Uncrowned gathered before the council of the men who were allowed to wear hats.
Many a year ago, he was inducted into this secret society. A group of the elite who donned all varieties of exquisite fashion atop their skulls. It was a tradition and honor he was never afforded due to his low-rank within the group's hierarchy - something he planned on changing, tonight.
The Assassination of the King was a mission that few Hatless Grunts were ever given a chance at attempting. Only the most skilled of the future Hat Wearers would be granted the opportunity to commit regicide.
Uncrowned said, kneeling before the group of hooded men. Yet another item of clothing he could not wear. Indeed. anything that covered the shaggy mess of hair atop his head was not something he was permitted.
'Uncrowned. You may stand.'
a voice said, ethereal in the way it echoed across the room, as if it was a message ricocheting between his brain. The uncoordinated Uncrowned bounded to his feet, eager to serve. He dusted off his tattered robes, eyes in awe as he stood, surrounded by the Hat-Wearing men he had only heard whispers of in the past.
'Tonight is your chance. You will be our righteous blade. There is a King in the Mafia Scum Palace. It will be your job to bring a swift end to him.'
Pride swelled up in the young Scumcrowned, along with tears which blurred his visions.
'Are... are you sure? There are men... hat wearing men, who are far more worthy of such an honor, my lords...'
'No. We know how much you desire to be one of us. Strike true and hard. Bring the Kingdom to its knees. Rip the crown off forcefully... and you will be allowed to wear it as your own.'
Uncrowned stood speechless, only capable of offering a small yet determined nod in response.
The drink was running freely through the Palace as a feast was upon the Mafia Scum community! Hundreds were in attendance. At the head table, Pooky, ManWithNoName and Hectic all sat, chatting amongst one another. While it was well known within the grounds that one of these fine specimens called the shots, there was never any confirmation on who it really was. Today, that would change.
Uncrowned, disguised in the outfit of a court jester, sauntered up to them, lute in his hand. He graced them with a smile.
A nod of agreement went between them, but before he started playing...
Screams of terror filled the hall. Blood splattered the table, as well as the other two who were not victim to the flintlock pistol which Uncrowned had retrieved from underneath his coat, smoke rising from it and disappearing into the void, just as the soul of his poor victim would.
Kill: Pooky