Erevis Cale smiled, something's never changed it would seem, no matter the location.
The Silver Dagger, a tavern of disputable reputation, was crawling with would be adventures, most of which, Cale assumed, would end up as merchant guards. The youth of the tavern stepped with the self-assured swagger of untested youth, their hands resting uncomfortably near to their weapons.
To his left he heard Riven snicker as a hot-headed adolescent thought to draw steel on his gambling partner, a heavily armored dwarf whose heavy mace seemed to appear in hand before the human's blade was halfway out its sheathe.
The would-be adventurer hit the floor soon after, two minutes top.
"Damn itchies." Muttered the red-cloaked assassin displeasingly. The assassin's hands rested at his side, perfectly at ease, Riven knew the level of his abilities and he knew that walking around with hands on hilts would be more of a discomfort than help if battle were to breakout.
"Agreed." Said Erevis thinking to see if the youth was alright, a thought that was slain as a Tymoran priest rushed over to the boy. "The first rule of bar fighting—"
"Stay the hells away from the dwarf." Finished Riven who knew well the battle prowess of the stout folk, though he did not fear it he was not fool enough to underestimate it.
The duo spotted an empty table towards the corner of the room and silently made their way to it, avoiding the rest of the crowd.
An elf clad in the robes of a wizard and his fire gensai companion wearing a broad sword at her hip, stepped forward to intercept them. "This is our table friends, you'll have to find another."
"Really?" Inquired Riven smiling sinisterly. "I don't believe your being completely honest, do you?" The female fire gensai stepped forward, looking the assassin up and down. "Nay, I think you should leave this table to us."
The elf chuckled, "Do you now?" He looked at his companion and gave her a nod when she turned to regard her cohort.
Seeing his nod she grinned and snapped her wrist, drawing a dagger hidden within her sleeve, and turned around in a reddish blur aiming her knife for Riven's throat. The attack was quick, quicker than the assassin had expected, but he was faster still.
Drasek Riven dropped down into a practiced crouch, the dagger whizzed right over his head causing the gensai to widen her base to compensate for the sudden switch in momentum. Riven drew a dagger from his boot and came to his feet before the trailing end of his cloak even touched the carpet.
Bringing the pommel of the dagger up hard he struck her underneath the jaw throwing her further off balance. He finished by kicking out her wide spread feet causing her to tumble backwards, grabbing the front of her tunic to hold her up with her legs still out from underneath her and slammed his dagger's pommel up against the side of her skull.
She fell without a sound.
At the same moment that the gensai had drawn her dagger the wizard had unsheathed a wand from his belt and loosed a greenish bolt of necromantic energy at the shade with a word. But that single word was still long enough for Erevis Cale to unsheathe his magical sword of black steel, Weaveshear and bring it around to intercept the attack.
The blade vibrated in his hand as the blade caught and absorbed the spell, Cale smiled, the elf paled. Leveling the sword he freed the spell from its steel prison, throwing it right back at the caster.
The elf gasped and fell to his knees as the spell struck, his face peeling as if a piece of his soul had been torn from his heart, which, Cale suspected, might not be to far from the truth.
The gasping elf looked up with fear filled eyes as Cale forcibly lifted his chin with Weaveshear's tip, "Leave." Commanded the priest of Mask.
"And take your friend with you." Added Riven throwing the downed gensai at his feet, "She'll be up and about in an hour or so."
The elf did as he was told and scampered away on wobbly legs, struggling to support his broader more muscular companion.
The dwarf with the mace who had knocked out the youth yelled from across the room in a jovial voice. "Impressive!" Those who had seen the battle clapped. "A bad situation well handled, and I can't say I didn't enjoy the look in the elf's eyes."
"Aye, a honey mead for the both of ye." Said the bartender. "On the house."
An hour later Drasek Riven found himself very uncomfortable.
The dwarf from earlier, the priest who had tended the fallen youth and a bramble of others had gathered around them, asking questions, telling stories, and asking more questions. And Drasek Riven wasn't the social type.
And so it was that when he finally became aware of the shadowy figure peering at him stealthily between sips of his drink, honey mead like their own, he was almost relieved.
Riven smiled and waved.
The man nodded towards the door.
Riven nodded back.
"I'll be back." Informed Riven as he rose from his seat. "I've a few errands I have to run."
A few more muttered courtesies to those gathered and Riven turned to leave, flashing a single sign in thieves cant meaning simply 'watcher'.
Artemis Entreri couldn't help but be surprised by how easily he'd been spotted, never before, not since his first days as a hunter of men, had that happened.
But Artemis Entreri knew how to improvise and was already formulating a cover story by the time he exited the door. He was a member of the guard assigned to watch that tavern, to make sure nothing illegal happened, and, when circumstance provided, to accept bribes.
It was a solid story one that Entreri knew to leave him enough wiggling room if something unexpected were to come about.
He turned towards the sound of his approaching prey, the one known as Drasek Riven, with a smile.
And met him in a clash of steel.
Entreri saw the glint of drawn steel out of the corner of his eye as he turned to speak to the mysterious visitor. The man was no more than six feet from him sabers raised for the kill when Artemis noticed him, and still he managed to draw both his blades and meet the man in a X parry, so fast was he.
"I don't want to fight you." Said Entreri breaking off and giving himself room to move, Charon's Claw held low for a sweeping parry while his dagger sat parallel with his hip, ready to thrust forward.
"Of course you don't Artemis Entreri." Said his adversary, surprising Artemis with the use of his name. "No one wishes to die."
Artemis settled down into a ready crouch, muscles tense. "You know not who you face Zhent." Answered the killer.
"I face a man whose abilities with the sword struck fear into even the highest operatives of the black network." Growled Riven. "You don't remember me do you?" Entreri shook his head. "Good, than you can take that question to the grave."
Riven charged. Entreri shook his head.
Clearing the last foot between them with a quick leap Riven came in with his left saber coming in hard and fast, its point aimed for his belly. Entreri brought Charon's claw up in a diagonal parry, knocking the saber high. But even as Riven's feet touched the ground he was reversing his momentum into a hard right spin, swerving out of the way of Entreri's infamous dagger while at the same time bringing his right saber around in hard swing.
Entreri ducked under the blow and with his sword up high and his dagger out to the right and than did the only thing he could, he brought his sword arm around in a circle putting his magical sword out behind him, tucked his shoulder and slammed into Riven's midsection.
The red cloaked slayer hit the ground on the upper portion of his back and used his momentum to come right back to his feet, his left foot connect solidly with Entreri's jaw as he thought to charge the downed man.
Entreri spat, saw no blood and charged again.
He came in fast, swinging his weapons in a blur of motion so fast that he suspected that even Drizzt would've been off balance guarding himself from it.
As it was Riven caught both of his blades in the crook of his upraised X parry, just as Artemis had hoped he would. Using his shade infused strength the Calimport assassin forced the smaller assassin back finally swerving to put Drasek's back against the side of the ally.
If Riven was troubled he didn't show it as he used the leverage provided by the wall to bring his feet up slam them against Entreri's midsection.
Entreri's leathers absorbed the brunt of the blow but still he felt his muscles protest the kick and was forced to stagger back a few steps.
Still he smiled, true he had yet to connect a blow, true this Drasek Riven character had landed two but Entreri had him right where he wanted now, up against the wall.
Dwahvel could feel Stance peering at her back as she stared out the window of her office.
Boris still hadn't yet returned, he was two hours late; 'late' was a word few would apply to the stout halfling. Dwahvel quietly pondered these thoughts, despite Stance's presence she felt completely comfortable.
Her trusted lieutenant had become a common sight around her office, he was dependable, clever, slow to rush to judgment but able to think on his feet. The brunette halfling liked the man, if it hadn't been for her knowledge of Stance's recently departed wife, slain by slavers, she might've allowed herself to grow closer.
The guild leader had met few men in her life that she had found attractive, not in face or in body; they were all to common, but in mind. Dwahvel was a lady of intellect, not of vanity she cared more for a clever turn of phrase than she did a chiseled jaw line.
"Stance." Said the halfling, "Gather your things, we're going to find Boris."
"Yes ma'am." The priest offered a brief bow. "Should I send someone to check in on Artemis as well? He was do back twenty minutes ago."
"I know." Dwahvel turned to face him. "But fear not for the life of Artemis Entreri, he's harder to kill than you seem to realize."
"He has powerful enemies." Countered her lieutenant.
Dwahvel looked at him and shook her head smiling. "Listen well to these next few words my friend." Stance leaned forward. "Only the dead underestimate the likes of Artemis Entreri."
"Why the dead?"
"Because they've no life left to lose."
The look on her face told Stance all he needed to know of the measure of Artemis Entreri.
Charon's Claw came in hard with a wide sweeping cut.
Drasek Riven could've dodged to the left but knew that that was what his adversary more than likely expected so instead he parried his stronger foe's sword with his right saber. The two blades collided in an explosion of sparks and a force that would've ripped Riven's defending saber from his hand had he not rolled his wrist with the parry.
Entreri's infamous dagger came in than thrusting for his gut Riven brought his sword in close slapping it aside. The Zhent thought to get inside the Calimport assassin's guard by bringing his right saber up in a vertical slash right that would land underneath Artemis' underarm.
But Entreri had expected the simple counter and launched into an unorthodox spin, bringing his dagger around in a circle fast enough to stop the deadly weapon.
And than came Charon's Claw from the left, racing towards Riven's head. The red-cloaked swordsman only just managed to bring his left saber up in time to stop the blow, its red-black blade slamming hard against its basket hilt.
The force of the blow threw Riven's arm back, rendering it, if only for a second, unable to offer a decisive parry. Knowing full well that if he went for the kill that his adversary would just throw himself to the still open side and dodge the attack.
So instead he swung for the saber's midsection. The jeweled dagger hit the weapon hard, forcing Riven to compensate by leaning to the left, the direction of the swinging dagger.
Drasek Riven thought to come back with a quick vertical slash when Entreri stopped his spin and set his feet, but Entreri didn't stop his spin.
Instead he came around with a low kick to the shin, dropping Riven to the street floor. Still Riven quickly improvised and began to roll away before Artemis' blades could reach his flesh, but not his boot.
Entreri stomped down hard on the trailing blade of Riven's left hand saber, forcing him to let go as he rolled away.
Entreri kicked the blade out behind him, thinking the battle almost won.
Riven recovered quickly coming to his feet in a deadly crouch, his feet spread wide. And faster than Entreri could've expected, faster than Entreri could have done himself, a dagger appeared in Riven's free hand.
And in the next heartbeat it was racing towards the assassin of Calimport.
Dwahvel tightened the last buckle of her gray leather armor, tightened the last strap and put on her poker face. At her stout black belt she wore an unadorned short sword and her customary daggers, each of them perfectly balanced. She wore knee high; soft-soled boots and black leggings, to top it off she threw a green tabard over the leathers.
When she looked in the mirror next to her she knew she was ready, no longer did she appear the kindly, harmless guildmaster, nay, far from. Her hair was up in a bun to keep it out of her face if she needed to fight, her cherubic cheeks seemed leaner than they ever had before in the dresses she typically favored. And her eyes were no longer the twin pools of warmth that the guild new, but the cold, sharp, calculating daggers of a woman who had made her way through life with her wits and, when necessary, her blades.
She appeared the equal of any rouge on the Calimport streets now; in truth she was the better of many.
Out of the corner of the mirror she spied Stance, fully suited in leather, his traditional dagger, the one normally worn at his hip, shoved into his boot replaced by an ornate looking short sword. Her eyebrow arched at that, in all time that she had known the priest she had never seen him take the sword, The Queen Of Diamonds, from its display in his room.
When she turned to face him he smiled kindly, "It was my wife's." Explained the priest.
"Why use it now?" Asked the guild leader.
"Well." Stance began, "I got to thinking, my wife…she was a warrior." He paused. "She loved battle, she enjoyed it some might even say to much."
"And?" Dwahvel inquired.
"She wouldn't want it sitting in some glass case on display." He ran his hand over the hilt of the weapon tenderly. "She would want its blade to continue its journey, wherever it might end up." The priest ran his finger beneath his eye, wiping away the tear that had blossomed there. "Even if I do die, and I do lose the sword, well…that's okay. That just means that one day someone else will swing it in defense of the right."
"You made a good decision." Her voice was soft, in a motherly manner almost.
Stance shook his head violently, "But come." Said he. "We've things to do, Boris might be in trouble."