Only way to the island is through such as icebergs and frozen coral reefs leave other means of harboring impenetrable. The mountain, sheltered with guard towers to bang the gong to warn of strangers. Yet within the temple, the powers of death are being harnessed, cradled like the sky cradles the sun and then unleashed upon the world when he received a contract to hunt.
A darkened place beyond the eternal curtains where those of the living had no place to go. Such hung many victims chained lifeless. Stolen of all their dignity. Stolen of pride, and that of their soul. Those who where not hung from the hooks of wall, where human coals, skin growing black and withering.
The wind like icy fingerscombing through his hair. He remembered this was how it always have been, the traits of death handed down to him by ancestors like some macabre gauntlet. The blood that flowed like river, the screams of night when the charges are introduced with a dagger slicing across their throat. It was the survival of the fittest, the weak links in the family tossed into the drowning depths of the sea while the strong where put on the backs of Gods andtaught all that could be taught. He was one of weak, or so they thought, tossing himaside within the bowles of icy water, yet he would never die, somehow the phantasmic visage of some unknown entity seem to smile upon him as some discarded low boat buoyed in the tossing of waves and he brought himself to crawl within it.
Cold, alone, starving within the ocean he just let course take its toll, he didnt know how long he was upon that boat, the days and night blending together in some tapestry of time in which he lost count of befor the boat washed ashore upon a beach, and that is where he would become strong, the black-sheep tossed aside like some discarded leaf in the depths of autumn. He nursed himself back to life, that small jungle beach becoming his hunting grounds, the predators his brothers, the vegetation his food. He became night within the isolation of darkness.
The boat he recently came ashore upon was fashioned over and added upon to enable him to find that icy domain in which he was so easily put to death. As night cut across the world he made his way across the ice slush terrain, a wraith in the catacombs of shadows as he snuck into the temple in which his families train. They never seen him coming, the glint of steel, the tactical movement of a Killer already dead to a world.
He watched his father face, he let his own father stare within the polished mirrors of night, that where broken, shatterd windows to ones soul that has long since been destroyed, before he would wrap his cloak digits and suffocate the life from his own blood. Torture him as Death would creep up upon his dead, he would allow the cascade of that sweet ambrosia of air to fill his lungs befor he uncoiled a gryotte and sent the thin metal wire slicing into the bruise skin of throat as blood would glint like liguid rubies upon that thin wire. All dead and he was still alive he went into business for himself.
Sending word out the Assassin was reborn, not out of a like of fire like the sinners who washed away in the pit of hell, but in a lake of ice, turning him into that same element that tried to snuff out that flame of life. Thus the predator moved once more,Finding out word of His Fathers death He moved quickly to optain His fathers accord and carry out the Bloodline, which was easy, They Both looked so much alike.No one telling the difference.