King Maker's Mask

[doc awesome]

edited for grammar

The clouds came in thick that day the kings woods, the trees still held white snow in their branches. Clouds painted the world under them gray. Spring had started and now the animals had come out of hiding to feast.
The deer had been barley noticeable. It was not vary big, two points at the most from where Quintyn was standing. Standing among the trees it lowered its head to gnaw at some dead grass.
Normally he would not dare hunt in the king’s woods, but it was the first deer he had seen in weeks. Quintyn drew the arrow back just behind his eye. A young man, his hair cut down the skin leaving only a long thick black beard on his chin. Taking aim for just a moment he let the arrow fly. The deer leapt and darted for a shot wile before disappearing behind some bushes.

He walked forward and kneeled down to pick up the arrow off the ground. Red now, but still good he tucked it back into his quiver. Standing back up he fallow the trail of red to the bushes.
A Halfling sat on the deer’s corpse a dagger in his small hand. Dressed in rich silks under a vest of leather, the halfling smiled up at him form under a brown mop of hair.
“Greetings!” he spoke in a sunny voice.
“Good afternoon,” Quintyn replied curtly, pulling back on his dark green cloak for his dagger only to find it stuck in its sheath. A magic user, he thought, ‘is he one of the king’s men?’ The punishment for poaching the king’s game was the lost of both middle fingers.
“Oh I would not do that young lad... You see, you are quite expendable and I, frankly, am quite powerful.” The halfing’s tone darkened now.
“Are you one of the king’s wizards?” the poacher asked carefully.
“Oh gods no lad, what I am here for is to offer you some gold. In exchange for some work of course.”
The promise of gold sounded to good to pass by but Quityn was always acted with caution, “what kind of work?”
The halfling cuffed his hands together, “ a simple dungeonering nothing to hard, and you wont be working alone my friend. Dangerous of course but you will be paid for the risk, and for the item in question.”
“The item?”
“Lets say its something valuable enough that I’ll pay near any price for it” he tossed a sack at Quityn’s feet, “to keep you quite until tomorrow at noon in the Dragon‘s Knee Tavern.”
Quintyn lifted the bag and counted the gold but gave up when he saw just how much was in it. Looking back up he saw that the halfling was gone. ‘Odd fellow, but a rich one.’ Dragon’s Knee... He will have to remember that...

 

[shilsen]

A couple of suggestions: Paragraphs or breaks betwen some of the lines would make this much easier to read. The grammar/mechanics also need a huge amount of work.

 

[doc awesome]

I see spaces between my posts, I just edited it best I can for the moment (my grammar was never vary good though), but if you still can see the spaces Ill take another go at it.

 

[shilsen]

I see spaces between my posts, I just edited it best I can for the moment (my grammar was never vary good though), but if you still can see the spaces Ill take another go at it.

There are some spaces, but I meant something like this (grammar changes gratis ):

The clouds came in thick that day over the King's Woods. The trees still held white snow in their branches. Clouds painted the world under them gray. Spring had started and now the animals had come out of hiding to feast.

The deer had been barely noticeable. It was not very big; two points at the most, from where Quintyn was standing. Standing among the trees, it lowered its head to nibble at some dead grass.

Normally he would not dare hunt in the King’s Woods, but it was the first deer he had seen in weeks. Quintyn drew the arrow back just behind his eye. A young man, his hair was cut down to the skin, leaving only a long thick black beard on his chin. Taking aim for just a moment, he let the arrow fly. The deer leapt and darted for a short while before disappearing behind some bushes.

He walked forward and kneeled down to pick up the arrow off the ground. Red now, but still good. He tucked it back into his quiver. Standing back up, he followed the trail of red to the bushes.

A halfling sat on the deer’s corpse, a dagger in his small hand. Dressed in rich silks under a vest of leather, the halfling smiled up at him from under a brown mop of hair.

“Greetings!” he said in a sunny voice.

“Good afternoon,” Quintyn replied curtly, pulling back on his dark green cloak to reach for his dagger, only to find it stuck in its sheath. 'A magic user,' he thought, 'Is he one of the King’s men?' The punishment for poaching the King’s game was the loss of both middle fingers.

“Oh, I would not do that, young lad. You see, you are quite expendable and I, frankly, am quite powerful.” The halfing’s tone darkened now.

 

[doc awesome]

(ah i was useing word so I did not catch that, I will have the next chapter soon chapter two makes more since with it posted)


Morga crossed her fingers under her chin, sitting down behind her wooden desk she watched Cothy as he stammered out his report. The pasty chinless human always got this way in front of the half orc, it was no wonder that the city‘s criminals are having a field day, and that entire affair with that Hobgoblin rebel. What made her sick about this man was that despite not having a chin his neck jiggled, where a chin would have been as he spoke.

“A-a poacher was said to h-have been seen in the forest.” He struggled out.
“A forest out of the city,” she replied with heavy sigh.
“y-yes”
“In a forest that is out of my control, let the rangers handle it. Now give me something relevant.” She demanded, her words almost knocking Cothy on his arse.
“I umm....” he started.

“Enough, I have heard enough,” shaking her head she stood and walked out. The gray stone of the guard tower made her ill, as a guard sergeant she had found herself rather tied up at the moment, just now the rebel, Beoron had been caught and set to be judged. Morga never even saw him, she was put in charge of the smallest district of Kadara. Pushing the wooden door aside as she stepped out for some light that came not from a torch her eyes where only met with more grey, the cloudy kind.

Its going to rain’ she thought miserably, pulling her hood up over her dark hair. As a half orc she was used to the people gawking at her pail green skin and flat face, and of course they did. She meant to go home and sleep off the day, not like anything was going to happen now, but instead she found herself walking to the tavern.

This district was much more dangerous even now she could see a two would be escapees fleeing from the guards, between an ally way. Their hands and heads still strapped into the stocks as they fled together, a big one and a smaller one almost like an elf. They ran and she can see a chain tying both of them together with the smaller one seeming to have trouble keeping up.
She let them pass, it was not her area not her problem. The guards would make a good story she figured.

Morga entered The Dragon’s Knee, already the sour smell of vomit and urine filled her nostrils, hardly anyone here today. Just a few adventurers sitting isolated around the tavern keeping to themselves, she was half tempted to join one of them, but instead she sat at the bar.
“’Nouther rough day huh?” That was not the bartender’s voice. She looked up to see a halfling sitting on his own stool on other side of the bar counter. Long brown hair covered his ears, though it was unkempt his clothing was fine leather and red silks.
“Where’s Bardily?” she asked for the normal bartender.
“Sick,” he replied, “I am filling for him today. If I may... Do you happen to be Morga?”
She nodded her head and ordered a pint. The halfling jumped off his stole and disappeared behind the counter. “I have a note for you, left by some elf chap, wanted me to give it to you.”

The bartender crawled back up onto his stool with one hands, the other balancing a mug of golden ale. He placed it on the counter and reached into his pocket and tossed her a peace of paper next to it. “I did not read it, so no need to worry about that. He also left you this,” he handed her a small leather sack about the size of her fist.

She opened it; gold, lots of it, it was a struggle to keep her surprise off her face. Closing the bag back up she placed it in her pocket and read the note: Morga, I have come to understand that you may not see your life as fulfilling as you might have wished, if I am right than I would also suggest that you take my offer to help me find a certain object, more information will be handed out when you meet me here at noon tomorrow.

Odd, she did not know any of the elves in Kadara, she read the note again to make sure, “an elf you say?”
“Yes, strange fellow, did not speak much.” the halfing said idly cleaning the next empty mug.
Nothing about this sounded right to Morga, but the promises sounded to tempting and it was not like she it would cost her anything to see. Maybe this might be her chance to get out of this dead end city. Just maybe....

 

[doc awesome]

The Thief and the Would-Be King
Varson rubbed the pain out of his temples, or at least tried. He sat in a horse drawn carriage with a guard standing at the door watching them closely. His hands here in their stocks up to either side of his head, beside him was the great rebel hobgoblin, Beoron. He to was strapped into his stocks unable to move. Varson was picked up the guards as the escorted the beast to the prison. He was trying to brake into a guard tower where it was said that they had kept many powerful items they have confiscated in the past year. He would have gotten away with it but they opened the gates as he was sneaking back out and in a matter of moments they where all over him.

Bearon was dead, dead the moment Prince Diogen saw through his trick. He let his leutent take control of his army wile him and a smaller group of elite shoulders would sneak and in take the city at night fall wile the people slept and the army was away. Next to him sat some half elf idiot who tried the same thing, only with out all that planning, it was only impressive because he made it inside that tower.

Varson peeked out from the other side of Bearon to look over at the guard clutching a sword with spear strapped to his back. Chain mail worn under a blue jerkin with a silver hawk on the chest. The guard barley even gave him a glance. Taking the hint the half breed leaned back.

The Hobgoblin had not been much for talk. Just sitting, brooding Varson was shocked to see him so relaxed, his death will be met this day at the end of a headsmen’s axe, a truth never spoken. Ugly as he was Bearon was smart, it was not every other fool that can worry the kings army. He still had on his tabard, white sword on red.
A hard bump on the road shook them up, than another. A blinding flash ripped through the carriage sending shards of wood and metal bouncing off the walls.

Bearon opened his eyes the blue sky above was spinning. Saw dust and broken up metal surrounded him. He blinked away the pain and sat up the world around him gave a ear piercing ring. To his left was the broken bloody remains of the horses that pull them.
‘I am free’ he realized as he pulled himself back to his feet, his stocks still on him as he started to stumble away only to be snagged and pulled back to the ground by a chain, late did he remember the half elf.

The harsh tug woke Varson his eyes where closed only to open to a blinding white fading back to the grey sky. He could see Bearon pull on the chain dragging him along. He forced himself through the pain to his feet, around him was the bloodyed corpes of the guards where where out side of the carage. ‘How did we survive that?’
Another tug brought him back
“Come on!” Bearon barked at him.
Varson found himself forced to run through the alleyways along with the rebel king. The cobble stones bashing his feet with every step as he huffed and puffed trying to keep along with the hobgoblin.

The half elf was saying something but Bearon could not hear him over the ringing in his head. This ally and that he pulled on his stocks yanking the chain dragging his extra walking baggage behind him. The ringing stopped and he could hear the half breed shouting.
“Was that one of yours? Hello? What of your allies?” His words broken by gasps of air trying to keep up. Bearon had no idea what had happened he just wanted to get out of there. “Go left, I have a hide out.”

Varson barked directions from behind the hobgoblin as he pulled them both down the alleyways. Another turn and a dark figure stepped out in front of them. Shadow covered all but the ivory mask with an angular shape where the mouth would be was turned up into a frown.

“Hmmm latter than I thought...” the mask only held a dead calm as Bearon stopped in his tracks Varson unable to stop smacked into the back of him. “You are lucky, the guards lost you two, our men saw to that,” the voice was hardly a whisper. “You can repay us, both of you, and evan make a good amount of gold in doing so.”
“Who are you?” Bearon demanded.

Mask only tossed two small leather bags at their feet. “Tomorrow, at noon meet us in the Dragon’s Knee Tavern. The gold is for your silence until than. And do try not to get caught.” The body around the mask slowly faded into the shadow around it until it seemed like the mask floated in mid air before the darkness swallowed the white mask.