After the setting of the sun
In this medieval city,
A man ghosts from the shade
His soul devoid of all pity.
His garb was dyed a dusky gray
For melting into the night
He moved with a purpose
While still hidden from sight.
He silently pads to the door
Of a beautiful manse
To enter, he knows too well,
"I only have one chance."
A guard stands just round the corner
So his stealth is his need
The door opens - no lock-
He moves with silent speed.
He creeps up the stairs silently
Into a bedroom dim
This silent shade of death
Comes to claim its victim.
The long, thin knife is in hand
Its edge so razor keen
The slumb'rer sleeps in peace
His life-taker yet unseen.
The blade slips in atwixt his ribs
Stealing his life's last breath
The knife is extracted
Ev'ly grinning with the death.
Suddenly a sound is in the hall
The knife is stowed and hidden
Longer rapier is in hand
Called into place, but unbidden.
A woman walks in, but then stops
With horror in her eyes
At the shadowed murd'rer
Then with piercing shriek cries.
Lightning fast's the rapier's flash
And stops the womans cries
Her lifeblood begins to spill
Her face full of surprise.
The assassin sprints for the door
To flee into the night
But the alarmed house guard
Is ready for the fight.
The guard charges up the stairs
But falls to armored knees
Wounded by the hurl'ed knife
Whose movement's a death-breeze.
The assassin flees through the door
Escaping into the night
He proceeds into a tavern
With his blades out of sight.
He sits in a shadowed corner
Across from another man
Who's dressed in kingly garb
His fat, bearded face deadpan.
"Is the deed done?" he asks quickly
His eyes are eager, bright
Ready to hear the answer
He's waited for all night.
"It's done, but two unpaid deaths,
So now the price is tripled."
The noble looks hurt, aghast,
As if he had been crippled.
The noble leaves on the table
Three sacks filled up with gold
The price he'd had to pay
For this, three lives were sold.
His employer gone, the killer waves
To a passing barmaid.
"What can I get you, sir?"
"The best wine you have, I'll raid."
She brings him a bottle of wine
But the glass, he declined.
He raises it, uncorked, to his lips
And said, "This'll do just fine."
He sits there for the whole night
Filled with inner strife
And just try to forget
That he had to take a life.
In this medieval city,
A man ghosts from the shade
His soul devoid of all pity.
His garb was dyed a dusky gray
For melting into the night
He moved with a purpose
While still hidden from sight.
He silently pads to the door
Of a beautiful manse
To enter, he knows too well,
"I only have one chance."
A guard stands just round the corner
So his stealth is his need
The door opens - no lock-
He moves with silent speed.
He creeps up the stairs silently
Into a bedroom dim
This silent shade of death
Comes to claim its victim.
The long, thin knife is in hand
Its edge so razor keen
The slumb'rer sleeps in peace
His life-taker yet unseen.
The blade slips in atwixt his ribs
Stealing his life's last breath
The knife is extracted
Ev'ly grinning with the death.
Suddenly a sound is in the hall
The knife is stowed and hidden
Longer rapier is in hand
Called into place, but unbidden.
A woman walks in, but then stops
With horror in her eyes
At the shadowed murd'rer
Then with piercing shriek cries.
Lightning fast's the rapier's flash
And stops the womans cries
Her lifeblood begins to spill
Her face full of surprise.
The assassin sprints for the door
To flee into the night
But the alarmed house guard
Is ready for the fight.
The guard charges up the stairs
But falls to armored knees
Wounded by the hurl'ed knife
Whose movement's a death-breeze.
The assassin flees through the door
Escaping into the night
He proceeds into a tavern
With his blades out of sight.
He sits in a shadowed corner
Across from another man
Who's dressed in kingly garb
His fat, bearded face deadpan.
"Is the deed done?" he asks quickly
His eyes are eager, bright
Ready to hear the answer
He's waited for all night.
"It's done, but two unpaid deaths,
So now the price is tripled."
The noble looks hurt, aghast,
As if he had been crippled.
The noble leaves on the table
Three sacks filled up with gold
The price he'd had to pay
For this, three lives were sold.
His employer gone, the killer waves
To a passing barmaid.
"What can I get you, sir?"
"The best wine you have, I'll raid."
She brings him a bottle of wine
But the glass, he declined.
He raises it, uncorked, to his lips
And said, "This'll do just fine."
He sits there for the whole night
Filled with inner strife
And just try to forget
That he had to take a life.
Awesome job.
