Hi. Apparently I cant post this on the BBS, so im gonna post it here. (each time i post an addition to a chapter, it will be noted in bold until the next update. K?

Chapter One: Black Moon

As the moon rises over the town of Sha-Blaman, the curfew guards emerge to patrol the winding streets, with orders to kill. But no sentry has ever caught me, and none ever will. I crouch on the corner of the roof of an old, hopefully abandoned house, silent. Then I leap into action, darting over an old washing line. I leap over the gab between two houses, five stories up. I am heading in one direction; toward the Palace of Hope, where the new-fangled mages work to outwork their older cousins, the wizards.

The man I am after is the head, a good man. But that is of no concern to me. One face is as like as another, peasant and prince, hobo or governor. I do what needs doing. No, i do what people want done.

As I near the Palace walls, I see the sentries posted on nearby roofs, prepared for this exact type of intrusion. But I too, am prepared. I drop down into a window, and slip inside. I cross the apartment, and go out the other side. I repeat this with no contacts, and find myself not two meters away from the plain, smooth walls. I quickly check to see if there is a sentry above. Nope. Then i steel myself, and drop away from the window.

As I Plummet towards the ground, my wrist snaps outwards, triggering the propelled grapple in my sleeve. It unfolds, and embeds itself in the stone wall, noisily. Luckily, the sentries are used to noises. As i swoop in an arc, i see, for the briefest of seconds, a glittering wall of pure magic below, charged to kill, and my reason for entering from above. Smart the mages may be, but they are not clever.

I drop the coiled steel wire rope, and land softly and precisely in front of the wall. I am safe here, since the outer guard look outwards, and the sentries on the wall do not look straight down the wall while they patrol, for obvious reasons. But there is no time to rest. The moonlight shines almost teasingly on the gate, the only way in. But once again, I am prepared. I sidle along the wall, and stop, almost a meter from the gate. I pull out an ornamental amulet, stolen from a mage, and slide my other hand down the wall until i find it. A smooth, slightly dented patch of stone, which on close observation was a slightly lighter shade of beige than the rest of the wall. Only pausing to shudder at the mages plain colour tastes, I slide the amulet into the patch.

The gate rumbles, and slides open. Two guards, dressed in blue and silver march out and glare into the darkness. Seeing no-one, they look to the side. But up I go, jumping off the wall. I land on the first guards neck, snapping it, and before he hits the ground, my sword whispers out of its sheath and slices the other guards throat, then returns. I catch him, and drag him and his companion into the shadows beside the gate. Before going, I cut a hand from one of the guards, and wrap the wrist in bandage to stem the bleeding. A blood trail leading from the gate to my position would give the game away.

Then I head down the path towards the main gate, the only way into the Palace. There are no patrols in the grounds, for mages often bring their more 'experimental' concoctions and spells down here, as so not to damage their rooms. That is the mages one main flaw: They are too image-centered. They would rather buy a new Glakinan Plush Rug than invent a new spell. It's a pity that the world of magic has come to this.

As I reach the gate, the two guards lower their spears threateningly.
"Halt! Who be you?"
Only hesitating to mentally sigh at the old fashioned regulations (made to look good) I reply:
"Who are you to question me? Let me pass this instant!"
As I say this, I flash my amulet at them. They look uncertain. I am relying on my authority and amulet to get me through this, but if it fails, many more people are going to have to die. And unnecessary deaths lowers the pay rate, unless it was a well done death.
"You're not going anywhere."
I sigh, and I stow the amulet and let my hand drop to my knives, hidden in my stomach pouch.
"Actually, you'd be surprised where I'm going..."

In a flash, I launch myself forward, and my knives flash once, twice, thrice, and two guards fall to the bloodstained paving, dead before they hit the ground. But there was no time to relish in victory, for two strong reasons.
One, the job has to be done. And
two: A figure is dropping straight down towards me.
I have no time to react. It's all over in a second.

My sword does what my knives cannot. It swings out of its scabbard, and twists. Unburdened by hands, it both knocks the would-be killer aside and slices them in half in the space of a second. It then returns, managing to give of a faint air of smugness. I murmur thanks to my sword, and step forward, towards the gate. It swings open easily and noiselessly. I pass through, thanking the gods that I had stumbled upon this sword years earlier.

I enter a gleaming hall of blue Azarite, decorated with an abundance of shimmery blue and green hangings, each depicting a different sect of magic. The floor is carpeted in silky white plush, and smells faintly of smugness.
At the far end of the hall is a huge podium, crafted out of wood, varnished and polished so much that it shines, even with the dim light of the few candles that remain lit. I stroll up to the podium and place the severed guards hand on the wall directly behind it. A section of the wall about a foot away slides open. And my target steps out.

A tall man, with an imposing form and neatly pressed purple robes. Bald, like most mages, and haughty. Thinking fast, I leap up, and land behind him, silently. The door hisses shut, and almost traps my foot. Mentaly cursing my clumsiness, I expect my sword to draw and kill, but it does not.

I curse again, in my head. As the mage walks steadily towards the door at the other side of the hall, my sword unsheathes itself and hurls itself at the mages head. But as soon as it gets within a metre of him, it stops dead in its flight and falls to the carpet, making a muffled 'thwump' echo round the cavernous hall.

The mage chuckles, and says
"Well well well. a clever little assassin with his clever little magical sword. How.. cute."
And with that, he pivoted and even from the considerable distance he was at, crashed a fist into my stomach, and reeled back, clutching his fist.

It's a little known fact that assassins feed on special nutrient pellets that seep directly into our systems, negating the need for most of the lower internal organs, which are removed and replaced with a metal covered 'stomach pouch', ridding the need for unwieldy backpacks. And when they are enlarged internally with magic, they are an invaluable aid.