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You are the assassin, one of the deadliest in existence.

Throughout your life it's been the same. In your earliest memories of other children, they have gone out of their way to attack and hurt you. You have bullied unmercifully throughout your school days, beaten almost beyond endurance. Why?

Your mother was a witch, she was burned alive. Late one night in the peaceful old town of Ratziellburg, the townspeople came upon your mother's house with torches. Though she had told fortunes for the goodwives of town, perhaps she had said something that sat ill in someone's stomach. Though she had sold information, plucked from men's minds, perhaps she had plucked something that should have stayed unplucked. Though she had defended the town from humanoid incursion with her movement of the mind, perhaps she had let one too many Orcish arrows though.

And so they burned your mother. They tied her to the stake and piled around it pitched kindling. It went up like a torch, and so did her blonde hair. You cried your eyes out as her sharp but beautiful feature melted like wax in the flames. She shrieked out curses on the townsfolk with her last breadth as the superheated air scorched her lungs.

But the Burgomaster held you back firmly. A stern and very pious man, he took you into his own home, preaching to the townsfolk that any sin could be cleansed by faith. However, it was clear that he considered you irredeemably tainted by sin. He would do nothing as his own children beat you senseless every single night.
At school it was the same, as the schoolmasters would grudingly teach you, but not defend you. And yet, you learned to fight..

(it will continue later)

Continues........

As the number of your assailants ever redoubled itself-- for you were never left alone- so did your prowess with fists and feet, teeth and nails. Time, and again were you beaten to a pulp, but time and again did you have you revenge upon your captors. Until ond day there were no one who could stand against you, and you stood victorious at the centre of the schoolyard, while your assailants could only sneer and murmur from the edge, afraid to face you.
Yet you were alone.
You grew up with your eyes possessed by a hardness and coldness unimaginable. As a man, there was only one profession for one with your anger and hate- Assassination..
You became one of the deadliest in your field, fighting with sword and dagger. An extra edge was provided by powers you have inherited from your mother, which appeared at puberty, long since no other child even dared approach you. And yet, you remain alone.
Nothing even touches the cold black void of your heart. You leave a corpse in every city, mountains in the badlands. You became fabulously wealthy. But nothing fills the hole..

Until one day, you meet someone named Sarah. She's an assassin too- though as Dark Elf Spries- and you meet up by chance as you approach the same contact in a bar one night. You find yourself talking to her as you have talked to no one for years. Despite yourselves, you exchange life stories. She's been exiled for years and heart hold the same rage and hatred as yours at her treatment.
But in each other, you find respite.
Everyday for you is a holiday from the cold. Together, you leave the assassination business for a while, and journey far away. You spend your time in an impromptu honeymoon living in the lap of luxury. Spending your considerable resources. Happiness is an emotion you find almost strange in its novelity.
But one day, you wake up alone, finding only a hastily scribbled note. Sarah says she's sorry, but she needs to find her herself again alone.
Initially, you feel rage that you should have been treated this way. Secondly, you feel desolation and abandonment. Then, you miss her desperately, then......nothing.
But you feel something mare, something within yourself. With some surprise, you find that your old anger and rage at humanity has finally faded. No longer you feel such hatred of mankind as to kill them for pleasure. You're likely to still do it for profit, but for you, the difference is cabtle.

(it'll be continuing later on)

Either you have magically become WAY better at grammar, or this is plagiarized.

'Grammar' not *grammer* ^

Robust didn't create this story, it's a game on another site. I played it like a few years ago.

Here's the original.

http://www.ffproject.com/outsider.htm

Plagiarism aside, it's a cool game. (The entire site has some cool stuff in general)

I know, its a fighting fantasy gamebook and on that link (given by endmaster) you can find more than dozens of awful gamebooks including 'Outsider'.

Outsider isnt "aweful". It think robust meant "awesome".

I'm a sleuth! Lol. Anyway, Robust, plagiarism is illegal. Try to avoid it.