Okay, here's my example:

He had been trained since birth to be a god with mortal skin and bones. For he, just like the gods who oversaw all, held sway over life and death. Who would live, who would die... The who and the names and the lives attached meant nothing to him. All that mattered was that he carried out his job to the letter, no messy ends, all loose strings tied up with his blood-stained hands. So that he could obtain his name in material form and then vanish into shadows.

Kin. A hired killer's name. Not the man's true one, given by his mother at birth. He forgot his birth-given name most of the time. He was only Kin; a slayer for hire, a human who decided fate, a man out for gold.

An assassin.

Now, crouched on a thick branch of the tree that grew on the outskirts of a particular noble's land, he had another job to carry out. Kidnap the daughter of the noble for whatever petty political reason. Turn her over to his employers of the moment, collect his payment. Disappear, like always, until he was next called on.

Surveying the land, Kin observed that there was nobody about; none of the noble's family, no servants, no visitors. It was three hours past nightfall, and the house was sure to be asleep. The perfect time to clap a cloth doused with sleeping potion over the nose of the daughter, condemn her to an even deeper sleep until she woke in a strange place as a political pawn.

Kin dropped easily from the tree branch and began to make his way stealthily across the noble's land towards his house. He knew the lay of the place, having researched it thoroughly before choosing tonight to carry out the job. He knew where he could hide, where the best escape routes were should something go wrong. He knew where the noble's daughter slept.

***

We good? 8D