"The Scarred Assassin"

[meanken]

occ-Hey guys, in this thread I will be telling the whole backstory of my imperal agent, Meanken, copyed from my guild site for your enjoyment. Feel free to comment, give feedback, ect. It will be updated with new posts as I find time to write it.

 

Somewhere in the icy wastes of hoth…..

 

A boy sat in front of a dying bantha, a large figure in a black trenchcoat standing over him. The figure spoke

 

“We caught this thing on our hunt today. It is time for you to grow up. If you are old enough to talk, you are old enough to use a knife. Now, kill this thing” He handed the boy a knife. He stared at it a moment, then spoke up

 

“But….why?” The man, enraged, took his knife and sliced the boy across the face, knocking him into the snow “DON’T QUESTION ME, BOY! It doesn’t matter what he did, he is weak, and so he must die.” The boy lay in the snow, crying “GET UP! STOP CRYING!” He took a whip out of his coat and started whacking the boy with it “Only the weak cry! No son of mine is weak!” Eventually, the boy stopped crying and lay in the snow, silent. The man pulled him up and shoved the knife into his hand.

 

“In the white maw, only the strong survive. This is just the beginning of your training. You will learn to hunt, learn to kill, learn to torture. All the skills you will need to survive in the white maw. Now, kill this thing so we can move on” The boy, fearful of angering his father again, quickly killed the bantha. “Good. Let’s go.” The man turned around and walked away, the boy following.

[meanken]

Out in the icy wastes of hoth, several people walked over to a dead wampa. These members of the white maw were hunting. One, A chiss with a hideous knife scar across his face, walked over to the dead wampa and crouched down next to it, and began skinning it. However, he was unaware that the rest of his hunting party had been given a different task by his father…..

 

Earlier, in the white maw base

 

A group of 4 people stood in a room, and were being addressed by the leader of the white maw

 

“I have called you four here to give you a task. I need you to kill my son.”

 

No one responded right away. The man in question had quickly become known for his skill with his blades, and his deep, unforgiving cruelty. Plenty had died at his hands, both in and out of the white maw. Most members tried to avoid the man just so they would not risk angering him. One of the men stepped forward “Boss….why?”

 

“Because he has progressed too far too quickly. I had planned for him to take my spot when I died, but…..at the rate he is going, he will try to take my place before the year is out. I don’t blame him, it was how I raised him. But….plans change. So now he is a threat and must be eliminated.”

 

One brave man stepped forward “And why should we do your dirty work? You created him. You made him the way he is, you should be the one t-“ he was cut off as he was decapitated.

 

“Anyone else want to say something?”

 

The remaining men stayed quiet “Good. I have arranged for him to be sent on a hunting trip with you three. Kill him there. Now get out, sent up a flare when he is dead”

 

End flashback

 

The assassin quietly approached the target, but he was given away by his boots. As he swung, the gust of wind the weapon created gave him away, and his target rolled out of the way, tossing his knife into the side of his skull. He drew a spare from his belt as the other two drew their swords and charged at him. He ducked under the blades and stabbed one in the crotch, dragging his knife up his chest, and spilling the man’s guts into the snow. The last man hesitated, and the chiss used the opportunity to disarm him, and knocked him into the snow, stepping on his head.

 

“WHO PUT YOU UP TO THIS?! TELL ME!”

 

“Go screw yourself, I ain’t telling you-”

 

He was cut off as his face was smashed into the snow, and a knife was shoved up his ***. “TALK! OR THIS WILL JUST BE THE BEGINNING!” He yanked his face back out of the snow

 

“Ok, ok! It was your father, he sent us! He wanted us to send a flare when you were dead! He-“ he was cut off as his throat was slit. The chiss stood there, brimming with pure rage at his father. He grabbed the flare and sent it up. Let him think I am dead. Let him lower his guard. By the time he notices his assassin’s never returned, it will be far too late.