Dr Midnight
Explorer
They found Dartan in the common room, sharpening his sword. He looked up at them as they entered.
“You tried to kill me,” Jamison said.
“What?”
“You tried to kill me. You hired an assassin to murder me.”
“No I didn’t. You’re crazy.” He paused, then shrugged his shoulders carelessly. “Yeah, I had you killed.”
Jamison shivered with fury, but to his credit, he kept his head level. “Why, Dartan? Why? I called you friend!”
Dartan gave him a cold glare. “I didn’t, the day you murdered mine. I told you I’d kill you if you stepped out of line. You did. When you banged that gong, I decided I’d had enough of Jamison Crow ruining the world.”
“Why hire an assassin, coward? Why not do it yourself?”
Dartan had stopped sharpening his blade, but didn’t put his sword back into its sheath. He stood up. “I could do it myself right now.”
Vek stepped into the space between the two and locked eyes with Dartan. “Well, Jamison,” the lich said. “We have the traitor here. He’s admitted to the crime. What would you have as his punishment?” The implication was clear. Shall I kill him?
Dartan sneered and flexed his fingers about the sword’s haft, readying his grip. The tension in the room bristled to a fever pitch and stayed there. The two well-matched warriors stared each other down. Who could win, if it came to a fight? Could Dartan manage to land a blow against Death’s chosen warrior? Could Vek succeed where countless enemies and monsters had failed?
“Enough!” Jamison yelled. “I will travel with you no longer.”
“Good,” Dartan said, never taking his eyes from Vek. “We don’t need you. Walk away before you get hurt… again.”
Vek spoke. “Is this your will, Jamison? You would cast him out and let him live?”
“Yes.”
“You’re leaving the group, not me,” Dartan said. “I’m the only undefeated member of the original Knights. This is MY group.
Vek laughed. “I believe the group are the ‘Knights of Spellforge Keep’. If any of us truly lead the group, it’s Kizzlorn Spellforge. You are just one of us. All FRIENDS are welcome at Spellforge Keep. I think that as you’ve deigned to have one of your own murdered, you’re perfectly fit to be cut from our ranks.”
Dartan looked at the others. Vek and Jamison were obviously against him. Orthos and Lem stood in the doorway, having heard most of the conversation from the next room. The look on Orthos’ face told that he was sickened by Dartan’s actions. Lem’s face was considerably harder to read, as he was cowled and took matters of life and death less seriously. It was still clear, though, that he sided with the majority.
“Fine,” Dartan said. His face reddened, and his bared teeth gleamed white like a hungry wolf’s. “I don’t need any of you. I’ll form my own group, and do what none of you could. Watch yourself, Jamison. If I have reason to kill you again, no black arts will save you, I promise.” He walked away angrily and wrapped his bedroll, then spat on the floor and left the inn.
The remainder of the party watched him leave through the upstairs window. Jamison especially seemed saddened by the events of the day. He’d thought he’d at least eventually win Dartan back over with his boyish charm and friendly manner, but it was not to be.
His last friend from Poddleton, Dartan the Godless, walked away from the Knights of Spellforge Keep as an enemy.
More to come...
“You tried to kill me,” Jamison said.
“What?”
“You tried to kill me. You hired an assassin to murder me.”
“No I didn’t. You’re crazy.” He paused, then shrugged his shoulders carelessly. “Yeah, I had you killed.”
Jamison shivered with fury, but to his credit, he kept his head level. “Why, Dartan? Why? I called you friend!”
Dartan gave him a cold glare. “I didn’t, the day you murdered mine. I told you I’d kill you if you stepped out of line. You did. When you banged that gong, I decided I’d had enough of Jamison Crow ruining the world.”
“Why hire an assassin, coward? Why not do it yourself?”
Dartan had stopped sharpening his blade, but didn’t put his sword back into its sheath. He stood up. “I could do it myself right now.”
Vek stepped into the space between the two and locked eyes with Dartan. “Well, Jamison,” the lich said. “We have the traitor here. He’s admitted to the crime. What would you have as his punishment?” The implication was clear. Shall I kill him?
Dartan sneered and flexed his fingers about the sword’s haft, readying his grip. The tension in the room bristled to a fever pitch and stayed there. The two well-matched warriors stared each other down. Who could win, if it came to a fight? Could Dartan manage to land a blow against Death’s chosen warrior? Could Vek succeed where countless enemies and monsters had failed?
“Enough!” Jamison yelled. “I will travel with you no longer.”
“Good,” Dartan said, never taking his eyes from Vek. “We don’t need you. Walk away before you get hurt… again.”
Vek spoke. “Is this your will, Jamison? You would cast him out and let him live?”
“Yes.”
“You’re leaving the group, not me,” Dartan said. “I’m the only undefeated member of the original Knights. This is MY group.
Vek laughed. “I believe the group are the ‘Knights of Spellforge Keep’. If any of us truly lead the group, it’s Kizzlorn Spellforge. You are just one of us. All FRIENDS are welcome at Spellforge Keep. I think that as you’ve deigned to have one of your own murdered, you’re perfectly fit to be cut from our ranks.”
Dartan looked at the others. Vek and Jamison were obviously against him. Orthos and Lem stood in the doorway, having heard most of the conversation from the next room. The look on Orthos’ face told that he was sickened by Dartan’s actions. Lem’s face was considerably harder to read, as he was cowled and took matters of life and death less seriously. It was still clear, though, that he sided with the majority.
“Fine,” Dartan said. His face reddened, and his bared teeth gleamed white like a hungry wolf’s. “I don’t need any of you. I’ll form my own group, and do what none of you could. Watch yourself, Jamison. If I have reason to kill you again, no black arts will save you, I promise.” He walked away angrily and wrapped his bedroll, then spat on the floor and left the inn.
The remainder of the party watched him leave through the upstairs window. Jamison especially seemed saddened by the events of the day. He’d thought he’d at least eventually win Dartan back over with his boyish charm and friendly manner, but it was not to be.
His last friend from Poddleton, Dartan the Godless, walked away from the Knights of Spellforge Keep as an enemy.
More to come...
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