Episode 42 – Van Darrin
| The Assassins |
Azareth - Wizard 3rd Level LE (PC) Creighton - Fighter 3rd Level LE (PC) Craven - Fighter / Rogue 2nd / 2nd LE (CE emerging) (PC) Keldirk - Rogue 4th level NE (PC) |
| Locale | The River Snag Hostel, Del Mord, Prelacy of Almor |
| Date | 5th Planting, 582 CY (Common Year) |
| Time | Early Morning |
The sun crested the horizon and people stirred in the streets of Del Mord. Bakers, who had been up well before the dawn were putting the finishing touches on their labour, while farmers and traders queued outside the city gates awaiting entrance. Workers began to load and unload cargo on the wharves as tired members of the city-watch prepared for a welcome change of shift. The frantic stall owners in the common market worked quickly and efficiently, displaying their wares in such a way as to best catch the eye of the passer-by.
Despite this activity the assassins were all fast asleep, disinterested in the continuance of the daily routine of the common man. All asleep, that is, except one.
Azareth loved this time of the day. He savoured the feeling of new beginnings, the new opportunities for knowledge that was the promise of each new day. The young mage often spent this time of day pouring over his spellbook but, since he had not practiced his art in a few days, he only needed to spend a fraction of the time to commit his spells to memory. As soon as his study was complete he dressed into his spare set of fine clothes and left the tavern for a morning stroll. He wanted to get away from his companions, away from the constant bickering and complaints to a place where he could think. And Azareth knew of no better place to think than in the beautiful, peaceful gardens of the High Quarter.
Azareth strolled to the High Quarter and ambled through the well-manicured gardens until he found a seat in a quaint little gazebo overlooking a veritable carpet of flowers. He closed his eyes and rested for about an hour before his meandering contemplation turned to that of his companions and his mission here in Del Mord. Azareth recalled the day when the Marque de'Ahb, most senior of all assassins, charged him with the leadership of the group. With a furrowed brow Azareth realised that he was in danger of failing both The Family and the Marque de'Ahb. Not only had he been unable to stamp his authority on Craven, Keldirk and Creighton but he was in serious danger of losing control of the group altogether. And the crux of the problem - the greatest obstacle to his success - was Keldirk.
Keldirk was an angry, disturbed young man who was difficult to get along with at the best of times. Azareth had felt the sting of the Keldirk's sharp tongue first-hand on numerous occasions. But the mage theorised that any feelings Keldirk had for him were born of a perceived incompetence; Keldirk didn't understand magic and the potential it offered. To him, respect could only be garnered through physical prowess or an absolute position of power. Potential meant nothing. And for those reasons Azareth discounted Keldirk's apparent hatred as a fleeting, temporary thing. In time the hot-headed young assassin would come to respect Azareth, even rely on his powers. Keldirk's scorn for Azareth was not the problem. Of more concern, Azareth realised, was Keldirk's growing disdain for Craven.
Keldirk's attitude toward Craven was much more difficult to comprehend. Azareth had decided it was useless to try and talk to Keldirk about it, Keldirk probably had no answers and any information would be tainted by his abrasive manner. No, this was a problem that required a keen, insightful mind and careful observation skills, both of which Azareth had in abundance. If he was truly interested in becoming a good leader then this was just the sort of problem he needed to be able to solve.
When Keldirk believed that Craven was dead he seemed happy, almost relieved, as if a problem had just been solved. But once he learned that Craven survived he became strangely subdued. It seemed to Azareth as though Keldirk felt Craven was a danger to The Family, as if he had his own insidious agenda. And, thinking about it, Azareth had to agree. Craven was definitely becoming an extremely difficult person to predict. At times he was calm and in control but then, almost without warning, the duellist could fly into a terrible rage. Azareth had sensed a struggle inside Craven, as if a strange, savage nature lurked just below the surface. There was obviously something wrong with Craven and perhaps Keldirk had simply noticed it first.
Azareth did not want to place himself in a position where he or Creighton needed to take sides. Once that happened, he knew that he had failed in his role as leader of the group. And Azareth had no intention of failing. As he began the leisurely walk back the River Snag Hostel Azareth swore to keep a close watch on Craven. He was confident that once he had more information then a solution would become apparent. And, perhaps, solving Craven's dilemma would be all it would take to bring Keldirk on side.
The four assassins gathered in their room just before midday to discuss the Van Darrin assassination. Creighton was chewing on a bread roll that he had purchased from a street vendor as he waited for the others to get ready.
| Creighton | (between mouthfuls) Why do we have to go to the High Quarter? I hate getting dressed up like a dandy. |
| Azareth | Because that is where Christian Van Darrin lives and it is the best place to garner information about him. |
| Creighton | (chews for a moment, thinking fast) Hey, Az? |
| Azareth | Yes? |
| Creighton | I was thinking that I should go with Craven to the fencing tournament instead of going to the High Quarter with you guys. He might need help. |
| Azareth | Absolutely not. |
| Craven | (shakes his head and places a hand on Creighton's shoulder) Azareth's right, I won't need any help. I am known at the fencing school and I will be able to move about with relative freedom. If you come with me then people will want to know who you are. No, it'll be easier if I go alone. Besides, I plan to meet the others in the High Quarter as soon as I'm done at the fencing school. (chuckles) Fix up your lace ruffles, they are a trifle off-centre. |
| Keldirk | (to Craven) You're wasting your time. You'll never be able to kill Van Darrin in the fencing competition. Hells, the odds are you won't even be matched up against him. Remember this is supposed to look like an accident; you hacking him to bits in front of an audience is not what I would call subtle. |
| Craven | (sneers) I don't plan to kill him at the fencing school, you idiot. That was never my intention. But if I do line up against him then I'll make sure that I hurt him; test his metal, so-to-speak. And if I don't get to duel him at least I will get to see his skills and if this assassination leads to another direct combat, I would prefer to know who I'll be up against. |
| Azareth | I'm with Craven. The more we know about Van Darrin the easier this will be. We should try and learn as much about our target as we can. |
| Keldirk | Don't tell me how to do my job, mage. |
| Creighton | (wipes a mountain of bread-crumbs off his embroidered pants) Alright, let's get this High Quarter thing over with. |
| Craven | (chuckles) Why are you so against the High Quarter, Creighton? Are you afraid a bit of cleanliness will find its way into your routine? |
| Creighton | (shakes his head) Nup. It's just that the High Quarter is full of pompous, stuck-up bastards that have a tendency to rub me up the wrong way. And if I spend too long in their company they're liable to make me angry and if that happens - well - chances are I'll get violent. |
| Azareth | (looks at Creighton) I certainly hope you are joking? |
| Creighton | (thinks) Nup. |
| Azareth | (swallows hard) Then we will have to ensure that you keep your anger in check. I do not want to attract any attention. The last thing I want you to do is cause bodily harm to members of High Society. Understand? |
| Creighton | (sulks) Seriously, Az, you take all the fun out of life. |
| Keldirk | (snorts) It's not Creighton's anger we need to worry about. (flashes Craven a side-long glance) |
| Azareth | (watches Craven closely) |
| Craven | (eyes narrow angrily before turning his back on Keldirk) I'm going. (opens the door) I'll meet you at the gates of the High Quarter Market in two hours. |
Craven left the others to their own devices and proceeded to the academic quarter of Del Mord. The fencing school was accepting entrants into the annual fencing competition and Craven was keen to enter. It had been a long time since he matched his skills against a trained opponent and the fencing competition was the perfect opportunity for him to gauge his abilities.
It was a pleasant day and, as he walked, Craven reminisced over the events of the past few days. His mind, these days, was in constant turmoil. He fervently hoped that the assassination of Van Darrin would give him focus and help restore his rapidly dwindling self-control. All through his childhood Craven prided himself on his ability to remain calm in a crisis. But lately, and with alarming frequency, something would take hold and drive him over the edge. Those moments of rage were a blur. The young assassin was terrified that one day he would lose all control and find it impossible to return to his normal self.
Craven was no fool. He knew that something abnormal was happening to him but, for whatever reason, he was unwilling or unable to seek help. He knew that his diet of raw meat was unhealthy, his rapid healing unnatural and his night vision unnerving. He had noticed other things, too. Impossibly he seemed more attuned to creatures of the night, predators and prey alike. Often he would wake in a sweat, his heart beating fast and when he finally managed to close his eyes again would he see flashes of tooth and claw. Those nights were the hardest of all and lately Craven found it more and more difficult to sleep through the hours of darkness. And somewhere in the pits of his very being, he felt a yearning. A calling. Someone, somewhere, was summoning him.
And it was becoming harder and harder to resist that call.
The High Quarter always gave the impression of being a city unto itself, the surrounding walls and the well manicured flora of the Garden Quarter served as an effective screen from the rest of Del Mord. There were taverns, shops and even a market where residents of the High Quarter could walk outside without fear of encountering a common worker or those of lesser standing. The streets were clean and safe, even the city guards wore different uniforms, further accentuating the obvious gap in the society.
Creighton hated it. He understood that society needed structure, but he firmly believed that strength should be the measure of a man. He despised the fat, unhealthy merchants who lorded over stronger, more able-bodied men. A ruler should inspire a sense of awe and provide discipline through fear. He failed to understand how strong capable men, like himself, could demean themselves in the service of a weak man who, through some quirk of fate, had acquired wealth or social standing. As the burly warrior walked among the richly clothed merchants and courtiers it was all he could do to keep from lashing out in disgust.
Creighton, Keldirk and Azareth walked leisurely along The Processional. They encountered little traffic as they made their way to the High Market stopping occasionally while Azareth peered into one shop or another. Once in the market they spent a little time perusing the over-priced wares as they waited for Craven to join them.
During this time, Azareth spied a necklace in a shop window. It was of unusual design and instantly caught Azareth's eye. Long strips of metal wove together to form an intricate pattern and as soon as the mage saw it he knew he had to get a better look. The pendant reminded him of the trinkets made by Destra, a jeweler he knew when he lived in Westwall.
Azareth told the others to wait then entered the shop. Once inside he noticed that the shopkeeper, an elderly woman, was busy serving another customer. Azareth wandered around the shop and waited. Before long, the old lady finished her business and approached the mage, a well-practiced smile on her lips.
| serving lady | May I help you? |
| Azareth | (snorts) The necklace in your window. May I take a closer look? |
| serving lady | (looks Azareth over, appraisingly) And do you wish to purchase the item? |
| Azareth | Perhaps, but not until I have examined the workmanship. |
| serving lady | (pauses) I see. Please wait here a moment while I get it for you. |
The lady returned briefly, the pendant held in her hand. She passed it to Azareth who began to examine it closely.
| serving lady | It's a beautiful piece. Made by a Baklunish craftsman with whom I am acquainted. You'll agree it is a spectacular piece of workmanship. |
| Azareth | I've seen work like this before. There was an artisan in the Hold of the Sea Princes who crafted similar pieces. |
| serving lady | Yes, it's a traditional Baklunish motif, two, sometimes three metal strips are folded and creased then woven in an intricate pattern. The results as you can see are quite lovely. Each pendant has its own meaning, this one will afford the wearer good health. |
| Azareth | I see. Pray tell, what is the asking price? |
| serving lady | One hundred and twenty seven golden orbs. |
| Azareth | Hmm. Unfortunately it beyond my means. (hands the pendant back to the woman) |
| serving lady | A shame. (smiles) Feel free to browse. |
As Azareth walked around the shop something on a painting against the rear wall caught his eye. The mage leaned forward and read the cursive script of the artist's signature.
| serving lady | (approaches Azareth) A Van Darrin. Do you like it? |
| Azareth | (looks at the painting, feigning interest) Yes, err, his use of colours is most emotive. It is a Christian Van Darrin, is it not? |
| serving lady | (chuckles) I've not heard of another Van Darrin, have you? |
| Azareth | Um, no. |
| serving lady | So you like his work, too? |
| Azareth | Yes. I think it is, um, very bold. He captures the essence of the moment brilliantly. |
| serving lady | Then be sure to visit the Del Mord gallery in a few days. The gallery will be showcasing his work. It will be his final exhibition before he leaves town. |
| Azareth | I see. |
| serving lady | (reaches behind the counter and hands Azareth a sheet of parchment) If you appreciate Van Darrin's work then this gazette may be of some use. |
| Azareth | (takes the parchment and begins to read) The Del Mord Social Gazette? |
| serving lady | You have not heard of it? |
| Azareth | Um, no, unfortunately not. You see I am new in town. |
| serving lady | It's published by Wilma Butterrose. She produces one gazette every month to keep people appraised of social events and gatherings. As you can see, the social events are centred very much on Mister Van Darrin's departure. If you are lucky you may get the opportunity to meet him at one of the listed functions. He is quite the conversationalist. |
| Azareth | Thankyou, you have been more helpful than you know. (smiles and leaves the shop) |
| Keldirk | (waiting outside) This isn't a shopping trip, mage. If you're done browsing let's get to work. |
| Creighton | Where do we start? |
| Azareth | (waves the gazette in the air) Page one I would suggest. |
| Creighton | What is it? |
| Azareth | (hands Creighton the document) It's called the "Del Mord Social Gazette". |
| Keldirk | And? |
| Azareth | And it lists all of Van Darrin's public appearances until he leaves for South Almor in two weeks. |
| Creighton | (pushes the paper into Keldirk's chest) He's right you know. |
| Keldirk | (scans the document then shoves it into his jerkin) |
| Creighton | Can we go now? |
| Azareth | What about Craven? |
| Keldirk | You wait for him. Creighton and I will meet you back at the hostel. |
The assassins spent the next week following their target around scheduling their activities on the contents of the Del Mord Social Gazette.
Craven watched Van Darrin fence in the tournament, and was impressed at the man's ability. Craven had also entered the tournament but was eliminated in the fourth round on a technicality. For his part, Van Darrin progressed to the semi-finals and looked certain for a berth in the grand final for a second year but a brilliant feint and subsequent lunge by his opponent left the elder swordsman off balance. He, like Craven, was eliminated. Craven noticed that Van Darrin seemed to favour his right side in combat and noted this fact for future reference.
Keldirk attended Van Darrin's appearance at the King's Gambit; an all-day team sporting event played each Starday in the Garden Quarter. Keldirk toyed with the idea of assassinating him then and there but dismissed the thought when he noticed the dozen or so priests in attendance.
Azareth attended the art exhibition at the Del Mord Gallery. There was an auction of some of Van Darrin's work but the man himself made only a brief appearance.
In all cases, the wealthy artist was constantly in the public eye and none of the assassins could see any opportunity for an "accident". They toyed with the idea of striking Van Darrin at home but the conditions of the contract practically made such an attempt impossible. With growing concern the days rolled by and, despite Van Darrin's numerous public appearances, the assassins were no closer to a solution.
The next event on Christian Van Darrin's social calender was his attendance at the Del Mord Concert Hall for the premiere of a new opera, "The Golden Sparrow". Craven and Keldirk purchased two tickets. It was decided that Creighton not attend as his visage and temperament might cause distress among the other patrons. Azareth, at the last minute, also decided not to attend. He figured that the opera would be a good chance for Craven and Keldirk to work together but, at Craven's insistence, he remained in a tavern across the street should his services be required.
The night of the opera soon arrived and Craven, Keldirk and Azareth made their way to the High Quarter and to the Concert Hall. Azareth left his companions at the steps before finding a quiet booth in a street cafe. Keldirk and Craven took their seats and waited patiently. Before the performance began an opera official introduced Christian and Maryanne Van Darrin as the guests of honour. The couple rose and bowed to the applause of the other patrons. After they had taken their seats the show began.
It was a colourful story, full of singing and melodrama. Neither Craven nor Keldirk really enjoyed the performance and by interval Keldirk was sure his ears were bleeding. The two assassins spent much of the night watching Van Darrin and after the show, Keldirk managed to get in a position to overhear a conversation between Van Darrin and a man called Proctor.
| Proctor | Well, old friend, how are you feeling? |
| Van Darrin | A bit tired. These social gatherings are nice, and all, but what I really want is a good night's sleep. |
| Proctor | (chuckles) How is your schedule for the next few days? |
| Van Darrin | Full. I have the removalists coming in for a pre-inspection tomorrow morning, the opening of an art exhibition in my honour at the museum at lunch and a wedding and reception that afternoon. Honestly, Proctor, I don't know if I'll last out the week. |
| Proctor | What you need is a spot of fishing. |
| Van Darrin | (nods) I wish I could. |
| Proctor | So, what's stopping you? |
| Van Darrin | (pauses) Well, nothing I suppose. (rubs his chin thoughtfully) I have all of next Starday morning and afternoon free so perhaps we could get together then and go up river to the usual spot? |
| Proctor | Wonderful idea. I'll arrange the boat. We'll head off at, say, dawn? |
| Van Darrin | Sounds great, I'll meet you at the docks. |
| Proctor | Splendid. (looks around) Anyway, I'll leave you to the rest of your socialising. See you on Starday. |
| Van Darrin | (smiles) I look forward to it. |
Keldirk and Craven left the concert hall, met Azareth and together they returned to the River Snag Hostel. Creighton was already in bed but awoke when they arrived. Keldirk told the others what he had overheard and they sat down to discuss their options.
| Keldirk | The fishing trip sounds like the perfect opportunity for our hit. He will be out of town and relatively alone. |
| Craven | Yes but we will have to have a boat ourselves. |
| Azareth | That should pose no problem, I will organise the hire of a boat tomorrow. I have experience piloting small craft and we should have little trouble following them. |
| Craven | (fidgeting) I don't much like boats. (coughs) In fact I loathe them. |
| Keldirk | (snorts) Get over it. This is an opportunity too good to waste. |
| Craven | (unimpressed) |
| Azareth | We were instructed to make it look like an accident. Killing a man while he fishes is hardly the archetypical accident. |
| Creighton | I've got an idea. |
| Keldirk | (under his breath) That's a first. |
| Creighton | I'll visit some taverns today and make mention of some bandits out in the forest. With a bit of luck, word will spread and when a fishing party turns up dead people won't question it too much. |
| Azareth | Hmm. (rubs his chin thoughtfully) That is an excellent idea. Their deaths will lend credence to your rumour and if things go to plan the militia will focus their efforts on tracking down the bandits rather than investigating the murder. |
| Keldirk | I don't like it. Creighton's got all the subtlety of an angry hornet and if he's too obvious in his story telling, people may inadvertently link him to the bandits. It's a good idea but I just don't think Creighton can pull it off. |
| Creighton | What are you saying? |
| Keldirk | I'm saying you are a stupid oaf. |
| Creighton | (shrugs) At least you're honest. Listen, I may look stupid but I assure you that I'm not. I spend a lot of time in the taverns and I know the right people to tell. I'll pass the story off as if it's something I heard and I'll make myself appear so drunk. Trust me, no one will suspect a thing. |
| Keldirk | I'm not convinced. |
| Azareth | Well I am. (to Keldirk) If we can't trust each other, then who can we trust? |
| Keldirk | (flashes a glance at Craven) Good question. (smiles unpleasantly) |
| Craven | Go ahead, Creighton. It's a good idea. Just be sure that you mention the story matter-of-factly; don't make a big deal of it. |
| Creighton | (winks) Trust me. |
Early Starday morning the four assassins headed to the Del Mord docks. Azareth, Creighton and Craven began to load the ramshackle rowboat Azareth had hired while Keldirk kept watch for Christian Van Darrin. The thick fog was a mixed blessing; on one hand it provided ample cover for the young assassin but on the other it made it difficult for him to see. In fact Keldirk heard Van Darrin's approach long before he saw him. Hiding in an alley by a nearby warehouse Keldirk watched as Christian Van Darrin, Proctor and three others piled their gear into a sizable fishing boat. Keldirk quietly crept forward and listened intently to their conversation.
| Van Darrin | So, Proctor, permit me to introduce you to my resident Yerqyll (indicates a bespectacled, robed man at his side) and you've already met Gunther my bodyguard. |
| Proctor | (extends his hand to Yerqyll) Nice to meet you. (shakes hands before nodding to the other man) Good to see you again, Gunther. |
| Gunther | Very good, sir. |
| Van Darrin | (indicates a young boy at Proctor's side) Who is the lad? |
| Proctor | My nephew, Dickson. (ruffles the lad's hair) This will be his first fishing trip. |
| Van Darrin | You're in for one helluva day, Dickson. |
| Dickson | Fankyou, sir. |
Before long, the boat was ready. Proctor lit a lantern and hung it from the prow of the low slung fishing boat. He then took a long pole and began to move the craft away from the dock. Keldirk broke from his position and sprinted to the others. They were already waiting aboard the craft and it was with some amusement that Keldirk noted Craven's discomfort.
| Keldirk | (jumps into the boat, rocking it violently) They're underway. |
| Craven | (blanches) |
| Azareth | (nods and peers into the mist) Does that lantern mark their boat. |
| Keldirk | Yeah. |
| Azareth | Okay. You man the till and I'll take the pole. Craven? |
| Craven | What? |
| Azareth | You keep watching their lantern, it will give you something to think about other than being on this boat. The mist is to our advantage but I'm sure it won't last long once the sun rises. Creighton, once we clear the docks you can start rowing. |
| Creighton | (sighs) Great. |
Azareth easily manoeuvred the boat out into the river and Creighton began his labour. They kept pace with Van Darrin's boat easily careful not to get too close. Van Darrin's lantern was an easy beacon to follow even in the mist but, as predicted, the sun soon burned away the morning fog and the assassins were forced to hang back lest they be seen. Azareth instructed Creighton to slow his pace and ordered Keldirk to turn the boat toward the shore. There was nowhere to hide in the middle of the river and Azareth hoped that they could use the overhanging trees as some slight cover to mask their pursuit.
They followed Christian Van Darrin's boat for almost four miles upstream, through several twists and turns of the river until they navigated into a minor tributary. By this time Craven was ill. The gentle rocking of the boat upset his stomach and only served to heighten his irrational fear of water. Azareth continued to set Craven minor tasks in an attempt to keep him occupied, but they only served to irritate the young swordsman. In the end Azareth told Craven to close his eyes and count backwards from a thousand - a task Craven took to with gusto.
It was mid morning when Christian and his party reached their fishing spot. Van Darrin and his friends pulled their boat onto the shore of a picturesque lagoon and began to set up camp. The young boy was sent into the forest to gather firewood while the adults unloaded the boat, set up their lines and baited their hooks.
Half a mile or so behind them the assassins also stopped. The water was only waist deep here and Craven did not wait for the others to secure the boat before climbing out and wading to the river's edge. Azareth directed Creighton to beach their boat and then they set about planning their attack.
| Azareth | How are we going to do this? |
| Creighton | Walk into the camp and kill them. It doesn't need to be anything more complex than that. |
| Keldirk | (under his breath) How professional. |
| Craven | Leave Van Darrin to me. |
| Keldirk | Why? |
| Craven | He is a swordsman of some skill and I want him. |
| Keldirk | I won't let you screw this up in your hunt for glory. |
| Craven | If he proves too much for me then feel free to step in. But, until that time, do not get in my way. |
| Keldirk | (sneers) Fine. I'll wait for him to kill you and then we'll finish him off. |
| Craven | Good. |
| Azareth | The issue still remains, how are we going to do this? |
| Keldirk | Craven and I will go first and try to get as close as we can to the campsite. You two follow ten minutes later. |
| Azareth | Okay. Let's give each other at least half an hour to get into position. I'll hit Van Darrin's resident with a spell and that will be your signal to attack. (looks to Creighton) You go after the body guard and make sure no-one closes on me. Keldirk, you target his friend, Proctor. Craven can concentrate on Van Darrin. Once the resident is eliminated from the equation I'll help out where needed. |
| Craven | What about the child? |
| Keldirk | I'll take care of the boy. (stands) Remember to wear your masks; if someone gets away we don't want our descriptions bandied about in town. |
The four assassins carefully and quietly negotiated a path through the trees to the camp. The soft groundcover by the river muffled much of the noise and the experienced assassins had little trouble closing on the area in relative silence. Occasionally one or the other would step on an errant twig but the normal sounds of the forest adequately compensated for such mistakes. Before long the four killers were in position.
Keldirk and Craven skirted the area and approached the campsite from the west. Keldirk squatted behind a rotten log and drew his knives in preparation for the attack. Craven was fifteen feet further around, hidden behind a tree, his trusty rapier held firmly in his hand. Creighton and Azareth approached the campsite directly and took up a position some twenty feet from where the resident sat reading. Creighton scanned the area and spied the bodyguard at the rear of the camp idly chopping at a log with a hand axe.
Azareth peered across the clearing and into the trees beyond and tried, unsuccessfully, to locate Keldirk or Craven. He waited for several minutes and trusted that his two companions had made it into position. He queried Creighton's readiness with a glance and, after receiving a nod, he stepped out from behind the tree.
| Azareth | Comt Airakan Khea Jair Soth Jalaran (points at the resident and shoots two bolts of magical energy from his fingertips that fly unerringly into the robed man's back) |
| Keldirk | (having seen the signal, rises from his haunches and throws two knives at Proctor - one knife buries itself in Proctor's left shoulder, the second flies into the river with a plop. Draws his short sword and closes in on his surprised opponent) |
| Creighton | Aarrggh! (bursts from the trees and charges at the bodyguard, his longsword held before him) |
| Craven | (steps into the campsite and points his rapier at Christian Van Darrin) Defend yourself. |
The bodyguard, Gunther, reacted first. He cocked his mighty arm and launched his hand axe at Craven; the deadly missile flew high and right before disappearing into the trees. With a colorful curse, he ripped his sword out of its scabbard and rushed to the aid of his master Christian Van Darrin. Creighton immediately changed his course, coming to a halt between the bodyguard and Christian.
| Creighton | (smiles unpleasantly) You have to get passed me first, big guy. (beckons Gunther forward with a wave of his sword) |
| Gunther | (comes to a halt and studies Creighton, his eyes narrow slightly before he steps forward to engage) What ever you say. |
Proctor was shocked, terrified and was experiencing incredible pain. The assassin's knife in his shoulder hurt terribly and he was barely able to move his left arm. He scanned the area for an avenue of escape but knew that if he fled his stunned nephew might not survive. He had to divert this killer's attention and give young Dickson a chance to get away. Almost resignedly he drew his sword and waited for the knife thrower to approach.
Inwardly Keldirk smiled. It was obvious that his opponent was no warrior and he could see that the wound he had caused had made the man's left arm all but useless. The panic in the frightened man's eyes made his victory more certain.
| Proctor | (fearfully) What do you want? Money. food. take it, just please don't kill us. |
| Keldirk | (calmly) If I wanted your treasures I could just as easily take them once you're dead. (steps forward and thrusts, the blade coming within inches of Proctor's stomach) Nothing personal, you understand. |
| Proctor | (having barely parried Keldirk's strike, feints to the left and then breaks right to clear a path to the trees) Dickson, run! |
| Keldirk | (laughs out loud) Not so fast, worm. (moves to intercept) |
The resident-mage lurched forward when Azareth's magic missile's struck home. The pain was intense but he counted only two hits and knew that he had a skill advantage over his opponent. It was always difficult to keep calm in a combat situation, but calm was necessary to provide both focus and reason to action. Christian Van Darrin had taught him that. His sponsor was a fine swordsman and he had taken the time out to instruct Yerqyll on some basic combat principles. Now, as Yerkyll faced an unkown mage across the small campsite, he hoped that he had learned his lessons well.
| Yerqyll | walen erniv b'loksha'ar |
| Azareth | (hurries to complete his second spell) Comt Airakan Khea Jair Soth Jalaran (sends two more bolts toward the resident) |
| Yerqyll | (instinctively flinches as the magical missiles fly toward him, but smiles slyly as the green bolts of energy are absorbed by his magical shield) You started it - now I'll finish it! (retrieves some bat guano and pinch of sulphur from his pouch-belt and begins to cast) |
After completing his incantation, Yerqyll pointed toward Azareth and released the spell. A tiny bead of light flew from his index finger to where Azareth stood and exploded in a massive, searing ball of flame. Once the flare of the fireball had subsided, Azareth was nowhere to be seen. The surrounding forest was a charred mass of burning vegetation and smoldering wood. With a satisfied smile, Yerqyll turned and focussed his attention on aiding his benefactor Christian Van Darrin.
Craven waited for Van Darrin to draw his rapier before he stepped into combat. He could tell at a glance that Van Darrin was fully prepared for the duel. Craven had seen the nobleman fight at the fencing school but, today, there was something different. Van Darrin's eyes were set in a cold, fierce stare, his mouth drawn in a tight line. There was a confident look in the way Van Darrin limbered up and Craven knew a moment's fear.
The two swordsmen circled each other warily. A heartbeat passed and they closed with a violent clash of steel. Craven knew that the nobleman liked to feel out his opponent, to gain some measure of what he was up against. Van Darrin seemed just as cautious now so Craven made a small advance, the point of his blade held ridiculously low. The move was a calculated one; Craven knew he had left himself wide open but he figured that the elder swordsman would ignore such an obvious invitation. And when he did Craven would dart to his left and strike.
Instead Van Darrin exploded. He lunged forward and sliced open Craven's right forearm then, on his follow-through, leapt forward again and slashed at Craven's head. Craven just managed to react to the move in time; he rocked back with a deft parry and managed to deflect the thrust aimed at his head at the last possible instant. In desperation he delivered a riposte at Van Darrin's chest and hopped backward to regain balance and guard.
| Craven | (breathing heavy) My congratulations to you, sir. (salutes with his sword) I underestimated your aggressiveness. I shall not make the same mistake again. (begins to circle then engages in a series of surgical thrusts and counterstrikes) |
| Van Darrin | (defends Craven with clinical accuracy, forcing the young assassin's blade wider and wider) |
| Craven | (steps back, eyeing his opponent) This ground is not well suited for swordplay. |
| Van Darrin | (calmly) You came here to kill me, any ground is suitable for that. |
They closed again. Craven made a hard cut to Van Darrin's left flank; he hoped to force the nobleman's arm wide and give him the opportunity to thrust into Van Darrin's chest. It was the move that had lost Van Darrin his bout in the tournament and Craven had practiced it, hoping it would work again.
Not this time.
Van Darrin picked up the initial thrust, but instead of parrying wide as he did in the tournament he pressed in, holding contact and closing the distance. The nobleman smashed his fist into Craven's face before breaking off with a deft cut at Craven's leg. Craven blinked tears out of his eyes even as he rolled his wrist to protect his right leg. He escaped Van Darrin's onslaught by jumping back, his rapier flicking madly in the sunlight. Craven's thigh was cut, his nose broken and his ego had taken a severe pounding but, apart from those few things, he was physically sound. He tore his mask off his face, spat out a mouthful of blood then closed again.
| Van Darrin | (eyes narrow) I recognize you, boy. You've been watching me fight. (circles warily) Who are you? Why do you want to kill me, I've done nothing wrong. |
| Craven | I know. (continues to circle and smiles) Frustrating isn't it. |
Meanwhile Creighton and the bodyguard, Gunther, exchanged blows. They fought with a savagery and power that rivaled the skill and finesse of Craven's duel with Van Darrin. Each clash of steel on steel would have crushed a smaller man but the two warriors were evenly matched, both in physical might and skill.
| Creighton | (panting) It's been a while since I faced someone with such strength. I'm quite enjoying myself. |
| Gunther | (aims a cut to Creighton's chest but his sword is blocked) It'll be the last time you face anyone at all. (reverses his swing and slides his blade across Creighton's body, slicing through leather armour and opening a long cut in Creighton's stomach) |
| Creighton | Urgh! (steps back out of the body guard's range) |
| Gunther | Ouch. (smiles) That's gotta hurt. |
Creighton winced, hefted his sword and shrugged off the pain. He began with a series of savage cuts designed to force his opponent into a pattern of defense and retreat then drove forward with the point of his longsword. His blade pierced the bodyguard's armour just above the hip and slid into his body. Gunther trapped Creighton's sword and kept him from twisting the blade. He lurched back and the sword slid free, blood flowing freely from the injury.
| Creighton | I bet that hurts more. |
| Gunther | (clutches his side with one hand pressed on the wound) I'll see you rot in hell. |
| Creighton | We'll see. (steps forward, his sword crashing into Gunther's own blade as they resumed combat) We shall see. |
Proctor knew he was going to die, but his main concern was for his nephew, Dickson. The young lad refused to escape into the forest and Proctor was becoming desperate. Dickson, for his part, was doing everything he could to help his uncle. He picked up sticks and stones from the ground and threw them at the evil man. He hefted another such missile and threw it with all his might; striking Keldirk squarely between the shoulder blades and making him lose balance. Proctor rushed in and slashed with his sword before Keldirk could recover and was rewarded with a cut to the assassin's forearm.
| Keldirk | (snarls and risks a quick glance over his shoulder) I'm gonna gut you kid. First I'm going to kill your uncle and then I'm going to roast you slowly over that fire. |
| Proctor | (backs away from Keldirk) Run Dickson! Get away while you can. |
| Keldirk | (smiles) No. Don't run, Dickson, stay right where you are and keep annoying me. I'm much more creative when I'm angry. |
| Dickson | (bends to retrieve another stone) You don't scare me. (throws the rock but misses) |
| Keldirk | I like you kid, you've got balls. (grins evilly) And after I catch you I'll feed them to you. |
| Proctor | Get out of here, Dickson! |
| Dickson | (nervously looks around) I'm not going to leave you uncle. Never. |
| Proctor | (moves closer to the fire, drawing Keldirk forward) I mean it Dickson - get away from here. Now! |
| Dickson | (tears rolling down his cheeks, runs toward the trees) |
Keldirk saw the move and stepped forward to block Dickson's escape. But as soon as he moved toward the child, Proctor dropped his sword, bent down by the fire and scooped up some hot coals. Ignoring the searing pain he threw the handful of coals at Keldirk. The burning cloud of coals and ash struck Keldirk squarely in the face. The choking dust made the young assassin cough and splutter. The ash stung his eyes and he backed away from Proctor, waving his sword in a defensive pattern. Keldirk blinked furiously hoping tears would wash his eyes clean.
| Proctor | (picks up his sword in his ruined hands) Now Dickson! Run! (steps toward Keldirk, wary of the assassin's crazily whirling blade) |
The boy looked once at his uncle and then sprinted into the trees.
| Keldirk | (hears Proctor approach) That was foolish. Very foolish, indeed. |
| Proctor | (looks into the trees, debating whether to flee himself) Why? My plan worked, didn't it? (unsuccessfully attempts to disarm Keldirk) |
| Keldirk | (tightens his grip on his sword) Yes it worked but you have pissed me off. By the time I'm finished with you you'll be begging for death. Pain is going to be your sole sensation. (blinks rapidly and is rewarded by a vision of blurry shapes and colour) |
| Proctor | (gulps, fear gripping his heart) |
| Keldirk | Make peace with whatever god you hold sacred and pray that he hears your cries for mercy. |
Azareth only just managed to jump clear when the fireball exploded. His robes and backpack were ruined by the blast, his hair singed and the skin on his back was badly burned. It took him a few moments to recover but it was clear that, for now at least, the resident considered him dead. Azareth crawled for cover and stood up once more sheltered, by the trees. The resident's shield spell would still be in effect and Azareth had to come up with another way to overcome his opponent.
Quickly he took stock of the situation, Creighton was in fierce combat with the bodyguard, both of them sported minor wounds but neither showed any sign of backing down. Keldirk had allowed the boy to escape but seemed to have the better of Van Darrin's friend. Craven and Van Darrin were engaged in a swirling melee of thrusts and parries, their blades little more than a blur of steel. Neither swordsman seemed to have the upper hand but the resident was about to change all that. If Azareth didn't act soon, Craven would be in a great deal of trouble.
Gunther saw the boy run into the trees and smiled; that was one less he had to protect. The blood from the wound in his side was flowing freely and the warrior was beginning to feel light-headed. He knew that he wouldn't be able to keep this up for much longer. He knew it was time to risk it all.
With a determined look, Gunther slowed his attacks and waited for Creighton to commit. Before long Creighton launched into what he hoped would be a killing blow, a sideways swing designed to break through Gunther's weakening defence and cleave flesh and bone.
It was exactly what Gunther was waiting for.
Gunther stepped aside and allowed Creighton's sword to pass harmlessly by before turning on his heel and spinning low. His sword swept around in a deadly arc and flew toward Creighton's ankles.
Creighton realised his error at the last instant and leapt into the air to avoid the vicious blow. Gunther's blade barely flicked Creighton's heel but it was enough to cause the young assassin to lose his balance and crash unceremoniously into the dirt. Creighton landed heavily, the air exploded from his lungs and he lost his grip on his sword. Instinctively he rolled to his side to avoid the blow he knew would follow. Luckily he managed to get clear of Gunther's attack but in so doing he had rolled further away from his sword. Despite his predicament Creighton didn't panic; he still had an ace up his sleeve.
Creighton interlocked his thumbs and spread the fingers of his hands out toward Gunther even as the bodyguard was preparing to deliver the killing blow. Concentrating for only an instant he mouthed the magical words of power and flames burst from his hands and flew directly into the smug face of the bodyguard. Gunther screamed and tried to protect himself from the flames but his clothes and hair had caught fire and he was forced to run and jump headlong into the cold river.
Creighton rose to his feet and recovered his sword. With steely resolve the hulking warrior followed his prey into the water. It was time to end this once and for all.
At six foot five, Van Darrin had the reach on Craven, but Craven's superior strength more than compensated for his lack of stature. Craven had no intention of letting Van Darrin keep the fight at a distance and Van Darrin didn't want to give Craven a chance to close and use a left hook. This was a battle of life and death and both duellists knew that tournament rules didn't apply.
It was a game of distance now. They traded simple attacks with no ripostes in an effort to better gauge each other's strengths and weaknesses. Van Darrin could tell that his technical ability was superior to his opponent but Craven was faster and stronger which negated the slight gap in their skills. In all it was very even contest. Both men were well trained and to an observer it would be an excellent display of swordsmanship and tactics.
Craven advanced with a feint to the head and Van Darrin responded with a simultaneous advance and a cut to Craven's side. The move was perfectly timed to break Craven's rhythm, and Van Darrin almost succeeded in slicing open his opponent's ribs. Instead, Craven broke tempo, parried the blade and closed in tight. For a heartbeat their eyes locked over the crossed blades. Van Darrin broke the contact with a vicious rabbit punch into Craven's kidney and a well- timed cut at Craven's head.
Craven had expected the move and responded by diving past Van Darrin in a forward roll. As he rose he sliced his opponent's shin then kept Van Darrin at a distance with a series of deft parries.
Van Darrin's lower leg immediately grew wet with blood. He could feel the warm liquid seep into his boots and under his toes. But it was a minor wound and not one that would hamper his fighting style. Despite that, Van Darrin feigned a limp and watched as Craven resumed his fighting stance. The nobleman forced his eyes wide and tried to assume a panicked expression. At this stage he would grab every advantage no matter how slight and if he could lure Craven into a false sense of security, then that might be enough to tip the scales in his direction.
At that moment Yerqyll completed his third spell and brought into existence a magical whip. The mage flicked his wrist and lashed out at Craven, the material whip-like substance trapped the young duellist's sword tight. Craven struggled to free his blade even as Van Darrin charged. The nobleman thrust at Craven's heart but the assassin rolled to his right catching Van Darrin's blade in the shoulder.
Even as Van Darrin poised for a second strike, Craven tore his rapier free - severing the magical whip. Craven tried valiantly to parry Van Darrin's thrust but screamed in pain as the nobleman's blade entered his abdomen. Something snapped inside the young assassin and, as he beat a hasty retreat, a fire lit in Craven's mind. The flames of fury engulfed Craven's pain and fuelled his extraordinary strength. The rage clouded Craven's judgment and all thoughts of attack and counter-attack were lost in an all-consuming desire for blood.
| Craven | You die! |
| Van Darrin | (calmly) You first. |
Keldirk's tears washed the ash from his eyes and the assassin's vision had returned. Proctor was putting up a valiant fight but he had lost a lot of blood and Keldirk knew that it was only a matter of time before fatigue set in.
| Keldirk | You're tiring. |
| Proctor | (breathing hard) The longer I live the more chance Dickson has to reach safety. (slashes at Keldirk) |
| Keldirk | Incorrect. (deflects Proctor's feeble attack) My colleagues in the bushes have probably already caught him. |
| Proctor | (coughs) Your colleagues? |
| Keldirk | Of course. And when I'm through with you I'll play with him. (lunges forward, opening a long gash in Proctor's arm) I haven't played with a boy in such a long time. |
| Proctor | (despairingly) Not if I kill you first! |
Keldirk allowed Proctor to charge. The young assassin stepped deftly to his right and brought his blade down upon the back of Proctor's exposed neck. The blade bit deep, not deep enough to sever the head, but deep enough to sever the carotid artery and send a fountain of blood into the air.
| Keldirk | (whistles) Impressive. |
Azareth completed his spell and fashioned the illusionary form of a treant. He concentrated for a moment, fixing the image in his mind, before sending it lumbering toward Yerqyll. Azareth had never seen a treant, he had only read of them in the Family's library. He knew that treants were creatures of the forest and he hoped that the mage would concentrate his attention on the phantasmal creature.
The resident turned and faced Azareth's creation as it emerged from the trees, the words to a spell already on his lips. But, as the massive walking tree ambled toward him, he began to notice certain oddities that caused him to doubt the reality of what he saw. Yerqyll hesitated for a moment and focussed a discerning eye upon the creature. Something didn't seem right. Suddenly the phantasm shimmered and the resident saw the creature for what it was - a thing of illusion.
| Yerqyll | (spins around and peers into the trees, catching a glimpse of Azareth's fire-damaged robes) Pathetic! You'll have to do better than that! |
| Azareth | (gulps) |
| Yerqyll | (recovers a small ball of spider's silk from his pouch and begins to cast) Arachne'Ak Dyre shadow-hor Khe Var, iom neh-durak |
Creighton and Gunther hammered away at each other with gay abandon. Both men had lost their swords and were now waist-deep in the waters of the Harp River. They traded blows that would've felled lesser men and both were dripping with blood. But Gunther was worse off and he knew that he couldn't win. He had lost a lot of blood from the wound in his side and the pain from his burns threatened to overwhelm him. With a last gasp he lunged, wrapping his hands about Creighton's throat.
Creighton took a deep breath as his opponent closed. He wrapped his arms about Gunther's waist and dragged him under. The bodyguard wasn't prepared for the move and didn't have time to fill his lungs. Creighton squeezed with all his might, snapping two of Gunther's ribs and expelling the last breath of air from the stricken man's lungs.
| Gunther | (wriggles feebly for several moments then drowns) |
| Creighton | (splashes to the surface triumphantly, spluttering) |
Creighton waded closer to shore, recovered his sword from the shallow water and surveyed the scene. Keldirk and Craven seemed to have their situations under control - but Azareth was in dire straits. The resident had trapped Azareth in a sticky web-like mass and was in the midst of casting a spell at Craven.
| Creighton | (picks up a river stone and flings it toward Yerqyll, striking the mage on the side of the head) Hey! Over here! |
| Yerqyll | (his concentration broken, turns angrily toward Creighton and begins to cast again) |
| Creighton | (charges toward Yerqyll, hoping to reach the mage before his casting ends) |
| Azareth | (looks on hopelessly) Hurry, Creighton! |
The mage uttered the words to his incantation as fast as he dared. But as quick as he was, Creighton was quicker. The big warrior crashed into the stationary mage with all his might, disrupting the mage's spell and knocking him to the ground. Without hesitation Creighton rolled to his feet and stabbed his sword into the mage's chest, the blade pierced vital organs and buried itself three inches into the earth below.
| Creighton | Yargh!! |
Keldirk watched Craven's battle with Van Darrin for a few moments before charging off into the trees. He knew that Craven was in trouble but he also knew that Craven didn't want any help. He scanned the area, saw Creighton grappling with the mage and, knowing Craven would have help should he need it, decided to run off after Dickson.
Craven had lost all semblance of control. Without any regard for his own safety he flung his sword at Van Darrin then charged forward, his fingers reaching for the nobleman's flesh. Van Darrin barely had time to defend himself. He battered aside Craven's flying rapier then thrust his sword into Craven's stomach, slowing the assassin's mad rush.
But Craven didn't stop.
He pushed on and on, driving Van Darrin's blade through his own body. Van Darrin's eyes were wide with terror as Craven's fingers wrapped around his throat. The nobleman tried to withdraw his blade and stab again but the maddened assassin had managed to trap his sword-arm in the embrace. Craven's fingers dug into Van Darrin's flesh and pulled the nobleman closer. Van Darrin tried to burst free but he was held firm in Craven's preternaturally strong grip. There was no escape.
Craven forced the nobleman's head back and bit into his exposed throat. The assassin clenched his jaws shut and tore a large hole in Van Darrin's throat. Blood spewed from the wound and bathed Craven in its crimson warmth.
| Creighton | (looking on) Holy crap. |
| Normal Text | Character's words or descriptive text if part of a paragraph |
| Italic Text | Character's thoughts or actions if surrounded by parenthesis |
| Bold Text | Character is shouting. |