The First Whisper
“If you think silence is safe, you’ve never been watched by one of them.”
“Used to be a story. Said the Dishonored only killed the wicked — folks who beat their wives, merchants who trafficked kids, slavers, murderers, the like. They were ghosts with knives. Most of ‘em were survivors, see. Had nothing, so they took justice into their own hands.”
“But that was before. Now? They kill for coin. Doesn’t matter who, doesn’t matter why. Someone once joked you could mark a man for death with a bronze. A laugh, sure — ‘til the Dishonored came knockin’, askin’ where their coin was.”
“No one knows who leads them now. Maybe no one does. Maybe they answer to something worse. All I know is — if you’re talking about them, don’t say a name. Just in case.”
The Second Whisper
“Now here’s the scary part — they used to be the good guys.”
“No one knows how the Dishonored started. Just that they were victims — orphans, widows, broken things made sharp. And they swore vengeance. But not the messy kind — targeted justice. They didn’t take coin. Didn’t take credit. They just made sure the worst of us stopped breathing.”
“Even the people feared them, but they respected them. You couldn’t hire them. Couldn’t find them. And if someone bad vanished in the night, well… folk slept easier.”
“Then came The Red Raids. Maybe they lost too many. Maybe they ran out of monsters and started seeing everyone as fair game. Whatever it was, they changed. Now, they’ll kill anyone if the price is right. Even a joke — a whispered dare and a bronze coin — can turn fatal. One poor bastard offered a copper to ‘get rid of his boss.’ Three days later, his boss was dead… and the Dishonored came to him for payment.”
“No one knows who leads them now. Maybe it’s many. Maybe it’s none. All I know is, they don’t knock. They don’t warn. They arrive. And if your name’s in their ledger, your life’s already over.”