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True Grave
Warrior
- Joined
- Jun 30, 2010
- Location
- Where The Fight Takes Me
Black Retribution
Belisarius crept silently through Castle Parnassa in the dead of night. While the white stone of its exterior shone brightly in the moonlight, it could not hide the evil it concealed from him. Sleeping peacefully in the east wing of this hallowed edifice was a man he had sworn to kill. That man had taken everything from Belisarius save his life, a grave mistake that would cost him his own. It was difficult to be patient as he searched, but the man reigned himself in. If all worked out as it should, he would leave as unnoticed as he had entered.
The darkness of the hallways were a welcome shroud. His gray cloak blended effortlessly with the shadows, allowing him to move almost invisibly. Underneath his gray cloak was a full suit of black leather armor. Belisarius was able to move silently on the balls of his feet in this armor. Everything was going fine so far, though he knew that the real challenge was still ahead. In order to get to his target, he would have to sneak around armed knights.
Moving ahead, he passed through a reception area that forked in two directions. One path led to the east wing while the other led to the west wing. Turning to the east, he faced his first obstacle. A large set of double doors led into the east wing and would be impossible to open silently. His only way around would be a window that did not open. While challenging, it was the only silent way open to him.
After walking up to the window, Belisarius touched the glass with his index finger to judge its thickness. After determining that it was of average thickness, he placed his finger at the corner of the sill. With focus and precision, he began cutting the perimeter of the glass. It had taken over a decade of constant training to hone his hands into weapons capable of cutting like swords. As long as his concentration did not waver, he could cut through just about anything. Once he had cut the glass out of the sill, he pulled it out and gently set it on the carpeted floor.
Stepping out onto the window, he made his way across the ledge that ran along the ramparts. Keeping calm and moving quickly, he soon reached the opposite window. After cutting it out, he set it down and continued on in a crouch. Using the shadows to his advantage, he bypassed more than a dozen armed guards. These slobs clearly lacked any real guard capabilities, some even being drunk on the job. His quarry certainly hadn’t picked an elite team to guard his quarters, but given who he was, he also didn’t need one.
Chief Minister Augustus seemed like an angel on Earth with his flawless complexion, handsome face, and boyish spirit. This was all a carefully crafted facade, however. In reality, Augustus was named Taran, a former member of his clan that had murdered the rest. Bellisarius himself could have died by Taran’s hand if the smug bastard had not let him live. Killing Taran would be no easy task, as they were equal in skill. Bellisarius would need to kill him quickly if he wanted to escape safely, as unlikely as that would be.
Only one year ago, the world had been secretly run by a monastic order composed entirely of martial artists. Their job was to maintain order and balance in the world. The Black Fist, composed of half the order, would operate in shadow. The White Fist, composed of the other half, would operate in light. The two sides balanced each other as they did the world. The Grand Fist had existed since the dawn of time, but in an ironic twist, its most promising generation would turn out to be its downfall.
Bellisarius reached the quarters where Taran was supposed to be asleep. As he took out a lock pick to break in, the door suddenly opened.
“Well, hello there, Bellisarius. I’ve been expecting you. Please come in and tell me what you’ve been up to this past year.”
The assassin struck out with a spear hand thrust that aimed for the murdereous bastard’s throat.
Belisarius crept silently through Castle Parnassa in the dead of night. While the white stone of its exterior shone brightly in the moonlight, it could not hide the evil it concealed from him. Sleeping peacefully in the east wing of this hallowed edifice was a man he had sworn to kill. That man had taken everything from Belisarius save his life, a grave mistake that would cost him his own. It was difficult to be patient as he searched, but the man reigned himself in. If all worked out as it should, he would leave as unnoticed as he had entered.
The darkness of the hallways were a welcome shroud. His gray cloak blended effortlessly with the shadows, allowing him to move almost invisibly. Underneath his gray cloak was a full suit of black leather armor. Belisarius was able to move silently on the balls of his feet in this armor. Everything was going fine so far, though he knew that the real challenge was still ahead. In order to get to his target, he would have to sneak around armed knights.
Moving ahead, he passed through a reception area that forked in two directions. One path led to the east wing while the other led to the west wing. Turning to the east, he faced his first obstacle. A large set of double doors led into the east wing and would be impossible to open silently. His only way around would be a window that did not open. While challenging, it was the only silent way open to him.
After walking up to the window, Belisarius touched the glass with his index finger to judge its thickness. After determining that it was of average thickness, he placed his finger at the corner of the sill. With focus and precision, he began cutting the perimeter of the glass. It had taken over a decade of constant training to hone his hands into weapons capable of cutting like swords. As long as his concentration did not waver, he could cut through just about anything. Once he had cut the glass out of the sill, he pulled it out and gently set it on the carpeted floor.
Stepping out onto the window, he made his way across the ledge that ran along the ramparts. Keeping calm and moving quickly, he soon reached the opposite window. After cutting it out, he set it down and continued on in a crouch. Using the shadows to his advantage, he bypassed more than a dozen armed guards. These slobs clearly lacked any real guard capabilities, some even being drunk on the job. His quarry certainly hadn’t picked an elite team to guard his quarters, but given who he was, he also didn’t need one.
Chief Minister Augustus seemed like an angel on Earth with his flawless complexion, handsome face, and boyish spirit. This was all a carefully crafted facade, however. In reality, Augustus was named Taran, a former member of his clan that had murdered the rest. Bellisarius himself could have died by Taran’s hand if the smug bastard had not let him live. Killing Taran would be no easy task, as they were equal in skill. Bellisarius would need to kill him quickly if he wanted to escape safely, as unlikely as that would be.
Only one year ago, the world had been secretly run by a monastic order composed entirely of martial artists. Their job was to maintain order and balance in the world. The Black Fist, composed of half the order, would operate in shadow. The White Fist, composed of the other half, would operate in light. The two sides balanced each other as they did the world. The Grand Fist had existed since the dawn of time, but in an ironic twist, its most promising generation would turn out to be its downfall.
Bellisarius reached the quarters where Taran was supposed to be asleep. As he took out a lock pick to break in, the door suddenly opened.
“Well, hello there, Bellisarius. I’ve been expecting you. Please come in and tell me what you’ve been up to this past year.”
The assassin struck out with a spear hand thrust that aimed for the murdereous bastard’s throat.
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