With the Hashashin [Training/Plot]

Casrare had begun to understand the art of death as he learned not just to understand himself but to erase himself as well. He had been changed since his mission at the monastery. Fate had set him upon an awful path, one against the world on the side of darkness, Maybe that was the true fate for his rukh, the path that he was meant to take. He wasn't sure, he had grown to abhor the concept. He didn't stand with fate, he would have people break free of it to live their truest desire. The people needed to breathe, to live to be happy, to sin. He had planned to help liberate people's bodies along with their souls.

He would sign to himself, he was glad to be free but he wasn't glad for him and Khemut to be venturing by foot all the way from the desert of forgotten souls to the rocky cliffs and plains of Parthevia. The nation no longer existed as its' former self but it was around in the form of its' culture, its' people, and in the remanents of the Hashashin. Khem had told Casrare about them before, they degraded over the past decades. On large while they were once trained killing machines they had turned into nothing now but intoxicated goons. He wasn't sure how much of it was true, and how much of it was spite but either way it was their job to whip them back into shape.

The walk would last days, even weeks, and during that time Casrare dedicated his time to training. He focused on his own arm, learning how to attack his how joints. Which were the weakest points for entry, how he could bend or break the body to get the most reaction out of it. It wasn't pleasant by any means but that's what this work did. In order to become trained in pain, in agony he had to be able to understand it more than just the nightmare he's witnessed. The most dangerous thing he would put himself through was the poisons. They were hard to work with, and often it was easy for them to enter the porous parts of the body. It would seep in, sending a shock through his body if he was lucky. Twice during their journey, he had accidentally poisoned himself to the point of intense vomiting.

Despite the hardship, h continued on with his training. His favorite weapon would always be his body but there were more subtle methods. If he wanted to become the shadow, the kind voice hiding in the dark, he would need to absorb every method that he could. While Cas would find new ways to push himself Khemut would act a good master and try to test his reflexes with the occasional sneak attack. With all those factors in mind, it definitely made for quite an enjoyable trip.

The heat wasn't kind on his sickly skin, the sasanid would find that about everything they would experience on the way to the mountain stronghold was just another challenge. He was lucky enough that his need for food was longer the same as it used to be. Sure he definitely enjoyed the taste, the experience for sure but now as a walking source of disease, he didn't have many nutritional needs for it.

"Hallelujah!" Casrare would shout, while he couldn't say for certain it seemed as if they had arrived at their destination after 6 weeks of travel. Even at this point, Khemut was happy to arrive, he would watch his pupil rush up the sides of the mountain's great stairs. over 1000 steps to the top. Each one was painted red, not from dye but from those who had perished storming the top. According to the stories from Khem they had once been charged by a Reiman legion, doing their all to keep their stronghold safe they slaughtered the troops with no mercy, dumping spikes, boulders, and all sorts of things down upon them.

While he wasn't expecting much, he was still sad to see how correct Khemut was about his remaining members. Khem would follow up to him as they stared at what appeared to be a trio of Hashashin. The three barely noticed when they had walked into the room, smoke had permeated a thick cloud around, dancing amonsgt the light that peaked through sun windows in the ceiling. They sat upon an ancient rug, which seemed to be all that was left of the place's glory as the fireplace was collapsed and furniture was unused, made of rotten wood.

"Well it seems like we have some work cut out for us, so if I do well at this does that mean I become a master?" Casrare would joke.

"Slow your horses" Khem would joke back "I"m not sure you wanna rest your promotions on their efforts, but in seriousness, if you can prove yourself you'll become a proper master. You'll be training them alongside me but there will be just a bit till then. The real thing is getting things back up and running, we'll need a proper grandmaster to run the stronghold altogether. If all goes well, we'll be able to get another stronghold and you'll be able to become a grandmaster."

"Well, either way, we got some work to do" he would say, turning to the three "If you're gonna smoke yourselves out then you better start hiding amongst it, lets see if you can vanish otherwise I'll getcha.

"You can't make us do anything" one of them would say smartly. Before another one could be a snarky reply Casrare rushed towards the cocky assassin and would smack him firmly across the face. He would chase the rest of them out as well. It was a game of hide and seek with a bit of punishment game. He would have his fun if he had to help with them into shape, the first week alone he would spend doing this. He would also learn a bit about each of them, about how they ended up here by their bloodlines. Their families gave no status or protection from when times got hard. They were nothing more than acolytes crashing at their abandoned training facility.

By helping them he would learn more about himself, but there was more to be done if he was to be a master.


Assassin Training C to B: 1000/1000+