Chapter two: Allow me to introduce…
The stallion trotted at a slow and laid back pace, uncaring and un-fased by the dangers that could be lurking in the Everfree forest. Insurmountable amounts of beasts and wild creatures watched his every move, as small growls of the nearby timber wolves could be heard alongside the distant roar of manticors. The assassin could care less. He stopped to get his bearings, looking up to watch the stars; he gave a frustrated frown at the lack of light penetrating the thick canopy of trees. But then, the Everfree wasn't exactly known for being the most hospitable places in Equestria.
After a second of fruitlessly staring at the trees, he relaxed his body and opened his other senses; the lack of light made his sight useless, but in turn caused him to turn his focus to his hearing, although, little could be heard over the sound of the creatures trying and failing to intimidate the assassin with their snarls and roars. He flared his nostrils, taking in a deep breath, and taking in the scents of the vicinity; though he didn't pick up any individual smells, the forest leaves and vegetation mixed with the animals' unwashed furs, skins and nests merged together in the air, creating a musk that would cause any not acquainted with the forest to lose their last meal. He did, however, pick up the strong breeze coming his way, by recognizing the sudden focus in odors coming from one direction. The traveler leapt atop a large boulder and turned his gaze to the night sky.
The wind blew through the trees and parted them, revealing Luna's night, constellations and moon alike. Part of him hated the night sky, though never the night itself as it would always be his hour as assassins were almost exclusively nocturnal, but because he had gotten a lot of grief from the princess of the night in recent years. If any wondered why her appearances in dreams where a rarity, it was because she was busy in his head tormenting him and conducting a smattering of some off the books torture via his dreams. Fun and games for all ages. Though at the same time he would always appreciate the night sky a little better than anypony else, seeing that he was well acquainted with nocturnal hours and darkness, but it was mainly because after years of gazing up to the sky he had grown to appreciate its beauty like nopony else, maybe asides Luna herself, in that in all the night sky's simplicity, the complexity that were the star patterns were something truly awe inspiring. Also, the occupation of 'murderous outlaw' was not one that was smiled upon by general society so, staying incognito was high on his list of priorities and moving around at night was the best way to do this.
The wind brought with it cold air but the assassin was not so foolish as to not come to the infamous forest unprepared. He was never unprepared. The assassin wore four pieces of clothing; this could be considered strange in a land in which ponies went around letting their fur protect them from the elements, with the citizens of Canterlot being the only ponies to regularly where clothes. The assassin's interest in clothing, however, was far from fashion related; the hood he wore was a deep black, with crimson stitches and lining, did marvels to protect his face from prying eyes, while the material kept his face protected from cold winds and colour scheme hid him well in the shadows. The he wore a vest over his chest, a simple black colour with its design being a simple looking shirt, the collar covering the lower back of the neck(where, for whatever reason, ponies liked to aim for decapitations), was beaten and torn in places, a large scar-like looking stitch ran up the left side, over the heart. The vest was more than a piece of clothing however, as it was made from a rare marital that even the most generous of ponies would squander to themselves. The thread was known as Robus-weave, as strong as dragon hide and as light as a cloud. The cape he had on his back followed suit in terms of colour and design for the hood, while keeping the motley attitude of the vest, torn and ragged patches running across it in no small number, the kind of damage that could only come from years of wear and tear. He wore the cloak simply to protect him from the elements, and occasionally use as a cover when he found himself sleeping against a tree.
The final thing the stallion wore was a simple brown leather belt, which he always kept hidden as wearing leather, or using it at all, was considered taboo. What the belt supported, however, was much more questionable. On the left side, a small, red silk sash was tied to the belt, tied to said sash was a black scabbard and inside the scabbard was the blade the assassin wielded. The blade was a Japony styled katana, the length of the blade forming a short-sword by the one whom forged it, so it would be as effective slashing throats as it was in a dual. The guard depicted a dragon eating its tail, an ouroboros, made of dark bronze metal, the miniscule details of the scales and wings immaculate, a deep red ruby forming the glared and narrowed eye. The guard had easily been the most complex phase of crafting, when the blade had been forged. The hilt of dark oak wood, as light as the blade for perfect balance, was laced in red and black leather, the pommel tipped with the same dark bronze as the guard. On the other side of the pony's belt were three pouches, the one in the center contained fifteen throwing knives, packed close together so they didn't make a sound when the pony trotted. The upper pouch kept navigational items; a rusty iron compass he wold use when the clouds covered the sun or the stars were not out (though this was a rather rare occurrence), a small and heavily folded map of Equestria and a small but powerful telescope. The third pouch, situated below the knife pouch, contained medical supplies; a pair of syringes containing a powerful pain killer, bandages and short book on medicinal herbs in case of emergency. A second, stronger gust of wind hit the assassin, knocking off the hood though, he did nothing to fix it.
He had a menacingly sharp unicorn horn atop his head that ebbed with magic, dark magic that only somepony of his profession would ever take the time to learn and master, a horn that, when used, cast an intimidating and eerie grey glow that had been the last light to grace some many ponies souls. The mane on his head was of a somewhat strange colour, its deep and endless black did not shimmer nor reflect any type of light, but instead it drank in the darkness around him, matching its colour to the night. Because of this strange quality and unnameable colour, the assassin would always describe his mane as having the 'colour of midnight'. The mane was not particularly well kept either, simply doing as it pleased, which normally consisted of matching the flow of the wind and reacting accordingly to weather, and stretched far down his neck to his back, the fringe going slightly over his eyes, in its unkempt and windswept appearance. His tail followed suit, matching the manes colour and fashion, draping down his hind legs, though not reaching the ground. The face and features of the pony were not altogether outstanding, nor different, not a handsome stallion by any means seeing as a life time of fighting and espionage took its toll on one's complexion. A face with deep, stubborn wrinkles on the brow, along the jaw bones, at the corners of the eye and around the maw would meet anypony to gaze upon this stallion's face, but it was the deep, ugly, disfiguring scar that ran from above the left eye, down the muzzle, cutting the corner of the mouth and over the chin that would hold their interest, if their disgust. The eyes, however, were of a completely different story. They never seemed to open completely, always slightly closed as if analyzing something or trying to take in everything the world had to offer in terms of visual information. The blood red irises soaked in every detail and seemed to bore into any one he looked at, not to mention the pony had a strange habit of looking hard at the pony he was about to speak to, making them feel uncomfortable under his gaze, as though they were being interrogated rather than spoken to. Then there was the eyes other feature, something much stranger and much less believable. Something more mysterious and much more dangerous, if it were not used correctly. It was the kind of ability that Celestia herself could not pull off, or at least not as accurately as the dark coloured pony. And something he rarely discussed.
A new gust of wind, slightly stronger than the last, blew through the forest, dancing amongst the trees and causing their branches to sway as if waving at its passing. Said wind flowed swiftly past the assassin, and the cape he wore blew up around him. The rising of the cape revealed the build of an athlete, the kind of physic that other unicorns would simply never bothered with as they tended to spend more time with their magic rather than their bodies. The killer's frame held the muscles of somepony who clearly valued movement speed over brute force and strength. He left that to the earth ponies. Instead he had the muscle mass of a lean but strong pony, a champion galloper, perhaps the ground equivalent to the Wonderbolts' body style. His height made him noticeable, but not so much that he stood out to great an amount; the average pony size being maybe four foot on average, a taller, bulkier pony like, say, a farmpony would be could range from four and a half to five foot while the fully grown Alicorn would be coming up to six foot and maybe taller. The assassins stood at four foot, nine inches at full height, though with the lean muscles of an assassin unicorn and lack of body mass of the thicker boned earth-pony, he looked strangely proportioned for one whose race where genially smaller in size and less physically powerful, asides of course the royal unicorn guards who were renown for their impressive physical power, nomatter the race. The breeze also revealed the stallion's cutie mark but, like the rest of the assassin, it was strange and the kind of thing one could not put their hoof on. An ouroboros, much like the one on his blade, adorned his flank with a dagger stabbing through the loop it made. Such a design would be considered inexplicable as most cutie marks represented the wearer's personality or special talent. It was to do with, you see, his eyes. Ask yourself; 'what about a pony is immortal, as an ouroboros represents'. The two princesses, Celestia and Luna, are the two only real immortal that everypony knows of and asides from them nopony else is known to have eternal life. So the question remains 'what is immortal about everypony, without exception.' The soul. The everlasting force that resides behind the eyes of every living thing in Equestria and beyond, the mysterious spirit that reflected your true self better than words or even you cutie mark could ever express. This pony had the ability to see the soul through the eyes of the subject, or victim depending on the circumstances and see exactly who they were… for better or worse. Admittedly, this may not be the most useful of powers for an assassin, but this was no normal assassin. This assassin was anything but normal, this was an assassin with morals, with a code. Something he created on a contract that would change his life. For better or for worse, he did not yet know.
The code came in the form of three rules, each as important as the last, and all chosen for the same reasons. His first rule of conduct was that he always refrained from killing an innocent; never a witness or patrolling guard, but anypony willing to attack him was fair game as far as he was concerned.
"If you're strong enough to kill, you're strong enough to die" as his instructor used to say.
The second rule of conduct was that he never left a job half done, as when he deemed a target worthy of death it was on his reputation and personal pride that the target would die. He knew in his heart that if he had to chase a target to the end of the world, he would.
The third rule of conduct was to always ask questions, having been brought up in an environment of lies (a story for another day) he had began to doubt and wonder about everything around him. Be it the information of a contact or the tracking down of a mark he wouldnever stop his pondering. Helping this part of his code was his overbearing curiosity. Often had he been warned that curiosity kills the cat, but in his case, they'd yet to be proven right.
Having figured out his position in the Everfree, the lone stallion fixed his hood and prepared to leap from his boulder and back to the ground, but his eye caught something he hadn't noticed before. The dark stallion had looked up past the stars to the moon and grinned.
'Can't be a coincidence, surely' was the only thing to cross his mind as he looked up to the moon with the red hue, the moon that he was so masterfully named after. The moon that heralded the harvest with its most common and greatly accepted name, the Harvest moon, which was otherwise known as the Hunter's moon. That had been appropriately nicknamed Blood Moon. The name of the stallion that stood below it, the name of the assassin that would not kill unless he judged it necessary. The name of the assassin that was now, once again, trotting through the Everfree forest like he was taking a slow, relaxing stroll around a park and was on his way to his next contract.