so ppl that are sorta lazy manage to read it all :P no offence, your story is really good too! Cutos

10-11-2006, 11:32 AM
Originally posted by hirden:
Really good! http://forums.ubi.com/groupee_common/emoticons/icon_smile.gif

Tho I made my thread like a diary for a reason, so ppl that are sorta lazy manage to read it all :P no offence, your story is really good too! Cutos Contrary to popular belief, short stories aren't all that short...

I wrote this because it was an interesting thing to write about. However, I'm not passionate about it (unlike my 190 A4 page, size 10 times new roman, yet unfinished, novel), so I'll only continue writing this if a sufficient number of people enjoy what I've so far written. And if they can understand what I just said.


10-11-2006, 12:56 PM
very nice http://forums.ubi.com/groupee_common/emoticons/icon_wink.gif