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The Long Road, Part 6 - Still Hours to Dawn


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#1 Anaviel

Posted 03 December 2002 - 01:32 AM

I'm too tired and lazy to think of anything to say besides enjoy and all comments and criticism are welcome.



 
A cruel god made from iron, the city and all it’s people might as well have been insects beneath his blood-drenched feet. He would stomp, crumpling buildings beneath his feet and laugh as he listened to the sweet music of their screams. To have such power, it was more than he could hope for. To be the new Lord of Murder, to have people tremble in his wake. Such power should, would, belong to him, and no one else. He was the righteous hero slaying villains, the mercy killer putting people out of their misery, the assassin killing for hire, the serial killer stalking little children, monster, murderer.

Murder.

Then a sharp object, a splinter, a thorn, stuck into heel and his iron shell shattered. He fell. He was ten years old again. The place was twisted, but still he recognized it as his former home. Melted clocks and a portrait of his mother with eyes that seemed to follow him, hung on the wall. A burn candle with a bright red flame sat on the table, dripping blood. A dim light came from the kitchen as candlelight danced on the walls. Singing, beautiful singing filled the hall, reminding him of nightingales, though he could not make out the song. A smooth, sweet melody, it could easily have been a love ballad. He hummed along as he drifted into the kitchen. The smell of wine and freshly picked roses lingered in the air. The tune took on a shrill hollow sound, which he found hauntingly beautiful. She stood in the kitchen, hold a rose and singing to herself. A trickle of blood ran down her finger as she pricked herself with a thorn.

She turned to him. There was nothing but emptiness behind her eyes. Her skin was pale, the color of the full moon hovering outside. Her lips moved, but he could not make out what she was saying. “Mother?” he said, his voice that of a ten year old. The haunting music continued to play as she spoke, pleaded. For what? Her lips kept moving, but he could not make out her words. No sound save for the song playing in the background, it reminded him of Siren, or perhaps a banshee. A dark silhouette appeared behind her, placing a rope around her neck. Her lips moved as he pulled the garrote tighter. It cut into her neck, and her figure became bloated. Still she pleaded, even if he could not hear what she was trying to say. It was clear she wanted him to save her. How could he save her? He could do nothing but stand and watch. She was already dead. All he felt, as her dead image faded away was chill going down his spine as though some had pored cold water down his back.

A cold sweat stung Sarevok’s eyes as he sat up. He took a deep breath. Tamoko slept peacefully next to him. She muttered something and rolled over as he lied back and starred up at the ceiling. Soft moonlight crept in through his windows. Another nightmare, another chance and again he could not save. What did it matter? Mother had been weak and a fool, though she still did not deserve her fate. And it was only a dream, a nightmare. ‘Father’ had warned him that he would share her fate, should he be unfaithful as she had been. But he was done fearing him. The threats were as hollow as the song in the dream.

Tamoko moved over and placed her head on his arm. How long had she been awake without his noticing? She looked up at him and said, “You think too much. Go back to sleep.”

“Perhaps, in a moment,” he said. He did not feel like sleeping. Instead he stood and gazed out the window. It was a clear night, lit by a full moon. Gorion’s little brat was still out there. Twice already his assassins failed to kill her. How was it that she survived? The fact that she was alive was an insult. The wolves should have feasted on her flesh. Would she be the thorn shattering his dreams? She had protection, well equipped traveling companions. But he should not be so concerned over a mere girl who at the moment was harmless. Better to kill a larva before it grows into a wasp. He turned around and went back to bed. There were still hours to dawn.

 

Beregost was quiet in the night, almost eerily so especially compared to business of the day. Xzar trailed next to him. The rest of fools slept peacefully at the jovial juggler. He needed a break from all those do-gooders. Montaron could care less about saving people, or protecting the innocent, or rescuing fluffy, pink bunnies and any other nice-nice thing that they’d be interested in doing. It churned his stomach. Blasted fools, didn’t they know that caring about such ting never accomplishes anything, and will leave them burned in the end. If they survived long enough perhaps they would learn. He did.

How many years had it been since Milleyna died? Thirty? No, more like forty? Perhaps it had been even more than that. She had been a sweet girl, his darling Milley. He met her one night in Luskan. At the time he had been a wanted criminal, a murderer, and that city seemed liked a place where he could blend in. It had seemed like love at first sight when they met, not that he believed in love. Milley had never loved him. They had been traveling south when she noticed the bounty notice. His darling fool had gotten the bright idea of taking for herself. She had almost succeeded too. He still remembered the surprised look on her face as he ran her through.

A man stood in front of the burning wizard, whistling an annoyingly happy tune. The fool paid not attention to his surroundings. A perfect mark, thought Montaron. “Psst..Xzar, distract him I try to lighten his purse.” The necromancer’s face lit up. This would be too easy. Montaron chuckled to himself as they strolled towards him.

“Excuse me, but I couldn’t help but notice that spot on you shirt,” said Xzar. Perfect, as long as Xzar could keep him distracted. It was almost too easy. Montaron kept his fingers ready. Opportunity could knock at any moment.

“A spot? Where?” The man looked down, searching for a spot that didn’t exist. Montaron’s hand darted towards his coin purse. He took a dagger and sliced a hole in it, and enjoyed the sight of gold falling into his hand.

“There,” said Xzar, pointing to a spot on his shirt.

“I still don’t see it…” he looked down again, and then to his sides. “Hey what are you doing?” The man had spotted Monty standing behind him with his hand under his coin purse.

“Um…I just saw your money laying on the ground next to ye and thought I’d pick it up before ye walked away and forgot it.” Montaron swallowed. This man was truly a fool if he bought that line, but it was the best he could come up with.

“I think you were trying to pick pocket me,” he said.

Montaron drew his blade. “So what if we were?” At least this way he would walk away with some gold, even if he had to kill the man. Anything who whistled such an annoying song deserved no less.

The man tooked a few steps back. “N- no need for that really. If you’re that desperate, I’m looking for someone to do an easy job that pays even more than I have on me.”

Montaron squinted at him and tilted his head. What job could this boy possibly have to offer? He looked barely old enough to shave. “So ye do? What kinda job and what does it pay?”

“Let me explain. I'm Garrick and I work for Silke Rosena. She's the most skilled musician and actor along the Sword Coast; in fact, she's to play at the Duchal palace before the month's done. But...”

Montaron rolled his eyes. “Yes get on wit it. What is this job?”

“Um, right. Well she's been having some problems of late. Some thugs have been hired by Feldepost to hurt her bad, because she didn't perform at his inn when she was supposed to. You can't blame her for not showing up, what with a villain like Feldepost running the place. She needs mercenaries to protect her until she's ready to go to Baldur's Gate. She's willing to pay about three hundred gold. What do you say?

“And how just how long would we have to protect her for?” They didn’t have too much time to waste, they still had to get to Nashkel.

“Just a day at the most, I suppose she could pay you more if you had to protect her for longer…”

“Fine, fine. For three hundred gold ye have our services. Any more than that and let’s just say that gold can be very persuasive.”

Garrick smiled. “Good, in the morning meet us outside the Red Sheaf. I’ll introduce you to my mistress then.”

Montaron headed back to the inn, eager to tell the rest of the party about their new job. He waited downstairs for them to get. Pointless going back to sleep when morning was so close. At breakfast, he made the announcement. He had expected more objection, but to his surprise found none save for the skepticism of an irritable druid. But then she seemed to be skeptical of nearly everything.

“Oh?” she said, “What is the catch? Surely there has to be something else to it.” He pretended to look hurt. “With you there is always something, am I wrong?”

“N-now Jaheira, it seems honest enough. And we c-could use the gold,” said Khalid, her stuttering fool of a husband.

They walked to the Red Sheaf. Standing in front it was Garrick and women with a hood over her head, which he guessed had to be Garrick’s mistress Silke Rosena. As they approached, she pulled back her hood revealing her long black hair. Makeup covered her face like a mask and a gaudy but worthless necklace hung around her neck. “So Garrick, these are the only mercenaries you could find. I guess they'll have to do. She stared at them as if appraising their worth. “You do look to be worth about three hundred gold. That is what my little Garrick offered you, isn’t it?” Her mouth twisted into a smirk.

“I offered three hundred gold, just like you told me.”

“Well then, I assume that Garrick has explained what your duties are.” Her liquid voice matched her name. “You must simply dispose of the ruffians when they come to threaten me. They shouldn't be too hard to deal with, but I would advise you to strike fast. Whatever you do don't speak with them. One of them is a mage whose mystic words can sway even the most wise of men.”

They had not waited long when three cloaked men came walking towards them, but they looked more like merchants than ruffians and they appeared to be unarmed. Were these the men Silke feared? This would be the easiest three hundred he ever made. “Here they are now: Feldepost’s thugs. Strike when I tell you to.”

“Greetings Silke. We’re here as you’ve asked and we have the…”said one of the men. He had a confused look on his face. Obviously he wasn’t a ruffian, not that it mattered. Three hundred gold was three hundred gold no matter how it’s acquired.

“Don’t threaten me. I won’t be easy prey for you to beat on. I’ve brought friends.” She sounded rehearsed, like she had practiced that line a thousand time in front of the mirror. She pointed to party.

“What are you talking about? I’m here with the gem…” Montaron’s ears perked up. A gem? Probably valuable. He’d have to find a way to acquire it later.

“There will no weaseling out of this one.” She turned to the part. “Strike the down. Now!”

“Wait,” said Katora. Fool girl was going to ruin everything; he just knew it. She obviously had the intellect to match that blonde hair of hers. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but I don’t want any part of it.” Just splendid, he thought, there goes three hundred gold.

Silke looked startled for a moment. She scowled and glared at them. “Our deal is off. You’re probably too cowardly to be of any use in a fight anyway. I’ll deal with them, after I deal with you.”

The fight was over almost as soon as it begun. She chanted and waved her arms, giving Khalid an opportunity to plunge his sword into her chest. They breathed a sigh of relief as she collapsed on the ground. Montaron went to search her pockets and found four hundred gold. It was a profitable morning after all, even if the rest of the party wasn’t exactly in a good mood.

Katora glared at him, her gaze would have been better suited to a basilisk. “If you ever, ever, get us involved in something like this again I’ll…I’ll….Oh I don’t know what I’d do, but just do the rest of us a favor and don’t volunteer us for anything again, got it?” She spoke as though it was his fault they had been deceived. Not that it really mattered in the end. Silke was dead. They had their gold. Beyond that, he didn't care.

#2 Guest_Hunter_*

Posted 03 December 2002 - 05:45 AM

I'm too tired and lazy to think of anything to say besides enjoy and all comments and criticism are welcome.


The title is appropiate, it's still dark here.



How many years had it been since Milleyna died? Thirty? No, more like forty? Perhaps it had been even more than that. She had been a sweet girl, his darling Milley. He met her one night in Luskan. At the time he had been a wanted criminal, a murderer, and that city seemed liked a place where he could blend in. It had seemed like love at first sight when they met, not that he believed in love. Milley had never loved him. They had been traveling south when she noticed the bounty notice. His darling fool had gotten the bright idea of taking for herself. She had almost succeeded too. He still remembered the surprised look on her face as he ran her through.


That halfling will get what he deserves.


“A spot? Where?” The man looked down, searching for a spot that didn’t exist. Montaron’s hand darted towards his coin purse. He took a dagger and sliced a hole in it, and enjoyed the sight of gold falling into his hand.


Idiot.


“Um…I just saw your money laying on the ground next to ye and thought I’d pick it up before ye walked away and forgot it.” Montaron swallowed. This man was truly a fool if he bought that line, but it was the best he could come up with.


“I think you were trying to pick pocket me,” he said.


Oh! You think so einstein.


“Let me explain. I'm Garrick and I work for Silke Rosena. She's the most skilled musician and actor along the Sword Coast; in fact, she's to play at the Duchal palace before the month's done. But...”


Not her!.


Montaron headed back to the inn, eager to tell the rest of the party about their new job. He waited downstairs for them to get. Pointless going back to sleep when morning was so close. At breakfast, he made the announcement. He had expected more objection, but to his surprise found none save for the skepticism of an irritable druid. But then she seemed to be skeptical of nearly everything.


Jaheira is just born that way. But she becomes somewhat more friendly in BG2

“Oh?” she said, “What is the catch? Surely there has to be something else to it.” He pretended to look hurt. “With you there is always something, am I wrong?”


She's right.


“Wait,” said Katora. Fool girl was going to ruin everything; he just knew it. She obviously had the intellect to match that blonde hair of hers. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but I don’t want any part of it.” Just splendid, he thought, there goes three hundred gold.


Good girl.


Katora glared at him, her gaze would have been better suited to a basilisk. “If you ever, ever, get us involved in something like this again I’ll…I’ll….Oh I don’t know what I’d do, but just do the rest of us a favor and don’t volunteer us for anything again, got it?” She spoke as though it was his fault they had been deceived. Not that it really mattered in the end. Silke was dead. They had their gold. Beyond that, he didn't care.


I'm quite sere that jaheira could petrify people if she stared hard enough.

#3 Guest_Nyx_*

Posted 03 December 2002 - 08:24 AM

I'm too tired and lazy to think of anything to say besides enjoy and all comments and criticism are welcome.


And enjoy I certain did. Loved the Sarevok dream sequence. Big surprise there... but seriously, it was really well done, especially...

He was the righteous hero slaying villains, the mercy killer putting people out of their misery, the assassin killing for hire, the serial killer stalking little children, monster, murderer.


Mm, what a wonderful way to describe his vision.

And...


Then a sharp object, a splinter, a thorn, stuck into heel and his iron shell shattered. He fell. He was ten years old again. The place was twisted, but still he recognized it as his former home. Melted clocks and a portrait of his mother with eyes that seemed to follow him, hung on the wall. A burn candle with a bright red flame sat on the table, dripping blood. A dim light came from the kitchen as candlelight danced on the walls. Singing, beautiful singing filled the hall, reminding him of nightingales, though he could not make out the song. A smooth, sweet melody, it could easily have been a love ballad. He hummed along as he drifted into the kitchen. The smell of wine and freshly picked roses lingered in the air. The tune took on a shrill hollow sound, which he found hauntingly beautiful. She stood in the kitchen, hold a rose and singing to herself. A trickle of blood ran down her finger as she pricked herself with a thorn.


I just love this. Beautiful descriptions, and such atmosphere.

Tamoko moved over and placed her head on his arm. How long had she been awake without his noticing? She looked up at him and said, “You think too much. Go back to sleep.”


LOL, that was blunt!

How many years had it been since Milleyna died? Thirty? No, more like forty? Perhaps it had been even more than that. She had been a sweet girl, his darling Milley. He met her one night in Luskan. At the time he had been a wanted criminal, a murderer, and that city seemed liked a place where he could blend in. It had seemed like love at first sight when they met, not that he believed in love. Milley had never loved him. They had been traveling south when she noticed the bounty notice. His darling fool had gotten the bright idea of taking for herself. She had almost succeeded too. He still remembered the surprised look on her face as he ran her through.


LOL, again, I fear. :D I love the way you characterize Montaron; he doesn't get a lot of exposure, as Xzar is well, more memorable, one might say. :D

“Um…I just saw your money laying on the ground next to ye and thought I’d pick it up before ye walked away and forgot it.” Montaron swallowed. This man was truly a fool if he bought that line, but it was the best he could come up with.


He's not great with thinking on the spot, is he? :wink: LOL

“Let me explain. I'm Garrick and I work for Silke Rosena. She's the most skilled musician and actor along the Sword Coast; in fact, she's to play at the Duchal palace before the month's done. But...”


Ack, it's GARRICK! :)

“Wait,” said Katora. Fool girl was going to ruin everything; he just knew it. She obviously had the intellect to match that blonde hair of hers.


Azura, being blonde, says, "Hey!"

Katora glared at him, her gaze would have been better suited to a basilisk. “If you ever, ever, get us involved in something like this again I’ll…I’ll….Oh I don’t know what I’d do, but just do the rest of us a favor and don’t volunteer us for anything again, got it?” She spoke as though it was his fault they had been deceived. Not that it really mattered in the end. Silke was dead. They had their gold. Beyond that, he didn't care.


Argh, poor Katora! She's got the worst party in the history of the world, lol. :)

Great chapter. :)

-Nyx

#4 Guest_Winski Perorate_*

Posted 03 December 2002 - 08:33 AM

 
A cruel god made from iron, the city and all it’s people might as well have been insects beneath his blood-drenched feet. He would stomp, crumpling buildings beneath his feet and laugh as he listened to the sweet music of their screams. To have such power, it was more than he could hope for. To be the new Lord of Murder, to have people tremble in his wake. Such power should, would, belong to him, and no one else. He was the righteous hero slaying villains, the mercy killer putting people out of their misery, the assassin killing for hire, the serial killer stalking little children, monster, murderer.


Aye, the power of the blood was very alluring. It is interesting that murder is also mentioned in the case of righteous hero. And truly enough, as Sarevok nowadays puts it - a dead man is a dead man, and murder is murder.

She turned to him. There was nothing but emptiness behind her eyes. Her skin was pale, the color of the full moon hovering outside. Her lips moved, but he could not make out what she was saying. “Mother?” he said, his voice that of a ten year old. The haunting music continued to play as she spoke, pleaded. For what? Her lips kept moving, but he could not make out her words. No sound save for the song playing in the background, it reminded him of Siren, or perhaps a banshee. A dark silhouette appeared behind her, placing a rope around her neck. Her lips moved as he pulled the garrote tighter. It cut into her neck, and her figure became bloated. Still she pleaded, even if he could not hear what she was trying to say. It was clear she wanted him to save her. How could he save her? He could do nothing but stand and watch. She was already dead. All he felt, as her dead image faded away was chill going down his spine as though some had pored cold water down his back.


*shiver*
My worst memory... no matter the damp hopelessness of Hades, my worst Hell was already on the face of Toril, when I found her dead. Heartbreaking memory.

Peri: "Winski is too distraught to nitpick, but I will point out that a garrote has a wire rather than a rope."

A cold sweat stung Sarevok’s eyes as he sat up. He took a deep breath. Tamoko slept peacefully next to him. She muttered something and rolled over as he lied back and starred up at the ceiling. Soft moonlight crept in through his windows. Another nightmare, another chance and again he could not save. What did it matter? Mother had been weak and a fool, though she still did not deserve her fate. And it was only a dream, a nightmare. ‘Father’ had warned him that he would share her fate, should he be unfaithful as she had been. But he was done fearing him. The threats were as hollow as the song in the dream.


I must confess I always enjoy seeing Reiltar bite the dust.

Beregost was quiet in the night, almost eerily so especially compared to business of the day. Xzar trailed next to him. The rest of fools slept peacefully at the jovial juggler. He needed a break from all those do-gooders. Montaron could care less about saving people, or protecting the innocent, or rescuing fluffy, pink bunnies and any other nice-nice thing that they’d be interested in doing. It churned his stomach. Blasted fools, didn’t they know that caring about such ting never accomplishes anything, and will leave them burned in the end. If they survived long enough perhaps they would learn. He did.


Peri was very fond of Montaron, vicious little bastard as he was. They had approximately the same idea of heroics and such to boot.

Katora glared at him, her gaze would have been better suited to a basilisk. “If you ever, ever, get us involved in something like this again I’ll…I’ll….Oh I don’t know what I’d do, but just do the rest of us a favor and don’t volunteer us for anything again, got it?” She spoke as though it was his fault they had been deceived. Not that it really mattered in the end. Silke was dead. They had their gold. Beyond that, he didn't care.


A true mercenary, I see.

#5 Guest_zan_*

Posted 03 December 2002 - 06:43 PM

dream sequences are good things...and this one was no exception! some lovely imagery in there, and well-crafted visuals...really very well done, and a strong base off which to launch the rest of the chapter. i realise you wrote like that to create the nightmare effect...but if you let that style bleed into the rest of your writing, i wouldn't complain ;) (the narrative is very good as it is, of course, but the prose for the dream was delicious! i do accept, however, that it might feel a bit much writing in that style all the time). i do like your portrayal of sarevok too - bit of a badass, and potentially quite a threat to Katora.

also liked the peek at Montaron's background - you're creating a definite sense of menace around him, real feelings of tension within the party. and loved the description of katora's gaze being like that of a basilisk - small detail, but then they make the story. good job ;)

#6 Anaviel

Posted 03 December 2002 - 08:47 PM

That halfling will get what he deserves.


We shall see..we shall see :D

Idiot.


you got that right :D

Not her!.


Yes her!

Jaheira is just born that way. But she becomes somewhat more friendly in BG2


Yup that's Jaheira all right :lol:.

I'm quite sere that jaheira could petrify people if she stared hard enough.


Heh, probably righ there :lol:.

Thanks for the comments, glad you liked it ;)

#7 Anaviel

Posted 03 December 2002 - 09:05 PM

And enjoy I certain did. Loved the Sarevok dream sequence. Big surprise there... but seriously, it was really well done, especially...


Glad you enjoyed it ;) the dream sequence was a bit of an experiment, it's not my usual style as you can probably tell. :)


I just love this. Beautiful descriptions, and such atmosphere.


Thanks. I was going for the whole nightmare affect ;).


LOL, that was blunt!


It certainly was..

LOL, again, I fear. :) I love the way you characterize Montaron; he doesn't get a lot of exposure, as Xzar is well, more memorable, one might say. :)


Heh, Monty has to be one of my favorite characters.. Xzar is more memorable, but for some reason I like writting Monty better.


He's not great with thinking on the spot, is he? :lol: LOL


Yeah, it doesn't help that he's terrible at excuses as well. :D

Ack, it's GARRICK! :lol:


Yup..naive bard extraodinare :D

Azura, being blonde, says, "Hey!"


Katora: My thoughts exactly.

Argh, poor Katora! She's got the worst party in the history of the world, lol. :?


She sure does, though I suppose it wouldn't be too bad if you got rid of Xzar and Monty.

Great chapter. :P


Thanks glad you liked it :D

#8 Anaviel

Posted 03 December 2002 - 09:29 PM

Aye, the power of the blood was very alluring. It is interesting that murder is also mentioned in the case of righteous hero. And truly enough, as Sarevok nowadays puts it - a dead man is a dead man, and murder is murder.


I think Sarevok pretty much has it right.


*shiver*
My worst memory... no matter the damp hopelessness of Hades, my worst Hell was already on the face of Toril, when I found her dead. Heartbreaking memory.


Aww I'm sorry bringing back such a terrible memory.

Peri: "Winski is too distraught to nitpick, but I will point out that a garrote has a wire rather than a rope."


Actually I looked it up in dictionary and it said something like 'a cord or wire used for strangling' so I think it can be either or..I could be wrong though. I think it can also be a tighted iron collar used for execution as well.


I must confess I always enjoy seeing Reiltar bite the dust.



Yes he did deserve it, didn't he. I always saw it as big turning point for Sarevok as well...

Peri was very fond of Montaron, vicious little bastard as he was. They had approximately the same idea of heroics and such to boot.


I think Katora would've gotten along with him better if she shared his um...ideals.

A true mercenary, I see.


He sure is.

Thanks for commenting. Glad you liked it. :D

#9 Guest_Winski Perorate_*

Posted 03 December 2002 - 09:40 PM

Aww I'm sorry bringing back such a terrible memory.


Well, that story had finally a happy end. She is my wife now.

Actually I looked it up in dictionary and it said something like 'a cord or wire used for strangling' so I think it can be either or..I could be wrong though. I think it can also be a tighted iron collar used for execution as well.


You could be right about the execution device (sounds rather atrocious by the way), but rope sounds very thick for strangling people by squeezing it around their neck. The garrotes I have seen pictures of have all had thin wires.z

Yes he did deserve it, didn't he. I always saw it as big turning point for Sarevok as well...


Our Sarevok was far gone by that time. It was Tamoko who killed Reiltar in our reality.

#10 Anaviel

Posted 03 December 2002 - 09:43 PM

dream sequences are good things...and this one was no exception! some lovely imagery in there, and well-crafted visuals...really very well done, and a strong base off which to launch the rest of the chapter. i realise you wrote like that to create the nightmare effect...but if you let that style bleed into the rest of your writing, i wouldn't complain :D (the narrative is very good as it is, of course, but the prose for the dream was delicious! i do accept, however, that it might feel a bit much writing in that style all the time). i do like your portrayal of sarevok too - bit of a badass, and potentially quite a threat to Katora.


Glad you liked it. Thanks :D. The dream sequence was a bit of an experiment, definately not my usual style. Yeah I think it would be to much if wrote like this all the time...but with the right narrator perhaps. Monty's too blunt for this style to work with him as the POV character. Something inbetween the two styles might work though ;).


also liked the peek at Montaron's background - you're creating a definite sense of menace around him, real feelings of tension within the party. and loved the description of katora's gaze being like that of a basilisk - small detail, but then they make the story. good job :lol:


Thanks. Monty has to be one of my favorite characters. Glad you liked it. :lol:

#11 Weyoun

Posted 03 December 2002 - 09:50 PM

 
A cruel god made from iron, the city and all it’s people might as well have been insects beneath his blood-drenched feet. He would stomp, crumpling buildings beneath his feet and laugh as he listened to the sweet music of their screams. To have such power, it was more than he could hope for. To be the new Lord of Murder, to have people tremble in his wake. Such power should, would, belong to him, and no one else. He was the righteous hero slaying villains, the mercy killer putting people out of their misery, the assassin killing for hire, the serial killer stalking little children, monster, murderer.


Wow...

Murder.


Then a sharp object, a splinter, a thorn, stuck into heel and his iron shell shattered. He fell. He was ten years old again. The place was twisted, but still he recognized it as his former home. Melted clocks and a portrait of his mother with eyes that seemed to follow him, hung on the wall. A burn candle with a bright red flame sat on the table, dripping blood. A dim light came from the kitchen as candlelight danced on the walls. Singing, beautiful singing filled the hall, reminding him of nightingales, though he could not make out the song. A smooth, sweet melody, it could easily have been a love ballad. He hummed along as he drifted into the kitchen. The smell of wine and freshly picked roses lingered in the air. The tune took on a shrill hollow sound, which he found hauntingly beautiful. She stood in the kitchen, hold a rose and singing to herself. A trickle of blood ran down her finger as she pricked herself with a thorn.


Great scene. Pride goeth before the fall.

“Perhaps, in a moment,” he said. He did not feel like sleeping. Instead he stood and gazed out the window. It was a clear night, lit by a full moon. Gorion’s little brat was still out there. Twice already his assassins failed to kill her. How was it that she survived? The fact that she was alive was an insult. The wolves should have feasted on her flesh. Would she be the thorn shattering his dreams? She had protection, well equipped traveling companions. But he should not be so concerned over a mere girl who at the moment was harmless. Better to kill a larva before it grows into a wasp. He turned around and went back to bed. There were still hours to dawn.


*grin* That 'brat' will be the nail on your coffin, mr. Sarevok. :D Sarevok constantly underestimates the Pc.

A man stood in front of the burning wizard, whistling an annoyingly happy tune. The fool paid not attention to his surroundings. A perfect mark, thought Montaron. “Psst..Xzar, distract him I try to lighten his purse.” The necromancer’s face lit up. This would be too easy. Montaron chuckled to himself as they strolled towards him.


LOL! Monty... will you ever learn? :D

“I still don’t see it…” he looked down again, and then to his sides. “Hey what are you doing?” The man had spotted Monty standing behind him with his hand under his coin purse.


D'OH! ;)

Montaron squinted at him and tilted his head. What job could this boy possibly have to offer? He looked barely old enough to shave. “So ye do? What kinda job and what does it pay?”


“Let me explain. I'm Garrick and I work for Silke Rosena. She's the most skilled musician and actor along the Sword Coast; in fact, she's to play at the Duchal palace before the month's done. But...”


Hey, Garrick! How's he doin'? :lol:

Silke looked startled for a moment. She scowled and glared at them. “Our deal is off. You’re probably too cowardly to be of any use in a fight anyway. I’ll deal with them, after I deal with you.”


The fight was over almost as soon as it begun. She chanted and waved her arms, giving Khalid an opportunity to plunge his sword into her chest. They breathed a sigh of relief as she collapsed on the ground. Montaron went to search her pockets and found four hundred gold. It was a profitable morning after all, even if the rest of the party wasn’t exactly in a good mood.


LOL! For all her bluster, she turned out to be a dud. :lol:

Katora glared at him, her gaze would have been better suited to a basilisk. “If you ever, ever, get us involved in something like this again I’ll…I’ll….Oh I don’t know what I’d do, but just do the rest of us a favor and don’t volunteer us for anything again, got it?” She spoke as though it was his fault they had been deceived. Not that it really mattered in the end. Silke was dead. They had their gold. Beyond that, he didn't care.


Great stuff,
---Weyoun

#12 Anaviel

Posted 03 December 2002 - 09:54 PM

Well, that story had finally a happy end. She is my wife now.


Glad to hear that :D I really must catch up on the whole Sarevok saga.

You could be right about the execution device (sounds rather atrocious by the way), but rope sounds very thick for strangling people by squeezing it around their neck. The garrotes I have seen pictures of have all had thin wires.z


Hmm...I suppose it would depend on the thickness of the rope. In this case it was pretty thin, like something you would use to open curtains.

Our Sarevok was far gone by that time. It was Tamoko who killed Reiltar in our reality.


*Sigh* that's one story I really need to catch up on.

#13 Anaviel

Posted 03 December 2002 - 10:03 PM

Great scene. Pride goeth before the fall.


Thanks :lol:.

*grin* That 'brat' will be the nail on your coffin, mr. Sarevok. :lol: Sarevok constantly underestimates the Pc.


LOL he sure does ;)

LOL! Monty... will you ever learn? ;)


Nope :D

D'OH! :)


exactly :D

LOL! For all her bluster, she turned out to be a dud. :)


Yup. Though I suppose the party might've been in for trouble if she got that spell off.

Great stuff,
---Weyoun


Thanks:) Glad you liked it.




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