Jasmine Warlord and an Assasin's Beginning

In your hands you hold most of my life’s story. This journal is my life’s work and has been written by me. It speaks of my love, my hate, my power, my weaknesses, my abilities, my skills, My style, my friends, my family.

If you have found it and you don’t feel that reading about ‘a murderer’ is important or worthwhile then put this book back and wait for the next worthy one. If you don’t then you are about to read a story of a girl who was led in every direction and got lost along the way. I should probably tell you who I am. I am Jasmina Eloise Warlord…. Then again my last name was originally Fangven but its no longer. But just call me Jasmine.


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1. Runaway

What did I do to deserve this life? I asked myself this as I stared out the window of my bedroom watching the other kids play. They were kicking a ball about but stopped and ran when they saw I was looking. I had done nothing wrong why did they hate me?

I knew it wasn’t just hate, it was fear too. Fear for my father and being his daughter, to them I was just as terrifying. In truth I had about as much evil in me as a daisy did. Same with skill I was clumsy; I tripped over my own feet.

I was called Jasmine. No one knew that my name was Jasmina or cared. My eyes were bright emerald green, unlike my father’s eyes they were a dark brown. I suspected I got them from my mother. My hair was black. Not just black, blacker than black, blacker than night, even darker than my father’s black hair. I was skinny and small.

I was 6. I didn’t speak much and had no one to speak to. Everyone either hated me or feared me. Or pretended I didn’t exist. I packed my satchel with what few belongings I had threw it over my shoulder and jumped out my window. I hit the ground hard and bit back tears. I had managed to twist my ankle. I won’t deny that it hurt. I wanted to scream.

I limped along the dirt path of the village and continued until I was so far away from the village that I was deep in the forest. No one named the forest because people never came out of them, the forest was known for its mysteries. The forest stretched over several countries and was said to be full of mythical creatures. I shivered it was cold out and I was in a light grey t-shirt. Not great for cold winter nights.

Nightstar the Bombay cat leapt onto my shoulder from a tree. Her amber eyes gleaming in the Twilight. I stroked her head and yawned contentedly. I was tired. Oh so tired, I was unnaturally tired. I leaned up against a tree and fell asleep.

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