Bar FightA smash tore Atre from his sleep, his hand instinctively reched for the knife in his belt, it wasn't there. Then he remembered he'd taken his belt off and hung it next to the bed. "More bar fights", He said to himself. He got up, and reached for the diamond studded leather. The silver knife was slotted neatly into it's sheath, it's jeweld pommel sticking out from the belt. Atre placed the leather satchel on the bed, and removed his greaves and bracers. He put them on, enjoying the feeling of cold leather on his limbs, and strapped his belt around his waist. He slid the knife out of it's sheath, and examining it for damage. The knife's 20 centimeter curved blade was still brand new, he had bit yet used it. He walked over to the window, a bucket lay next to it. He cleaned his face in the bucket. He walked to the other side of his small room, on the wall was a peg, from which hung a large black cloak. He slipped it on, putting the hood over his eyes, opened the door and left.
He'd be meeting with El Mentare, to learn more of the sacred arts, or as more commonly known: how to kill someone without being seen, and more delightful things. Soon he would become a fully fledged assassin, and recieve a soul dagger, which would be bound to him till he died. The dagger he possessed had been his late brother's, who had been killed right after his initiation by a mob that had rioted in the streets outside the Assassins Guild, during the November Riots.
