Yet another challenge from Ariel. I just hope she gives me a break after I'm done with this story.
Jarlaxle felt miserable. He had betrayed his closest friend, if the assassin Artemis Entreri could be considered a friend, by leaving said human to the black dracolich, Urshula.
He stood before the replica of Castle Perilous, the ground barren and cracked. The earth's values and minerals had been sapped by the construction of the magical tower, and the plants were dying because of that as well. Each step Jarlaxle took sent up a small cloud of dust, and they seemed to come as a steady beat, each a testament to all that had died in the castle.
Jarlaxle painfully recalled the memory of the great battle. The dragon rose up, started to attack the only survivors, which were merely Athrogate, Arryan, Olgerkhan, and the dynamic duo that became a single in the blink of an eye.
Athrogate started as he usually did, smashing his way in with his two heavily enchanted morning stars, which proceeded to do absolutely nothing to the magically empowered dragon skeleton.
Entreri joined in by jumping onto the dragon's back, hacking away at the beast's spine with Charon's Claw and attempting to draw the life out of a beast that had none. At this precise moment, Jarlaxle, standing ever so comfortably above all the clamor, called upon the magic of the skull gem he now held, tapping into its necromantic magic and making the dead all about Urshula rise from their everlasting sleep, but merely for a moment, as the great dracolich proceeded to destroy everything in sight, nearly killing the frenzied dwarf below her more than once.
Entreri looked up the edge to Jarlaxle, who stood there with the gem in his hand, magic flowing out of it like water from a raincloud. The bodies of the heroes that had ventured in with them stood upon the edge with the grinning drow, and Entreri joined him and stopped hacking at the beast on which he stood.
That was all Urshula needed.
The ancient black twisted its head around, a feat that it could have never pulled off in life, and blew the foul acid that it called breath upon the assassin.
So died Artemis Entreri, master assassin of Calimshan.
The sight remained in Jarlaxle's mind for quite awhile, and he looked down at the tombstone at his feet. The others who died in the replica of Castle Perilous were brought back to Bloodstone Village for a proper funeral.
No such thing for Artemis Entreri.
All that remained of him were his blade, dagger, and a few charred black bones that were buried beneath the simple stone that carried his name and his profession. No simple eulogy, no more words, just silence that only stone could deliver.
Jarlaxle fell upon his knees, a single tear falling from his eye and dripping onto the freshly overturned dirt. The soil absorbed the tear as quickly as a dog dying in the desert. Nothing else happened, nothing else as Jarlaxle removed the flamboyant hat he had always worn and placed it upon the fallen hero's grave.
Jarlaxle walked away, the sun beating down upon his head.
Jarlaxle continued his long walk back to the half-orc town of Palischuk, when he noticed a lizard.
The reptile was a monstrous thing, around 2 feet long, including the tail, and the color of its scales was mottled, black and orange patches in different areas.
Jarlaxle found a case of situational irony as the lizard had a small, yet deadly, spider climb up upon its back, and began to chew on the thing's neck. The lizard reacted immediately, using a self defense mechanism that shot blood from small pits under its eyes.
There was no effect as the blood splattered across the dry, cracked ground. The spider continued to feed.
The end seemed near for the lizard, when the reptile's tail swept across its back, taking the menace from its shoulders.
The lizard pounced on its dinner, a trickle of blood and possibly venom coming from its neck.
Jarlaxle sighed, and continued his walk, and was surprised when he saw a familiar hat flopping alongside him. The flamboyant green hat he had left upon Entreri's grave had was worn by Athrogate, his great bushy head of hair and the slight breeze working in conjunction to push the thing off his head, as if it was unwelcome.
The dwarf grinned up at the drow, "I am glad those fools are dead. I get the kill and this hat for me head! Bwahahaha!!!" Typical for the stupid creature.
This time, Jarlaxle Baenre did not let the rhyme amuse him. It just made something click inside the drow, unleashing his most basal of drow instincts.
His wrist snapped, a dagger popping into his hand. The dwarf was about 10 feet away, still laughing when Jarlaxle let fly.
The dwarf was dead in an instant, but that wasn't enough.
Jarlaxle pounced upon the dead dwarf, unleashing all the fury that could be pent up within that elfin frame. The drow stabbed at the dwarf's eyes, slashed open his throat, and made him a crown of his magical daggers, leaving them there, not even bothering to remove them.
When Jarlaxle stood, his hat in hand, the dwarf's face and head resembled only a husk of what it was. Jarlaxle could almost hear "I think he actually looks better like that," from Artemis' glib tone, but the assassin was dead, and could not see and appreciate the macabre work of art.
Jarlaxle walked back to the grave, and replaced the hat where it belonged, not even bothering to remove the ditryama feather or the magical paradimensional hole that disguised itself as a scrap of cloth.
Jarlaxle walked away, the sun beating down upon his onyx dome.