The characters are based on ones from one of the few table top games I actually am a player in, rather than a DM. Similarities to the campaign end after that.
"So Nal, let me get this straight, the woman in the blue dress at your birthday party was-"
"Mystra, goddess of magic. Yes. Don't feel bad about it. She's my goddess and I didn't figure it out until three hours after she left." The young drow went back to his note taking. "And no, I don't know why she was here and no, I haven't developed any new powers, abilities, or insights that might be attributed to divine gifts."
Trizkel dropped down into the well appolstered chair opposite Nalifan. Most of the sprawling manse was decorated in what Nalifan called "Calishite brothel", although the private quarters of the former owner were furnished with a more restrained taste. Nalifan had claimed those as his own and no one had objected. A wizard should get the wizard's quarters, after all. He spent a lot of the time in more public areas. He was, in part, a very social animal.
"What are you working on?" Trizkel asked.
Nalifan looked up from his sheet filled with notations in Ilythiri, High Netherese, and Abyssal magical symbology. "A nasty trick to use the target's life force to fuel magical flames. Around their internal organs."
Trizkel winced with his right eye. The other was gone, replaced by a mithril face plate that covered one side of his head. The plate was studded with rubies. The resemblence between the pattern of the gems and the distribution of the eyes of a spider was not coincidence.
A human servant came in with a tray of sweetmeets and glass flagon full of more win. She wasn't young and she wasn't beautiful, but her smile was gorgeous. She refilled Nalifan's glass and left the tray. Nalifan smiled back. It was a devestatingly effective weapon which he employed often.
He was handsome, by the standards of men and elves. Almost as tall most femal drow he had crimson eyes and perfect black satin skin. His hair was tightly bound back and a silver color that more than a few males dyed to get the attention of powerful females. His body was lithe and well muscled, his facial features symmetrical and perfect. He was well aware of this and not a little vain.
Not that Kalia cared. Her affection for her employer stemmed more from him liberating her from the kuo-toa slave pits and bringing her back to the surface. Some of the former slaves had elected to stay as his household staff, at generous wages.
"So," said Nalifan as he eyed the sweet meats, "you're bored."
"You can tell that easy?"
"You hide it poorly. In battle and in practice your discipline is perfect. But you weren't raised drow. Knowing how to hide your intentions was never a survival skill for you."
Trizkel leaned back. He was far more powerfully built than Nalifan, almost matching the proportions of an elite human athlete. He had an inch or two in height as well and rugged good looks that would make many Matrons choose him as a bed mate and a father to warrior daughters and sons. His hair was shaved off, a concession to the artifact that covered half his skull. His mind was deadly a weapon as his body, a mistake few ever survived making.
"So," said Trizkel kicking air, "any plans? Or are we going to sit here, sucking down by the contents of the cellars and paying out the treasury for all our precious servants and goodies or are we going to do something to establish some income?"
Nalifan leanded back and laughed. "Do you have something in mind?" Trizkel usually defered to Nalifan, but not because he was insecure but because he was confident in Nalifan's judgements. That didn't mean he didn't have plans of his own.
"Well, there is this little problem that Cormyr has been having with caravans. Considering how many have been lost even if the reward money-." He stopped. "What is it?" he asked the servant who had just opened the door behind him.
The boy bowed. He wore long tunic and pants to cover up the scars on his body that being raised in kuo-toa captivity had inflicted upon him. "Sir, a Lady Sylvetria and her party are at the front door. They wish to speak with you."
Nalifan smiled. "Maybe we won't have to go as far as Cormyr after all. Shall we?"
Trizkel bounced to his feet. "I don't see why not. There is, how shall I say it, a certain serendipidous quality to her appearance."
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Lady Sylvetria was escorted by some of the toughest looking humans Nalifan had ever seen and he'd seen a fair amount of Faerun, both above and below the surface. They wore leather over mail and carried well worn weapons. The dynamic of an experienced group was clearly visible to his eye. In the center of that group was a woman who was not a member of it.
She was tall and lightly tanned, with bright blue eyes and long black hair. She wore full plate that gleamed under scruitiny of Nalifan's enhanced vision. The sword at her waist was so powerful its aura burned through its sheath.
"Lady Sylvetria, welcome to my manse," said Nalifan with a smooth bow. Trizkel kept his face dispassionate. Technically, it was Nalifan's place because no one else had wanted it. In reality, he really ran it for the rest of the group who stayed here often and didn't want to be bothered with the upkeep. He wondered how long it would be before Nalifan tried to talk her into bed.
She swung off her horse. "Thank you for your curteous welcome. We've come a long way to see you."
"My servants will see to your horses and your men. Will you come in and break your fast with us? I'm sure that some refreshments would be pleasant after your journey."
"Yes, thank you," she replied.
"Please follow me," Nalifan replied as he turned around in a swirl of sable and violet silk. It was a calculated move, one Trizkel had seen him do before. Nalifan was a believer in being able to reaons or awe his way through many situations. It oftened work. When it didn't, his magics were swift and deadly. "Make sure to get all the much off your boots before you come all the way in," Nalifan called out behind him.
------------------------------------------------
Mikos sat still as a stone at the long table. The Dalesman wasn't particularily comfortable in these situations, but stoicism came easily to him. Nalifan did the negotiating and the questioning because he was best at it. Trizkel sat to the side, waiting for openings. Despite their radically different backgrounds, the two drow worked better together than anyone else. Nalifan's flashy brilliance and power backed by Trizkel's quiet competence.
He tore a piece of bread in half and applied both butter and honey to it. He only occassionaly touched base at the manse. It was easy to go soft here and that was death. This Lady Sylvetria was a mystery to him, but her soldiers were not.
As Nalifan and Lady Sylvetria exchanged words at the head of the table, with Trizkel contributing every now and then, Mikos watched the soldiers. They were tired and uncomfortable. They didn't know how to react, which was strange for the retainers of a noble house.
A servant approached him. "Yes?"
"Lord, there is a man at the door. He says it is important." Mikos looked over. Trizkel and Nalifan were engaged in conversation, which is why Kalia had come to him. Nalifan disliked interruptions, except when it was important.
"I'll take care of it Kalia. Tell Trizkel and Nal when they have a moment."
The big man got up and walked out. Habit made him throw on his suit of enchanted mithral mail and belt on his swords. Over a year back, a few of Nalifan's relatives had shown up out of nowhere to express his mother's displeasure at Nalifan's defection. The incident in Sembia hadn't made him anymore trusting.
He reached the door. A man with short black hair and coppery skin was waiting there. He wore a black jacket of some kind of smooth material over a shirt of black and gold silk. The wore pants of the same fabric as the jacket. He smiled showing white teeth inset with small gemstones.
"I'm reliably informed that you are host to Sylvetria of Tagronese. Please surrender her to my custody."
Oh crap, though Mikos. He made a gesture to a servant. Stall. "Why would you think that?"
"I can smell her." So much for that tactic.
"We don't surrender guests without good reason. Dalesland custom."
"Nalifan is a drow." Good point, but it wasn't like the rest of them were just extensions of his will.
"When in Calimshan . . . ." Mikos countered. The manse was technically in the periphery of the Dales.
The man smiled even more broadly. "I was hoping you would be like this." Fire and darkness erupted around him and the air was rent with unearthly screams.
Since When Does Trouble Knock? (Forgotten Realms)
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Since When Does Trouble Knock? (Forgotten Realms)
Last edited by Imperial Overlord on 2005-07-30 05:20am, edited 1 time in total.
The Excellent Prismatic Spray. For when you absolutely, positively must kill a motherfucker. Accept no substitutions. Contact a magician of the later Aeons for details. Some conditions may apply.
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There was nothing wrong with Mikos's reflexes. He dived back and went into an ackward roll. "NAL!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. His blades leapted into his hands, longsword and shortsword. The fire and darkness cleared and the keening faded away. What remained was worse.
Four vrocks flanked a fifth fiend that Mikos did not recognize. The winged vulture demons were armoured with plates of some alien purple metal and carried ranseurs with ugly saw-edged blades. The vrocks were lithe and terrible and had two feet on him, even as hunched over as he was. There was no doubt in his mind about how deadly the claws were that clutched those weapons.
The first lunged through the doorway and Mikos parried with his longsword and opened a shallow cut in the demon's arm with his shortsword. It tried to put the butt spike through his skull, but he stepped to the side. The demon advanced and the others piled in through the door. I really should have brought my bow, he thought.
The fifth laughed as his minions advanced. It's skin was such a dark shade of red that it almost seemed black. It was easily twice as tall as Mikos and muscled like a god. Bat-like wings pertruded from its shoulders and its face was a savage mockery of that of a man. "You should have given her-"
The head of one of the vrock's shot up in a geyser of blood as a silver bladed sword flashed by. A powerfully built, grey scaled lizard toad hissed and brandished its blade. On its chest it wore a gleaming gold pectoral, its arms were banded with potent amulets, its fingers gleamed with rings, and those finger grasped a magnificent sword as tall as it was. Nalifan's doorkeeper was not to be triffled with.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Nalifan and Trizkel bolted up from there seat. Nalifan enunciated the trigger words of a spell as Trizkel gathered his energies and wove defences around him. All this took moments. Trizkel's hand fell on Nalifan's shoulder and they were gone.
There was a pop as they materialized on the stairs near the front door. Trizkel leapt twenty feet and landed on his feet with his swords drawn. The blade in his right had a blade of obsidian. The one in his left was serrated edged steel. He charged forward.
The vrock saw the drow charging towards it. It's attention shifted, which was all Mikos needed. He deflected the ranseur with his short sword while ramming his longsword into the beast abdomen, in a gap between the plates. The blade penetrated a full foot. The vrock screamed. Then Trizkel hit it.
The drow was a practitioner of that rare kind of magic that is sometimes referred to as psionics. In his case, a disciplined and trained mind complemented a disciplined and trained body. Enhancements, sorcerous and otherwise, made him superhumanely strong.
His speed was inhuman. He leaped up, the left hand blade forcing the ranseur away while the obsidian blade punched into the vrock's throat. Black blood sprayed out as the killing strike went home. He smashed into the dying demon knee's first, his psychokinetic armour absorbing the force. His moment carried both of them to the floor. The vrock not busy fending off the grey slaad raised its ranseur for a devestating strike.
And froze. It's body became transparent and it teetered, overbalanced. It fell. The head shattered, sending shards of glass all over the floor. Nalifan walked forward and spoke again. A black beam edged in scarlett shot from his hand and struck the remaining vrock in the back. It shrivelled and fell. The remaining fiend smiled.
"So, you have some fight in you. It won't save you. Hand her over."
Nalifan arched an eyebrow. "I'm not accustomed to taking orders, especially from those who would violate my home. Why don't you start by giving me reasons not to seal you up in a bottle and drop you in Oceana?"
The fiend showed roars of shark like teeth. "You drow are bold, I'll give you that. But you have no idea what I am, do you? You wouldn't be so flip if you knew. Your guest hasn't told you, has she? What do you owe to one who would bring trouble to your doorstep?"
Nalifan smiled. In a few moments Miko would have his bow and Kuuni would be along. Talking just put the odds more in his favor. "Good points. For my guest, who hasn't attacked me. You on the other hand, are continuing to ask for an involuntary tour of the Celestial Planes."
The fiend shook its head. "Foolish, little drow. I could have used your power and your intellect, but your arrogance has betrayed you. Against me, your sorcery will not prevail and you will not even experience the mercy of void, let alone the embrace of your diety." Malignant power glinted in his eyes.
Nalifan struck first. A long word errupted from his mouth, the signifier to a deadly spell. A long and terrible wail resounded as the air around the fiend swam with cyan tendrils of deadly power. The fiend was unmoved and untouched.
"Nice. Very deadly. Insufficient. Now it is my turn."
Trizkel leapted forward, so fast he was only a blur. The fiend slapped him aside, sending the psychic warrior rolling down the corridor. Mikos raised his bow, shaken but not as of yet defeated.
The the fiend screamed. A silver haired gnomish woman wearing leathers and silks of deepest black, rammed a black iron dagger deep into its calf. Before the fiend could react, she stabbed him in the other leg. He bellowed. Windows all over the front of the house shattered.
Mikos fired, sending enchanted shafts straight into the fiend's chest. They shattered on impact. The fiend raised its leg to stomp on the gnome, but she rolled out of the way and layed another cup along its leg. He reached down to smash her, but she was already moving away.
Nalifan spoke more words and a gate opened behind the fiend, a hole in space hovering an endless silver-blue ocean. He spoke two more long words. There was a terrible noise. The floor underneath the fiend's feet exploded upward. Upward and towards the gate. If fell through and rent healed itself as if it never was.
Nalifan turned toward the gnome. "Nice of you to show up Kuuni. You're timing is impeccable, as always."
The gnome shrugged. "Always happy to stab something."
Trizkel looked around warily. Much of the force of the fiend's blow had been deflected by his force armour. "What in the name of the Abyss was that thing?"
"I don't know," said Nalifan. "But I doubt that will kill it or inconvience it for too long. I think our guest has a lot to explain."
Four vrocks flanked a fifth fiend that Mikos did not recognize. The winged vulture demons were armoured with plates of some alien purple metal and carried ranseurs with ugly saw-edged blades. The vrocks were lithe and terrible and had two feet on him, even as hunched over as he was. There was no doubt in his mind about how deadly the claws were that clutched those weapons.
The first lunged through the doorway and Mikos parried with his longsword and opened a shallow cut in the demon's arm with his shortsword. It tried to put the butt spike through his skull, but he stepped to the side. The demon advanced and the others piled in through the door. I really should have brought my bow, he thought.
The fifth laughed as his minions advanced. It's skin was such a dark shade of red that it almost seemed black. It was easily twice as tall as Mikos and muscled like a god. Bat-like wings pertruded from its shoulders and its face was a savage mockery of that of a man. "You should have given her-"
The head of one of the vrock's shot up in a geyser of blood as a silver bladed sword flashed by. A powerfully built, grey scaled lizard toad hissed and brandished its blade. On its chest it wore a gleaming gold pectoral, its arms were banded with potent amulets, its fingers gleamed with rings, and those finger grasped a magnificent sword as tall as it was. Nalifan's doorkeeper was not to be triffled with.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Nalifan and Trizkel bolted up from there seat. Nalifan enunciated the trigger words of a spell as Trizkel gathered his energies and wove defences around him. All this took moments. Trizkel's hand fell on Nalifan's shoulder and they were gone.
There was a pop as they materialized on the stairs near the front door. Trizkel leapt twenty feet and landed on his feet with his swords drawn. The blade in his right had a blade of obsidian. The one in his left was serrated edged steel. He charged forward.
The vrock saw the drow charging towards it. It's attention shifted, which was all Mikos needed. He deflected the ranseur with his short sword while ramming his longsword into the beast abdomen, in a gap between the plates. The blade penetrated a full foot. The vrock screamed. Then Trizkel hit it.
The drow was a practitioner of that rare kind of magic that is sometimes referred to as psionics. In his case, a disciplined and trained mind complemented a disciplined and trained body. Enhancements, sorcerous and otherwise, made him superhumanely strong.
His speed was inhuman. He leaped up, the left hand blade forcing the ranseur away while the obsidian blade punched into the vrock's throat. Black blood sprayed out as the killing strike went home. He smashed into the dying demon knee's first, his psychokinetic armour absorbing the force. His moment carried both of them to the floor. The vrock not busy fending off the grey slaad raised its ranseur for a devestating strike.
And froze. It's body became transparent and it teetered, overbalanced. It fell. The head shattered, sending shards of glass all over the floor. Nalifan walked forward and spoke again. A black beam edged in scarlett shot from his hand and struck the remaining vrock in the back. It shrivelled and fell. The remaining fiend smiled.
"So, you have some fight in you. It won't save you. Hand her over."
Nalifan arched an eyebrow. "I'm not accustomed to taking orders, especially from those who would violate my home. Why don't you start by giving me reasons not to seal you up in a bottle and drop you in Oceana?"
The fiend showed roars of shark like teeth. "You drow are bold, I'll give you that. But you have no idea what I am, do you? You wouldn't be so flip if you knew. Your guest hasn't told you, has she? What do you owe to one who would bring trouble to your doorstep?"
Nalifan smiled. In a few moments Miko would have his bow and Kuuni would be along. Talking just put the odds more in his favor. "Good points. For my guest, who hasn't attacked me. You on the other hand, are continuing to ask for an involuntary tour of the Celestial Planes."
The fiend shook its head. "Foolish, little drow. I could have used your power and your intellect, but your arrogance has betrayed you. Against me, your sorcery will not prevail and you will not even experience the mercy of void, let alone the embrace of your diety." Malignant power glinted in his eyes.
Nalifan struck first. A long word errupted from his mouth, the signifier to a deadly spell. A long and terrible wail resounded as the air around the fiend swam with cyan tendrils of deadly power. The fiend was unmoved and untouched.
"Nice. Very deadly. Insufficient. Now it is my turn."
Trizkel leapted forward, so fast he was only a blur. The fiend slapped him aside, sending the psychic warrior rolling down the corridor. Mikos raised his bow, shaken but not as of yet defeated.
The the fiend screamed. A silver haired gnomish woman wearing leathers and silks of deepest black, rammed a black iron dagger deep into its calf. Before the fiend could react, she stabbed him in the other leg. He bellowed. Windows all over the front of the house shattered.
Mikos fired, sending enchanted shafts straight into the fiend's chest. They shattered on impact. The fiend raised its leg to stomp on the gnome, but she rolled out of the way and layed another cup along its leg. He reached down to smash her, but she was already moving away.
Nalifan spoke more words and a gate opened behind the fiend, a hole in space hovering an endless silver-blue ocean. He spoke two more long words. There was a terrible noise. The floor underneath the fiend's feet exploded upward. Upward and towards the gate. If fell through and rent healed itself as if it never was.
Nalifan turned toward the gnome. "Nice of you to show up Kuuni. You're timing is impeccable, as always."
The gnome shrugged. "Always happy to stab something."
Trizkel looked around warily. Much of the force of the fiend's blow had been deflected by his force armour. "What in the name of the Abyss was that thing?"
"I don't know," said Nalifan. "But I doubt that will kill it or inconvience it for too long. I think our guest has a lot to explain."
Last edited by Imperial Overlord on 2005-07-30 05:20am, edited 2 times in total.
The Excellent Prismatic Spray. For when you absolutely, positively must kill a motherfucker. Accept no substitutions. Contact a magician of the later Aeons for details. Some conditions may apply.
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[smartass]The Narrator[/smartass]
Seriously, Nalifan D'Azurentein is my character.
Trizkel is Chris's.
Kuuni is Steve's (aka Freakboy).
Mikos is Mike's.
Thiddeus (not shown up yet) is my brother's.
Essentialy, I'm pretending a different storyline occured after the big break in our campaign. I've taken a few small liberties with the characters, but they are otherwise as true representations as I can make them.
Seriously, Nalifan D'Azurentein is my character.
Trizkel is Chris's.
Kuuni is Steve's (aka Freakboy).
Mikos is Mike's.
Thiddeus (not shown up yet) is my brother's.
Essentialy, I'm pretending a different storyline occured after the big break in our campaign. I've taken a few small liberties with the characters, but they are otherwise as true representations as I can make them.
The Excellent Prismatic Spray. For when you absolutely, positively must kill a motherfucker. Accept no substitutions. Contact a magician of the later Aeons for details. Some conditions may apply.
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Nalifan walked back to the dining room, with what could be called a pleasant smile on his face. A more perceptive individual might describe it as predatory. Lady Sylvetria and her retainers were waiting nervously.
Nalifan resumed speaking in a pleasant tone. "We left off discussing the trip from Vaasa, I believe it was. Then a fiend from the Lower Planes decided to show up at my door. He was looking for you, as a matter of fact, and came complete with an elite bodyguard. Why don't we skip all the other pleasantries and get to the important bits."
"My lord," she began, "you have my deepest apologies. I did not think the fiend would be able-"
Nalifan cut her off, the smile gone from his face, his voice as cold and remorseless as a glacier. "I didn't ask for apologies. Explanation. Now. Or you'll wish I had given you to that fiend."
One of the guards growled and stood up. "You will not-" Quick as a striking serpent, Nalifan's fist crashed into his face. Blood and teeth sprayed onto the table. The soldier was knocked back into his chair by the force and the blow, which subsequently overturned and dumped him onto the floor. He rolled in agony, clutching his shattered jaw.
Another man froze in the act of drawing his blade, a serrated edge mere inches from his throat. "That would be . . .unwise," said Trizkel. He relaxed.
"One does not instruct an arch-mage on how he may speak and one especially does not presume to tell me what I may or may not do in my own home!" He turned back to Sylvetria. "I won't wait for much longer."
"It concerns the Witch King, Zhengyi" she said softly. "My ancestors came from the south and settled in Vaasa. Then the Witch King came and those that resisted died. We were on the edge of the kingdom and by then we learned what happened to those who did not bow. So we did. When he was defeated, we rejoiced. But one year ago, things went wrong."
She stopped for a moment. Her retainers were tending to the fallen man, pouring a vial of a yellow syrupy liquid down his throat. "Terrible things were spotted walking in the distance. They disappeared when approached but you could tell that they were wrong. I don't know any other word for it."
"Go on," said Nalifan. Servants were cleaning up the blood on the table and floor. He wiped his knuckles on a napkin. There was a shimmer as the force wards touched the cloth and absorbed the blood.
"We found pieces of carcasses. Dead animals. And monsters. We found pieces of dead trolls. And then livestock starting to go missing. And then people. Our attempts to trap one eventually succeeded, but we became the prey. I shrouded the area in darkness in tore three men apart. I took one of the bodies, but left his arm and leg behind."
"We knew we were outmatched, so we abandoned Tagronese. My mother lead us to Darmshall. We consulted a priest of Chauntea. He prayed for two straight nights and then told us your name and said you would be found south of Featherdale. And so we came."
Nalifan leaned back. "Do you have any idea what was behind these attacks?"
"No. We never saw it clearly. But they happened every thirty days."
"Always thirty days?"
"Yes, always."
"And is today on the schedule?"
"Yes, but it hasn't attacked us in months. I thought it had remained behind."
"Obviously not." He turned. "Dana, have Laerasis send our dessert in the study. Make sure our guests are made comfortable here."
The little blonde bound. "Yes lord."
"Trizkel, Kuuni, Mikos, with me. We have much to discuss."
Nalifan resumed speaking in a pleasant tone. "We left off discussing the trip from Vaasa, I believe it was. Then a fiend from the Lower Planes decided to show up at my door. He was looking for you, as a matter of fact, and came complete with an elite bodyguard. Why don't we skip all the other pleasantries and get to the important bits."
"My lord," she began, "you have my deepest apologies. I did not think the fiend would be able-"
Nalifan cut her off, the smile gone from his face, his voice as cold and remorseless as a glacier. "I didn't ask for apologies. Explanation. Now. Or you'll wish I had given you to that fiend."
One of the guards growled and stood up. "You will not-" Quick as a striking serpent, Nalifan's fist crashed into his face. Blood and teeth sprayed onto the table. The soldier was knocked back into his chair by the force and the blow, which subsequently overturned and dumped him onto the floor. He rolled in agony, clutching his shattered jaw.
Another man froze in the act of drawing his blade, a serrated edge mere inches from his throat. "That would be . . .unwise," said Trizkel. He relaxed.
"One does not instruct an arch-mage on how he may speak and one especially does not presume to tell me what I may or may not do in my own home!" He turned back to Sylvetria. "I won't wait for much longer."
"It concerns the Witch King, Zhengyi" she said softly. "My ancestors came from the south and settled in Vaasa. Then the Witch King came and those that resisted died. We were on the edge of the kingdom and by then we learned what happened to those who did not bow. So we did. When he was defeated, we rejoiced. But one year ago, things went wrong."
She stopped for a moment. Her retainers were tending to the fallen man, pouring a vial of a yellow syrupy liquid down his throat. "Terrible things were spotted walking in the distance. They disappeared when approached but you could tell that they were wrong. I don't know any other word for it."
"Go on," said Nalifan. Servants were cleaning up the blood on the table and floor. He wiped his knuckles on a napkin. There was a shimmer as the force wards touched the cloth and absorbed the blood.
"We found pieces of carcasses. Dead animals. And monsters. We found pieces of dead trolls. And then livestock starting to go missing. And then people. Our attempts to trap one eventually succeeded, but we became the prey. I shrouded the area in darkness in tore three men apart. I took one of the bodies, but left his arm and leg behind."
"We knew we were outmatched, so we abandoned Tagronese. My mother lead us to Darmshall. We consulted a priest of Chauntea. He prayed for two straight nights and then told us your name and said you would be found south of Featherdale. And so we came."
Nalifan leaned back. "Do you have any idea what was behind these attacks?"
"No. We never saw it clearly. But they happened every thirty days."
"Always thirty days?"
"Yes, always."
"And is today on the schedule?"
"Yes, but it hasn't attacked us in months. I thought it had remained behind."
"Obviously not." He turned. "Dana, have Laerasis send our dessert in the study. Make sure our guests are made comfortable here."
The little blonde bound. "Yes lord."
"Trizkel, Kuuni, Mikos, with me. We have much to discuss."
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Chris and I almost always end up as a team. We work really well together. Almost every single time we can be counted on to back each other up with the right move without even talking about it.
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You're similiar to a pair of friends I have, also featuring a guy called Chris . . . when ever we're playing Counterstrike, they'll always end up performing really timely moves, so devastating it makes one want to scream omfg h4x. Ugh, that hurt to type.
Out of curiosity, are you going to reveal the reason why Trizkel has that weird face thing?
Out of curiosity, are you going to reveal the reason why Trizkel has that weird face thing?
What is Project Zohar?
Here's to a certain mostly harmless nutcase.
Here's to a certain mostly harmless nutcase.
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Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
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- Location: The Tower at Charm
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Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11978
- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
The study was large and comfortable, but decorated with restraint. A modest set of book shelves covered one wall and a pair of tables were surrounded by well appolstered chairs and couches. Nalifan appropriated the chair closest to the massive fire place. Everyone else gave him a wide berth. Those who hadn't been here at the time had heard the stories.
"I think we have some problems," Trizkel began.
"No shit," Mikos replied. His eyes kept slipping to the fireplace. Sometimes it was easy to forget that Nalifan was raised drow, but that night he had been forcibly reminded. The seven had probably earned everything Nalifan had given them, but that didn't make being burned alive any less horrible. The drow had demanded that they give reasons to spare them and when they had failed to give satisfactory answers, he had thrown them in the fireplace and pinned them there until they died. It had bothered even Trizkel, who was drow by blood but not by upbringing.
"What about the trip you sent our friend on?" Kuuni asked. The svirfneblin's clothes had a drow cut and she was not at all bothered by Nalifan's cruel vengeance. She had seen far worse in her long captivity among the drow, an experience that had warped her psyche. She had Trizkel made quite the pair. The drow raised by gnomes and the gnome raised among drow.
Nalifan frowned. "He'll probably live. Getting dumped in an infinite ocean of holy water must have hurt alot, but Mikos's arrows didn't bite and he shrugged off my deadliest sorcery." He pulled back his right sleeve. A bracer of gleaming black adamantine studded with star sapphires was revealed. "And I was wearing Weave Binder. I doubt any celestials that showed up before he managed to leave could of managed to kill him."
The others stopped to digest this for a moment. Nalifan was a prodigy who had been expensively and exhaustively trained in the arts of war magic. His mother had brought in tutors from places as far away as Sshamath to turn her son into a weapon that would break her rivals. Magical defences and resistance to sorcery were obstacles Nalifan had trained almost all of his life to overcome, under the tutolage of some of the most learned and experienced teachers available.
"Kuuni's knife hurt him," Trizkel chipped in.
"True," said Nalifan, "but Kuuni's blade defies most of my attempts at investigation and contains both a malign intelligence and entropic energies that corrode the living, the unliving, and the undead. It is the deadliest weapon we own. And it maybe the only weapon we have capable of hurting it."
"What about Trizkel's blades?" Mikos asked.
"Possible, but-" He was interrupted by the door swinging open. A well built drow woman wearing a gown of electric blue silks and sable velvet entered, balancing a pair of immense silver trays. There was a smile on her face.
"Your guests are well attended to, my lord." She placed the trays down. They held pastries, a decanter of brandy, several small glasses, and bowls of strawberries mixed with whipped cream and sweetened choclatl syrup. "Although they are somewhat unsettled."
Nalifan smiled back. "Thank you Laerasis."
"You are welcome lord," She turned and left.
"I think she's interested in a promotion from chief steward to paramour," Kuuni quipped.
Trizkel laughed. "She prefers women. To our glorious leader's dismay."
"Ah, what can you say? It appears that one can get all kinds of grattitude from springing someone from a slave pen, but some things are beyond my reach."
"She would probably sleep with you anyway," Kuuni responded.
"Perhaps, but I prefer enthusiasm in my partners, even if it is bought with coin. Obligation leaves an ugly taste in my mouth and sexual exploitation has all sorts of negative effects on loyalty."
Mikos snorted. Kuuni quipped, "scrupples? From Nalifan? Who would have thought?" Nalifan threw a pastry at her. She plucked it out of the air and took a bite. "Thanks."
"So, back to the matter at hand," said Nalifan. "In thirty days we can expect a return visit from tall, red, and hideously powerful. The only weapon we know will hurt him is Kuuni's blade. Mindeater," he nodded at Trizkel, "may be able to hurt it. It was able to take my deadliest spell. We are unlikely to survive a repeat encounter. Suggestions?"
"We use the thirty days," said Mikos. "Find out what it is, what can kill it. "
Trizkel smiled. "Any specific suggestions?"
"Yes," replied Nalifan. "We move. We close the house, move the most valuable items, and send the staff into the Dales and Cormyr. I can use Mind Blank spells to hide us from scrying and buy us more time."
"What about our guests?"
"We travel with them to Vaasa and dig around at Tagronese. There's a reason that the trouble started there."
Trizkel nodded. "What about Elminster? You have some kind of arrangement with him, right?"
Nalifan shook his head. "He helped me once and that was after we had proven ourselves friends of the Dales. That's hardly a close alliance. And he's not around. I checked. Trizkel, if you could be kind enough to inform our guests of our decision, I'll inform the staff and start closing the house."
"I think we have some problems," Trizkel began.
"No shit," Mikos replied. His eyes kept slipping to the fireplace. Sometimes it was easy to forget that Nalifan was raised drow, but that night he had been forcibly reminded. The seven had probably earned everything Nalifan had given them, but that didn't make being burned alive any less horrible. The drow had demanded that they give reasons to spare them and when they had failed to give satisfactory answers, he had thrown them in the fireplace and pinned them there until they died. It had bothered even Trizkel, who was drow by blood but not by upbringing.
"What about the trip you sent our friend on?" Kuuni asked. The svirfneblin's clothes had a drow cut and she was not at all bothered by Nalifan's cruel vengeance. She had seen far worse in her long captivity among the drow, an experience that had warped her psyche. She had Trizkel made quite the pair. The drow raised by gnomes and the gnome raised among drow.
Nalifan frowned. "He'll probably live. Getting dumped in an infinite ocean of holy water must have hurt alot, but Mikos's arrows didn't bite and he shrugged off my deadliest sorcery." He pulled back his right sleeve. A bracer of gleaming black adamantine studded with star sapphires was revealed. "And I was wearing Weave Binder. I doubt any celestials that showed up before he managed to leave could of managed to kill him."
The others stopped to digest this for a moment. Nalifan was a prodigy who had been expensively and exhaustively trained in the arts of war magic. His mother had brought in tutors from places as far away as Sshamath to turn her son into a weapon that would break her rivals. Magical defences and resistance to sorcery were obstacles Nalifan had trained almost all of his life to overcome, under the tutolage of some of the most learned and experienced teachers available.
"Kuuni's knife hurt him," Trizkel chipped in.
"True," said Nalifan, "but Kuuni's blade defies most of my attempts at investigation and contains both a malign intelligence and entropic energies that corrode the living, the unliving, and the undead. It is the deadliest weapon we own. And it maybe the only weapon we have capable of hurting it."
"What about Trizkel's blades?" Mikos asked.
"Possible, but-" He was interrupted by the door swinging open. A well built drow woman wearing a gown of electric blue silks and sable velvet entered, balancing a pair of immense silver trays. There was a smile on her face.
"Your guests are well attended to, my lord." She placed the trays down. They held pastries, a decanter of brandy, several small glasses, and bowls of strawberries mixed with whipped cream and sweetened choclatl syrup. "Although they are somewhat unsettled."
Nalifan smiled back. "Thank you Laerasis."
"You are welcome lord," She turned and left.
"I think she's interested in a promotion from chief steward to paramour," Kuuni quipped.
Trizkel laughed. "She prefers women. To our glorious leader's dismay."
"Ah, what can you say? It appears that one can get all kinds of grattitude from springing someone from a slave pen, but some things are beyond my reach."
"She would probably sleep with you anyway," Kuuni responded.
"Perhaps, but I prefer enthusiasm in my partners, even if it is bought with coin. Obligation leaves an ugly taste in my mouth and sexual exploitation has all sorts of negative effects on loyalty."
Mikos snorted. Kuuni quipped, "scrupples? From Nalifan? Who would have thought?" Nalifan threw a pastry at her. She plucked it out of the air and took a bite. "Thanks."
"So, back to the matter at hand," said Nalifan. "In thirty days we can expect a return visit from tall, red, and hideously powerful. The only weapon we know will hurt him is Kuuni's blade. Mindeater," he nodded at Trizkel, "may be able to hurt it. It was able to take my deadliest spell. We are unlikely to survive a repeat encounter. Suggestions?"
"We use the thirty days," said Mikos. "Find out what it is, what can kill it. "
Trizkel smiled. "Any specific suggestions?"
"Yes," replied Nalifan. "We move. We close the house, move the most valuable items, and send the staff into the Dales and Cormyr. I can use Mind Blank spells to hide us from scrying and buy us more time."
"What about our guests?"
"We travel with them to Vaasa and dig around at Tagronese. There's a reason that the trouble started there."
Trizkel nodded. "What about Elminster? You have some kind of arrangement with him, right?"
Nalifan shook his head. "He helped me once and that was after we had proven ourselves friends of the Dales. That's hardly a close alliance. And he's not around. I checked. Trizkel, if you could be kind enough to inform our guests of our decision, I'll inform the staff and start closing the house."
Last edited by Imperial Overlord on 2005-10-07 03:07am, edited 2 times in total.
The Excellent Prismatic Spray. For when you absolutely, positively must kill a motherfucker. Accept no substitutions. Contact a magician of the later Aeons for details. Some conditions may apply.
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Imperial Overlord
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Trizkel waited until the others had gone to bed before returning to the study. Nalifan was still writing lists of what to take and where to put it. Neither of the elves truly slept, instead entering a state of reviere for a few hours. Trizkel needed even less, thanks to one of the magic rings attached to mummified hand that hung from his neck. "Whats your plan?"
"My plan?" asked Nalifan.
"It's been hours, you have a plan."
"True," Nalifan responded. "I scry up to Darmshall and we teleport everyone up there. Her retainers go to ground and you take Sylvetria with you up to Tagronese and look around."
"I'm not exactly ignorant on these matters, but you're the expert. Why aren't you going?"
"I'll catch up. Two reasons why you're leading the group. One, this thing," he said tapping on the skullplate. "Perfect vision. Cuts through all veils, pierces all shrouds, sees through absolute darkness and all the rest. Better than even what my sorcery can accomplish."
"It should," said Trizkel, "we paid a high enough price for it." The image of the albino priestess of Kiaranselee floated through his mind as he recalled the desperate battle against her. "So if there is anything to see, it'll be found. What is the other reason?"
"I'm going to pick up Thiddeus and it would be best if you weren't around."
Trizkel winced. "He doesn't like you much better than he likes me."
"Who's fault is that? Unlike you, I actually have some practice at persuading recalitrant individuals to follow my lead."
Trizkel shrugged. "He's not exactly your favorite person either. Why grab him?"
"A priest's talents will be useful. Do you recall which goddess recommended us?"
"Chauntea. Thiddeus's god."
"Right," responded Nalifan.
"How are you going to convince him after the . . .um . . wolf incident."
"Nobody likes a powerful fiend showing up nearby. And then there is the role of his goddess in this mess."
"Which you will undoubtedly emphasize."
"The truth is a very effective instrument," The two drow shared a smile.
"What about Phyr?" Trizkel asked.
"Lolth take the Thayan. We don't have time to clean up his messes or stroke his ego. At least Thiddeus's problems are easy to handle."
------------------------------------------------------------------
Dawn broke and a few members of the household stirred Their master prefered to complete his reviere in the early afternoon, which somewhat altered the nature of the breakfast. Unusually, Nalifan had retired shortly before dawn.
He entered the dining hall just as Sylvetria was finishing up. Mikos was just on his way out. She looked up at him.
"So, you've decided to help." Lady Sylvetria tone was quite cool. "I'm not as sure that I want it."
Nalifan shrugged. He was wearing an overcoat of soft black leather over crimson and ebony silks. "And I didn't want a massively powerful fiend with well equipped elite vrock bodyguards showing up on my doorstep. Try and live with it." She smoldered.
"You didn't have to break Borys's jaw."
"Of course, I should tolerate disrespect from my inferiors and permit slights upon my person and dignity. While I'm at it, I should regard goblins as my equals and surrender to the superior judgement of the Matron Mothers."
Her eyes were flinty. He continued. "If he hasn't learned to speak carefully around wizards it is past time he learned."
"I supposse I don't have much choice at this point."
"There is as a saying I've picked up, 'when you have the tiger by the tail you must either ride or die.' I suggest riding."
"My plan?" asked Nalifan.
"It's been hours, you have a plan."
"True," Nalifan responded. "I scry up to Darmshall and we teleport everyone up there. Her retainers go to ground and you take Sylvetria with you up to Tagronese and look around."
"I'm not exactly ignorant on these matters, but you're the expert. Why aren't you going?"
"I'll catch up. Two reasons why you're leading the group. One, this thing," he said tapping on the skullplate. "Perfect vision. Cuts through all veils, pierces all shrouds, sees through absolute darkness and all the rest. Better than even what my sorcery can accomplish."
"It should," said Trizkel, "we paid a high enough price for it." The image of the albino priestess of Kiaranselee floated through his mind as he recalled the desperate battle against her. "So if there is anything to see, it'll be found. What is the other reason?"
"I'm going to pick up Thiddeus and it would be best if you weren't around."
Trizkel winced. "He doesn't like you much better than he likes me."
"Who's fault is that? Unlike you, I actually have some practice at persuading recalitrant individuals to follow my lead."
Trizkel shrugged. "He's not exactly your favorite person either. Why grab him?"
"A priest's talents will be useful. Do you recall which goddess recommended us?"
"Chauntea. Thiddeus's god."
"Right," responded Nalifan.
"How are you going to convince him after the . . .um . . wolf incident."
"Nobody likes a powerful fiend showing up nearby. And then there is the role of his goddess in this mess."
"Which you will undoubtedly emphasize."
"The truth is a very effective instrument," The two drow shared a smile.
"What about Phyr?" Trizkel asked.
"Lolth take the Thayan. We don't have time to clean up his messes or stroke his ego. At least Thiddeus's problems are easy to handle."
------------------------------------------------------------------
Dawn broke and a few members of the household stirred Their master prefered to complete his reviere in the early afternoon, which somewhat altered the nature of the breakfast. Unusually, Nalifan had retired shortly before dawn.
He entered the dining hall just as Sylvetria was finishing up. Mikos was just on his way out. She looked up at him.
"So, you've decided to help." Lady Sylvetria tone was quite cool. "I'm not as sure that I want it."
Nalifan shrugged. He was wearing an overcoat of soft black leather over crimson and ebony silks. "And I didn't want a massively powerful fiend with well equipped elite vrock bodyguards showing up on my doorstep. Try and live with it." She smoldered.
"You didn't have to break Borys's jaw."
"Of course, I should tolerate disrespect from my inferiors and permit slights upon my person and dignity. While I'm at it, I should regard goblins as my equals and surrender to the superior judgement of the Matron Mothers."
Her eyes were flinty. He continued. "If he hasn't learned to speak carefully around wizards it is past time he learned."
"I supposse I don't have much choice at this point."
"There is as a saying I've picked up, 'when you have the tiger by the tail you must either ride or die.' I suggest riding."
Last edited by Imperial Overlord on 2005-07-29 10:38pm, edited 3 times in total.
The Excellent Prismatic Spray. For when you absolutely, positively must kill a motherfucker. Accept no substitutions. Contact a magician of the later Aeons for details. Some conditions may apply.
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Imperial Overlord
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The air cracked, shimmered, and blew away, displaced by their arrival. Nearly a full score of people, the adventurers and Sylvetria's band, arrived courtesy of Nalifan's wizardry. The sun was warm upon their skin, but the brisk breeze was cold.
Trizkel closed his mortal eye and gazed around with his matchless vision.. Nalifan and Kuuni wore lenses of smoked glass supported by gold frames. "So this is what summer is like in southern Vaasa," Nalifan quipped. "Wonderful. At the the weather in the Dalelands manages to be pleasant most of the time."
"It isn't summer yet," Sylvetria replied. "It's still spring."
Nalifan craned his neck. A vast steppe lay before them, marked by trees here and there, and bordered by mountains to south and the west. Directly south of them lay a large village that abutted the mountains. It's walls were compossed of massive stone blocks and climbed thrity feet in the air. "Right on target," Nalifan smirked.
"Unlike last time," Kuuni responded.
"What do I look like, a wood elf? One bunch of trees looks a lot like another?"
"I will admit to being impressed wizard," Sylvetria admitted.
"You haven't seen my best tricks yet. Anyway, I'm off to go recruit Thiddeus."
"Good luck with that," said Mikos.
"Thanks." He spoke the initiator of anothe spell and was gone.
"Now what is the plan?" Sylvetria asked.
Trizkel spoke. "You and Mikos go down there and let the good people of Darmshall know that I'm friendly. We get some horses and supplies, get your people to go to ground, talk to that priest, and head up to Tagronese."
"Alright," she said and dismounted. "Let's go."
The Dalesman matched her pace and the soon left the group behind. "So, you are content to let Nalifan lead you."
"He does it well," Mikos responded. "Just ask him. He'll tell you in detail."
"I'm sure he would. Modesty does not seem to be one of his virtues."
"Pride," he grunted. "But he's about as good as he thinks he is."
"But you trust him."
"Yes. We'd all be dead if it wasn't for him."
"You know that for sure?"
"We were all dead or as good as when he came back for us."
"I see." She paused. "But he doesn't see you as his equal."
"He doesn't even see Trizkel as his equal. He's brilliant, deadly, our planner, and our negotiator. He and Trizkel carry the most weight. They claim the bigget cut. And they deserve it."
"And you?"
"I carry my own end and my share isn't anything to sneer at. I've got skills they lack and some they share. And they have my back. They stole me back from death and that wasn't cheap. I got my full share on top of that. Expenses off the top and we try to get everybody back alive."
"How does Trizkel feel about being Nalifan's inferior?"
"What younger brother isn't impressed by his elder? Doesn't bother Trizkel at all. Nalifan's treats him like the rest of us, with respect. With Nalifan, inferiority just means you aren't his equal, not that you should be treated like garbage. But it goes both ways. If you don't respect him, you had better fear him. Cross him and you had better pray for a quick death, because he isn't going to give you one."
"And this Thiddeus?"
"That's a long story. Let's make nice for the gate guards."
--------------------------------------------------------------
Nalifan moved past the herd of goats and the wary watchers. At least four men and two women had bows drawn on him. The Stag tribe was related to the fierce raiders that had helped sack Zhentil Keep, but less aggressive. That didn't make them fools, although in one case Nalifan would beg to differ.
Magic allowed the drow to use their native tongue. He was a stranger and not even human, but these were a people so remote that they did not know drow. They knew raiders of all kinds, humans, giants, and orcs. Still, they had reluctantly taken back to their camp upon hearing his request. What kind of madman would take on a whole tribe with a thin sword and a tiny crossbow?
Thiddeus emerged from his tent. The was six feet tall, well built, with brown hair and brown eyes. A short russet beard sprouted from his chin. A rod of twisted oak in his belt and a longsword hung from the other side. He wore grease stained leathers over a coat of mithril mail. His first word was almost a curse. "Nalifan." He spat.
"What a pleasant welcome. I can guarrantee I would give you a warmer one at my house."
"I want nothing more to do with you. I do like how the superior has come crawling to his inferior."
Nalifan smiled slightly. "I guess the will of your goddess isn't important to you then."
"What are you talking about?" Thiddeus barked.
"A matter I have become involved in. Apparently I was specifically brought into it by Chauntea. At this point I don't know if she wanted me involved because it would bring in you, or because she knew I could handle the job, or for some other reasons. If you are uninterested in fighting demonic evil threatening the northlands. feel free to count yourself out. Although that makes your precious moral superiority rather difficult to maintain."
"You're lying."
"When have I ever lied to you? You should know better. I tell you truths you don't want to hear."
"And why does the oh so mighty and brilliant Nalifan want my aid?"
"Because this foe is mighty and your goddess is involved."
"Why should I help you. You stole my rightful amount of treasure and you betrayed me!" Bows were drawn back. Blades were bared. They had gathered quite a crowd and Thiddeus's words weren't making them happy.
"Get them to stand down before this gets ugly," Nalifan said calmly. "You know what will happen if violence starts."
Thiddeus made a motion with his hands. The crowd settled. "There! Are you happy that you made me acknowledge your power?"
Nalifan shrugged. "Tell me if you did carried even half my load. Or Trizkel's. Did you slay any nightshades? Did you down a dragon? Did you finish a balor or a lich? No, none of those things. Your spells were too weak to bite our foes and your recklessness in battle far exceeded your skills. And we restored you from the dead. You walked away with a Matron's ransom in treasure. And what did you do? You gave most of it to a prosperous temple in Sembia and then carried the remainder up here. And you complain of being cheated."
"And my dead friends? What are they?"
"Not my doing as you well know. And for what came after, it is Trizkel that you are wroth with, not I. So tell me Thiddeus, do you yell at the man who made you rich and protected you from assassins or do you serve your goddess and protect your people?"
He ground his teeth. "There is no choice. I'll go with you."
Trizkel closed his mortal eye and gazed around with his matchless vision.. Nalifan and Kuuni wore lenses of smoked glass supported by gold frames. "So this is what summer is like in southern Vaasa," Nalifan quipped. "Wonderful. At the the weather in the Dalelands manages to be pleasant most of the time."
"It isn't summer yet," Sylvetria replied. "It's still spring."
Nalifan craned his neck. A vast steppe lay before them, marked by trees here and there, and bordered by mountains to south and the west. Directly south of them lay a large village that abutted the mountains. It's walls were compossed of massive stone blocks and climbed thrity feet in the air. "Right on target," Nalifan smirked.
"Unlike last time," Kuuni responded.
"What do I look like, a wood elf? One bunch of trees looks a lot like another?"
"I will admit to being impressed wizard," Sylvetria admitted.
"You haven't seen my best tricks yet. Anyway, I'm off to go recruit Thiddeus."
"Good luck with that," said Mikos.
"Thanks." He spoke the initiator of anothe spell and was gone.
"Now what is the plan?" Sylvetria asked.
Trizkel spoke. "You and Mikos go down there and let the good people of Darmshall know that I'm friendly. We get some horses and supplies, get your people to go to ground, talk to that priest, and head up to Tagronese."
"Alright," she said and dismounted. "Let's go."
The Dalesman matched her pace and the soon left the group behind. "So, you are content to let Nalifan lead you."
"He does it well," Mikos responded. "Just ask him. He'll tell you in detail."
"I'm sure he would. Modesty does not seem to be one of his virtues."
"Pride," he grunted. "But he's about as good as he thinks he is."
"But you trust him."
"Yes. We'd all be dead if it wasn't for him."
"You know that for sure?"
"We were all dead or as good as when he came back for us."
"I see." She paused. "But he doesn't see you as his equal."
"He doesn't even see Trizkel as his equal. He's brilliant, deadly, our planner, and our negotiator. He and Trizkel carry the most weight. They claim the bigget cut. And they deserve it."
"And you?"
"I carry my own end and my share isn't anything to sneer at. I've got skills they lack and some they share. And they have my back. They stole me back from death and that wasn't cheap. I got my full share on top of that. Expenses off the top and we try to get everybody back alive."
"How does Trizkel feel about being Nalifan's inferior?"
"What younger brother isn't impressed by his elder? Doesn't bother Trizkel at all. Nalifan's treats him like the rest of us, with respect. With Nalifan, inferiority just means you aren't his equal, not that you should be treated like garbage. But it goes both ways. If you don't respect him, you had better fear him. Cross him and you had better pray for a quick death, because he isn't going to give you one."
"And this Thiddeus?"
"That's a long story. Let's make nice for the gate guards."
--------------------------------------------------------------
Nalifan moved past the herd of goats and the wary watchers. At least four men and two women had bows drawn on him. The Stag tribe was related to the fierce raiders that had helped sack Zhentil Keep, but less aggressive. That didn't make them fools, although in one case Nalifan would beg to differ.
Magic allowed the drow to use their native tongue. He was a stranger and not even human, but these were a people so remote that they did not know drow. They knew raiders of all kinds, humans, giants, and orcs. Still, they had reluctantly taken back to their camp upon hearing his request. What kind of madman would take on a whole tribe with a thin sword and a tiny crossbow?
Thiddeus emerged from his tent. The was six feet tall, well built, with brown hair and brown eyes. A short russet beard sprouted from his chin. A rod of twisted oak in his belt and a longsword hung from the other side. He wore grease stained leathers over a coat of mithril mail. His first word was almost a curse. "Nalifan." He spat.
"What a pleasant welcome. I can guarrantee I would give you a warmer one at my house."
"I want nothing more to do with you. I do like how the superior has come crawling to his inferior."
Nalifan smiled slightly. "I guess the will of your goddess isn't important to you then."
"What are you talking about?" Thiddeus barked.
"A matter I have become involved in. Apparently I was specifically brought into it by Chauntea. At this point I don't know if she wanted me involved because it would bring in you, or because she knew I could handle the job, or for some other reasons. If you are uninterested in fighting demonic evil threatening the northlands. feel free to count yourself out. Although that makes your precious moral superiority rather difficult to maintain."
"You're lying."
"When have I ever lied to you? You should know better. I tell you truths you don't want to hear."
"And why does the oh so mighty and brilliant Nalifan want my aid?"
"Because this foe is mighty and your goddess is involved."
"Why should I help you. You stole my rightful amount of treasure and you betrayed me!" Bows were drawn back. Blades were bared. They had gathered quite a crowd and Thiddeus's words weren't making them happy.
"Get them to stand down before this gets ugly," Nalifan said calmly. "You know what will happen if violence starts."
Thiddeus made a motion with his hands. The crowd settled. "There! Are you happy that you made me acknowledge your power?"
Nalifan shrugged. "Tell me if you did carried even half my load. Or Trizkel's. Did you slay any nightshades? Did you down a dragon? Did you finish a balor or a lich? No, none of those things. Your spells were too weak to bite our foes and your recklessness in battle far exceeded your skills. And we restored you from the dead. You walked away with a Matron's ransom in treasure. And what did you do? You gave most of it to a prosperous temple in Sembia and then carried the remainder up here. And you complain of being cheated."
"And my dead friends? What are they?"
"Not my doing as you well know. And for what came after, it is Trizkel that you are wroth with, not I. So tell me Thiddeus, do you yell at the man who made you rich and protected you from assassins or do you serve your goddess and protect your people?"
He ground his teeth. "There is no choice. I'll go with you."
Last edited by Imperial Overlord on 2005-07-30 05:22am, edited 1 time in total.
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- Location: The real number domain
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Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11978
- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
I believe it is called the Eyes of Arachnia, but it's on Chris's character sheet, not mine.
As for art it can be seen in this picture, still attached to that heinous albino priestess.
+http://www.wizards.com/dnd/images/COTSQ ... 24x768.jpg
As for art it can be seen in this picture, still attached to that heinous albino priestess.
+http://www.wizards.com/dnd/images/COTSQ ... 24x768.jpg
The Excellent Prismatic Spray. For when you absolutely, positively must kill a motherfucker. Accept no substitutions. Contact a magician of the later Aeons for details. Some conditions may apply.
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Ford Prefect
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 8254
- Joined: 2005-05-16 04:08am
- Location: The real number domain
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Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11978
- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
It only comes off when you're dead. Trizkel got the finishing blows in because she made every single god damn saving throw versus my spells, despite the fact that I cleverly hit her with the ones that she wasn't protected from. She trashed the entire party. She was a worthy boss and that whole damn adventure is really tough.
The Excellent Prismatic Spray. For when you absolutely, positively must kill a motherfucker. Accept no substitutions. Contact a magician of the later Aeons for details. Some conditions may apply.
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Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11978
- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
Darmshall wasn't a large city, but it had the hustle and bustle of one. The fortified town was full of traders, mercenaries, merchants, farmers, herders, opportunisits, adventurers, craftsmen, and labourers of all types. More than half of the population was human, but a substantial number were burly dwarves or hulking half-orcs. They yelled and laughed from stone or timber buildings and through the muddy streets.
Sylvetria lead them through the streets. They past haggling horse traders, trappers, miners, and prospectors. Five half orcs carrying an arsenal of weapons and wrapped in heavy furs gave them the evil eye as they past by. Sylvetria pointed to a two story timber building of recent contrustuction. "There," she said.
He armored fist hit the door and it opened. More of her retainers were inside, as were several men and women who were clearly not warriors. "My lady, you're back," said the stocky warrior who opened the door.
"Yes, I am." The whole room had started to buzz with activity. A boy headed upstairs. "How fares my father?"
A modestly dressed middle-aged man responded. "Better, lady. The priests have been able to help him. He begins to recover his strength."
"And a good thing too," came a voice from the stairs. A tall woman with broad shoulders descended from the second floor. Her brown hair was shot through with white. "Managing this bunch is hard enough with help. Welcom back, my daughter."
Sylvetria bowed slightly. "Thank you mother."
"I see you found the foreigners."
"Yes," she replied. "This is Trizkel, Mikos, and . . . where is Kuuni?"
Trizkel spoke. "Probably getting into trouble."
-------------------------------------------------------------
Nalifan spread a folded circle of cloth upon the grass and reached into it as if it was a hole in the fabric of space, which is was. He pulled a large bundle out and began to unwrap it.
Several adults and more than a few children watched him from a distance. A few silver coins rose up and flew in their midst. Tiny dragons composed of glowing red and blue ether chased after them as Nalifan assembled his tent.
Thiddeus may have accepted right away, but that didn't mean that the rulers of the Stag tribe were just going to accept it. They were holding council and it didn't sound like it was going to be resolved anytime soon. So Nalifan, who had suspected something like this might happen, settled in.
The tent wasn't large, big enough to hold two people comfortably or three in a pinch, but its sleek rain resistant fabric made it quite comfortable in all but the most unpleasant weather. By the time he had finished assembling it, the children had been able to catch the coins and the dragons had faded away.
He spoke an initiator and took to the sky. He ranged several miles past the herd before spotting a young elk and downing it with a flurry of jagged black force darts. He took the animal back to camp, cut off a few large slices, and gave the remainder to the tribe. He was soon resting his pieces over a fire.
After his meal, Nalifan retired to his tent. The sun was setting as he cracked opened a book and began to read. He didn't get to far into it before he heard footsteps outside his tent. He spoke a word and a ball of pale blue witch light hoverd at the top of the tent. "Enter," he said.
A bow legged human who's hair was dark brown streaked by grey, ducked his head and entered. He wore leathers and had a heavy blade hanging from his waste. His mustaches were untouched by grey and he held a leather flask in one hand. The odor of sour milk was strong.
"I wish to speak with you."
"Come in and sit down. Who are you?"
"Yezra the Elder. Thiddeus is my nephew." He held forth the skin. "I would drink with you."
"Your offer is generous, but I'll pass," said Nalifan. "I've tried femented milk. Not an experience I choose to repeat." Yezra simmered. The drow pulled out a bottle. "Sembian brandy. Want any?"
The nomad shook his head. Nalifan poured himself a glass. "What do you want?"
"You are a Thiddeus said you were and you are not. I wanted to know more."
"Ahh," said Nalifan. "Wise. I will answer you questions, if you will answer mine."
"A question for a question. Agreed. I will begin." Nalifan smiled. He liked the way this nomad seized the initiative. "How great is this danger?"
"It has some freedom of movement. If it decided to annhilate your tribe, it could. If it becomes more free to act, no power north of Zhentil Keep can withstand it."
The nomad nodded and took a pull from his skin. "When did Thiddeus become different?"
"He had the first vision when he was six," Yezra replied. He says you cheated him."
"The leader and the best warriors get a better share than the worst warrior," Nalifan replied. "He was sheltered from the world, wasn't he?"
"Yes. After the power came upon him, he would use it sometimes. He also practiced with weapons. He was good. But he spent most of his time waiting for another vision, or chasing them. He was a chief's son and my nephew, he should have been given to me. But the Shaman disagreed. So he chased visions instead of learning to become a man." Nalifan sipped his brandy. "He says you think humans are sheep."
"The strong are not the equals of the weak, the brilliant are not the equals of fools. He learned some of the arts of war and gained some friends, but he's still soft. He did mix with the tribe, he did learn skills, but he wasn't part of daily life. Correct?"
"Yes. What chief's son lacks friends? He always picked up skills quickly, but his father's indulgence and the shaman's will allowed him to pursue these visions. But he had few and nothing came of them, until the Weatherstone was taken." Another sip. "He says you betrayed him and let his friends die unavenged."
"No," replied Nalifan. He took a long sip. "After we divided up the treasure of our enemies, the least among us had the ransom of a dwarven prince. Your nephew decided to give nine tenths of his money to some random church of Chauntea and head back here." He saw the nomad's eyes widen in surprise.
"So, as I understand it, he came back here and decided to join your annual trade caravan to Dambrath and Narfell. You sell mostly livestock, correct? Anyway, he awakens one night to find an elephant sized winter wolf standing over him and demanding a few horses from him as tribute. He decides to fight. The wolf kills all of his friends and takes what it wants. He survives somehow."
"That's where I come in. I contact him on a seperate matter and he wants help running down and killing these wolves. I need to do other things, so Trizkel and Mikos go to do the job."
"After a rather nasty incident involving assassins in Sembia, Trizkel was not particularily impressed with Mikos's or Thiddeus's tactical skills. So after Mikos tracks the winter wolf to its den, he tells them that he will only be watching. If they want to win, they've got to do more than pull back on a bow string or swing a sword."
"It goes horribly wrong, of course. The wolf has a mate and the strategy they decide upon was nothing more than a flanking attack. Mikos's tries to buy some room, but it doesn't work. The wolves rip into them. So Trizkel goes into their den and hauls out a pair of pups. The wolves back down and Trizkel marches them out of their." Nalifan lingered for a moment.
"From Trizkel's point of view, revenge was pointless. The wolf just wanted a few horses. Thiddeus should have just given them up. Instead he fought a stronger foe and his friends died. The wolves are hunters and he has no problem with that. Thiddeus felt otherwise."
"But he just gave up. He has recruited no heros to help him, sought out no wealth to hire mercenaries to assist him, and made no bargains for aid. How much does this really matter to him?"
Yezra spoke. "What would you have done?"
"Yielded to a superior foe and not wasted the lives of my friends. If they did fall, gather whatever strength was necessary, hunt down my foe, and slay him. And I'm owed two questions. He rarely used his divine powers?"
Yezra nodded. "He would use them when needed, but he did not practice as the shaman wanted. He would not hone his skills. Instead he would chase visions."
"What is the will of the tribe?"
"Thiddeus is mighty, but not of the tribe. He has grown apart and he is not truly home here, even if of our blood. He should fight this evil." The old warrior took another drag of fermented milk. "What do you believe is the truth about him? Is he truly favored by the goddess?"
"He was marked for his potential, but then he spent all of his time chasing visions. He failed to develop his powers, only growing in strength slowly as he was forced to use them in the Underdark. He has only gotten a few visions, because she has abandoned a broken tool. Now she has picked him up agan, but he is weak. Soft, spoilled, petulent, and self righteous. She will have to remake him. And before she can do that she must break him down, with all the cruelty of an executioner breaking bones with an iron bar."
Sylvetria lead them through the streets. They past haggling horse traders, trappers, miners, and prospectors. Five half orcs carrying an arsenal of weapons and wrapped in heavy furs gave them the evil eye as they past by. Sylvetria pointed to a two story timber building of recent contrustuction. "There," she said.
He armored fist hit the door and it opened. More of her retainers were inside, as were several men and women who were clearly not warriors. "My lady, you're back," said the stocky warrior who opened the door.
"Yes, I am." The whole room had started to buzz with activity. A boy headed upstairs. "How fares my father?"
A modestly dressed middle-aged man responded. "Better, lady. The priests have been able to help him. He begins to recover his strength."
"And a good thing too," came a voice from the stairs. A tall woman with broad shoulders descended from the second floor. Her brown hair was shot through with white. "Managing this bunch is hard enough with help. Welcom back, my daughter."
Sylvetria bowed slightly. "Thank you mother."
"I see you found the foreigners."
"Yes," she replied. "This is Trizkel, Mikos, and . . . where is Kuuni?"
Trizkel spoke. "Probably getting into trouble."
-------------------------------------------------------------
Nalifan spread a folded circle of cloth upon the grass and reached into it as if it was a hole in the fabric of space, which is was. He pulled a large bundle out and began to unwrap it.
Several adults and more than a few children watched him from a distance. A few silver coins rose up and flew in their midst. Tiny dragons composed of glowing red and blue ether chased after them as Nalifan assembled his tent.
Thiddeus may have accepted right away, but that didn't mean that the rulers of the Stag tribe were just going to accept it. They were holding council and it didn't sound like it was going to be resolved anytime soon. So Nalifan, who had suspected something like this might happen, settled in.
The tent wasn't large, big enough to hold two people comfortably or three in a pinch, but its sleek rain resistant fabric made it quite comfortable in all but the most unpleasant weather. By the time he had finished assembling it, the children had been able to catch the coins and the dragons had faded away.
He spoke an initiator and took to the sky. He ranged several miles past the herd before spotting a young elk and downing it with a flurry of jagged black force darts. He took the animal back to camp, cut off a few large slices, and gave the remainder to the tribe. He was soon resting his pieces over a fire.
After his meal, Nalifan retired to his tent. The sun was setting as he cracked opened a book and began to read. He didn't get to far into it before he heard footsteps outside his tent. He spoke a word and a ball of pale blue witch light hoverd at the top of the tent. "Enter," he said.
A bow legged human who's hair was dark brown streaked by grey, ducked his head and entered. He wore leathers and had a heavy blade hanging from his waste. His mustaches were untouched by grey and he held a leather flask in one hand. The odor of sour milk was strong.
"I wish to speak with you."
"Come in and sit down. Who are you?"
"Yezra the Elder. Thiddeus is my nephew." He held forth the skin. "I would drink with you."
"Your offer is generous, but I'll pass," said Nalifan. "I've tried femented milk. Not an experience I choose to repeat." Yezra simmered. The drow pulled out a bottle. "Sembian brandy. Want any?"
The nomad shook his head. Nalifan poured himself a glass. "What do you want?"
"You are a Thiddeus said you were and you are not. I wanted to know more."
"Ahh," said Nalifan. "Wise. I will answer you questions, if you will answer mine."
"A question for a question. Agreed. I will begin." Nalifan smiled. He liked the way this nomad seized the initiative. "How great is this danger?"
"It has some freedom of movement. If it decided to annhilate your tribe, it could. If it becomes more free to act, no power north of Zhentil Keep can withstand it."
The nomad nodded and took a pull from his skin. "When did Thiddeus become different?"
"He had the first vision when he was six," Yezra replied. He says you cheated him."
"The leader and the best warriors get a better share than the worst warrior," Nalifan replied. "He was sheltered from the world, wasn't he?"
"Yes. After the power came upon him, he would use it sometimes. He also practiced with weapons. He was good. But he spent most of his time waiting for another vision, or chasing them. He was a chief's son and my nephew, he should have been given to me. But the Shaman disagreed. So he chased visions instead of learning to become a man." Nalifan sipped his brandy. "He says you think humans are sheep."
"The strong are not the equals of the weak, the brilliant are not the equals of fools. He learned some of the arts of war and gained some friends, but he's still soft. He did mix with the tribe, he did learn skills, but he wasn't part of daily life. Correct?"
"Yes. What chief's son lacks friends? He always picked up skills quickly, but his father's indulgence and the shaman's will allowed him to pursue these visions. But he had few and nothing came of them, until the Weatherstone was taken." Another sip. "He says you betrayed him and let his friends die unavenged."
"No," replied Nalifan. He took a long sip. "After we divided up the treasure of our enemies, the least among us had the ransom of a dwarven prince. Your nephew decided to give nine tenths of his money to some random church of Chauntea and head back here." He saw the nomad's eyes widen in surprise.
"So, as I understand it, he came back here and decided to join your annual trade caravan to Dambrath and Narfell. You sell mostly livestock, correct? Anyway, he awakens one night to find an elephant sized winter wolf standing over him and demanding a few horses from him as tribute. He decides to fight. The wolf kills all of his friends and takes what it wants. He survives somehow."
"That's where I come in. I contact him on a seperate matter and he wants help running down and killing these wolves. I need to do other things, so Trizkel and Mikos go to do the job."
"After a rather nasty incident involving assassins in Sembia, Trizkel was not particularily impressed with Mikos's or Thiddeus's tactical skills. So after Mikos tracks the winter wolf to its den, he tells them that he will only be watching. If they want to win, they've got to do more than pull back on a bow string or swing a sword."
"It goes horribly wrong, of course. The wolf has a mate and the strategy they decide upon was nothing more than a flanking attack. Mikos's tries to buy some room, but it doesn't work. The wolves rip into them. So Trizkel goes into their den and hauls out a pair of pups. The wolves back down and Trizkel marches them out of their." Nalifan lingered for a moment.
"From Trizkel's point of view, revenge was pointless. The wolf just wanted a few horses. Thiddeus should have just given them up. Instead he fought a stronger foe and his friends died. The wolves are hunters and he has no problem with that. Thiddeus felt otherwise."
"But he just gave up. He has recruited no heros to help him, sought out no wealth to hire mercenaries to assist him, and made no bargains for aid. How much does this really matter to him?"
Yezra spoke. "What would you have done?"
"Yielded to a superior foe and not wasted the lives of my friends. If they did fall, gather whatever strength was necessary, hunt down my foe, and slay him. And I'm owed two questions. He rarely used his divine powers?"
Yezra nodded. "He would use them when needed, but he did not practice as the shaman wanted. He would not hone his skills. Instead he would chase visions."
"What is the will of the tribe?"
"Thiddeus is mighty, but not of the tribe. He has grown apart and he is not truly home here, even if of our blood. He should fight this evil." The old warrior took another drag of fermented milk. "What do you believe is the truth about him? Is he truly favored by the goddess?"
"He was marked for his potential, but then he spent all of his time chasing visions. He failed to develop his powers, only growing in strength slowly as he was forced to use them in the Underdark. He has only gotten a few visions, because she has abandoned a broken tool. Now she has picked him up agan, but he is weak. Soft, spoilled, petulent, and self righteous. She will have to remake him. And before she can do that she must break him down, with all the cruelty of an executioner breaking bones with an iron bar."
The Excellent Prismatic Spray. For when you absolutely, positively must kill a motherfucker. Accept no substitutions. Contact a magician of the later Aeons for details. Some conditions may apply.
-
NecronLord
- Harbinger of Doom
- Posts: 27383
- Joined: 2002-07-07 06:30am
- Location: The Lost City
Humm. I'm enjoying this, though I preffer the bit in the Writers Guild, for fanboy reasons. 
Superior Moderator - BotB - HAB [Drill Instructor]-Writer- Stardestroyer.net's resident Star-God.
"We believe in the systematic understanding of the physical world through observation and experimentation, argument and debate and most of all freedom of will." ~ Stargate: The Ark of Truth
"We believe in the systematic understanding of the physical world through observation and experimentation, argument and debate and most of all freedom of will." ~ Stargate: The Ark of Truth
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Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11978
- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
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Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11978
- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
Mikos looked over the horses. The half orcs looked back at him. "Pretty good. I've seen better. Five for each."
The big one with no scars laughed. The one who's face was marked by lightning like scars and sword cuts smiled, showing a broken tusk. The others didn't do anything. The tall one, who was lean under the mail coat, laughed. "My brothers and I didn't drive our herd all the way from Narfell just to take five. Look at them! Tall, sturdy steeds; not the local runts. You're a big man, you need a swift horse, not a pony! And they're tough too. Not like the southern breeds. Fifteen I might consider."
"Fifteen? For a horse? I thought we were talking gold, although I will certainly pay twenty silvers for one."
The tall one grinned. "Where are you going to find better, little man?" There was nothing small about Mikos. He was half a foot shorter than the half-orc, but Rhazag was close to seven feet.
"Eight," countered Mikos.
"Thirteen."
"Ten."
"Eleven."
"Done." Mikos began to count gold into the half-orc's table.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Kuuni slipped through the crowd, eyes at waste level to the humans and half-orcs. The dwarves were closer to her level, but they were more aware in general and kept their interesting possessions well guarded. More of a challenge.
She wasn't going out to steal, not that she would turn down an easy opportunity, but to get the lay of the town. It was busy and bustling as the weather had finally become good enough to allow travel a few weeks back. For southerners Vaasa had little worth the trip except for bloodstone, but then Vaasa had a lot of bloodstone. Prospectors, merchants, and fortune seekers came up from the south while traders from all around came to great them and sell their wares in this small city.
They weren't very many woman here, which a simple headcount would confirm. There were a few brothels and they seemed to be doing booming business. A few years in the north where hard currency was plentiful and women few could earn a daring whoremaster quite the fortune, if raiders didn't get him first.
Kuuni cared nothing for this. Such concerns bored her. So she sat on stool on the second story of a foor story tavern/whorehouse and watched the various traders, muelskinners, merceneries, and sundry locals come in and visit the facilities. The most common choices seemed to be getting smashed, followed by getting smashed and attempting to have sex with a prostitute while in an inebriated state. This naturally lead to some performance based dissatisfaction on the part of some of the clientel and kept the huge half-orc bouncers busy.
But that didn't hold her interest. Not even the small brawl that errupted really moved her. She was watching the man down on the main floor, show sat in the corner and occassionally played a game of mummbly peg, while sipping his bear. The speed and control he possessed as he stabbed between his fingers impressed her, but what really caught her attention was the deference servers and the bouncers gave him. She had found a hub and the hub was the center of the wheel.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Mikos had paid the hostler and was making sure the horses were settled into their stalls when the barn door opened. He pretended not to notice that it was accompanied by the sound of a lot of humanoid feet and no horses hooves. Their wasn't a sound from the hostler. He could hear several of them stepping forward as he patted the horse on the nose. Then he spun around, his hands already moving.
There was seven of them, all with scarves pulled up around their mouths and hoods to help hid their faces. One had was hiding a light crossbow behind his cloak and was guarding the hostler, a man who was on the far side of fifty who carried far too much weight around his gut. There was another next to him, with a crossbow ready to be pointed his way.
The other five were strolling down past the stalls toward him. The were on the opposite side as their buddy, to make sure he had a clear line of fire. They drew swords and axes as he moved. No need for stealth now.
The thieves had been drawn by the gold they had seen in the streets. One man carrying such wealth, no matter how tough, was too tempting a target. Mikos knew all about targets. The crossbowman got his bow up faster than Mikos could draw his and fire, but not so quickly that Mikos couldn't use his friends as cover.
A to the side of the knee dislocated the knee cap and a thief went down hard. He swept aside a striking axe with his shortsword and ran his long blade through another thief's lung. Hardened leather provided no resistance at all to the supernaturally sharp blade. The thief fell back, severely injured.
A sword struck Mikos's arm hard enough to hurt. He took two steps back, leaving the two wounded out of reach. Two pressed him hard while the other moved the flank on his exposed side. Mikos took the axe man in the center. An overhand blow forced a high parry. The other man moved to strike his exposed side with a longsword. Mikos feinted at the sword wielder with his shortsword, drove his boot hard into the axe man's stomach, and sliced the swordman across the thighs. The blade bit almost to the bone. He dropped howling. Mikos twisted to meet the flanker. The man took a wary step backwards. Then another. And another.
Mikos sidestepped to keep him between him and the crossbowmen. Then he dropped his blades. The flanker hesitated and then drove forward. Mikos slapped his sword away with his bow. Not the best way to treat a bow, but it could take it. The six foot long weapon was midnight black and engraved with silver runes. It was a magical as most people thought it would be.
He seized an arrow and she smacked his bow into the thief's head, droping him. He took a step to the side as he drew back the bow, causing a bolt to miss him by inches. He was faster than the other. He put a shaft through his throat and then another through the spine of the other crossbowman as he tried to run.
Kneecap gave him a dirty look. Mikos shot him through the nose. The arrowhead punched through to the other side. Mikos retrieved and cleaned his blades as the wounded moaned softly. "Behave," had said and then stalked out. He pulled his shafts out of the dead as he passed.
There was a pair of watchmen two streets over. Mikos walked up to then and their eyes widened as they saw a bloody handed man with arrows in his hands walk up to them. "Some thieves tried to rob me at Demetri's Hostel. You might one to do something with the survivors." He left the watchmen with their mouth's hanging open. "You can find me at the Tagronese house if you have questions."
The big one with no scars laughed. The one who's face was marked by lightning like scars and sword cuts smiled, showing a broken tusk. The others didn't do anything. The tall one, who was lean under the mail coat, laughed. "My brothers and I didn't drive our herd all the way from Narfell just to take five. Look at them! Tall, sturdy steeds; not the local runts. You're a big man, you need a swift horse, not a pony! And they're tough too. Not like the southern breeds. Fifteen I might consider."
"Fifteen? For a horse? I thought we were talking gold, although I will certainly pay twenty silvers for one."
The tall one grinned. "Where are you going to find better, little man?" There was nothing small about Mikos. He was half a foot shorter than the half-orc, but Rhazag was close to seven feet.
"Eight," countered Mikos.
"Thirteen."
"Ten."
"Eleven."
"Done." Mikos began to count gold into the half-orc's table.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Kuuni slipped through the crowd, eyes at waste level to the humans and half-orcs. The dwarves were closer to her level, but they were more aware in general and kept their interesting possessions well guarded. More of a challenge.
She wasn't going out to steal, not that she would turn down an easy opportunity, but to get the lay of the town. It was busy and bustling as the weather had finally become good enough to allow travel a few weeks back. For southerners Vaasa had little worth the trip except for bloodstone, but then Vaasa had a lot of bloodstone. Prospectors, merchants, and fortune seekers came up from the south while traders from all around came to great them and sell their wares in this small city.
They weren't very many woman here, which a simple headcount would confirm. There were a few brothels and they seemed to be doing booming business. A few years in the north where hard currency was plentiful and women few could earn a daring whoremaster quite the fortune, if raiders didn't get him first.
Kuuni cared nothing for this. Such concerns bored her. So she sat on stool on the second story of a foor story tavern/whorehouse and watched the various traders, muelskinners, merceneries, and sundry locals come in and visit the facilities. The most common choices seemed to be getting smashed, followed by getting smashed and attempting to have sex with a prostitute while in an inebriated state. This naturally lead to some performance based dissatisfaction on the part of some of the clientel and kept the huge half-orc bouncers busy.
But that didn't hold her interest. Not even the small brawl that errupted really moved her. She was watching the man down on the main floor, show sat in the corner and occassionally played a game of mummbly peg, while sipping his bear. The speed and control he possessed as he stabbed between his fingers impressed her, but what really caught her attention was the deference servers and the bouncers gave him. She had found a hub and the hub was the center of the wheel.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Mikos had paid the hostler and was making sure the horses were settled into their stalls when the barn door opened. He pretended not to notice that it was accompanied by the sound of a lot of humanoid feet and no horses hooves. Their wasn't a sound from the hostler. He could hear several of them stepping forward as he patted the horse on the nose. Then he spun around, his hands already moving.
There was seven of them, all with scarves pulled up around their mouths and hoods to help hid their faces. One had was hiding a light crossbow behind his cloak and was guarding the hostler, a man who was on the far side of fifty who carried far too much weight around his gut. There was another next to him, with a crossbow ready to be pointed his way.
The other five were strolling down past the stalls toward him. The were on the opposite side as their buddy, to make sure he had a clear line of fire. They drew swords and axes as he moved. No need for stealth now.
The thieves had been drawn by the gold they had seen in the streets. One man carrying such wealth, no matter how tough, was too tempting a target. Mikos knew all about targets. The crossbowman got his bow up faster than Mikos could draw his and fire, but not so quickly that Mikos couldn't use his friends as cover.
A to the side of the knee dislocated the knee cap and a thief went down hard. He swept aside a striking axe with his shortsword and ran his long blade through another thief's lung. Hardened leather provided no resistance at all to the supernaturally sharp blade. The thief fell back, severely injured.
A sword struck Mikos's arm hard enough to hurt. He took two steps back, leaving the two wounded out of reach. Two pressed him hard while the other moved the flank on his exposed side. Mikos took the axe man in the center. An overhand blow forced a high parry. The other man moved to strike his exposed side with a longsword. Mikos feinted at the sword wielder with his shortsword, drove his boot hard into the axe man's stomach, and sliced the swordman across the thighs. The blade bit almost to the bone. He dropped howling. Mikos twisted to meet the flanker. The man took a wary step backwards. Then another. And another.
Mikos sidestepped to keep him between him and the crossbowmen. Then he dropped his blades. The flanker hesitated and then drove forward. Mikos slapped his sword away with his bow. Not the best way to treat a bow, but it could take it. The six foot long weapon was midnight black and engraved with silver runes. It was a magical as most people thought it would be.
He seized an arrow and she smacked his bow into the thief's head, droping him. He took a step to the side as he drew back the bow, causing a bolt to miss him by inches. He was faster than the other. He put a shaft through his throat and then another through the spine of the other crossbowman as he tried to run.
Kneecap gave him a dirty look. Mikos shot him through the nose. The arrowhead punched through to the other side. Mikos retrieved and cleaned his blades as the wounded moaned softly. "Behave," had said and then stalked out. He pulled his shafts out of the dead as he passed.
There was a pair of watchmen two streets over. Mikos walked up to then and their eyes widened as they saw a bloody handed man with arrows in his hands walk up to them. "Some thieves tried to rob me at Demetri's Hostel. You might one to do something with the survivors." He left the watchmen with their mouth's hanging open. "You can find me at the Tagronese house if you have questions."
The Excellent Prismatic Spray. For when you absolutely, positively must kill a motherfucker. Accept no substitutions. Contact a magician of the later Aeons for details. Some conditions may apply.
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Ford Prefect
- Emperor's Hand
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Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
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- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
City of the Spider Queen takes you from about 10th level to about 18th. And then we settled up with a cabal of Sembian nobles lead by a half dragon arch-mage (previous owner of Nalifan's house) who had previously stalked us and made us fight a gladatorial battle for our lives.
The Excellent Prismatic Spray. For when you absolutely, positively must kill a motherfucker. Accept no substitutions. Contact a magician of the later Aeons for details. Some conditions may apply.
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Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11978
- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
It wasn't quite as simple as that, of course. The watch hadn't just let him go, but Mikos had gone along easily enough. It hadn't taken them long to conclude in Mikos's favor. Something about live witnesses and dead thieves made his tale rather compelling.
Word spread like wild fire as he headed back to the Tagronese house. People gasped and watched with wide eyes as he strode through the common room and washed up in a basin. "What happened?" asked Isvan, one of the guards.
"Thieves," Mikos replied. "It's settled. Hi Trizkel."
The drow continued his way down the stairs. "Problem?"
"Solved. Rough town. Got the horses."
"The law?" Trizkel asked.
"Knows. It's not a problem. Witness, dead guys with concealed faces, two of the dead guys had outlaw brands."
Trizkel nodded. "Good. Kuuni's still out on the town."
"She can take care of herself."
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Kuuni slid into the chair opposite the knife man. "Hi. This seat taken? Good." The man glowered at her. He was a slim, cleanshaven dark man. "You're not from around here, are you?" she catthered.
"Either are you," he responded "And you are exhausting my good will."
"Are you sure about that?" She looked up at him. Her head was barely over the edge of the table. "I mean, being as I am so unusual, don't you have some extra patience for me?"
"Get to the point."
"Well, I was wondering if you could help me with something that was bothering me."
"Right now I'm inclinded to help you into a hole."
"That's nice, but I don't want to return to the Underdark quite yet. I want to know about Zhengyi."
"I want to be left alone. We can't get all get we want. That won't be your problem for much longer."
"How nice." Kuuni looked at him with eyes wide. "You're going to help me."
The man snarled. "Don't play the fool with me."
"Play? I dont' know what you mean."
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"You spoke with my uncle last night."
Nalifan looked up from his breakfast meal, which was made up of heese, fresh berries, and a some of last nights deer washed down with a Cormyrian red. "Yes, he came to see me." He held up the bottle. "Want some wine?"
Thiddeus scowled. "What did you talk about?" Nalifan considered possible answers. Diplomacy would be the best. For now.
"He had questions. I answered them."
"The council is still considering whether or not I should leave."
"You already stated you intend to go."
"I do not rule the tribe," he replied. "I have responsibilities, something you wouldn't know anything about."
That was pushing it. "Like donating a vast horde to a wealthy temple instead of using it to help your people? How much useful magic could you have bought with that?"
Thiddeus growled. "I have responsibilities to my goddess as well. Not that you would know anything about that."
"Of course," Nalifan replied, "and you've done a spectacular job of employing your gifts in her service. Your powers surely reflect your dedication. You undoubtedly spend tremendous amounts of time using those gifts in Chauntea's service." He stopped for a moment. "We can continue in this vein if you wish, or you can start acting like the man you claim to be."
"And what happens to you then?" Thiddeus sneared.
"Nothing particularily good, which is what also happens to you and everything you claim to care about. You believe in doing 'good', correct? What is good about letting a might fiend roam the world and kill at will."
"Alright, I'll go even if the council says no. But we wait until they make their decision. I want their blessing."
Word spread like wild fire as he headed back to the Tagronese house. People gasped and watched with wide eyes as he strode through the common room and washed up in a basin. "What happened?" asked Isvan, one of the guards.
"Thieves," Mikos replied. "It's settled. Hi Trizkel."
The drow continued his way down the stairs. "Problem?"
"Solved. Rough town. Got the horses."
"The law?" Trizkel asked.
"Knows. It's not a problem. Witness, dead guys with concealed faces, two of the dead guys had outlaw brands."
Trizkel nodded. "Good. Kuuni's still out on the town."
"She can take care of herself."
----------------------------------------------------------------
Kuuni slid into the chair opposite the knife man. "Hi. This seat taken? Good." The man glowered at her. He was a slim, cleanshaven dark man. "You're not from around here, are you?" she catthered.
"Either are you," he responded "And you are exhausting my good will."
"Are you sure about that?" She looked up at him. Her head was barely over the edge of the table. "I mean, being as I am so unusual, don't you have some extra patience for me?"
"Get to the point."
"Well, I was wondering if you could help me with something that was bothering me."
"Right now I'm inclinded to help you into a hole."
"That's nice, but I don't want to return to the Underdark quite yet. I want to know about Zhengyi."
"I want to be left alone. We can't get all get we want. That won't be your problem for much longer."
"How nice." Kuuni looked at him with eyes wide. "You're going to help me."
The man snarled. "Don't play the fool with me."
"Play? I dont' know what you mean."
--------------------------------------------------------------
"You spoke with my uncle last night."
Nalifan looked up from his breakfast meal, which was made up of heese, fresh berries, and a some of last nights deer washed down with a Cormyrian red. "Yes, he came to see me." He held up the bottle. "Want some wine?"
Thiddeus scowled. "What did you talk about?" Nalifan considered possible answers. Diplomacy would be the best. For now.
"He had questions. I answered them."
"The council is still considering whether or not I should leave."
"You already stated you intend to go."
"I do not rule the tribe," he replied. "I have responsibilities, something you wouldn't know anything about."
That was pushing it. "Like donating a vast horde to a wealthy temple instead of using it to help your people? How much useful magic could you have bought with that?"
Thiddeus growled. "I have responsibilities to my goddess as well. Not that you would know anything about that."
"Of course," Nalifan replied, "and you've done a spectacular job of employing your gifts in her service. Your powers surely reflect your dedication. You undoubtedly spend tremendous amounts of time using those gifts in Chauntea's service." He stopped for a moment. "We can continue in this vein if you wish, or you can start acting like the man you claim to be."
"And what happens to you then?" Thiddeus sneared.
"Nothing particularily good, which is what also happens to you and everything you claim to care about. You believe in doing 'good', correct? What is good about letting a might fiend roam the world and kill at will."
"Alright, I'll go even if the council says no. But we wait until they make their decision. I want their blessing."
The Excellent Prismatic Spray. For when you absolutely, positively must kill a motherfucker. Accept no substitutions. Contact a magician of the later Aeons for details. Some conditions may apply.
