03-23-2010, 07:07 PM
For as long as Ercole de Rambaudi could recall, he had been trained in the art of hunting and killing. Not in the terms of animals, (though hunting those always kept his skills fresh) but in that of humans, mankind. His tall, thin form was reminescent of young squires, but the hidden muscle was much more that of a tempered metalsmith. He always kept his curly black hair in a small ponytail at the nape of his neck, and his eyes managed to be hidden underneath the mess of bangs.
Tonight, however, the young heir to the Rambaudi was not dressed in his usual garb of pants and a flowy long sleeved shirt tied around his wrists. Tonight he was garbed in all blac, his hair and face covered by a black shawl he stole from his mother's dresser.
Taking a deep breath, Ercole fingered all of his weapons hidden carefully in his outfit before making his way to the targets household. Maybe if he was lucky, he could kill the daughter in her sleep. He'd rather not deal with screaming females tonight.
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