Rapture.
That was the singular term that she could think of as she prepared her room at the Green Dragon. The shutters were kept closed, allowing only a few newly purchased candles to light the room. Darkness was key; darkness would be her ally in this personal mission. Her personal vendetta that was years in the making.
Morrigan quietly took her place by the door as she thought of the events that led to her heart pounding in such a manner. Through her… friends she had learned of the arrival of a specific Templar from Scotland. A Grandmaster that wished to both visit the Colonies and to establish some sort of personal trade business from his own tastes. She remembered him all too well. Those few weeks she had spent as his…
No, she would not think of that now.
Morrigan had laid the bait out though a male friend that made an offer that matched the tastes her memory linked him to have.
The bastard snapped it up like a greedy pig.
Now all that this trap needed was its prey.
Morrigan waited in silence still, and every hour made her all the more eager, her hatred festering like an infected wound buried deep within. The tavern was in full force and soon there was a squeal of an unoiled hinge. The door was opening and she recognized the silhouette.
Morrigan could not help but freeze as she felt terror long since lodged in the back of her mind, its dusted recesses that Morrigan had always left well alone. But she knew she needed to do this. Too long had the failure of her first kill weighed on her mind.
How many more children had been subjected to the bastard's tastes?
How many ended up buried because they could not survive a night in his torture chambers let alone his bed?
Morrigan's resolve swiftly became iron-clad; her movements were fluid as she slammed the door shut, bolting it tight.
"It has been far too long Baron…"
Morrigan tiled her head as she studied her work. The wretch was whimpering like a beaten dog and rightly so. His blood and urine soaked his trousers. He would never walk again if he somehow lived; her blade had torn the muscles completely. "I beg you! Please have mercy! I forgive you! I forgive you for taking my eye just do not kill me!"
Morrigan raised a brow.
Begging… he had fallen so far as to begging before she could even give him a sampling of her trauma. The Assassin knelt down, her knee embedded in the begging Templar's chest.
The Creed spoke of providing a clean death.
"My, my…"
That no one deserved suffering at the end of their lives.
Morrigan used her thumb and forefinger to stretch open the lids of his eyes.
"What lovely eyes you have…"
The Creed had no place in this act.
Her grievances would be assuaged through wretched suffering.