The vision of seeing someone murdered
Was not a beneficial starting point for a conversation.
The mere eye contact that I had received
As I walked by him was enough.
I did not want to achieve too much on that night.
I eagerly desired to view the reaction of society.
I did not want to lessen my skill level
By becoming greedy with my intentions.
I wanted to leave with the idea
That I would live to kill another day.
The next day I awoke to a grey wolf licking my face.
At first, I was startled,
But the mannerisms of the wolf were kind and gentle.
Any normal person would have run
From such an carnivorous beast, but
I saw something very likeable in the eyes of the animal.
It reminded me of myself;
Misunderstood, angry and capable of violent acts.
The wolf’s teeth were coated with blood.
Her surrounding fur was also drenched in the substance.
My first thought was that she was hurt.
After running my hands across her body
It was determined that she was not wounded.
She led me down into the hidden room
Where the stench of death was very intense.
A lone man was shackled to the wall and missing his legs.
He was still alive, but his lower limbs had been chewed.
It was apparent that my friend had been feasting.Amon must have captured him late.
I wondered if she knew that he was being devoured by the stray.
I could not have been further from the truth
As the wolf slowly morphed into Amon.
I had my suspicions ever since the beast spared me,
But the idea of shape shifting was even beyond my reality.
I grasped the concept quickly though as it occurred before my eyes.
She offered no reasoning; I offered no questions.
Wiping blood from her lips,
She stated that she was no longer hungry and
I could gift him death if I so desired.
The decision was easy for me
As the first morning kill
Had always been very satisfying.
The man was trembling from the loss of blood.
He could barely keep his eyes open.
I presented him death
With one dagger deep in the temple.
The blade prompted his eyes to widen, but
They would retain no vision.
If they did, it would have been of my face.
I withdrew my weapon with no care.
Amon informed me that the city was alive
With tales of a hooded assassin
Sent to taunt the wealthy.
The news appeased me,
However, I wanted to see and hear for myself.
Knowing that my hood would only cause suspicion,
I walked around the streets with it folded down.
Amon was correct;
There was a sense of desperation felt within the city.
There were an increased number of guards patrolling and
A decreased amount of wealthy about.
I smiled knowing that I forced
Not only my victims,
But the entire society of wealthy into a realm of fear.
Of course, not all of them were hidden
As there was still a great amount roaming about.
These were the untouchable ones,
Those who believed they had nothing to fear.
Their egos were still intact as well as their mannerisms
Towards those who were not like them.
The peasants viewed the hooded assassin as their savior.
Many of them wore their hoods
To tease those who walked by them.
The guards did not take kindly to that
And provided beatings to anyone
Who was caught wearing one.
The scene of peasant kids running
With hoods and wooden daggers
Brought me down from my murderous plateau.
My emotions became mutated in my mind,
I did not know what to think.
Had I done more wrong than right?
Had I somehow made society worse than it actually was?
I needed time to think.
I had been blinded by my own personal hatred.
I could not see the effects of my actions.
I slid into a corridor where I was greeted by Amon in wolf form.
She was not her pleasant self.
I told her that I could not kill anymore
And left my daggers on the ground before her.
I walked back out into the street
Leaving her behind in the shadows.
I walked amongst the crowds
And heard the numerous stories of the phantom hooded assassin.
I overheard that he would kill the wealthy while they slept,
Giving their riches to the poor.
I heard tales they he was not a man,
But a demon built from the darkness
And that he only appeared at night.
They also told that he was part dragon
That would attack from above,
Take his prey back to a cave
Where he would feast upon them.
It was obvious that the wealthy and guards
Were arming themselves for protection.
I bypassed one such man
Adding gold tipped feathers to manmade arrows.
I saw another sharpening his sword.
All of these tales sounded so much better than the truth.
Somehow the story of an angry peasant
Seeking revenge on the wealthy
Did not have a powerful underbelly.
They would have to keep their stories
As I was done killing.
I fulfilled my need and sought out my revenge.
There was nothing else to kill for.
I grew tired of hearing the tales carried by the wind
And ventured underground for one last time.
The place was unusually quiet.
There was neither screams from the near dead
Nor the stench of the decayed.
My reign of terror had come to an end.
I was anxious to start a new life, again.
That was until I heard the faint sound of whimpering
Coming from the hidden room.
My curiosity guided me down the tunnel.
I paused for a brief moment to prepare myself
As my mind had weakened a great deal
Since the last I had been there.
I pushed open the door to find Amon still in her wolf form
Lying upon the ground.
I kneeled down beside her to provide comfort
While I searched her body for wounds.
My instincts were correct,
An arrow with gold tipped feathers
Was protruding from her mid-section
Her wound was devastating
With the tip puncturing her lung.
She tried desperately to breathe,
But it was not sustainable enough for her.
My subsided anger that I had suppressed rose once again.
My emotions were so intense that they became uncontrollable.
They escalated even higher
As I saw my daggers near her lifeless body.
Vengeance and judgment was what I had to offer now.
I could no longer offer the city peace and calm.
There was no room for those emotions
In a society plagued with greed and selfishness.
I provided the balance between the weak and the strong;
Between the poor and the wealthy.
&
nbsp; The daggers felt so good back within my hands.
They desired more blood to spill across their blades.
My blinded fury forced me out from the underground
While the sun was still in the sky.
I knew I should have sought out patience,
But my anguish was at its peak.
No words or thoughts would have postponed my desires.
I utilized the small amounts of shadows to my benefit.
It was not as concealing as the dark of night,
But it was manageable.
My anger was relentless
And benefited no one within my path.
Anyone who was standing
Within the shadows to avoid the sun was my prey.
I left most of my victims hidden in the darkness
And posed them as if they were a sleeping peasant.
It was easier than I had imagined
As the crowd never noticed the dead piling up around them.
Some would even step over the corpses as they exited corridors.
I made it a habit to unfold my hood while in the light
To avoid any confrontations with the guards,
However, in the shadows my hood became an evil veil.
I was moving at such a rapid pace that I had forgotten it was up.
Two guards grabbed me,
Pulled me inside a room to question me.
They were relaxed in their mannerisms
As the tediousness of questioning
Many people before me weighed heavy on them.
They quoted their standard comments
Regarding the evil prowler and
Asked me if I had seen anything.
My response of yes struck them with much confusion.
I went on to say that I saw a man
Kill another by using two daggers much like the ones I carry.
To say that they were disturbed
Would be an understatement
As I held my beloved weapons in my hands
Drenched in blood, that clung to the blades
Like rain drops on a leaf.
They were startled by me and
Fumbled to reach their swords, but
Their hands would never touch the handles.
I leaped between them,
Shoved my dagger of vengeance within the mouth of one and
Slid my blade of judgment across the throat of the other.
I stepped forward in order to avoid
Being crushed by their falling armored bodies.
Death was quick and painless for them with no defense.
I wiped my blades on a nearby cloth chair,
As they were in desperate need of cleansing.
They each held the blood of at least five kills
Dulling their sharpness and beauty.
After, I exited from the room.
I kept close to the shadows
As I moved along the streets
On my quest for the arrow maker.
I was a living reaper and the street was my burial ground.
I passed a man sharpening several of his blades
With his back to the shadows.
I witnessed him swat at a local boy
Who was fascinated by the shiny metal.
The vulgar language of the man
Scared the child away and provided me with a reason.
He was very skilled at sharpening the blades
As his head came cleanly off
With a lone strike from one of his swords.
I was impressed and could have benefited from his skill.
My pace increased as I searched for the arrow maker.
I desired his blood dripping down my palms;
I needed to taste the essence of his soul.
I would not have to wait long as I soon approached his abode.
His table was vacant outside
With various pieces of arrows residing atop of it.
I stepped out from the momentum of the crowd
And slid into the inlet of the door.
I peered inside and noticed nothing unusual
Except the eerie sound of silence.
I cautiously crept further inside
Into the main living quarter where
I saw the man sitting with his back to me.
I approached him slowly and drew one of my daggers.
As I neared him, I was grabbed from behind by two guards
With a third stepping between me and my prize.
The old man stood and announced that she was right.
The guards held me tight and
Pulled my judgment dagger from my grip.
The man demanded the weapon and the guards obliged.
He also demanded that I be weakened,
The guards obliged to that as well.
They assaulted me heavily and continuously
Until I could no longer stand.
The old man halted the attack and walked towards me.
He plunged my own dagger within my chest.
He judged me for my crimes against society.
The pain was unlike anything I had ever experienced,
But I was not ready to die.
The infliction gave me one last empowerment.
It allowed me to unveil my dagger of vengeance
And find every blind joint within the armor of the three guards.
I cut them deep and hard,
Forcing them to assume the position of death.
As they awaited the reaper, I stood above them,
Not as a God, not as a savior,
But rather as someone who was dying slower than them.
I stood in front of the old man
With one dagger in my hand and the other in my chest.
I was dying,
But knowing that I would take him with me
Provided the idea with comfort.
With just enough power,
I stabbed my free weapon into his chest
And applied downward pressure on the handle
To tear through the flesh of the man.
I wanted to cause him great pain before he died
And I had succeeded.
I cleansed the blade on his robe
To rid the metal of his pungent blood.
My legs were no longer strong enough to support me.
I opted for a solution that would
Continue my wrath long after I was gone.
I removed my hooded cloak and threw it in the fireplace.
I rotated my dagger to point at my heart.
The scene in the room would look like
My numerous other kills and
Prompt the notion that the assassin was still alive.
I wanted the wealthy to continue to fear me
After I was gone.
I wanted them to constantly look around them
As they walked the streets.
I wanted them to focus more on me than their money.
I also desired that my fellow peasants
Hold onto the empowerment that I had gifted them.
They needed them to believe that
Money and wealth did not separate us.
Fear was a characteristic
That equalized everyone and made us all the same.
It was the one trait that we all had in common.
As blood poured from me,
I peered out of the window one last time and saw her.
She stared back at me and
Offered me that infamous seductive smile.
Amon stood in the street
With two grey wolves on either side of her.
My eyes grew heavy,
As I saw her blend into the crowded street.
I believed I had taught the wealthy a lesson,
That they would not soon forget.
I prayed that the fear of me would haunt their dreams.
I worried about the peasants and
Hoped that I had done enough t
o free their minds.
I was unsure how the future
Would turn out with my inability to prowl the streets.
My answer came in the vision of a small peasant boy
Staring in through window at me.
I do not know if the vision was real or not,
I did not care as it brought me peace.
The boy looked upon me as if he knew who I was.
He studied the room, the blood,
The various dead bodies then back to me.
He was neither afraid of me
Nor the gruesome scene that laid out before him.
He gave me peace with his eyes;
Freedom from his demeanor.
His next action provided me with the answer
That I had been seeking for.
He folded up his hood and concealed his face.
I saw myself within him,
Stabbed the dagger into my heart
And waited patiently for death.
I was able to die that day
Knowing that my legacy
Would continue within the streets.
Life drained from me within that wealthy room
With judgment in my chest and
Vengeance in my heart.
~
I stopped writing for a brief moment
Due to a small glimmer of confusion
That brought about a few questions.
It appears that the past events are being removed from my mind.
I know this may sound absurd to those who read this,
But I can no longer recall what I just transcribed.
The collection of my recent work
Is written in a language that I am unfamiliar with.
How could I have possibly written those words?
The idea is quite the conundrum.
I was away from my quill for quite some time,
As it seems the mischievous shadows have returned.
They seem very gentle in appearance overall, however
I have noticed that only seven reside in the cave now, unless
I am mistaken.
I am still trying to decipher the language of my past pages.
My current writings are in my native language,
But as I end a page,
The language alters during the movement
To the completed pile.