Esbarsan
Ah, hello there. My name Is Esbarsan and I am dead. What, you don’t believe me? Well, let me tell you a short story, and maybe you’ll change your mind on that.
One year ago, I was in an elite group of assassins working under the control of neither the E.N. or the A.W. We were a privately owned organization, if you will; however, just because we weren’t owned didn’t mean we forgot about the war! Both sides hired us, multiple times. Over time, we all got our own ideas and philosophies on the world consuming war. Some of my teammates resigned from the guild; some went AWOL. Some of my cell turned on itself, beating and even killing each other. I was a fence-rider on the whole topic, therefore I was victim of many attacks. Not once was I hurt. I either knocked my crazed friends out, or even using lethal force. I remember one time, specifically. My friend, Thurganson Whitebell , was talking to me when all of a sudden an ice shard shot through his heart. Another cell member grabbed me from behind. I could see another shard coming, so I broke free and used the grabbling attacker as a shield. After he was exposed, I took out my axe and dug it into the skull of the mage. After that, I left the cell without telling anyone. Soon after, maybe two days, the cell master sent his whelps after me. Forgetting I was one of the quickest and fastest moving assassins I dispatched of them quickly. To get to the point, I was not struck down by a cell/guild member. No, my fate came to me in a heated fight in a bar. I was sitting in the corner smoking my father’s cherished corncob pipe when two drunkards drew weapons. I put my pipe away and went over to break it up, but they wouldn’t listen to a scrawny shadow lurker. I began to walk away when I got a stiff tankard in the back of my skull. I was a little dazed, but my instinct said to turn around and slaughter the two men. That is exactly what I did. I took out the first man by digging my axe’s blade into his throat. The second man went to attack me, and I used his fighting buddy against him. I drew the dead man’s sword and dug it deep in the other man’s heart. He stumbled back and then I took his head off with my axe. The whole pub was looking at me in disbelief. I quickly left the area, but as I was on the road a buff man approached me and asked for my credentials. As I began to tell him, he laughed and grabbed me by the throat. I couldn’t counter his grapple, as he was much too strong for me. He said some words unknown to me and then burned out my eyes, killing me instantly… or so I thought.
When I awoke, my head hurt so much. I stumbled back to the pub looking for help, but when I arrived there were military officials investigating my crime. I was recognized as the man, and as they stood up they caught a glance of my face. In terror, the two men shrank back to the ground and scurried away. I didn’t understand the severity of my situation until I touched the man with his head. He rose from the ground, coughing and wheezing. His eyes burned red, and smelled like death. After one look at me, he started killing everyone in the pub and re-animating them. I ran as fast as I could, picking up some items along the way, like my signature hat on the road where my body had lay. I also found a mask to cover up the abomination of my face. I have been wondering since, working as a freelance assassin. The A.W. got in contact with me, with a permanent job which I have now accepted.
So you see, I am not a liar. Who says all undead harlequin assassins are bad?