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 Posted: Wed Nov 28, 2007 9:01 pm
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I've been planning and outlining this one for at least two months now. I wrote the beginning of the introduction tonight, just to get a feel for the style the story is going to be in. I want to try to outline the entire thing before I write the actual story any further. I just wanted to get some opinions and see what you folks thought of what I had put down. Be brutally honest.
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Okay, I guess I'll make this my update post too.
1-02-08
I added the conclusion to the introduction scene at the end of the very first post. I also added the very short first chapter that serves to set up the setting and basic background info. Sorry if it's too much of an info dump. I was trying to think of a way to convery whats utimately going to be important information and this seemed like the best way at the time.
1-17-08
Crikey! It's really been two weeks since I updated?!
The first part of chapter 2 is up.
1-18-08
Part 2 of chapter 2 is up!
1-28-08
Part 1 of Chapter 3 has been added
2-10-08
It's a touch later than I wanted to post it, but Part 2 of Chapter 3 is up
3-01-08
Part 3 of Chapter 3 is posted. The story's main antagonist is now in play.
6-23-08
After three months with no update, I'm back and happy to announce that the actual story has been completed as of today and I've added the first scene of chapter four.
I'll post pieces of the rest of it here as time permits. If anyone would rather read the whole thing and not wait, I'd be happy to email it to you as a word document. All I ask, either here or elsewhere, is for some honest constructive criticism. The story itself may be finished, but I feel like there's still much to do.
It'd also be snazzy if you want to help me come up with a title for this damn thing xp
7-5-08
The remainder of chapter four has been posted. The title still eludes me.
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Introduction
Like a drum of war the slow, insidious beating sounded in her head. As the world came into haze-drowned view the nauseating blend of blood and sea air assaulted her and caused her to retch out of reflex. The beating suddenly grew more rapid and a searing pain shot through the left side of Zanai’s chest before she realized the beating was her own heart pounding beneath broken ribs. She fought to move her arms and inspect the damage but could feel nothing save the sensation that both arms were restrained. Lifting her horned head caused droplets of thick crimson to fall from her brow as she realized both of her arms were pinned to the massive trunk of a tree that she had her back against. She was held in place at the wrists by thick spikes that were driven deep into the bark of the great oak and when she tried to clench her hands into fists her body ignored the command all together.
“Ha! You b*****d!!” She could only laugh at her situation as her gaze fell back to the grass covered ground beneath her boots. Her fiery red hair cascaded the sharp features of her face and matted against her pale yellow skin due to the blood pumping from a deep gash on her forehead.
Willing enough energy to look forward she could see corpse after skewered corpse stretched about the bloodstained landscape that separated her from the eastern sea. Cool air rolled in from the coast and rustled the bloodied stalks off grass with chilling promises of death that spoke louder than the last beats of Zanai’s heart.
Her expression turned grim when she saw a large shadowed shape stalking across the night horizon against the backdrop of the silver moon as though it taunted her. The ship’s sails swayed as if beckoning her to try and pursue and distant, faint voices seemed to only taunt the defeated woman further as the night air brought death’s embrace closer and the last few moments of Zanai’s life suddenly replayed in a perverse montage.
She saw the faces of her aggressors as they laughed and circled her like scavengers surrounding a wounded animal.
She saw her own arm clumsily swing a sword and miss a man only to be thrust in his throat when he gloated. The man went down, convulsing as blood flew from the wound like a geyser.
There were flashes of steel as more men fell to the ground, struck dead by a sharp weapon.
A blunt weapon smashed into her side and rough, cruel hands through her down to the ground. A giant of a man looked down at her and stomped her repeatedly before things went dark.
Her vision returned long enough to feel two people dragging her towards the giant oak that towered above the carnage. The gruff man that stomped on her stood next to the tree with a barbarous smile hidden beneath his black beard as he clenched a large two handed hammer in one hand and a pair of long spikes in the other.
The image then faded away.
Zanai could feel herself growing cold and the beating of her heart begin to slow before she noted a second methodical tempo overhead. Lifting her head again, she noted a gathering of several black feathered birds with bulbous, white heads likes skulls and cruel, razor sharp beaks began to congregate on the branch of another one of the trees that were lightly peppered about the scene while others descended through the tree line and began helping themselves to the corpses Zanai had left.
A smirk crossed her bloody face when the scavengers began to caw as if they were coordinating and she closed her eyes, resigning herself to the fate she had been dealt.
She heard the alpha male apparent of the group of avian menaces caw loudly before beating his great wings and shooting towards her like an arrow. Her heart began racing again when the bird picked up speed and the harsh noise of its flight grew louder. She took a deep breath and braced herself for what she knew would be the last thing she would ever feel. Death-head vultures, as they were called, liked to go for the throat of dying prey.
Zanai’s heart skipped a beat and she gasped.
Rather than being pierced in the throat by the bird’s razor-like beak, there was a startled squawk followed immediately by frantic flapping.
Zanai’s gray eyes shot open where she saw a pale, lanky woman with blonde hair holding the vulture by its own throat in an implacable grip. Her dark brown eyes never left Zanai as, with a twitch of her wiry fingers, the pale woman tightened her grip and snapped the vulture’s neck, silencing it’s squawking and ceasing its incessant, defiant flapping.
The rest of the flock had frantically scattered back into the night air before the woman even cast the alpha male’s body to the forest floor.
Lowering her slender arm back to her side, the blonde woman silently moved towards Zanai, her unremarkable cloak trailing behind her as she seemed to glide like specter. Zanai watched her, not daring to speak and almost wishing the vultures had made a meal of her as she stared into the eyes of her ghastly rescuer.
“You’ve failed, Zanai.” The woman spoke in a booming voice that no living female should be able to produce. “You’ve let our enemies take the prize from us.”
Zanai shrank back and eyed the woman carefully. Her heart raced once more, its hated and laborious beating echoing louder than ever.
added on 1-02-08
“They ambushed me. Plus I had to protect-AGHHH!!!!” Zanai began to reason and suddenly screamed when the blonde woman reach forth and cruelly ripped the spike from Zanai’s left wrist. Zanai’s eyes burned with hate as she glared at the woman, who simply watched her like a cruel child watching a struggling insect after she’s pulled its legs off.
“You lanky bi-AGGH!!!” Zanai screamed again and collapsed in a heap when the other spike was pulled free.
“It seems as though Baird sails for Duros, given the path he’s going. When you wake up, follow him.”
Zanai heard the booming tone in the pale woman’s instructions clearly even as everything faded and she passed out.
The calm whisper of the wind in her ear woke Zanai up sometime later. Enduring a throbbing headache and adjusting vision, she managed to push herself up and into a sitting position. She let out a deep sigh and looked up to the sky where the rust colored moon peered back at her at her. She raised her hands and looked them over. It had taken her moment to realize that, not only did she have the strength to lift her arms but the wounds left by the spikes were gone. She took a moment to explore the features of her face. The cuts and scars her attackers left were gone, she only hoped they hadn’t ruined the tattoo work that adorned her visage. Her thoughts went to the pale woman, whom she knew she owed her reinstated health too. Then she thought about what the pale woman said.
Duros
Zanai leapt to her feet and straightened the long, black sleeveless coat that hugged her athletic form. Looking her bare arms over she saw the winding network of body art that covered them had appeared the same as always and nodded with approval.
“Okay, Duros…” She muttered to herself, scanning the distant horizon on the Redway Sea. The ship was nowhere to be seen, though the silver moon wasn’t far moved from the last place she remembered seeing it, which meant she wasn’t unconscious for very long. She looked to the south and saw several scattered lights at the water line in the distance. She also faintly noticed large, dark objects rocking idly in the water just beyond the lights. A port town.
Moving like the wind, Zanai grabbed the two curved swords that had been impaled in one of the corpses she had left earlier and shoved them both into the large scabbard that hang at her lower back. Her coat trailed behind her as she made haste for the town, hoping she’d be in time to catch the next boat that was going east across the Redway sea.
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Posted: Wed Dec 05, 2007 2:09 am
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Posted: Thu Dec 27, 2007 10:24 pm
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Posted: Tue Jan 01, 2008 11:32 pm
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Posted: Tue Jan 01, 2008 11:37 pm
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I
Algeron’s first letter
“My dear friend, Patredes.
After a long journey spanning the Redway Sea I have finally arrived in the western lands in my journey to find more information for our archives. I write you this correspondence from a rather large town called Duros on the central-west coast due south of New Actica. The words spoken by our colleagues at the University of this place are all true, old friend. Though one would be hard pressed to see it at first, corruption runs afoul of this entire port it seems. The local police force, who I’ve come to learn call themselves the Peacekeepers, do keep Duros’ citizens safe. Their word is law because the provincial Governor that the king of Elystria appointed wants nothing to do with this place except to collect his fees from the large number of ships that dock here. That much is true. However, it is also true that when the shadow of night falls the streets are ruled by all manner of cutthroats and rogues who would just as quickly shove a knife between the ribs of their own mothers were it to benefit them!"
"While I have spent the humid days traveling the city and making the observations that will be in my subsequent writings, I have spent my nights in my acquired quarters above a watering hole that caters to something of an undesirable crowd, a colorful, well-informed lot though the thugs and whores I’ve come to call my neighbors have turned out to be. During the rare instances that I dare venture outside of my room at night, I have seen acolytes of the hated Cult of the Wyrm amongst the inn’s denizens and have done well to steer clear of those madmen. My inquiries to my new neighbors tell me that a man out of the Tuten-kash desert is the head of a rather sizable Wyrm cult in the city and that the peacekeepers only tolerate them due to the fact that the Wyrm Cult and the organization run by a crime lord named Arghanas Prax keep each other in line and leave the king’s citizens alone for the most part. It is a strange situation, but it seems to maintain some semblance of order admittedly. I wonder then, will the rumored arrival of the infamous pirate captain Quinn Baird have any impact on the system on which this city runs…?”
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Posted: Wed Jan 09, 2008 11:38 pm
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Posted: Wed Jan 16, 2008 11:03 pm
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II
Killer Instinct
Port Duros’ harbor lay in an eerie, crypt like silence under the watchful gaze of the silver and rust colored moons. Merchants and traders had long since closed up their seaside shops leaving only rats to scurry about the warped boardwalks and the immense docked ships to rock gently in salty, night air.
The Blight of the Sea, a 165 foot long, twin mast warship captained by the pirate Quinn Baird and manned by a crew of fifty, rested in its place at the dock with its gangway retracted onto the ship and its somber main deck running red with the blood of two of its own crew.
Melchiah stood over his victims dressed in loose fitting black garb beneath chest armor made of light leather with his visage hidden behind a face mask and beneath a hood. An errant swing cleaned the blood from his still dripping sword before he returned it to the sheath across his back and looked over his shoulder as another person made her way onto the ship by way of a grappling hook attached to the starboard side of the vessel.
The petite woman with dark, shoulder length hair and pointed ears pulled herself onto the Blight’s main deck and straightened the dark red long coat that hung on her narrow shoulders once she was on her feet. She looked to her companion’s handiwork that had been spread out in front of them before looking up to the man himself.
“They were the only two up here. The rest of the crew must be below.” He spoke in an impassive tone while regarding the bodies at his feet.
Bianca turned her attention towards the front of the ship where she spied an opening that led into the bowels of the beast. Calmly walking towards the edge with Melchiah behind her, Bianca peered within to try and pick out any activity before turning back to Melchiah.
“Go. I won’t be very long.” She said to him in a low whisper.
The hooded assassin nodded his head, turned away and began to run. His quick footsteps fell lightly against the wooden deck, making virtually no sound as he made his way to the quarterdeck at the stern of the ship where he knew Captain Quinn Baird’s quarters to be.
Bianca watched him for only a moment before turning back to the descending stairway in front of her. Fingering the grip of a large dagger sheathed to her slender thigh, she took a step forward and began her descent into the Blight’s lower levels.
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Melchiah mentally cursed to himself when the door to the captain’s quarters at the rear of the ship creaked as he pushed it open. Beyond the threshold he found a long, high-ceiling hallway dimly lit by lanterns affixed to the walls every few steps and wide enough for two normal sized humans to walk side by side. There was a sudden, sharp turn to the left after thirty feet by Melchiah’s estimates and he had only taken a few light, silent steps beyond the doorway that when he heard a gruff mumbling coming from beyond the bend accompanied by heavy footfalls that he could very faintly feel even where he stood.
“Where the hell are they?! I should just order the men to get us out of here…” Captain Baird spoke to no one in particular.
Realizing his prey was literally walking right towards him, Melchiah quickly but quietly stalked down the hallway bend towards him while casting aside nonsensical mutterings that he immediately deemed inconsequential. As the two men approached each other, the pirate captain completely unaware of what was just around the turn; Melchiah listened to his prey’s movements carefully and prepared his strike accordingly. Judging from the sounds the creaking wood made under the captain’s boot steps, Melchiah could tell he was dealing with a man much bigger than he was, yet he lay in wait and allowed the captain a few more steps. Peering to his right, Melchiah noted Baird’s shadow on the wall and how it betrayed the captain’s close proximity. The assassin reached behind and gripped his weapon.
The next few chaotic moments unfolded within the bated breath of a few seconds time.
Sliding his short blade from the sheath at the small of his back the minute he leapt around the corner, Melchiah swooped in like a hawk on a field mouse while the lantern light gleamed off what seemed like a freshly sharpened blade that thirsted. The space between him and his target was cleared within three strides and with surgical precision the blade was sunk into the side of his victim’s neck before Captain Baird could even shake his surprise and manage a scream. The giant of a man’s body froze up in shock before he could grab his assailant and Melchiah’s own dark green eyes stared Baird in his agonized face before gently lowering him to floor. The captain wheezed and twitched as the assassin pulled his satiated blade out of his neck and put it back into the sheath. Blood erupted from the wound into a rapidly expanding pool on the floor and Baird tried in vain to stop it with his hand only to be stopped when Melchiah put a soft sole to the captain’s wrist and pinned it to the floor. Without a word, the killer in black stared at his dying victim while drawing his long sword. The still bloodstained blade glinted in the faint light while it was turned upside down and its razor tip lowered to Baird’s chest before the assassin raised the weapon again. Melchiah then narrowed his eyes and noted the look of terror on Baird’s face. He imagined the man would be begging for his life right now if he was able to talk, but the only mercy Melchiah was going to extend him was an end to his suffering in the form of the killing stroke.
(*director's commentary*: This is only the first part of this chapter. The rest is pretty much done but I think I'm going to tweak some things first before I post it)
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Posted: Thu Jan 17, 2008 2:09 am
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Posted: Thu Jan 17, 2008 2:20 am
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Posted: Fri Jan 18, 2008 2:04 am
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II
Killer Instinct (part 2)
Bianca had to suppress a chuckle when she realized how easy it had been.
Standing at the far end of the third and lowest gun deck, she looked to the entrance at the other end and carefully eyed the sleeping crewmen that spanned the distance between her and the doorway she came in through to make sure none of them had been awake and alert to her presence.
It was the same way when she had passed through the upper and middle decks and she had almost wished there was some complication to keep this job from being too easy.
Getting back to the task at hand, Bianca turned to the large hatch she found at the far end of the lower deck, knelt down and quietly pulled the door open. After slipping inside, she shut the hatch behind her and descended into the ship’s surprisingly large storage hold. She paused for a moment to thank her fortune that there were lit lanterns illuminating the storage space, but quickly cursed her damned luck when she saw noted movement at the far end of the room. It seems she had found her complication.
“What are you doing down here, girl?” A stocky man in unremarkable robes spoke in a venomous tone when he spotted Bianca.
“She isn’t one of the crew…” His companion, a bug eyed woman with a bird’s nest of dark hair, spoke.
“No, she isn’t, my dear. That means she’s all ours.” The male said just as the pair approached the intruder as one, grim expressions on their face.
“Dammit!” Bianca growled and quickly turned back. She grabbed one of the two lanterns hanging from the wall on either side of the staircase just below the hatch and her pointed ears twitched when she heard metal scraping against leather. Instinct told her to move to her right as, with a yell, the bug eyed woman thrust a dagger at Bianca’s back. Moving just in time to avoid being stabbed, Bianca heard blade pierce wood and took only a moment to realize the woman’s weapon was stuck in the wall before glass shattered as she swung the lantern at the back of the woman’s head as hard as she could and sent her face first into the wall before the woman collapsed to the floor.
Dropping the handle of the shattered lantern, Bianca quickly drew one of the two large knives strapped to her thigh and turned to face her other opponent. She cursed and growled in surprise when the male tackled her to the floor and wrapped large, stubby fingers around her thin neck. She hit her head against the floor and her knife wielding hand was pinned down, rendering the weapon useless. Thinking quickly, Bianca brought her knee up hard into the man’s groin The sudden blow shocked him enough to allow Bianca to free her knife wielding hand and shove the ten inch blade between the man’s ribs up to the weapon’s cross guard. With a blood soaked gurgle his iron grip around her neck eased instantly and a hard fist across his jaw convinced him to let go completely. Bianca breathed heavily as she rolled over and on top of the man while she shook the hand she punched him with. She then pulled her knife back just when the woman got to her feet, still dazed from having had a lantern broken over her skull. Not taking any chances, Bianca leapt to her feet and charged the woman. A blood curdling scream sounded when Bianca leapt onto the woman’s back and thrust her knife in just a few centimeters shy of the woman’s spine. Her opponent fought frantically but Bianca held firm until they both fell to the floor in a heap and the minute they fell, Bianca rolled back to her feet and clutched her bloody knife in anticipation of having to continue to defend herself. Only after several moments of silence was she satisfied that they were both dead, but it was then that she noted a strange marking on the woman’s back underneath ripped clothing near where the knife had gone in. Bianca moved a piece of clothing out of the way with her knife tip and saw the marking of a serpent with three heads coiled around an orb resembling a planet on the woman’s back.
“A wyrm cultist…?” Bianca asked herself in bewilderment. A quick investigation of the male’s corpse revealed the same symbol tattooed on his right arm.
“What in the name of the void is going on here?” She whispered to herself while standing back up. Several explanations as to why Wyrm Cultists would be on the ship of a notorious pirate like Baird ran through her mind all at once, but she was forced to abandon those thoughts when she realized she still had a job to do.
A wolfish smile crossed her weary face when she noticed a large collection of wooden barrels at the far end of the cargo hold. The room itself was unremarkable save for the size which ran much of the Blight’s length and width, and as Bianca walked from one end of the other she noticed for the first time the large number of crates and containers that were tied down to the floor. Frowning at the thought that she didn’t have time to go through them and line her own pockets, she sighed and came to a stop at the rear of the hold when she reached the large stockpile of wooden barrels weighted down to the floor. Cutting one loose from its bonds, she pulled it towards her and removed the lid to make sure it contained what she thought it did: gunpowder for the ship’s cannons.
Chuckling, Bianca repositioned herself to the barrel’s side to tip it over when yet another complication lay unmoving in the corner of the hold. Walking towards it cautiously, Bianca kept her knife in hand and senses alert on the assumption that this was some sort of trap. When she got close enough she knelt down and reached out to make sure she, a small blonde human child who couldn’t have been older than five or six years, was really there and not an illusion caused from hitting her head during the fight. Bianca lowered her head so her pointed ear was only inches away from the child’s face. She was breathing, Bianca realized with a sigh of relief.
“Hey, wake up…” Bianca shook her gently and kept her voice low. She quickly stopped, however, when she felt a slight tingle run up her arm the minute she touched the girl as though some unseen force didn’t approve of the contact.
“A sleeping spell. A strong one, too...” Bianca observed with an annoyed groan. “I don’t have time for this, but I’m not leaving you here to go down with the rest of the ship little one.” She promised with a sigh as she turned back to the gunpowder barrels. More questions began running through her head and old ones resurfaced as she got up and knocked the barrel over, spilling gunpowder onto the hold’s floor.
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The hatch to the hold was quietly lifted moments later and Bianca scanned the lower gun deck for several moments before quietly climbing out with the sleeping child held in her other arm. Kneeling down and reaching into the hatch once she was out, Bianca pulled out the second lantern from near the staircase and looked down at the long trail of gunpowder that ran to the other end of the hold where it ended at the large stockpile of gunpowder. Several side trails deviated from the main one where they ended at the various other crates and containers held below the ship. Bianca peered over her shoulder one last time to make sure her path to the stairway leading upward was without obstruction before she threw the burning lantern down onto the beginning of the black powder trail. Before the shattering of glass preceded the loud sizzle of burning gun powder Bianca began moving like the wind with the sleeping girl held close and darted up the steps long before the first explosions rocked the ship.
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The blade of Melchiah’s sword sliced the cloth of the late Captain Quinn Baird’s shirt with ease as the assassin carved off enough of the garment to form a carrying pouch for his victim’s now severed head. After sliding his weapon back into its sheath he clenched a fistful of the captain’s thick dark hair and wrapped it up by tying off the torn piece of shirt. He hoisted the man’s head over his shoulder and started back the way he came, leaving the headless corpse behind him when a hollow BOOM echoed off of the walls of the captain’s quarter the very same instant a massive jolt reverberated beneath his feet and shook the entire ship. Melchiah staggered from the sudden movement but placed his free hand against the nearest wall to keep from falling over. A single chuckle escaped from behind the assassin’s mask when he realized his accomplice was likely the one behind the explosions. Another powerful blast from below spurred him to move with some haste in his step as he ran for the exit determined to not have the vessel come down on his head.
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Another explosion erupted from the bowels of the Blight as brilliant orange and yellow flame illuminated the somber docks of Port Duros and hungrily consumed the vessel.
Terror and confusion reigned over the panicking crewmen of the ship as some fled to the main deck while others below were mercilessly consumed by the flames in vain attempts to extinguish them and save their ship. Anguished screams echoed through the air but were drowned out by the crackle of flame and splinter of wood as successive explosions tore holes in the lower levels of the ship as easily as if they were eating their way through mere paper. Fleeing crewmen on the dock screamed almost as one when the boat rocked violently and suddenly dipped on its port side as if to capsize.
Wrapped in the shadows of an alley between two dockside shops, Bianca watched the chaotic scene quietly as Baird’s ship died before her very eyes. The sleeping girl was held tight in Bianca’s arms and wrapped in her red long coat to keep warm and as flames continued to rip through the boat, Bianca turned her head to find Melchiah suddenly at her side with Baird’s served head stilled wrapped up and in his head.
“I was starting to think you didn’t make it out in time…” Bianca commented.
“What is that?” Melchiah asked plainly, looking at the child in Bianca’s arms.
“She was being watched over in the hold by a pair of snake coddlers, Mel!” She tried to reason with him. “They used some kind of sleeping spell on her. I couldn’t just leave her.”
Melchiah glared at the child momentarily before looking back at what was left of the Blight, now laying almost completely on its port side, as the water began to slowly devour it.
Both he and Bianca could hear heavy, armored footsteps against the boardwalk before they saw the first of the peacekeepers arrive on the scene, their armor glinting in the light of the flames as officers yelled orders to their subordinates to quickly get the situation under control.
“Come on.” Melchiah grabbed Bianca’s arm to lead her into the shadows.
“Before we’re seen.”
Bianca turned away and followed behind him as he disappeared into the night.
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Posted: Fri Jan 18, 2008 2:31 am
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Posted: Sat Jan 26, 2008 9:47 pm
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Posted: Mon Jan 28, 2008 6:48 pm
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III
The Cult of Shemsu-Set (scene I)
“By the decree of Lord Belmont, this section of the dock is to remain sealed off from the public until the wreckage has been recovered.” A peacekeeper senior officer shouted at the top of his lungs to his subordinates as they worked to carry out their orders. “Any citizen found on this section of the dock before our work is complete will be detained!” He emphasized.
It had been roughly two hours since the first of them had arrived on the scene, but many more were arriving still to contain and investigate the situation at the behest of Alistair Belmont, lord of the Duros Peacekeepers and, by extension, de facto governor of Duros itself.
“Who did that fool pirate anger to have this done to him?” A peacekeeper asked his companion as the two of them worked together to hoist the charred remains of a crewman from the deck and into a large cart that held several blackened and broken bodies recovered from the ship wreckage.
“That is none of our concern, brother Renato.” Dran reminded his friend, stopping momentarily when another peacekeeper wandered by on his way to some other task. “Our lord has placed us among these fools to retrieve the prize, if it still lives.” He continued when they were alone again.
“That is very true, but what if the vessel is responsible for Baird’s fate, either directly or indirectly.” Renato questioned. “Not to mention that we…”
“You two men!”
Renato and Dran paused when a stern voice called for them and turned to see one of the junior officers assigned to clean up standing nearby with several troops behind him carrying one large net between them.
“Yes sir?!” The two answered dutifully as they stood at attention.
“Your job is to clean up this dock and get these bodies out of here. Whatever the nature of your discussions may be, they can wait. Is that understood?!”
“Yes sir!”
The officer eyed Renato and Dran before signaling the men behind him. They tugged the large net they were carrying and dumped the bodies and body parts contained within at Renato and Dran’s feet. Without so much as a word, the officer and his two subordinates then left.
“I am going to tear that one’s heart from his chest when this task is over…” Dran swore once the officer was out of earshot.
“Perhaps you should be thanking him, brother Dran.” Renato spoke.
“Why is that?” Dran turned to Renato, who was rising out of kneeling position with a severed forearm in his hand. The first thing Dran noticed about the appendage was the tattoo of a three headed serpent coiled around a planet.
“I suppose we don’t have to ponder on what became of brother Strahm, then?” Dran said with a cruel laugh.
“Evidently not.” Renato looked Strahm’s arm over. “We must assume that this means Urda is dead, as well.” He concluded. “Return to our lord and inform him of what we’ve found. I’ll continue searching here.”
Dran nodded and walked off, making sure they weren’t being watched by the junior officer as he went.
Moving quickly, he managed to avoid detection and slipped into the network of alleyways near one of the shops that was mere paces away from where he and Renato stood. Dran felt as though someone was watching him though as he looked about the alleys and rooftops, he couldn’t see anyone else. Pushing the feeling aside, he quickened his pace and moved towards the heart of the city.
Once Dran had passed by and put some distance between himself and the docks, Zanai peered over the ledge of the rooftop she had positioned herself on and observed the scene at the docks quietly. Lying on her belly in order to remain low, she eyed Renato directly below her in particular and noted the interest he took in the appendage in his hand. Her sharp eyes could barely make out the wyrm cult tattoo on the arm he held, but she began drawing her own conclusions. Someone may have gotten to Baird before she could, but all may have not been lost just yet, she realized with a smile.
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Posted: Sun Feb 10, 2008 5:26 pm
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III
The Cult of Shemsu-Set (scene II)
By either design or accident, news of the Blight of the Sea’s demise had spread through Duros’ underworld almost as quickly as the flames that consumed the ship. Rumors and theories of the nature surrounding the pirate vessel’s untimely end were as thick in the air of the Lone Goblet tavern and inn as the smells of tobacco smoke and fermented brew.
Blazing fires contained inside glass lanterns glinted of the polished surfaces of silver coins as they changed hands in games of chance and under the table dealings. Rowdy games of dice dominated the four corners of the building’s ground floor, where risk-taking rogues attempted to make quick fortunes against professional gamblers. Skillful tavern wenches moved with ease and grace between tables and wandering patrons while carrying trays of hot food and cold beverage, flirtatiously mingling with any who waved coin in their direction.
Stroking his narrow beard and taking in the ambient conversion around him while downing another portion of his drink, Algeron the scholar heard many wild theories and drunken boasts laying claim to the Blight’s destruction. Dismissing them all as falsehoods brought one by brew the moment he heard them, a smirked crossed his dark face as he made sure to file away the more entertaining musings for Patredes’ entertainment in a later correspondence.
Taking note of the fact that he was in the company of men and women who killed, stole and did whatever they wanted to whomever they wanted, he raised his drinking cup over his head and carefully edged his way between two large men who reeked of powerful ale. He was surprised when one of them, a powerfully built, battle scarred Orc with jade skin shot him a glance with his one good eye and nonchalantly stepped forward without a word. Forcing the look of surprise Algeron felt form across his face, he was about the thank the Orc for his courtesy when a slender hand touched the scholar on his shoulder and gave him a gentle shove away from the Orc.
The man who shoved Algeron away wore all black. His sharp facial features, pointed ears and light brown skin immediately told the scholar that he was one of the Dark Elves of Tyrr Kathan, though the fact that this particular elf’s close cut hair was black rather than the usual white caught the scholar by surprise, if only for a moment. The loose fitting black garb and matching long and short blades across the elf’s back likewise told Algeron that this man, like so many other of the Goblet’s patrons, was not one to be trifled with.
Algeron quickly shoved those thoughts aside when silent nods between the Orc and the Elf told the scholar that the Orc moved out of respect for the Elf, and may as well not have even noticed Algeron at all. Glancing down at a large, make shift bag in the elf’s hand, the scholar speculated as to its contents but decided it was not his business to dwell on it any longer when the elf disappeared into the crowd. Still, the brief event warranted documenting, Algeron thought to himself.
Emerging from the other side of the crowd moments later, Melchiah made his way up a flight of stairs at the back of the tavern that would lead him to a narrow hallway lined with doors on both sides for its entire length. Turning left when he reached the branch at the end of the hall, Melchiah moved lightly across the inn’s wooden floors as he approached an unremarkable door the corridor’s dead end. He raised a gloved hand and tapped lightly against the door’s hard surface one time. The built in rectangular viewing port slid open and a pair of apprehensive eyes on the other side of the door scanned the elf up and down before the port was closed again. Melchiah remained stoic, though he was well aware of the light muttering taking place on the other side of the door before it creaked open with a sustained groan to a point where the gap was just large enough to allow the Dark Elf entry.
With some haste the door was shut behind Melchiah and he found himself in one of the inn’s more expensive, better furnished rooms as evidenced by its large collection of exotic rugs and pillows littered about the floor.
He also made note of the gruff looking human in simple mail armor at the door with a hand on the sword at his hip. Not considering him a threat, Melchiah turned away and took a few steps forward towards an older human with shoulder length black hair who sat on a large cushion with a drink in hand. While swilling the wine in his chalice, the man held up a platter filled with various fruits and breads in an offer to his guest.
“No. Thank you.” Melchiah said simply.
“Not one for formalities. I suppose I can understand that quality in a man in your line of work.” He observed while setting his food and drink aside and rising to his feet. “I could see the flames light the night sky from within the city. I assume it is done?”
Melchiah raised the parcel that he carried and presented it to his client.
The man grabbed it from Melchiah’s hand and unwrapped it to find Captain Baird’s lifeless eyes staring back at him. A smirk crossed his face as he rewrapped the head, stood and made a signal to the man at the door, who quietly slid into a side room.
“Some of Baird’s men escaped the ship.” Melchiah said to him.
“Let them roam the city for all I care. If my peacekeepers don’t find and arrest them, I’m certain the city itself will deal with them in time.” Peacekeeper Lord Alistair Belmont stated as he dropped Baird’s head onto a pillow and stepped over to the nearest window where he stared out into the Duros cityscape against the two moons.
“You’ve done well. It appears I owe Arghanas a great debt of gratitude.” Alistair admitted. “With these damned Wyrm cultists gaining influence in my own territory, I can ill-afford some bloody handed brigand like Baird sweeping into my city from the sea and waiting for him to make things worse before I can act within the confines of the King’s law.” A wolfish smirk then crossed Lord Belmont’s aged face as he turned back to Melchiah. “Let it never be said that than an honorable end cannot be reached through dishonorable means.” He stated with a chuckle.
“Indeed.” Melchiah replied just as Belmont’s subordinate reappeared next to him with a satchel in his hands.
Taking it, Melchiah opened the bag and spied a bevy of coins within before closing it back up it and putting it over his shoulder. He silently turned and made his way to the door.
“Assassin.” Lord Belmont called to him.
Melchiah paused and waited.
“Assure Arghanas that there is much more where that came from should he wish to pursue the Wyrm Cult…”
Without even hearing him out, Melchiah continued on and out the door.
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Posted: Fri Feb 29, 2008 9:48 pm
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III
The Cult of Shemsu-Set (scene III)
The high rise buildings and large compounds that distinguished the part of Duros where its more opulent citizens resided from the rest of the city rose like pointed fingers in the sky. Lights peppered across the faces of many of the buildings indicated activity within, even at the late hour when the twin moons had just begun their descent.
Dran moved with some haste in his step, but not so quickly that he would draw suspicious looks from the few people he passed who were going about their late night walks. Much of his trek had him staying off of the main avenues, lest he be spotted and stopped by any of the peacekeeper patrols known to be in the area and face a delay in the task in front of him.
He peered quietly from an alleyway and looked left, then right, then left again to reassure him there was no other soul present save for a pair of armed sentries guarding the twenty foot high iron gate of a lavish compound.
“Hail, brothers.” Dran said to the two sentries upon his approach.
The two men nodded a silent greeting and pushed the gates aside to allow Dran entry. The peacekeeper disguised Wyrm cultist removed his helmet and tucked it under one arm as the gate groaned shut behind him once he was through. Behind the bars, the main courtyard was a plaza with cobblestone ground dominated by an intimidating sculpture of a great serpent with three heads in the center of a fountain with stone skulls lining the circular base. Passing under the shadow of his patron deity’s statue, Dran covered the length of the compound’s front courtyard and vanished into one of the many shadowed doorways that led into the main building.
It hadn’t taken Dran long to reach the large, circular chamber where he knew the person he sought would be found.
Candles burned around the circumference of the massive pool in the center of the room and at the far end stood two female Orcs identical in appearance down to their dark, malachite colored skin and auburn hair that hang freely about their round faces. Even the loose, unremarkable robes that hid their builds were identical. The only way Dran could tell the two apart was the positioning of the intricate serpent tattoos on their faces. One twin had hers on the right side, while the other had her tattoo on the left.
The pair momentarily glanced at the new arrival, who quickly fell to one knee and kept his gaze to the marble floor beneath him in a gesture of submissiveness upon making eye contact.
Dran stole a glance for only a moment to see a towering human male with a bald head and a massive, impressively detailed tattoo of the Wyrm Cult’s three headed god on his pale back emerge from the strange fluid as naked as a newborn baby and without a drop of the liquid on his lean, muscled body. One of the twin Orcs offered him what appeared to be a folded garment. The man silently threw the fine, gilded robe on over his head and after it fell about his shoulders the other Orc handed him a chalice of drink. Dran’s gaze quickly fell back to the floor and he heard one of the Orc sisters, he wasn’t sure which, whisper something to bald man. Footsteps echoed off of the somber walls of the empty ritual chamber and Dran made sure to keep his eyes to the floor. An uneasy feeling came over the pit of his stomach as he waited for the eternity it took for the trio to reach him to pass. He then noticed a pair if pale, bare feet in front of him.
“Rise, my son.” A cold, gravelly voice commanded.
Dran stood and and arced his neck to look Shemsu-Set, lord of Duros’ Wyrm Cult, in his fiery eyes. The cult leader easily towered over the other three people in the room and the stoic expression on his face only added to the air of intimidation that surrounded him.
The Orc sisters, Audra and Nagda, stood at the serpent lord’s left and right sides respectively.
Dran shrank back in the presence of the three, but kept his eye contact.
“What news do you bring me?” Shemsu-Set questioned, raising his drink to his lips and calmly sipping while he waited.
“M…my lord. Captain Quinn Baird’s ship was destroyed. Renato and I have learned that brother Strahm and sister Urda are both dead.”
“Shemsu-Set lowered his drink and passed it left to Audra. “And the prize?” He asked with calm that unnerved Dran far more than any furious reaction he had anticipated.
“W…we don’t know, m’lord. We’re still searching.” He explained.
“It appears the cruel hand of fate has chosen to toy with us.” The cult leader stated while turning his back and staring out over the ritual pool. “Find Rilas.” He ordered Dran. “He may be able to determine what happened. “Once you have something substantial, report back to me.”
Dran was about to open his mouth to say something, but was met with challenging stares from Nagda and Audra. “Yes sir.” He said simply before backing out of the room and disappearing into the hallway.
Some time later the iron gates of the compound moaned yet again as the men positioned outside slowly pulled them open. Dran walked a few paces ahead of a gaunt figure whose head and face were obscured by a hooded cloak. Dran peered back to make sure the hooded cultist was still behind him as the two vanished into the alleys and began making their way back towards the dock. While the hooded man kept moving Dran paused for a moment when a shadow passed overhead through the moonlight as something moved quickly from one rooftop to another. Disregarding it as a bird, he continued onward.
On the rooftops, Melchiah landed quietly in a kneeling position after clearing the gap that made up the alley below. Upon standing, he glanced at the massive Wyrm Cult compound momentarily before clutching the bag over his shoulder and taking off in a run for the next rooftop.
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