Burial for an Assassin(Open)

[The Dark Knight]

The Dark Knight stood in the front of a small crowd that had gathered near the back of the graveyard. They were assembled to give a final send off to Dante Grixis, on of the greatest assassin's to walk the streets of Camelot. The Knight was dressed in the clothes of a peasant, a hood pulled low over his face to prevent identification. This was the first time in almost a year he had been out in public, but he felt like he had to go.

Outside he was completely emotionless, but inside he felt a mixture of rage and sadness. He remembered when Dante had first shown up in Camelot, exiled from his home and lost in this new place. He had been surprised at Dante's skill as he quickly progressed through the ranks of the Brotherhood. The Knight felt a small amount of guilt for his death, he was the one who sent Dante to kill the Prince after all.

He looked on as a priest approached the casket that held Dante's body. Soon he would be entombed in the earth with all those who had passed before him. The crowd was mostly lows or brotherhood members and from what the Knight could see his were the only dry eyes in the crowd.

He knew that Evie and Henry were Dante's closest friends and he made a mental note to send them his condolences. He couldn't remain here, lest he do something he would regret. As he pushed his way through the crowd to leave he muttered, "Ye'll be missed, lad."

[Prince Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur was surprised by the turn out to Dante Grixis' funeral. He hadn't known the assassin had had so many friends- nor he could he understand why. It was not that he thought Dante a bad man, quite the opposite in fact, he had just assumed the life of an assassin to be lonely and cold- although he had already been proved wrong on that front when he discovered Evie's relationship with him.

The day was perfect for a funeral, if that was even possible. The sun shone brightly and the spring air was still, which gave everything a serene and peaceful aura. Arthur smiled sadly as he passed by his mothers grave, before he stopped and watched Dante's burial from afar.

He knew that going too close would only encourage more attempts to take his life, and today of all days, he knew he ouldn't risk that. It wouldn't be fair on Evie or on anyone else, to spoil this holy day by aggravating the Lows further. They already hated him and it was going to take a lot before they even began to trust him again.

Dante's coffin was lowered slowly into the ground in silence. It was nothing fancy, just a wooden box. The dark wood seemed very fitting for the man somehow, almost like it was imbued with his personality. Arthur waited until he was in the ground before he left the hill and returned to the castle.

[Henry Renold]

Henry stood on top of a hill not far from the graveyard. He could just about see the freshly dug grave- Dante's coffin laying nearby, the dark wood gleaming in the sunlight. He wasn't going to the funeral. He couldn't.

He saw a shamefaced Prince Arthur approach the cemetery and scowled. How could that low life even think about showing his face around here after what he had done? He clicked his wrists and released his blades. The cold metal felt incredible against his palms and he longed to plunge them deep into Arthur's throat, watch the blood spurt as he had with one of Gill's kidnappers. He no longer felt guilt for what he had done that day in the woods, now it made him feel strong and powerful. He could kill again. He wanted to kill again.

He pulled the hood of his cloak up and over his face, just as Dante used to do, before he turned and left the graveyard. For now he kept his blades unsheathed, caressing the long thin shafts lovingly. Desperate for them to call blood.


For now mild mannered Henry had gone. And in his place? A monster.

[Veryan Lithônion]

How do you say goodbye to a dear friend? Not the kind of farewell before a trip, or when you leave for your own house, no, a definitive ‘nevermore’. Dante had been like a mentor, a dear friend and brother to him, but now due to injustice and the most cruel of all games, this was the last time he would stand there, before him, and never again would his eyes look at him whenever he made a god move with the sword or failed miserably.

However this would not change him entirely, he was still himself though his heart was broken at the sight of his dear friend being buried with no honor, simply as if he had meant nothing I this world. His eyes threatened to release tears of pain and grief as he stood by a tree, close enough to say goodbye to his friend and not be bothered by the turmoil of rude and spiteful people. Sure, no one would expect Veryan the humble blacksmith to be acquaintance with an assassin, but that wasn’t all there was to Dante, he was so much more.

He would never forget him, especially because he lend him a helping hard when truly no one else did one he arrived to Camelot, a land he knew not with people he had never seen before. He felt also sad for Evie and Henry, the two persons Dante loved the most, and who would suffer the most in fact he wondered if the would ever recover form such loss. He sighed and finally let the tears fall form his eyes, he did not put on his hood this time, there was no need to hide anything, and whenever Veryan befriended someone he openly acknowledged such thing.

He looked at Arthur, as he pulled himself to come to the burial of the person he killed. He had to admit he had to have a lot of courage to dare to do such a thing, however he knew he could not be angry at him forever, he was his friend.

The moment the funeral finished and everyone left, Veryan approached the tomb and knelt before it, in his homeland it was custom to do something in honour of that person and since his attempt at making him a powerful coat of mail had failed, at least he knew they would remember him by the piece of ornament, mausoleum-like, he had made the night of the murder since he had found no sleep at all.

He removed the silken fabric, which covered it and placed it upon the tomb, he made sure it stuck to the ground with the edges he had made sure were deep enough and then hammered the sides. He then watched for a moment as he whispered, “I will never forget you my friend.” He then whispered a Gaelic song of farewell before he prayed the Old Gods to bless him now and finally stood up and left.

[Evie Perroy]

Evie couldn't understand how the day could be so beautiful. The trees that surrounded the graveyard area were full of blossom that the breeze lifted and gently swept to the ground. The sun was warm, the grass green. The colours surreal and bright. She stood back a little way from the gathered people to watch the funeral. Evie didn't want to talk to anyone, not yet.

She was dressed, for once in her life, in a beautiful gown. It had been delivered anonymously to the brotherhood bar Evie worked in, but she assumed it was from Arthur, out of guilt perhaps. She watched the Prince from afar. Or perhaps she was underestimating him; perhaps he realised she was a low and as she had ruined her only dress the night he killed Dante, she would have nothing to wear. Whichever it was, Evie had accepted the gift. She felt mildly uncomfortably dressed in something so fine, but she had wanted to look nice for Dante, despite the fact he couldn't see her anymore.

Her stomach lurched again at the thought, and Evie clutched at her abdomen hoping she wouldn't be sick, again. Ever since Dante's death, she had woken most mornings feel nauseous, and this beautiful spring morning was no exception.

Sickness passed, she quietly observed all the men who came to Dante's grave to pay their respects: recognising Henry despite his hood, the Prince and the blond boy who had led her away from Dante's body. Despite herself she smiled; so many people had cared about him. With this thought in her mind, she made her way through the crowd to lay her meager offering of wild flowers on the fresh grave, ignoring the whispers of those who recognised her and the murmurs of condolence.

The tears were kept at bay as she placed the flowers gently down, and she didn't hang around for long after. Evie predicted in the future she would spend many hours by Dante's grave, and so she would come back when there were fewer people around.

[Jasen "Dreamer" Masters]

There he was, Dreamer saw him with his own eyes. Dreamers friend, his first friend in Camelot, was laying down in the coffin, ready to be placed in the cold ground. Dreamer battled the emotions bubbling in his own body. Feelings of regret and self pity battled against his anger. That was his friend laying there. It felt so wrong, almost unreal.

And yet, it was real

Tears stained his face as Dreamer looked down at his dead Friend, not the predator of Camelot, the wide grinned drunk who visited him at the Ram. Happy memories, memories of drunken stories and pleasant conversations, battled against the more negative ones. One of which included when Dante had personally stolen from him.

"You stole from me my friend, twice" Dreamer hissed the last word, not caring who listened to him, "Once am item, now this, always taking what was most precious to me.."

Dreamer couldn't keep his tears back, and it turned into sobbed. Dreamer was pushed back as others moved to see the body of the dead assassin. He didn't care, he didn't care about much at the moment, only knowing that he would never shed the sadness that his friend had bestowed upon him.