His name was Jivokun Hukaii but this was not the name given to him at birth but rather at his rebirth. His reputation proceeded him and wise old men and young punks with more brains than bravado crossed the street when he swaggered into their path. He had that thousand yard stare that men get when they've killed more than their share of men and felt nothing for it.
Using the candle on the table; Jivokun lit the paper in his hand on fire and watched it burn. He snuffed the candle and knelt in the darkness of the safehouse room that he was provided by the guild. He knew the punishment for murder if he was caught but his next mark had been named and that was that. He thought back to all that had brought him to this ominous point in his life...
...His people had dwelt and hunted the plains around the Endless Desert since the Great Eye first crossed the sky or thats what the shamans always said and he had no reason to not believe them. Despite his unpure birth the Shadar-Quah clan had raised him as they would any other Shaonti son. But his mothers husband couldnt handle the shame of a half breed born before their union. Behind her back the youth had been beaten and taken far out into the sands to be left for dead by a group of men loyal to his stepfather...
...Fear, anger and hatred bred like wildfire in his thoughts. He wandered the desert for many days in a feverish state. At times he imagined he was carried by a giant, black scorpion that whispered in his mind. Dark and empty whispers they were but they filled the void in his life none the less. But a youth's body could only stand so much and three days without water and nothing but a scrawny lizard to eat led him to collapse face first...
...Drixtin was a weathered, middle aged miner that was as grouchy as they came but he had found Jivokun and had nursed him back to health. He never really gave a reason but Father told him in a dream that it was because of a promise he had made to a now deceased wife. Life in Issust Hold wasn't all that bad but it came with many dangers to a young man with no connections. After one particularly bad beating at the hands of a local gang; Drixtin gave him a knife. This would be a decisive turning point in Jivokun's life. The next night he caught one of the gang unawares and slit his throat in the name of Father; pledging his life and soul to the Reaper. But he had been seen and had to get out of town. Drixtin called in a favor to a salty pirate and had Jivokun put on a boat bound for Coran. Whiel he didnt even look back as the boat left Issut Hold but he deep down he knew he owed that old man a debt he could never repay and still had the knife...
He shook his head to clear the memories and focused on the task at hand... Father wont abide distractions... he thought as he crawled out onto the roof with an effeciency of motion that was almost uncommon and into the moonlight. Those able to see under such conditions could tell that he was built just like the daggers he favored; long, thin, well balanced and deadly as hell. He was dresssed in modest yet fashionable clothing that was a smokey black. A pair of daggers jutted from each hip and a sharp eye could probably spot a few more. He kept his hair in the mohawk fashion of his mother's tribe and boldly wore jewelry even in places where most men clutched their pouches tight.
He was a Guild man now. Such talents as his didnt go unnoticed for long and the 'its with us or against us' speech left little room for debate. besides they allowed to honor Father Skinsaw in the only way appropriate. That they didnt know of his eternal pledge didnt really matter in the long run.