My name is Myr and I'm a retired assassin...well, I'm technically still an assassin. I quit a long time ago, but that sort of life doesn't just leave you alone. No matter how far I travel or change my appearance they always end up finding me...well that's not exactly accurate either; I always find them. Part of being an assassin is spotting others in the same profession, so whenever I see someone that intends to kill another person I step in and stop them. Very rarely does this end with the attempted murderer breathing, but I do try to keep them from dying.
You're probably wondering why I try to keep them alive, it's a very simple reason actually; I don't like killing people. I was trained as an assassin from a young age, my parents had owed a rather large debt that they couldn't pay so they sold me to the Assassin's Guild. They trained me in the Art of Murder, as they call it, turning me into a weapon that the rich could rent out for their various devious and nefarious purposes. They honed my body and mind like you would a dagger, making me sharp and extremely deadly for those who know how to utilize my skills properly. I never enjoyed killing, but I am damn good at it.
Unfortunately any time I encounter another assassin the Guild gets an update as to where I am. If one of their agents doesn't return they send another to investigate. No matter how many times I change my appearance there is one simple fact that remains, Magic is unique to every individual. The Guild can use it to track me or at least who I've killed. Magic came as easily to me as breathing came to others, so the Masters of the Guild saw my talent early on so I was trained as a Shadow Dancer. I flit between the shadows of the world, vanishing from one place to appear in another. This allows me to gain the upper hand in combat but it leaves a very obvious aura, which then allows the Guild to know where I've been.
I've tried fighting without Magic but even the slightest whisper in the back of my mind brings it to me, after so much training it's now a reflex. Any time a sword is about to cleave me in two or an arrow is about to skewer me I vanish and appear behind my attacker. At that point I either knock them out with the hilt of one of my daggers or I slit their throat. I prefer the non-lethal outcome because I know that most of these men and women had no more say in the matter than I did.
I ran away from the guild when I was seventeen years old, I've been running for two years since. I used to change my appearance with every city I went to, but now I just don't bother with glamour. I'm five feet and nine inches tall, lithe and lean with toned muscles, short messy brown hair, and eyes that turn fully grey in the light and pitch black in the darkness, no iris or anything just that one color. My eyes used to be normal, brown actually, but using my particular style of Magic changed them permanently. I do however use minor illusion Magic to make them appear as they used to. I don't have much body hair, a light dusting on my arms and legs is really it, but it's the same dark brown as the hair on my head so it stands out against my pale skin.
I had managed to earn a meager living as a Bard, singing in taverns and at camps I happened upon. The innkeepers would sometimes let me stay for half the normal price since I attracted other customers, but most of my money still went to meals and beds. I have been invited by other patrons to share a room, but I normally declined politely as it was mostly women who sought my company. Occasionally I would catch the attention of a man, but they normally wanted a clandestine meeting in the stables or behind the kitchen.
I was heading to the capital, Vorden, to perform for the royal court when I recalled just how I had gotten there. I had been singing in a tavern in a town close to the capital when a Knight of the Realm happened to stop in. He came up to me after the performance and started talking to me.
"You have a wonderful singing voice," he said to me. He was a few inches taller than me, had neat jet black hair that framed his tanned face nicely, he filled out his armor very well, had a chiseled jawline, piercing blue eyes, and a smile that made my knees weak. His armor was polished well, but it had a few spots that showed it had been used which meant it wasn't just decorative. I expected that most of his body was muscle under the shiny outer shell, built up from practice with his sword and shield. His voice was deep yet melodic, sending shivers up my spine.
"Thank you Ser," I said as I blushed, I'm not used to getting compliments from handsome men.
"What's your name?" He asked.
"Myr, Ser. May I ask what your name is?" I inquired.
"I am Ser Aiden of Vorden," he said with a bow, "how do you know I'm a Knight Myr?"
"I noticed the symbol of the Royal Household on your armor," I said, "but you're not a member of the royal family."
"Oh, why am I not a Royal? Do you know them all personally? Can you recognize them in a crowd?" He asked with a smirk.
"No, not at all. But Royals have honor guards, valets, and other servants with them at all times," I replied, "You, Ser, are on your own. No one is watching me to make sure I don't try to kill you or pick your pocket. There's also no one waiting just behind your shoulder to heed your every whim, fill your cup, fetch your food, or to wipe your arse." Ser Aiden laughed heartily at my comments. What I didn't tell him was that I saw two people in the tavern who wanted him dead, one fat old man at the tavern's bar, the other was the assassin the fat man had hired. The fat man was looking back and forth between the Knight and the assassin, while the assassin was focused on his target.
"You're very observant, but how do you know that my guards aren't just waiting to catch you in the act?" The knight asked after he finished laughing.
