Torak studied the landscape of Arca. The beautiful, magic inspired architecture of the buildings. The churches, the castle, everything looked so beautiful. And so petty.
It meant nothing. Just someone's thoughts converted to bricks, stones and mortar. No real meaning. Not like you had actually destroyed your own soul to put it into art. That was why killing was an art, a practice, because killing, you can tear your soul apart doing it, but that's what makes it beautiful, because it means that you can put a piece of your soul into doing it, literally.
But, the life of an assassin was behind him. He was a Soot Wolf now. He didn't need the life of an assassin anymore. He could keep the skills. But he wasn't a contract killer anymore. He was a Shadow Wolf. His job was to listen and watch now. He was the listener in the shadows. The eyes in the fog.
He was a Shadow Wolf.
He stood on the roof, feeling proud of himself for once. He was useful to someone, he was an effective and efficient tool for his masters.
He ran across the roof, using his agility and teleporting ability to traverse the rooftops at blinding speed.
He finally stopped after 9 teleports, and landing off the rooftop in an alley.
He saw what he thought was a potential client. A noblewoman, average appearance, frail. He changed his appearance somewhat, trying to avoid looking like a Soot Wolf, and pushed on her shoulder,spinning her around to face him.
"Money, now."