Threas of Fate: Assasin Pt.1

Streamers and Fireworks filled the night sky. It was impossoble to move more than a walk through the crowded streets. The village of the winter swan was celebrateing the return of their hero, who just recently pushed back the invadeing forces of the golden lion. the war has been waged for nearly seven years, and the ice swan village has turned the tide the last year that Gen-rotin has been fighting in the front.

At no time were Gen-rotin was being talked about, he quickly became a legend amongst the villagers. Gen-rotin, the man that defeated twenty enamy soldiers as the ambushed the camp at night without wakeing any of his men. Gen-rotin, Who defeated twin blade masters single handedly useing ony a dagger. Gen-rotin, whose words inspired his unit of one hundered men to victroy over an army of a thousand.

He was carried through the streets tonight on a large golden throne. It was made especially for the ocasion, only the finest silks, diamonds, and jewels were on the throne. His own soldiers carried the large and heavy throne, but they held pride as they did. they were carrying a man that protected them and lead them to victories too many times to count. the rumor even began that Gen-rotin wasn't just a man, he was a child of a god of war, comeing to aid them during dark times.

Gen-rotin sat on his throne waving to the cheering villagers. He was built like a ox and as tall as one too. His black hair hung down to his neck and had a beautiful crown on top. He wore the finest robe made from the softest silk, blue and red colors in perfect balance with one another. The countries symbol, a swan emerging from ice, imbroitled in sparkeling rubies upon his chest. In truth, Gen-rotin felt he should be in uniform, he should still be out in battle, assureing one more safe night for the people. He knew that tonight wasn't what he wanted, it was what his country needed. they needed during this time to celebrate, to see a hero amongst themselves on the aniversery of their nation. So he waved.

As all eyes were focussed on their hero, no one took notice of the three shadows jumping from roof to roof, keeping close eye over him. Gen-rotin took notice of them early, but thought nothing of them. They were sent to protect him, but he knew if anything came up, he could protect himself more than they could.

Gen-rotin and his thrown were passing the center of town, he finally began to smile seeing all the happy people. It was suprise to him when a man dived out from under his thrown, turning to face him in less than a second. As a master swordsman, he learned to speed the thought process in his head, makeing everything else slow down; it saved him countless times in battle before. The man's skin was completly wrapped in wool bandages; he wore loose black pants with white flames stitched near his ankles. He had no shirt, just pices of metal on his shoulders, chest and abbs. His head, like the rest of him, was wrapped heavily in wool, makeing his head look large and round. At one time the bandages may have been white, now gray from untold amount of dirt and blood. in his right hand was a strange tonfa; he held it like anyother but the blade was much thicker and rounder than most, one tip going past his fist and the other tip near his elbow.

Gen-ronti wondered how the hell he was able to fit under his chair and how did no one notice it till now, but there was more important things to worry about. He reached under the hand rest for his conciled dagger, but the rest of him moved slowly as did the rest of the world. The assailant rushed forward, the direction of the blade rotateing in his hand so the long end with the blade's side was comeing towards him. Gen-rotin focussed all he had in bringing his dagger up to protect him, just intime to cloide with the assassin's. with the force he had, gen-rotin should be able to force the assassin back.

What Gen-rotin never thought of though, was what the assassin's blade was made of. It slid through the dagger like butter and continued forward. Gen-rotin had all the time in the world to watch as the blade passed though his neck. With all the blood going to his head, the blood exploded outwards, forceing the head to fly off. Everyone in the streets were still cheering, it all happened too fast for any of them to see.

A dozen knives sunk into the throne, surounding the assasin. the knives were made of a unique mineral with a glass vial in the handle that had enough room to slide back and forth. The glass would break when the knives made contact with anything hard enough, the vials were filled with a liquid that if mixed with the mineral in the knives would cause an explosion.

all the cheering people saw was a small blur and a explosion. no one looked up to see the assassin jump up and make his getaway; nor did they see the shadows chaseing him.

The assassin lept from roof top to roof top, the shadow figures in hot pursuit. the assassin was fast, but the shadows were catching up. one of the pursuers dashed forward to the point it was running beside the assassin, step by step. It drew a scythe from it's back and slashed from one side to the other. The assassin flipped backwards in the air, the blade just missing his head, before he dived down below into the streets. He landed on a food stand set up for the ocasion, and began hopping from other stands. The shadows were in close pursuit, not letting him out of their sights. when the stands came to a end, the assassin jumped up to the roof on the other side.

One of the shadows began throwing a stream of explodeing knives to him. they exploded in a trail of fire behind the assassin, the shadow couldn't predict his movements. The assasin lept, slid, flipped, dropped or raised himself; continueing to just advoid the explosions. Another shadow threw a net ahead of the assassin, hopeing to get him off guard. At sight of the net, the assassin stopped moveing forward, and lept at the three shadows.

He landed before the shadow that threw the net, and sliced through him horizontally. He grabbed the free floating top half and threw it at the bombe, knocking it down. The one with the sycthe slammed the blade down on him with enough force to stick into the roof. The assassin turned slightly and dodged the strike completely. He grabbed the scythe's handle, lifted himself off the ground, and kicked the shadow in the face, forceing it to slide near the edge of the roof. Before the remaining shadows had a chance to stand and fight more, the assassin threw smoke bombs at it's feet. When the smoke cleared, there was no sight of the assassin, just a once celebrating city now screaming over the death of it's hero.....