Scattered Embers: Flames Rekindled (story)

[Sytze]

Sytze spluttered the berries from his mouth. “So long?! That…that’s almost an entire day! Then we’ve wasted a lot of time! Too much time!” Sytze exclaimed loudly, shocked by this fact he had to absorb so abruptly. “This wasn’t the intention at all! No, this isn’t what was supposed to happen,” he continued on, almost rambling. His mood had suddenly changed from calm and relaxed to frantic and concerned.

Amara faced him with a look of trepidation. She had no idea what to do or say to Sytze. He had obviously been in a hurry ever since she’d met him, but that he was this driven to travel, to continue on, she had not realised. “Calm down, please,” Amara shushed to the young rogue, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong, what plagues your thoughts, and what so obviously seems to haunt you.”

“No!” Sytze hissed back and threw Amara’s hand of his shoulder, almost hitting her square in the face. Her summoned wolf growled at Sytze in response, but a visibly shaken Amara managed to urge the wolf to remain put. “I won’t! I shouldn’t!” Sytze continued on, by now screaming. So caught up in himself, he paced to the nearby tree and leaned against it, face downwards, lost in thoughts. Gods, a whole day! Gone within a moment’s notice. That is way too much! Why oh why did I involve myself in that battle, why oh why did I come along with those druids and now with her. Stupid, stupid curiosity! He turned around and furiously kicked a small stone away.

Although caught up in his own thoughts, his eyes followed the stone. It missed the wolf by a mere hair and hit the nearby tree with a nasty loud crack. Realising what was happening, and what he was unconsciously doing, he came to a sudden halt. This wasn’t like him, he didn’t act like this. Sytze took a deep breath and turned to face a gloomy Amara, who was staring at him, baffled. Regret and sorrow flooded his mind as he watched the druid.

“I…I am sorry, Amara. I had no right to lash out to you like that,” Sytze sighed. “This is not how I normally am. Really” The words of apology left his lips with great trouble. It wasn’t often that he apologized to anyone, yet Amara hadn’t deserved this kind of treatment whatsoever.

No, normally I am most definitely not like this. He reasoned to himself. I should be calm. Calculating. For god’s sake, I managed to tick Linvail off with that annoyingly calm and even disparaging behaviour of mine! Yet why did I become so emotionally this time? Why!?

He didn’t had the time to answer his own questions, for Amara pulled him back to the here and now with her soft voice. “It’s okay,” she smiled, even though she was still a bit shaken. “I had no right to pry into your business,” she walked to her belongings and gathered a few scrolls laying silently on the grass. She was done with this conversation, for as far you could’ve called it a conversation. Silence might serve us better than such discussions, she reasoned.

“Perhaps you have no right to pry in my business,” Sytze mused, yet his voice was still sharp. “But neither do I have the right to keep you completely in the dark. You travel with me and therefore you are exposed to the same risks. I’m not really willing to tell you everything, because that’s safer for you, as for me, but I indeed left Atkathla for a reason.” He paused for a moment, not really certain what and what not to tell her.

“And that reason is?” Amara asked inquisitively, her curiosity winning over her trepidation and caution.

“That I am being hunted,” the rogue answered blandly, though reluctantly. He walked to his belongings, sheathed his dagger on his back and grabbed his katana. It was time they got moving. There would enough time to talk while they were travelling.

As a habit, Sytze held his katana in front of his face and examined it carefully for possible flaws. The sword was truly beautiful, almost blessed. For a katana is was quite thin and very light. The blade looked as if it could be snapped in two without too much effort, yet it had holds its own in fights against the broadest of swords. Not that Sytze used the katana to block a frontal assault, it served more as a deflector, thereby minimizing the risk of damaging the blade. Speed and agility were his trademarks, not strength. For his personal fighting style, his peculiar katana served him extremely well. The rogue’s eyes wandered over the blade. Its hilt was finely decorated. Red colours adorned the black background, flooding over it as paint dripping on an oil painting, creating the most exotic of figures and lines. A small piece, of what seemed to be a part of a flag or banner, hung carelessly at the end of the hilt. In battle, it would dance, dance like the fighter that wielded it. The blade itself was, in contrast to its hilt, almost brightest of silver. Yet, just like the hilt, it was adorned with beautiful ornaments. Being satisfied with the katana’s condition, Sytze sheathed it in its saya, which, like his dagger, also hung crossed on his back.

“We have to get going,” Sytze stated firmly, masquerading his true feelings and thoughts..

Amara felt like he was giving her an order, but decided not to bicker about it. “Very well,” she responded submissively. “But can you tell me who’s hunting you? Perhaps I can even help,” she added warmly, while gathered the remaining of her belongings.

“No you can’t. And even if you could, I would not allow it,” the rogue replied gloomy. His life was certainly dear to him, but so were his friends’ lives. Perhaps there was still a way to avoid needless bloodshed, fleeing being one of those ways. And if that way was walkable, he would surely take it without a second thought.

“I am sorry to hear that,” Amara replied, but received no answer. She watched directly in Sytze’s dark brown eyes and noticed how he was fighting an inner conflict. Regret, sorrow and fear seemed to coil in his pupils, driving the little twinkle in his eyes farther away with each minute. A feeling of compassion nestled in the druid’s body as she saw the archer stand there so lost. Automatically her thoughts went back to her Druid Grove, but as she realised what had happened there, she, too, became saddened by life’s current path.

“Lets get going, shall we.” Amara said absently and she paced in Tethyr’s direction. Sytze followed wordlessly, as did Amara’s summoned wolf. Neither of the two companions spoke for a long time as they travelled through the woods, lost in their own thoughts.

[The Z]

Up ahead on the trail lay the makeshift orcish encampment. It appeared as though the army was in the process of transferring supplies and equipment from its previous camp, as deadly efficient as it always had been. Erudish stalked amongst the embers and stumps of mangled trees that had been gorged upon by fire, hunting for his prey. Soldiers were scattered about the premises, either lopping down trees or fiddling with siege machinery. Those that noticed the half-orc boldly striding through their ranks looked on him with a mixture of shock and disgust, but all seemed content to steer clear from his path; though he had fallen, there remained an intimate respect for the warrior. Despite his newfound agenda, he had done much for his tribe and legion.

Erudish now stood in what looked to be the center of the clearing. Orcs ran to and fro, engrossed in their business, ignoring the half-orc who haunted their midst. An outcast he was, but an enemy he was not – he’d proven himself loyal to the race repeatedly in the years past. Like a specter of an abyssal warrior, he silently slammed his axe shaft first into the ground and leaned upon the weapon, peering out from on top of it, searching.

“Welcome to my little camp, half-breed.”

Morguth tapped his former comrade’s shoulder, who whirled around to face the black orc, great axe in hand. He now wore plate armor, not unlike the set Erudish wore, and his falchion had been polished to the point where oneself could be clearly seen in it. The bottom edges of it were serrated and the sapphire pommel jewel that adorned the butt-end of the handle reflected the hilt’s golden hue. No orc could have crafted such a weapon – an ordinary, unrefined falchion, yes, a balanced, glimmering one, no. In his other hand, he clutched a longsword, the one he had assailed the general with before. Slowly, all eyes were directed at the two fighters who glared at each other in the middle of the encampment.

“Morguth,” Erudish growled, his voice dripping with venom, “You know why I’m here.”

“No, as a matter of fact I don’t. I figured you’d be fornicating with little girls right about now,” came the reply, which was accented by the Black Orc’s brutish smile and hoarse laughter. The half-orc was not amused.

“Cut with the fodder. Your time has come, wretch.”

A massive overhand slice barreled down upon Morguth, who crossed his weapons and raised them, barely blocking the uncannily strong attack. For a moment, the warriors were locked together and icily they looked at one another with unfiltered hatred.

“Why’d you do it Morguth? Didn’t think you could beat me in a fair contest?” Erudish’s voice grew louder and more aggressive with every word as he pushed with all his might into his opponent, “Didn’t think our society’s rules were to be followed?” he pressed closer still, sneering, “Answer me, peon!”

The Black Orc kicked the slightly smaller warrior’s legs out, sending him tumbling to the ground, then leapt on top of him and attempted to deliver a fatal thrust with both his weapons only to find the shaft of an axe rammed into his gut, which dented the armor and winded him. Erudish knocked the falchion out of the other warrior’s hand with a well-placed blow with the bottom of the axe, but Morguth regained his breath quickly and ripped the axe from the half-orc’s hands.

“You became obsolete, half-breed,” he hissed, breathing hard and feeling that his victory was at hand, “My masters have no further use for you.”

The deathblow came, a savage slash meant to cleave the prone fighter’s head in two. To the Black Orc’s surprise sparks showered the ground as his sword careened into the falchion that Erudish now wielded, screeching in protest over the ever-strident wailing that two magical weapons exude when clashing with each other. The half-orc planted both his feet upon Morguth's chest and sent the Black Orc airborne with a mighty heave from his legs. Both now stood where they had before the bout, eager to finish each other off.

“You aren’t as weak as most of your kind is, half-breed,” stated the newly appointed general vehemently with a touch of admiration.

“Most people who have held your position aren’t weak. But you bucked the trend, hell spawn. Betrayal is for cowards!”

Morguth’s eyes narrowed, “You are no better considering you betrayed your own race! You have no honor!”

“True orcs know no honor! There is only glorious battle!”

The enraged pair flew at each other once more under the ravenous eyes of the bloodthirsty legion.

[Ravager]

He headed west towards Ormath through the wild mountain paths and the Shining Plains. A long and mostly uneventful trek hitching a ride with a merchant's travelling caravan. No monsters just a lame mule that had injured itself on the treacherous rubble.
Eventually the caravan reached Ormath and Delgath gladly parted company with the merchants. There was no temple dedicated to Loviatar here although the local priests could not be entrusted with his mission. Any possibility of spread rumours may reveal his presence.
I must get a disguise to remain unnoticed here thought Delgath and look around for adventuring companies or mercenaries.

So Delgath hid anything that may have marked him as a Loviatan, including his holy symbol and headed towards the local guilds to gather information. The experience proved fruitless. No-one knew anything about the rebels, here and Delgath believed none here were worthy of his presence in their group.

Next he headed for the taverns and was soon to find out more information to aid him in his quest...

[Aegis]

Aegis stood next to Gypsy, leaning heavily against the shaft of his glaive, watching Erudish exit the throne room. It was empty now, save for the floral designs that had always patterned the wall. As soon as the hulking half-orc was no longer in sight, Aegis' body sagged against his weapon, and let out a tired groan.

"Aw, come on sweetie. You can't be that sore." Gypsy smiled, brushed a finger along his arm, just under the dragon-skull pauldroon on his shoulder. Aegis glanced towards the woman, an offered a fatigued grin as she walked over to wear Amelie lye on the floor.

"So, what do you think?" Aegis walked towards the nearest wall of the room, slumping against it, letting his body slide down to the floor. Once on the floor, he noticed the amount of dust that had accumulated on his clothes, and gave a tiny moan, which Gypsy pretended to ignore.

The exotic woman knelt beside the dozing child, looking at her with a fondness that only a woman could give a child. She brushed her hand gently across Amelie's forehead, returning a stray hair back to the black mass. "She's a lovely child."

Aegis glanced across the room to Gypsy.

"Oh, don't misunderstand hon. I'm nowhere near ready to give up such a lovely life of excitement, peril and near death experiences." Gypsy smiled warmly as she looked upon the half-elven child. "But, someday, perhaps."

Aegis quirked a brow, and leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. "Well, just give me plenty of warning before that day comes, alright. I would hate to have to find a new partner on short notice."

As the two companions conversed, the voices went from a dull muffle, to ringing clearly in Amelie's ears. Like many children, she kept her eyes closed, waiting to pick up any bit of the discussion that might be interesting: a child's curiosity. She recalled her early questioning of Gypsy, and whether she loved Aegis or not, and also how the woman had avoided answering the question. To Amelie's dismay, the way the conversation was heading, she wouldn't learn an answer to her question this way, either. Regardless, she decided to lay still, letting Gypsy continue to run a soothing hand through her hair, pretending for the moment that she was back with her own mother, relishing in the sweetness of the moment.

"Anyway, dear, if I might interrupt that clock of yours…" Gypsy shot a glance of playful hatred towards her male companion at the remark. "but, what do you suppose of this 'bottle gnome' situation?"

Gypsy shrugged. "It's not all that different from our usual lot. After all, the only reason we're in Tethyr was to find some excitement…"

"And this is the sort of excitement that doesn't have a legion of angry Black Orcs breathing down our necks." Aegis finished the woman's thought. "And Twinkle-Toes? Think we can trust him?"

Gypsy offered the same resigned shrug as before. "My guess is as good as yours, hon. Though, as long as Squee is involved, I think the idea that we might possibly be under a demonic gaes will be enough for him to cooperate."

"And if we're not?"

"Don't worry, dear." Gypsy turned to Aegis, her emerald eyes shining brightly. "I'll protect you." Aegis smiled.

Amelie felt that she wouldn't learn much more pretending to be asleep then she would if she was awake. She took this moment to feign waking up. She turned her head towards Gypsy, slightly interrupting the woman's gentle strokes, and opened her eyes, giving her best misty expression. Gypsy gave Amelie one last gentle stroke along her hair, before helping the young child sit up straight.

"I was wondering when you'd join us again."

[The Z]

A low slice to Morguth’s midsection was parried deftly and countered with a nifty jab that nearly caught Erudish in the gut. Flurries of thrusts and slashes met scores of deflections and dodges. The two were equal in raw ability; both knew that the first blow would come shortly on the heels of the first mistake. Unlike the half-orc’s earlier battle with Squee, there was nothing graceful in this bout. It was two immensely powerful fighters who primarily utilized strength and intrinsic knowledge of battle fighting to overwhelm their opponents. Unfortunately, neither was the type of warrior that was overcome that easily, which was evident as they clutched, grabbed, and punched each other, unable to find their target with weapons. Every window of opportunity was slammed shut almost as quickly as it had appeared, met by empty space or steel.

Morguth swung his blade in a wide arc in front of him, forcing Erudish back and putting a few paces distance between the two. Knowing that a frontal assault would be fruitless (an exercise in futility), he backpedaled and pulled a silvery amulet from under his armor. A six-pointed star, it glowed with an abyssal light, even against the fiery backdrop of the Druid Grove, which still burnt – a warning to any passerby that dared to wander close. Before the half-orc could register the trinket, a cone of ice erupted from his foe’s fingers, upon which the artifact was now entwined.

To the Black Orc’s surprise, Erudish charged brazenly into the spell, letting the cold envelop him. When the haze faded, the former general leapt into his successor, ice bristling on all parts of his body. Streaks of blood marked his face, blistered by the frost that had shot past, but the mighty fighter appeared unphased by the attack. As Morguth felt Erudish slam into his torso, he felt as though a black dragon had rammed into him. The impact winded him to the point where he was numb and his sword clattered to the ground. A gasp for air quickly turned into a cry of agony as the two crashed through a tree into the blazing inferno that surrounded the clearing – a ring of fiery death.

Orcs cried hoarse encouragements and taunts from the sidelines, arguing violently over who would emerge from the contest victorious, but was unintelligible to Erudish; the melting ice that veiled his ears muffled them. Knowing that the layer of ice that protected him was dissipating fast, he made his way to the screaming Morguth who was rushing back to the clearing. Praying that his muscles wouldn’t tear from the effort due to the numbing cold that coursed through them, Erudish leapt in front of him, ignoring the frenzied burning and freezing that simultaneously wracked his body. The falchion now had both hands around its hilt as the half-orc shoved the blade through the burning soldier’s armor. Morguth seemed to have been baiting the other fighter into making such a move. As Erudish leaned into the attack, he whipped a dagger from a hidden compartment built into his plate and jammed it into the other’s back.

Now both howled in pain as blood poured from their open wounds. They were frozen and burnt, beaten and slashed. The Black Orc began pounding the smaller fighter, who yanked the falchion from the other’s belly. Crimson splattered and spewed from the gaping cut, but Morguth fought as if it didn’t exist, breaking Erudish’s nose with a brutal blow that sent the half-orc staggering back. But the assault did not end there. Another shot came, one that dented his armor, winding him and leaving the Black Orc with a bleeding hand. Yet one more came to the eye this time.

Erudish couldn’t see through the crimson haze that now shrouded one eye. The other had watered up from the heat so much so that the combination of the two dazed him. As the punches mounted and as his life seeped out, he dully felt himself stumble to the ground. Whether it was because Morguth had thrown him or because he simply had no strength left, he couldn’t tell. His vision was disturbed; he couldn’t hear anything but the roaring flames. The warrior braced himself for inevitable death and an amusing vision of Amelie in the care of Aegis passed briefly through his mind before he ‘felt’ his axe calling to him. Knowing that his last hope hinged upon the weapon that had provided salvation so often, he open his dried, cracked lips to speak. Weakly, blindly, he beckoned the artifact to his side.

“To me. Come.”

As suddenly as the instinct had come, his axe rested comfortably in his hands. It comforted him, much like milk soothes an infant - a solid object to lean upon. Erudish swung the weapon to clear a path so he could stand, and hauled himself from the charred forest floor. Through his blasted eyesight a black blur glared at him from the clouds of crimson and orange that rumbled about. Like it had done many times that day, the axe sung through the air. A vicious vibration shot down the shaft and into Erudish’s muscular arm. Through the weapon, he could feel flesh and bone and despite his maligned hearing, the squelching sound of steel through a body greeted the half-orc, much to his relief. Sapped of all willpower, the former general let go of the artifact.

The blur melted into the ground and became a part of the distorting collage. For a moment, time halted, the uproar of the legion slowed and Erudish stood alone, a symbol of triumph, a victim of sacrifice. For a brief, eternal second, the warrior could only hear his heart throb and slow down. Then, like a broken wall, he crumbled to his knees, staring into the strange array of colors that bombarded him. The half-orc saw his mother before him, beckoning him to join her in joy – something that had eluded the two souls since his birth. Athkatla was where he was, only this time the people didn’t persecute him. They treated him as an equal. He reached for her hand anxious to find this unfound haven. Erudish fell face first into the dirt, his last conscious thought a bizarre image of Amelie, his mother, and him living peacefully away from the torrid hate that plagued Faerun.

The fantasy shattered, replaced by a twisted caricature of a crippled mage that laughed at the broken fighter. The wizard pointed at him as if to say, ‘you are mine’. Slowly, his spirit faded, pulled from him like a newborn from its mother and it descended into the deep reaches of the abyss. Dark tormented eyes clogged with blood drooped and finally closed.

Like a ghost, the axe, possessed of a life of its own silently stalked its way back to the throne room, now ownerless.

[Cuchulain82]

Setanta watched. He had been stalking the orcs for two days, picking off the occasional stray guard or lost soldier. He was sure that this was the right group of orcs to be following, and it was as if Sune herself was willing him to follow them. These orc were bigger and leaner than the usual orc, but...

...but something wasn't right. He knew that the half-orc was the key to all this, but the half-orc was no where to be found! How can this half orc lead this legion so seamlessly, as in the vision, if he wasn't here?! I'm a doer, not a thinker. Setanta said to himself, Brains are not my strong suit. However, at that moment, Setanta's two days of patience paid off.

Suddenly, from the other side of the camp, the half orc appeared. Excellent Setanta thought. He'll go to sleep, I'll grab him, and then we'll all come to an understanding. This seemed like a straightforward answer, but suddenly things changed. The half orc strode into camp, but the soldiers didn't look at him like a leader- they looked at him with fear, like a ghost! He strode into the center of camp, and shortly thereafter started a melee.

I get it... the master has returned to reclaim his seat of power.

Setanta needed a better position to watch what happened. He also needed to be better prepared. Reaching into his pack Setanta pulled out a pair of soft boots, two bracelets and a set of bracers. He pulled his traveling boots off and stowed them, putting the new boots on. Then he slipped the bracers on and clipped the bracelets into grooves on them. There we go. Move quick and quiet, hit fast and hard. All the while he watched the fight. That half orc was skilled with an axe, but he was having trouble with his opponent.

Setanta got up and started to trot around camp. He wanted to be where the half orc had come from, just in case he decided to leave the same way. Working his way silently around the camp he watched the fight, and in doing so almost tripped over the others.

Suddenly, not 15 yards away, were others. Two humans and a gnome. Wait, those were half elves... and another smaller half elf? What was going on here. They were talking, bantering back and forth, and the smaler figure slept. Setanta looked at that little figure again... she looked like... the woman from his vision! The one the half orc had killed! So, this was why he was here- that little girl was the key, the half orc was to be done away with, and the others... well, they're in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Setanta checked the long daggers on his back and the short sword on his hip. Everything was right, so now it was time to go. Mumbling a few words of hope to Sune- When did I get so religious? he thought- he moved into position behind the two talking elves...

[The Z]

Twisting down a winding tunnel, Erudish fell into a bottomless pit, trapped in an eternal stasis with nothing to occupy him but a flood of memories that cascaded upon his mind. Others, mostly dwarves, floated within the sphere as caricatures – shattered emblems of their former selves. They observed the newcomer for a moment, than returned to converse amongst themselves in hushed tones. Though not dark, the shell that housed them disconcerted the abyss that lay outside the mindless hell. All attempts to peer beyond the sphere failed. Freedom, it seemed, did not exist in this barren world of nothingness, this prison that suppressed life beyond tormented spirits.

Erudish let the bizarre serenity overtake his consciousness and was slipping silently into a reverie when his thoughts were interrupted by a delicate whisper that seemed to brush his ears like a playful gust of wind. Turning from side to side and finding that no one was in his vicinity, the half-orc concluded that the voice came from the keeper of this tomb.

“Welcome to my vault of souls, general.”

Softly, it came once more.

“Despite your inherent greatness, you are not of the caliber that I have sought to secure for so long. Unfortunately, this flaw will chain you to my prison for as long as it exists. I sincerely hope that you adore reflecting upon your brief foray in life for eternity.”

“I swear upon my life that this prison will not be my final resting point! As long as I’m living---“

The voice laughed and Erudish felt all the air in his lungs escape, sucked from him by an invisible force.

“For all intents and purposes, my dear half-orc, you are dead. Again, I sincerely hope you enjoy your stay. In time, you will accept your fate. Oh and incidentally, do play nice with the horde of dwarves that I have procured for my amusement.”


************************************************** *************

Amelie stared at the floating axe that had entered the throne room for only a split second before realizing what had befallen her guardian. Crushed, she let out a strangled cry of dismay and hurried over to examine the weapon. Aegis and Gypsy exchanged a glance of recognition and grimly followed the child, expecting an outburst of tears and wailing. The artifact now clattered to the ground having fulfilled its purpose. There was no eerie glow anymore. All that remained were the incoherent runes, the battle-worn blade, and streaks of blood that slid down the shaft and dripped to the ground. Instead of weeping, however, Amelie simply collapsed to the ground, incapable of rising. She, herself did not expect such a reaction, but the knowledge that everything that had ever treated her well was now gone overshadowed her mournful despair.

Gypsy laid her hand upon the child’s shoulder only to have it coldly brushed away. Surprised, she turned to her friend, who simply shrugged his shoulders. Aegis’ grey eyes were tinted with a touch of sorrow, but most of this was for Amelie, not for their short-lived comrade’s death. Though a vicious barb hung on his tongue, he refrained from blurting it out, for fear of being insensitive to the child who was now their responsibility. She frowned and set herself down on the chill stone floor, determined to soothe the maelstrom of emotions that no doubt tormented their delicate companion. Shockingly enough, it was Amelie who spoke first.

“Why did he always have to go and fight? Why couldn’t he stay with me and teach me things of the world? Why do they always have to fight?”

Though Gypsy assumed that the half-elf was alluding to Erudish, the child knew that deep within her heart, these questions were partially influenced by the recent passing of her father. This wound had come too quickly on the heels of other scars that hadn’t healed; quite suddenly, death was all too familiar – no tears could be shed for an occurrence that was second nature. She could hardly understand the torrid emotions; they bombarded her, painful and enigmatic at the same time. Soft words interrupted her thoughts.

“I guess that’s what he was. He was a fighter; all he knew was how to battle. But I guess he was more than that to you. ”

Aegis felt that he had to try and help the child equally as much as his friend and chipped in his thoughts, “Oh, he also knew how to take care of little girls too. I still don’t get how you put up with his smell Amelie. His breath was just…ughhh.” The remembrance of the half-orc’s stench was apparently too revolting to think of.

The girl managed to force a small smile and it curled from her lips as a dove unfolds its wings - subtle yet majestic. She knew that the force of Erudish and her father’s death had not fully hit her yet and it’d be safer to sort out her pain-wracked countenance away from a neighboring Orcish legion.

“We’d best be going. Mourning can come later,” she stated silently.

Aegis and Gypsy nodded and were about to gather their gear when a man stepped forth from the shadows, oozing with hostility. All three stared at this newcomer, who wore a dull, worn pack as well as a set of complicated bracers that possessed a complimentary set of bracelets. Two wicked daggers were bared, held expertly in his hands. Blue eyes passed quickly from Amelie, to Aegis’ glaive, to Gypsy’s weapons and then slowly back to Amelie.

“Wherever you’re going, child, it will be with me and not these two…”

[Aegis]

"Oh, son-of-a-"

"Dear!" Gypsy cut Aegis off before he could finish the particular curse. She turned her emerald eyes back towards the newcomer. "This isn't anything we can't handle."

"I know, I know." Aegis took a step forward, one hand pushing Amelie behind him and Gypsy. The young girl clutched onto the exotic woman's leg tightly, peaking her head between her two protectors. "It's just that this is becoming ridiculous."

"How do you figure, hon?"

"Well, so far tonight I've fought an angry as Bhaal Half-Orc, had a building fall on top of me, fought a Demon Gnome, Chocked by the same angry Half-Orc, and now this!"

Gypsy flashed a small grin towards her companion. "Finished?"

Aegis shook his head. "I'm tired, sore and looking forward to getting back to Windhaven!" The man took a deep breath, grabbed his glaive with both hands, holding it defensivly, and set his gaze determindly on the new comer. "Okay, now I'm done."

"Bought bloody time. For a moment, you sounded that Prissy Amnish noble man we rescued a month ago." Aegis frowned at the comment. "Anyway, we have some more pressing issues at hand. When we're finished here, I promise I'll make it worth your while when we get back to town." Gypsy flashed an enigmatic smile towards her companion.

"A pint, eh." Aegis grinned. "But, first things first. I don't like putting anyone on the ground until I know there name..."

[Ravager]

As Loviatar’s blackguard entered the Ravenous Basilisk tavern he was reminded of events that brought him to this point, into his role as a blackguard and his original pledging of service to the goddess.

* * *

When he had been young, Delgath’s home town, Findar in Aglarond, had been overrun by goblinoids – orcs, goblins and the odd bugbear. Force from the nearby cities and towns eventually cleared Findar of its invaders but too late for many in the town including many of his relatives.
An uncle became responsible for his upbringing and the pair travelled around the region, both outcasts from their destroyed homes.
Delgath came to resent the goblinoids who sacked his former home as well as the cities and rulers of Aglarond who he believed held back their forces as they cared little for any others outside the capital. The only reason the town had been cleared was the threat that the goblinoids posed in themselves and threats that they encouraged by their mere presence. Whether or not this was true, Delgath held on to this belief and his despisement of the local rulers grew.
The pair encountered other travellers on the road, some which accompanied them on their journeys, amongst these were a group which would later be revealed as followers of the Maiden of Pain. This was only discovered when Delgath stumbled upon one of them participating in their daily rituals which he later discovered enabled them to get divine assistance in the form of spells for the day. The group had hidden their identity in the local area due to the expected reaction of the local folk. In these priests Delgath found a kinship and support from others who held a hatred for the local rulers.
Soon after he left in the dark of night unbeknownst to his uncle, intent on joining the faith of Loviatar.

[Ravager]

In the Ravenous Basilisk tavern, he was about to have a fateful meeting with one who would help his cause more than he knew. A person allied against the local rulers and with important information to share for one such as him.
Delgath had been sought out by a messenger who had said someone was waiting for him in this tavern but the messenger had known nothing else when questioned. And so, Delgath entered prepared for an ambush.

If it had been a fight he wanted, there would be disappointment for now, a darkly clothed man beckoned to him for a dim corner.
The blackguard strode over carefully alert of prying eyes. “Who are you and what do you want?” Delgath inquired threateningly “No-one wastes my time”.
The mysterious man smirked and replied “Oh, if you are who I think you are, this will most definitely not prove a waste of time”.
“Oh?”
“First, I must be certain you are the person I sent for. You were born in 1352DR in the town of Findar, Aglarond, correct?”
Delgath raised an eyebrow, this man was obviously well-informed. “How did you get this information?!”
The stranger smiled “I’ll take that as an affirmative. Do not be concerned as to where I get my information from, for I will not tell you in any case. My sources are not so easily revealed.”
Delgath narrowed his eyes “What information do you have for me then?”

[Ravager]

The meeting in the Ravenous Basilisk continued…

“I know that House Extaminos of Hlondeth ‘hired’ you to eliminate their local opposition. I have information on your targets including some of their whereabouts”
Delgath demanded to hear the information.
“Some of this is hear-say and rumour whereas the rest is confirmed truth, it will be your decision as what to trust”
Delgath nodded, “Get on with it then. You have delayed me long enough!”
The stranger chuckled, “Patience is a virtue, blackguard of Loviatar. The first of your targets, Peridoc, will be either found in or near Trademeet, east of Athkatla. Ask around there for more information on her.”
“Hmm… what else do you know?”
“Oh much more, but I have yet to decide how much I will reveal to you”
“How do you know all this?”
“I already told you that I would not divulge my sources. Refrain from asking again if you wish more aid. And don’t think to ask my name either, for it must remain secret for me to continue my work.”
“Bah, keep your name secret if you must. Just do not cross me or you will regret it.”
“Do not threaten me. Such a thing could earn you a noose around your neck.”
Delgath held his emotion in check, despite his overbearing wish to throttle this man whether or not he held any information for his cause.
The stranger got up from his table and started towards the exit. “How will I contact you if I need more of your knowledge?”
“Oh, you won’t need to contact me again. In the unlikely event that I believe you require assistance I will set up a meeting. Before I leave, you should this”. He handed the blackguard a piece of black cloth.
“Are you intent on clothing me too!?”
“This is no clothing, my friend, it is a portable hole”
“I am not your friend.” Looking at the object just given to him “ And what does this… thing do?”
“It can be used to store equipment, create temporary holes in walls or just a convenient hiding place. No doubt you will find it useful on your travels.”
“Why are you giving me this?” asked a curious Delgath.
The stranger smiled, “Lets say I have a vested interest in seeing your success.”
And with that he exited the tavern, leaving a slightly bewildered and mostly infuriated Delgath.

[Ravager]

Delgath used the Orb he possessed to update the Loviatan clergy of his progress thus far.
“I have vaguely heard of such things as portable holes, they are indeed powerful artefacts and the one you now possess should definitely be held onto. I recommend you continue to Trademeet and look for this Peridoc. Be wary for traps and ambushes, though, it may be possible that this… stranger has deliberately led you astray.” The priest sagely advised.
“Hmmph. I wasn’t going to trust my life to him, anyway.”
“Good. Be cautious and don’t forget our goals.”
The communication was then terminated.

* * *

Delgath didn’t want to linger in Ormath any longer than necessary, so he headed to the local market, bought some poison vials which could be used to devastating effect on his enemies. In addition he bought a bay, a horse quite sufficient for riding and carrying equipment. Soon after he gladly left the miserable town behind him.

* * *

Delgath soon set many miles behind him and a tenday later he had just passed Riatavin after a short stop off to restock supplies. Between Riatavin and the next destination upon his route, a town by the name of Trailstone, he was ambushed by a small rag-tag group of bandits.

[Ravager]

The sound of voices near the impromptu camp awoke Delgath from a deep sleep and he reached over to his equipment while the voices seemed to get a little closer. Not many people would or should be around at this time of night thought Delgath as he used one of his poison vials on his sword and prepared to meet the threat. He heard several voices; close enough to make out the words:

“Get behind the trees”
“He’s still asleep, he’ll never know what hit him” and he heard a giggle.
“QUIET!” one hissed.
“Sorry, boss”

This confirmed Delgath’s suspicions; this was no group of travelling merchants, far more likely to be bandits. He could see one was holding a torch. Delgath shook his head. This is possibly the worst group of bandits I’ve ever seen. He rose quickly and stealthily, for a blackguard had some of the abilities of a thief and headed towards the one addressed as the ‘boss’.
A sharp strike to the back of this human (or humanoid- it was hard to make details out in the darkness) quickly took down the leader unawares. The rest of the group still hadn’t noticed until one tripped over the corpse of their dead leader.

“Hey, the boss… he’s dead. We’ve been spotted!”
“What? Where?!”

The group tried to get into a state of battle-readiness and one raised a bow, they would be harder to defeat now, but from what Delgath had seen so far, this group was not long for this world.

Delgath strode out of the shadows and proclaimed, “If you wish to live much longer, run and save your sorry hides”
“Fool. You’ll never beat us. We outnumber you 5 to 1!” One of the bandits replied.
“Oh, is that so? I make it 4 to 1.”
The bandit looked around with a smirk on his face, “Hention?”
“Do you refer to the one with the longbow? I already killed him.” Delgath chuckled.
“You lie!!” The bandits approached Delgath.
“Me? No.” Delgath slashed at the lead bandit who raised an ineffective parry.
Another bandit approached with a thrust of a spear and Delgath called upon the divine powers of his goddess and summoned a zombie to his aid. Soon the enemies in melee combat were cut down and one out of his reach ran away.

Delgath dismissed his summoned ally and sheathed his blade before walking over to the body of the bandit leader, keen to find some identifying mark and see if these were regular bandits of enemies of a more sinister purpose.

[Ravager]

The leader of the bandits turned out to be an orc of some type, though not of one which Delgath recognised. This orc was… black and was wearing a uniform of some kind. That pointed to the orc belonging to some kind of organisation such as the Zhentarim but the emblem was definitely not of their manufacture. This reminded him of the orc armies kept by the zulkir and tharcions in Thay, such as the blooded orc army kept by Szass Tam. Fortunately this was no blooded orc, although it would not have been killed so easily if it had been. Blooded orcs had a fierce reputation and were the toughest of orcs, someone was ever likely to come across and created by the wizards and sorcerers of Thay. Some had escaped their creators, but none were this far west…thankfully.

None of the other bandits wore the same uniform or the emblem, so it seemed likely that this orc might have deserted whatever army he had been a part of.

Not my problem Delgath thought. If there is an army of orcs intent on destroying half of Faerun out there, the chaos caused can only assist in our goals and distract the ‘goodly leaders’.

And so Delgath remounted his horse and continued on his journey, far too alert to get any more rest.

[Aegis]

"Actually, on second thought…" Aegis started moving to the side, hand holding the glaive tightly, its shaft steadied against his back, the other guiding Gypsy by the shoulder. "I think I'd rather hold off on the introductions for now."

The man regarded Aegis with a cold eye, and occasional glance going towards Amelie who was still hiding behind the older woman. He wrung his fingers along the hilts of his daggers, quietly sizing up the child's two protectors.

"See hon, this is why I don't always get along with people…" Aegis shot a glance towards Gypsy. "Sometimes, they just don't have any manners."

"Well, you know what they say." Gypsy stayed close to Aegis, and protectively in front of Amelie.

"And what would that be, dear?" As the three circled the room, the newcomer did the same, ensuring that he was facing them.

"If you have nothing nice to say…" With a quick movement, Gypsy's hand tore something from her belt and threw it to the floor. "Don't say anything at all!" As soon as the object hit the solid floor, a bright flash illuminated the room, followed by a thick, grey haze.

The trio made their move. Aegis dashed forward, slamming his shoulder against the newcomer, not enough to damage the man, but enough to knock him out of the way. He felt Gypsy and Amelie race past him and out of the throne room. Aegis took a quick step forward, and thrust his glaive into the haze, using the butt end to slow down the newcomer just a little bit more, just enough to know the two women had enough of a head start. He could catch up with them in Windhaven. For now, though, he had to make sure they were able to get their safely.

"In the future, I suggest having a general idea of what you're up against." He heard a shuffle from inside the haze. "Because, after all, fighting blind is never an ideal situation." He gave one last prod into the haze before turning on his feet, and running out of the throne room, and the