Shepards and Dead Sheep The knife slid neatly between his ribs, stopping his heart, and staining his expensive robes with his blood. A gurgle escaped the dead man's throat as the knife was pulled from his body. He was pushed over the balcony, and his body made a wet crunch as it hit the marble floor below. His killer turned around and walked swiftly in the opposite direction, slipping the knife under the folds of his billowing black cloak. The black clad man walked through an archway, and took a left down the stairs, making for the exit. A scream tore through the building as one of the servants found the body. Two guards clad in shiny scale armor ran past, oblivious that the murderer lay in front of them.
The man smiled to himself, "So fast asleep these men are." he thought.
"They are like sheep, following, always following, never stopping to contemplate the precipice that they stand upon. So sad..."
He smiled. It felt good to know he was more then an aimless part of the crowd.
The man clad in black strode through the foyer, and out the gate. He mingled with the crowd that lay outside in the market square, making for the tavern, his work was done.
