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Crimson Blade Chapter 3Altair watched from the shadows as Quamir al sahd, a slave trader, examined his latest import of slaves. Now was the time to strike! Altair quickly checked his weapons one last time. When Quamir turned to gaze into the shadows where his death awaited he saw nothing of the assassin hiding there, only shadows. Perhaps he had heard the slight intake of breath or the barely audible click of Altairs' blade as it slid into the base of his glove. Whatever had caused Quamirs' paranoia quickly passed as he shrugged and turned to finish his examination.
" Take this one out." He snapped at one of his guards. they bowed and pulled a struggling woman out of a cage to Altairs' left. Altair silently assessed the woman in the dim candle light. Black, no brown hair. Her face was covered in grime and her large eyes told him that she was scared beyond wits end. She was tantalizingly familiar. A spark lit a fire in his mind and Altair gasped. He recognized her alright, she was Ahda, his wife.
" Such a bea
Crimson Blade Chapter 2Altair slowly walked through the streets of Jerusalem. The guards were being particularly nosey, or more than usual anyway. That ass Merrick didn't think he had enough information. So hard to reason with him, that man can hold a grudge. He sighed and cursed when he heard the "pleasant" shouts from the guards behind him.
He turned around to see what all the shouts were about. He already knew, it was all to obvious. The sword on his hip and blade on his back were just screaming Assassin. Luckily some of the guards were either too stupid enough or slow enough to think he was a well armed monk. Some not all. Like these ones for example. Altair burst into a sprint and knocked down some stalls, ran down a few beggars, until he decided that he'd been leading them on long enough.
Altair whirled around. The guards were still there, albeit all the way ay the end of the street. He sighed, exasperated.
Do these guys ever give up, he thought as he rushed into a back alley.
He could still hear the c
Crown of ThornsShe wakes up with red staining her pillow
and the taste of blood like iron in her mouth
It stains her teeth and leaks from her lips, and as she
rinses her mouth out, she can’t help thinking that
it’s better than dirt and ashes
it feels like she’s wearing a noose
of broken promises and shattered glass
that tightens around her throat with every day that passes
She nails a smile to her face
and doesn't let herself think the word dying
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