Once back at the meadhall, Shaddar releases his thralls to their sleep. He can’t rest, however. His mind is filled with what he learned from the hesitant drow elders.
The deep city that they mentioned could very well be the settlement mentioned on his dead master’s list. He resolves to take an expedition two hours to the south and search for the landmark mentioned in the second task: The Well.
“I need to sift fact from legend and perhaps I will find the answers I seek if I follow the path originally planned by Felinxtrath,” he thinks.
Even as he thinks this, he feels them: again a group of stealthy-minded being creep towards the meadhall. Shaddar sighs: his fishing for trouble has yielded many insights, but it seems the work will never be done.
“Ah, well. Such is the life of a shadowy mastermind.”
He spends a few moments to examine and identify his late-night guests. Shaddar’s surprise is near total as he realizes that this is a mixed racial group. This is a major shift from all societal norms he has observed thus far. There are drow, hobgoblins, and unless he is very much mistaken, one of them is a troll. His thoughts are filled with the hopes of bloodletting and a determination not to lose control of his appetites.
“A true monster at last!” Shaddar thinks happily, “I don’t know who these folks represent, but I am excited to make their acquaintance nonetheless!” He moves downstairs to greet these latest visitors with haste, his tentacles twitching with excitement. Unlike the clumsy approach of the hobgoblin thugs, this band moves with long-practiced stealth and skill. Could it be? That there are some allies in this world that will not require remedial life-skills training? What a relief that would be!
Shaddar summons his weary thralls to meet him in the main room of the meadhall posthaste! He sends Toothsnatcher to the third floor first to rouse and ready the hobgoblin militia. If this force bearing down on his lair is hostile, it will be good to give the growing warriors a taste of combat experience.
Cutt is the first to arrive. “What is it, master?” he asks.
“A force of skilled beings approach, including a troll,” Shaddar murmurs. He seats himself at the central table and casually reclines with one arm cast carelessly over the back of the chair.
“A troll?” Cutt’s ears perk up, “I’ll be right back! I left some acid simmering upstairs that might come in handy!” He scampers off.
When all of his minions are in the main room, Shaddar directs them to take the places he wishes by indicating with both fingers and tentacles. His forces move swiftly, if not quietly. Shaddar only notes this subconsciously – all of his attention is on the mind and thoughts of the leader of this group. A drow woman, with thoughts that are very much like what a normal dark elf matron from his world would have.
“These worthless males make more noise than a flatulent pig,” she thinks angrily, “I’ll not be surprised if the whole meadhall is wide awake and waiting for us! Hurmph. From my thoughts to the Mistress’ ears – I can hear them moving about inside! Change of plans then. And a note to be made: the Boss and his followers are not without skills themselves. Not sheep then.”
Her skills are even sharper than those she leads. Quite an impressive specimen, judging by her thoughts. Shaddar would not mind having her as his slave.
Shaddar sees from her thoughts that she must be signaling her forces to hide and remain quiet. She then moves right up next to the front door and thinks, “Ready for us, are you? Well, let’s change the game a bit, shall we?”
She raps on the door with a heavy series of knocks.
Shaddar is delighted. At last! A mind worthy of conversation!
“Come in!” he calls.
The door opens and the drow woman steps inside. She takes in the forces that are waiting to receive her and her nostrils flare slightly. She carefully shuts the door behind her and saunters over to the table Shaddar is seated at. Her leather armor is well cared for, but with obvious signs of being patched due to combat damage. He weapons are all wrapped in black leather as well, making her difficult to see in the shadows. After her initial scan of the room’s occupants, she has her eyes locked with Shaddar’s. With a flounce, she drapes herself into the chair across from him. Matching his body language with an equal measure of outward (and inward, Shaddar notes) confidence and relaxation as Shaddar is displaying.
“Well,” she says in a husky voice, “Here we are.”
“Here who is?” Shaddar asks.
She points a manicured finger in Shaddar’s direction. “You,” she begins, and then sweeps her hand to compass the room, “all of you – are very successful. Very successful… rogue villains. I applaud you.” She claps softly and daintily with smirk on her face.
Shaddar leans forward slightly and says, “Success is measured by whether you met your goals or not. I haven’t meet mine yet, so your label is incorrect. I would not apply that term to the results of our efforts – not yet.”
She takes a deep breath and releases it carelessly. “Well! There is a method in this city (the whole Realm, really) that when rogues become successful, by our definition, then they are allowed to graduate. They are allowed to move onward to a new arena more suited for their growing skills. They are invited to join with the Mist of Darkness…”
Shaddar’s tentacles writhe with interest. “And that’s why you have brought a troll? To invite me to join you?” he says while drumming the claws of one hand on the tabletop.
“Sometimes stern methods are required to convince potential recruits that the Mist of Darkness has the strength and will to enforce their law on those who are new to it,” she says carelessly. Her thoughts are filled with boredom, “Must I explain the same dull questions from every clue-lack who has snapped, gone rogue, and evaded capture for three days? If our lifestyle did not require it, I’d much rather just kill all of them and dump their wormy bodies into a pit latrine. But rogue villains left unchecked just rile all the sheep up and make it harder to properly steal from them.”
“Tell me about what this Mist of Darkness can offer me,” Shaddar prompts.
“It’s simple really. You have discovered the true path of villainy – not the watered down carnival show put on by the Guild! The Mist offers a way to continue down the path you now walk, but without disturbing any of the systems that make it so easy to prey upon the flock. We hide. We steal. We may even murder. But we do it in such a way that no one is the wiser. The sheep are happy and feel safe. We get what we want. And everyone is happy.”
Shaddar sits up straight and tilts his head towards her, “So you want me to join… you?”
“Well, indeed.”
“I would serve under someone in your organization?” Shaddar says with the distaste obvious in his voice.
“With have regulations, apprenticeships, lessons and new skills which you must master. It is for the benefit and good of all who rest within the Mist of Darkness. Too many changes to the normal way of things – too many waves on the surface of the water only disturbs the tranquil pools that all of our little goldfish swim in. Then all of them swim away from the splashes and it’s all so much more difficult to do our business. All rogue villains must join with the Mist of Darkness.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Shaddar says with a dismissive sniff.
“Too much change,” she says in a warning, musical lilt. She raises one eyebrow and smiles. “You may not know this, but my people do: too much change can bring about the end of the world.”
“Again the legends!” Shaddar thinks, “This dark elf is also a believer in the Elder Evil prophecies. I wonder if her whole organization does as well?”
She sits up straight and casually examines the back on one hand, her fingernails close together. “If you will not join the Mist of Darkness and learn to work within a framework that does not upset the delicate balance of this world, we can not risk the destruction of the entire Realm.” Her eyes snap up to meet his own and her voice hardens, “We will destroy you and make it seem like you never lived.” Her sincerity is diamond hard in her tone and in her thoughts and beliefs.
“So much talk of change and the end of the world,” Shaddar thinks, “I wonder if too much alteration will unsettle this pocket dimension and cause the bubble to collapse? But that theory is contradicted by the legends themselves – the world changed and the Elder Evils were cast down, and here we are. So why do they still believe in this doomsday scenario? But just in case there is any truth to this legend I must find an easy way to escape from this demi-plane – should the need arise.”
The dark elf softens her tone and message, “Besides, you don’t have to continue to live with these mindless sheep. The Mist of Darkness has incredible cities – underground. Highways and wildernesses that connect them. A dark culture and the promise of satisfaction to any and all of the dark desires you may harbor within your rogue breast.” She laughs – a musical and pleasant sound. “Big City is a fine place to visit, but why would you want to live here? The Lords never go underground, so we are quite safe. The Mist of Darkness can offer you a entire new world! Why throw that kind of an offer away?”
“Can I get a glimpse of such places, before I commit?” Shaddar asks as if he is seriously considering her offer. His thoughts are taking a different tack: “Oh, dear. I will need to take these underground cities over as well, it seems. Will my labors ever end?”
She answers, “Of course I can arrange for such a visit.” The drow’s thoughts are most interesting, “This one is really quite organized and smart. Good. We could use more of that in the war.”
“Ah? So the Mist of Darkness is fighting a war of their own, are they? Who with, I wonder? Yet another player in the politics of this strange land that I am unaware of. How irritating,” Shaddar thinks. He leans back in his chair and asks, “And if I refuse?”
She sighs and looks sad before saying, “We can not allow rogue villains who are as effective as you to continue to muddy the pool. Your muggings and slanders are beyond what are allowed here. You now have but three options: join us, throw yourself on the mercy of the Lords' justice, or die.”
Shaddar notes that she does not mention murders and is pleased to see that the organization that she is trying so hard to portray of near-omniscient is hardly that. “What will she and her group think when they learn of the true magnitude of disturbance I have caused in their tranquil pool? Ha!” he thinks with glee.
“I’ll need to think about this,” Shaddar says with mock seriousness.
“I quite understand,” the woman oozes kindly. She stands with sudden speed. “But know this: you must cease your roguish activities at once. Come to the cities of the Mist of Darkness and you can do as you please, but here? No. Here you must follow the proper order – that of the Guild or eventually of the Mist of Darkness. And even then, there are rules that not even we dare to break.” Her continuing thought is most interesting: “Even the UnderKing knows as much.”
She continues, “We have been watching your people and you have some very novel and interesting… schemes.” Again she smiles with a flash of a grin. “Very creative. You can continue to associate, but don’t terrify the poor sheep. That’s not nice. Do things the way everyone does things up here and think about our offer.”
Shaddar must discover more about these rules and the situation he is now in. If this dark elf representative is a typical sample of their membership then the Mist of Darkness may be the most powerful force he will have to contend with. These threats do not sit well with him at all, but he feels that he must know more about this enemy before he lashes out imprudently. He knows this. But how it grates him…
She walks back to the front door and opens it, before pausing at the opening and adding one more thing. “You have a ten-day to think it over. After that, we’ll make the choice for you.”
Chapter 1 < Chapter 35 Chapter 37 >
No comments:
Post a Comment