An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.
Stories of Ansalon from the view of Penumbra.
A little gully dwarf runs by and says 'Wordwrap is at 65. You change? Off 65 80.'
The gully continues 'Eyes hurt? Turn Color OFF!! (regular story dates)
Astinus says 'Enter the main library here to view only the author list.'
Astinus gently places a worn tome on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Penumbra' scribed in unearthly white ink.
Author: Penumbra
Date Fri Nov 25 12:52:24 2005
Subject Shadowmaster Journal, Entry I
Well, they actually did it. I still can't believe it. My entire
life I
was marginalized, left behind, kicked, ridiculed and reviled
because I was
born slightly different and didn't resemble the ideal Elf.
Wasn't my fault I was born with one yellow eye and the other
black. If
anyone should have been punished it should have been that cow who
whelped me
or the bastard who violated her. But no, they're 'nobles' so it
can't be
there fault.
They made me pay, from the day I was born, and now to add insult
to injury
they've cast me out of Qualinost. Those self righteous, arrogant
bastards !
I'll be avenged on them and their naive little brats. All of
them will pay.
I'm getting ahead of myself a bit. I wanted to write this
journal to
explain myself, to let anyone who finds this know that I was not
born an
evil person but rather was made into one by those who professed
to 'love'
me.
If 'love' means allowing your only child to be beaten, tormented
and
ridiculed daily by other children and even adults for the better
part of a
century then I'll take a pass on that 'love'. I'd rather have
hate.
The only person who ever showed me any kindness or compassion was
old Master
Elyas. He found me one day curled up in a ball, sobbing and
bleeding
profusely after one of my daily beatings, this one at my father's
hands.
He took me in, healed and fed me. I was still very young then,
maybe 22 I
think, and had never known any kindness. Until then I had
thought that
beating children was normal and everyone did it.
It was old Elyas who opened my eyes to what was happening. He
had heard of
the 'odd' child and his eyes but until then we had never met. He
took in a
total stranger, one reviled by his people, and treated me like
the son he
never had.
A few days later I was running from a small horde of kids intent
on beating
me when I turned a corner and ran into Elyas. He smiled at
curiously,
unaware of the mob behind me. Then they rounded the corner and
ran into us.
Instantly Elyas knew what was happening and for the first and
only time I
saw anger in his aged, grey eyes. Quickly he grabbed me and
pushed me
behind him.
The oldest of the mob, a boy of about 60, stepped forward and
tried to run
around the old monk to get at me but Elyas just stuck out his
foot a bit
and, as the elf tripped over it he lifted his foot and sent the
kid flying
15' through the air.
He landed in a heap but was on his feet again instantly. His
father was
Captain of the Speaker's Bodyguard and had been teaching his son
how to
fight. He was almost as good as his father already and he knew
it.
'Step aside old one, all we want is that thing behind you.
Today is it's
last day. I won't allow it to breathe the same air as decent
folk. ' he
said and moved forward.
'I'll speak to your father about this arrogance of yours. I
know your
father is a good man, for I trained him. Now get thee hence
young Barryl or
I will give you a lesson you will remember all your days. '
Elyas
responded.
I looked up at the old monk in profound awe. I was already
eternally
gratefully to him for the small act of kindness only a few days
earlier.
Now he was defending me, and against the son of a powerful noble.
I was
stunned.
Barryl of course didn't listen. He sneered at the monk and made
another
move at me. Faster than the eye could follow Master Elyas
swatted at him as
I might at a fly. Barryl went flying and crashed into a tree.
Slowly he got to his feet and wiped away some blood from his lip.
His eyes
narrowed to slits as he looked at Elyas. He knew then he could
not defeat
the old monk. For now I was beyond his reach. He hissed in rage
at us.
'Someday I will wipe you from the face of Krynn, freak. And
you old one,
someday your time will come too. That I swear. ' he hissed
and, spitting
at us, turned and fled with his mob.
Author: Penumbra
Date Sat Nov 26 14:04:39 2005
Subject Shadowmaster Journal, Entry I (cont'd)
Elyas didn't move for a minute, then looked down at me. 'Why
do they
hate you so young one ? Because your eyes are odd ? It seems to
me
Qualinost isn't safe for you anymore. Their rage grows daily. I
must speak
with your father. Come. '
On the way to my house Elyas stopped at the house of Barryl and,
good to his
word, spoke to the young man's father about the day's events.
The Captain
was furious at his son. He promised the monk he'd take care of
it.
Satisfied with this we continued and shortly arrived at my home.
We entered
and when my father saw Elyas, Master of the Monestary of Light,
he bowed
deeply in respect. Elyas returned the gesture with a nod.
The two men stepped into another room and spoke for a while.
When they
returned neither said a word. Elyas gently put his hands on me,
turned me
around, and led me out the door. After walking for a bit he
stopped.
Kneeling beside me he looked me in the eyes and spoke.
'Penumbra, I know
you have had a hard life, harder than any child should have to
bear. That
is over now. Your father has agreed and you will live with me,
at the
Monestary, from now on. '
My jaw dropped in amazement. 'There are rules you must follow.
Some say
they are harsh but after the life you have had I think you will
find them
quite reasonable. And you must work for your room and board but
you will
enjoy it. '
'Your father agreed, but do you ? I will train you to defend
yourself
against the likes of Barryl, I will feed and clothe you and keep
you safe.
Will you accept my offer young Penumbra ? '
He was asking me if I would agree ? All my life I had been
ordered and
forced to do things, had been beaten, starved and harrassed. Now
he was
asking me what I wanted. Again, shock left me speachless.
For a second Elyas mistook my lack of response. He stood and,
sighing,
nodded at me. 'Very well my friend, you may still return home.
I will be
here for you should you someday wish it. ' he said and turned
to leave.
As he began to walk away I found myself unable to call after him,
my voice
caught in a throat constricted with shock and anxiety. With legs
of wood
and feet of lead I lurched forward and threw my arms around him.
Startled he stopped and looked down at me with my face buried in
his robe.
He rested his hand on my head and said in a gentle voice,
'Excellent
Penumbra. Come then, let's go home. '
It seemed like a dream, that walk. I looked and saw everything I
always
had, but it looked different now. It was as though I were
somehow on the
outside looking into another world at once familliar and yet
alien.
Fairly soon we arrived at the monestary and Elyas immediately saw
to it that
I had my own room made ready and then took me to the mess for a
long overdue
meal.
To my last day I will remember that meal. For the first time I
dined
instead of simply stuffing my stomach to avoid starvation. Until
that
point, at 22 years of age, I had never eaten in the company of
others.
My parents had fed me the scraps from their sumptuous meals and
had made me
eat alone, in my room. This meal I shared in the company of
others and it
was so strange I almost forgot to eat.
Master Elyas introduced me to the monks and students and to a one
they
greeted me warmly. They looked me in the eyes and didn't flinch.
They
smiled and spoke my name with graceful tongues. The entire night
was like a
dream.
After a while the hall gradually cleared, the monks and older
students going
about their duties and the younger students clearing the dishes.
I sat
alone for a minute and lowered my head into my hands.
Feeling a hand on my shoulder I flinched away at first, then
lifted my head
to look into Elyas' eyes. He brushed gently at my cheek and when
he drew
away his hand I saw his fingers were wet.
'Why do you cry Penumbra ? Are you unhappy here ? It is not
too late to
return you to your parents if you so desire. ' he said with a
look of muted
sorrow on his face.
Author: Penumbra
Date Sat Nov 26 19:20:41 2005
Subject Shadowmaster Journal, Entry I (cont'd)
At the idea of returning to the nightmare I had known until only
a few
hours ago I shuddered. 'No Master, I want to stay here, with
you and the
others. More than anything. I don't know why I'm crying, but
I'm not
unhappy at all. Is this joy ?
He looked at me with curiosity in his eyes. After a moment he
nodded as he
realised my life before had been far more hellish than he had
imagined.
'You have been wronged young one. Tomorrow we begin to repair
that. '
'For now we shall walk you and I and speak together for a
while. We must
get to know one another. ' I rose and followed as he left the
hall.
We walked a long time through the forest surrounding the
Monestary and spoke
of many things. Mostly he asked questions and I answered. Stuff
to do with
my life so far. I thought it a boring subject but he didn't.
Long after dark we returned and he showed me to my room. It was
larger than
my last one and had a window. Moonlight shimmered into room
through an open
window revealing a bed, dresser and washbasin. Spartan to some
but to me, a
palace.
I laid awake in bed that night, unable to sleep and tingling with
excitement. I wanted the sun to rise now ! I wanted the next
day to start,
my new life to commence. A life of friendship I had not thought
possible
only the night before.
It was not to be the last time my life would change considerably
in less
than 24 hours.
Eventually I fell asleep and woke early the next morn. Elyas had
instructed
me to go the courtyard where the monks would instruct and oversee
the
student's morning excercise katas, designed to stimmulate body,
mind and
soul to work in harmony.
As I went I came across other going about there affairs. Some
recognised me
from the previous evening and greeted me. Others just nodded
warmly as they
passed. I came to the front doors and stood upon the top step.
Five stairs down, into the courtyard and a serious lifestyle
change. I
found myself suddenly weakened as I gazed in apprehension upon
the
courtyard. About 30 people were there including Master Elyas.
Noticing me he gestured for me to join them as they warmed up for
their
morning practices. I looked down. Five stairs. I felt vertigo
set in and
I think I wobbled a bit as I stood there.
I fought it and, regaining control, put my foot forward. The
next thing I
knew I was standing beside the old monk. I looked back a the
door. Perched
on the roofpeek, staring at me I swear, was a huge ebon black
raven. It
blinked and I blinked back, startled. It flapped it's wings and
took off,
watching me even as it flew away. It cried out once, then
vanished into the
forest.
The rest of that day was a blur. Eventually it ended, but the
euphoria
carried over. Days became weeks, which turned into months and
then years.
Time seemed to stand still and for a long time all was very well.
It was a blissful time and I still remember it fondly. I always
will. As
all good things must however, it came to an end. In my
fourty-third year,
while walking with a friend through the forest one afternoon, I
stumbled
upon my past.
As we sat on the bank of a small stream, resting our feet in the
cool water,
we heard a noise and tunred. A troop of elven rangers stepped
into the
clearing and approached, each member bringing out their canteen
as they
prepared to refill them. The first person I noticed was the
former Captain
of the Speaker's bodyguard turned ranger and a step behind him
his son, my
nemesis, Barryl.
As if sensing my gaze he looked up and our eyes met. His
eyebrows arched in
surprise and a mooment later furrowed in rage as he recognised
me. So
swiftly he surprised everyone he dove forward at me, past his
father.
In one fluid motion he drew his dagger and slashed at my face as
he flew
through the air. He landed gracefully and spun about, ready to
attack
again. I howled in pain as my blood sprayed into the air and the
pain
reached my brain.
Author: Penumbra
Date Sat Nov 26 20:25:50 2005
Subject Shadowmaster Journal, Entry I (cont'd)
Just as he was about to uncoil and spring hif father slid between
us and
backhanded his son so hard he slammed face first into the ground.
I
screamed in agony and my friend wailed in panic as he looked upon
my injury.
Barryl's father spun about and rushed forward, kneeling beside
me. He
grabbed my hands and pulled them away from my face for a second.
Quickly he
set them back and barked orders to his men.
They moved quickly. Two stayed beside the semi caonscious Barryl
and his
father ran at my side while his men ran slightly ahead to clear
any
obstacles for us. It was less than half a mile but it took
forever.
I stumbled through the gate, already weak from blood loss. By
the time we
reached the front doors I could barely stand. A few steps later
we ran into
Master Elyas and as he turned to look upon us I passed out and
fell forward
into him.
I think I dreamed then, and they were not pleasant dreams. The
next thing I
recall is waking up in my bed in the Monestary feeling incredibly
tired and
hungry. I felt something on my mouth and when I touched it I
found it was
fabric. Bandages.
Then the memory hit me. I remembered the slash, the feeling of
flesh
tearing. Seeing my blood spray outward. The run, Master Elyas'
eyes
widening in shock and horror as he saw me when I stumbled and
fell into his
arms covering him with my blood.
I tried to feel my face through the bandages but they padded my
features too
well. I longed to rip them off but was smart enough to know
better. I
resisted the urge and lowered my hands while taking a deep
breath.
A moment later the door opened and Elyas entered. Noting I was
awake he
moved quickly to my side, praising the gods I lived. He told me
I had lost
so much blood they had feared I would not survive.
We spoke briefly but I drifted off again and slept for the most
part of
three more days. Eventually I would discover I had been
unconscious for a
week before that first awakening.
Two weeks after the attack the Master removed the bandages. He
warned me
first there would be some scaring as I had lost so much blood his
skills
were barely able to knit the flesh at all and save my life.
After he took them off I felt my face. I felt a scar, still
fairly fresh
and scabbed over. It had been a horizontal slash, across my
mouth. It had
ripped the flesh of my cheeks and the scars extended on each side
almost to
my jaw.
Instantly I could picture myself. I must look like I have a
monstrously
hideous and huge smile, I thought. I winced and shut my eyes at
the thought
of how hideous I now was.
Softly I groaned and rolled over in my bed. Master Elyas put his
hand on my
shoulder and comforted me. No word escaped his lips but he
stayed at my
side, speaking volumes.
More than an hour went by and neither of us moved, except for me
sobbing in
sorrow. I was too young to be deformed. I wasn't even 50 yet.
Would life
ever leave me alone ? Just let me be ?!?!
Eventually though I rolled over and looked at Elyas. He smiled
softly. I
sat up and embraced him, thanking him for all he had done for me.
Without
him I am sure I would have met up with far worse than this a long
time ago.
Again the days passed, one into the next until years turned into
decades.
Rarely did I leave the Monestary in that time. I began to study
and train
harder than anyone else. I knew Barryl and I would meet again.
Eventually the day came when I realised that Elyas was old, so
very old,
even for an elf. I don't know what it was, but something made me
aware that
his time was almost at an end. He had slowed down, his once
graceful stride
a shuffle.
He couldn't practice anymore. He still excersised but his health
had begun
to diminish rapidly and soon his spirit would pass beyond. We
spent more
time together and spoke frequently.
I was now 96 years old. I had been at the Monestary of Light now
for 75
years and had learned pretty much everything to be taught. I had
yet to
absolutely master it all I felt but given time I knew it would
happen.
Author: Penumbra
Date Sat Nov 26 21:13:50 2005
Subject Shadowcaster Journal, Entry I (finis)
Towards of that year, as the leaves turned gold and red and the
forest
was ablaze with a brilliant autumnal flame, we strolled slowly
along the
small creek and entered the clearing where Berryl had attacked
me.
We sat upon the bank in silence, enjoying the peace. Even with
my memory of
what had happened here it was still my favourite place to go. It
was
serene, tranquil and enchanted somehow.
After a few minutes I heard a hiss, then a tingling in the back
of my mind.
Then my vision blurred and I felt very strange suddenly, as if my
limbs were
attached to string which someone else held and was tugging on.
A voice entered my mind. 'Stand my friend, stand and show me
you can hear
me. ' it said. My limbs twitched involuntarily. I tried not
to but I
stood anyway. 'Yes my friend, I hear you. What do you wish ?
' I answered
in my mind.
I had no idea what I was doing. It was like someone had taken me
over, was
making me do things I din't want to do. 'Do you see that
feeble old man
beside you ? ' it asked.
I looked down at Master Elyas who sat at my side, a look of peace
on his
face I had not seen in many years. If I had had control of my
body I would
have wept at the beauty of his countenance then. 'Yes. ' I
replied.
'Kill him. ' said the voice. 'Of course' I answered and
with utter horror
watched and felt myself, with all the vigour of youth, spin
around and kick
my saviour in the face so hard he flew through the air.
He sprayed teeth and blood as he went and landed in some bushes.
'Excellent
my friend. Now, finish him like this. ' My body did as the
voice commanded
and my soul screamed and wept as I tortured Master Elyas to death
with my
bare hands.
For an hour I ripped him apart, litteraly, starting with his
tongue. He
looked upon me with eyes full of confusion and horror. I tried
to fight the
control but to no avail. Slowly I gouged at his flesh as his
blowed flowed
over and around me.
Finaly I raised my hand above his chest and, with all my strength
and all
his teachings I hammered my fist into and through his chest
plate. In one
brutal move I grabbed his heart and ripped it free of it's home.
I held it in front of him and ass the light faded from his eyes
the last he
saw was me, with my 7" grin, biting a chunk from his still
beating heart and
swallowing it while blood spewed from the aorta.
Then, as the voice told me to do, I threw back my head a cackled
in gleeful
madness as the essence of the first and best friend I would ever
know ran
down my cheeks. I roared with mirth for only a moment or two.
A moment later a painful but welcome smash to the back of my head
sent me
sprawling forward to land face first in the dirt. As I lost
consciousness
the voice said, 'Barryl says "Hello you little freak. This is
only the
beginning". '
That was two weeks ago. It was Barryl who smashed me in the
head. While
leading his ranger patrol they had "stumbled" upon the carnage.
He had
rushed forward, clubbed me, then taken me prisoner and back to
Qualinost.
The High council deliberated for a time but in the end forced
upon me the
Ceremony of Banishment. I protested, it hadn't been me. I mean,
it was but
it wasn't. Someone had taken over my body.
They sat stone faced and indifferent. Master Elyas had trained
many of them
at some point. He had been loved and respected by all, including
me. They
would not listen to anything a lone deformed little freak would
have to say.
As they performed the ritual and cast me out of the Elven Lands
forever I
saw Barryl in the shadows, watching and gloating. He had hired a
mage, I
knew it. I noted a councilor see him, then look to me and
gulping before
saying his bit.
The bastards were in on it ! They knew what had happened and
still they
were doing this ? All I had ever done was to be born, and for
that my life
was doomed to sorrow and pain ? Something inside me snapped,
changed.
Author: Penumbra
Date Sat Nov 26 21:54:08 2005
Subject Shadowcaster Journal, Entry I (finis, really it
is)
I prayed then to gods darker than the deepest corners of my soul
for the
power to someday have my revenge and somehow I felt some sort of
response.
I looked at Barryl and smiled my hideously long grin. He started
and I saw
fear in his eyes.
They took me then and gave me over to a Elven ranger unit. These
heartless
bastards almost dragged me without food or water for three days
through the
forests, into the foothills and eventualy the mountains south of
Qualinost.
When I could stand no more they threw me down onto the stony
ground which
had long ago shredded my shoeless feet. The bitter, cracked grey
rock bit
into the flesh of my face and chest as I fell into it and they
laughed. So
did I. They shut up.
They set about their task. They tied my hands and bloody
shredded feet to
stake which were permanently imbedded into the ground for just
this purpose.
It had been many centuries since they had been used but they were
still
sound.
When they were done they simply stood, stared a moment, then left
quietly.
I chuckled to myself, wondered vaguely if I were going insane,
shrugged my
shoulders and chuckled again.
Far as I was concerned I was dead already. The idea was for me
to die but
if by some miracle I survived I would to be exiled from all elven
lands for
the rest of my days.
The afternoon wore on and the sun finaly slipped behind the
mountain wall.
I was quite mad from heat by now and the temperature dropped as
the failing
autumn sun set making my delerium worse.
Somehow I slept that night. And it was a good sleep. In the
middle of
that, I slept like a lamb. When I woke in the morn I sat up and
found
myself upon the rocks but somehow free of the bindings and
stakes.
I looked around quickly but neither heard nor saw anything. Then
I noticed,
sitting right next to me, was a backpack. And then I noticed I
was
completely clothed in forest hunter leathers garb.
I grabbed the pack and ran for the treeline, and I've been
running ever
since. It was tough to get through but I managed to skirt the
patrols, for
the most part. I had to kill one. Five good soldiers, but they
were in my
way.
I've come north now, and have arrived in Palanthas. What I will
do, how I
will survive I don't know. Only wits and luck got me this far.
Now I need
more, something a bit more economicly rewarding than freeloading.
I think I'll keep my eyes open. Look for opportunities. Down
the road I
will have my revenge, but I'm patient. I might be partly insane,
or fully,
who knows ? But I am wholly determined to cut a swath of bloody
vengence
across the mighty Elven la I think I'll keep my eyes open. Look
for
opportunities. Down the road I will have my revenge, but I'm
patient. I
might be partly insane, or fully, who knows ? But I am wholly
determined to
cut a swath of bloody vengence across the Elven lands.
For now I'll settle for picking them off one by one, but some day
I'll bring
them wholesale death undreamed of, pain and torment like they
have not seen
in their darkest nightmares.
Nothing lasts forever. Some day, at my hands, the Elven lands
will fall.
OOC'ly : Sorry this sorta dragged on. Thanks for tuning in. :)
Author: Penumbra
Date Mon Nov 28 00:06:47 2005
Subject Shadowmaster Journal, Entry II
The merchant walked across his bedroom floor to the window and,
reaching
out grabbed the edges of the drapes and prepared to draw them
closed before
he went to bed.
He paused for a moment and looked down on the street. It was
almost 11pm
and there was still a fair bit of traffic out but thankfully no
sign of
those ruffians who had been harrasing his business of late.
Protection ! Bah ! Stupid punk thieves, that's what they were.
He'd been
in business here for 35 years, always delt a fair deal and earned
his
position in the Merchant's Guild through hard, long hours.
His new bodyguards sure taught them a lesson the last time they
came in, to
pick up the 'deposit' for their services. Beat them all soundly
they did.
Money well spent.
He sighed contentedly. Looking up from the street he gazed at
the stars
overhead. A beautiful night, indeed he thought and chuckled to
himself.
The a glint caught his eye.
Squinting his eyes he peered at the rooftop of the building
across the
street. Something moved in the shadow there and a figure clad
head to foot
in black silently slipped into the light.
It was looking directly at him and held something in it's black
gloved
hands. Nodding to the merchant once it raised it arms and in one
swift,
fluid move brought the crossbow to bear and fired.
For a split second the merchant's eyes widened in surprise then
winced in
agaony as they quarrely slammed into his skull right between
them. His
hands clenched the drapes and, as he flew backward into the room,
ripped
them from their mounts.
Landing with a thump the white sheer drapes floated gently onto
his still
form and in seconds the mass of fabric around his head was
crimson and the
stain expanded rapidly.
His wife from her bed screamed in terror. Within seconds the
bedroom door
burst in and three burly guards rushed in. The wife pointed at
the bloody
bundle of drapes and the guards pulled them back.
The merchant lay on his back with a quarrel sticking out of his
head, it's
black and yellow flights flecked with blood. They rushed to the
window to
see the assassin but to no avail. The rooftop opposite was empty
of all,
save the shadows.
An hour later a figure wearing a heavy cowled robe walked intoo
the Rusty
Rudder and sat down at a booth by himself. The serving wench
came by and he
nodded. She went to the bar, got his regular from the special
stash under
the counter.
She put the bottle and a goblet on his table and he slipped her a
few steel
pieces. She thanked him and as she left a short skinny man
appraoched and
sat down at the table.
'It's done. We saw the cityguards arrive. It was wonderful.
Chaos ! ' he
said with a lowered voice.
'Aye, it's done. Now, for you to do your job. ' Penumbra
replied quietly.
The man nodded. 'Of course. Here, ' he said and slipped
something under
the table to the assassin. The elf took the small pouch and
hefted it
before putting it into a pocket in his robe. He nodded.
Penumbra finished the meade in his goblet and picked up the
bottle.
Standing up he prepared to leave but the man reached out and
grabbed hiss
arm lightly.
'Wait, Shadowmaster. If we have need of your services again,
how can we
contact you ? We are a growing business and we might conceivably
run into
some... Opposition to our goals. '
'I'll be around. I watch, I listen. When I see possible
employment
opportunities I move. That's how we met, remember ? '
The man nodded and let go. 'Thank you again. That fat old
merchant was a
major thorn in our side in this neighbourhood. Now the others
will behave a
bit better I should think. '
Penumbra continued and left through the front door, wine in hand.
The man
returned to the bar and had another drink with a friend. They
laughed and
spoke for a few minutes, then he made his way to the door, still
laughing.
Author: Penumbra
Date Mon Nov 28 00:35:04 2005
Subject Shadowmaster Journal, Entry II (finis)
He was still laughing when a black and yellow fletched quarrel
slammed
into his temple, tore through his brain and exited the other side
of his
skull to imbed itself in the wall beside him, grey matter
dripping from it's
flights.
He dropped to his knees with a vacant expression and not a
whisper, then
pitched forward to lay face first in the gutter. A wino who had
been
sitting leaning up against the building scrambled over and began
rifling the
corpse.
Down the street a shadow slipped around a corner, unseen.
Penumbra folded
up his composite crossbow and slipped it into it's holster at his
thigh.
Two in one, he thought. Not bad.
He made his way from the area before more guards showed up,
although in this
area that would likely take a while. Within the hour he slipped
into the
house of the merchan he had slain earlier that night.
Silently he made his way to where his employer had specified and
there she
was, in a sheer gown that his none of her very womanly figure.
Although he
appreciated the sight, he was here for moeny and no more.
'You have the payment ? ' he assked, his voice a dangerous
whisper.
'Of course I do. It's right there on the counter, in the
rosewood box.
Before you take it and run, is there anything else you think you
might like,
say as a bonus ? She asked, smiling coyly.
'No. ' he said simply and picked up the box. It felt light.
He flipped
open the lid. It was empty. He spun about as he heard the door
open and
found himself facing three bodyguards.
She laughed. 'Get him boys. Thanks for killing my husband and
that stupid
little punk, although at least he was good in bed. You don't
think I'm
going to give you anything of what I just inherrited tonight, do
you ? '
she asked mockingly.
As they approached Penumbra sprang forward and smashed the heel
of his hand
into the neerest one's nose, driving bone up and into his brain.
Blood
guysered forth and he screamed as he fell back and died.
In a heartbeat the other two were dead or dieing on the ground,
broken and
shattered. The woman looked on in horror. Lifting her eyes from
the dead
men she saw the elf looking at her.
'Please, ' she begged, the haughty arrogance gone now from
her voice.
'Please, I'll give you anything. Anything at all. I'm sorry,
but I had to
try that, you understand right ? It's just that kind of
business. '
The assassin's hand flicked and her head snapped back. Slowly
she fell and
landed on her back, a heavy throwing dagged protruding from her
forhead.
Penumbra knnelt beside her and pulled it from her skull.
Wiping it clean on her dress he replaced it to the sheath along
his forearm
and stood, surveying the room. He saw a chest in the corner with
a couple
of blankets casually thrown on top. He walked over and opened
it.
Sure enough he found multiple bags of steel pieces, more than the
agreed
upon price for his services. He took what he was due and left
the rest. He
was an assassin, a trained professional, not some sloppy little
common
thief.
He took pride in his work and did it to the best of his abilities
and
refused to be brought down to the level of his employers. He had
more
integrity than that.
He left the house then and made his way back to his flat, wine
bottle still
in hand. Sitting down on an old chair he picked up a book and,
sipping his
meade, read for a while before going to bed and sleeping very,
very well.
Author: Penumbra
Date Mon Nov 28 16:06:02 2005
Subject Shadowmaster Journal, Entry III
It was a long night but turns out to be more than worth it. Mark
seemed
to suspect someone was waiting for him so he hung out at his
mistresses
place for longer than he usually did. In the end though he stuck
his head
out to leave.
His wife wanted me to snuff the mistress too, but I had informed
her that
there is a line I will not cross. No women, no children. Anyone
or
anything else is fair game. The only time I break that rule is
in self
defence or for revenge.
I was walking home after being paid and was passing near the
south gate of
Palanthas. It was late and the gates were being readied to be
closed for
the night.
Last minute stragglers were entering and I looked at them briefly
without
realy paying attention. Then something caught my eye. The way
one of them
walked, it seemed a bit odd.
I slowed down and, as something inside me urged caution, I
stepped into an
alley opening and into the deepest shadows. From there I watched
the figure
for a minute as they made their way down the street and into the
city.
They moved with an unusual grade, an economy of movement I hadn't
seen in
years, not since I had been banished five years ago. For a
moment memories
of the monestary came back but I pushed them away and continued
watching.
They were wearing a long travelling cloak with a cowl pulled over
their
head, so nothing disceernable was visible. I had a funny feeling
though so,
as they moved further down the road I slipped from shadow to
shadow,
trailing carefuly.
The longer we went the more uneasy I felt. Eventualy they went
into a small
inn near central Palanthas. Looking around I saw a street urchin
who looked
bored. Stepping over to him quickly I gave him a steel piece.
'Go into that inn, watch the person who just walked in with the
big cloak.
Come back, tell me what they look like, if they're getting a room
or just
dinner, and anything else useful and I'll give you more. ' I
said.
'You're gonna pay me that much to spy on some schmuck ? Sure
thing ! Wait
here, I'll be right back. Hope you got lots of steel mister !
' With that
he scooted across the street and into the inn.
Who the heck did I just hire ? I thought he was some innocent 10
year old.
Turned out he was the innkeeper's son. In ten minutes he was
back.
'Ok mister, show me the money. You're gonna love this. ' he
said and stood
there with his arms crossed. The little bugger thought he had me
by the
balls. And he was right.
I knew this might be important. I sighed and held out a bag of
steel,
jingling it in front of him. He grabbed at it but I pulled it
away. He
looked at me and sighed.
'Ok. He's an elf, from somewhere way south, Qualinsot or
something like
that. He's rented a room for a week, to start, with board.
Didn't state
his business, a quiet one it seemed. He got directions to the
Temple of
Kiri from dad. '
'His name. Did you get his name ? ', I asked. He nodded.
'Eldorian,
that's the name he gave anyway. Sounds elfin. ' he replied.
It was indeed. I gave him the sack of steel pieces. He hooted
and scuttled
across the street and into the inn again. I faded into the
shadows and made
my way home, deepp in thought the whole way.
Eldorian had been a monk at the Monestary. He was a bit younger
than me but
very skilled, ahead of his peers for certain but not to my level
at that
time. It had been five years though and he had always been an
excellent
student.
Over the next few days I watched and, with the help of a bit more
steel to
the innkeeper's greedy but discrete and sharp little son I
managed to learn
Eldorian was looking for someone.
He was looking for me.
I discovered quickly that he liked strolling through one of the
nearby parks
in the late evening, taking in the smell of flowers and sounds of
gurgling
little fountains and falls here and there. Quite a tranquil
setting really.
I selected an adequate vantage point in the park, slightly ahead
of him. As
he stopped at a small pond to enjoy the sound of crickets and the
moon
reflecting off the water I broke the silence.
Author: Penumbra
Date Mon Nov 28 17:20:24 2005
Subject Shadowmaster Journal, Entry III (cont'd)
'Greeting Eldorian, ' I said softly, barely a whisper but to
his ears in
that silence as good as a shout. 'It's been a long time. Why
do you seek
me out ? ' I asked.
He froze for a moment, then slowly turned around to face me.
Squinting
slightly, his keen elven eyes picked me out in the shadows. He
bowed
deepply and I returned the gesture.
'It has indeed been a few years Penumbra. I wish we had met
under better
circumstances, in happier days. ' he said.
'I've been sent to bring you back, Penumbra. A powerful mage
and his
henchmen have taken over the Monestary. It happened very
quickly, at night,
while most of us slept. They slew the Master and most of the
monks in a few
minutes. '
'They imprisoned the rest of us in the celler. After a few
days with no
food or water they began dragging us out, one by one. I can
still recall
the screams clearly. '
'Eventualy it was my turn. They dragged me into the wine room
and tied me
to a table in there. It was already covered with gore and blood.
Limbs and
bodies lay everywhere. '
'I admit, I broke. As soon as they approached I swore I would
do anything
they asked. The mage stopped and smiled. He put some sort of
bug on my
chest. It burrowed into me, Penumbra. It's still inside me.
'
'He said it's wrapped around my heart and at a thought from
him, no matter
where I am, it will wake up and eat me alive, starting with my
heart.
Unless I bring you back. '
'Why ? Why does this mage want me so badly that he's willing
to kill off an
entire monestary ? And where are the Rangers to protect it ?
' I asked.
'I saw some signs of Rangers when I left. In the woods around
the
Monestary, but they don't appear to be doing anything more than
watching. '
replied Eldorian. 'Come with me Penumbra, please. We can't
let them all
die. '
I shook my head. 'No. Not yet. The time is not right. I
will return,
don't worry about that. And when I return what you are
experiencing now,
all the Elven lands will feel. This mage is a fool. I care no
longer about
you or any other Elf. '
Eldorian's eyes widened. 'You can't mean that Penumbra ! We
were brothers,
you and I. And what of Eleria ? And Shorlon ? Can you just let
all your
old friends be cruely slain ? '
Without hesitating, I replied, 'Yes. Now return empty handed
and pray the
mage keeps you as a pet. '
'I am dead if I return empty handed. I was told to bring you
back, dead or
alive. You might not come willingly, but you will come. '
I nodded. 'Let it be so. You challenge me, and I accept.
Tomorrow eveing,
here, you and I alone, according to our traditions. Be prepared.
I am not
the same person you once sparred with Eldorian. '
He bowed respectfuly. 'Neither am I Penumbra, neither am I.
' he said.
Turning he returned to the inn and I went my way, returning home
where I sat
awake for a while thinking.
The sun set and at the same time, in the same place we met. We
each wore
our formal fighting silks, only worn for important fights. This
was about
honour and being willing to die for something important. Me for
revenge and
him, for friends.
We approached each other and stopped about five feet apart.
Bowing, we went
into our stances. I recognised his and I knew it well. A good
style, but I
knew it's weakness.
He on the other hand didn't know mine. It was my own, something
I hade been
working on for a few years now. A style to incorporate some
nasty tricks
I'd learned on the road.
He lunged at me, striking out with lightning speed with a kick
aimed at my
stomach. I dropped into the splits and punched his testicles
twice, hard.
He whimpered, held himself, and fell over.
Author: Penumbra
Date Mon Nov 28 17:39:27 2005
Subject Shadowmaster Journal, Entry III (finis)
I smiled grimly, and my scarred face made it seem a macabre,
grotesque
grin of death. 'Yes, ' I replied. I lept into the air and
brought my foot
down on the side of his head. I heard the bone crush, like an
overripe
coconut bursting asunder.
I ground my heel in and twisted to the side. His skull caved in
and I drove
his brains into the ground beneath my heel. Kneeling, I removed
his Sash of
Rank. It would have a place of honour in my trophy case.
Then I stood and without looking back I left his mangled corpse
in the park
for the dogs. I went home and thought for a while about this
mage. Who was
he ? Was the same one who Barryl had hired five years ago to
control me ?
If he is, then is Barryl behind this too ? At least I was made
evil because
of my upbringing. Although I rellish it now I was not always so.
Barryl
however had a life of privelege. Why did he turn rotten ?
Thoughts like this kept me awake for a while, and I believe I
made some
headway in the riddle, but nothing to be certain of. In the end
I shrugged.
An interesting riddle but irrelevant. Some day, when I had the
strength and
resources, I would lead a host unlike any to march against the
Elves before.
Subjugation and conquest won't be the object. Extermination
would be.
Simple, wonton, wholesale death and destruction. That will be
when my "No
women, no children" rule goes out the window. Every Elf will
die. By any
means neccessary.
I know there are too many Elves over all of Krynn to really kill
them all
but I can have fun trying and I can make such a dent in their
population
that they never, ever, ever forget the one they tormented and
cast out
unjustly.
I crawled into bed and relaxed. Allowing all thoughts to drift
from my
conscious mind I slipped into slumber. Another sunset, one day
closer to
Judgement Day.
Author: Penumbra
Date Thu Dec 8 21:44:48 2005
Subject Shadowmaster Journal, Entry IV
Well, here we are. The Eve of Destruction. The hounds of war
are we and
in the morn our masters will let slip our leashes and like a mass
of howling
animals we will assail those behind their stout walls of stone.
Well, at least, They will. My men and I will hang back a bit
until the
initial slaughter is done. I'm not going to feed my men into
that when
there are vile, stupid and evil little creatures on hand to
soften the
defences first.
I thik I can see where the first breach will happen. My
Commander showed me
the layout of the city and our positions and where he needs me to
be and
when. It looks solid. He's a good tactitian and a good person
to serve.
It will be a long, bloody affair but in the end I think it's
pretty certain
we will prevail here. Glad we didn't get hired to defend here
tomorrow.
That would not have been good.
This mercenary thing looks like it will prove to be lucrative. A
few small
caravan guard jobs, peanuts really, then this one. Aside from
straight pay
there will be other... Renumeration.
Money is good. I'm good at killing things. Getting paid money
to kills
things is therefore a very good thing indeed. Tomorrow I will
earn my pay,
and I will send every soul to whatever Dark Power saved my sorry
ass that
night on the mountainside.
The defenders aren't carrying torches as they walk the ramparts,
but I see
them. From what I've been told of the general defences and from
what I can
see on the walls it looks like we have a huge numbers advantage.
Sounds good, but those walls are tall and strong. We'll soak a
third of our
force into them I think, maybe a bit less. Haven't heard for
certain but
the rumour is the Queen sent some dragons too.
They'll make a bloody mess of those battlements come morning if
it's true.
We might suffer far fewer ground troop losses then. That's good
and bad.
Good, because it leaves more troops to control the city. Bad
because the
loot is split more ways.
We'll have a breach before noon, at the latest. Even without
dragons it
will be fairly quick. The sappers are good, the army in general
is well
trained or seasoned. My unit is small but we are each extremely
proficient
at what we do.
An ill-tempered and surly mage, a paranoid thief, a drug addled
but
magnificent warrior and myself, the somewhat unstable elven monk
who dreams
of some day slaying every last one of his kinfolk, to the last
pathetic
whining babe.
Not your stereotypical highly trained special operations unit but
in this
life anything average should probably be crushed under heel
quickly before
it multiplies.
We'll be in position with plenty of time to wander about the
field killing a
few here and there. I'm sure we can pick off a few officers or
other high
ranking enemy before our primary target should be on the scene.
That will be a tough job, I have to admit. Not too hard though.
Not for
us. I've never missed a mark, never. And it will never happen.
The chaos
of war shall be our ally and amarching we will go, into the maws
of death.
And out again through the other end, cleaving as we go. In the
morn we put
on our face of death and go forth, and the bards will sing for
many a year
of the Fall of Kalaman and how Death itself flew in fear from the
Dark Host.
Author: Penumbra
Date Thu Dec 22 17:06:37 2005
Subject Shadowmaster Journal, Entry V
Absolutely amazing. A short time ago it seemed the victory of
the host
of the Dark Lady was assured but as with all things nothing is
guaranteed it
seems, even when the odds are overwhelming.
I'm still not sure how it came to pass and I probably never will
find out
how it happened. Maybe there is no logical explanation aside
from pure
destiny. Possibly the Solamnic Knights won out because it was
fated. Or
maybe they just simply kicked our ass by digging in, standing
firm and
surrending nothing. All I care about is that my unit achieved
their goal.
Victory isn't my concern. The only thing which matters is that
we
successfuly completed our task.
Or should I say tasks. We were hired by the emissaries of the
Dark Queen to
do what we did, and now a good and noble Knight and his retinue
are no more.
Unfortunate. By all accounts he was a noble and valiant man, but
he had the
misfortune of being our target. And I, we, never miss our mark.
I don't
care how well armoured someone is, how strong or noble they may
be. Money
is money and in the end no one is invulnerable. For all his
vaunted prowess
and skill, in spite of the bodyguard around him, my poison did
it's job. My
unit cleared the path and with a slight puff of breath that tiny
needle
sailed through the air and delivered enough toxin to drop a
dragon.
I have no idea where his doomed soul wandered after he slumped to
the ground
but as the needle left my blowgun I dedicated the kill to
whichever dark
deity I owed my misbegotten life and I swear I felt a tingle in
the back of
my mind, a tingle of something very evil having been made very
happy. I
think that noble Knight is now roasting in some forlorn,
forgotten abyss.
That dark power now has a new plaything and I couldn't care less.
I live,
he doesn't, and I got paid. Nothing else matters.
That being said, I have to give credit where credit is due.
Those Knights
outfought us, plain and simple. Every attack was repulsed. Wave
upon wave
of vile little evil creatures were thrown against those stout
walls and each
time, somehow, they were turned back. When it seemed a breach
was imminent
the attack foundered as the defenders rose to the occasion and
proved
themselves equal, nay superior to, their ancestors. It was truly
a
magnificent sight to behold. I saw a knight with an arm off
fighting on,
swinging a massive two handed sword with one hand. That man
alone must have
slain more than a hundred goblins before he was finally felled.
Another,
his entrails flowing from his opened belly, kept his feet beneath
him and he
fought on before a catapult stone by chance relieved him of the
burdon of
his head. They simply refused to die when their time was up.
Absolute
dedication and iron willpower, enough to stave off death itself
for a time,
walked the ramparts and befuddled our assault. There was nothing
wrong with
our plans or the execution of them. They simply guessed what we
would do
(well, mostly anyway) and managed to find a way through to
victory. Our
fleet which was supposed to take the harbour and deliver the
troops to take
the city from that end was somehow defeated and the Solamnics
managed to
prevent us from finding out until the battle was engaged. With
only a few
exceptions (such as my unit) not one objective was met with 100%
success.
As annoying as it was to lose that battle we won a larger one,
one far more
important to the Company than mere money. It's hard for a
soldier of
fortune to admit this but sometimes, SOMETIMES, there are more
important
things than money. I said we met our objectives, plural. And we
did. One
was to complete our assignment at Kalaman. The other was to
ensure that all
opposition was pinned down there long enough for the Company to
attain a
goal it has held since the Cataclysm.
To go home.
While we warred ar Kalaman the rest of the Company, every damned
merc we
could scrape together, marched on Tarsis. Everyone had forgotten
from
whence we came. Everyone but us that is.
Author: Penumbra
Date Thu Dec 22 17:49:21 2005
Subject Shadowmaster Journal, Entry V
Centuries ago we had marched from that city as the Phoenix Legion
to
bring the city of Istar to it's knees. They had insulted the
line and
nation of Kharolis too much, slain our Queen and humilated us in
front of
the world by founding the Principality of Kharolis. They stole
our name,
our history, our Queen and our soul and we were sent to make them
pay or die
in the attempt. All we wanted was freedom and respect. Well, we
got
freedom anyway.
Halfway there, on the plains at the northeastern edge of our
Nation, we were
camped when the Cataclysm hit and the world changed. Istar
vanished, and so
did Kharolis. One was swallowed by the ocean, the other by sand.
Kharolis
became the Plains of Dust. The bastard country, the Principality
of
Kharlois, through some cruel karmic irony, survived while our
home perished.
And we were set adrift.
It didn't take long for the Lord Marshal Perrin to realise that
his army,
composed of the finest soldiers our nation had to offer, was
going to starve
to death unless something drastic happened. So he made it
happen. He
reorganised the army and began to hire it out. It was large
though and no
one could afford so many soldiers, so he broke it up into a
multitude of
small units and sent them out across Ansalon to war for various
employers.
Years passed and he managed to keep it together, barely. Finaly,
shortly
before he died, Perrin found us a new home near a small town
called Solace.
He rebuilt and abandoned keep and renamed the Phoneix Legion. So
it was the
Silver Sword Company was born. Silver for money, Sword for war,
Company for
business. We were now soldiers of fortune, mercenaries for hire
to the
highest bidder although Perrin insisted on certain rules. He'd
hire us out
but in return he only selected employers who he felt would honour
their
contracts and not betray his men. Men of the Company would only
fight on
one side, not both. He would not sacrifice morale for any money.
Money was
simply a means to an end, namely survival. His army mattered
more than
anything else and he would not allow anyone or anything to
compromise it's
integrity. So it remains today.
Eventually Perrin died and over the centuries we endured somehow,
always
warring for causes held dear by others, never for our own. The
world went
black and after a while the light began to shine again. Still we
fought on
with no thought for our own single desire. To go home.
Attrition over
centuries of warfare took it's toll and with our forces spread
thin we were
never able to muster the strength to challenge those who had come
to occupy
once mighty Tarsis. We watched, and waited. Finaly an
opportunity arose
and our Lord Marshal grabbed at it as a disembowled man grasps at
his
entrails. We sent a small part of our forces to Kalaman and
gathered all
the rest together in our keep. When the time was ripe we
marched, double
time, for Tarsis. We covered more than 100 miles a day in an
epic march to
achieve the element of surprise and it worked. One day the
people of Tarsis
awoke to find their ancient city surrounded and besieged by
unknown
soldiers. They sent officials to parlay and when they discovered
we were
the last vestage of Kharolis, that we were the Phoenix Legion
come home at
last, they threw off the yoke of their overlords and opened the
gates to to
welcome home their brothers once lost to the mists of time. Not
only did we
retake Tarsis, we did it without drawing a sword or blood. After
almost 400
years of capaigning we were finaly home.
Now we stand atop the battlements of Tarsis and survey the once
lush plains
of Kharolis, but she is gone forever and so is the Legion. In
their place
stands Tarsis, ancient beyond compare, and the Company to protect
her
forever more. Never more shall we be homeless vagabonds of war
and blood.
Aye, we are mercenaries and always will be. War is our trade,
our craft and
our love. Tarsis is a merchant city, and we are merchants of
death.
Author: Penumbra
Date Thu Dec 22 18:11:43 2005
Subject Shadowmaster Journal, Entry V
Together Tarsis and her Company will suckle the teets of fate and
when
the bitch can give no more we will slit her belly open and feast
on her
innards. We will grow strong again, we will prosper and while
Kharolis may
be dust her children are yet flesh and stride across Ansalon
fearlessly. We
have weathered the centuries and survived, both city and Company.
We are
now inseperable. We are destined to survive, as were the Knights
of
Solamnia in Kalaman. We shall not be denied.
Let the call go forth to all who value money, comaraderie and
loyalty. Come
to Tarsis, join us as we begin to rebuild anew this ancient city
of trade,
once the capital of a mighty nation. It shall be thus again.
It is destiny. OOC'ly : As you might be ably to tell, things are
changing
withng this clan. The clanbook was never written, no history
storyline had
been developed, etc. This is changing. Slowly, but it is
changing. The
name is being changed to the Silver Sword Company, the storyline
is basicly
done, clanbook is being roughed out and should be done by the
time I get
back or shortly after and the clanhall is slowly being redone.
Tarsis is
LOOONNNGGGG overdue for a facelift and that is going to happen
(although
redoing all those descrips, etc will take a while). While
Mercenary is a
cool name it only describes what we do, not who we are. This
clan, like any
other, deserves depth and character and that is what this is all
about.
Some will say "But that's not what it says in the DL books".
Deal with it.
This isn't a carbone copy of DL. It can't be and still have a
life of it's
own. This mud is inspired by and indebted to DL, not bound by
it. As more
DL books are written DL will evolve as well. And so will
Ansalon. But we
have something WoTC can only dream of having. We have a shitload
of
creative, imaginative and passionate people who only want to make
this
storyline better tomorrow than it was today. All it takes is
time and a bit
of thought. If WoTC had a brain they'd be hiring our players to
write their
stories for them and to develope Krynn beyond today's simple
format. This
is the best place to develope a story. Imms throw out an idea,
we take it
and run with it. In no time you have enough stuff for a novel.
Anyway, I digress. This is about the clan. We're here, we're
home and we
aint goin away ever again :)
Author: Penumbra
Date Fri Feb 17 00:31:16 2006
Subject Shadowmaster Journal, Entry VI
A storm raged around Palanthas and deluged the Lord City with a
torrent
of rain as lightning ripped apart the sky and thunder hammered
the air
with enough force to rattle the very stones of the stout walls.
The gate guards stood in their alcoves looking miserable,
occasionaly
sticking their heads out far enough to peek at the roiling clouds
above
in the hope of catching a glimpse of clear sky and moon but to no
avail.
The darkness was complete and impenetrable and human eyes were of
no use
in such abyssal blackness.
The eyes of the two weary travelers who approached the gates on
this
hellish night were not as feeble as those of the gate guards and
they
perceived the shivering humans long before they arrived. To
allay alarm
the smaller of the two hailed the guards before they were within
sight
and the Solamnic soldiers peered into the gloom and rain,
squinting in
an effort to see who called.
Emerging from the darkness into the pathetic light of the guard's
lanterns the two figures strode forward, undaunted by the rain.
Indeed
they walked as if they didn't even notice the downpour, their
strides
long and purposeful and untired by the long miles they had
travelled.
The guards called to them to halt and state their business in the
Palanthas.
The two stood still in the rain, their heavy leather cowls
deflecting
the rain from their heads and concealing their faces in shadow.
They
answered that they were simply looking for lodging for the night
and
that they had mercantile affairs to attend to in the days ahead.
One of
the guards thought to enquire further but as he opened his mouth
to
speak the shorter of the two glanced at him. Their eyes met and
the
guard felt a shiver run through him, from the nape of his neck
down to
his toes. The traveler's eyes, one black the other yellow,
seemed to
peer into his soul and somehow threaten it. No word was spoken,
no
threat made, but the soldier knew that these were not peasant
travelers
or paltry merchants to be trifled with. A fate worse than death
awaited
any who crossed them. He gulped as the other guard looked at him
for a
moment. Unaware of the unspoken communication he simply nodded
and
motioned for the two to enter and be about their business.
They nodded, thanked the guards and continued on into the city.
As they
passed the guards retreated back into their alcoves, each
thinking their
own thoughts. One thought of a warm bed and a fire, the other of
how he
would hold his wife and son when he got home and never let them
go
again. He knew that on this night death had found him but he had
been
fortunate that it had not been looking for him. He shivered
again, not
from the cold but from a realisation and understanding of just
how
mortal and frail he was beneath his armour.
The travelers made their way through deserted streets, the rain
pooling
into small lakes as the city's sewers were temporarily
overpowered by
the enormous volume of water. Making their way to the north end
of town
they eventualy came to the Rusty Rudder. A small seedy tavern,
frequented by lowborn drunken sailors and thieves, it was a place
where
anyone who wished could get lost if the coin in their purse and
the
sword in their scabbard was steel. Pushing open the door they
stepped
into the poorly lit smoke filled common room, although relative
to the
darkness outside it seemed almost painfully bright.
They walked over to the bar and the grizzled old man behind it
looked up
at them as they approached. He nodded once to each of them and
reached
under the bar. Holding forth his hand he gave a skeleton key to
the
smaller of the two and said, 'Your regular rooms are ready, as
you
requested. '. 'Did the package arrive ? ' asked Penumbra as he
took
the key. The barkeep nodded. 'Aye Shadowmaster, it awaits you
in your
bedchamber. '
'Excellent. Thank you. We will return shortly for food an
drink, once
we change into something a bit more dry. '. The bartender
nodded.
'Your meal will be ready, and I found some more of the Istarian
'23 you
like. ' he said.
Author: Penumbra
Date Fri Feb 17 01:20:12 2006
Subject Shadowmaster Journal, Entry VI
The assassin raised an eyebrow. 'Are you sure you aren't a mage
master
barkeep ? You seem to be able to find that which I cannot.
Someday you
must tell me where you manage to find these things. ' he said
and
smiled a rare warm smile. The barkeep snorted. 'If mage I were
I'd
transport myself out of this hole and get my ass someplace warm
and dry.
Why you come and stay in this dank pisshole when you have the
funds to
stay anywhere you like I'll never know, but your always welcome
here
Shadowmaster. ' he said.
'And that's exactly why I return here my friend. ' Penumbra
said. With
that the two made their way up the well worn stairs and into
their rooms
where they doffed their soaked clothing and changed into the
clothing
which had been laid out. Very few could expect such treatment at
this
inn, one of the worst in the city, but Penumbra had known the
barkeep
many years and kept these two rooms on permanent reatiner for a
hefty
fee. When the place needed repairs and money was tight the
barkeeper
always found a heavy bag of steel waiting for him. He knew who
left it
but didn't say anything, instead keeping the knowledge of
Penumbra's
generosity to himself. He had long ago stopped charging the Elf
for the
rooms, but still the assassin paid in full in advance. He kept
these
rooms apart from the others for the Elf with the brutal grin and
his
comrade Grolsch. They alone had earned the old barkeep's
respect.
After he changed Penumbra went to a small table in his room and
opened
the chest which rested there. He nodded to himself. The fee for
his
last kill was there, in full, as the contract stipulated. Not
surprising though. It was very rare these days for anyone to
screw with
him. It had happened a few times, early in his career, but after
he had
made examples of those fools that had stopped.
He and Grolsch descended downstairs and after eating their fill
they
kicked up their heels and finaly relaxed, soaking up the fire's
heat and
enjoying the extremely rare Istarian brew. Grolsch had been
working for
Penumbra for many years and while he was a stereotypical Ogre in
many
ways his time with theDark Elf had changed him. He had learned
much
from Penumbra, from how to kill efficiently with his bare hands
to being
able to appreciate a truly fine wine. He sighed in satisfaction
as the
potent liquor began to course through his veins. Even with an
Ogre's
constitution this was powerful stuff. He didn't know how a
little Elf
like Penumbra could hold it, but he did.
After a while the barkeep approached and leaned close to
Penumbra. He
spoke a few silent words to the Dark Elf who nodded. The barkeep
left
them and Grolsch looked over at Penumbra with an inquisitive
look.
'Another job, but we'll deal with that tomorrow. We've earned a
rest
this night. Relax my friend, this night is ours. ' he said. As
if on
cue a massive lightning strike hit near the docks and the thunder
boomed
so loud the stout oak door of the tavern shuddered visibly.
Grolsch
snorted with mirth. 'Every night is ours Shadowmaster. ' he
said and
grinned wickedly. Penumbra chuckled softly and smiled, the ragged
scar
which writhed across his face making his smile a hideous, macabre
parody
of mirth.
They drank in silence for the rest of the evening. No words were
spoken, none needed to be. They were of a similar mind and could
almost
read each other's thoughts. They simply enjoyed this time, warm
and
comfortably numb while the gods unloaded their fury from the
heavens
outside.
Eventually they made their way back upstairs to their rooms and
as
Penumbra drifted off he considered what the barkeep had told him.
He
had mentioned a name, a name he had not heard of in many years,
yet a
name he thought of almost every day. Ever since he had been cast
out he
had been looking for an excuse to return to Qualinost and have
his
revenge on the Elf who had framed him. Now it looked like he
would have
his chance, and get paid handsomely for it too.
Author: Penumbra
Date Fri Feb 17 09:29:58 2006
Subject Shadowmaster Journal, Entry VI(cont'd)
The day had dawned bright and beautiful in complete contrast to
the
hellstorm of the night before. The sun was bright and warm, the
wind
just strong enough to ruffle one's clothing a bit and the
tantalising
smell of saltwater was carried on the breeze. Seagulls floated
lazily
in the sky, searching for free food and crying out to each other
as they
spiraled gracefully overhead.
Penumbra had been up early to meet the person the barkeep had
told him
about and as he returned to the Rusty Rudder he was humming to
himself
as he walked, lost in thought. In his mind's eye he plotted the
course
he and Grolsch would need to travel, decided on the supplies they
would
need and considered timelines. War was brewing and soon the
Company
would need his services again. After the job they would have to
return
directly to Tarsis so he had arranged for the payment to be sent
there.
He had worked for this person before so he wasn't worried about
them
trying to screw him over for the steel. The job would be done,
the
payment would be sent.
Stepping into the Rudder he saw the barkeep behind the bar
serving
drinks to the hardcore early morning drunkards and approached
him.
Signalling for the man to lean closer the assassin spoke a few
words
into his ear. The man raised a bushy grey eyebrow and looked at
Penumbra with a bit of surprise. Penumbra just nodded and turned
to join
Grolsch at a table where the massive Ogre was finishing his
morning
meal.
'Did you leave any for me ? ' the Dark Elf asked as he sat down.
Grolsch pushed a plate with a few scraps of bread and cheese
toward him,
then reached out and snagged the cheese from the plate. Penumbra
gave
him an evil stare and the Ogre laughed. 'Just kidding, ' he
said.
'Yours is coming in a minute. '. As promised a minute later the
serving wench brought another plater of steaming stew to the
table. The
Rudder might be a dive thought Penumbra but the cook here is
incredible,
possibly one of the best in Palanthas. Why he worked in a
shithole like
this was a mystery. Probably the same reason the accomplished
assassin
came here he thought. He shrugged and dug in, the savoury aroma
causing
him to salivate as he dug in.
Grolsch drank a mighty Ogre sized mug of beer and watched his
friend eat
in silence. Not only could the Elf consume vast quantities of
alcohol
he could eat enormous amounts of food. Must be some Ogre in him
he
thought.
When he was done Penumbra sighed contentedly and looked to
Grolsch.
'Well, it looks like we're off soon my big friend. Back to
Abanasinia,
back to Qualinost. ' A look of surprise crossed the Ogre's face
and
Penumbra nodded. 'That's right, Qualinost. Looks like I'm going
to get
my revenge, or some of it, and get paid handsomely for it too.
'.
Grolsch smiled and hoisted his mug. 'A toast then to fate and
Shinare,
without whom we'd be poor soldiers in some pissant little town
guarding
some pissant little overlord. A toast to money and the greedy
little
bastards who throw it at us to do what we love to do most ! '.
Penumbra
smiled and toasted fate and divine blessing with his friend.
After quaffing their drinks Penumbra told Grolsch that their
preparations were almost complete. He had booked passage on a
vessel
departing in the morn for Abanasinia and had visited a
weaponsmith who
would provide a few special tools they would need. They could be
picked
up later in the day and aside from that there was only one more
thing
Penumbra needed but he would have to wait for someone to contact
him.
For the most part their day was free. At this the Ogre cheered
and
stood. He nodded to Penumbra and, hefting his money belt and
jingling
the vast store of steel slightly, smiled and walked from the
Rudder.
Penumbra remained seated for a while, then returned to his room
where he
could think in peace and quiet. An hour passed and then he heard
a soft
knock on the door.
He rose and opened the door. An inky blackness swirled outside
and a
soft melodic voice intoned, 'You required this ? '.
Author: Penumbra
Date Fri Feb 17 10:10:28 2006
Subject Shadowmmaster Journal, Entry VI (cont'd)
Penumbra nodded and accepted a small vial. In return he produced
a bag
of steel coin and gave it to the cloaked figure.
'We were surprised to hear of your need, it is not your way to
use such
things, but we enjoy hearing of your feats. To us you are an
artist,
with death your medium. This should add nicely to your palette
board.
As requested, it is potent. '
'Thank you, ' said the hired killer. 'If I have need of your
services
again I will contact you. '.
The shadow swathed figure nodded and bowed slightly. 'Of course.
I
will leave you to begin your masterpiece. ' it said and then
faded into
thin air before Penumbra's eyes. A moment later it was gone
leaving
nothing but a faint sickly sweet smell of decay and death in it's
wake.
Closing the door he returned to his bed and laid down, losing
himself in
thoughts and plans.
Eventually he arose and stepped out of the tavern and into the
night.
Grolsch was still out somewhere, likely drinking and wenching at
a
brothel in town which had a few Ogresses. Penumbra went to the
weaponsmith and picked up his items and wandered aimlessly for a
while,
stopping occasionaly to get some mundane supplies for the journey
ahead.
Eventually he made his way back to the docks and the Rudder.
Grolsch had returned and sat at a table drinking from a huge mug,
a
satisfied look on his huge face. He smiled as he saw Penumbra
and
nodded. The Elf sat at the table and nodded too the barkeep who
sent a
wench over with a flagon of mead.
'It is done, ' Penumbra said. 'Everything is readied. We leave
on the
morning tide and should make landfall in a week or so. After
that, a
week overland to our target, then another two to Tarsis. A month
from
now we'll be back with the Company to assume our command. I hear
the
rumblings of war and our comrades call. '.
'Good, ' said the Ogre. 'As much as I like wandering around
killing
someone here and there I can't wait to get back into a mass melee
again,
hewing heads and limbs left and right. Ahh, chaos, death and
blood....
' he sighed at the thought.
Penumbra smile inwardly. You can teach an Ogre to appreciate
fine wine
he thought but in the end all you have is a bloodthirsty violent
creature who happens to like fine wine. He pondered this for a
moment,
realising the description fit him too.
They spent the rest of the evening in the common room, chatting
away
about old times and solidifying their plans for the next month.
Eventually turning into their rooms for the night Penumbra lay
awake for
some time before eventually fading into sleep. One word, one
name kept
going through his mind. He was excited about this job. It was
time,
and long overdue.
'Barryl, ' he thought. 'Soon, Barryl, soon you will pay. And a
few
others also. But you, you will die, as your pet mage made me
slay
Master Elyas so too shall you die. '
He drifted off to sleep and somewhere in Qualinost a Captain of
the
Guard stirred in his sleep and awoke, sweat covering his brow.
Something
nagged at his subconscious mind and made his heart race. It was
like
someone called to him from far, someone evil with intent most
foul.
Barryl knew instinctively death had called him in the night and
that it
was coming for him. Eyes wide he sat in bed beside his sleeping
wife
and child and slept not again that night.
Author: Penumbra
Date: Sat Jan 1
15:09:23 2011
Subject Revenge and Proffit, I
Flecks
of blood sprayed forth with his final soundless scream,
evidence
of ruptured vocal chords pushed beyond their limits
after hours of precise
torture. His arched body shuddered and
slumped to the ground, it's tattered
and bloody mass twitching
momentarily as his soul fled, bound and chained to
some nether
region to endure an eternity of the tender mercies of
Chemosh.
His countenance devoid of emotion, Penumbra wiped clean
his stiletto on
Endryl's cloak and slipped it back into it's
sheath. Messy though the
procedure had been it had been necessary
for two reasons. One, Penumbra had
been paid to kill the Elf and
two, Endryl had information as to the
whereabouts of Berryl. For
that information Penumbra would have taken the
job for free but
someone offrered something more usefull than mere
steel.
Standing and spinning about in one fluid move the
assassin took a few silent
steps and disappeared into the
shadows, leaving the ruined corpse for the
watch to find. Once
found they would see the Elven rune engraved into
Endryl's
forhead and relay that to the Qualinesti. When news reached
the
council they would know that it had finaly begun.
The Elf
they had cast out and condemned to death had returned to claim
a
bloody vengeance on every last one of them. Not just the lieing
little
weasal who had framed Penumbra and forced him to slay his
mentor, but on the
whole bloody lot of them for leaving him
chained to the side of a mountain
for the buzzards to pick away
at.
Only Chemosh had cared, only His dark embrace had saved
Penumbra, and now
the Elven assassin lived to serve his Lord and
send souls to please His Dark
Delights. It was not a life he
would have chosen given the chance but
Penumbra had been scarred
and moulded by forces beyond his control into a
monster with only
one purpose, only one burning desire - revenge. Vengeance
on all
those who wronged him, all those who cast him out, all who
framed
him. His wrath vast and bottomless, Penumbra had promised
on that dark,
bleak mountain top to send the soul of every Elf on
Krynn to any Dark Power
which would save him and allow even a
small chance to be avenged. And his
final breathless dieing plea
had been answered by Chemosh - sweet, merciful
Chemosh.
Moving
quickly and quietly he made his way across Palanthas to the abode
of
the mage who had hired him.
Author: Penumbra
Date: Sat Jan 1 16:10:50 2011
Subject
Revenge and Proffit, II
Chuckling to himself as he closed
the heavy door behind him Matrim
removed his cloak and casualy
dropped it onto the floor for a servant to
pick up later.
Stepping into the front sitting room he opened up a cabinet
and
poured himself a drink from the crystal flask inside. Sighing
heavily,
and still chuckling softly at his friend's parting jest
of a moment ago, the
old mage turned and moved to sit in his
favourite chair but came up short
suddenly, almost spilling his
drink so startled was he by the hooded figure
sitting there
already.
For an instant he considered calling forth a spell to
smite the intruder but
something about the figure caused him to
hesitate. It was then Penumbra
pulled back the cowl of his
weathered cloak and Matrim sighed again, this
time in
relief.
"You should be more careful Shadowmaster, I almost
sent you to your Lord."
he said with a sly smile.
"I would,
if I felt even remotely threatened by you. The deed is done, I
am
here for your payment." the Elf replied with disdain,
somehow managing to
look down his nose at the mage even from a
seated position.
The mage's good homour evaporated instantly and
rage began to well up in
him. He began to recal a potent spell,
one to annihilate this imputed, black
hearted assassin but
something in Penumbra's eyes made him reconsider. With
one black
eye and one yellow eye his gaze was unnevering generally, but
for
a brief moment the mage saw something far more potent than a
weaponmaster
and pitiless slayer for proffit. This one was
marked, the mage could sense
it, and he knew that to cross that
would be foolish. Instead he nodded and
reached into the cabinet
again. Instead he nodded and reached into the
cabinet again,
bringing forth a small vial filled with a dark,
viscous
liquid.
"I don't know why on Krynn you would want this
potion Shadowmaster, but you
have your reasons obviously. I won't
enquire as to what they are but take
it, " and with that passed
it over.
The mad Elf nodded his thanks. "If you have need of
my services in the
future, you know how to contact me. Remember,
I give a discount on Elven
targets.". Penumbra slipped the vial
into a beltpouch and soundlessly
slipped out the front door and
into the night, leaving Matrim to wonder
about the strange Elf
for a moment before shrugging his shoulders and
quaffing his
drink. He was glad to be rid of both his competitor and
that
accursed potion.
A few hours later Penumbra finaly
returned to his lodgings in the city and
in the darkness sat
while considering his next move. In the morn he would
leave for
the next piece in the puzzle. Berryl. Finally, he knew where
to
find him and to make it sweeter still he was at the High
Clerist Tower, not
far at all, with an Elven emissary. Berryl was
in command of the Guard
accompanying him and Penumbra knew the
Tower Grounds very well, including
how to access certain hidden
passages and chambers. His thoughts turned to
the logistics of
the trip and to contriving a means to escape with his
prisoner
and while that would not be so easy getting rid of Berryl would
be.
Penumbra already had a buyer.
He smiled evily at that.
Normally he was paid to kill, but this time he
would be paid to
keep someone alive. How wonderfully ironic the mad
Elf
thought.
"Ah, " sighed Penumbra in satisfaction. "Paid
not to slay, but then there
are worse fates than death and Berryl
you are about to learn that first
hand.".
Many leagues
distant a figure stirred in his sleap and moaned softly.
Suddenly
sweat poured from his brow and he convulsed in pain.
Sitting
upright quickly as he awoke with a startled cry Berryl
looked about wild
eyed for thepresence he had felt. Casting about
his tent quickly he realised
he was alone but also that for a
moment he had not been. It was a warm night
and yet he could see
his breath and Berryl knew that something was coming
for him, but
not for death. He sensed, felt in the core of his being, that
a
fate worse than death hunted him now.
Author:
Penumbra
Date: Sat Jan 1 17:02:02
2011
Subject Revenge and Proffit, III
With a flick
of his wrist Penumbra finished carving his rune into the
forhead
of the Elven Ambasador to Solamnia then wiped the blade clean on
the
Elf's once white robes of office. This had been a friend of
his father and
Penumbra took some extra satisfaction knowing the
pain and consternation
this would cause back in Qualinost.
Turning about he gazed with even more
pleasure on the form of
Berryl where he lay, awake and terrified but unable
to move.
The
assassin smiled evily and hissed, "Now we come to the crux of
it old
friend. Now you find how I repay you for the past.".
Perking up his ears he
heard footsteps rushing down the corridor
towards their chamber. Swearing
silently for allowing the old Elf
a chance to shout an alarm Penumbra
grabbed his paralysed quarry
by the collar and dragged him through an
opening in the wall and
into a darkened passage. With a light touch he
triggerd the door
to close, leaving narry an indication in the chamber
behind that
a secret route existed there. From the other side he could
hear
the Tower Guard entering the small outbuilding where the
Elves had been
housed for the night. As they took in the macabre
scene and uttered
exclamations of surprise and revulsion Penumbra
calmy pulled a writhing,
wiggling worm from a pouch. Grabbing a
firm hold of Berryl he ate the worm
and in a flash both were
transported to Penumbra's lair. It was a costly
move but it was
the most expeditious way to exit the fortress with his
prey
intact.
The assassin worked quickly now because very soon
all the hornets would be
out and about, buzzing angrily that
someone had slain an Elven Ambassador on
the grounds of the High
Clerist Tower and even in Palanthas the
reverberations would be
felt. In moments he had Berryl rolled up in an old,
moth eaten
and ratty carpet and loaded onto a rickety old wagon with
an
assortment of old junk and garbage. Throwing an equaly warn
and rotten cloak
about his shoulder he began to pul the handcart
through the darkened city
streets.
As he neared the final corner
before the gates came into view Penumbra
assumed a pronouced
limp, picked up some excrement freshly thrown from a
chamber pot
above and smeared in onto his cloak. Rounding the corner he
made
a direct line for the Gate and the Guards standing there
directing the ebb
and flow of traffic before the Gates closed for
the night.
Shuffling up to them with his squeaking wagon of
debris he made a pathetic
sight and as he neared them the Guards
opened their eyes in surpsise and
gagged as his disguise
assaulted their nostrils. "Halt there old man, " said
one as
he gasped for unbefouled breath. "By Kiri's left ball man !
Which
latrine did you sleep in ? Ugg ! You're leaving Palanthas ?
Good ! Good !
Get out ! And don't come back without experiencing
soap for once in your
life !" he exclaimed.
The other Guard
nodded his agreement and they hurriedly ushered him through
the
Gate. Even the other people present there were shocked by the
foul smell
but Penumbra was pleased. Getting past these Solamnic
Guards without their
checking for contraban wasn't easy.
Once
out of sight Penumbra straightened his posture again and
quickened his
pace as he made his way down the road with his
creaking wagon. After an hour
he came to a laneway heading off to
the south through a screen of trees and
turning down it made his
way down the meandering path to the small stone
house at the end.
One quick knock on the door and in a moment it opened and
warm
candlelight streamed into the night.
A gnarled old figure stood
within and squinted as he struggled to peer into
the deep shadows
of the night. After a moment he could make out the figure
of
Penumbra and motioned him to quickly come inside. The assassin
did so,
dragging the rolled up carpet in with him. Old Bethos
closed the door and
turned as Penumbra gave the carpet a flick,
causing it to unroll and display
it's contents.
Author: Penumbra
Date: Sat Jan
1 17:46:07 2011
Subject Revenge and Proffit,
Finis
Berryl lay there, wide eyed and terror stricken. He
had no idea yet what
was in store be he knew it wouldn't be good.
Bethos quickly knelt beside him
and grasped his jaw with a
surprisingly firm grip. Peering carefully at the
terror stricken
Elf, he moved his head from one side to the other, then
proceeded
to quickly give Berryl a once over check. After a moment he
nodded
and stood.
"As you promised, one Elf in excellent
physical health without a scratch.
Well done Shadowmaster." he
said.
Penumbra bowed slightly in appreciation of the compliment
then knelt at
Berryl's side one final time.
"Here you are old
friend, finally where you should be. Let me explain, "
Penumbra
whispered. "After I knocked you out and finished off
the
Ambassador, I forced a potion down your gullet. This
concoction is almost
incredibly valuable, but unfortunately has
very undesirable consequences. As
you have noticed, you can
neither move nor speak although you can hear and
feel everything
perfectly normaly. Your limbs are no longer yours to control
-
they only react now to external stimulus. Your lifespan however
has been
increased a hundred fold and you now regenerate all
wounds with truly
remarkable speed. You see what I mean by almost
valuable. Considering you
are an Elf, you should live a very long
time indeed. Unfortunately."
Berryl's look became confused for
a moment and Penumbra, seeing this, nodded
and smile
darkly.
"Let me explain one final detail. I have sold you, for
a nice sum I must
say, to kindly old gent here. You are to be his
newest, most highly prized
...", Penumbra paused, searching for
the word. "Subject I guess would be
accurate. You see, "Let me
explain one final detail. I have sold you, for a
nice sum I must
say, to kindly old gent here. You are to be his newest,
most
highly prized ...", Penumbra paused, searching for the
word. "Subject I
guess would be accurate. You see, Old Bethos
here is a vivisectionist. You
are now his subject and in his
tender hands I am certain you will help
advance medical science
immensely. It will no doubt take many decades of
experimentation
but with your increased lifespan and regenerative capability
you
will be around for the duration."
Berryl thought for a moment
then, as understanding dawned on him of his
fate, his eyes grew
wider and he tried to shake his head and scream but to
no avail.
Try as he might he couldn't even open his mouth. Penumbra saw
the
blank terror in Berryl's eyes and smiled a disturbingly happy
smile. He
nodded goodbye to his childhood foe and turned to face
the old scientist.
"Many thanks Shadowmaster. As per our
contract, here is you payment." said
Bethos and handed the tall
Elf a velvet bag. Hefting it slightly in his
hand, Penumbra
nodded to the old man and without a word departed into the
night,
leaving a very eager doctor with his newst test subject to
begin
their life's work. By the time Penumbra tiredly crawled
into bed a few hours
later he was completely spent but feeling
better than he had in years. He
had finally begun to make some
progress on his life's ambition of revenge
and managed to earn a
nice bit of steel along the way. The money was nice,
but for this
warm fuzzy feeling of satisfaction he'd work for free if he
had
to.
Finally, Berryl taken care of. Now he would begin to
look for ways to defeat
the rest of them, one by one. Until he
had sent every damned Elf on Krynn to
Chemosh, to roast for
eternity in the Abyss. They deserved no less. Penumbra
knew he
was insane, to want to destroy an entire race, his own race no
less,
but he didn't care. He was so far beyond sanity, had been
most of his life
he guessed, that it was no longer relevent. All
that he cared about now was
revenge.
Penumbra chuckled softly
to himself as he drifted off to sleep. And proffit,
he thought.
After all, even an insane and vengeance driven Elf needs to
eat.
Author: Penumbra
Date: Sun
Jan 9 13:31:31 2011
Subject Inspired Revenge, I
As
he exited the quaint little country farmhouse with the
wonderful
thatched roof Penumbra paused and spared a moment to
look back at his
handiwork.
Blood, entrails, limbs and organs
littered the place from top to bottom
leaving no room or surface
untouched. It had been a messy affair but
satisfying in the way a
tradesman feels pleasure at having done fine work
with his bare
hands. Penumbra's art was a bit more macabre, certainly, but
he
took no less satisfaction than any other artisan might. The way
they had
run amok, frightened and screaming as they bled from
arterial wounds had
been music to his ears. Their high pitched
wailings had hit certain musical
notes and the assassin wondered
briefly if it would be possible to piece
together and conduct a
symphony from the screams of tortured victims. The
thought made
him smile a wicked grin and chuckle slightly aware all the
while
that he was thoroughly and completely mad with revenge and that
he was
damned but he cared not and spat with contempt on his
ancient elven
lineage.
He thought for a moment of setting the
place ablaze but it was more effort
than it was worth he figured.
Besides, the worms have to eat too. Shrugging
his broad shoulders
he turned and quickly departed, heading for the woods a
short
distance off. As he went he contemplated his progress. While he
had
managed to slay quite a few of his kin over the past few
years as he did the
math he began to realise there was simply no
way he would live long enough
to kill every last elf. There were
simply too many enemies and not enough
time to proceed at his
current pace. With the thought of not gaining his
full revenge
came a black darkness upon his mind and awareness of
his
surroundings slowly faded until it seemed he walked in a
black mist which
obfuscated reality through a gauzy, ashen black
veil.
An eternity passed as Penumbra's mind roiled endlessly in
it's madness until
he became aware that he was not alone. Slowly
a dim point of light became
evident ahead, a sickly yellow light
that he found comforting and warm. He
continued to walk steadily
forward and eventually the light grew larger and
coalesced into
the shape of a grotesquely bloated satyr. It gazed upon him
with
eyes darker than the deepest Abyssal reaches and Penumbra
felt
something spike into his brain and deep into his
soul.
"Ahh, Penumbra, my adorable servant, I see you wander in
turmoil and
damnation." a voice said, and that voice was filled
with all the warmth and
love that Penumbra knew he had missed as
a child. It drew him in and snared
his heart, like a spider would
a fly in it's web. Irresistable, undeniable
and as unavoidable.
Penumbra knew this, knew he was being seduced in a way
but didn't
care. Any remotely rational living creature would have
cringed
and fled in horror from the apparition but Penumbra ran
forward and embraced
it, to be in turn embraced. The obscenely
obese Satyr picked him up and held
him n a warm embrace as it
spoke in his head, "While I cannot, and would not
even if I
could, undo your damned state mayhap I can provide some
guidance
to your troubled mind ?" Chemosh purred like a
concerned and caring parent.
Penumbra didn't need to say
anything, for the divinty was well aware of
every thought
coursing through his mortal brain. "I see, " said the Lord
of
Death. "Well, yes, mathematicly speaking it is impossible
for you to kill
every last Elf in only one lifetime, even one
Elven lifetime. No need to be
so glum about it though Penny. I
know, you swore to me when you were chained
to that mountaintop
that you would erradicate every last Elf and I do intend
to hold
you to that my beautiful little servant but there is yet time,
your
death is not imminent so be patient for now. Let this war
within you abate,
let your subconscious mull it over a while. The
seeds are already there,
they must simply mature to
fruition.".
Author: Penumbra
Date:
Sun Jan 9 13:58:37 2011
Subject Inspired Revenge,
Finis
Ever so gently the being set him down and caressed
his cheek in a final
maternal gesture. Slowly it receeded and
faded from view, leaving Penumbra
alone again in his grey, insane
mist. Eventually that too receded and he
became aware again of
reality and gazed about.
His eyes opened in shock as he realised
he was only two blocks from his flat
in Palanthas. Last thing he
remembered was entering the woods, but that had
been 40 miles
from the city. Somehow he had travelled that distance,
entered
the city past the Guards at the gate and made his way
home - all without
being aware of anything. He shook his head and
laughed slightly to himself
but shrugged his shoulders and kept
going. His Master had given him much to
think about, or to not
think about maybe. He wasn't certain what to think at
this point
so when he finally opened the door and stepped inside the
only
thing on his mind was a good night's sleep.
The next
morninghe awoke feeling completely refreshed and as he stretched
he
remembered Chemosh's words. 'war within' rang in his mind
loudly, and then
he had it.
Quickly the seed mushroomed and grew
into a broad realisation.
While it was impossible for him to
physicly kill every Elf himself, he might
be able to CAUSE the
death of enough Elves to swing the balance in his
favour. War.
That was it. He needed to incite a war. Somehow. Not just
any
war, not a skirmish or two. No. This needed to be a monster
mother of a war,
one agressively conducted and perpetuated over
an extended period to ensure
the highest number of
casualties.
For a moment the breadth of the scale required for
such a thing struck him
numb, but slowly he wrapped his tormented
brain around the problem and began
to disect it and take it apart
in order to study it's critical elements.
Disection, he thought.
Speaking of that ... Berryl. That made him smile.
That potion
would enable Berryl to live, theoreticly anyway, for 1/2
a
million years, maybe more. The vivisectionist Penumbra had sold
him to could
disect him for maybe another 50 years before he
died, but would no doubt
pass Berryl on to his students thereby
ensuring (hopefully) that Berryl
would enjoy many centuries of
daily dissection. Even if Berryl eventually
passed beyond their
hands his entire existance would be trapped in that
shell of a
body. Eternal but unmoving, unspeaking. Frozen until his
mad
nemesis returned to finaly put him out of his misery. When
only they were
left, the last two Elves, Penumbra would end it.
And then he would have to
end his own life. ALL Elves must die,
the line must end completely. Even
his.
Standing up he
approached the window and opened the shutter wide.
Sunlight
streamed in and blew away the darkness of his melancholy
and madness, at
least for a while. He sniffed the fresh morning
air scented with sea salt
from the docks and listened to the of
the gulls as they screached and
circled the ships looking for
dinner.
Turning from the light he retreated back into the
shadows and ate a quick,
cold breakfast. While my food may be
cold, he thought, at least my revenge
shall be hot. Hot like only
a vast and wonderful war of extermination can
make it. He
chuckled madly to himself and choked down the last
morsal.
Washing it down with a mind bending draught of Absynthe
he staggered to his
feet and began a new day, one devoted to
crafting the ultimate revenge.
Author: Penumbra
Date: Sun Jan 9 14:39:19 2011
Subject
Inspired Revenge, Finis
The giant Satyr slowly withdrew
it's embrace and gently caressed his
cheek. The obscene shape
receeded until only a slightly disgusting yellow
light remained
and then it too vanished, leaving the assassin alone in his
misty
madness. Eventually that too paled and Penumbra returned to
reality to
gaze about in surprise and shock. The last he
remembered was entering the
woods but now he found himself in
Palanthas and only two blocks from his
flat. He had absolutely no
recollection of having travelled over forty miles
through the
wilderness and entering the city, presumably past the city
gate
Guards. His bewilderment lasted only a moment before he
recovered his wits
and continued until he had reached home. Upon
enteriing he didn't even
bother to strip first - he just threw
himself onto his bed and instantly was
asleep.
If he dreamed at
all he never knew but when he awoke the next morn he felt
better
and more refreshed than he had for many a year. It seemed to him
that
he felt a clarity of thought somehow and when he opened the
shuttered window
to gaze upon the new day the sunlight hit him an
he knew. The seed sprouted
and flowered in his mind's eye and in
buit a moment he saw it all laid out
before him. How to kill
enough of his kin to tilt the balance in his
favour.
War. Not
just any war, not a skirmish or two, but a monster mother of a
war
of extermiination waged with enough agression to last long
enough to inflict
sufficient casualties.
The magnitude of the
task, the sheer scale struck him numb for a moment but
a
reassuring purr in the back of his mind reassured him. Recovering
himself
he smiled into the sunlit morn and began disecting the
concept into it's
constituant parts, wondering how he would
trigger each phase.
Then another thought struck him. In the end,
were he to be successful, there
would be two Elves remaining.
Namely, himself and most likely Berryl. While
his most hated
enemy was safely in the hands of a vivisectionist who would
pass
this near immortal test subject on to his students there must
come a
time, maybe centuries or millenia hence, that they must
meet again and
Penumbra would have to finish the job. Leaving
only one. He. Himself.
What then ? he thought. I swore to kill
all Elves. A vague academic
curiosity took hold and he giggled at
the absurdity, shrugged his shoulders
and continued on his way,
plotting his mad and inspired plan of revenge.
Author: Penumbra
Date: Mon Dec
7 23:46:27 2015
Subject A Shadow
Returns
Standing at the top of the gangplank Penumbra
paused for a moment to survey the docks below. It was a busy day
in the Lord City's port and hundreds of men heaved, hoisted and
moved tonnes of merchandise on and off scores of vessels moored
at the piers. Gulls circled and cried aboved, a few dogs could be
heard above the din, some kids running screaming merrily through
the throng
(some no doubt picking pockets deftly as they ran),
sailors and dockhands yelled orders and feedback to each other
... the sound was deffening after the silence of the sea but the
assassin loved it all the same.
Lots of people means lots of
employment opportunities. The thought of being back to doing what
he loved gave him a warm, fuzzy feeling inside and he smiled
slightly then. Ah, if anyplace was home it was Palanthas.
The
sound of footsteps approaching from behind cought his attention
and without turning the elf called out behind him "Home at last,
eh Istarian?"
"Aye Penumbra, it is my home, and while you are in
my home you will refrain from killing it's it's inhabitants won't
you?" said Tiberius as the elf turned bow slightly. The mercenary
returned that with a nod and continued. "Don't get me wrong
Penumbra, personally I have no issue with you. I've fought with
and against you on the field and I leave those fights there but
in this place the rules are different between you and I."
For an
instant Penumbra's anger flared and Tiberius saw it in his odd
coloured eyes, one yellow the other black as the Abyss. Just as
quickly he regained his self control, smirked a bit and nodded.
"Of course Lord Eskariot, it is as much my home as well. I don't
pollute my own yard. I do however reserve the right to keep
vermin from living under my front porch. As do you in you
lighthouse. On a side note, I'd love to see the Beacon sometime,
they say it's ancient."
The mercenary captain laughed aloud and
nodded. "Fair enough my friend, fair enough. And if you like,
come by any time. You know Endarius, he'll let you by. Until we
meet again then fare thee well, keep your blade and wits sharp."
The tall human stepped past the diminutive elf and strode boldly
down the walkway and onto the docks. In a moment he had vanished
into the throng and would soon be high on the hill overlooking
the city.
Penumbra moved smooth and quick to the docks and he
too made his way home but for him that would be not a high hll
but a dank, soiled rathole. As he neared it he noticed a moment
where oddly there was only himself and one other on the street.
He noticed the other man was also an elf and almost without
thinking Penumbra shuffled over quickly and quietly behind him
and with one hand over the elf's mouth he used the other to slip
a stilletto into the base of his skull
and deep into his brain.
Penumbra shoved forward and pushed him into a wall to keep
control of the body as it fell and convulsed and he slowly knelt
with it as it fell. He deftly pulled the blade free and stood in
one movement, did another quick shuffle and slide into a shadowed
alley and continued on his way.
"Sorry about that Tiber'"
Penumbra thought to himself. "But my Lord Chemosh hungers and my
word to him supercedes any rules between us. It was naught but an
elf, he deserved it. Don't worry, with any luck soon there won't
be any more elves and you won't have to worry about me killing
them anymore"
A minute later the Rusty Rudder came into view and
without asking where he had been for years the barkeep simply
nodded to the assassin and informed him his regular rooms were of
course available and stocked awaiting his return. Going upstairs
he thought he would lay down for just a moment but almost as soon
as his head hit the pillow he was out. The last week at sea had
been rough and no one had slept much, passengers or
crew.
Finally being in a bed that didn't heave up and down was
like being in paradise and the last thought Penumbra had as he
drifted off was "Home ... at last."
The Storytellers of Ansalon, The DragonLance MUD
Astinus points to the massive wall of books behind him and bids you to make a selection.
Authors:
All|
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Astinus mentions 'We have had over 868 storytellers on Ansalon
pen their epic stories here for all to read.'
\n
