Vallyn stared at his own left hand for the longest time, staring at the alabaster skin with a scrutinizing gaze. Every time he looked at his hands, all he saw were bloodstains. His entire life had been spent on revenge, and those around him had suffered fates worse than death. Allies, enemies, passerbies. They all died. The young man had remembered the King collecting him and the others for a task, the building of the guild, three months after his incarceration. "A chance to atone," Vallyn muttered to himself, clasped in the deepest shadows of the sewers. "Though will these acts ever clean these hands of mine?" The thief lamented.

Dropping from his perch in the sewer, he landed upon the walkway with practiced grace and made his way towards the ladder. Like a spider, he managed his way up the rungs and slowly, and as silently as he could, removed the lid to the sewer. Propping himself out and quietly replacing the lid, Vallyn hastily made his way to the next shadow and followed it in the utmost silence.

There was a job to do, after all.