John, the early years.
He grew up on the streets of Berck, no name, no identity, as part of the assassins guild. He never knew his mother or father. They were never talked about around him, but he overheard rumors anyway. His mother had supposedly been a member of the guild, and left him there after he was born. Speculation was that she got knocked up while seducing someone to get close to her target. For all he knows, his father probably was the target. Not that his mother would have cared, even if she’d known that she was killing the father of her unborn child. She didn’t want the kid, and killing the man, it was just a job.
That was something he heard a lot growing up, “it’s just a job.” I was and errand boy, a gofer. The assassins guild was well organized, but had no guild hall so to speak of. The members mostly worked independently. They kept in touch via a secret postal system of sorts, dropping off notes and packages in secret locations. It was in one of these secret dead drops that he was found as a baby. The guild had no specific rules about killing women or children, but only the most cold and heartless would leave a baby to die.
So he was raised by a young man by the name of Darell. He was never given a proper name, John just called him Boy. By the age of 5, he was already being put to work. He made the perfect currier and “spy”. Nobody paid attention to a dirty street urchin, which worked out great for him. He could go places unnoticed, see thing, hear things. Nobody paid attention to a dirty street urchin. However, as he got older, and became a teenager, he was no longer as useful to the man, and was soon out on his own.
He kept working for a currier for the guild. He was quiet, kept to himself, and knew his way around the city. Due to his quiet nature, most people thought he was thick, but far from it. Despite having no formal education, he was very intelligent. He listened, watched, and learned. He particularly enjoyed watching people. He was very interested in their stories, who they were, where they came from, and what they were like. And people loved telling their stories, especially when they were drunk.
Having no identity or story of his own, he found it very easy to become other people, to tell their stories as his own. It was even kinda fun. One night he’d go to a bar and just watch, and listen. The next, he’d go to a different bar, and be the person he’d watched the night before. He’d mimic their speech, their mannerisms, and their personality. The only thing he wouldn’t mimic was their drinking.
It always amazed him the things people would say when they got drunk enough. He wouldn’t even have to ask. All he had to do was pay attention to them, listen do their stories, and pretend to drink along with them. And eventually they’d be spilling their secrets, along with the secrets they knew about other people.
Around the age of 20 or so (he never really knew how old he was exactly), now a young man, he started to get restless. He wanted more than to just street trash. He was tired of being called Boy… He knew he deserved better. He wanted to be part of the guild. But it wasn’t an easy guild to join, especially if they thought you were thick. He soon got his chance though.
The young man heard through the guild grape vine, that Darell had betrayed the guild. After messing up on a job to kill a local noble, he’d been caught and tortured. While being tortured, he committed the ultimate betrayal against the guild: he revealed who it was that had hired him. Rather than kill Darell himself, the nobel thought it would be funnier to let him go, but let it be known that he’d talked. Needless to say he wasn’t safe on the streets. Within hours of him getting released, a price had already been put out on Darell’s head.
Everyone was talking about it, so it wasn’t hard to figure out who the job had been given to, a guy the young man had never met named John. John was fairly new and still earning his place, but he’d shown skill and promise, so as a final test, he was given the task of killing Darell.
The young man followed John, keeping to the shadows and remaining unseen. He wasn’t sure why, or what he was gonna do, but he felt it was the right thing to do. As he followed John, he studied him. The thing that struck the young man the most about John, was how similar they looked. John seemed to be a little bit older, but other than that, the resemblance was uncanny.
John tracked Darell to the river side district, and caught up with him (the young man in tow) in a dark alley by one of the town gates. Darell had almost made it. The sun had long since gone down, and the docks were empty for the night, the workers having already gone home, or more likely to the bars. There was just the three of them.
The young man watched from the shadows as the two exchanged words, and then fought. It was a close fight. John was youthful, energetic, and eager to prove himself. But in the end it was his over eagerness that got the best of him. The young man watched as time and again John would attack too quickly, and leave his guard down. Darells superior skill won out, just barely, and he was able to kill John.
The young man stepped out of his shadows. Darell raised his weapon, expecting another attacker. When he saw who it was though, he let out a sigh of relief. “Oh good, it’s just you. Help me throw the body in the river and cover up what happened here. I’m sure somebody heard us, and the town guard are probably on their way. I already have enough to deal with without them following me as well.”
As the young man walked over to the body of the dead killer, his mind was quickly thinking, planning, crossing all the Ts and dotting all the Is. Darell turned his back on the young man and walked to the end of the alley and poked his head out for a quick look to see if the guard was in sight yet. “Quickly Boy, I don’t see anyone yet, but I doubt we have much time.” He turned back into the alley just in time for the young man to plung the dead assassins blade into his gut.
As Darell fell to the ground, bleeding to death and gasping his last breath, he managed to ask in a strangled voice, “But… why…”
“My name is not Boy,” he said, taking on the voice of the failed assassin behind him. “It’s John.”
His new identity as a recent member to the guild of assassins secured, John proceeded to dump the bodies in to the river before the guard got there. He felt a tiny twinge of guilt as Darell’s body plunged into the cold dark water of the Rohannor River. But it quickly left. After all, why should he feel bad, it was just a job.