Snippet #2167702

Kastodoan, Abel's home since he was a boy. It was different to him then, seemed brighter, he found solace here. Not anymore. There was no peace to be found here, not for him, not here. This city had fallen, it's time had come. Like the ruined cities of old it had become a breeding ground for suffering and injustice. The hope of a new dawn had died years ago leaving only darkness in it's wake. Abel was the personification of that darkness. The cruel unfairness of a life snatched away for what seemed like tragic chance, the flip of a coin. By Abel's hand fathers never came home to their children, mothers never again got to kiss their little ones goodnight. He brought death to all, good or evil, just or wicked made little difference to the killer of men. The utter hilarity of seeing life as black and white as the good men and the bad was pathetic and naive to him. The world was coated in a morally grey cloud stitched together from the lies, deceit and cruelty of the denizens of this city. This city is afraid of him. For he had seen its true face. The streets are little more than extended gutters and the gutters are full of blood. Soon the drains will fill with their gorey payload and all the vermin will drown. The accumulated filth of all their sex and murder will foam up about their waists and all the whores and nobles will look up and shout for a savior yet none will come. There will be only Abel, the killer of men, looking down at them unflinching in his gaze like the cold stare of death itself. Abel saw all the secrets of this city and those who called it home. It was astounding what dark truths one could glean by waiting in the shadows and merely listening. He knew about the kings elicit affair with the councilman's wife. He knew that the heir to the Coliatt fortune was not a true heir but merely a bastard placed in that position after the murder of his whore mother by his father the Duke of Geraldine.

Abel stood now on the edge of a roof, peering down at the filthy city below him as a familiar face passed beneath his gaze. The bold and brave Marshal Marcus Shurloft. The less than noble Sheriff of District 3 was rushing to his usual haunt, The Rusty Nail, but this day unlike most days he was not there for a drink. He was there to save a life. Much like the young ogre girl's life he'd saved earlier that day. Abel had inspected the body of the man murdered by the illustrious bringer of justice hours prior. His long coat lay in tatters as his blood pooled around his fresh corpse. His skull caved in from countless shots to the head from a set of brass knuckles. Yet here he was, upholding the law once more, this time the life was that of a prince. A foolish act of bravado and missed placed courage landed the Brother of King Elrik in the less than reputable drinking house. His overconfidence would prove his downfall. So sure of his own abilities he saw himself as too far removed from the common peasantry that one could not simply reach out and place a knife in his belly. The arrogance of nobility was astounding most days yet this one had shown a mastery of it beyond any seen before. The great Prince Valnoral Kas, though did not know it, owed a thanks to whatever God he prayed to that Abel had not been hired to eliminate the prince this day. For if he had snatching the life from his body here would have been child's play. Too easy for a crowd to swell around the brother of the king, too easy for a knife to find it's way between his ribs. All the fault of the poor and desperate sods of District 3. The death would have been chalked up to the arrogant belief that a prince could stroll into a bar in one of the poorest sections of the city and leave unscathed.

Fortunately for the prince Abel was not here with the task of killing princes. He was merely passing through on his journey to his true target. The infamous Police Commissioner of Kastodoan, James B. Gordon. He resided in District 1 and as he sat in his office, no doubt sipping a glass of his favorite Serrice Ice Brandy he would soon learn of the foolhardy actions of the prince and be forced to head down to the 3rd District to collect the King's brother. He would, however, never arrive to relieve the good Marshal of his current duty.