Protagonist Background Story

Corbit focused his mind on his shadow, letting all other thoughts drift away. He bent his will toward deepening and stretching his shadow around him. As a boy, it had taken him months to even morph his shadow a little, but now it was second nature. He then bent his will toward muffling the sound his feet made. Vespertine activities were best performed while cloaked in anonymity.

The stone wall, well cracked with age, offered ready purchase for his ascent. The moon was hidden behind the clouds, but he knew that the Baron’s estate was sprawling, ornate, in a bad state of disrepair. The Baron had made the mistake of believing himself invincible after gathering much wealth on the backs of his peasants. Notoriety is fickle, however, and no one was there to catch him as he fell from grace. The baron now spent his days feeding and clothing the poor in what Corbit suspected was a grand show to try and redeem himself. The assassin allowed himself a derisive snort before swing himself into the open window on the fourth story.

The room was dark, but Corbit was used to the darkness. He knew the Baron’s room would be down the hallway, to the right. At this hour, the entire household would be asleep.

A tingle was all the warning he had as his instincts threw him to the floor. A gout of flame issued forth from seemingly nowhere in the wall. Corbit felt his cloak and hair catch aflame as he pressed as hard as he could against the floor. Sharp, burning pain dominated his senses. His vision exploded with light, and the pain in his back deepened into an experience rapidly approaching tortuous agony. The smell. The smell. There was no smell but the damp and moldy floors.

Corbit pushed out with his will, tentatively, as he centered his mind above the pain. As he approached the source of the flame, he chuckled softly. It was illusory! He quickly shattered the illusion with the force of his will, and all was as it had been moments before.

The assassin jumped to his feet and made his way toward the Baron’s room with exaggerated stealth. Inside the baron’s room, he found the Baron asleep in bed, alongside a girl who could be no more than twelve. The great baron, savior of the poor, had to sake his lusts just like every other man.

He placed his hand over the girl’s mouth, and shook her lightly awake. Her eyes widened in silent shock and fear. “Quiet,” he whispered, “I do not want you hurt, get up and get out. Speak of this to no one, or I will surely kill you. Do you understand?” Corbit backed up and released her after receiving a nod of agreement. The naked girl stopped only a brief second to stuff her clothes in a bundle under her arm as she fled the room.

After placing a spell of silence around the perimeter of the room and binding him in place, Corbit woke the Baron. He always liked for his victims to know who had killed them, when he had the opportunity.

“Who are you?” The Baron demanded. Corbit admired the man. He was about to die naked in his own bed, and yet he still had enough presence to come across as demanding and in control.

Corbit smiled. “Her you are, the selfless Baron who gives of himself to the poor and destitute. Then you bring their children back to your bed.”

“I fail to see why I should have to answer to you. I doubt you snuck into my estate on any less than nefarious business.”

Corbit chuckled. “Yes, I will readily admit that my purpose is what most would consider evil. I would argue, however, that I am one of the few honest men.”

The Baron eyed Corbit with hatred, a welcome invitation to continue, in Corbit’s estimation. “You see, here you are the champion for the poor, yet you take advantage of them. How much food did it take for the family to agree to let you take their daughter?”

Red filled the Baron’s cheeks.

“You see, I can admit to my foul purpose. I seek my own gains, and my own pleasure. Everyone does. You feed the poor, maybe because it gives you access to more playthings, perhaps because you feel good feeding them, or perhaps to ease your own conscience a bit. But in any regard, you do what you do because it brings pleasure in some way. I can admit that I came to kill you because I was paid handsomely to do so. The things I enjoy cost money, and your death will bring me enough to satisfy my entertainment for many days to come.”

“So that is it then,” the Baron said, resigned. “You have come to kill me. At least I have a conscience to ease.”

Corbit laughed. “ Most men spend half their time trying to satisfy their lusts and desires of various sorts, and the other half of the time trying to make up for their self-perceived excess. I am like any other man, but I do not try to make up for my faults. I have none. My pleasures are not hidden shameful children that I hide in the basement, I rejoice in them. All men seek to further their own pleasure, and avoid that which displeasures them. Who is the more virtuous, the man who sneakily tries to achieve his own pleasure, or the man who hides behind the deception that he is virtuous?”

The Baron stared at Corbit coldly. “Shouldn’t you be about it then?”

Corbit pulled the silence spell away as he left room. One of the Baron’s paltry staff would likely find the body hours later. Corbit had allowed the man to die in dignity by not providing the body of a young naked girl next to the Baron’s. He smiled as he thought favorably of his good dead. Life was all about pleasures, both simple and grand.