Crimson -- Chapter 5

Whistling a tune, the Celeanni blacksmith pounded away at another of his masterpieces. Sweat drenched his body, making his muscles gleam in the sunlight as he pushed himself to his limits to continue his project. It was all an average day’s work for Tenaz. That was, of course, until several strangers began to approach his forge.

“Are you Tenaz the blacksmith?” one of the Celeanni that approached him asked. He appeared to be old and had a vicious look about him, as if he had dark and frightening plans. It didn’t help that he was accompanied by two massive brutes.

“Who’s asking?” Tenaz asked, setting the unfinished blade he was working on down.

“The name’s Andras. You’re the father of that assassin that calls himself Crimson, correct?” the old man asked whilst continuing to approach Tenaz.

The blacksmith gripped his work hammer and continued his work, grabbing his tongs from the fire and making a move to get the blade he was working on with them. In reality, he merely grabbed the tongs as an extra layer of protection, because he knew that the men approaching meant only harm when they asked that question.

“Who’s this Crimson you speak of?” the blacksmith asked whilst working away on his blade.

“Oh I think you know him,” Andras said as he walked around Tenaz’s workplace, getting beside him. “I’ve had him followed for some time, just incase he gets hired to end me. I know you two are related, although I’m still not sure of his name, so maybe you could tell me,” the man said with a grin.

Tenaz glared at Andras before thrusting the tongs he had just picked up into one of the brutes. The man screamed in agony as his skin sizzled, and the stench of burnt flesh filled the air.

Tearing the tongs from the brute’s chest, he bashed his skull in with the hammer before attacking the other one of Andras’ guards.The brute he was attacking now had a mace out, and slammed it into Tenaz’s left hand, shattering the bones in it.

Letting out a shout of pain, Tenaz dropped the hammer that was in his hand before slashing the thug  across his chest with the tongs, which were still beyond hot to the touch.

The brute let out a surprising howl, going to hit Tenaz with his mace before getting stabbed in the chest and falling back, his mace clattering to the ground.

Starting to turn, Tenaz suddenly felt a stinging pain in his chest. Coughing, he noticed blood pouring from his mouth as he looked down. Andras had stabbed him through the chest with a blade, which was stained crimson with the blood of Tenaz.

"Now, where did you learn to fight like that?" Andras asked Tenaz before placing his foot upon the back of Crimson's father and kicking him to the ground, pulling his blade out of the man's chest as he did so.

Tenaz went to respond, but all that came from his mouth were gargled groans as he soon died, choking to death on his own blood.

Andras proceeded to drag the body into the blacksmith's house before proceeding to carve up Tenaz's corpse, leaving a gruesome display of blood and gore that Crimson would soon return to.

"Well I didn't learn anything, but this should be enough to ruin that damn assassin, assuming he makes it back alive," Andras said to himself, smiling wickedly whilst leaving the home of Tenaz with blood staining his clothes.

- - - - -

“I wonder what weapon he’s working on today,” Crimson said to himself as he walked along, referring to his father.

He quickly dismissed the thought, as he knew the old Celeanni was probably doing nothing more than whistling a tune while working away as he always did. Hopefully he wouldn’t be too busy with work when Crimson got back, because the assassin would need his gear repaired and his spear sharpened when he returned.

Shivering a bit, Crimson’s mask felt like a block of ice on his face. He was nearing the place he was looking for, but he wasn’t sure he’d survive much longer in that bitter cold. However, if he were lucky, there’d probably be a pot filled with hot stew for him to eat after he killed his target.

And, knowing that, it was enough to keep him going on through the cold as his hands and feet continued to get number by the minute.

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