I do not own the Forgotten Realms setting. The Forgotten Realms setting is the property of Wizards of the Coast. The Assassin (main character) is my creation along with the plot and many of the characters.

Chapter One: The Release

High Cleric Daogemar of the Church of Cyric, along with two prison guards and one other cleric, walked down one of the many long, hot, dirty hallways deep within the prison. One of the guards carried a large book that contained each cell number and what the man or woman in the cell did to land them there. They finally reached the cell number Two hundred thirty six.

"His Name?" said Daogemar.

"Zilus Attikus" replied the guard carrying the book.

"His Charge?"

"Theft from a merchant."

"How long ago was he put in this shit hole?"

"It has been twenty one years."

It was then that Daogemar knew that this man was the assassin who made the deal with Cyric. He examined the man, besides the dirty appearance, this man did not look a moon passed twenty two. He knew this was the man Cyric had told him to release.

"How much for his release?" asked Daogemar.

"Three hundred gold, since his crime has long been forgotten," answered the second guard.

"We accept."

The assassin was handed over to the Cleric two hours later. The three men had a silent walk across Calimport to The Heavy Sun Inn, the inn in which they were spending the night. They set up their beds in the small room, the assassin sleeping on the floor. He did not mind, at least the floor was somewhat clean compared to the muddy cell floors of the Calimport prison. The assassin bathed in the small tub that was filled with cold water and he was given some worn dark clothing, two short swords, and a cloth mask. Once they had all settled down, Daogemar could not wait to speak with the assassin who had remained silent since they had left the prison.

"Zilus Attikus is it?" asked the High Cleric.

The assassin shook his head, "I am Samael Nytsyn. I used the name Zilus Attikus so that my identity would not be discovered."

"You are a clever one, Samael, and I take it you know why we have come to get you."

"I know it is not the fact that I speak a lot," he laughed as he laid back.

The two clerics gave half laughs, they knew how dangerous this assassin was and they did not know how far his limits went. They surely did not want to push him there. They would not admit it but they were terrified of the man. Any mortal, assassin or no assassin, that made a deal with Cyric and upheld his part, had to have some sort of great inner evil within him.

"Sleep well, for the High Cleric Voshoroom awaits us at the Temple of Cyric in Memnon. We are taking the first boat out of Calimport in the morning."

The assassin slept peacefully, but it was his second nature to be constantly alert at all times. If he heard footsteps, he would jump up and unsheathe his swords almost instantly. As for the Clerics, they couldn't sleep because the very presence of the assassin terrified them, just as Samael Nytsyn liked it to be.

He stood just under six feet, with a lean and slightly muscular body. His eyes were a dark hazel and he had short black hair. His face would be hansom only if it weren't for his evil features such as the tattoo of a black sun under his right eye and the numerous scars across the left side of his face. He made many around him uncomfortable in the past. He had a dark aura that followed him. Legends recited by Cyric's enemies said that this unknown Assassin did not cast a shadow; rather a shadow casts him to do the work the shadow cannot.

Samael enjoyed these legends, even wanting to believe many of them himself.

The men had managed to find sleep in the presence of the assassin. During Samael's sleep, Cyric approached him in a dark dream. It had been many years since he had last spoke to the Prince of Lies, the reunion was a sigh of relief for the assassin.

"Greetings, dark one." Cyric had always referred to him as the dark one.

"My lord."

"It has been a while since we had last spoken hasn't it?" Cyric sat on a dark throne, black smoke moving around him.

"Yes it has. The cleric told me you seek my services once again?" The assassin was also straight to the point.

"Speaking about that cleric. You first need to kill him and the other that is with him. They are escorting you to a High Cleric in Memnon, where they are planning to use your service for personal use then kill you."

He had already known what they were planning on doing with him. He knew how people acted from past experiences. Their nervousness in his prescense gave away that they hoped he wouldn't find out about their plan.

"After you dispose of them, go and meet with the halfling Toplin Harveymay at the docks. He has something for you." Cyric smiled as the smoke engulfed him, discontinuing the meeting.

The assassin woke and immediately glanced out of the only window. Sunrise was near, he needed to hurry. He quietly rose from the floor, unsheathing one of the shortswords. His first target was the aprentice cleric, who had fell asleep on the chair overlooking him. He set the sword on the cleric's lap and moved behind him. A quick snap of the neck and his target leaned forward. He then moved to Daogemar, who was sleeping on the small bed. Samael jumped onto the bed, his cat-like grace barely making a sound as he landed. Daogemar's eyes slowly opened, his vision blurred.

"Do not attempt to trick the father of trickery," Samael recited, a line that Cyric had used so many times to those who proved disloyal to him. Before the cleric could yell for help, the assassin swung the blade low, cutting Daogemar's neck open horizontally. Sheathing the sword, he quickly jumped off of the bed, picked both of the corpse's pockets for some money, and opened the window. The money would be counted later, usually spent on food and drink.

A quick hop out of the window and he fell silently into the back alley. He slowly crept through the shadows, avoiding a few homeless men and women. No one was after him, but he developed a trait to always take things slow and go on through life looking over your shoulder.