Marandici Caravan: 6 Desnus, 4742
At the Varisian caravan a man pushed his way past the screen of bushes before the campsite. He was a short man, with broad shoulders tapering to lean hips and powerful legs, and was dressed in browns and greens. Hooded, his face was covered by a shaped mask of leather. He moved like a dancer, yet there was something barbaric there: a primordial element that was both lethal and beautiful. He was wary, his bright golden eyes flickering to every bush and every shadow-haunted tree.
When he saw the soldiers, he paused only for a moment, his fingers flexing as he read the situation.
They were four men that wore white shirts with red embroidered vests and trousers. Though they dressed like roving Varisians, their clothing was far too neat and clean, indicating a degree of discipline that people of the caravan should not have possessed.
Each man was armed with short stabbing swords, weapons that were easy to maintain and, more importantly, required little skill to use. He carried no weapons. The odds of successfully defeating each of them without attracting further attention would be significantly against him. The man smiled beneath his mask.
He liked those odds.
"Lord Draxas sure knows his stuff," said Bastian. "Hooking up with the wagon folk was a genius move."
The others shook their heads, struggling to hide their mirth, even as they were finishing up a hand of Towers. "What? What's so funny."
Ancrym, a bald, tall and powerfully built man of obvious Shoanti stock, looked over at his friend. "What's so genius about it? Everybody knows that their caravans travel everywhere with no particular destination in mind. Why?"
" 'Because the journey is the purpose.' " The words were spoken by all in unison. How many times had they heard the wagon drivers say those very words?
"They're crafty, these Varisians." Ancrym, Bastian, and the third soldier turned to regard the fourth amongst them, a veteran from the nation of Taldor who rarely spoke. "Taking a route based solely on the sighting a falling star? Madness. And yet there is method to what they do."
"Yeah, and Lord Draxas knows it," Bastian agreed. "The caravans are among the few things that the cultists leave alone."
The third soldier, who had sat quietly listening to his comrades, now stood up, his eyes darting all about the area. Like Ancrym, he too was Shoanti.
"Tanrov, is something wrong?" Ancrym asked even as a hand dropped to the sword he wore. The others did the same, also looking around them.
"He senses me?" The masked man was impressed, but he knew that he could not afford to let the soldiers find him. If he was going to act, it would have to be now.
He exploded from his hiding place, bearing down on the two Lyrune-Quah, or Moon Clan, Shoanti. He knew that if they were anything like the other Shoanti tribesmen he had encountered before, these two would be the most dangerous hand-to-hand combatants. His hand flashed out and up, fingers extended, smashing Bastian's nose. The thin cartilage sliced into his brain and he dropped without a sound. The masked man then whirled and leapt, a booted foot hammering into the throat of the second Lyrune-Quah man. Even as he landed on the balls of his feet, he parried a thrust from Ancrym's now drawn sword and delivered a punch that hit his throat knuckles first, then followed through with a second hit with the rest of his fist in the space of a second, crushing the larynx.
The Taldan was beginning to run from the masked man, his intention quite clear. He could not be allowed to raise the alarm. He kicked up the sword of the fallen Ancrym, caught it, and in one fluid motion hurled the weapon with all of his might, catching the Taldan hilt first in the back of the head. Unbalanced, the soldier fell face first into the dirt. The masked man ran forward as he was beginning to rise and threw himself on the man's back, and caused him to pitch forward once again. The masked man grabbed the Taldoran's hair, tugging the head back, then took hold of the man's chin and wrenched it to the left. His neck snapped like dry wood.
"Now to find Lord Draxas."
"Don't bother, demon. If you want to see him so badly, we'll be more than happy to take you him."
The masked man looked about him and saw several Varisians, all armed with crossbows pointed at him. He rose slowly from his kill, hands raised. He shrugged nonchalantly. He had played the odds and lost. But it seemed that he was still going to get his wish. Perhaps things would balance out so that he would break even.
"Lead on," he said.
Sirathu: 6 Desnus, 4742
The head of Lavitz's spear drove into the ground, narrowly missing the barely visible head of the totenmaske. The holy knight grunted, both from the effort of the attack and from the frustration he was feeling. He wanted to help his friend and comrade, but the totenmaske was making that task a difficult one. By remaining partially in the ground it was hard enough to hit. Add the fact that the creature had Naqam by the ankles and that added an unwanted degree of difficulty to the situation. One false move from either Xein or himself and they could very well end up killing their companion.
He spared a glance over at Xein, who also seemed at a loss as to what he could do. But then a curious gleam lit the Chelaxian's eyes as he dismissed his weapons and motioned for Lavitz to move aside. Confused, but willing to give Xein a chance, the Andoren did as he was asked, though he kept his spear at the ready in the event that whatever Xein was planning did not succeed.
When Lavitz had backed away, Xein began to make motions in the air before him, gestures that seem to gather in to himself powerful arcane energy. He was performing some kind of invocation, that much was obvious but which one? As far as the holy knight knew, with the exception of the ones he used to enhance his blades, the majority of his invocations would be of no benefit to them now.
Suddenly, the night air shattered with a shriek of sorrow as a flash of flame briefly limned Xein's form. His mouth began to expand, growing to accomodate dripping fangs that had not been there before. His body began to shudder and spasm, contorting into all manner of unnatural positions, even as his flesh began to bubble and boil until finally there was a wet ripping sound as a pair of red leathery wings and a long whiplike tail broke free from his back, unfurling almost if in triumph.
Marandici Caravan: 6 Desnus, 4742
"Lord Draxas, you have visitors."
"Show them in, Syeira."
The leader of the Knights of the Sihedron stood from his seat to meet his guests. He did not have long to wait.
A short masked man was shoved roughly into his tent, followed by two Marandici armed with crossbows.
"What is this?"
"This assassin was caught within the camp, after killing four of your men," said one of the Varisians. " We brought him to you as per Madame Zellara's request. Deal with him as you will."
"My thanks. Rest assured this matter will be dealt with quickly."
The spokesman nodded and turned to leave. "I will inform Madam Zellara."
When the two men had gone, Draxas walked over to the masked man, eyeing him warily. "Who are you? I can only assume that you're here to kill me."
The masked man merely shrugged, a move that serverd to anger Draxas.
"If you will not speak to me, then perhaps you will talk to someone else. Syeira!"
The guard's head poked in through the tent's flap. "Yes, lord?"
"Send for Reise."
At the mention of that name, the masked man's attitude changed. "Reise. The Spherewalker? She serves you?"
The man's abrupt change in demeanor at the mention of the priestess caught Draxas by surprise. "A Desnan serves only the goddess and the world," said the lord of Fort Rannick. "We merely work together toward the same end. How is it that you know of her?"
"He knows me because he trained me."
Both Draxas and the masked man turned to face the speaker that stood framed within the opening of the flap. Reise entered fully into the tent, her face calm as she approached to within an arm's length of the masked man and bowed slightly at the waist, hands held together in prayer fashion directly over her heart. "Draxas, I present to you my teacher: Master Guan ir'Shen."
Sirathu: 6 Desnus, 4742
Lavitz watched in horror, gripping his spear tightly as the pit fiend within Xein seemed to be exercising its influence upon the young man. The holy knight readied himself to do what he must in the event that Xein lost this battle of wills. He knew that the abilities Xein possessed varied in power by degrees, much like a wizards' spells or Naqam's expressions. The least and lesser invocations did little to test his skills but the more powerful ones, the greater and dark invocations, placed a severe strain upon both his body and mind, straining his control to its very limits.
The Xein/pit fiend shot a baleful look at the holy knight, who now stood enveloped within a golden glow. "Knight of the Golden Fire," it bellowed, wrapping its wings about itself as though it were some kind of living cloak. "Spawn of Shadow. I know who you are. There are many of my kind that are eager to see you dead and your soul harvested. But that right is reserved solely for me, Lavitz Kaisur."
"Yes, I imagine that you would if you could, Kuninin. But you can do nothing to me."
Xein/Kuninin smiled. "True enough. But you know as well as I that the runes that bind me to this human will not do so forever. And on the day that I gain my freedom..."
"On that day," Lavitz said, cutting off the fiend, "I will end your existence in this world and send you back to the Hells, my name forever a curse upon your lips. But that day can be a far off one for you. Release your hold on this scion of House Thrune and let him do what he set out to do." The fire surrounding the holy knight began to intensify, its strength increasing with each word that was spoken. "Or that day will be upon you much sooner than you would like."
"You would sacrifice his life to end mine?" Xein/Kuninin asked, a sneer curling its lips.
"I would do nothing of the sort. But do not think that you can simply leverage him against me for your own ends either. The only deal to be had here for you this night, Kuninin, is another reprieve from demotion due to your destruction by my hand."
Xein/Kuninin issued a low growl. Devils were afraid of few things, but all feared the shame of demotion. Failure was not an option in the Hells, that most ruthless and demanding of meritocracies. Fiends of his rank seldom went out to enforce pacts, but when they did success was usually guaranteed. As a pit fiend, Kuninin knew he had much to lose should he be made to return without this vessel's soul. A demotion for him had consequences that would unravel his own plans and ambitions.
He weighed his options and knew that the holy knight, this Knight of the Golden Fire, would not hesitate in destroying him and thus send Kuninin back to the Hells, something he was not ready to do. There would be no advantage in confronting him here. "You bargain well, Lavitz Kaisur. It pleases me to do as you ask." Kuninin flashed a most diabolical smile. "Perhaps your future lies in being an arbiter. I would be most willing to have you. Think about it. You know where you can reach me if you should decide to take up my most generous and gracious offer."
And with an evil laugh, the pit fiend withdrew back into Xein, its wings and tail falling away like so much cast-off skin to dissolve into nothing on the ground.
Lavitz's encounter with Kuninin seemed to play out over the course of minutes, but in reality it only lasted a fraction of that time. When he looked back at Xein, the Chelaxian was finishing up his invocation. His form discorporated, becoming a swarm of shadowy bats that filled the immediate area and beyond. The holy knight watched in awe as the flitting creatures swirled around the head and shoulders of the totenmaske, attacking it relentlessly until it released its grip upon Naqam, who collapsed to his hands and knees.
The totenmaske swatted and swiped at the dark cloud of bats one last time before descending into the ground. When it was gone, the swarm gathered itself together and reformed back into Xein. Lavitz made his way over to Naqam, his armor retreating from his form as he went. Once at his friend's side, the holy knight produced three metal vials of potion. In addition to eliminating the effects of exhaustion when drank, the contents could restore small amounts of life energy to the imbiber. He immediately opened one and poured its contents into Naqam's mouth.
"My thanks to you, friend," he said gratefully, the lines of exhaustion on his face fading. "I should have been more aware of my surroundings than that."
"No thanks are necessary, Naqam. And you could not have anticipated where that thing was, so there is no need to chastise yourself about what happened tonight."
"But you knew, sohei."
"True enough, but not until it was too late. If there is any blame to had, then let it be shared by us both."
At that the Osirian chuckled. "I will meditate upon your words. You should have been a Korvosan arbiter, sohei."
Lavitz's face hardened. "That is the second time this night the word 'arbiter' has been used in regard to myself. It troubles me greatly."
A curious look crossed Naqam's face, but before the Andoren could speak further, Xein was standing over them. "Is he well?"
"Well enough that we may continue about our quest, Brother Xein." Refusing any assistance, the warrior-mystic rose to his feet. He glanced back at the holy knight, who also rose from where he knelt. Without speaking, his message was conveyed in that simple look: their talk was not yet done.
"No, we are done here." Lavitz looked over both men as he spoke. "We were sent to ascertain the condition of this place. Let us return to Lord Draxas and inform him of what we have seen."
The two men nodded and began to walk away. Lavitz placed a hand upon Xein's shoulder, stopping him. When he turned to face the holy knight, he saw a concerned look upon his face. "Yes, Sir Kaisur?"
"I just wanted to say that you did well tonight. A most clever use of your capabilities."
The compliment, though appreciated, was most unexpected. The Chelaxian was at a loss for words. Why then that look of worry upon his face? He accepted the congratulations with the hope that it would alleviate his own concerns.
But it did not.