Mark of a Monster

[Saulus]

The chains weighed heavily on his hands. "Move you worthless filth." exclaimed the nearby guard.

He stepped out of his cell, the cold dank darkness giving way to the familiar smell of piss and rot. How many years had it been?

"Finally the big day eh? No more wasting food on your corpse." The guard pushes him along. He walks without haste, knowing what comes next. Slowly they make their way out of the dungeon, coming up to the surface. The sounds are different -- the hustle and bustle of a city, but the smell is little different... rotting flesh replaced with the smell of shit and sweat.

The light of the sun hurt his eyes, it had been so long since he had last seen it, he questioned if Lathander had cursed him out of spite.

A short walk with the sounds of wrangling chains led him to the noose. Today was just for him -- no other executions had been planned. As the guard had him kneel the other on duty put the noose around his neck.

The city councillor approached the stage to speak to the gathering crowd, ready for the spectacle of death to be presented.


"Dear citizens of Waterdeep,

Today we end the life of a murderer. One of the lowest order.

Quintus Marcellus, you stand convicted of the murder of Felicia Brokerdale, her husband Markus, and their children Henry and Sarah.

For the lives of Thomas Renning, and Peter Mann, honoured Purple Knights of Cormyr.

And finally Andrew Solin, Paladin of Tyr.

Do you have any final words before your wretched life ends?"


The crowd bawks at the charges, seemingly disgusted at the prospect of decent citizens being murdered.

A man in robes, hooded and dressed as a monk begins to approach the stage slowly, standing up front. For a brief moment Quintus spots him, before addressing the 'rabblings' of the councilor.

"My dear councilor I appreciate the efforts of the city to track my murders however your accuracy leaves much to be desired. There are far more than that, are you only counting those who reside in the South District?"

Quintus' smugness in his response only serves to infuriate the crowd and the councillor.

The councillor looks at him with disgust before turning to the guard. "End his wretched existence."

Quintus looks down at the ground, surprisingly somber.

The guard turns to pull the lever and release the door at Quintus' footing.

"AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

The crowd looks on in astonishment as the guard near the lever falls to the ground --the monk standing nearby. Two kamas are seen in each hand, the one in the left now covered in blood.

The guards writhes in pain -- his Achilles tendon sliced open. The remaining guard lunges at the monk in a desperate attempt, half-falling off the stage.

Commoners begin to flee from the ensuing conflict -- the monk and the guard becoming embroiled in a melee. The guard's shortsword clashes against the steel of the monk.

After the monk parries several blows from the guard he strikes downward with a powerful blow which is quickly blocked. With a grace and finesse unknown to most, he retorts by swinging his other kama behind the guard's neck before pulling back and slicing across.

The head of the remaining guard rolls on the uneven cobblestone, coming to a stop after resting against a cornerpost of the stage.

As the monk turns his attention back toward the stage he no longer sees Quintus on his knees with a noose around his neck -- but rather a much different picture.

Gargling for the breath of life, the councillor's eyes begin to bulge as Quintus' grip on the chains around his neck tightens. He then lowers his head so he can whisper into his ear while still applying pressure.

"You've made me a busy man councillor. Ten years I have forgone my sacred kill. Countless nights missed... I have so much catching up to do, but I appreciate your cooperation in dying for Bhaal."

As the words leave his lips he tightens his grip further, ending the councillor's life as blood seeps from his eyes.

He then leaps from the stage, the monk handing him a key from the pocket of the guard to remove his shackles.

The monk then speaks softly. "We must move quickly, more guards will come."

Quintus, elated at his fresh kill turns to the monk. "Where are we headed?"

"A new place of worship. Sundren."

[Saulus]

"Send the hounds east with second patrol, the rest of you head north. If they move South or West our checkpoint patrols will find them there."
Sweat began to drip from the militia commander's brow, not from physcial exhaustion, but from the immense pressure set unto him by his superiors -- he was tasked with capturing a confessed murder, now free and on the run. He knew his window of opportunity was short before Quintus and the Monk slipped through his grasp.

"I don't want any men hunting out there alone! Two or more per group... these aren't simple cut-throats. Both men are armed and to be considered extremely dangerous, they are to be killed on contact and their corpses delivered to the watch."

The strain is heard through the commander's voice as his troops depart in their respective groups. The commander looks on to the moon before saying a silent prayer to Helm.

***

"I can hear hounds in the distance Quintus, they are on to us." The monk says with little concern.

"Help me drag one of those bodies over here, and hand me your knife, I broke mine on that one's helmet." Quintus points to the body of a guard in the bushes, the tip of a knife protruding from an eye-slit.

***

The eastern patrol edges closer to a fork in the road, the men spread out as the two hounds howl. They slowly come upon a caravan with the bodies of several guards strewn across the ground.

The leader of the group speaks "These kills are fresh, check for any survivors... no one leave the perimeter."

One of the guards walks over to a body, covered in blood -- hands and face. "Uhhhhhh....."

The guard then shouts "We have one over here!"

The leader of the group walks over to look at the groaning man. "By the gods, what did they do to this man? Get him on the wagon, we can notify the next patrol they were headed in this direction."

"Will do sir." Still holding the leash of the hounds, the guard walks back down the same road they came and into the darkness.

The guards load the bloodied victim into the passenger seat of the caravan, one guard takes the reigns while the other three climb in the back. "The night drags on, we have little recourse but to head back to basecamp, I doubt they will make it far in this darkness."

A guard yawns as the reigns are snapped and with a snort the horses begin to pull the caravan along the road. "So who the hell is this guy anyway?" a guard says to the commander.

"We don't know much about his accomplice except an incident a few years back... Quintus was implicated in a string of grisly murders after some of his business partners went missing... His partners weren't the kind to be... taken by surprise."

"What, they had bodyguards?" The guard asks. The caravan hits a large bump on the road causing a large vibration and the sound of something scuffing the ground.

"More than that, one noblemen had a small contigent of Knight's who guarded his estate. Two of them we think died from poison, the rest were so brutally murdered it was difficult to identify the weapon, they were maimed beyond all recognition."

"And the other?" The guard's boredom becomes apparent.
"A monk in robes, involved in some kind of cult activity with Quintus, it's likely he had a hand in some of the other murders, due to the sophistication involved for one man."

The guard chuckles "He ain't too clever if he spent ten years in the pits..."

"Uhhhhhh..." the victim sitting in the passenger seat leans over to the driver.

"Hey... you're going to be okay buddy... all right?" The guard looks over for a moment at the victim.

"Too bad the same can't be said for you." The victim moves his hand up to his face, peeling back bloodied skin to reveal his own face -- Quintus himself. The guard looks at him with shock and awe before Quintus leans over, shiv in hand as he drills it into his neck.

Holding his neck with one hand, it becomes impaled as Quintus repeatedly drills the shiv into the same spot -- the guards in the back scramble pulling their swords from their scabbards... But it is too late.

The monk emerges from under the wagon like a shadow flickering across a room, he stands, kamas in hand behind Quintus and the rest. With their attention's turned he rests both kama's around the collarbone of the guards -- bypassing their armor and with a thrust he leans back and slices their necks clean across.

The ensuing chaos leaves a single guard in the wagon between Quintus and the Monk. A silent nod acknowledged between the two, the monk climbs into the driver seat and turns the wagon around. Quintus, shiv in bloodied hand sits in the back of the wagon staring the guard down.

"Let's talk about these checkpoints you have..."