The wind is blowing through the streets, a fairly strong gust of wind. It blows my hair to one side, and you see the evil gleam in my eyes. Slowly, I raise my sword, my cape dancing to the wind...
...Like a beautiful gypsy at an annual carnival. The next few seconds is but a blur-- the gleam of my blade in the moonlight, a soft swish of the sword as I pass you, blood dripping from the sword...
The wind has stopped and the cape falls softly to my back, resting like a delicate lady upon her lover's chest. I sheath my sword, a sneer appearing across my face. Haste********* Swordsmanship****
