The Assassins' Guild - Week 7 News

What is our life if not an ephemeral experience? I thought in my last moments as Haruto Amo smiled at me from the other side. I smiled back, aware that I had reached a point of no return, the poison on my skin burning my breath away as it ate its way through my flesh. Around us the battle still ravaged the fields with darts and bullets, sparks, splashes and flashes firing in all directions. Yet, I was a stranger to all of this, my mind already detached from the worries of the livings which still stood fighting.

Ah, isn't it ironic? That I, the one who used to pull the strings on people and make them dance to my own will, the one who plotted and orchestrated the deaths of many just for amusement, was destined to fall by the hand of my ally? I never trusted her, but I had thought she would at least honour our deal, as it was advantageous to both of us. And what a price did she pay for that choice, when she decided to pull the trigger on me, her only hope of getting a kill in the duel. My ghost watched her struggles to survive as she, on one foot, put up a valiant fight against the vicious Barry Bluejeans and his "ally", the warlock Merlin. Still, perhaps it was not as much her heroic stance as their appalling lack of skills and aim which kept her alive.

Visions in the past nights had told me, that I was to find death in betrayal since I had treacherously delivered death to my "allies". This was the price I had to pay for breaking my deals: there is truly no escaping the rules governing this world. Likewise, my silly "ally" fixed her mistake with her departure from life.

O Lyra Viria, I should have had us seal our deal properly, the old-fashioned way, with a kiss. I am sure there is a specially reserved spot for me, but not for you, in the ninth circle of hell. I was a ghost, damned to haunt these lands, forever trapped in a curse while you dearie, you were an assassin, destined for shadowy glory, a glory which you burnt with your own hands (and poison). I am the one who will descend to Caina to join the ranks of the previous traitors who before me feasted upon their kin. Ah, the memory of Brown Reaper still torments me even in death, he was the closest sort of friend I had acquired over the years and I regret being forced to take his life for my own greed. Fittingly, those who come after us shall find me trapped in the infernal lake of ice, Cocytus, just a step away from Judas.

I can hear M's soul snickering at me from behind the curtains for such a deserved ending. Oh, he died a loyal servant to his morals, something which I could never possess. I am positive my demise did not come as a surprise to him, nor my pathetic attempt at survival. As I said, I trusted Lyra Viria to have enough intellect to wait for us to take down at least one the major threats in the fight, but she did not show such sagacity and gunned me down with acid. My fight might have been short-lived, but it certainly is worth adding it to the annals. I died entirely disarmed, caught off-guard as I was desperately trying to summon my plushies' army. I wasn't quick enough to even conjure up a fireball against her before I realised that she was too close to my right side.

Letting go of my gun was a mistake, yet not letting go of it earlier was an even worse mistake. I should have never trusted such human-made modern weapons; they have faults and can malfunction. My last bullet misfired, sadly, as I was close enough to a swearing Barry Bluejeans, whose weapon had also jammed. I did not realise mine was no longer working for a while, probably due to the fact that such tasteless and unreliable way of murdering people had never appealed to me. That gave him enough time to grab one more weapon and come after me. I was forced to retreat into the welcoming arms of my "ally".

She had been chasing Merlin, while I gauged the distance between me and Barry Bluejeans trying to estimate his range against mine. I was not being useless, I was using my brains. That is also why my preferred starting position had been at the far back of this wasted land, the sun forcibly shining on my glittery skin despite my attempts to shield it. Yet, I already knew, from the moment when I stepped into the field that Merlin would be the one standing victor. I had expected that he would be the one to put an end to my villainous existence and I had been fatally wrong.

Now, before my soul is finally dispatched to the deepest part of Hade's domains let me entertain myself some more. Fencing with Jareth in a mostly sophisticated fashion which leads to my "death" once again. Dancing with a master of the drunken sword, Alder Skrilth, until my feet can no longer hop me around. Finally settling the score with Lyra Viria as our promised fight had to happen, even if it means wielding sabres in the afterlife. Two armies of more or less recently departed figures are formed at last and within seconds of them clashing I take my chance and shoot Barry Bluejeans in the head, this time with a working gun.

I should be reaching the end of my story now. Yet, this is my epitaph, so allow me some sentimental farewells before this age fades and a new world without us in it begins.

The wind subtly breathes,

whistling against metal barrels.

I hear your call Death,

Yet I fear your grip.

I see Kharon's ship sailing

across the river, past the trees.

Strangled tunes urge its oars,

Yet it has no haste.

There's no helmsman,

There's no need for one.

For this is a one-man only journey,

With one stop and one lantern.

Angels chant the despair of souls

as I embark on my final voyage.

Silver strings accompany them,

Cursed choir leading to my grave.

Their tones made of delicate lights,

broken into monstrous refractions

as they move through glassy waters,

Tarnished, lacrimal sounds

slowly dying in the distance,

are the last thing I see before

Me and the boat are sucked in,

Devoured by darkness.

Sicut in morte, et in vita

Ego vim numquam relinquo,

Etsi mortui nihil possident.

Sine amore, cum perfidia

Ita deleturus sum.