*Turning to round the corner, Mr. Hair noticed a large crowd lingering outside of a betting shop. Rumours had spread far and wide about a largeharty and many had come to splendor at the vast sums of money being wagered. Not being a betting man, having learned the painful mistakes that had left the majority of his forefathers penniless destitute's due to ill-conceived wagers, he continued on his merry way, sauntering among the common rabble.

As elbow after elbow accosted him, his temper began to grow. Who the hell did these degenerates think they were putting his new snug slim fit thick wool suit at risk. His double-breasted jacket, featuring 3 buttons up the front and a lapel higher than a bald mans forehead, stained from the greasy hands of the unwashed masses. He was used to getting this type of attention from the ladies, they just loved the hair, but this was totally different. The fury built to the point he was ready to shoot someone, but he knew this wasn't the time or the place so bit his lip and continued on his way.

As he emerged from the claustrophobic conditions of the crowd, things changed drastically. He was now among the high rollers. The men that ran the games and that were carrying the bank everyone gathered was hoping to win. These were men of honor, friends of ours, they were Cosa Nostra. Mr. Hair was now among family and felt far more comfortable. The anger begin to wain, but the thoughts of killing those that had affronted him lingered. With that, a question began to fester in his mind.*

Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen,

It's good to see so many friends of ours gathered here today. I would like to discuss a very important topic with you today. It's something that doesn't often get mentioned, that is often considered taboo but one which is of great relevance and even importance to all of us. *Leaning forward towards the crowd, more as a gesture than any meaningful closing of the gap, he softly whispered*

Whispers

In our line of work, this thing of ours, death is inevitable. It will come and visit upon each of us some day and it will be part and parcel of what we might have to do for our family at any point in time. Our business means that sometimes, to protect our family, we simply must get our hands dirty.

*Checking once more that there are no ears that shouldn't be listening and that it's still all relevant parties nearby, he fixes his beautiful locks of flowing hair and calmly continues.*

In the past, providing one's victim with a whisper has always been considered good etiquette. We're not talking about sweeping thrash off the streets, but when we're dealing with a sanctioned hit on a known crime family this had always been considered the case. It gives a dying person one last interesting, funny, sad or comforting thought to linger on before taking an indefinite swim with the fishes. Despite that fact, assassins are often too lazy to provide a word or potentially simply lack the creativity to bestow their targets with the honour they deserve. We see it less and less being considered essential and more and more see it as the exception rather than the rule.

This leads us to the question that has been burning on my mind: What makes a great whisper?

Some people like making people smile before sending them off to the happy hunting grounds in the sky... or potentially a little lower down depending on the life choices. Others prefer providing them with a famous quote, an inspirational saying to assure them their murderer was a learned sort or even mysterious words to tease and tantilate their victims brain one last time before their final journey.

For many years there was a trend of "Make-You-Own-Whisper" kind of phrases like "Insert funny comment here" or "Insert comforting words here". Those show a great deal of laziness, commonly used by notoriously lazy bloodlines like Satanta and Clause, but are still a little better than not whispering anything at all. Then again, those are also bloodlines known for pinning notes to bodies in the hopes of recruiting the offspring of the deceased, brown nosing with heartfelt messages clearly intended to manipulate, so what can you really say of that type of person. 

Obviously sometimes you do not want your victim to have a "nice" death and keep quiet during the deed on purpose. There may be thoughts that giving any hints would simply help identify the killer and potentially have consequences down the line. In those scenarios I have always taken a little enjoyment of some clever hitters using the good old "Intentionally left blank", turning it into a proper statement. I'd have to imagine while it must burn for the person hearing it, it might also just get them to crack a smile.

The entire topic of whispering has to be seen from the giving aswell as the receiving perspective. So my question to those of you still gathered *carefully fixes his hair noticing that many of the ladies are paying extra close attention* is the following:

With what kind of whisper would you prefer being send off to the beyond?

What kind of whisper do you like giving out to your victims?

I guess when my time has come, I would enjoy being whispered off with a combination of cleverness and wit, sending me off to the sophisticated sex robot in the sky with a smile.

I do not have a lot experience on the giving side of whispers, I'm a lover not a fighter, but I guess I would prefer providing comforting words. That is unless I was truly enjoying the kill for whatever reason. However I do believe that disrespect has no place in a whisper, so I'd personally hold my tongue before I'd cross into any sort of personal attack. I've seen it too often and it has no place among men of honor.

I'm looking forward to hearing others thoughts on this. Perhaps we will even be able to give a few lazy hitters some inspiration and reduce the number of whisperless killings in this thing of ours.

I've always enjoyed some of the classics.

"Ohhh, when did they put whispers on pickpocketing?"

Or to rub it in even more "Ohhh, now they've put whispers and a safety on pickpocketing. How cool is that?".

They both crack me up far more than they should.

Something timeless like the 23rd Psalm is always good, especially if you can put a twist on it.

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. 

Also, the +1 you're giving me comforts me even more.”

In terms of what to receive, I'm guessing I'd be happy with anything. It genuinely does appear to be a dying art. Something personal is always the preferred one, assuming it's nothing nasty. Something clever, funny or witty is always a great way to take the edge off the loss. It can be a great comfort to the relatives left behind. Something trolling has become quite common. It's regrettable, but I'd still say it's preferable to the all too common silence.   

The day suddenly brightened up when she thought she could hear the voice of the silver tongued devil that was MonsterHair. Rounding the corner her thoughts were confirmed as she could see his fantastic vision in front of her, fixing his glorious locks. It was like a little part of the heavens opened up and shone on her, warming the cockles of her cold dead heart. Just then Anathema realised she was falling into her usual fuzzy daze when she got distracted by such beauty. Shaking her head as if to get rid of the haze, she vowed she would have no wine tonight as punishment for her silliness. Her thoughts quickly turned to anger for allowing her guard to slip, she had a reputation to uphold. With her sombre face back were it should be, she composed herself to speak.

I understand that giving whispers was much more common in times gone by and seems like a dying art. I'm glad you brought the topic up as it could just inspire people to consider reviving this tradition.

I do think that laziness is a tad unfair though, with the exception of the Satanta and Clause bloodlines of course. I' m not saying laziness is not a factor but perhaps it could be young hitters, unsure of themselves in the heat of the moment and they just can't think of something to say in time as they are overwhelmed with the experience. Maybe, like much knowledge in the world, it just isn't being passed down the generations as it once was.

Regardless of the causes, I do feel that if you are to take someone's life, that the least you can do in most cases, is help ease their passing in those last lonely moments. However, I can also understand those situations that might arise that you will have no respect for your victim. Whether that is down to the crime committed or the nature of the killer...

As she caught a glimpse of MonsterHair's locks, her whole train of thought choo choo'd off into the distance. 'Damnit!' she thought and she remembered her mantra, 'Wine Rules, Boys Drool'.

Anyway, to answer your questions. I would like, when my time comes to be sent off with kind or witty words and can only hope that my doom ends in compassion.

Sensing she had sucked the joviality out of the discussion,  Anathema considered this a job well done. Trying her hardest to give MonsterHair a cold, icy stare and failing miserably, she skulked off into the night. On the way home for a wineless evening, rage coursing through her veins, she pickpocketed some schmuk and roughed him up a bit and felt a little better.

Axel must've been one of those high rollers or something, since he too found himself amongst the small crowd and spectacle that was MonsterHair. He wasn't at all times friendly, but in a sense Axel was definitely a friend when introduced to others in the inner circle, even if some wanted to test his Drunken Boxing.

After taking someone's fortnightly paycheck from a poker game, Axel stuffed it into his pocket with the family man's pride and balls, whilst giving his input on the topic.

"I don't come from one of the ancient lineages around here, so my take is going to be different. But different is good in life, as change is inevitable, just like death, so why the fuck not."

Axel clicked his fingers which then had the man begging at his feet removed by two goons, dragged away from the group. I guess he wanted that cash back.

"I only leave a little something if the person I'm aiming my hand axe at, or even Betty for that matter, has made some kind of impact on me other than being a complete shadow. If I have absolutely no idea who you are, because you haven't made a single trip to these fine streets, or found anther way to impact this life of ours, then the axe wont be used. I'll be slung out a car window with Betty pumping day light into ya, so a whisper just wont make sense."

A gunshot could be heard off in the background. Maybe that poor sap from before?

"if it's personal, or you've created a reputation for yourself around here that has me wanting to get up close and personal out of respect for what you've done, then I'll give you some parting words. Otherwise, why should I? If you choose to be a ghost around here, then the whisper will be just as non existent as you were to me."

The two goons from before return to where Axel is and let him know with a nod that it might be time to depart.

"This also means what you, not your long lost generations have done. A person's life should be weighed on their own actions and deeds, not their parents or any long list of family members. If we didn't meet in this life or I didn't know your legacy from your current impact on mine, then what else can one expect?"

Thinking shortly on the subject, here's what DotBoom had to say about it:

In the past 29 members of my line, including 6 suicidal ones, I only got two whispers, the latest being the one my father got while sent back in the heavens during his sleep (which, I do concede didn't happen often to my line). That situation of lack of whispers was so disappointing that one ancestor even had the name "Whispered" after his father getting the first whisper.

The last one was by far the best of the two: a humoristic musical signature of the assassin. That's the kind of whisper you want to hear, or do, not some other form justifying the reason of your removal, which by the way may be false, or subjective to the assassin.

I know my father died with a smile on his face, he died happy and without much regrets, because he was loyal to his family to the end, and because of his Leader's honorable decision not to go after his friends lives, even if that may be considered as a bad dice throw for him and his family by some. I thus have no bad feelings, neither towards my past life Leader, nor towards my father's Assassin, because I know he did what we all of the underground structures have to do: follow orders and war plans. Leaving a visit-card at the place of the crime is an honorable act in those circumstances.