 Posted:
Thu Apr 03, 2008 4:43 pm |
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(This large manuscript was found stored in a metal box in the ruins of a small cabin deep in the Mountains of Solitude.)
It is likely that I will be long gone by the time anyone reads the words which I am recording here but, perhaps, they can provide someone some form of insight or, at least, an interesting tale. Life is a constant adjustment of perspective and this is my perspective of the realm adjusted over nearly four score years.
I will try to remain blunt for the sake of simplicity and for the sake of the reader who does not know who I am. I am a murderer. I am a thief, a taker of things much more important than material goods. I am law and the refusal of law. I am part of the most dominant institution to ever exist. I am also a businessman of great means. I have been called by many names, some of which are little known and some of which may always be known. I am Kaid Evershade, the Shrouded Blade.
I once wrote a detailed account of my younger years, the time before I began living in Tyr, but to my knowledge all copies have been lost. The last copy I possessed was destroyed by fire in the final defense of the Tyr Merchant Guild. I feel no desire to recount again the story of my boyhood and formative years so I will begin this story of my life from the moment I first stepped through the Farmer’s Gate of Tyr, the moment my public life began, so to speak.
I was seventeen at the time. As a matter of fact, it was only a few days after my seventeenth birthday that I first arrived in Tyr. I remember hearing stories of it, a hard-bitten city where the strong survived and the bold grew rich. I, of course, considered myself to be both strong and bold, so I looked forward to making a name for myself there. That first day was a momentous one. It was only a short time after I had started my exploration of the city that I met my first adventurer, as the inhabitants of Tyr often refer to themselves. He was a huge man and incredibly imposing in full armor. He was also completely hairless. He was bald, had no eyebrows, and didn’t even have eyelashes as far as I could tell. I was standing in the Inner Sanctum of Cheuntelia’s Temple and he rushed in, handed the priest some gold, and hefted a heavy mace in his hand, obviously already having a use in mind for the weapon. He gave me a quick glance and introduced himself as Urad, then barely waited for my response before clanking back out the door.
At that point I adjusted my thinking somewhat. I had always thought Tyr would be like an oyster, just waiting for me to crack it open and take the pearl. Everything I had done up to that point in my life had come easily for me. That was why I rarely stayed in one place for very long, I suppose. I would arrive and succeed, then move on to succeed somewhere else in grander fashion. Tyr turned out to be the culmination of this tendency and my vagrancy ended there. Before my life came to an end, I would view the whole world as my oyster, and my guild as its pearl. But, first, I would have to fight for it. If all the people I would come across were like the man I had just met, I might have to work hard, after all. I was still sure I would succeed, however. I was never one to cloud my mind with doubts.
That first day, I continued my exploration of the city, learning all of its aspects. I briefly poked around at the Lucky Lady Tavern, listening to the random talk and taking a look at the public boards. I stopped by each of the shops lining Baron’s Boulevard, noticing in passing the spectacle of the giant Urad reshaping a knight’s armor for him, while the knight was still inside, and finally found myself in a well-stocked shop just off the main thoroughfare by the name of Tristea’s Treats and Treasures. That shop no longer exists and hasn’t for quite some time now. The building was eventually bought by an old friend of my adolescence by the name of Bralkin Barnaby. You wouldn’t believe how surprised I was when he showed up about two decades later. He had refused to come to Tyr with me originally, complaining that it sounded too dangerous for him. He was probably right, too, he had always been a little on the meek side, but he had a knack for ‘business’ as he called it. That is, he had a knack for taking advantage of people.
As I stood perusing the merchandise on the shelves, I suddenly heard a voice at my shoulder and there stood a man who I could swear hadn’t been there a moment before. I will remember his words always:
“Greetings, Brother. Let me take you to see the Guild Master.â€Â
How he knew that I was coming I will never positively know, though I suspect that my small-time successes as an adolescent had brought me to the attention of some powerful men. I also marveled at the certainty with which he named me Brother. I had never been anyone’s brother. Other than an occasional short-term friendship I had been completely unattached to anyone or anything in the world except my own self-interest since the age of eleven and that had been the way I planned to keep it. The stranger then introduced himself as Aranon and told me to follow him because there were several people waiting to meet me.
He led me quickly to the northern end of the city and into a large park. Ducks paddled around happily in a fair-sized pond and squirrels rested, chittering belligerently as we passed, in the branches of the trees around us. The northern edge of the park was lined with thick bushes and Aranon sure-footedly walked to a place where a gap no wider than two or three feet led under the trees. I was stunned as a massive building suddenly loomed up in front of us. It was huge, but impossible to see from the park, and a tree larger than any other in the city rose, apparently, right out from the middle of the building.
I remember then that Aranon turned to me and grinned, displaying some of the pride of being a member of the Guild that I could not yet share. He led me past a pair of hulking stone giants and into the foyer of the building. The sheer size of the structure could only be matched by the luxury of its interior. Few people have seen the beauty that was the Tyr Merchant Guild. Now it is just scorched rubble in a solid stone shell, and is one of the greatest losses the realm has ever known. Little of its original splendor still shows. But, back in those days it took your breath away when you first saw it. The foyer was extremely large and built of rich, dark wood. A huge portrait, a masterpiece, of some great, early assassin hung over a door on the wall opposite the entrance. Aranon led me through that door into a large courtyard centered around the tree I mentioned earlier. Flowers bloomed along small dirt paths among the thick, springy grass. Nothing grows there now, but the tree still stands.
Then we entered a large library with shelves made of the same wood that walled the foyer. More books and scrolls than I had ever seen in one place before in my life lined those shelves. Even this room, however, paled in comparison to the knowledge held in the Room of All Knowing, just a few chambers away. Several men stood around the room, discussing some matter of guild politics when Aranon and I entered. There were two elves, a gnome, and a halfling.
I was introduced to the elves first, Raltric and Roulaine. Then the gnome gave me a gruff nod and introduced himself as Riclizer and Aranon led me up to the halfling, who had quite an odd appearance. His hair was cut in a fashion I had never seen before and was as green as the grass in the courtyard I had just walked through. I believe he dyed it with some sort of boiled leaf, but I never asked. I noticed that his eyes were an odd shade of blue, but as I looked closer I decided that they were actually more like purple. I don’t know how that happened but he explained it as a rare trait in halflings.
“I am Ikho, Guild Master of the Assassin’s Guild. Welcome, Kaid.†I remember that he said this with a broad grin and his eyes held a glint that I could only interpret as recognition. This was probably the single most important moment in my entire life. It irrevocably changed the course of my future and, to a large extent, the future of the realm.
I made a response, for some reason going out of my way to try and please these men. Normally, I couldn’t have cared less whether I angered someone or not, but even in those first moments I think I unwittingly understood the gravity of the situation. I would become one of these men and they would become me. That is the true secret of the Assassin’s Guild, our glory. Raltric and Roulaine were my left and right arms while I was earning my way, Ikho was as important to me as the head on my shoulders and I was the same to them. You may not see this as a huge revelation, but nobody lives this like the Merchants and that is why we are dominant.
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At my elder’s urging, I took a name for myself that no one has heard for many decades. I became the Golden Shadow. As the Golden Shadow I learned much. The Assassins were making a play to be the most powerful guild in the realm, at the expense of the Mage’s Guild. I was too fresh to partake in any of the conflict but still those early days shaped me.
I was mentored by Ikho, as well as by Dansar and Hestor and Hari. Raltric and Roulaine took care to make sure I learned my way around. But my true right hand, my partner in crime those early days, so to speak, was a man named Klitch. Very few people are aware of the bond Klitch and I shared as young members of our guild and our tale is one of great uniqueness. We traveled the lands around Tyr, Klitch usually landing himself in some kind of trouble with me there to bail him out. He was ever the rambunctious one and that leap-before-you-look mentality proved, in my opinion, to be one of the major contributors to our parting of ways. But I digress.
Klitch and I became blood brothers. We were as close as kin, bonded by ancient rite, but still two different people. The years would prove to be too large a test for those differences. Those early days were splendid and still hold a prominent place in my memories, though the details have faded with the passage of time. We would both eventually rise to guild leadership, but of different guilds, and time would turn politics into enmity. I say enmity, but that was not really what it was. I simply hold life in lower esteem than most people and Klitch’s became no different. Our relationship officially ended, more or less, with his lifeblood leaking out onto my blades. But that, it seems, is the life of an Assassin. When death is your life the two often overlap in places you never could have foreseen.
The Merchant Guild’s play for supremacy paid off and our ascension was cemented with a second war between the Merchants and the Mages. It was in that contest that my prowess first began flourishing as I bested each of my Mage contemporaries and, in the process, cemented my place as a young up-and-comer. I was, however, defeated by Ambros, who was even at that time one of the greatest Mages to ever live, an event that would always remain in the back of my mind. He summoned me into the depths of Hell, where even if he did not defeat me, something else likely would. That was one of Ambros’ specialties: luring an adversary into a place where he controlled the only access. I would end up taking advantage of that tendency at a later date. Know your enemy.
The rest of those early years passed in a frenzy of vivacity. Life was rich, and got richer the more I learned. I worked hard, first off, at being able to look after myself. My cohorts and I roamed the world, leaving a bloody wake behind us. We gained power and wealth and influence. Our guild became even stronger, stronger and more dominant than any guild had ever been. And we were full of it; full of life, full of strength, full of ourselves. I loved every minute of it. I went through many other names then: Shadow’s Dagger, Shadow’s Kinn, others. It was all a part of that adjusted perspective I mentioned earlier.
In my 28th year, I was named a Lieutenant of the Assassin’s Guild. Ikho was a very visible leader, full of pomp and flair. Raltric, Roulaine, and I, the once young pups who had come into our own, brought our own attributes to bear. Raltric was the oldest and most experienced, and he was hard. He had time for his brethren, but for few others. Roulaine was quicksilver. It was not unusual for him to be friendly one minute, even to an enemy, and fiercely violent the next. His active tongue got him out of, and into, many a predicament. I was subtle, and strong. Silk on steel. The Shrouded Blade.
This was the Guild in its prime in many ways. Though the Guild would become stronger and larger years in the future, this was likely when it held its largest lead over the rest of the world, with the possible exception of directly after the war with the Fighters, but I’m getting ahead of myself; with the handful of us at the very top and a solid middle that included names such as Grimler, Harami and Elremir that we were working to foster. As an example of our strength, we would occasionally send runners through Tyr announcing that any and all persons found out on the streets would be killed where they stand if they did not get indoors immediately. Shortly thereafter we would roll through, a storm of steel and leather. Early on, a few people tried to test us but it wasn’t long before we stormed through deserted streets.
This is the point in my tale where I start providing insight that many would consider classified. This is my story, of my life, and I will tell it how I please. Many of the things you will come across as you keep reading may have been closely guarded secrets at one time. Other things are just my own opinions and observations that I have, until now, never felt the need to divulge. Even so, I can hardly begin to give an entirely detailed account of everything that has happened in my life over the course of more than 60 years as an assassin. I was a very powerful man and I have been privy to a lot of affairs for a long time. But even now there are some things I will choose not to reveal.
Why, you may be asking yourself, is he even bothering to write this tale? It’s a good question, and I don’t have a clear answer. I have always loved learning, whether it be ancient lore or enemy’s weaknesses. The books on the shelves in the Merchant’s Guild shaped me as much as the weapons on the walls. Perhaps there is a part of me that wants to foster that in others. Many men, and women, have shaped history over many years and there are many ways a tale can be told. Perhaps this is my way of setting the record straight as it regards things I know first hand. I was the most powerful man in the entire world at one time, and now I am old and just a name from bygone years. Perhaps I just don’t want to be forgotten. Perhaps it is all of these things.
Ah, but my elder self has interrupted my younger self. I was speaking of growth and vivacity, was I not? The elite members of our guild were, by ourselves, extremely formidable and, together, utterly unstoppable. The rest of the realm swirled on around us as we basked in our supremacy. The Fighters got stronger under the capable leadership of L’lysandriad Quelthilias, a man whom I had known for many years and whose ascension had closely paralleled my own. He had been in Tyr a little while longer than myself and was well on his way to an illustrious career. The Light Paladins had been falling from the upper echelons as their leadership were overcome and outmaneuvered by the new guard of political players. When their longtime legend, Valor, would finally leave the realm it would be the end for good. The Mages stayed strong under the leadership of Corian and Ambros and the increasing prowess of another of my contemporaries, Azrun, but would really take a backseat politically.
As I mentioned, by this point I was a Master Assassin and the position suited me well. Truth be told, it was what I had aimed for since becoming a member of the Guild. I had never had any desire to be Guild Master. I felt I wasn’t cut out for it and to this day, after spending more than three decades as the Grand Master Assassin, I feel that assessment was fairly accurate. I often held myself somewhat aloof from the daily affairs of others, frankly, because they were a waste of my time. My entire life I have held most of the realm outside of the Merchant’s Guild in disdain. I had very little respect for the petty schemers and bumbling fools that we regularly brushed aside. I often would barely know of some of the so-called well-respected members of the realm until I needed to knock them out of my way to get what I wanted. Thus, there may be some names I never mention in this volume that were actually quite good at what they did, but never made themselves worthy of my attention. I feel no need to apologize for that and those people are probably better off for never receiving that attention. There are a few very notable exceptions to this rule and you will discover them as this tale of my life progresses.
Yes, Master Assassin was a good role for me. I answered to no one in the entire world but one man who was my Brother. I could stand for that. And I didn’t need to be the figurehead for a guild dealing with the minutia of politics and everyday business. I could give input when necessary and be the hand of decisive action when called upon while the rest of the time was mine. Ikho, on the other hand, was made to lead a guild. He fostered growth in his people and kept things lively. I may not have agreed with every decision he ever made but he is largely responsible for making the Guild the force it was. His leadership, along with a fortunate congregation of other personalities, made that happen. But don’t think me too disparaging of myself. I led well in my own way, and I was a better Assassin.
Again I must add some clarification as I read over my own words. I come across as pompous and arrogant. Arrogance is death in a life as violent as mine. I have always been confident in my abilities and I have never denied that confidence. However, I earned it. Years of study, training, and constant trial by blood and fire earned it for me. Anyone who doubted that fact forcefully enough found himself on the sharp end of my blades.
I must also urge you to bear in mind that the man writing these words now is not the same as the man about whom he writes a half century ago. I started my career cheeky and cocksure. I was independent by nature and circumstance, but always sharp of wit and tongue and more than willing to partake in a number of social activities. I was far from naïve but also far from wise. After so many years of honing myself as a weapon and constantly dancing the shadowy line of life and the life beyond, I became more aloof. Some of that is a result of focus and self-preservation. Some is a result of indifference. It is possible that I was over-forged by the fires of the life I led. I am aware of that progression. But I cannot deny that it served me well.
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I was Lieutenant of the Guild for four years. By this time I was independently wealthy. With the wealth of the Guild behind me, I was immeasurably so. I built myself a home within the walls of Tyr, quite a nice one. I owned artifacts from all over the world and places beyond. I was respected. Life was good.
This is also when I really sharpened my skills as a leader of men. We spent many hours seated around a table in the Guild Master’s lounge deciding the future of the Guild and whether or not people lived or died. Oftentimes, one or another of us would be sent out directly from that very room and return what seemed like minutes later, a new post on the public boards in the Lucky Lady: Contract complete. I was already one of the realm’s Untouchables and I wasn’t yet 30. For a short time I even fashioned myself the Baddest Man in all the Land. Whether that was true or not, no one felt the urge to dispute it. I was not just another man on the street. We were the law. If I was on the street, then it was my street.
Many people would probably love to see a list of all the unfortunate souls I have sent on to the next crossroads on the highway of life, but no such list exists. At this point, no such list will exist. So many years have passed now and, often, the people I killed were not the most important thing on my mind. I was more interested in the goal I was accomplishing by killing them. However, I must admit, that there are few things that compare to the depth and artistry of a perfect kill. The strength and violence under a veil of deception and silence. The focus and guile that result in the seamless snuffing of what was once vital and oh-so-important to the one you took it from. My pulse quickens, even now, just thinking of those intense moments. Each one was its own achievement that stood alone, the culmination of everything that you are focused into one act. There is no more blatant proof of your besting of another man than to leave him lifeless at your feet.
I am not an evil man, though. I never have been. I do not revel in the spilling of blood. I do not torture children for the fun of it. I am no ruthless Dark Paladin seeking to crush and devastate. As a matter of fact, if I had the choice between killing a sinister man and a hapless child I would most certainly leave the child unharmed. I am also, however, clearly quite far from a good man. Most damningly because I would kill that child, too, if I thought it was necessary. I never killed a person without a firm reason to do so. I am better classified as indifferent to other’s suffering and merciless when pursuing a target. I simply allowed myself more tools for advancement than most people. Murder is a means to an end.
We entered the third war of my life when I was Master Assassin. I’m not sure what Ikho was thinking at this point in time. He made a couple of odd decisions and I won’t attempt to discern his motivations. He made a half-hearted attempt to step down as Grand Master, handing the reigns to Raltric Malen’Pe. Raltric’s term was so brief, however, that almost no one knows it happened. Ikho quickly reassumed control and we went to war with the Rogue’s Guild.
This was unexpected, to say the least, seeing as the Rogues were our Sister guild, the intimate distinction being a reward for doing whatever we asked them to do. For years we had used them as informants and scapegoats, furthering our own agenda and giving them occasional leeway when hiring contracts. But, apparently, Ikho and Klitch had a falling out. Klitch was also Ikho’s nephew, which I haven’t mentioned. This war was a complete waste of our time seeing as there was nothing to be gained and our relationship with the Rogues was never quite the same.
Though I disagreed, I had no qualms spilling a little Rogue blood. The best we could do was use it to reinforce our dominance to the rest of the world, which we did. The attempt at a war was very one-sided and pretty short-lived. It was one of the most minor wars in history but it preceded one of the most significant events in my own personal history.
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One fine day, I don’t remember now what time of year but I remember the weather was pleasant, I went to check my mail at the Post Office. The postman ignored me, as usual. My name was probably on the most wanted list down the street and who wants to get between justice and the public enemy, right?
I opened my box and peered inside. In my box was a letter. I slid the letter out and began to peruse it. There wasn’t much to peruse. The letter read something like this:
Kaid,
She’s all yours.
Ikho
I stood for a moment and tried to stare through the parchment. My mind immediately started piecing together all of Ikho’s somewhat odd actions recently and everything those three words could mean. To most readers they are probably quite cryptic. I, on the other hand, knew exactly what She was.
I headed for the Guild. I walked straight through the foyer, through the courtyard, through the library, and into the Guild Master’s Office. Like the rest of the Guild Hall, this room was beyond comfortable. Ikho was nowhere to be found and nor would he be. That was something he and I shared: we were never found. We found you. Decades later, by coincidence or by some subconscious alignment, I would make my exit much the same way.
I paused just as I crossed the threshold to the room, my eyes drawn like lodestones to the large mahogany desk that dominated it. It was my desk now, as was the office, but those were as nothing compared to what lay, full of menace, on top of that desk. I made the next few strides around the desk and stood looking straight down upon Her. There was nothing left now but to take it.
As soon as my fingers wrapped around the hilt I was embraced by a feeling of violent bliss. There was a momentary struggle between myself and the blade. I battled not for supremacy, but for survival. The average will cannot withstand the onslaught of that test. And then the blade and I clicked. She kissed me with shadow and felt right in my hand. I glimpsed darkness and a space beyond comprehension where all things go, soon or late. Shadow Fang had accepted me. I was now master of the Runed Dagger of Life Stealing but I would come to learn, in some ways, She was just as much the master of me.
The story of Shadow Fang is an epic in itself. She is the most beautiful artifact I have ever set eyes on and She might as well be as old as time. She is also the most deadly object a man can possess. In my hands She would become, quite possibly, the most dangerous weapon ever wielded. Many people attribute Her existence to Ahandora, but I would not be surprised if Shadow Fang predates even the Goddess. Shadow Fang is a power beyond men and I have been privileged beyond knowing for having wielded Her for so long. She steals life.
There was one other thing Ikho passed on to me when he took his leave: his Shadow Chain. I haven’t mentioned the Shadow Chains yet but their story is one that means a lot to me personally and even to this day causes me a pang of guilt. And I am not a man who generally harbors regrets.
There were originally two Shadow Chains, acquired by Raltric in his prime. History doesn’t speak much of Raltric but he was one of the greatest Assassins ever. He is very similar to Dansar in that respect. He just didn’t make quite the impact in world affairs that some of the rest of us did. Part of that was his nature and part was simply timing.
The Shadow Chains were some of the most powerful neck ware in the world and would have been extremely coveted if anyone besides a handful of Assassins knew anything about them. When Raltric left the Guild, he left one of the chains to me and one to Ikho. Ikho, obviously, was his leader and mentor. Raltric and I had always shared a bit of a bond. I’ve always felt that he and I were more alike to each other than we were to Ikho and Roulaine and we had some good times hunting the world and as anyone who lives a life as dangerous as the ones we led can understand, we saved each other’s skins several times apiece.
I carried my Shadow Chain for no more than a couple of years. The reason for this is part of my shame, shall we say. I was traveling alone, deep beneath Mount Tauschen one day when the mountain began to quake. I can assure you it is not pleasant to be entombed beneath thousands of feet of rock during an earth tremor. As the ground beneath my feet and over my head continued to toss itself from side to side I was knocked to the floor by a particularly violent lurch and slid down the tunnel as it tilted from its foundations. I was very near to a Dwarven dig site and it must have weakened the stone enough for it to crack under duress. My hands scrabbled for purchase along the walls and floor to stop my head first slide. As I found purchase with one hand at high speed, it spun me around, flinging my Shadow Chain off over my head. I could only watch in despair as it slid down the rock and into a large crevice that had opened in the stone floor ahead of me. Several minutes passed and finally the quaking subsided. I stood and hurried over to the spot where I saw my chain disappear and discovered that the crevice the chain had fallen into had closed again, leaving the chain irretrievable.
Thus, the Shadow Chain Ikho left me became a replacement for the one I had lost. Alas, the Shadow Chains were apparently not meant for me to bear for it was within a few years that I lost the second one as well, deep in the ruins of ancient Myridius. I mounted several expeditions looking for it but none were successful. The Shadow Chains are no more.
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So there I was, 32 years old and master of the greatest Guild the world had ever seen. I decided to keep the position for a few years for a variety of reasons despite the fact, which I have explained, that I didn’t really have much desire to be Guild Master. I felt the next set of leaders in the Guild still needed a little more experience. So I made Harami Amun-Ra and Elremir Blackcloak Lieutenants beside Roulaine and Opacus.
It occurs to me that I haven’t mentioned Opacus up to this point in my tale which is, admittedly, a crime. Opacus Xophoros lived one of the most fascinating lives you will ever hear of and is not only one of the greatest Assassins there has ever been, but one of the most famous men to call Tyr home. The problem is that I cannot really tie his story in accurately with mine. Simply put, sometimes he was there and sometimes he was not. But when he was there, he was there in force.
The other reasons I decided to remain Guild Master were that I had several plans for Guild expansion that I wanted to complete and, most importantly, I was best equipped to achieve stability after the transfer of power from a long-term, legendary Grand Master; primarily because I didn’t covet the position myself. I expanded our Guild in Tyr and began work on an entirely new guild complex. It would probably come as quite a surprise to most people that for over a decade the Merchants had three Guild halls. Now we are left with two and the ruins of our greatest.
I will try to provide a portrait of what the world was like when I became Guild Master, as well as my memory can serve. We were the most powerful guild, as we had been for about 15 years. The old powers, namely the Light Paladins and the Mages, had fallen by the wayside, so to speak. Lutyre’s knights were still led by Valor and, I believe, Corian still led the Mages though it is possible that Azrun may have taken over by this time or that Ambros was doing a short stint as Archmage.
The rising power in the world, other than ourselves, and the second most powerful guild of them all was L’lysandriad’s, the Fighters. The Priests were also fairly active at that time and were led once again by Seldjei. The Druids were led by Wrinde, the original Mother Nature as well as the long-time wife of Opacus, and the Rogues by Klitch. I do not recall who led the Dark or Grey Paladins when I took over but it didn’t much matter. Taldragen was the chief ranger, if memory can be trusted.
Forgive me my lack of certainty but this is about half a century before I am writing these words. Even the sharpest minds lose their edge over time.
Nearly immediately upon my ascension I was approached by various leaders of the other guilds. Klitch, though our relationship had become close to nothing since our early days, tried to use our past Brotherhood to put the Rogues back in Merchant good graces. I took a pretty hard line policy and conceded nothing. Most of my policies were pretty hard line. We were by far in the better negotiating position and we owed them nothing. It benefited us to have the Rogues in need of better relations.
L’lysandriad, too, came to speak with me almost immediately. We both knew that we were now each other’s only real rivals. The Merchants were the only thing between the Fighters and the top while the Fighters were the only guild that could threaten that position any time in the near future, but they couldn’t yet. L’lys was probably hoping against hope that he would find a weak leader in me, despite knowing my actions as a Lieutenant. He wanted complete neutrality as our guilds regarded each other. This was a smart intention on his part and it would have suited me, as well.
I always believed that the Merchant’s ideal position was to be neutral in all things. We would be everyone’s ally, for a price, and nobody’s enemy, in the process becoming strong enough and wealthy enough to carve our own way and let the squabbles of others weaken them without touching us. Our unofficial, in-Guild, policy would be cloak-and-dagger. Any time we felt the balance could threaten us, we would adjust it in whatever way necessary without drawing attention to ourselves. Overall, we failed in achieving this ideal. We too often made ourselves a target and, though we were willing and able to defend ourselves, we became directly embroiled in too many large-scale conflicts during my life.
The problem with L’lysandriad’s proposal was that he wanted Fighters to be immune to assassination. This is not neutrality and I, of course, flatly refused. Never try to deprive an assassin of his livelihood. The talks broke down at that point and no official resolution was ever reached. These were the first seeds of contention that would eventually grow into full-scale war. That is still about a dozen years ahead of us, however.
So things continued much as they had. The world came to realize that the Assassins were still stable without Ikho to lead and we continued to operate as usual. Our main external policies when dealing with the world at large were pretty simple: No one touches an Assassin but an Assassin, and massive retaliation. Our internal policies were more involved but that was our business. If any of our own made a mistake, which they sometimes did, we would handle it. Period. I didn’t want to hear the opinion of anyone who isn’t an Assassin.
I made pretty good use of my time during the eight years I was Grand Master. I completed most of the building projects I set out to complete. I believe the new Guild Hall may not have been fully complete until Elremir’s term but it was well under way during mine. I did also put together plans for a Temple of Ahandora that never came to fruition, unfortunately, but that was minor since it was more of a personal hobby than Guild business.
I handled my leadership responsibilities rather naturally. This is a little trickier than it might at first appear. I was handed a guild that was already strong and stable, you say, so what could make it tricky? You must remember that the Grand Master’s power is absolute. My guild’s power within the realm was nearly absolute. It was within my power to kill anyone in the world without leaving my desk chair, or to make any other decision I pleased. A leader must decide when to get involved and when to sit back. If you make decisions that are unsound simply because you can, the consequences can be pretty dire.
I want to also point out something to those of you who may not truly understand the properties of power. Power is the manifestation of one’s control over the surrounding environment. Power is action. Words are nothing but a way to describe and define actions. Feelings and emotions are nothing but a response to action or a motivator for action. Even in the days of the Assassin’s greatest power voices would be raised in defiance of the Guild’s full influence. There were meek refusals of what we could accomplish, what we could choose to do. Never was there an action that provided any proof to support those voices. We were exactly what we claimed to be. The greatest force in the world. I will supply one small example of many to support this.
I remember I was at the Guild, taking care of this or that when Roulaine came walking in, rather briskly.
“Kaid, Moridin was found breaking into your house.†This was not major news but annoying nonetheless. Roulaine was smirking a little because he knew as well as I how the situation was going to be handled. Why people insisted on doing things like this, we couldn’t understand. Moridin was a rather active Rogue at the time. He constantly bumbled his way into places he had no right being and the Rogue guild leadership had some difficulty keeping him in line, for some reason.
“Apparently, he broke into your house and somehow trapped himself inside. Azrun was passing by and Moridin offered to pay him to summon him out.†Roulaine was grinning now, enjoying the turn of events. Azrun and I had an understanding. Moridin not only trapped himself, but condemned himself.
“Bring him to the Glowing Portal. I’ll be there shortly,†I replied, and Roulaine headed straight out. I did a lot of business in the Glowing Portal. Everyone knew where it was but it was rarely frequented. I also sort of viewed anything in Tyr from the Portal north and west of Baron’s Boulevard, excluding Cathedral Way, as Assassin territory. All of the other guilds except the Rangers were south or east or near the cathedral. During wartime, that area was a death zone.
I headed down to the Portal, taking my time. Moridin would be there when I got there. I entered and headed downstairs to the gambling rooms, passing tables for dice and cards, where Roulaine had Moridin held in a corner. Azrun had created an ice wall to remove any escape options. I had Azrun put up another wall of ice to completely enclose Moridin with Roulaine and me, for effect. We all knew where this was heading but I wanted to do what I could to deter something like this from happening again. My style was usually quick and quiet but I could put on a show if I chose. Roulaine didn’t need to be there, of course, because Moridin was no threat, but it was more intimidating to be stared down by both of us.
I asked him why he did it and he tried to concoct some story and then explain how he had no idea it was my house, so on and so forth. I let him go on for a bit, interrupted him, told him it had better never happen again, and left him in a heap on the floor. I always found it had a good effect to let a situation develop a little, almost innocuously, and then end it without warning. People would almost get their hopes up that I might display some mercy. Then I would rip it away from them in the blink of an eye as a reminder that it is always within my power to end it whenever I choose.
In the previous few paragraphs I described striking down a prominent member of another guild in broad daylight with witnesses. It wasn’t even in response to a wrong against our Guild. I punished him for trespassing on my personal property. I didn’t consult with that guild in any way. I never heard a word from the guild about the event and there was absolutely zero public outcry. It was completely within my power to act in the way I did without any fear of retribution. There are very few people throughout history who could say the same, and most of them were Assassins. Those were the types of actions that defined our power.
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There were a couple of other events worth noting during my first Grand Mastery. The first was a result of L’lysandriad’s desire to be the premier warrior in the realm. He brought to me a proposition that I found worth the Guild’s while.
L’lys had decided to go to war with the Light Paladins in order to bring down Valor once and for all and establish himself as the undisputed greatest warrior on life. He needed to be absolutely certain of a victory and the easier the victory the better. So he came to me. Many people would probably have been surprised that proud L’lysandriad would pay for mercenary support in his battles but he knew what he was doing. We kept the rest of Lutyre’s finest occupied while he made arrangements for Valor. All it took was a hefty sum up front and a sizeable portion of the victory spoils and we rolled through them like clouds over the sun. Valor’s day was done.
Our guilds together made short work of the Light Paladins with minimal risk and we both got richer: us in gold and L’lys in status. Men and women skilled in finding mutually beneficial arrangements and, just as importantly, who have the strength and cunning to protect the rewards, will come to have the world at their feet. The ending of the war did drag out for a short time because of the lack of leadership with Valor, Mazrix, and Jurgon disposed of but eventually a young man by the name of Dracamius gained control and brought things to a satisfactory conclusion, and it only took moderate abuse to his person, in my opinion.
Coinciding with the end of the war with the Paladins was the formation of the Patriots of Independence. The Patriots were the result of a personal dispute between myself and Ruadhan, a man fashioning himself king. He was no king of mine. Ruadhan had managed to acquire the Baronetcy of Tyr as a vassal province and for some unfathomable reason believed he would be able to collect taxes from me. He was in error.
I ignored multiple requests for payment and continually avoided arrest. The idea then struck me to rally support to my banner because I knew many other adventurers were chafing under the required tax and, thus, the Patriots of Independence were born. I thought the name was fittingly grandiose for a war against a king.
I forbade any Assassin to pay taxes and made them the core of the Patriots. Soon, most of the realm flocked to the banner. It appeared that Ruadhan would have no choice but to capitulate, but then he formed a corps of elite Baronial Guards and set them loose on the dissenters. I must give some credit to him for this move and commend whoever was responsible for their training. The Elite Guards were extremely formidable. They started making very short work of the Patriots as only a few of us could battle them successfully. We were able to put together a resistance in the form of the realm’s foremost adventurers but at that point most people had forsaken their allegiance. Soon the Patriots of Independence were no more, I was the last, and the Elite Baronial Guards were disbanded, having also taken considerable losses.
I consider this episode to be a resounding victory because I never paid a single piece of gold in taxes and was never asked to again. As a matter of fact, no guild member in Tyr was ever taxed again. I was also never arrested or brought down by an Elite Guard throughout the entire ordeal while many of them fell beneath my blades. Most importantly, the guilds remained the ultimate power in the realm. As the Assassins were the most powerful guild, we retained supremacy. The Assassins answer to no one and we are required to pay no one.
I spent the last couple years of that first term as Grand Master tying up loose ends, searching the realm for fitting challenges of my battle prowess, and contemplating my successor. I was not content to sit on my laurels and let complacency gnaw away everything I had worked for. I traveled the entire world battling any opponent with a dangerous reputation, contending with beasts on various planes of existence, and increasing my own reputation and skill. I must admit that I had become quite a weapon. Shadow Fang gorged on life though I am convinced that She can never be sated.
As it concerned my successor I was of two minds. It was clear that my choice was between Harami and Elremir, both of whom had matured superbly and were each paragons of strength and influence in their own right. I had watched them both since their earliest days, often without their knowledge, and knew they brought different attributes to the table. I watched Elremir steal his first kill in wartime from a fellow Assassin. I had watched Harami hanging on Ikho’s every word, soaking in any wisdom he could. They both had obvious strengths and potential weaknesses.
Harami was the slightly older of the two and Ikho had always thought very highly of him. Personally, I had always thought slightly better of Elremir. I felt his style was better suited to leadership but was concerned that perhaps I believed this because his style was more similar to my own. Ikho had been a tremendous leader and Harami’s tendencies lay more in Ikho’s direction than mine. I figured even if I felt Elremir was the better choice I couldn’t go far wrong with Harami and he was the senior. In the end, I decided to hand the reigns of the Guild to Harami. It was the single biggest mistake I ever made.
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I had planned my stepping down to coincide with a planned short-term absence. When I returned to Tyr I found the Guild in turmoil. Harami had already been replaced by Elremir as Grand Master and tensions were high. Elremir offered me the position back but I refused. I had no issue with Elremir in command as I should have made him my choice in the first place. It turns out that leadership qualities I perceived as flaws in Ikho were exaggerated in Harami and his strengths did not manifest themselves well when he was the ultimate leader of the Guild.
I had hoped that Harami’s assertiveness and sociability would result in a culture of growth and energy for the Guild like they had under Ikho. Instead they were simply erratic and led to poor decision-making. It was a fine line to tread and I have already mentioned how deceptively complicated leading a strong, stable guild can be. A strong guild is comprised of strong people and strong people will not tolerate a poor leader.
The blame for his performance, I must admit, lies partially with me as well. Clearly I had not prepared him as well as I thought and I had left him to fend completely for himself in his earliest days as Guild Master. Unfortunately, the bitterness lasted a long time and Harami was never quite the Brother he had been. This loss was felt keenly but I had no sympathy for him.
I made it a point not to make the same mistakes with Elremir and worked very closely with him throughout his term. We were able to restore order within the Guild in a short time and Elremir proved to be quite a capable leader. And it was good that he did because the Fighters began to test the edges of our authority.
The Fighters had made major strides with the defections of Ambros and Cavrodoc from the Mage’s Guild. L’lysandriad now had a pair of battle mages to augment his warriors. This was big news as it finally put another guild in the same stratosphere as the Assassins. We had been without close peer for a quarter century but now things were in a position to come to a head. If L’lysandriad decided to roll the dice and succeeded, his Fighters could replace us as the realm’s most dominant guild with a victory. But that confrontation would be the largest war in history and even L’lys wasn’t ready to make that gamble yet.
So there we sat for a time. Elremir was Grand Master with Opacus, Rhyll, Roulaine, and myself as Lieutenants. Rhyll was the youngest of the famous Xophoros clan, Opacus’ son, and a recent riser to the upper echelon of the Guild. The realm was entirely quiet for the first time in years but it was a tense silence. The other guilds were wary of our new rivalry with the Fighters exploding into all out conflict. It turned out not to be a long wait.
The first seeds of contention had been planted years before and they had continued to grow. L’lysandriad now waited for the slightest provocation to make his move. He was waiting for anything, no matter how small, to try to spin so he didn’t look like the aggressor. Finally, it came.
One of our young members was exploring Tyr and ended up stumbling into the Fighter’s Guild guards. The guards claimed an attack by the Assassin’s Guild and the Fighters would not relent in their accusations despite our denials of malicious intent. Whether the event was engineered by L’lysandriad or just a happenstance that suited his needs I do not know, but he used it to its fullest potential. They demanded reparations and we, of course, refused. Now things had really come to a head with public threats flying back and forth but still fell short of open violence. We all knew, however, that it was only a matter of time.
We were still in the position of strength and we were not going to bow to anyone’s demands. A Fighter problem was a Fighter problem and had nothing to do with us. L’lysandriad had already leveled his accusations, however, and he was the proudest man I ever knew and would not allow himself to retract. He was committed now but still reluctant to precipitate physical violence. In the meantime both sides played games with words and deeds. We did everything to inconvenience each other short of murder and things escalated constantly. Very quickly, the war started in earnest.
After yet another slight of some kind I had had enough of tiptoeing around and decided it was time for more violent action. I would, in fact, employ one of those political games we used so frequently. Then we would see how the Fighters reacted. I took a young Brother out for training in Tyr. I had decided it was time for his first kill. The target? A young Fighter. He performed quite well and there were no witnesses. Though there was no physical or circumstantial proof, the political climate of the day left us as the only possible party responsible. No other guild would have dared striking a Fighter or Assassin at this point in time. L’lysandriad, of course, became aware of the death and deduced these very things. He also deduced that I was most likely responsible. That was when he made the mistake that was ultimately fatal for his guild.
I was in Myshaud, having just finished some dangerous business and I was quite injured and exhausted. I was sleeping off some of the worst before making the trek back to Tyr when I was suddenly jerked awake by a strong pull behind my navel. I was being summoned. L’lysandriad was already talking when I arrived, practically a man raving, about ghosts and murders. I saw him and Ambros standing above me for an instant and the walls of a barn I was familiar with on the outskirts of Tyr before Shrin filled my vision.
I don’t know what story L’lysandriad heard about how his man had gone down but it must have been entertaining. I was not in the least entertained now. I immediately returned to the Guild Hall and informed the Guild that we were at war. Fighters were to be killed on sight and I immediately went to follow my own orders.
Though his gambit ended in failure, L’lysandriad does deserve to be commended simply for having the nerve to intentionally expose himself to the greatest fury any man had ever faced. It would burn even him to cinders but I’m not sure anyone else would have made the decision he made. He was willing to risk it all for the greatest reward in the only war during my lifetime where the Assassins weren’t the forgone victor before the battles even started.
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Never had there been a war like this one. The Rose and the Mailed Fist would put it all on the line at last. Our two guilds were the two most powerful of all time and we were fighting each other. Not only did we fight with bodies and blades but with words in the court of public opinion. We tried to trick, cheat, and demoralize. We fought in the streets, in the wild, and on the public boards.
Our formal declaration of war led to an early frenzy of conflict and our guild leadership got together to put together a battle plan. Elremir was a top priority because he carried Shadow Fang and that would be one of the Fighter’s top targets. L’lysandriad and Shrin were the same to us. This priority limited their freedom in battle. I volunteered to take Ambros out of the fight because he was easily the biggest threat and I was best equipped to deal with that threat. He wasn’t the greatest battle mage to ever live because he was bad at what he did, and he and I had some old business to settle. Opacus and Roulaine would organize our younger Brethren with the help of Twaegryn and engage the lesser levels of Fighters. They were extraordinarily successful.
Our major advantage going into the war was our battle experience. All of us were veterans of several wars and knew how to win. We were able to counter L’lysandriad, Ambros, and Cavrodoc with Elremir, myself, and Harami. The Fighters had no response for Opacus and Roulaine. The tides began turning our way in the early going as we decimated the lower ranks of the Fighter’s Guild. The war may have ended much earlier than it did if the Fighters hadn’t wrested Shadow Fang away from Elremir. That took some of our strength and gave them a hostage to bargain with.
I was successful in my mission to remove Ambros from the center of the fighting. However, the attention necessary removed me from it as well. We fought our own private war while the larger one raged around us. These were the most violently intense moments of my life, and that is quite a statement. I had never faced an opponent as skilled as Ambros. Over the course of my life, I proved myself to be better than every foe I faced, from the minor to the legendary. Except him. He still had that one victory over me from my younger days and I was determined to even the score, which I did.
He tried to trap me in Hell but I sprung it and brought him down for it. Hell was no longer dangerous for me like it was in my youth. Old tricks wouldn’t work. He took me on Vice Island but I turned his trap back on him in Offingia. I think that was the defeat that got to him the most. He thought he had me dead to rights but he underestimated my speed and ability to maneuver in close quarters. He had arranged for all escape to be blocked and it was his own undoing because he couldn’t escape me. On another occasion I caught him completely unaware in the Dark Forest south of Tyr and he didn’t stand a chance.
We hunted each other constantly but it was actually rare that we fully engaged. We only fought each other seven times to conclusion. We were both canny fighters and masters of escape, so if the advantage wasn’t ours we would avoid the fight. That is why it was so critical to execute the traps. If we weren’t cunning, we were dead. In the end, I outpaced Ambros by one victory during the war and when Ambros was no more it was the beginning of the end for the Fighter’s Guild.
The most famous battle of the war actually took place on the River Ereworn. I was moving through Tyr when I felt the familiar tug behind my navel. I was being summoned. Simultaneously I drew my weapons and appeared, to my shock, above the river. I prided myself on being prepared for anything. Fortunately, I had been traveling and I often wore enchanted walking boots when I traveled as they allowed me to cross water. Those boots saved my life because not only was I on the river, I was staring directly into the slavering maw of the werewolf that normally stalked old Tarach’knor. Ambros and L’lysandriad hoped to dispatch me without getting themselves bloodied. But I am no easy prey.
I dodged the werewolf’s lunge and, spotting Ambros and L’lysandriad waiting downriver in case I escaped my fate, headed straight for them. They were hoping to encounter me heavily injured, if at all, but I had moved too quickly. They hadn’t counted on the boots. Escape was not in my mind. I did the unexpected and attacked superior odds, making surprise my advantage. Most people would have fled for dear life in that situation. Really, most people would have died, but I am not most people. The only thoughts in my mind now were revenge and that I had L’lysandriad in my sights. He almost never left the Fighter’s Guild in Tyr at that point in the war in order to protect himself and Shrin.
I laid L’lysandriad low and lunged for Shrin. If I had grabbed it, the war might have been over within days, but in this case Ambros was faster than I. He grabbed Shrin out from under my hand and took off with it. He fled through the streets of Tyr with me in hot pursuit and L’lysandriad’s blood eddying on the currents of the Ereworn. But I didn’t catch up. My frustration was immense because I had tasted victory for the Assassins and let it slip away.
Nevertheless, this battle was still one of the milestones of the war. In the early stages we had looked to be taking the advantage until L’lysandriad took Shadow Fang from Elremir. That turned the tides back and everyone got ready for a prolonged conflict. Slowly, the Assassins began to take control again, forcing L’lysandriad to remove himself from most of the conflict to protect himself and the Fighter’s Guild artifact and avoid a crippling blow. When news that an ambush of me set by the two most powerful Fighters with the help of the werewolf resulted with their Guild Master down and his first Lieutenant fleeing for his life, it was demoralizing. And we took full advantage.
Early in the war, I had rediscovered the art of guild-breaking. For years it had been thought that breaking into other guilds was impossible. It had once been quite common. As a matter of fact, one of the realm’s greats had made much of his name that way. Kelshan had been a master guild-breaker as a Rogue and a Druid. It had become so common, however, that all of the guilds had significantly reinforced their security and none of the old tricks worked any more.
It was in Diabolus that I tested my theories on the guild halls there and succeeded. It was not an easy task but someone of my ability and skill could accomplish it if he was careful and fast. From that moment on I spent a lot of time in other guild halls and taught my capable Brothers how to do it as well. We kept it secret and used it to monitor the Fighter’s guild boards throughout the war. Eventually we started posting on those boards ourselves with all kinds of propaganda. We wanted to demoralize their members by proving that we couldn’t be stopped. We could go anywhere we wanted and there was no safe place for Fighters. Every Assassin victory was recorded in detail in the Fighter’s own guild.
Late in the war Elremir and I got together and made plans to break into the Fighter’s main guild hall in Tyr. This was a far more dangerous proposition than breaking into the Diabolus guild because security was much heavier and an alarm would be raised across the city. Timing would be essential because we wanted to avoid L’lysandriad and Ambros. Elremir was going to call for the Fighters' surrender from inside their own seat of power. It was critical that he had time to complete the whole post and he would be extremely vulnerable while writing it.
Eventually, the time came. Elremir, Roulaine, and I made our move. The entire attack was timed and choreographed. If any one of us failed our assignments the entire assault would fail. Everything went exactly as planned until Roulaine went down but though grievously injured, he still completed his tasks before he hit the floor and Elremir and I were safely in. We quickly ransacked every room on the off chance that L’lysandriad didn’t have Shadow Fang locked in his private quarters but to no avail. That was to be expected. Elremir rushed to the boards as the alarm went out across the city. It was left to me alone to protect him against all comers.
I surveyed the building and was extremely amused when I discovered that the Fighters had built their hall perfectly. Perfect for defense. Fighters were now converging on us and I was ready, holding the access point to the upper floor where only one man could come at me at a time. None of the Fighters who came were a threat to me and I picked them off one by one. The only possible danger was Cavrodoc but I handled him as well. They were unable to mount a successful assault and they eventually dissolved before me. Elremir and I were masters of the Fighter’s Guild of Tyr. Finally Elremir finished and we made good our escape.
Even when we had earned the clear advantage, the end of the war was slow in coming. L’lysandriad was too proud to admit defeat but it had gotten to the point where the Fighters were unable to fight back. Ambros began to make overtures on behalf of his leader to try and work towards a conclusion. His task was daunting because we were not going to concede anything. Now that we had the Fighter’s Guild under our boot we were going to take them for everything they had and leave it as nothing but a shell of its former self.
One amusing occurrence now comes down to me through the years. Ambros and I had agreed to meet amicably in Tyr because he wanted to sue for peace. They wanted peace without surrender but we would take nothing less than full capitulation. They had wanted to seize our power and failed. Now they were at our mercy and mercy was not our strong suit. As Ambros and I stood in Cheuntelia’s Temple a young Fighter came upon us and began denouncing me as a dishonorable coward. The Fighter youth, apparently, thought his guild fought for honor. At least his leadership knew better. We fought for power. He even went so far as to challenge me to a duel. I am chuckling about it even now. Ambros tried to stop his wayward mate but the battle rage must have been upon him and he lunged at me. It took me a matter of seconds, even barehanded, to subdue and defeat the young man. I remember Ambros just shook his head and sighed. I believe he was losing interest in the cause because we just left the exuberant Fighter on the floor of the temple and went to have some serious talks on the roof of the haunted house outside of the city where we wouldn’t be disturbed. Ambros wasn’t a Fighter much longer after that.
After Ambros was gone, L’lysandriad too left his guild to our machinations. He eventually returned with stories of where he had been and why he had gone but I believe he simply couldn’t stand to see us in control of what was left of what he had built. With all of its leadership gone, we became the new leaders of the Fighter’s Guild of Tyr. There were some few young Fighters still there and we used them all mercilessly. I believe we had as many as four different Fighters paying us reparations simultaneously, each one believing we would make him Guild Master once we had enough. Once we had milked the guild dry and more, we finally placed one of them at the head and put the war behind us.
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We were once again the undisputable masters of the realm. Tyr was ours and the wreckage of the nearest thing we had had to a rival in thi |
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Anonymous
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Thu Apr 03, 2008 4:47 pm |
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But, as a great man once said, “It ain’t all mai-tais and spin dagger out there.†This was true even in the good times.
There was one small issue with a young member of the Guild near the end of Elremir’s term as Guild Master that fell under my responsibility and had to be dealt with rather forcefully. The young man’s name was Trusiel and he had been, by most accounts, a model member of the Guild. However, some circumstances arose and he didn’t satisfactorily meet his obligations. Some other Brothers were inconvenienced by his failure and he didn’t take the necessary steps to atone. Therefore, I set him a task myself. His task was to take down a Dark Paladin by the name of Draden, or die trying. The Dark Paladins were a weak guild and this task had no political ramifications but Draden was a man that it didn’t hurt to keep in line. Strictly speaking, this task was far beyond Trusiel but when a target is set, difficulty is irrelevant. An Assassin finds a way.
Trusiel did not perform to expectations and that was the final straw. I felled him and cast him out of the Guild. Membership in the Assassin’s Guild is a privilege reserved for the best. However, though not adequate for our Guild, Trusiel was not traitorous and he was still young and a minor member of the realm, so we didn’t crush him forever. He eventually wheedled his way into the Druid’s Guild and, apparently, served them well.
Shortly thereafter Elremir stepped down and Roulaine took over the reigns of the Guild. Roulaine had been a leader in the Guild for decades and we looked forward to continued prosperity. Roulaine felt it was time to bring back some of the old school muscle after the years of relative peace and quiet since the war. It may not have been entirely necessary but we certainly didn’t want to become complacent.
Complacency and arrogance are the two biggest threats to the best. Complacency leaves the door open for your adversaries and arrogance unites your adversaries against you. Both are enemies of focus and focus is required to execute at the highest level. Massive retaliation has always been one of our main tenets of external policy. We simply started listening a little more closely once again to dissenters, and retaliated accordingly.
One such case provides a perfect example of complacency and even arrogance, on my part. Troatlan Garros, a very powerful individual who was at this time a Rogue, had been making some inappropriate statements and Roulaine wanted him dealt with, so he came to me. In his words, he wanted to “send the Wolf after Garros.†The Wolf is another name I had picked up over the years. I had other things on my plate but agreed to slide a reprimand of Troatlan into my schedule. This perspective of the situation on my part is what led to my mistake. I was too haphazard in my planning because I acted arrogantly.
I will give a little background here on Troatlan because it is a good lesson. Many years earlier, he had actually been an Assassin but left to pursue other goals. This was long before we started taking a harder view on people leaving the Guild. He then bounced from guild to guild before landing in the Rogues, possibly the only one where he would still be welcome. He generally steered clear of politics and, especially, us because despite the fact that he was a very formidable individual with the skills of some four guilds at his disposal he had no real power. Power lies with guilds and, therefore, with their leaders. This explains why my mistake actually spelled the end of Troatlan.
Almost every single one of the most powerful and influential people ever was a member of only one guild. All of the Assassin’s great leaders, which outnumber the others combined. L’lysandriad. Valor. Tristea. Seldjei. Wrinde. Corian. Keldar. You may be surprised by some of the names I list. Seldjei and Wrinde could not leave fields of dead in their wake, but they had influence. They earned the respect of their followers and had that power added to their decisions. They could not be manipulated like poor leaders. The dual-classers had to beg one of us for a spot, and suffer our displeasure if they misstepped. Valor, Corian, and Tristea were powerful mostly before the time of the Assassin’s preeminence, Keldar not until late in my life when we had finished off every other powerbroker. Many of the powerful multi-guild adventurers worked for me at one time or another. I never worked for any of them. It may be difficult to discern between the strata of the most powerful when looking from below but the differences are there. And perspective is everything. By the end of my days as a Merchant, I didn’t see anyone with power.
Back to the one time I made a major mistake while hunting another man. In my mind, I would be in and out rather quickly and move on to other things and, thus, I didn’t focus as I should have. I tracked him down in Dragonspyre without the usual preparation and planning that I devote to a kill. So I found him and struck but with the poor light and footing in combination with Troatlan’s own skill and experience I didn’t connect as I had wished. I hesitated a fraction too long because I hadn’t properly planned my contingencies or escape and he struck back. He became only the third adventurer to ever defeat me, joining Ambros and L’lysandriad, and, thus, had to be crushed. It became my mission to eliminate Troatlan from the realm and I did just that, defeating him a handful of times personally and leaving him no peace from the rest of the Guild either.
Most people probably considered Troatlan to be a powerful member of the realm but truly he was a flea to my mastiff, a breath to my hurricane. I, first off, was far more dangerous as a result of my battle experience. I had a lifetime of encounters against men and women of every cut. I was conditioned not just to fight, but to win. Add to that the strength of every individual in my guild and my particularly poor performance becomes the catalyst for his destruction.
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It was at this point in time that we started having some issues with the Grey Paladins. They were led at the time by a woman named Khalyra who I feel safe in calling the worst Guild Master I have ever interacted with, and I have known dozens. She single-handedly led her already weak guild to ruin through a series of unintelligent remarks and poor decisions.
It began with some mild remonstrance that quickly became more forceful. In keeping with the honesty with which I have written this entire account of my life I must admit that the Guild, and especially Roulaine, did not handle this entire situation the way we should have. But the situation did become extremely out of the ordinary as you will see as this history of the time progresses. I myself went and took the Sword of Balance from Khalyra as a punishment but I didn’t see anything large-scale, and certainly not a war, on the horizon. But that is exactly what we got.
I returned from traveling for a short time to find that Shadow Fang had been taken from Roulaine and evidence pointing toward Tygona’s Chosen as the culprits. This, obviously, was grounds for their annihilation. The mistake was that instead of choosing a handful of members to go deal with the Paladins, Roulaine let his emotions get the better of him and put the entire machinery of war into motion. This was like using a battle axe to swat a fly.
Once committed, we took it to the Paladins swiftly and decisively. They stood no chance of putting up any kind of resistance. Khalyra removed herself from public life and their guild was emptied of members. Then the greatest catastrophe in the history of the Assassin’s Guild took place.
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Harami and I were in the Laughing Bull Tavern when a young boy came running in, breathless, to tell us that the Guild was under attack. We left at a dead sprint to the northern end of the city and what we found was beyond belief. A score of soldiers along with one of the Grey Paladin’s guild trainers and a mysterious elf were in the process of fighting their way through our guild guards. Flames were already licking up the sides of the stone building.
I barely had time to look at Harami and see the violent combination of grief and rage in his eyes that I am sure exactly mirrored my own before we both flung ourselves into the fray. We were shortly joined by Draden, who was a recent addition to the Guild, and a young assassin by the name of Sylvah. I remember her still to this day because she stood no chance of surviving this fight but threw herself into it with no less abandon than the rest of us. We were the only ones in Tyr and it fell to us alone to defend what was ours.
Harami and I were like men possessed. I have no other words to describe what we went through. The odds were against us and we quickly realized that we were not fighting a normal enemy. I determined that the mysterious elf was the leader of this party of destruction but when I attacked him my blades were turned aside. Not by his blades or armor, but by some magical shield the likes of which I had never seen and never would again. He simply stood there as, no matter how I focused my aim, my blades simply slid past him. The fires spread faster and burned hotter than any normal fire could, licking up wood, fabric, and stone alike before we had any opportunity to quench them.
Our guards fell, as did our trainers and store keeper, while Harami and I fought our way inside the guild to stand our ground. Draden was battling hand-to-hand outside. I dropped assailants at a pace unheard of and Harami matched me. We rose up out of our murderous haze to find no one left alive in the Guild but us and the Grey Paladin trainer, ringed by flames and corpses. Harami and I took the fight to him immediately. He was skilled but could not stand in the face of our fury and fled the grounds with the two of us in hot pursuit.
He fled past Draden, who was battling the last of the attackers, and out into the streets of Tyr. Harami and I caught him several times between the Guild and the fountain in the center of Tyr but we repeatedly found him miraculously healed. This only increased our fury and frustration. Three times we had him within inches of his death when he was healed by a hand we could not see. Finally, he escaped us for good.
Harami and I stood at the fountain on Baron’s Boulevard, breathing hard and covered in blood and soot. Bystanders surrounded us, having witnessed our battle, but no one spoke. We could not quite grasp what had happened. One of the weakest guilds in the world had sent a force to destroy the strongest. Neither Harami nor I had expected to survive that fight, yet we did. It may very well have been the greatest fighting I have ever done. Sylvah had perished almost immediately. The mysterious elf had disappeared and was never found again.
My mind was whirling as we returned to the scene of the devastation. The flames had gone out but the damage was done. The Guild was destroyed. However, the flames shouldn’t have been out yet. When we left they had been burning hot and fast, devouring everything and this illogical abatement just solidified my suspicions. I strolled through the halls that I had called home for over thirty years. Almost nothing was left intact. Our sanctuary was destroyed, our knowledge lost, my memories profaned. Bodies filled the corridors, most of their faces twisted in terror and pain. I can only imagine how Harami and I had appeared to them. Most of the battle was a vague blur to me. Their spirits haunt the location to this day. As I examined, I knew what I was looking at. This was the work of a divine hand. Tygona had taken a direct hand in the world’s affairs to protect his chosen. I decided then and there that even a god could not protect them from me. I had been scarred in a way I didn’t realize I could be.
I can only imagine what took place in the heavens to keep the gods from starting a war that would destroy creation. Ahandora did not strike back but we would be Her mortal hand. We outlawed the worship of Tygona. We would not only target Gray Paladins but any mortal who followed their path as well as anyone who associated with them. If Tygona himself had come down to confront me I would have attacked without hesitation. Even I could not defeat a god, but if I was finally brought down it would be with the blood of a god on my blades.
It was genocide. The realm cried out against us but no one dared try to stop us. Those days were dark. Retribution was a need we could not satisfy. The body count rose higher and higher but still we did not slow. Finally, there came a day for me like no other. I was called by the highest power.
Roulaine and I were in Diabolus, putting together plans for our new Guild Hall. We had to turn the Diabolus Guild into our headquarters. It had always been simply an outpost and was not yet fit to house an entire guild. As we were discussing, we were summoned but this was no normal summoning. This was no tug behind the navel engineered by a mortal and a shift from one place to the next. One second we were standing in one place, the next we were standing in a place beyond places. We went where no mortal has ever gone.
I will not recount what happened there. Suffice it to say that I returned and Roulaine did not.
We were without a Guild Master and after a short discussion with the other leaders of the Guild it was decided that I would reassume my old role. I was 54 years old and Grand Master again after 14 years. I immediately committed myself to the task of cleaning up the mess that the Guild was in. We had to get the improvements to our Diabolus Guild Hall underway as soon as possible because, as things were, it was practically non-functional. As a matter of fact, our Guild was robbed shortly after we moved in because our security was non-existent. Harami lost some valuable personal items as well as the Guild.
The entire security apparatus had to be reengineered and the complex expanded. I didn’t add rooms, I added wings, and it still did not compete with the size of the old Hall in Tyr. I also decided it was time to improve some organizational issues that we had put off for too long. I brought Elremir and Opacus in with me to rewrite the Shadow Code, the ultimate rule of law for the Guild and all its members. Many of the core tenets would remain the same and we would codify some rules that had been unofficial for years.
Opacus put the information into a new, improved format and I added a Promise that hadn’t existed before. It summed up the demands of the Guild and helped set our culture going forward. Then I put it in the Guild Hall for all to see. I think we did a tremendous job.
One of the biggest new rules was a policy we had had in place for many years: under certain circumstances someone can dual into the Guild, but no one can ever dual out. We were now zero tolerance and the first person to be hurt by that rule was Draden. He had been allowed entrance a short time before we started heading in the direction of our last war on the condition that he would be an Assassin for life. He left quietly in the aftermath. In that case, I enforced the new zero tolerance rule myself, despite the fact that he had served us well in his time.
I also created the Shadow Council. Shadow is the highest rank an Assassin can achieve in his lifetime, they are practically living legends. Several people have become lieutenants in our history without being Shadows. I wanted their knowledge and experience to always be a part of guild governance going forward. This was not a new idea but one we had failed to implement. I also knew that I would not be around forever and I wanted the practices that had carried us through our dominance to serve the Guild in the future when all of us were gone.
The realm began to calm. The war against the Paladins was officially ended and all periphery attacks had finally ceased. Throughout the Paladin ordeal, and for a short time after, there had been several Stalkers hired against me. I estimate about half a dozen. This was not surprising considering there really did not exist anymore anyone who could best me. They hoped the Stalkers could and paid exorbitant sums to see me dead. Never was a Stalker able to defeat me. I had always been vocal against the use of Stalkers, primarily because they were competition for one of our primary services, and I was proud to prove that, against me, they were worthless.
There were some important things that were lost in the destruction of the Tyr Guild. Most of the information held in the Room of All Knowing, for instance. I rebuilt it in Diabolus but it does not yet match its predecessor. We also lost the Hall of Remembrance, which held the Pillar of Ages and information on the greatest Assassins of all time. It dated from my first term as Grand Master. I rebuilt that, too. After a couple years, the Guild was back on its feet. We were still dominant and as fully recovered from our loss as we could be. I visited the ruins of the Tyr Guild often in those days, letting the memories and the wailing of the tormented souls wash over me. They had likely been trapped there by Ahandora in punishment for there offense. It was one small way to get back at Tygona, I suppose. I took pleasure in knowing that I had sent many of them to that fate myself.
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Thus, life continued. Our base of operations had shifted across the continent but our power was no less. We still dominated in all the cities of man, now surveying our domain from the Assassin’s Peak. I continued to work on improving the tools of our trade, developing guild items for members of rank. Otherwise, the next two decades passed rather quietly. We did not become embroiled in any more guild conflicts as the rest of the world left us to operate as we wished. Of course, the occasional individual would need reprimanding and we were still open for business. Life was good.
On a suggestion from Opacus, I instated another new practice within the guild. That of taking apprentices. We wanted to ensure that we continued to develop talent to secure the future of the Guild. Only Shadows and higher could take on apprentices. We each chose to teach in those areas in which we were known to be the leading authority. For instance, Opacus, being the SpyMaster, taught his particular brand of unique skills. I, myself, took on a young man by the name of Dakon as my apprentice. I would be schooling him in my own area of expertise: the kill.
I actually took a great deal of satisfaction teaching him one-on-one. He was an apt pupil and hung on my every word. The kill itself is the smallest part of the whole. It is the preparation, the planning of when and where, setting your opponent up for defeat without him even being aware that allows the end game to play out. You manipulate every factor to your advantage and sometimes spend days doing it. The target usually only sees the ground rushing up to meet him, completely unaware of everything that went into ensuring his demise. But I assure you, it is never a coincidence that a man happened to be felled in the short time slot when he was alone in a room with one exit. It is never a coincidence that a man was killed in the middle of a fight. It is never a coincidence that a man died holding the wrong weapon or wearing the wrong gear. The goal is to take into account every eventuality. Then, of course, you get into the proper weapons and disguises for the assassin. Many people I killed never even knew it was I who killed them. For example, it is amazing the freedom from suspicion an assassin gains by killing with a sword.
But that is enough detail on the plying of my trade. By this time I was more than simply famous, despite my increased tendency to hold myself somewhat aloof from the daily affairs outside my own guild. I was a fixture in the minds of the masses. I was regularly addressed by strangers as Lord Kaid, Lord Evershade, or simply Sir and a deep bow; distinctions I never demanded but let pass. I had thrived during one of the most contentious and volatile periods of modern history, surviving where others had perished, succeeding where others had failed, and helping carry the Guild through without once allowing its prestige or dominance to falter.
As the years passed, I knew I came nearer to the end of my life as an Assassin. I had lived my life, done what I could, and soon it would be time for a new era to begin for the Merchants. The Guild was strong and stable but, I knew, in danger of becoming stale, locked in a stasis that would make it ripe for the plucking. I would do whatever necessary to keep our fruit on that highest branch and out of the dirt below. I began keeping an eye out for a successor. I wanted new blood. I knew losing me would be a huge loss for the Guild and the one who followed me would have to work hard to keep it strong. My name would simply be added to the names that had come before, just a part of history.
I was 78 when I passed Shadow Fang to the next hand. My elven blood still kept me fit like a man of much fewer years but I had seen a lot. I had done a lot of living. I decided that I would name the first ever female to succeed me as Guild Master of the Assassins: Tanahlei Satoh. I took time to quietly prepare her for what I would bestow on her before I deemed her ready. She knew the Guild well. She knew the trade. My only reservation was that she would lack the steel to keep what was ours and take what we needed. While I was at the helm, the Guild was unassailable largely because I was unassailable. People would look for proof that she was as well. I knew not how much longer our over sixty years of supremacy would last. Only time would tell.
I would like to take the time now after retelling the most monumental events of my career, years after my departure and as I lay the final phrases upon this manuscript, to reflect. I have led a life of tremendous privilege, the greatest of which was to be a Brother in the most magnificent congregation of men and women the world has ever known. The Merchant’s Guild allowed me to achieve everything I had ever desired for myself and far more. We ran the world. I lived the most fitting life imaginable for a man born on the Day of Deception in the Month of Shadows. Perhaps it was all predestined. To those who came before me and to all those who will come after, I raise a toast:
Here is to the Rose. Let not its thorny daggers blind you
To the beauty they defend. May Ahandora guide your steps…
And your blades.
And with that, I suppose, I am left with nothing yet to do but to sign with a flourish.
~ Kaid Evershade, the Shrouded Blade, twice Grand~Master Assassin <SoA> |
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