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CALM BEFORE THE STORM
Posted: 19 Mar 2007 06:15 PM |
"He has been warned once already sir. It appears he is still going to continue on his current course of actions."
The elf stared at the figure across the table as it continued to eat his meal without much of an acknowledgment.
"We have representatives getting into position as we speak sir. Most are just waiting for the final word to come before they commence."
Once again no reply. Only the sound of the chewing of meat could be heard in the chamber.
"They have been instructed not to raise the attention of the large one as per your request sir.
That will however make things a little more difficult, though not impossible."
"If there is anything else sir, Ill get back to the Port and continue my search for him."
The gentle clink of silverware being laid down upon an empty plate could be heard from across the table.
"Send him one more warning. Make this one a bit more extravagant so to speak. Oh and Mr. Thylenedir? If he doesn't heed this one. Give the final word. I do think our dear Mister Jaxon will be in need of a cure."
The elf bowed and turned with a flash. As he walked out of the chamber he could not hide the grin he had on his face. He did love his job. |
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Re: CALM BEFORE THE STORM
Posted: 19 Mar 2007 09:35 PM |
(( Bump for dramatic effect  )) |
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Re: CALM BEFORE THE STORM
Posted: 19 Mar 2007 10:10 PM |
The stairs to the chamber were well lit. Each step was made of marble. Various portraits hung in-between the wall mounted torches. Underneath each portrait a birth date, followed by a date of death. Some of the faces were young, some old. Human, orc, dwarven, elf, celestial, demonic. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to those that were painted. All were done with extreme care and detail.
His detail. Every last wrinkle. Every last blemish on the skin. It was there. Each of his brush strokes were like a swipe of a blade in his mind. There was something missing however in each. Only he knew what it was. No one else did. He relished that. He almost giggled. Had it not been for the knock on the door to his chamber he would have.
"Enter."
He said as he laid down his paint brush. He quickly covered his latest work.
In walked Mr. Thylenedir. His suit finely tailored. It was perfectly fitted to his physique. His walk was a walk of confidence. He bowed sharply and gave his report.
"The message was delivered sir."
He cleared his throat. A bit of sweat formed on his brow as he thought of the way to word his next statement.
"He has declined our offer sir."
A soft sigh was heard across from the chamber.
"The warning was embellished with a gift of sorts sir, as per your request. Apparently one of his allies had staked out the local tavern in Buckshire. His name was Stab sir. Our operative took note of him speaking with another gentleman by the name of Greary with regards to Mister Jaxon's current situation."
Thylenedir paused briefly and swallowed.
"Our operative waited until the Greary fellow departed to make his move. He apparently informed the young man that he had some information. The lad fell for the ruse and was exterminated."
Again a pause. Thylenedir's stomach churned.
"Our operative apparently removed the young fellow's face. He then offered that as a warning to Mister Jaxon. He was not amused sir."
A chuckle could be heard.
"His face you say?"
The laughter grew louder.
"Oh now that was very creative. Yes indeed. I do love people that enjoy their work, don't you?"
"Quite sir. Once again sir as per your instruction the final word was given."
"Excellent. Please notify my when it is done. Until then I do not wished to be disturbed."
"Yes sir. Of course."
" Oh and Mr. Thylenedir. Bring me a new canvas. I believe I shall be adding a new portrait to my collection."
A new portrait. This one will be special. This one will be enjoyable. |
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Re: CALM BEFORE THE STORM
Posted: 03 Apr 2007 04:52 PM |
" Rumpus failed sir. The target was crafty....used the shadows to his advantage. She is tucked away licking her wounds. She said she is going to give it another go if she gets the chance. That is if one of the others dont get him first. Another group failed earlier today as well. They were very close. Seems Jaxon has himself some help A mage named Salt and an orc warrior named Ophelia. We may have to remove them as well to get to Jaxon."
"I dont want any unwanted attention Mister Bugby. Do so only if it is absolutely necessary." Thylenedir said.
Bugby nodded in response.
"Who do we have lined up next for Mister Jaxon?"
Bugby grinned.
"Pitter Patter is getting close. However I have a feeling the Ranger and the Noble are also zeroing in on him. The Professor is expected to get to the Buck by the end of the week."
"Excellent. Keep me informed Mister Bugby. The master awaits the word when it is done. I do hope we do not keep him waiting."
Bugby bowed and exited the tavern. Secretly he wanted them all to fail. He wanted to be the one to bring Jaxon in. He would however wait his turn. He hoped that the little hin had some of that Guyver luck left in him. If he did Bugby wassure it would run out when he saw him face to face for the last time. |
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Re: CALM BEFORE THE STORM
Posted: 03 Apr 2007 04:53 PM |
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Re: CALM BEFORE THE STORM
Posted: 28 May 2007 11:34 PM |
His strokes were flawless. His focus unending. His masterpiece. He paused and admired what he had done so far....
~ Midor was changing. Though he was still young he remembered the times before Vidus took power. The time of the Azure Lights. A time of hero's.
How quickly things changed. The revelation that Father Fetter was one with evil itself. Friel's undead march on Midor. The attacks of the Black Hand on the city. The very beauty of Midor had been its downfall.
Its freedom had become its undoing. With each tragic event, more freedoms were taken away.
Changes in the government. The magistrate. The clergy. Most of all....changes in the people. It was plain to see, there would be those that were to be unwelcome. Those that were labeled so were met with executions or prison.
Fear forced many to leave the White City. As for him, he had no family. He made his way as an apprentice to the local smith. He slept in a spare cot in the infirmary.
Perhaps it was fate. For had it not been for those very conditions he would never have found his calling.
It was a public execution. Not unlike many. This one however was odd. A strange man dressed in black was to be executed. From what he had gathered. A dwarf...a female dwarf by the name of Loli was to do it.
He did not bother for more details. He knew neither of those involved. He had much work to do. The Armies of Midor had put in massive requests for weapons and armor. Work was plentiful. On this day he was in charge of the local shop.
His master had gone to purchase more metals. He heard the usual nosies of crowds gathering and gasps and cheers as each convict met his end. It didnt phase him. He always had intense focus. He continued banging away. He was a perfectionist.
His thoughts drifted to what his life would be. Was it this? Working under a hot fire forever in a city that was getting worse by the day?
The door of the shop opened slowly. He turned and saw a massive orc with white hair. His strides were twice as long as a normal man. He seemed to be looking down whispering to someone. Who that was was he couldn't tell. The smoke from the forge blocked much of his view.
He coughed lightly. The orc turned his head quickly and snorted at the child. It looked back down and whispered more. It was at that moment he saw her. She was dressed in red leather. The orc must have had some knowledge as well for just before her first swipe the creature snarled. It was too late though,
The orc was a bloody mess within seconds. Then another attacker in red appeared. They both sliced at the orc with precision. Its ears...mouth...hands. The white haired monster fought back as best as he could but to no avail. All of a sudden a thrid appeared. This one was different,
He was a hin. He struck at the two assaulting the orc with two blades. Try as he might they continued to take the orc down until he lay a on the ground barely clinging to life. They turned their attention to the hin. With a blink the hin vanished and one the red clad warriors was about to give chase but the female stopped him.
"Leave him. The others will track him down. Let us focus on this one!" She said as the orc lay staring at his attackers.
What he saw next was mesmerizing. The carving into the orcs chest. The slicing of tendons. The pouring of acid. Most might think it to horrific to view. He did not. He was in awe. He took it all in as if he were reading a book he could not put down. When they were done the female in red looked over and gave a wink to the young apprentice.
She and her partner were gone before he could say anything. He didnt have to he knew who and what he had just seen.
The legendary Fire Knives.
....too be continued. |
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Re: CALM BEFORE THE STORM
Posted: 17 Jun 2007 09:11 AM |
~ The colors he chose were perfect. Just the right mix. His attention to detail was almost obsessive. No. It had to be this way. It was his final work. It must be perfect. ~
His training was intense. He loved every second of it. The thought of being part of a guild like the Knives in Midor gave him such a rush and a sense of purpose. He never felt this before. He followed his masters every beck and call. There was no job too difficult or to menial. He had found his adopted family. They had taken him in. He wasn't about to loose this. For months he had been assigned to Sirac. He learned all the proper techniques a proper scamp and rogue should know. He was being taught by one of the best. He absorbed it all like a sponge. He felt especially blessed because of Sirac's relationship with Lord Targath. Sirac was the second in command. That meant he spoke with the Lord of the Knives on a regular basis. That meant he would see the lord himself. What a rush.
Years passed. His life couldn't get any better. He advanced very quickly. He gained respect and trust within the guild. Day after day he was privy to all secret dealings with the Knives, Masks, and Black Hand. All the while Midor was slowly changing. Changing into something that would take away all he had worked for. Take away all he really had.
It all started at the Unicorn Inn...... |
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Re: CALM BEFORE THE STORM
Posted: 12 Aug 2007 04:39 PM |
Fire Knives Guild House*
The figure lay there with shallow breath. His skin leathery and wrinkled. His eyes sunken. His hair once speckled with gray now was white and thin. Each ragged cough from his mouth seemed to sap even more strength from him. As the mages and healers stood over him they could only watch as the leader stepped closer and closer to death. Lord Targreth was dying.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~ The colors he chose were perfect. Just the right mix. His attention to detail was almost obsessive. No. It had to be this way. It was his final work. It must be perfect. ~
As he made his way into the Unicorn Inn he could already see that something was amiss. As he stepped into the Knives hallway he saw Sirac ordering various knives to evacuate. There was a sense of urgency. He saw his friend Jeremiah heading past him, his face sheet white. He would have asked him what was happening if not for the fact that Jeremiah rarely spoke at all. With eyes wide he heard Sirac yell at him.
"Help Vella. Make it quick. We are not returning here again."
He slowly nodded. Still not fully grasping what had happened. He scurried to the shop where Vella sold her goods. She had already packed most of her inventory. She ordered him to go into the cellar beneath her shop to make sure there was nothing left. With a nod he did so. As he scanned through the tight quarters of the cellar he heard the alarm. It was followed by an explosion. The sounds of yelling were heard loud and clear even from the cellars. Fear struck his heart. Sweat ran from his brow. Just than he heard a voice shout down from the shop.
"Stay there!"
The trap door to the cellar slammed shut. He heard heard the lock snap shut. He ran to the door only to push on it helplessly. It was dark. There was no other way out.
The sounds of battle rages on from above. He heard the screams of Vella as she was pummeled. A bloodied Vella stood on one knee her back to the trap door barely visible. The red knight stood above her with his mace readied for the deathblow. It was then that Sirac appeared like a phantom. He was not detected. He was a master of the shadows. Vella made no notice of him. Her eyes still on the the knight. With a blink, Sirac attacked the knight. His blade strokes were precise. One to the kidney, the other piercing the backside of his ribcage. He fell loudly. Vella gave a look of relief while Sirac a look of dark thought. He knew the noise would draw attention......and that it did. As he reached to grab Vella he already heard the knights coming their way. This was the end. There was no way out. Vella turned her gaze to the trap door beginning to reach for it when a black haze surrounded her and she felt the grasp of a hand grab her. She was dragged backward into this haze all the while her eyes staring at the trap door until it disappeared from view.
He pounded on the trap door until his fists were covered with blood. His voice raspy from yelling. He heard their footsteps get closer. He heard the lock to the trap door snapping open. The door slowly opened as light came down upon his shielded eyes. His first view was a maniacal grin. The knight stood above him staring.
"Well, what have we here...a little scamp?" The knight said with pleasure.
"What shall we do with him Captain Sanner?" Another piped in.
"Oh....I think Ill deal with this one personally." His eyes never blinked. They were filled with what he had in store for the thief.
As he was dragged up from the cellar he looked around for a way to escape. All he saw was the lifeless forms of those that fell before the Red Sword. Where was his family? Where were his friends? How could they leave him to this fate? His heart sank. They had left him. he was alone. The unknown lay before once again. There was only one thing that would keep him alive. That was hatred. Hatred for the ones who left him behind. That would be more than enough to make a deal. |
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