Upgrade your account to a Community Supporter account and remove most of the site ads.
Rocket your D&D 5E and Level Up: Advanced 5E games into space! Alpha Star Magazine Is Launching... Right Now!

Reply to thread

Message: <blockquote data-quote="BLACKDIRGE" data-source="post: 638070" data-attributes="member: 1953">As promised here is the second half of Tuesday's post. I will post stats and histories for Azakai Tormtor and poor old Thagmot in the next post.Dirge**************************************************Weapon Master Blues, Part IIThe inn of the Blighted Behir was arguably the worst inn in the entire city of Erelhei-Cinlu, a dangerous, filthy den of cutthroats and murderers it served cheap wine by the gallon and often as not served many patrons their very last drink, period. Azakai Tormtor had been frequenting the vile establishment for years and was well known by its owner and proprietor Vilshank, a degenerate svirfneblin rogue who had obtained the inn in a game of dice. The drow of the city avoided the Blighted Behir like the plague and Azakai was certainly the only drow of noble birth ever to darken its doorway. Fights were common and Vilshank employed a pair of ogre mercenaries to keep the peace or just to dump the bodies of the slain, after they were thoroughly looted, into the trash pile. The inn’s patrons had learned long ago, after the quick and brutal death of more than a few of them, that when the drow weapon master was in his cups he was best left alone. Only Vilshank and the numerous whores he employed even dared speak to Azakai and even they did so only when absolutely necessary. Grummok, of course knew all of this and he also knew that Thagmot and his men were quite simply marching off to their deaths. The gargoyle assassin just needed the doomed bugbear to create a slight diversion to focus Azakai’s attention elsewhere while he moved into position. Grummok did not have to wait long for Thagmot and his men to stir up trouble, mere minutes after they had entered the Blighted Behir the tell tale sounds of combat erupted from the ramshackle inn. In response to the noise Grummok pulled a small potion vial from his belt and quickly drank down its contents, seconds later the gargoyles outline became hazy and then he disappeared all together. Cloaked by magical invisibility Grummok crept silently to the front of the inn. The main door of the Blighted Behir stood open and a murky swath of light fell out into the street a single beacon of brightness in the otherwise lightless city. Grummok slid up to the doorway and peered through, he saw what he had expected to see; Thagmot and his men fighting for their lives against the drunken fury of Azakai and his saber. The inn’s common room was a simple affair, box shaped with the ancient battered bar in the south end of the room and a number of rickety tables and chairs strewn haphazardly across the filthy slat wooden floor. The inn’s other patrons had arranged the tables and chairs to form a circle some thirty feet in diameter in the center of the inn. It was here in this makeshift arena that Thagmot and his men battled the drow weapon master. Drinks in hand the denizens of the Blighted Behir stood just beyond the raging battle casually conversing and placing bets on the outcome of the confrontation. Thagmot and his men were serious underdogs at 7 to 1. The battle could best be described as four men attempting to weather a hurricane with nothing but an umbrella and a prayer. One of the orcs was already down and bleeding while the other two flanked Thagmot as he frantically attempted to hold the drow elf at bay with his halberd. Azakai moved with almost godlike speed and agility, his silvery saber was a constantly moving blur and he drew blood at will. As Grummok moved closer the drow weapon master tumbled beneath a clumsy sweeping blow of Thagmot’s halberd and came up slashing at the orc to the right of the bugbear. The orc tried in vain to bring his shield up to deflect the cut but was far too slow and Azakai’s blade drew a crimson line across his face, slicing the orc’s nose and both his lips neatly in half. The maimed orc dropped his weapon and shield to clutch at the ruins of his face leaving himself open for Azakai’s next slash, a vicious rising cut that opened the orc up from groin to sternum. Even as the orc slumped to the floor the weapon master was whirling, bringing his blade to bear on Thagmot. The remaining orc wanted no part of the deadly drow elf and abandoned Thagmot to his fate, dropping his weapon and fleeing through the crowd of spectators and out the main door. Grummok had to admire Thagmot just then for the bugbear stood his ground knowing he was outclassed in every way. Azakai came on like an avalanche, his saber seeming to strike at Thagmot from every possible direction ringing off the bugbears halberd or cutting into his flesh when he missed a parry. Thagmot was weakening quickly under the onslaught and would not last much longer; fortunately he had given Grummok the time he needed to make his move.As the battle raged Grummok had crept up silent and invisible to the edge of the makeshift ring where the combat was taking place. His keen assassin’s eyes had never left Azakai, hungrily tracing his every movement, noting every minute detail in his stride, his fighting style even the way his armor hung on his body. The weapon master had flung his cloak off before the melee had begun and wore only his fine suit of drow chainmail; he carried a small Mithral buckler in his left hand while his right cradled his deadly saber. Grummok knew that drow chainmail, especially of the quality worn by Azakai, could turn even the most determined blade, but this fact would not come into play for the weapon master’s judgment had been dulled by drink and his helm lay forgotten on the floor. Silent as the void Grummok drew his fiendish fleshgrinding dagger from its sheath and moved into position completely unnoticed by the raging weapon master.Thagmot was tiring quickly but he summoned what was left of his strength and brought his halberd over his head in a massive overhand blow that surely would have sheared Azakai in half had it landed. With what seemed an almost casual grace the weapon master cleanly sidestepped Thagmot’s powerful strike, letting the halberd hammer down into the floorboards to become lodged in the splintered wood. Off balance and vulnerable Thagmot could do nothing but watch as Azakai slid past his guard to deliver the killing blow. As Azakai stepped up to the doomed bugbear to finish him he witnessed Thagmot’s eyes suddenly grow wide with surprise, not from his impending death but from the sudden appearance of something over Azakai’s left shoulder. Alarm screaming through his drink numbed mind the weapon master whirled about, Thagmot completely forgotten, to stare into the horrendous visage of Grummok. Grummok gave the weapon master no time to react and simply stepped forward and stabbed the drow cleanly through his red rimmed left eye, killing him almost instantly. Azakai’s body convulsed and his saber and buckler clattered to the ground. Grummok caught the weapon master before his body hit the floor and then with nary a glance at the stunned crowd of onlookers threw the corpse over his shoulder and sauntered out of the Blighted Behir. A hundred yards from the inn Grummok heard the crowd come out of its stupor as the inn’s patrons unleashed their fury for being cheated out of their bets. Grummok figured Thagmot would likely bear the brunt of that hostility, but no matter, he had served his purpose. Pleased with himself and at the fulfillment of another contract, Grummok took to the air with his prize and winged off towards the guild house to collect his well-earned reward.</blockquote>

Verification