Old Brakath in the Age of Assassin, there are many taverns where mercenaries go to find bounties. Mostly are put out by the kingdom's soldier when they don't have enough men to send out or just too lazy to hunt themselves. However, there is a well-known tavern among the assassins where anyone can put a bounty on any person, not just criminals, as long as payments are presented. The employer is anonymous and the assassin who take it, similarly so. So whenever you see your own face on that poster, you'll never know who put it up there, nor will you know who's coming after you. The establishment forbids people from taking out a poster except for kill reports. If anyone were to break this rule, their name will be the new bounty instead. Though even if it doesn't, you'll likely be targeted by most assassins anyway if not all of them that frequents the premise. Never get between an assassin and their livelihood. Blade Incognito.
Blade Incognito Chapter 2 test
The dirt road trembled under the first light of dawn, but it wasn't the uneven stones that made her knees shake. Mariam tightened her grip on the small satchel of coins, each one a lifeline pooled from every villager back home. Their faces flashed before her eyes—the women who whispered prayers for her courage, the men who feared the tax collector's whip, the children who peeked from behind doors, hoping she could bring justice where none else dared.
And now she had to walk through that door.
The tavern loomed ahead, a squat building of dark wood and stone, smoke curling from the chimney like a warning. From the street, the muffled shouts and clinks of mugs told her that the world inside was nothing like her village. She could imagine the bodies moving in the shadows, the faces lined with scars, the eyes that had seen a hundred deaths and perhaps delivered just as many. Every instinct screamed at her to turn back, to take the satchel and run home.
But she couldn't. Not now. Not after all the hope riding on her.
She drew a deep breath, pressing the leather strap tighter against her palm. The faces of her people filled her mind again. She was not alone. If she failed, if she faltered, the politician would continue to bleed the village dry and terrorize the women she had grown up beside.
Steeling herself, she lifted her chin, set one foot before the other, and crossed the threshold.
The door groaned under her push, the smoke and warmth hitting her all at once. She swallowed, her pulse hammering in her ears, and stepped into the world she had feared—and hoped—would answer her plea.
Mariam's boots tapped against the worn floorboards, each step feeling impossibly loud in the cavernous tavern. A man's laughter rang out suddenly, sharp and guttural, and she flinched so violently she nearly dropped the satchel. Heads turned for a heartbeat, then returned to their drinks, but her heart still thundered in her chest.
She forced herself forward, only to startle again when a mug slipped from a rough hand at a nearby table, rolling across the floor with a heavy clatter. A small, involuntary shriek escaped her throat. The eyes around her lingered for a moment, then flicked away, some amused, some curious, some indifferent.
Taking a deep breath, she pressed on, focusing on the far wall where the bounty board waited. But even then, a boisterous argument at the corner table erupted, the voices booming as chairs scraped and fists thumped the table. She jumped sideways, clutching the satchel to her chest, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Every instinct screamed at her to run, but she gritted her teeth and moved forward.
Each step felt like wading through invisible fire. The floor creaked beneath her weight. Shadows shifted. She imagined every movement in the tavern as a potential trap, every glance a threat. And yet, despite the fear, despite the pounding of her pulse and the tremor in her hands, she kept moving.
By the time she reached the board, her knees were weak and her breath ragged—but she was here. She had made it through.
Mariam's hands shook as she lifted the parchment, tracing the face of the politician who had tormented her village. The satchel pressed against her chest felt impossibly heavy, each coin a tiny heartbeat of hope. With a gulp, she pinned it to the board, fingers trembling so violently she almost missed the tack.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened. The room held its breath with her. Then the silence settled, thick and suffocating. The argument in the corner died mid-shout. The clatter of mugs stopped rolling. Even the man polishing his dagger paused, steel gleaming in the dim light. Every pair of eyes—scarred, sharp, and unflinching—fixed on the paper.
A low murmur began somewhere near the back, as if someone had dared to whisper the impossible. Heads tilted, eyes widened, and then another voice joined in, louder this time, muttering disbelief and awe. The tension cracked like a thunderclap, and the room slowly came alive again—but the energy was different now.
Rough guffaws echoed from a table near the hearth. One man leaned back, stroking his beard, chuckling. "By the Seven Blades… she's either insane or brave as hell." Another spat on the floor and laughed, shaking his head. "Untouchable, they said. Untouchable!"
The whispers spread, mingling with laughter and hushed calculations. Even seasoned assassins, veterans of countless impossible contracts, couldn't hide their surprise. Some leaned forward, eyes narrowing, hands brushing over weapons almost instinctively. They were already measuring the risk, thinking through routes, timing, guards… everything.
And Mariam, standing in the center of it all, barely dared to breathe. Every sound felt amplified, every glance felt like a judgment. Her heart pounded. She wondered if someone would stand, walk over, and demand she leave—or worse. But no one did. The very rules of the place protected her, though she did not know it. She could only guess, hope, and steel herself, feeling the weight of every villager's prayers on her shoulders.
Slowly, she stepped back, giving the assassins space to react, and allowed herself a trembling exhale. The silence that had felt like a noose finally loosened, replaced by the hum of conversation, calculation, and amusement. The bounty was up. The challenge was set. And somewhere in that room, someone would take notice, and the wheels of Blade Incognito would turn.
Mariam's fingers wrapped around the door handle, trembling, as she tried to push it open. The warm light of the street beckoned, a fragile promise of safety. But before she could step through, the door swung back against her palm with a force that sent her stumbling backward.
She froze, heart leaping into her throat. The tavern owner stood behind her, silent and massive, his eyes unreadable in the dim interior. Fear clawed at her chest. "P-please… I didn't mean anything—" she stammered, clutching the satchel to her chest.
He raised a hand, and the tavern seemed to shrink around her. "Quiet," he said softly, and her knees nearly gave out at the calm authority in his voice. She had expected anger… punishment… death. But he did not strike, did not shout. He merely stepped closer, his presence enough to make her shrink back.
"The bounty you posted," he began, his tone deliberate, "it is… not what you believe."
Her eyes widened. "I—I'll pay more! Anything! Please…" Her voice shook as she spilled out apologies, fear spilling over.
He held up a hand again, patient, unhurried. "Listen. This politician… the one you seek… he is untouchable. The reward is tempting, yes, but no one here can take it. Not for lack of skill, but because the danger surpasses even the finest assassin's reach."
She blinked, trying to comprehend. "But… people… people post bounties all the time. Someone—someone will—"
He shook his head slowly. "This face… it has been on the board many times before. Countless times. Long enough that the papers have been buried beneath newer bounties. No one has ever succeeded. That is why you did not see it… and why you thought it was new."
Her hope wavered. She pressed her hands to her face, shaking. The weight of her village's trust pressed down on her.
Then, unexpectedly, he stepped aside and gestured for her to follow. "There may still be one path," he said. "A band of mercenaries led by two assassins. One of them—Bareeq—No. 1 assassin of the land. They take the jobs others would not dare touch, and they hold a certain… code. If anyone can, it will be them."
Mariam's eyes lit up with a spark of hope. "They… they would take it?"
He nodded once, slowly, and his gaze softened slightly. "But their headquarters is no ordinary place. Dangerous. Not easily reached. You will need courage… and luck."
As he led her through the tavern and toward the street, he placed a steady hand on her shoulder. "May the shadows protect you, Mariam of the village. And may you return safely. This journey… will not be simple. But perhaps, this is the one chance that could succeed where all others have failed."
Outside, the air felt colder, sharper, yet somehow lighter. She took a shaky breath, clutching the satchel, and let herself move forward, carrying the weight of hope—and the fear of what lay ahead.
The band Re-Introduction: on an uneventful day for the squad, a client shows up on their HQ to offer them for a mission. A meek and petite woman, she's already nervous before even entering the place. An old smaller castle atop mountains. But when she find the courage to enter, a rowdy guy's voice scares her on the spot. Too scared to even open her eyes, she just apologizes non-stop to whoever it is that voice belongs to. The owner of the voice, a bulky and menacing guy standing behind the counter proceeds to just laugh rudely at her. "What's yer business ere ma'am?" When she tells him about wanting to meet the Night Smoke band, he further interrogates her. Displaying his suspicion of her intention. Scaring her again. After which, again, he blasted into another laughter, amusing himself with her antiques. After calming down, he tells her to follow his lead. They go through a door leading out of that chamber into a courtyard that separates that building from the main building inside the castle. Finally she can see the real building housing the infamous Night Smoke band. The top assassin band of their time. An ominous wind blows forth from that place. She can even hear some haunting howl coming off that place. However, just as she's starting to have second thoughts, the big guy behind her just keeps pushing her forward into that building. Assuring her as long as she has a job for them she's not in danger. But for what his assurance is worth, when they reached the door into the main building, "Well this is as far as I'll get ya, from here on yer on yer own." He explains as he shove the small lady inside the building, shutting the door before she can escape. She tries to calm herself down but the haunting noise she can hear from outside the building is even clearer now. Greeting her inside, a long dark hallway, accompanied alongside it with several chambers. At the end of the hallway, a violet curtain seemingly hides the last chamber.
According to that receptionist earlier, Night Smoke's chamber should be at the end of the hallway. After a big audible gulp, she takes a step forward.Each chamber housing a different beast of its own, each member of this mythical band.
Whisperer - A mysterious and scary looking small girl talking to animals. But around her are very powerful beasts, distorted from past abuse and battle hardened by war to develop a vicious appetite for violence. Some barks, some growls, some hisses, some jump straight for the kill,
almost reaching the client as she walk past them. The metal bar saves her, but still she hasten her pace.
Noon Star - not clearly visible but a crooked creepy man (like a human version of twitch+singed), very unfriendly looking and definitely have body counts that he enjoys adding to. Riddling targets from several hundred feet away with powerful loud arrows using his modified crossbow. He also uses chemical bombs and smokes. From the outside suspicious and intimidating fogs came out of his room, with only barrage of loud shot noise escaping outside. Occasionally sparks and explosions from across the room is visible and audible.
One stray shot even lands right in front of her nose. Frightening her and slowing her walk, she's more cautious.
Big Guy - ripping metal sheets with his bare hands (he's actually wearing some special gloves) to make raw metal plates for Tinkerer to use. As the process is quite a labor to do, he grunts heavily every time he tears a piece of metal apart.
Escapist - He's silently hanged upside down, covered in sheets, bandages and chains. Spikes all around him and some part of the floor riddled with embers.
as she got more curious and stares longer, the lump of flesh started twitching violently and she turns away quickly. Already shaken enough by his uncanny movement.
Tinkerer - tinkering with her latest invention in a room submerged by her previous inventions. Gears and levers and chains riddles the wall of the room, barely even making way for anyone to see her in the middle of the room, twitching about and jumping abnormally while she modifies her current work.
Night Wind - Rapidly throwing blades after blades into one single point in the target around her, their eye socket, with terrifying accuracy. Some of them are even moving and she would even bounce them off walls to hit the same target in the same spot every time. From the outside, its as if she's protected by a barrier of blindingly fast flying sharp metals.
Though the woman tries her best to not make eye contact, she can feel the knife thrower's scissor sharp gaze on her neck. The gaze of an assassin. "it's almost over.. I'm almost there.." she whispers to herself with her eyes closed. But as she reached the end of the hallway, the leader's room. Though a sigh of relief escapes her mouth from the thought of the curtain hiding her from the terror of whats behind it. Before she can open her mouth, something behind that curtain rises up. A light glows behind it, it's awake. And from it, casts a shadow.
Night Smoke - He's hidden behind a large curtain. With some hint of light coming through, his silhouette riddles the curtain from outside. As he come out to meet the dealer/client, he took on multiple forms and shapes, displayed progressively on the curtain like a very bizarre puppet show. Sometimes he's skinny and frail, other times he's big and menacing, but then he's snout and serpent like, but also hollow and beastlike, into a slender bodacious woman, at times even mechanical and all distorted. At this point, the client's heartbeat is already louder than her own voice. She cant think of anything anymore. The built up suspense from the beast coming out from behind that curtain is already too much. He morphs and shifts almost a hundred times within that 5 seconds he gets to the middle of the curtain. Utterly unrecognizable, incomprehensible to the average human. Eventually as he reaches and pulls the curtain from the middle, revealing a handsome young man in his twenties.
"Yo, what business do you have with us today, Ma'am?" but to no response. He looks down and see the woman already collapse from the tension. Sweating a bucket, unconscious.