Chapter Two: Fancy Gibberish
Entreri saw the dagger darting towards him, saw the way the his adversary watched its flight and moved forward, his remaining saber held in a two-handed grip, every bit the professional, never underestimating his opponent.
And Drasek Riven was right in doing so for Artemis Entreri wasn't one to die so easily.
Entreri stepped forward and leaned to the right, taking the dagger in the shoulder. It was a daring move and one that few could bring themselves to do, actually stepping in to a knife's path, and one that caught even Drasek Riven by surprise.
Clamping his jeweled dagger between his teeth Entreri tore the dagger from his shoulder and snapped his wrist, sending it spinning towards Drasek. Riven slapped it away with the flat of his blade, never slowing.
Returning his jeweled dagger to its rightful place Entreri parried Riven's downward swing with Charon's Claw, filling the alley once more with the sound of Clashing steel.
Before Entreri could hope plant his dagger in the Zhent's stomach Riven broke off, backing out of range and charged forward again with heart-stopping speed.
Turning his wrist to the right Riven closed with Artemis and swung his saber, right-to-left. Throwing his hips out wide Entreri managed to avoid the brunt of the blow but couldn't completely avoid the attack as the saber ripped through the flesh of his abdomen.
Tightening his grip on Charon's claw he punched out with his sword arm, connecting solidly upside Riven's temple. The assassin stumbled to the left, his eyes widening and vision blurry and Artemis took advantage.
Bracing himself Entreri brought his knee up hard, connecting with Riven's nose, hearing a satisfying crunch. Riven spat blood and found himself up against the alley's wall, his guard open.
And Entreri's Jeweled dagger came in hard, aiming for the Zhent's heart, none who lifted a blade against Artemis Entreri could survive.
Unfortunately for Entreri, it took more than that to kill Drasek Riven.
Through gritted teeth Riven muttered a curse and brought his fist up in an uppercut, Screwing with Entreri's aim.
The blade sank hilt deep into Riven's lower abdomen, and through that wound Entreri drank Riven's life energy, clearing the bruises from earlier and closing the wound in his shoulder.
And words of vile darkness poured forth from Riven's mouth even as he grabbed Entreri's wrist and pulled the dagger free.
Artemis' eyes crossed, his head swam with pain while his stomach's contents turned. Acting on instinct he pushed his adversary away and turned his formidable mental abilities on quelling the pain and light-headedness that that rushed through his body.
And it worked. "I'll ask this only once," Said Artemis, his voice strong "Who are you?"
His adversary grunted and withdrew a small stone from a pouch at his belt. "Riven." Answered the killer. "Drasek Riven, formerly of the Black Network and chosen of the Shadowlord, second of five."
"Mask?" Questioned Artemis with a frown, how could the man sound so confident with a wound like that one?
"Indeed." Riven spoke a word of power, causing the stone in his hand to glow with energy that in turn grew to envelop his body.
When the light disappeared and Riven was once more visible Entreri couldn't keep the curse from his lips.
The stab would in Riven's abdomen had disappeared as did the break in his nose in the wake of what must have been a powerful healing spell.
"Dark and empty." Cursed Stance, a profanity he had learned of in his travels.
The road before them, Heart's Widow Avenue was lined with tall cedars with a single, working class tavern bordering it. The Knight's stallion, was a quaint two-story building built entirely from stone, it had a pleasant reputation as a watering hole, it's skilled team of bouncers, all of them ex-soldiers kept bar fights to a minimum.
It was also one of Dwahvel's favorite spots for gathering information, few knew it but the tavern's owner, Ronald Nightlight was a close friend of hers and a spy for the Copper Ante and a former member of the same adventuring company that Stance had worked for.
The Knight's Stallion was also the inn that Boris' target group had been staying at.
Dwahvel pushed open the door to the inn and frowned when she came upon drawn steel. Two dark haired human men holding wide-bladed Khopesh and wearing the garb of a bouncer stood at the ready, small bloody wounds covering their forms stood before her.
"What's the meaning of this?" Asked Dwahvel in a calm level voice glancing at the steel pointed towards her with detached annoyance.
A white clad dwarf appeared behind the bouncers before they could hope to answer her. "Why don't you tell me?" The dwarf put a hand to the broadsword at his hip and looked at her from beneath bushy black eyebrows.
Ronald Nightlight was the epitome of fitness, his shoulders were broad, even for a dwarf, but his body narrowed towards his hips, only half the width of his chest. His black beard hung halfway down his chest and, Dwahvel noted, was covered in blood.
"What do you mean?" Asked the halfling, noting the way Stance's hand inched closer to his wife's short sword.
"You kno' what I mean!" Yelled the dwarf angrily, "Boris!"
Stance asked "What about him? Do you know what happened to him?"
"Do I kno' what hap…" The dwarf's jaw tightened with rage. "I'll tell you what happened to him! Fool halfling comes in here and sits for a spell, all calm and the like making a little conversation with these two guys, foreigners from the looks of them." Dwahvel and Stance looked at each other. "And than once they leave, go up to their room, the ass signals to one of my lass', figure he's going to order another drink or some such." Ron's fist tightened. "But what's he do, he stabs her in the guts is what he do!"
Dwahvel felt a headache coming on. "Your certain?"
"Hell yeah I am." Roared the tavern master. "And than when my Bouncers draw on him, to arrest him and the like, he whips out those swords of his and sets to work." Stance gasped. "And you know as well as I, how skilled that little chump is, I had to take him myself. Opened his stomach from left to right I did."
Dwahvel didn't doubt it, she knew Boris to be skilled with his blades, knew him to be one of the best, but she knew better still that Ron was better. "So he's dead?"
"Don't kno'" Answered Nightlight, "He said some fancy gibberish and disappeared, I'll tell you what though, he won't survive long with his insides hanging out of him like that."
"Fancy gibberish?" Asked Stance.
"Boris doesn't know magic, nor does he possess anything that could teleport him like that."
"So that means that…"
"That those strangers, most likely the targets, most have given it to him."
"Along with a charm spell perhaps?" Questioned Stance.
Dwahvel nodded.
"Fool halfling." Muttered the priest. "All he does the entire conversation is brag about his talents with the blade and what does he do?" Asked the priest, more to himself than to his partner. "He returns to us on the verge of death forcing me to waste a healing spell."
"Quiet yourself fool." Boris Blooddagger replied. "You yourself advised me against showing them my full abilities."
"Oh so its my fault is it?" Asked the priest of Bane incredulously, "Well you'll have to forgive me if I don't recall telling you to get cut open like that!"
"If I had transformed our cover would've been blown."
"If you'd of transformed no one would be alive to tell the story!" Retorted Kalzu of Bane. He was a little man, his black and green robes seemed far too large for his scrawny frame, as if he was trying to compensate. His salt and pepper hair was kept militaristically short, a reminder of his station as a war priest.
Boris grinned, few men believed him when he told them of his lineage; he more resembled a short dwarf than he did a halfling. Covering his massive frame was a simple blue and yellow shirt paired with a pair of black leggings, at his belt he wore a pair of custom short swords made specifically for him and enchanted by his wizard companion. A single ring, an emerald set in its center, adorned his left hand, the same ring he had used to teleport from. Peering out from beneath his shaggy brown hair his green eyes sparkled with malicious intent.
"Both of you, "Said a third voice. "Shut up."
Cordwin Callen was a somber man, the sleeves of his black tunic came down to the middle of his palm where the hem widened, and his white breeches were loose and covered in pockets. His sinister cloak trailed behind him as he walked towards the bickering duo.
His ear length dark brown hair was clean and well kept, his eyes were of the same shade but his gaze carried something more with it, wickedness flowed within the confines of those caramel colored orbs.
"You dare?" Asked Kalzu in a high-pitched and supremely arrogant voice. "You dare to so disrespect me, Kalzu the emerald?"
Boris took a step back, not from Kalzu but from Cordwin.
"Indeed." The wizard's gaze locked upon the priest, Kalzu mimicked the halfling, backing away from the malicious wizard. "Do you have a problem with that Kalzu the foolish?"
"I…I demand respect from my allies." Kalzu straightened his back, swallowed, bit his lip and looked Callen in the eye.
"Than you demand nothing from me." Answered Cordwin 'The Blue Devil' Callen. "We are not allies, I am a wizard." He pointed to himself, "And you," He than pointed to Kalzu "are a priest of a god who I turned my back upon. We are mutual acquaintances using each other as well as we can. "
"You bonded with a devil yes," Answered Kalzu his posture confident and eyes calm, "You killed the lich Damacarus Drezz, a powerful wizard and ally of the Zhentarim, yes." Kalzu surprised Boris by stepping forward. "But you are a fool if you truly believe that Bane is done with you."
Cordwin didn't flinch. "Step back."
The priest did so.
Callen spun on his heel and walked on towards the group's destination. Boris looked after him with sincere surprise in his eyes, the wizard should have killed Kalzu, he had done just that to greater men and woman before.
Boris looked up at Kalzu and found the man staring after Cordwin; his eyes wide with fear and his posture slumped. It was only than that he realized the source of Kalzu's bravery he had been divinely inspired.
And Callen knew it.
Entreri and Riven circled each other each weighing the other's skills and abilities.
Entreri was the better swordsmen that much was now proven but the Zhent still had the advantage of that vile language of his, whatever it might be.
So the question that faced them both was this, could Entreri still beat him as Riven spoke those words of power? Could Riven hold off Entreri's assault long enough for him to seize the win with only one saber?
Neither knew the answer.
And Artemis Entreri knew he wouldn't be getting his answer as he felt another presence materialize behind him and cold steel at his neck.
"Now I'll only ask this once," Said the cold, shadow filled voice of Erevis Cale, "Who are you and what is the meaning of this?"