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The Rise of Felskein [Completed]
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<blockquote data-quote="Iron Sky" data-source="post: 4303861" data-attributes="member: 60965"><p>Session 6, Part 2</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Harold froze, a steaming spoonful of stew half-way to his mouth. He thought he'd heard something outside over the rain and thunder.</p><p> </p><p>A quick glance around the room told him no one else had noticed, but his eyes stopped and the back table. There was only one man there, cowl hiding his face but seeming to be looking in Harold's direction.</p><p> </p><p><em>There were three of them when I came in</em>, Harold thought, a tingle running down his spine. He hadn't seen anyone leave since he'd come in - and he sat right next to the door.</p><p> </p><p>Harold stood and walked slowly to the doorway, still staring at the figure at the back table. The cowl moved slightly, as if the figure was shaking its head at him.</p><p> </p><p>A moment later he was out in the rain, squinting towards half-a-dozen torches that flickered outside the barracks and a dozen figures that clashed there. His bow flew to his hands and he stared hard, singling out one of the two dark figures that fought the Laketide guardsman.</p><p> </p><p>Arrows flew from his bow in rapid succession, slamming into one of the dark figures. After two arrows it had turned towards him, ignoring the guards around it. After four it was rushing towards him in spite of the force of his arrows' impact. After six it collapsed backwards into the mud.</p><p> </p><p>The guards closed in it, but another dark figure leapt over their heads, grabbed the one Harold had dropped, and looked up at Harold, eyes reflecting light like a wolf. And then both were gone.</p><p> </p><p>A voice whispered in Harold's ear. "Turn around and walk back inside. I have no desire to fight you."</p><p> </p><p>The hair rose on Harold's neck and he spun, sword singing from its sheath on his back.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Suniel stepped out of the carriage into the downpour, squinting through the sheets of rain, and saw that his suspicions were not unfounded. Nearby Harold stood face to face with a dark figure, his sword drawn, while guardsmen ran about near the barracks in what seemed to be near-panic.</p><p> </p><p>Suniel cast a shrouding spell and moved to help Harold, but it was over before he could take ten steps.</p><p> </p><p>Harold swung his sword, but the figure sidestepped it like Harold was a child swinging a too-heavy stick and slammed his hand into Harold's face. Harold staggered back but the figure grabbed his wrist and twisted sharply, dropping Harold to one knee and sending his sword splashing into the mud.</p><p> </p><p>Harold tried to pull free, but the figure turn and sent Harold sailing through the air. As he flew, the figure... <em>shifted</em>... one moment perfectly still, the next five feet away, leg straight out to the side, foot slamming into Harold's chest. Harold flew another ten feet, slid fifteen in the mud, and lay unmoving.</p><p> </p><p>The figure turned to where Suniel - still shrouded by his magics - had come to a stop, nodded to him, and was gone.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Grok'nar picked his teeth as he walked out of the inn and wandered over to see what the commotion was.</p><p> </p><p>A few corpses lay sprawled in the mud by the barracks and Grok'nar had to rein in an instinct to search them as guards rushed about him every direction with drawn weapons, staying in tight, anxious-looking groups.</p><p> </p><p>Lieutenant Laris looked grim as he knelt by the half-orc Grok'nar had seen in the inn, his hand on the half-orc's chest. Grok'nar knelt as well, looking the half-orc over for a moment before he spotted the knife sticking from his ribs.</p><p> </p><p>Laris shot a look at him as Grok'nar reached for the knife. "Wait! If we remove it he might die. Wait for the village healer."</p><p> </p><p>Grok'nar made a dismissive gesture and slid it free. "I think he'll be fine," he said as he wiped the knife down on his pant leg, examined it for a moment, and tucked it into his boot. He concentrated for a moment on the Greywarden then stood.</p><p> </p><p>Laris stood as well, eyes still on the fallen figure. "How do you know he'll be ok? The wound looks fatal."</p><p> </p><p>"Not even close," Grok'nar said, nudging the fallen half-orc with his boot. "Hey, ugly, wake up."</p><p> </p><p>A group of mud-splattered soldiers ran up, delivering some sort of quick report. Grok'nar was barely listening, but caught "four dead," "bare hands," and "leapt over the barracks in a single jump."</p><p> </p><p><em>So this isn't just some sort of human dispute-resolution</em>, Grok'nar thought, curiosity suddenly aroused. He was about to ask Laris a question when the half-orc sat up with a gasp.</p><p> </p><p>"Where is he?" the half-orc said, using the barracks wall to pull himself to his feet. "And where is my weapon?"</p><p> </p><p>Laris handed the Graywarden a strange, curved two-bladed sword. "It's here Greywarden. What were they?"</p><p> </p><p>The half-orc stared out at almost-indistinct torchlit groups searching the village, growling. "I told you, he's an assassin. He killed four senior Greywardens and three others when we caught up to him in the middle of the night. Killed them with his bare hands and gave me this when he threw me through a tree." The half-orc gestured to the paralyzed left side of his face where the skin hung, mottled gray. "Only reason I'm alive is he probably thought I was dead. Nearly was."</p><p> </p><p>"I thought you were dead just now," Laris said. "I don't know how you are even standing."</p><p> </p><p>"I don't know either," the half-orc said, putting a hand to his side. A look of puzzlement, then wonder came over his face. "My wound is almost sealed."</p><p> </p><p>Grok'nar smiled faintly and put his hand in his pocket on the green dragonscale he had found, the one that gave him his power.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Kezzek looked up as he finished writing an entry in his book. Lieutenant Laris, the elven wizard, and the hobgoblin looked back at him. Well, the Lieutenant and the elf did; the hobgoblin seemed half-asleep as he lounged in his chair. </p><p> </p><p>Shouts drifted in from the open door as the one the elf had told him was Honor Guard Harold Trisden raced around outside with the soldiers, hunting for the assassins.</p><p> </p><p>He rubbed at the ache in his neck where the assassin's "man" had grabbed him. Where he had been gripped it was strangely cold, almost like ice, and throbbed constantly.</p><p> </p><p>"They are gone by now," Kezzek said. "He's always on the move. I will go to the Greywarden Enclave in Northmand in the morning to report it."</p><p> </p><p>"Prehaps Suniel and Harold will escort you there, they are most capable," Laris said, gesturing to the elf and making a vague gesture towards the torches moving about outside. He turned to Grok'nar. "The Captain wants to meet Grok'nar for himself anyways, so the trip could achieve many purposes."</p><p> </p><p>The elf nodded. "I would like to purchase some things in town; I will go. When Harold gives up on his revenge I imagine he'll come as well. Maybe I should have waited longer before feeding him one of his healing potions..."</p><p> </p><p>Kezzek nodded and closed his book. "It's settled then, we leave in the morning."</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Iron Sky, post: 4303861, member: 60965"] Session 6, Part 2 Harold froze, a steaming spoonful of stew half-way to his mouth. He thought he'd heard something outside over the rain and thunder. A quick glance around the room told him no one else had noticed, but his eyes stopped and the back table. There was only one man there, cowl hiding his face but seeming to be looking in Harold's direction. [I]There were three of them when I came in[/I], Harold thought, a tingle running down his spine. He hadn't seen anyone leave since he'd come in - and he sat right next to the door. Harold stood and walked slowly to the doorway, still staring at the figure at the back table. The cowl moved slightly, as if the figure was shaking its head at him. A moment later he was out in the rain, squinting towards half-a-dozen torches that flickered outside the barracks and a dozen figures that clashed there. His bow flew to his hands and he stared hard, singling out one of the two dark figures that fought the Laketide guardsman. Arrows flew from his bow in rapid succession, slamming into one of the dark figures. After two arrows it had turned towards him, ignoring the guards around it. After four it was rushing towards him in spite of the force of his arrows' impact. After six it collapsed backwards into the mud. The guards closed in it, but another dark figure leapt over their heads, grabbed the one Harold had dropped, and looked up at Harold, eyes reflecting light like a wolf. And then both were gone. A voice whispered in Harold's ear. "Turn around and walk back inside. I have no desire to fight you." The hair rose on Harold's neck and he spun, sword singing from its sheath on his back. *** Suniel stepped out of the carriage into the downpour, squinting through the sheets of rain, and saw that his suspicions were not unfounded. Nearby Harold stood face to face with a dark figure, his sword drawn, while guardsmen ran about near the barracks in what seemed to be near-panic. Suniel cast a shrouding spell and moved to help Harold, but it was over before he could take ten steps. Harold swung his sword, but the figure sidestepped it like Harold was a child swinging a too-heavy stick and slammed his hand into Harold's face. Harold staggered back but the figure grabbed his wrist and twisted sharply, dropping Harold to one knee and sending his sword splashing into the mud. Harold tried to pull free, but the figure turn and sent Harold sailing through the air. As he flew, the figure... [I]shifted[/I]... one moment perfectly still, the next five feet away, leg straight out to the side, foot slamming into Harold's chest. Harold flew another ten feet, slid fifteen in the mud, and lay unmoving. The figure turned to where Suniel - still shrouded by his magics - had come to a stop, nodded to him, and was gone. *** Grok'nar picked his teeth as he walked out of the inn and wandered over to see what the commotion was. A few corpses lay sprawled in the mud by the barracks and Grok'nar had to rein in an instinct to search them as guards rushed about him every direction with drawn weapons, staying in tight, anxious-looking groups. Lieutenant Laris looked grim as he knelt by the half-orc Grok'nar had seen in the inn, his hand on the half-orc's chest. Grok'nar knelt as well, looking the half-orc over for a moment before he spotted the knife sticking from his ribs. Laris shot a look at him as Grok'nar reached for the knife. "Wait! If we remove it he might die. Wait for the village healer." Grok'nar made a dismissive gesture and slid it free. "I think he'll be fine," he said as he wiped the knife down on his pant leg, examined it for a moment, and tucked it into his boot. He concentrated for a moment on the Greywarden then stood. Laris stood as well, eyes still on the fallen figure. "How do you know he'll be ok? The wound looks fatal." "Not even close," Grok'nar said, nudging the fallen half-orc with his boot. "Hey, ugly, wake up." A group of mud-splattered soldiers ran up, delivering some sort of quick report. Grok'nar was barely listening, but caught "four dead," "bare hands," and "leapt over the barracks in a single jump." [I]So this isn't just some sort of human dispute-resolution[/I], Grok'nar thought, curiosity suddenly aroused. He was about to ask Laris a question when the half-orc sat up with a gasp. "Where is he?" the half-orc said, using the barracks wall to pull himself to his feet. "And where is my weapon?" Laris handed the Graywarden a strange, curved two-bladed sword. "It's here Greywarden. What were they?" The half-orc stared out at almost-indistinct torchlit groups searching the village, growling. "I told you, he's an assassin. He killed four senior Greywardens and three others when we caught up to him in the middle of the night. Killed them with his bare hands and gave me this when he threw me through a tree." The half-orc gestured to the paralyzed left side of his face where the skin hung, mottled gray. "Only reason I'm alive is he probably thought I was dead. Nearly was." "I thought you were dead just now," Laris said. "I don't know how you are even standing." "I don't know either," the half-orc said, putting a hand to his side. A look of puzzlement, then wonder came over his face. "My wound is almost sealed." Grok'nar smiled faintly and put his hand in his pocket on the green dragonscale he had found, the one that gave him his power. *** Kezzek looked up as he finished writing an entry in his book. Lieutenant Laris, the elven wizard, and the hobgoblin looked back at him. Well, the Lieutenant and the elf did; the hobgoblin seemed half-asleep as he lounged in his chair. Shouts drifted in from the open door as the one the elf had told him was Honor Guard Harold Trisden raced around outside with the soldiers, hunting for the assassins. He rubbed at the ache in his neck where the assassin's "man" had grabbed him. Where he had been gripped it was strangely cold, almost like ice, and throbbed constantly. "They are gone by now," Kezzek said. "He's always on the move. I will go to the Greywarden Enclave in Northmand in the morning to report it." "Prehaps Suniel and Harold will escort you there, they are most capable," Laris said, gesturing to the elf and making a vague gesture towards the torches moving about outside. He turned to Grok'nar. "The Captain wants to meet Grok'nar for himself anyways, so the trip could achieve many purposes." The elf nodded. "I would like to purchase some things in town; I will go. When Harold gives up on his revenge I imagine he'll come as well. Maybe I should have waited longer before feeding him one of his healing potions..." Kezzek nodded and closed his book. "It's settled then, we leave in the morning." [/QUOTE]
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