drnuncheon
Explorer
Rain pounded like hammers on the city of Freeport - a battering, ceaseless rain that seemed determined to drown the city, to break it apart and wash it into the sea. In this, it was doomed to failure, as it had been for hundreds of years before. But still it tried.
The rain poured itself in endless sheets on the earthen streets of Drac's End, turning them into a morass of mud and mire that sucked and grasped at the boots of a group of slumming young fops...and the armed men that followed them unseen.
It doused the cobbled byways and alleys of the Old City, washing away the evidence of sin: a faint trickle of red making its way to the rushing sewers. At the source, water splashed and pooled in an empty place that once held a heart.
And on the docks, it soaked five men to the skin. Four, huddled and miserable, pulled oiled cloaks tighter around them, trying to scavenge warmth if not dryness. The fifth walked through the rain as if it were nothing.
Inside the dusty confines of a warehouse, the sound of the rain was muted almost to silence. Lanterns, barely burning, cast long shadows as another group of men unload a wagon. One glanced repeatedly towards the ceiling.
"Arjis, what the hell is wrong wth you?"
"Sorry, boss. It's just...the last time we was here..."
"Yeah, yeah. You got nothin' to worry about. They made the crazy elf b-tch a detective...she ain't workin' the docks anymore. And nobody's investigating us, we got that from our inside source."
"I know, but..."
Arjis' sentence was never finished. As he opened his mouth to continue, the heavy wooden doors of the warehouse exploded into splinters. Jagged wooden shrapnel felled three of the smugglers, sending them spinning to the floor.
Five men stepped in from the rain, hooded and cloaked. The tallest, in the center, let his gaze sweep over the stunned smugglers, then nodded almost imperceptibly beneath his hood.
The warehouse erupted into motion, as the smugglers dove for their weapons, but the five men moved slowly, unhurried. Almost in unison, the oiled cloaks fell open, hands twisted into arcane gestures, and the air was filled with the sounds of an alien tongue.
Arjis had just enough time to scream, and then the world was fire.
The rain poured itself in endless sheets on the earthen streets of Drac's End, turning them into a morass of mud and mire that sucked and grasped at the boots of a group of slumming young fops...and the armed men that followed them unseen.
It doused the cobbled byways and alleys of the Old City, washing away the evidence of sin: a faint trickle of red making its way to the rushing sewers. At the source, water splashed and pooled in an empty place that once held a heart.
And on the docks, it soaked five men to the skin. Four, huddled and miserable, pulled oiled cloaks tighter around them, trying to scavenge warmth if not dryness. The fifth walked through the rain as if it were nothing.
Inside the dusty confines of a warehouse, the sound of the rain was muted almost to silence. Lanterns, barely burning, cast long shadows as another group of men unload a wagon. One glanced repeatedly towards the ceiling.
"Arjis, what the hell is wrong wth you?"
"Sorry, boss. It's just...the last time we was here..."
"Yeah, yeah. You got nothin' to worry about. They made the crazy elf b-tch a detective...she ain't workin' the docks anymore. And nobody's investigating us, we got that from our inside source."
"I know, but..."
Arjis' sentence was never finished. As he opened his mouth to continue, the heavy wooden doors of the warehouse exploded into splinters. Jagged wooden shrapnel felled three of the smugglers, sending them spinning to the floor.
Five men stepped in from the rain, hooded and cloaked. The tallest, in the center, let his gaze sweep over the stunned smugglers, then nodded almost imperceptibly beneath his hood.
The warehouse erupted into motion, as the smugglers dove for their weapons, but the five men moved slowly, unhurried. Almost in unison, the oiled cloaks fell open, hands twisted into arcane gestures, and the air was filled with the sounds of an alien tongue.
Arjis had just enough time to scream, and then the world was fire.
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