OOC: I assume that as the narrator Alrowan will be pacing the story, and we all fit round that, which is fine with me Also please try to suspend disbelief when you read about my character lol.

A short sharp grunt sounded out in the early morning as one of the guards at the edge of the crusader camp fell over with a dagger in his back. A black shadow grasped the body and eased it down into the soft wet grass, an almost unoticable spectre in the gloom of the false dawn.

The mist was heavy in the air in the south of france at this time of year and the black cloaked assasin used this to his advantage to slip unseen into the crusaders camp. While he had killed, he took no pleasure in slaughter, to him it was all business, just a contract to fufil, no personal feelings involved.

He had wanted to catch his quarry before they left france, and it looked like he would only just be in time, having been delayed on the ship from venice, pirates having tried to raid his vessel during the journey, another reason to keep your feet on solid ground he thought, chuckling silently to himself.

Having slipped past the outlying sentrys, the black clad assasin made his way silently, but confidently, through the still awakening camp, seemingly blending in with his surroundings, the black clad figure gone, and in his place appearing an english archer, a bow strapped across his back, his quiver full of arrows.

He knew that he would not find his quarry this morning, maybe if he could have had the night as well he could have disposed of his target and been gone, but he needed to get knowledge of his target and his practices. His employer had insisted on it and he had been reliably informed that his target was part of the english routine.

He was a fair archer, which explained his disguise, but also because this unit was very conveniant, it is easy for an arrow to hit a friend by accident. He would blend in, bide his time and then strike, his quarry knew he was a wanted man, it would not be easy but the assasin was confident of sucess, after all he had never failed before.

His name, no-one knows his real name; his age, indeterminate; his profession, assasin; and his target, Duke Robert.

He looked around, and even one as emotionaless as him, shook his head in bemusement at the hive of activity around him as he settled down for a few hours rest, no-one noticed that the next morning there was one more person in the unit, they just thought they had overcounted. He just grinned and pulled his cowl up further over his head...