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The assassin of Ixtlazpali

We're Getting Mutants in the MCU - The Loop

01:36

The assassin of Ixtlazpali

Author: Ripadrak
Rating: Moderate
Status: Complete

DISCLAIMER: This story contains some violence and graphic imagery, and may not be suited to some people. I would give it a moderate rating.

This story is part of the Chronicles of Sekai, a high fantasy universe and story collection that I have been writing for that last 5 years. This is the first story I have decided to upload, but I will be uploading the longer stories at some point in the future. This is a short story, designed to enhance some of the background of the chronicles of Sekai, and is not meant to be a fully fledged story.

With that out of the way, here is the story:

Business was never usually incredible at this time of night, hell, his shop shouldn’t even be open. It’s past nine at night, but something told the shopkeeper that he should stay open longer tonight. Ardal was the owner of a potion shop, on the outskirts of Coniglithron. He sold everything from healing potions, to a small selection of poisons, as well as various herbs and spices.

Ardal stood, slumped over his desk, twirling a coin through his fingers with the expertise only a veteran shopkeeper would have. Suddenly, the door creaked open, and a man in a long black cloak draped through the door. Before Ardal could even welcome the man, he uttered; What do you have in the way of poisons?

A simple question, but Ardal was taken aback by this abrupt question.

“Well, uh. As you can imagine, we cannot have them on show, but I do have these.” Ardal lifted a small lockbox from beneath his desk, and opened it, revealing a selection of eight phials of what the man could only assume were poisons.

“Which one would you say is the most potent?” The man queried, not a hint of nervousness, or even concern over asking such a suspicious question.

“Well, I would say this one.” Ardal pulled one of the phials from the box. The phial was filled with a dark purple, almost black liquid that has a strange, weak glow to it. “This is venom extracted straight from the jaw of a Heten mountain-wyrm, one of the most venomous creatures on the planet.”

“That sounds like it could be what I’m looking for. Mountain-wyrm venom is famous for its quick, yet agonising death, no?” He asked another question that made Ardal suspicious, but he didn’t want to chase away the first customer he’d had in days.

“That’d be right. You should know, this venom was incredibly hard to come by, so I won’t be selling it to you cheap.” Ardal said, a hint if masculinity in his voice, as he tried to be slightly forceful, but not enough to chase away his customer. “It’ll put you back around 60 gold coins, but I am open to bartering.”


“Oh I wouldn’t worry about any monetary compensation. What I shall do with this venom will be enough.”

“Wait, wha…” Ardal begun to say, before the man suddenly leapt over the counter and plunged a dagger into the shopkeeper.

“My name is Tlamaztil, I am here to assassinate the king of Imperialov; Bogatyye will fall on this night, and your people will thank me for this service.” He pulled his dagger from Ardal, before taking the phial from the counter. He pulled the cork out with a pop, before pouring a single drop into Ardal’s wound.

He began to writhe and try to scream, as his throat filled with foam, before he fell dead.

“Wow, just three seconds? Even better than I thought.”

Tlamaztil then walked from the shop, climbed on top of his Slitherfoot, and left as if nothing happened. He rode atop his Slitherfoot, until he reached the main fortress of Coniglithron. Tlamaztil stepped from his mount and walked up to the fortress wall, scanning for an entrance, until he spotted a sewage outflow grate. He slid underneath the grate and crawled through the damp passage, until he stopped underneath a floor grate.

“Oh Lord Serpentium, lend me your strength.” He whispered his prare into his sword, as the sword began to flitter with green particles. Tlamaztil then gently placed his blade on the grate, before slowly sawing into it. The magical enchantment seared through the metal like a knife through bread. After slowly cutting for quite some time, Tlamaztil gently lifted the grate and placed it next to the hole, before slowly climbing into the castle.


He twitched his reptilian head as he listened for footsteps, before quickly climbing up the wall as a guard walked around the corner. Tlamaztil took a rope from his belt, and fashioned it into a makeshift noose, before slowly dropping it down. The rope abruptly wrapped around the now confused guard, before violently being thrust upwards. The assassin then tied the rope to the roof rampart he was now stood on, leaving the guard to hang in the roof.

“May Lord Serpentium forgive your transgressions against my people.”

He then climbed back down the wall and crept off into the dark corridors of the castle. Tlamaztil came across a pair of guards, whom he quickly dispatched with a dagger to eaches back. He sprinted further into the castle, his tongue flickering as he tried to find a scent he could follow. Sniff sniff. There! He thought to himself as he caught the scent of a full roast boar.

The king must have eaten a large royal feast and then retired early, but still stinks of his supper. Tlamaztil now ran as quickly and quietly as he could, killing any and all guards he found, before he finally reached a large wooden door. This must be it, but how to get in?

He looked around, before his eyes locked on a window to his right. Tlamaztil climbed out of the window, sticking to the wall and moving in the direction of the room. His guess was correct, a window into the kings quarters was not far, and, to make things better, his window was open.

Tlamaztil clambered through the kings open window, to find him slumbering, snoring loudly as he lay, covered in grease and pieces of meat. What a sorry sight for a king.

He crept across the kings room, arriving by the side of his bed, he took the poison phial from his bag and pulled to top off slowly, trying not to create any noise. He gently poured the poison over his blade, before violently plunging it into the kings stomach.

King Bogatyye’s eyes shot open, as the poison coursed through his body. He couldn’t even make a sound, as his mouth lay wide open, foam frothing from his throat and all over his cheeks, before he stopped. The king was dead.

BACKGROUND LORE:

This story takes place in the country of Imperialov, the largest country in the continent of Ginyla {G-in-eye-l-ah}, and on the planet Sekai [Se-k-eye}. It is home to a race of lightly furred humanoids, known as the Vysshly {Vi-s-sh-l-ee}. The Vysshly are an incredibly xenophobic race, which was caused by manipulation from a higher power in ages past. This xenophobia has led to the Vysshly constantly bullying the other races of Ginyla, particularly the Lizardmen of Ixtlazpali, due to them being the most drastically different to the Vysshly.

This constant raiding has led to the Lizardmen sending a variety of assassins and agents into Imperialov, in an effort to destabilize the nation, and bring its downfall as vengeance for their transgressions against lizard-kind.

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