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Alex, an Assassin had searched for weeks to find the Tyrant that he was sent to kill. Although he wasn't told his name he was given a pretty good description of what this man looked like, though he wasn't too sure about this it was the only job he was good at. He knew these lands well and could blend into the background seemlessly, though not the strongest of young men he was the fastest. Often using his speed to his advantage in battle should it ever come down to that, usually he was silently dispose of his targets but sometimes that was easier said than done.

He was confident, a little too confident perhaps as he had heard of the Tyrant before. Such a figure had often been his favorite jobs as he favored justice. His slender, pale skinned 5'10 frame waited in the shadows. His hair was a crimson red and shorter to the back, long in the front, the bangs hung in his blood red eyes. He wore a black, sleeveless, shirt. Black leather figerless gloves. Black pants, a little baggy. He had a leather belt, and leather gloves that reached his elbows, and carried a shortsword. he also had a pack, and a black cloak.

It was then he saw his target and decided to watch a little longer, analizing the scene first. This was often his best quality, it would ensure success in missions. When the targets back was turned he struck, using his quickness to come up behind the man as he tried to strike a blow with his sword. But he felt himself being launched backwards and slamming the ground.

"Finally a challenge" He growled, picking himself back up and heading for the man again. Little did he know this was a battle he just might lose, though he was sure he would win. It was a given that the heroes always won right?