Followers of Shar

[Feanor527]

A bald black man made his way from the goblin infested hills near the Exigo Mining camp to the City Watch headquarters. He was badly beaten and barely alive.

He made the following report:

"My name is Saldo Boriams. While in the employ of Exigo tracking down a reportedly large goblin I was approached by three men dressed in black armor. Two of them claimed that they were brothers. All three of them had similar facial features and nearly identical close cut black beards. One was bald.

"They were dressed in black armor. One was a priest of Shar judging from the magic he wielded. One was likely a rogue who wielded two daggers. The other sported a longsword and shield.

"As we crept through the goblin's caverns they donned black masks and turned on me in an attempt to make a sacrifice of me to Shar. I put up what resistance I could but in the end it was a stranger in the caverns that was my salvation. That man didn't give his name.

"The men that are admitted followers of Shar are named Felix, Garret and Vandus. They did not supply me their surnames."

[Peridan]

Within the shadows, an elf listens closely. His yellow eyes flicker in interest, and he lowers his hat as he considers the possibility of followers of Shar within the valley.

A slight chuckle, and then he was gone.

[thaelis]

The first thing that registers is the cold stone floor pressed against his cheek. Then comes the pain. He tries to focus, gritting his teeth, and a stab of white hot pain flashes across his consciousness like an arrow. His jaw must be broken. This registers in some deep recess of his hazy mind, but right now, it doesn’t matter. He struggles to open his eyes, rolling flaccidly onto his side in an attempt to gain a clear view. Another stab of pain silently proclaims broken ribs, and this time a small gasp of pain escapes his lips.

He opens his eyes to darkness’ cool embrace, and cannot help but laugh inwardly. “Did they truly believe I would give in to despair and die down here, in my own demesne? In the wellspring of my power?” he thinks, with the mental equivalent of a sneer. Biting back pain, he gasps out the words of a healing incantation, every whispered word a promise of retribution to come, and…nothing. A sudden fear clenches his chest, and he is forced to overcome the overwhelming urge to panic. Desperately, he tries once more, reaching out for the dark font that has ever been his to command. No longer.

“Why?” the murmured word seems to echo in the darkness, a thousand sibilant whispers laughing back at him. Only then does he notice the absence of the leather cord about his neck, and the black disk which should hang from it. Only then does he feel the burnt, tender flesh between his shoulder blades, marking him forevermore. Someone stirs in the darkness, but he does not hear. For the first time in his life, Vandis Selvanus truly knows despair.

[GodBeastX]

The city watchman looks at the man with mild annoyance, despite the bruises.

"Let me get this straight... you were out in gob country which we tell everyone is dangerous... Ya sees three blokes in black that you can't identify other than 'They was in black'... and you come here spoutin' this expecting what?"

The watchman sighs as he rubs his nose bridge before continuing.

"Ya want we should arrest half of the Sundered who are wearin' black for talkin' to gobs and beatin' men who could have flipped 'em off for all I know?"

"Look son. I got streets to keep safe for ladies an' children. I got no men to shove off into a pack of gobs because you got roughed around a bit."