The Assassin's Defence

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The Assassin's Defence

Post by The Weaver on 2008-06-12, 00:59

Thought I'd put a copy of this in here as well as back at TW. Still haven't got beyond Canto 3 yet, but an idea is starting to bubble away in the subterranean depths. It'll have to stay there until after I finish the current round of report writing for school, though.

The Assassin’s Defence
Canto the first
So I’m a bleedin’ assassin. So what? Everyone’s got to do
Sumfin’ in this Vale of Tears to earn a florin or two.
An’ I ain’t cut out fer farming, or smithying in a forge,
Wot I’m good at is puttin’ bodies on slabs at th’ local morgue.

Me muvver always said as ‘ow I’d never come to no good,
‘count of me bein’ a toe-rag wiv a head as fick as wood.
But me dad would always argue that I was smarter than she might fink
- Mind you, ‘e wasn’t too smart ‘imself, ‘cos he ended up in clink.

In the place where I grew up, kids like me had to fend for ourselves,
An’ wot this meant in practice was, nickin’ stuff off shop shelves
An’ from the barrows in markets. When a stallholder stopped fer a chat
We’d grab a handful of wot ‘e ‘ad, and then hoof it out o’ that.

Then one day I was ‘elping meself when I heard the dread cry: “Oy!”
And as I bolted between the stalls the call went: “Stop that boy!”
“Not bleedin’ likely!” finks I, as off I shoots like an arrow
Diving between some tall cove’s legs and scarperin’ under a barrow.

Emerging, I trips up a washer-woman, & down she falls wiv a shriek,
An’ her dress blows up about ‘er ‘ead – it was not wot you’d call discreet,
But it was all grist to my mill, for while they all gaped and jeered
They weren’t lookin’ out fer me, & down an alley I disappeared.

Then, just as I was saunterin’ off, thinkin’ I’d got away,
An’ thankin’ the patron saint of thieves fer this, my lucky day,
A hard bony claw of a hand flashed out and grabbed me by the ear,
An’ a voice as cold as a witch’s tit hissed at me:”Come here.”

‘E was a walkin’ skellington, very tall, wiv a ‘ood.
An’ I’m no bleedin’ angel, but I could tell ‘e was no good.
I was about to yell for ‘elp, but ‘e stuffed me into a sack,
An’ jus’ so I got the message, gave me ‘ead an awful crack.

Then ‘e carted me over ‘is shoulder, like a sack of second ‘and clothes,
An’ we went out of the alley, and down a couple of roads
And then he stopped and knocked four knocks on a door, and it opened quick.
By this time I fort I was done for, for I feared ‘twas the local nick.

But it weren’t. ‘E dumped me on the floor, an’ pulled the sack off me ‘ead,
An’ I looked up at another tall cove, ‘ose eyes were cold an’ dead,
‘E ‘ad a big black cloak on, an’ he spoke like a real ol’ fruit,
An’ ‘e said: “Well, well! What have we here? Another new recruit?”

“Been watchin’ ‘im, sir,” said my captor. “’E’s a tea-leaf. ‘E’s got the gift.
Not too hot on the nickin’ side, but ‘e knows ‘ow to shift;
Knows ‘ow to hide an’ change direction in mid-flight,
He can create a diversion and then vanish out o’ sight.”

The ol’ fruit looked me over, with ‘is eyes as cold as lead,
And ‘e chuckled.”Well done Perkins. But he looks like he’ s nearly dead.”
Then ‘e sniffed. “And he stinks like a polecat. Feed him and get him a bath.
And tomorrow, when he’s better, he can start on his new career path.”

An’ that’s ‘ow it all began, in that room so sombre an’ dim,
Wiv Perkins the master assassin, and our mentor, the good Doctor Quim,
An’ though I didn’t know it, I ‘ad really gorn up in the world,
‘cos I’d just been recruited to the Thieves an’ Assassins’ Guild.

Canto the Second
I learned a heap o’ stuff in that place, but I was never top o’ the class,
I failed three times in Poisons, and in Blade Work just scraped a pass.
But I did get an A fer Escapin’, an’ Dr Quim said wiv a smile
That they’d not seen my like in Arson fer a very long while.

An’ that’s ‘ow, I s’pose, I got me first job, a garrison building in Bruges.
It was ‘eld by the Frogs, an’ we was not at war. Perkins said, “Lissen, you,
Get ova there an’ do yer best. But for Chrissakes don’ get cotched.
Job sheet says they can’t know ‘oo dunnit, even if it all gets botched.”

So over th’ water I slips, one dark night, in a boat wot ‘ad seen better days
An’ I sneaks into town through the docks an’ creeps through th’ dark alleyways.
I found the place – it were big, wiv a wall, but its roof was thatch,
An’ I knew if I could get a flame up there, the whole ruddy lot would catch.

Two streets down there was a pub, the lowest, it were, of low dives,
But it ‘ad a couple of torches, burning in brackets outside.
So I waited till some cove started a fight, then under cover of the din,
I nicked both of the torches, and hiked back to the Garrison.

Then round the corner came two jolly lads all dressed up in armour bright.
An’ when I saw that they’d spotted me I nearly keeled over in fright.
They yelled out a challenge, so I staggered, an’ swung the torches around
An’ pretended to be a fire-eater wot was three sheets in th’ wind.

One said, ”Take ‘em back to the pub, you tosser, or we’ll run you in for theft.”
An’ then, to my huge astonishment, the pair of plonkers left!
Still ‘alf not believin’ my luck, I waited after they’d gone
A full fifteen minutes before goin’ ahead with the plan.

I chucks the first one skyward, an’ it catches on th’ roof,
An’ that part o’ th’ thatching goes up wiv a gentle ‘woof’,
Then ‘alf way round the other side, I does the same wiv number two
An’ waits to see it flare into life, an’ then I decide to shoot through.

Well, there must of been sumfing mighty rum in that garrison building in Bruges
‘Cos I’d not gone a hundred paces before behind me there came a loud “Boom!”
An’ a blast of heat like a fart from ol’ Nick knocked me arse over kite,
An’ when I looked back, the walls was down an’ the whole place well alight.

Back to the harbour I scarpers, to the boat wot ‘ad seen better days,
An’ we’re slippin’ out to sea in the dark, while th’ town is fightin’ the blaze,
An’ by morning the white cliffs is showin’, and soon our scabby ol’ tub
Is safely moored by th’ banks of the Thames, an’ I’m gettin’ drunk in th’ pub.

An’ Perkins, ‘e was ecstatic. I fink he may even have smiled.
(Though you never could tell wiv Perkins. Emotions-wise, ‘e wasn’t wild.)
An’ Dr Quim tol’ me to not get big-headed, an’ they weren’t gonna give me a gong,
But ‘e gave me fifty florins, an’ tol’ me to “run along.”

Canto the Third
When it came to me an’ murder, well, it weren’t love at first sight.
An’ it took me two or three goes before I finally got it right.
An’ between the mark an’ me at the end, I don’ know ‘oo ‘ad more pain,
‘Cos before I nailed ‘im I ‘ad to drag me sorry butt clear across Spain.

The moral of the story is, you ‘as ter know yer snake.
I didn’, when I started – an easy mistake ter make.
I bought my first from a dodgy dealer I met in Toulouse
A lively adder wiv enough venom ter take out a herd of moose.

The trick is, don’ get them lively. Get a lazy one that likes to sleep
In a nice warm bundle of dirty clothes wot someone ‘as left in a heap.
‘Cos that’s wot your mark resembles, when ‘e’s asleep in ‘is bed,
An’ when your adder slips in wiv him, well, ‘e’s as good as dead.

In a village jus’ outside Zaragosa, I ‘ad me first go at the mark.
‘E was some loony ol’ heretick, so I thought: “It’s a walk in the park.”
Slippin’ past ‘is guard was easy, for when I peeped round th’ door
The guard was guardin’ ‘is eyelids, and the ‘ole village could hear the snores.

So far so good, finks I to myself, as I stood at the foot of ‘is bed,
An’ I pulls my snake from its basket, ‘olding it behind its head,
An’ I aims it an’ lets it go, and what does the blighter do?
It whips around, quick as a flash, an’ then proceeds to shoot through.

I fort that was bad enough, but there was worse to come,
For the fool of a snake runs into the guard, an’ bites him on the bum,
An’ the poor ol’ coot wakes up all right, an’ lets out an agonised yell,
An’ manages to call for ‘elp, before ‘e departs to ‘ell.

So I ‘ad to run like a street urchin – somefing I knew ‘ow to do.
I ran til I could ‘ardly breathe – I reckon I must of turned blue.
Luckily no one saw me – well, the night was as black as pitch.
But just to be sure I spent all next day, hidin’ out in a ditch.

Th’ next time I caught up wiv the mark, ‘e was at the Leon docks.
An’ I fort of usin’ a blow-pipe, or of crushin’ ‘im under a rock,
But I ‘ad a nice new dagger, an’ I knew I could make it fly
Almost as straight as an arrow, so I fort I’d give it a try.

I chose my place carefully, at the corner of a lane
Where the ‘eretic ‘ad been before, an’ I knew ‘e’d go there again.
‘E was seein’ a widow woman, ‘oo’d inherited quite a roll,
An’ I don’t fink he kept on goin’ there on account of ‘er soul.

So I waited till he came along, and I waited till he passed,
An’ then I stepped out, dagger raised, to make the moment ‘is last
An’ wouldn’t you know it, the widow woman ‘ad come to meet the ol’ coot
Wiv behind ‘er two jolly lads all dressed in armour, to boot.

Well, she let out a screech that would wake the dead, an’ the ‘eretic ducked down,
An’ to cut a long tale short, the guards chased me clear out o’ town.
An’ I didn’t get another chance til I’d tracked him to Toledo
Where I tried a boulder off a bridge, but again, it was a no go.

By this time I was startin’ to fink that th’ mark was one of God’s own
Til one hot summer’s afternoon in a valley as dry as a bone
I spotted an adder fast asleep on some rags in a rubbish pit,
An’ it ‘ardly stirred when I got up close, an’ I fort to myself, “That’s it!”

So I grabbed it quick behind its ‘ead, and stuffed it into a bag,
An’ tried it out that evening, on a beggar dressed all in rags,
It worked a treat – the snake slid in an’ gave the beggar a bite,
An’ the poor soul went from sleepin’ to dead without a single cry.

In an inn jus’ out of Corduba I tracked the ‘eretick down
An’ snuck up to ‘is bedroom, where ‘e was sleepin’ sound,
An’ I let my lazy snake go, an’ off ‘e slithered to bed,
An’ just at that moment the ‘eretick stirred – and wiv one bite, ‘e was dead.

It were months before I saw the white cliffs, an’ reported back to the guild.
I fort they’d ‘av given me up for dead, an’ had my position filled.
But Perkins jus’ gave me a long stare, an’ said “You took a while”
And Doctor Quim passed me a clinking bag before smilin’ ‘is strange dead smile.


[u]


Last edited by The Weaver on 2008-06-13, 00:49; edited 1 time in total
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Re: The Assassin's Defence

Post by sipahioftheporte on 2008-06-12, 03:35

heheh that's nice... the story of a sloppy assassin classic happy I just wonder if this guy is scottish? i had hard times at reading at first but then I got used to all the dialect thing Smile
good work... looking forward to additions
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Re: The Assassin's Defence

Post by Kasey on 2008-06-12, 03:51

its cockeny accent, isnt it?

Anyway, good to post it here, love it at .com
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Re: The Assassin's Defence

Post by The Weaver on 2008-06-12, 04:48

Yeah, it's as good a take on Cockney (or sort of London) as I can do, being in this part of the world. Cheers.
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Re: The Assassin's Defence

Post by Tombles on 2008-06-12, 11:14

Well, it's a better cockney than I could do. Great poem.

pig
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Re: The Assassin's Defence

Post by Seleukos of Olympia on 2008-06-12, 12:30

Ah, a gem of a poem successfully transplanted to our forums Very Happy!

Just one suggestion, you may want to make the canto titles bold to make them stand out.

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Re: The Assassin's Defence

Post by The Weaver on 2008-06-13, 01:48

Thanks, Sel. Done.
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Re: The Assassin's Defence

Post by RedAkbar on 2008-06-13, 03:01

A thoroughly enjoyable read so far, Weaver. Keep on keeping on, dear sir. Smile

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Re: The Assassin's Defence

Post by The Weaver on 2008-06-23, 04:55

Herewith - finally - the fourth canto. It's a bit long, sorry. I kind of got carried away. Cheers.

Canto the Fourth
After that, I became a graduate, an’ set up in me own right,
But I still kept up wiv Perkins an’ Quim – I’d drop roun’, fer a drink an’ a bite,
An’ one day the good doctor says to me, “How’d you like a trip
Half way round the known world? It’d be months in a ship.

“You’d be paid a bundle of course, all up, and stay in the best hotels.”
(I should of known, by the sound of it, that the job ‘ad a funny smell.)
So I arst ‘oo the mark was, casual-like, as if I was havin’ a yarn,
An’ Quim’s cold eyes bored inter me brain, an’ he said, ”It’s the great Khan.”

“Gosh!” says I, still casual like. “Tha’s a tough one!” an’ shook me ‘ead,
Then I pipes up, pretendin’ t’ be fick, “So ‘oo’s the cove wants ‘im dead?”
The good doctor’s face twitched inter a smile, but ‘is eyes never lost that look,
As ‘e said,”I’m afraid I can’t tell you, old man. That has to remain a closed Book.”

It’s the bloody pope, I fort to meself, ‘e’s got ‘is ‘air shirt in a twist
‘Cos the pagan ‘ordes are ruinin’ fings down in the Middle east.
It’s amazin’ ‘ow the Byzantines are a bunch of ‘eretical mothers
Until the ‘eathens ‘ave a crack at them, an’ then they’re our Christian bruvvers.

So I ‘ad a sit and fort for a bit – I knew the odds was bad.
The Great Khan ‘ad got to the throne by murderin’ ‘is own dad.
‘Is favourite method of execution was the impaling stake.
‘Is soldiers would, while you was dying, run a book on ‘ow long it would take.

An’ once you was dead they fort nothing, I’d heard, of rippin’ out yer heart,
An’ scoffing it raw, an’ then scoopin’ out yer eyeballs for desert.
The Mongols numbered ten thousand at least, an’ their camps would be big and ‘ard
To get into an’ out of wivvout gettin’ caught by the guard.

So I opened me trap to say “No fanks guv,” when instead out tumbled a “Yes.”
‘Ow I could of been so bloody stupid, well, I can only guess.
I fink it was maybe the alluring thought of travellin’ so far away,
Or maybe it was the prospect of earning a shedload of pay.

It were months before I found meself “cruising” in the Med,
An’ the best ‘otels turned out to be anywhere wiv a bed
That ‘adn’t been slept in by a goat, so you could say I wasn’t best pleased
When we finally spotted on the ‘orizon the spires of the Middle East.

The towers at Acre , to be exact. Made o’ stone, all bleached white.
An’ soon we was all tied up snug, an’ I was out seein’ the sights.
I wandered dahn to th’ market, to see wot I could find,
An’ I saw a barrow set up there, that rang a bell in me mind.

Y’see, th’ owner was a tartar, one o’ the Great Khan’s lot
An’ ‘e was sellin’ some kind o’ stew called Mongolian ‘Ot Pot.
So I bought a bowl, an’ scoffed it, an’ passed the time o’ day,
An’ all the while I’m schemin’ an’ planning a way

Of nickin’ ‘is barrow, or ‘is horse – sumfing as a disguise
To get me inter th’ Great Khan’s camp, under the sentries’ eyes.
An’ then I spots ‘is Mongol cape. It were warm, an’ ‘e’d draped it on
A crate – so when ‘e turned away, I grabbed it, an’ was gone.

Well th’ stall-holder ‘adn’t noticed, but I never saw ‘is son
‘Oo went after me like a rocket, an’ boy that kid could run.
‘E chased me dahn an alley, an’ I scooted round a bend
An’ like a bloody idiot, I’d run into a dead end.

An’ just as ‘e’s pullin’ out a knife the wind blows off ‘is ‘at
An’ the thick black ‘air that was piled on top comes tumbling out in a plait,
An’ while I’m staring at th’ wee cove, an’ thinkin’ “It’s a girl!”
She’s got ‘er knife out an’ ready, an’ gives it a little twirl,

Then chucks the damn thing straight at me, an’ it hits th’ wall wiv a thud
Close enough to my left ear to draw a little blood.
“Nice throw,” says I, all casual like, “but yer driftin’ a bit to the right.”
“I hit what I aim for,” she says in French, an’ her eyes were as dark as the night.

She ‘ad another knife in ‘er ‘and, an’ she said “Give it to me.”
I ‘ad me own knife out, but I said, “Look, I don’t want it fer free.
I’ll give you fifty crowns for th’ cape. Fifty in solid gold.”
She said, “Why do you want it so bad? It’s smelly, and it’s old.”

“Trust me,” I said, ”it’ll save me life. So do we have a deal?
‘Cos if you ask me, fifty crowns fer an ol’ cape is a steal.
‘E could get ten capes wiv that, and still have a bag o’ cash.”
“Show me your money, o silly thief!” she said wiv a voice like a lash.

So I fished out me purse very careful like, an’ counted out th’ loot
An’ tied it up in a piece o’ rag and tossed it at ‘er boots.
An’ she scooped it up, still wiv ‘er knife ready to do me in,
“You can keep my other knife,” she says, an’ walks off wiv a grin.

Fifty crowns? I need me ‘ead read, I fort, as I slunk off.
It were ‘alf me expenses. I was going ter have to sleep rough.
But th’ cape was just the fing, and I ‘oped, on a real dark night
If I smelt like one an’ I looked like one, I’d pass for a Mongol all right.

It were months before I finally came to the Great Khan’s lair.
‘Is army was seiging Edessa, so ‘e ‘ad this huge camp there.
So I ‘id out fer a couple a days, an’ watched an’ waited an’ lurked
Til I’d figured out a way to get in that wiv a bit of luck, might work.

There were carts goin’ in an’ out all th’ time, wiv loot from th’ neighbouring farms
An’ I noticed that people rode in on them, an’ never come to no ‘arm.
Th’ guards at the gate jus’ gave them a glance, an’ then they waved then on.
So I bought me a place in a wagon, an’ I put me Mongol cape on.

An’ as we rumbled up to th’ gate, I pulled the cape ova me ‘ead,
An’ lay as still as a sack o’ spuds, as though I were sleepin’ or dead.
Well, th’ cart rattled through, wivout any fuss, an’ trundled to a halt,
An’ I slithered off like a snake in th’ dark, scared an’ ready to bolt.

The place was fick wiv soldiers, an’ a smell of rotten meat,
So I quickly ‘id in a stables, keepin’ clear of the ‘orses’ feet,
An peeked out through ‘oles in the woodwork, when I suddenly ‘eard a hiss
An’ I turned as quick as lightning, an’ ‘twas – the little Mongolian miss!

I whispered “Wot are you doin’ ‘ere, for chrissakes, an’ where’s your dad?”
Her black eyes suddenly filled wiv tears, as though I’d done sumfing bad,
‘an she said, “We came here to trade, but the soldiers would not let me be,
And when my dad tried to protect me-“ she broke off, then said, “Come see.”

We crept through th’ dark and wiv every step the rotting meat smell grew.
An’ I didn’t ask ‘er anyfing else, ’cos where we were going, I knew.
The place was the Great Khan’s pride an’ joy – ‘is execution ground,
Where the bodies hung, pierced through, an’ the buzzing of flies was th’ only sound.

I’ve killed a few blokes in me time, so me hide is pretty fick,
But when I saw ‘er dad stuck through like that, it damn near made me sick.
An’ I turned to the girl an I said to her ”I’ve been sent ‘ere to kill
The Great Khan. Will you help me?” an’ she simply said, ”I will.”

We snuck up on ‘is ‘eadquarters. It ‘ad once been an ‘otel
But now resembled a fortress wiv sentries front an’ back as well.
So I ‘ands ‘er back ‘er frowin’ knife and I says, “Go kick some butt
Among th’ sentries at the front, but fer chrissakes don’ get caught.”

No sooner said than done. She scarpered. Then I ‘eard a yell
That ended in a gurgle – she’d sent one of ‘em to ‘ell.
An’ then I ‘eard another shout, followed by a crash,
An’ towards the front door I saw the rear guards dash.

That was my cue. I slipped up to the back door in me cape.
There was one guard left, an’ all ‘e saw was a vague dark menacing shape
An’ my throwin’ dagger flashin’ just before it hit ‘is throat,
An’ I pulled it out of ‘is poxy neck an’ wiped it on ‘is coat.

I slipped in through th’ unlocked door, and quietly up th’ stairs.
I knew what my target looked like – th’ bastard had no ‘air
On ‘is ‘ead, an’ just a thin little wispy beard an’ moustache
An’ a broken nose where some brave soul ‘ad given ‘im a bash.

It were dark as pitch in the ‘allway, an I slipped from door to door
Hidin’ in the shadows an’ treadin’ light upon the floor,
When close by I ‘eard a shout, an’ a door opened wide,
An’ the Great Khan stood blinkin’ in the dark, lookin’ from side to side.

‘E’d come from a room lit by a lamp, so I knew ‘e couldn’t see
Which was a bloomin’ mercy, ‘cos ‘e looked right across at me.
Then ‘e turned around an’ listened to the racket from outside
An’ I grabbed me dagger in both ‘ands, an took one soundless stride.

I ‘ad me dagger in both ‘ands, raised ‘igh as I could reach,
An’ I drove it down wiv all my strength at where ‘ead and neck did meet,
An’ I felt it drive through cartilage, through muscle an’ through bone,
An’ ‘e hit the floor wivvout a sound, an’ I knew my job was done.

I pulled me cape about me, and slipped down the front stairs
An’ out the front door safe an’ sound – there weren’t no live guards there.
My little mate ‘ad ‘ad a ball – there were five corpses in the yard.
No guards left for the Great Khan – an’ nothing left to guard.

I ‘oped against ‘ope she was still alive, as I crept away in the night,
But she jumped out in front of me, an’ gave me one ‘ell of a fright.
She was still as ‘igh as a kite, grinnin’ from ear to ear,
But I brought her dahn to earth when I hissed “We’ve gotta get out of here!”

She arst if I’d done it an’ I said yes, an’ pointed out as ‘ow
They were gonna find what we’d left behind in less than a minute from now,
An’ if we wanted to not get caught, an’ not tortured, an’ not die,
We ‘ad to be out of th’ camp before the hue an’ cry.

We ran fer th’ gate, an’ as luck would ‘ave it, a carter was just ‘eadin’ out,
So she snuck up behind ‘im an’ prodded ‘is back wiv ‘er knife, an’ said “Don’t shout,
Or make a fuss, or you’ll end up dead. I hope you heard me all right.”
‘E did. We climbed up on ‘is cart, an’ ‘e took us out into the night.

I still can’t believe ‘ow we got clean away. They ‘ad riders out in a twink,
But we forced the carter to ‘ide from the road, an’ the night was as black as ink.
An’ by mornin’ we’d reached a little town where we took some rooms an’ laid low,
An’ in three days the siege of Edessa was lifted – th’ Mongols ‘ad to go.

They were beat by an army one fifth of their strength – some said their venom was drawn
By ‘oever the clever bugger was that murdered the Great Khan.
An’ when I ‘eard that I looked at ‘er, an’ ‘er black eyes they did gleam,
An’ she spoke ter me ‘er first English sentence: “You and I, we make a great team.”

An’ that’s ‘ow she ended up coming wiv me all the way on the long trek home
Over the desert sands to the sea, an’ then through the waves an’ the foam,
Til we saw th’ white cliffs, an’ tied up at th’ docks, an’ sat down in me favourite bar,
An’ met Perkins an’ Quim, an’ we split the loot, an’ downed more than a few frothin’ jars.
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Re: The Assassin's Defence

Post by Alexios Komnenos on 2008-06-23, 05:18

Nice.
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Re: The Assassin's Defence

Post by The Weaver on 2008-07-22, 23:44

And finally *drum roll and fanfare* the last canto:

Canto the Fifth
“You and I,” she’d said, “we make a great team,” an’ that’s how it’s been ever since.
Our results they spoke for themselves – we didn’t ‘ave to convince
Anyone that we should work as a pair – we was deadly, I don’t tell no lie
An’ ten years of murder an’ mayhem went past in the blink of an eye.

But just when we was in our prime, a near disaster struck.
Now Quim an’ Perkins insists ter this day that it were just rotten luck,
But I don’t agree – I never ‘eld wiv the job that I ‘ad ter do,
I’d never accepted a contract on women - or on children too.

But this was diff’rent, they told me – this princess ‘ad ter go,
She knew too much, she’d seen too much – of what, I didn’t know,
Two blokes ‘ad ‘ad a crack at ‘er, an’ both ‘ad ended up dead,
An’ Quim made us an offer we couldn’t refuse. “It’s up to you two,” ‘e said.

When we refused ‘e threatened us wiv expulsion from the guild,
An’ pointed out as ‘ow on our own we could end up gettin’ killed.
To be fair to Quim, ‘e was paying well too, not that we weren’t flush.
Death is a great way to pay the bills, an’ we’d saved a wodge of cash.

So we grumbled a lot, but we took the job, and tracked our target down
To a castle wiv a sodding great moat a ways norf of Dublin town.
Me mate pretended ter be a boy, a-fishin’ in the ditch
While I pretended ter be a guard, an’ got in wivvout a hitch.

The plan was, when I’d done th’ deed, I’d wave from th’ top of a wall,
An’ she’d throw up her fishin’ line, an’ on it I would haul
An’ pull up a handy knotted rope, an’ slither dahn it as quick as you like,
An’ then the pair of us would take a pretty rapid hike.

But on th’ way to the princess’ room, fings started to come apart.
I over’eard some servants chat that nearly broke me ‘eart:
Th’ princess was only seventeen – for chrissakes, just a kid.
An’ I was supposed to cut ‘er throat – well, I damn near flipped me lid.

Th’ next fing that went wrong was simple: I couldn’t find ‘er room
Cos th’ ‘allway was appallingly lit an’ I couldn’t see in th’ gloom.
So I tried a few doors, careful-like, but still must’ve made a sound.
For just when I’d slipped through ‘er door I ‘eard th’ guards a-coming around.

I tol’ Quim I ‘ad no time fer the job, but that was just a lie,
Cos I saw ‘er there in a window chair, wiv terror in ‘er eyes.
She’d seen my blade a flashin’, she’d ‘eard th’ guards outside,
It would’ve been th’ work of a second ter slash ‘er throat open wide.

But I didn’t. I sheathed my blade, an’ said, “Get outta my way!”
An’ I leaped clear through th’ window, into the bright light o’ day.
Out on the wall there were sentries galore, an’ th’ only way out was down,
So I jumped five stories inter the moat, prayin’ I wouldn’t drown.

Th’ fall knocked me out, but me quick little mate hauled me to safer shores
An’ while the guards was trippin’ over their spears, she slung me onto a horse,
An’ we rode away like seven devils was chasing us out of ‘ell
Wiv no ‘arm done to anyone – ‘cept, of course, meself.

I’d busted a leg an’ an arm – they mended, but after that
I couldn’t shift meself quick enough, so I ‘ad to ‘ang up me ‘at.
So since then we’ve been spendin’ our time wiv Perkins at th’ Guild,
Instructing young assassins in the art of not gettin’ killed.

An’ so my story’s come to an end, as I will too some day,
But when I get to th’ pearly gates, I know wot I’m gonna say,
When St Peter ‘e says to me, “You killed a shedload of folk.”
I’ll look th’ ol’ geezer in th’ eye an’ say: “You got th’ wrong bloke.”

“If I was a bleedin’ crusader, would you give ‘im a ‘ard time?
If killin’s ok if it’s done in th’ field, why’s wot I did a crime?
I killed fer anointed kings, an’ at least once, fer th’ pope.
It says in th’ book Thou shalt not kill but that’s a load of ol’ rope.

“The truth is, Peter me ol’ mate, you ‘as to kill ter get by
If you’re a big wheel in this Vale of Tears – otherwise, you’ll die.
An’ I’ve killed good men, an’ I’ve killed bad men, an’ men that was in th’ way,
But I never killed for the hell of it – I only killed fer pay.

“An’ one last fing, St Peter, from a sinner wot doesn’t repent,
When it came dahn to it I drew the line at killing an innocent.
So tell ol’ nick to stoke up ‘is fires, an’ send me on my way,
But that’s gotta be worth sumfing, when it comes to judgement day.”

An’ now I better scarper. ‘Er indoors is expectin’ me ‘ome.
We’ve got fresh bread an’ cheese fer supper, an’ ‘ot ‘am off th’ bone.
I’m a law abidin’ soul now, so I’ll just ‘ave one last beer,
An’ then I better get my sad an’ sorry ol’ arse out of ‘ere.
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Re: The Assassin's Defence

Post by Alexios Komnenos on 2008-07-23, 05:22

Excellent finish!
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Re: The Assassin's Defence

Post by Seleukos of Olympia on 2008-07-23, 07:43

Magnificent! Very Happy

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Re: The Assassin's Defence

Post by Kasey on 2008-07-23, 10:20

salute salute salute salute salute salute salute salute

salute salute salute salute salute salute salute salute

Superb!
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Re: The Assassin's Defence

Post by The Weaver on 2008-07-23, 21:44

Thanks guys. Did you notice the nod to defenestration in the assassin's escape?


Last edited by The Weaver on 2008-07-23, 21:53; edited 1 time in total (Reason for editing : correcting spelling)
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Re: The Assassin's Defence

Post by Seleukos of Olympia on 2008-07-24, 05:00

I did indeed! Self defenestration is tricky art to master. Very Happy

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Re: The Assassin's Defence

Post by sipahioftheporte on 2008-07-25, 17:44

Weaver that was truely astonishing Smile I enjoyed the whole read... marvelous!

I hope you keep up your work... damn you can write a book with 10-15 of these... "weaving stories" Razz
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