Saryn crouched on his knees, resting in the smooth grass, lush and soft. He looked out at the cold eastern sky projecting out over the horizon, dark and lonely, the moon shining her silver rays about the land, turning the air into a faint gray as the grass shimmered in the peaceful light. The great, flat plain spread out before him, as a dark cloth blanketing the world. The wind blew gently across the plains, causing subtle ripples in the grass as the blades swayed back and forth, dancing about the endless fields of Rhun calmly and quietly. The night was tranquil, silent and still. Not a creature stirred, for it was well into the night, and the world seemed at peace.
That was just how Saryn liked it, solitary and silent. It was how he worked, under the dark-gray cloak of evening. Glancing down from his high perch atop a tall, stone plateau, he espied the object of his quest, sitting around a small fire, surrounded by two of his closest companions. They quietly ate their provisions, oblivious of the doom that had been laid upon them. Saryn raised himself from the ground where he crouched, his tall black robes falling silently to the ground. A smirk crept across his face, and he let out a very quiet chuckle. He loved his job: the thrill, the excitement, the money.
Saryn drew his long blade, Azulabawab, and it shimmered brightly with the silver light of the moon. He leapt off the cliff, landing once again on his knees. His cloak collapsed about him, hiding him in the shadows, a dark mound against the even darker earth. The strange man and his companions all glanced to their right, into the dark void, but saw nothing save the outline of a mound upon the plain. Paying little heed, they turned back to their meal. As one of the men set his hands down upon his food, the black mound shifted, rising up to a tall height. Saryn dashed into the sight of the fire. Raising his blade, he slashed through the man's spine, hewing the poor figure in half as a few drops of blood trickled out of the body onto the piece of roasted meat the man was eating. Before all the life passed out of the man, he let out a loud cry. His companions turned to see his top half slide off the log he was sitting in to the ground, landing in a bloody heap. Staring wide-eyed at the figure looming above their fallen companion, they saw the full figure of a tall youthful man, the figure of Saryn. His face, which bore a devilish smirk, was half hidden by his long, light-gray hair, and his body was well concealed by his long, dark cloak, save for his right leg and his left shoulder. His face was fair, and his eyes were gray, a very strange trait for an Easterner. About his leg, he wore nothing but a simple pair of common black pants, but on his shoulder sat a galvorn pauldron, an item of terrible strength, who's metal was unlike any other metal known to man. Stronger, even, than mithril ore.
"Who... Who are you?" yelled the leader of the group, his voice trembling in fear and amazement.
"Who am I? I am no one, nothing of any relevance. Just a lost spirit doomed to wander the earth till my mortal life expires. But who I am is of no concern to you anyhow, as you will die this night!" responded Saryn.
"Fool! We'll destroy you, boy! There are two of us, and only one of you!" exclaimed the man, leaping to his feet. His full figure now came into view, as it was hidden by the shadows cast by the fire around which the fighters stood. He was dressed like a common Easterner, his leather armor no where near complete, his clothes worn, his feet dirty. He wielded a sharp axe, and he was muscular. The same was true of his companion, although he was of slightly lesser build. "Die!" they yelled, charging at Saryn.
"So be it, if you wish it, I can kill you quickly, or slowly. It's your choice, really." declared Saryn, calmly.
"Boy, I'll skin 'yer hide and use it to carry my friend's dead body! You murderer!" yelled the smaller man. Saying this, they charged at the man with a terrible wrath.
Closing his eyes, Saryn said, "So be it." Saryn raised his blade and poised himself for battle.
The men charged at Saryn, their feet loudly stomping upon the soft earth as they traversed the short distance between themselves and the mysterious murderer. Saryn just stood there, his silver-streaked dai-katana hanging down from his left hand, it's sharp point just grazing the dirt. He looked at the ground. As the men neared, he tightened his grip on Azulaba, and his grinned widened across his pale face.
"Prepare to die, boy!" shouted the smaller man, raising his fell axe in the air, prepared to hew Saryn's body in half. As he neared Saryn, he began to lower his axe into a strong swing. Just before the edge of the man's axe was about to slice through Saryn, he rushed to the right. The man stopped, panting, with a confused look upon his brow. Then suddenly he felt a presence to his immediate left. It was too late however, as Saryn slashed his blade through the mid-section of the Easterner. The man fell to his knees, his torso drenched in dark red blood, his life source flowing out of him, and he collapsed onto a wooden log that had been laid about the fire. He could do naught but groan, for he was so dazzled by the sudden blow. His eyes looked to their right, and they saw that same evil grin upon Saryn's face as had been there when he slew their comrade. Slowly, his eyes closed shut, and he was silent forever more.
His partner witnessed the blow, and was infuriated. Charging very quickly at Saryn, he was full of rage, yet more cautious of his actions that his fallen friend. He readied his axe, and swung with a terrible wrath, but he struck nothing but air.
"Where has that man gone to?" he asked himself. All of a sudden, a silver streak made itself out in the sky. Azulaba went screeching through the air and pierced the man's temple, penetrating deep into his skull. The man fell dead instantly, a look of shock and horror frozen upon his face.
"Hmph. Well, I told you... Tisk tisk. Such a waste." said Saryn, looking at his last victim. "Oh well. Business is business." Pulling out his blade from the man's skull, he took a small rag from his pocket. It was worn, dyed red and stained with blood. Taking it into his palm, he cleaned the red blood off of his katana. After cleansing his blade, he looked at his dead opponents. Then, suddenly remembering something, he sheathed Azulaba in it's great black sheath, which hung at his waist like a sack of coins, and took out of his pocket a small dagger wrought of steel. "Well, no time like the present." he said sighing. Bending down next to the corpse, he took the knife in one hand and cut off the ear of the dead man. He then did the same to the next man. Taking the severed ears in his right hand, he hid his dagger and withdrew a small black bag. Dumping the ears into it, he got up and left the now desolate and empty camp. As he turned east, a wind blew across his face, and he was again at peace. Ever so quietly he began dashing in the eastward direction, stopping not, though the beautiful countryside often offered many great views, for he had to reach the city of Rarun by morning to meet his contact, and to drop off the ears of the dead men, a sign that he had done the deed.
That was just how Saryn liked it, solitary and silent. It was how he worked, under the dark-gray cloak of evening. Glancing down from his high perch atop a tall, stone plateau, he espied the object of his quest, sitting around a small fire, surrounded by two of his closest companions. They quietly ate their provisions, oblivious of the doom that had been laid upon them. Saryn raised himself from the ground where he crouched, his tall black robes falling silently to the ground. A smirk crept across his face, and he let out a very quiet chuckle. He loved his job: the thrill, the excitement, the money.
Saryn drew his long blade, Azulabawab, and it shimmered brightly with the silver light of the moon. He leapt off the cliff, landing once again on his knees. His cloak collapsed about him, hiding him in the shadows, a dark mound against the even darker earth. The strange man and his companions all glanced to their right, into the dark void, but saw nothing save the outline of a mound upon the plain. Paying little heed, they turned back to their meal. As one of the men set his hands down upon his food, the black mound shifted, rising up to a tall height. Saryn dashed into the sight of the fire. Raising his blade, he slashed through the man's spine, hewing the poor figure in half as a few drops of blood trickled out of the body onto the piece of roasted meat the man was eating. Before all the life passed out of the man, he let out a loud cry. His companions turned to see his top half slide off the log he was sitting in to the ground, landing in a bloody heap. Staring wide-eyed at the figure looming above their fallen companion, they saw the full figure of a tall youthful man, the figure of Saryn. His face, which bore a devilish smirk, was half hidden by his long, light-gray hair, and his body was well concealed by his long, dark cloak, save for his right leg and his left shoulder. His face was fair, and his eyes were gray, a very strange trait for an Easterner. About his leg, he wore nothing but a simple pair of common black pants, but on his shoulder sat a galvorn pauldron, an item of terrible strength, who's metal was unlike any other metal known to man. Stronger, even, than mithril ore.
"Who... Who are you?" yelled the leader of the group, his voice trembling in fear and amazement.
"Who am I? I am no one, nothing of any relevance. Just a lost spirit doomed to wander the earth till my mortal life expires. But who I am is of no concern to you anyhow, as you will die this night!" responded Saryn.
"Fool! We'll destroy you, boy! There are two of us, and only one of you!" exclaimed the man, leaping to his feet. His full figure now came into view, as it was hidden by the shadows cast by the fire around which the fighters stood. He was dressed like a common Easterner, his leather armor no where near complete, his clothes worn, his feet dirty. He wielded a sharp axe, and he was muscular. The same was true of his companion, although he was of slightly lesser build. "Die!" they yelled, charging at Saryn.
"So be it, if you wish it, I can kill you quickly, or slowly. It's your choice, really." declared Saryn, calmly.
"Boy, I'll skin 'yer hide and use it to carry my friend's dead body! You murderer!" yelled the smaller man. Saying this, they charged at the man with a terrible wrath.
Closing his eyes, Saryn said, "So be it." Saryn raised his blade and poised himself for battle.
The men charged at Saryn, their feet loudly stomping upon the soft earth as they traversed the short distance between themselves and the mysterious murderer. Saryn just stood there, his silver-streaked dai-katana hanging down from his left hand, it's sharp point just grazing the dirt. He looked at the ground. As the men neared, he tightened his grip on Azulaba, and his grinned widened across his pale face.
"Prepare to die, boy!" shouted the smaller man, raising his fell axe in the air, prepared to hew Saryn's body in half. As he neared Saryn, he began to lower his axe into a strong swing. Just before the edge of the man's axe was about to slice through Saryn, he rushed to the right. The man stopped, panting, with a confused look upon his brow. Then suddenly he felt a presence to his immediate left. It was too late however, as Saryn slashed his blade through the mid-section of the Easterner. The man fell to his knees, his torso drenched in dark red blood, his life source flowing out of him, and he collapsed onto a wooden log that had been laid about the fire. He could do naught but groan, for he was so dazzled by the sudden blow. His eyes looked to their right, and they saw that same evil grin upon Saryn's face as had been there when he slew their comrade. Slowly, his eyes closed shut, and he was silent forever more.
His partner witnessed the blow, and was infuriated. Charging very quickly at Saryn, he was full of rage, yet more cautious of his actions that his fallen friend. He readied his axe, and swung with a terrible wrath, but he struck nothing but air.
"Where has that man gone to?" he asked himself. All of a sudden, a silver streak made itself out in the sky. Azulaba went screeching through the air and pierced the man's temple, penetrating deep into his skull. The man fell dead instantly, a look of shock and horror frozen upon his face.
"Hmph. Well, I told you... Tisk tisk. Such a waste." said Saryn, looking at his last victim. "Oh well. Business is business." Pulling out his blade from the man's skull, he took a small rag from his pocket. It was worn, dyed red and stained with blood. Taking it into his palm, he cleaned the red blood off of his katana. After cleansing his blade, he looked at his dead opponents. Then, suddenly remembering something, he sheathed Azulaba in it's great black sheath, which hung at his waist like a sack of coins, and took out of his pocket a small dagger wrought of steel. "Well, no time like the present." he said sighing. Bending down next to the corpse, he took the knife in one hand and cut off the ear of the dead man. He then did the same to the next man. Taking the severed ears in his right hand, he hid his dagger and withdrew a small black bag. Dumping the ears into it, he got up and left the now desolate and empty camp. As he turned east, a wind blew across his face, and he was again at peace. Ever so quietly he began dashing in the eastward direction, stopping not, though the beautiful countryside often offered many great views, for he had to reach the city of Rarun by morning to meet his contact, and to drop off the ears of the dead men, a sign that he had done the deed.