Shadowbayne makes his way to an alley where you are standing and perhaps deciding where you might find him and see for yourself if he is myth or legend. You dont notice the tall slender young man, with a catlike grace to his demeanor. He tilts his head staring at your back and knowing that you've heard about him.

Shadows conceal his face and intentions. He keeps his distance from you, clasping his hands behind his back as he observes you.

With a lulled voice, he speaks, his words pronounced with an air of accent. "You've managed to find me, that proves you have cunning. Word is that you also have some talent. So, you want to don the Mask? First learn who we really are."

He keeps his distance, his stance seeming relaxed. To you, he seems like a simple good looking guy although legend has it that Shadowbayne was a woman. Maybe its one of those things to conceal the true mastermind behind the mask. He walks around you, and the alley seems to bend to his every whim with shadows, it growing quite silent now. A calmness soothes over you, he doesnt seem threatening and you cant make out if he has any weapons or not.

His steps amazingly dont even make but a sound on the ground he walks on. You find it a little wierd and remind yourself not to make any fast movements lest you want your head chopped off.

"If you listen to the stories, you've heard all sorts of things about the Black Masks. That we are legion, a secret army of evil killers who've turned our back on God and King, ruthless assassins who can walk through walls, who kill every man we see and who grow rich off the blood we shed. Know this: stories are just air. There are those who think that the Black Masks are no more, that the Sundering put an end to our profession. These men are fools. Our role has never been to kill. Killing is just a means. We are the Hands of Fate. Our blades carve the channels which shape the river of Time. "

"Men are judged by deeds, not words. They might revile us from the pulpit, but even nobles buy my blade when they have the need. It makes their hearts sick that my calling is just as high as theirs. How can that be? Consider: How many conflicts have there been in the world? How many wars? How many of them might have been stopped with a single blade?"

With this he seems to disappear without a sound and in the alley, all you can hear are his final words...."Yes, many think we've hung up our Masks, but our blades are as busy as ever."