He strode into the palace, his black hood down over his eyes, barely letting a glimpse of his nose. His hood billowed a bit on the sides, unlike the hoods the five other men in white were wearing. He stood out amongst them, for his face was not cleanly shaven; it had a little dark stubble, and there was a very prominent scar coming down from below his right eye to his jaw. He walked with an air of power, letting his buckled boots almost strike the ground as he walked, but not removing anything from his smooth, long, powerful strides. He held his head bowed slightly, taking away from his height of six foot two, but the movement of his shoulders hinted at the power behind his one-hundred and sixty pounds. He was very lean, but there was no mistaking the raw power behind such a light package.

The other men, in two rows behind him, walked with their heads up, eyes covered by their hoods, and little arm movement by their sides. They walked straightly, but still smooth strides. He let his arms move win rhythm with his stride, not gangly, but with an air of power, as was everything this… man, did.

The two palace guards slammed their spears against the ground and shouted, "Halt, who goes there?" as was the proper salutation. They knew very well who was before them, but they dare not show signs of weakness. For this man was not known for an insatiable urge to kill, but only for the stone cold heart with which he did so.

"Rephen." The man in black said, quietly, almost so quiet they might have thought it a breeze in the wind. But they knew better, this man was very gentle, he spoke with care, and let no emotion betray his words. He was chivalrous, but that's no reason to assume he wouldn't kill you.

"What business have you with the king?"

He stepped forward, while the men in his company stayed in their place, he approached the guard who was speaking,

"A dispute." Again, nothing more than a gentle whisper, not giving rise to any inflection of the voice, but just very gently spoken Very unnerving, to hear a man with such potential to kill, but he seemed to cast all that side when he spoke.

"I believe that the king would not like to be in your presence, given the state of affairs." The guard said, knowing that there was a dispute, but also knowing that his master surely didn't want to meet this killer in person.

"Is that so?" He said, this time his mouth opened on the 'so', and he let his head tilt a little; one could only imagine his eyebrows being raised.

"I believe so, sir, I have not heard the words but I have inferred such from his behaviors today." His face betrayed a little fear, but he still stood his ground.

"Mhm, I see…" He let his voice trail off slightly, nodding slowly. The brim off his hood swayed a little, but gave nothing away. "Well, now what are we going to do about it?" He said, letting a sigh pass through on the 'well', as he folded his arms. The guard looked at him quizzically, such a display of emotion, well, a display of anything was very uncommon for this man. One would think that this man was not capable of showing such things.

"I – I would, um, well, sir, uh…" His voice cracked, and he turned his head slightly; dumbstruck by the folding of arms.

His left fist shot out, crushing the man's throat. Just as he did this, he let loose a throwing knife with his right, slamming into the other guard's head.

The guard gurgled, looking into the darkness where he knew this killer's eyes lay. He stood there, his right arm extended; his left still lodged against his neck, and let a little glimpse of his eye glare out at the dying man's face.

The guard froze. He stopped gurgling, and his dying heart skipped a beat. This man's eyes, they were not the eye's of a man. His display was only a game, only a game of emotions. He had not the soul of a man, these windows spoke of something much deeper, much darker. His heart beat again, and he let out one last gurgle before his life was snuffed out.

"Bury them." He said, loud and clear, to his men as he tossed the guard's lifeless body to his left. His men paired up and took care of the bodies, taking them over to the royal cemetery, where these honorable men would be buried.

He walked towards the door handles, slowly, in his faster gait, which didn't speak of as much power; his back straighter and his pace to the point.

He placed his hands on both sides of the double doors and gave a light, smooth push, letting his shoulders roll into it a little. He strode in, following the opening doors, as he took on a regular walk. He soon found himself walking up the rich read carpet, with its golden, swirling edges laid atop a large marble floor. The king's room was large, a vast hallway with a huge, arching ceiling. The floor stretched a good thirty feet on either said, and many a man exhausted himself walking along the carpet towards the king's high-backed throne.

This wasn't the first time Rephen had been here. He knew that there were only ten guards on either side of him, and only four standing on either side of the throne. He knew the king was there, he didn't have to look up from under his hood.

"The great Rephen," The king began, from his seat. Rephen didn't break stride, he continued his slow, powerful walk up to the king. "Pray tell, what brings you here?"

Rephen said nothing; he walked forwards, covering the vast distance one step at a time. There was a pair of guards behind him now, one on either side. Four more up ahead on either side; he would pass one more pair soon.

The king let out a sigh, and said, "My oh my, you're just a stubborn man, aren't you?" He asked, his voice reverberating through the great hall. He was a smaller man, only about five foot four, but he still outweighed Rephen, as most people did. He was by no means fat; however, he was a strong, stout man, black hair cropped short.

As Rephen came upon the third pair, one exactly on wither side of him, he stopped.

"Do you know why I'm here?" He asked them, looking from side to side. The only sign was the direction his hood took; he still kept his head down.

"No…" One of the guards said, letting the 'o' continue, questioning.

"Ignorance is bliss." The last words they heard, before they all fell down dead. Even the two men who stood by the door, they were further than fifty feet away, still got a knife buried into their nasal cavities and a little beyond.

"What in the HELL do you think you're doing?" The king shouted in outrage.

"Tying up loose ends." He said, crouching down, letting his black jeans show a little, his overcoat that reached past his knees brushed against the ground, as he turned his hips and brought up a gauntleted hand. He launched himself forwards, springing the massive distance in one leap. He landed on both his feet, letting his knees bend slightly, and his head bow forwards. His arms were held out, his tight, wrought iron gauntlets seeming like gloves. They were smoked, and buckled atop his sleeve, and the joints had spikes running off, smoothly along his arm. His white color bone stood out a little from his black button-down shirt, unbuttoned at the top but covered by his overcoat. It was a light garment, with a wrought iron piece affixed to the left shoulder, and split at the waist on his back, leaving it to two points reaching the insides of his knees. He stood straight, and let himself sink into his gait as he set on foot forwards, and threw out another salvo of knives into the four remaining guards.


Rephen stood in front of him, his gauntleted fingers punched around his collar bone, and lifted to see him at eye level. He had his hood swept back, and his head, brown hair only a little longer than his stubble, and his eyes. They were something deeper, darker than a human's, something no human would ever wan to peer into.

"You will not speak His name." His didn't raise his voice, but it reverberated through the air, with something more than just spoken word echoing in his voice.

"What – WHAT ARE YOU?" Rephen looked back at him, his eyes dead, the other's wide with fear.

"Ignorance is bliss." And he crushed his collar bone, and ran his finger up and split his throat open.

"Where they given the proper burial rites?" Rephen asked his men, they nodded. "Good, they didn't have to die, they deserve at least that much."

His men stood stock still, as they always did. They were the only ones to see these quite sighs and mournful words; but they still meant nothing. They still assumed it was part of Rephen's game of expressions. But, he was persistent in this behavior, and didn't show it often.

He had his hood drawn up, and he tugged the high collar of his overcoat forwards and back down towards his shoulders, so the billows of his hood could rest easily on it. He had a strip of crimson lining the inside edge of his overcoat, which stood out when he had it unzipped to the middle of his chest as he usually did. Everyone knew he wore dog tags around his neck, you could always hear clinking together, but nobody's ever seen the tags themselves, only the chain. He also wore a black cross on a chain around his neck and it hung just below the points of his collar bones. He wasn't necessarily a religious man, but then again no one really knew if he was a man at all. But, everyone was certain that he understood things far beyond that of any man. No one questioned his actions, and when they did; there are innocents killed in the path to killing them, as was the case with the king.

"Shall we be off?" One of the men asked. He was six feet tall, as were the other three, and had a soft voice. A quality that persisted through the men Rephen allowed to follow him.

"Yes, we have no more business here." When Rephen spoke to these men, he spoke clearly. Not too loudly, only they could hear them, but his voice would not be confused with that of a breeze. "If you have business elsewhere, go tend to it."

He then walked out of the palace, and the men exchanged glances, transferring information of whether or not they had business, if they needed a partner, and with that two of them paired off, and the other two went independently.