Tweet
Luskan's streets were as busy as ever that day, and the weather was surprisingly good for the time of year. Summer was drawing to a close and the first hints of winter had been in the air, but on this twilight eve the air was warm and amiable - lending to a more genial atmosphere than usual for the city that had gained a reputation as a town of corruption, extortion, and greed.
However, Darius Chimera - a veteran "tradesman" of Luskan - paid no heed to the exquisite weather or the lightly crimson sky where the sun was setting off in the distance. He dashed through the alleyways and streets, dodging the calls of merchants and avoiding the paths that he'd learned long ago would lead him to empty pockets. He turned down one alleyway and then took another that branched off of that one, then entered the busy street on the other side of the alleyway.
Darius was being followed.
He kept his head and continued running along a path he was making in his mind to avoid running into a dead end amidst the vast network and congestion of Luskan's back alleys. He turned right around a corner and pressed himself against the wall of the building on the right, drawing his dagger with a grim expression on his face. It was only a matter of moments before he heard the footsteps.
He swallowed hard and gripped the small blade tightly, sweat beading on his brow. It was only through sheer will - and the knowledge that to make a sound would be his death - that Darius was able to keep his breath from coming in labored gasps.
The footsteps grew louder.
His stalker turned the corner, and Darius pressed himself even more against the wall, slipping into the lengthening shadow of a stack of crates and crouching down. Darius didn't make a sound and barely even breathed as he gauged the man who'd been following him.
He was of a large build - slightly bigger than Darius himself - with toned muscles that showed clearly for his bare arms. The man was wearing studded leather armor that had been specially crafted and stained black - an eye held in the clutches of a hand painted upon the chest in white.
Darius swallowed hard and nearly gave himself away when he saw that symbol. It was the marking that the members of the Lightless wore. They were a minor guild that worked among many others in the underground of Luskan doing petty things - minor extortion, bribery, typical thugging. They were nothing compared to the larger guilds that operated out of Luskan, but to Darius they were the last people he wanted to see.
The man stood there at the entrance to the alley for a long while, peering around. Slowly he stalked forward, approaching where Darius was hidden, and the veteran rogue's breathing stopped completely as he made himself even more a part of the wall.
Darius was fairly proficient in combat, having lived among the ruffians, muggers, thieves, and murderers of Luskan's lower class for all his life. However, everyone knew that in Luskan the last thing you wanted to do was kill a man associated with a guild. To do so would be the same as signing your own warrant for death.
The stalker continued right by Darius and walked slowly down the alley, his eyes on the street at the other end and his hand on the hilt of a longsword sheathed at his hip. He'd taken three steps past the stack of crates when a shadow dropped from the roof of the building on his right. The man spun to face his attacker with a roar as his longsword flashed from its sheathe, but he was too slow.
His roar died in his throat as the assassin drove a dagger into his lungs.
Darius gasped in shock at the brutal efficiency with which the man had been dealt, and - fearing that he may be the hired killer's next target - he leapt to his feet, fleeing as fast as he could back the way he'd come. The assassin simply grinned and cleaned his dagger as he took note of Darius' features.
* * * * *
"Momma!" Where's Papa?" little Trislan begged Catrina as she finished locking the door of the small hovel that served as a house for herself, her husband, and their little son as well as a tailor's shop of fair repute.
Growing up in Luskan she'd learned that you always lock your doors after dark, and especially so if you own a shop.
She smiled down at her young son - who'd seen but his fourth full summer less than a tenday ago - and touseled his hair as she moved past him to a workbench her husband Darius had made for her long ago. On the bench sat a beautiful dress - a commission for alterations from one of the nobles - and one that promised a good deal of coin as soon as it was finished.
As she sat and took up her needle and thread she called softly to Trislan, "Come, my little adventurer. Come and sit with me until your father gets back. He shouldn't be too much longer."
Trislan did as he was told and sat on the floor by his mother while she worked at the dress and hummed. His eyelids began to get heavy after a while and with the help of Catrina's melodic voice he was soon peacefully dreaming of grand adventures that his father had told him so often. He enjoyed visions of knights fighting dragons and saving damsels; of heroes saving towns and villages from terrible monsters; and even of one day being one of those heroes.
The moon waxed and waned, and the night wore on into early dawn and Darius had not returned. Catrina carried her little son to bed just before the sun rose, and then went back to her bench. However, she couldn't even hold the needle for the shaking of her hands. Fears welled within her as thoughts of what could be keeping her husband entered her mind.
Just as exhaustion had nearly claimed her and her head was nodding close to the table, Catrina heard the tumblers of the lock click and then heard the door open and close.
She was immediately awake and turned to greet her husband, but her smile and greeting both died as soon as they'd begun when she saw the man who'd entered her shop using her husband's key.
However, Darius Chimera - a veteran "tradesman" of Luskan - paid no heed to the exquisite weather or the lightly crimson sky where the sun was setting off in the distance. He dashed through the alleyways and streets, dodging the calls of merchants and avoiding the paths that he'd learned long ago would lead him to empty pockets. He turned down one alleyway and then took another that branched off of that one, then entered the busy street on the other side of the alleyway.
Darius was being followed.
He kept his head and continued running along a path he was making in his mind to avoid running into a dead end amidst the vast network and congestion of Luskan's back alleys. He turned right around a corner and pressed himself against the wall of the building on the right, drawing his dagger with a grim expression on his face. It was only a matter of moments before he heard the footsteps.
He swallowed hard and gripped the small blade tightly, sweat beading on his brow. It was only through sheer will - and the knowledge that to make a sound would be his death - that Darius was able to keep his breath from coming in labored gasps.
The footsteps grew louder.
His stalker turned the corner, and Darius pressed himself even more against the wall, slipping into the lengthening shadow of a stack of crates and crouching down. Darius didn't make a sound and barely even breathed as he gauged the man who'd been following him.
He was of a large build - slightly bigger than Darius himself - with toned muscles that showed clearly for his bare arms. The man was wearing studded leather armor that had been specially crafted and stained black - an eye held in the clutches of a hand painted upon the chest in white.
Darius swallowed hard and nearly gave himself away when he saw that symbol. It was the marking that the members of the Lightless wore. They were a minor guild that worked among many others in the underground of Luskan doing petty things - minor extortion, bribery, typical thugging. They were nothing compared to the larger guilds that operated out of Luskan, but to Darius they were the last people he wanted to see.
The man stood there at the entrance to the alley for a long while, peering around. Slowly he stalked forward, approaching where Darius was hidden, and the veteran rogue's breathing stopped completely as he made himself even more a part of the wall.
Darius was fairly proficient in combat, having lived among the ruffians, muggers, thieves, and murderers of Luskan's lower class for all his life. However, everyone knew that in Luskan the last thing you wanted to do was kill a man associated with a guild. To do so would be the same as signing your own warrant for death.
The stalker continued right by Darius and walked slowly down the alley, his eyes on the street at the other end and his hand on the hilt of a longsword sheathed at his hip. He'd taken three steps past the stack of crates when a shadow dropped from the roof of the building on his right. The man spun to face his attacker with a roar as his longsword flashed from its sheathe, but he was too slow.
His roar died in his throat as the assassin drove a dagger into his lungs.
Darius gasped in shock at the brutal efficiency with which the man had been dealt, and - fearing that he may be the hired killer's next target - he leapt to his feet, fleeing as fast as he could back the way he'd come. The assassin simply grinned and cleaned his dagger as he took note of Darius' features.
* * * * *
"Momma!" Where's Papa?" little Trislan begged Catrina as she finished locking the door of the small hovel that served as a house for herself, her husband, and their little son as well as a tailor's shop of fair repute.
Growing up in Luskan she'd learned that you always lock your doors after dark, and especially so if you own a shop.
She smiled down at her young son - who'd seen but his fourth full summer less than a tenday ago - and touseled his hair as she moved past him to a workbench her husband Darius had made for her long ago. On the bench sat a beautiful dress - a commission for alterations from one of the nobles - and one that promised a good deal of coin as soon as it was finished.
As she sat and took up her needle and thread she called softly to Trislan, "Come, my little adventurer. Come and sit with me until your father gets back. He shouldn't be too much longer."
Trislan did as he was told and sat on the floor by his mother while she worked at the dress and hummed. His eyelids began to get heavy after a while and with the help of Catrina's melodic voice he was soon peacefully dreaming of grand adventures that his father had told him so often. He enjoyed visions of knights fighting dragons and saving damsels; of heroes saving towns and villages from terrible monsters; and even of one day being one of those heroes.
The moon waxed and waned, and the night wore on into early dawn and Darius had not returned. Catrina carried her little son to bed just before the sun rose, and then went back to her bench. However, she couldn't even hold the needle for the shaking of her hands. Fears welled within her as thoughts of what could be keeping her husband entered her mind.
Just as exhaustion had nearly claimed her and her head was nodding close to the table, Catrina heard the tumblers of the lock click and then heard the door open and close.
She was immediately awake and turned to greet her husband, but her smile and greeting both died as soon as they'd begun when she saw the man who'd entered her shop using her husband's key.