((This is about my
rogue, Tylirel. It was one of those weird things where the story just
burst in my brain and had to come out NOW.))
The Conjury was a large circular room with several worktables set up near the middle. On each of the tables, alchemy equipment hissed and bubbled as the two forsaken apothecaries looked over their work with care. They muttered in gutterspeak to each other, the two hunched and cowled forms cutting sinister silhouettes in the torch-lit room.
On two opposite ends of the Conjury, armored guards stood at attention, their eyes fixed on the five cages that were sitting near the worktables. Within each cage a rather pathetic looking Sin'dorei prisoner sat, or in some cases slumped, on the stone floor. Their clothing was made of fine materials, but tattered and worn as if they had been roughly handled. Two of them wept openly as they watched the apothecaries at work, the rest sitting in sullen silence, awaiting what was to come.
An older Sin'dorei walked through one of the two entry doors, a smile on his face as he looked over the caged prisoners and the bubbling alchemy equipment. His red magister's robes swirled around him as he came to a stop near one of the tables, studying the experiment there with a practiced eye. One of the apothecaries nodded at him and he smiled, pausing to speak in unfamiliar orcish.
"Are your elixirs prepared then?" he looked back to the vicious liquids bubbling before him as he spoke.
"As you requested Magister Summersky, the elixirs are prepared," one of the apothecaries responded. "The strain of plague we've selected will be virtually undetectable, and should result in massive fatalities once the infected victims interact with others."
The Magister grinned viciously as he took in the news, "And the potions to dull their wits and force their compliance with our plans?"
The other apothecary laughed and held up a vial of hissing liquid. "Easily done."
Magister Summersky nodded and looked at the prisoners in their cages. Each was a servant of House Dayfire, taken by his agents while performing tasks in the city within the last day. Each would be infected, and sent back to Dayfire Spire to poison the rest of Biara Dayfire's people, killing hundreds of them and weakening her hold on her powerbase. She had insulted him for the last time, and now House Dayfire's guards and servants would perish in huge numbers to satisfy his honor.
It was as he turned around to give further instructions to the apothecaries that the attack began. It went almost unnoticed at first as a guard by the door was soundly struck in the back of the head with a weighted sap. He stumbled into the doorframe, stars in his vision as the second guard near him gurgled, his throat neatly slashed open and his lifeblood spilling to the floor.
In a second, a slender Sin'dorei female had appeared between them, her form fitting black leather armor making her blend with the shadows of the doorway. The guard that had been struck in the head was executed with a neat stab through the base of his ribs and into his heart, and he slumped to the floor silently.
Magister Summersky blinked in shock as the guards at the far doorway raced into the room, weapons drawn from sheaths in an instant. Time seemed to speed up as the battle began.
********************
The first guards meant nothing to her. They had been a free kill, a mere obstacle to overcome on her way here. It was the now alerted enemies in the room that drew all of Tylirel's attention. Her eyes blazed as she studied the two approaching fighters. Both had longswords, their momentum propelling them across the conjury at high speed.
I was once a hand of Kael'thas, trained to slaughter any that defied the Prince. I am a weapon, an object of death to those who stand before me. I fear no blades.
The guards stumbled to a halt as Tylirel launched herself towards them, rolling to the side to confront one of the two directly. He swung at her and she leapt up into the air. For one stunned second the Sin'dorei believed that his foe had actually landed ON his extended blade before one of her finely crafted leather boots took him in the face and hurled him to the ground.
As she landed, Tylirel crouched low, letting the second guard's sword swing over her head, narrowly missing her blonde ponytail as she hurled herself back up. Her tiny body slammed into his and he gasped as he looked into her eyes, a foot of dagger punched deep into his ribcage. He saw nothing in her expression as she twisted the knife and ended his heartbeat.
The guard fell away and Tylirel crouched, slashing the fallen Sin'dorei's throat before moving towards the center of the room. Magister Summersky pointed at her, chanting as fire magic built in the air around him.
I was trained by Biara Dayfire to hunt her enemies. I am more of a spellbreaker than any guards that walk this city. Where I go, no magic will touch me.
She touched one of her bracers and it flared with power, the wards on it surrounding her and enveloping her in shadowy magic. A fireball arced from the Magister's hands and flew towards her, disappearing within the cold embrace of the dark power that she cloaked herself in. She ran across the room faster than he thought possible, pausing only to throw a tiny packet of eye-burning powder in his face. He screamed and clawed at his eyes, blinded as she shoved him against one of the tables. Behind him, the apothecaries reached down to their tables, picking up bottles of elixirs and hurling them at the quickly approaching foe.
I was a reaver, a corsair, and a slave. There is no poison that has not touched me. There is no potion that can take my life.
She dove under a table as the bottles passed harmlessly over her head, slashing the legs out from under one of the apothecaries and ending his shrill cries by running a blade across his throat. As she rose up on the other side, the second apothecary tossed a vile elixir at her. Tylirel whirled, bringing her cloak up and absorbing the concoction in its fabric. The garment hissed and began to dissolve, but the apothecary's grin ended as a tossed knife from her wrist sheath took him in the throat.
As the forsaken fell to the ground, Tylirel turned and casually walked over to Magister Summersky, kicking his legs out from under him and kneeling on his chest with one knee. She planted one of her daggers firmly against his throat as he blinked through his tearing eyes at her.
"W-what do you w-want?!" he practically mewled.
She stared at him for a moment, her expression giving away none of the thoughts behind her eyes. Finally she decided to speak to him before putting an end to him. "Nothing."
"I-I'm a powerful Magister! I can give you g-gold! Powerful magical items! A-anything you want!" he stammered.
Tylirel studied him for a moment more and spoke in a deadly quiet voice. "There is a lesson to be learned here. Wealth, magic, followers, all of these things are worn as the trappings of power, but that is not what they are. They are merely tools of the powerful. True power, the only power that actually matters, is the ability to take life or grant mercy. It is that power that you lost the minute you had your minions shield you from the need to make such decisions. It is that power which I now hold. It is a shame that so many learn this lesson only in the last minute of their lives I think."
His eyes widened. "M-mercy! Have mercy!"
For the first time, Tylirel smiled, the beautiful expression on her face never reaching her dead fel-green eyes. "What do I look like, a priest?" Her dagger plunged into his neck, severing the artery.
She carefully cleaned her weapons on his robes as the pool of blood around him widened. Stepping over it carefully, she made her way to the cages, unlocking them one by one and freeing the Sin'dorei within. One of the males paused to look at her, his expression awed.
"Why did you do it? Why save us if you have no mercy?"
She looked at him, her face neutral again. "Because scum like that think they can use our people like pawns. They trade them back and forth, taking lives without care for our numbers, without concern about the real foes outside our walls. I did it because it needed to be done, even if I'm the only one who sees that."
He nodded, not really understanding. "Aren't you Lady Dayfire's personal assassin? Did she send you here?"
Tylirel barked out a short laugh. "Lady Dayfire...no, I came of my own accord. I am no longer employed directly by her. You might even say she works for me, in a way."
The other prisoners gathered around, looking about anxiously as the assassin spoke. Tylirel smiled again for a brief moment before bringing a finger to her lips. "Enough talk. You will follow me out of the door at the count of exactly twenty five. Come any sooner than that, and you die. Any later, and I leave you."
With those last words, she darted through one of the doorways. The freed prisoners heard a brief clash of steel on steel followed by a gurgling cry, and then the hallway was deathly silent again. They looked at each other, counting silently down the seconds.
The prisoners eventually made it to the streets of Silvermoon, a trail of murdered guards leading the way. They never saw the blonde-haired Sin'dorei again.
The Conjury was a large circular room with several worktables set up near the middle. On each of the tables, alchemy equipment hissed and bubbled as the two forsaken apothecaries looked over their work with care. They muttered in gutterspeak to each other, the two hunched and cowled forms cutting sinister silhouettes in the torch-lit room.
On two opposite ends of the Conjury, armored guards stood at attention, their eyes fixed on the five cages that were sitting near the worktables. Within each cage a rather pathetic looking Sin'dorei prisoner sat, or in some cases slumped, on the stone floor. Their clothing was made of fine materials, but tattered and worn as if they had been roughly handled. Two of them wept openly as they watched the apothecaries at work, the rest sitting in sullen silence, awaiting what was to come.
An older Sin'dorei walked through one of the two entry doors, a smile on his face as he looked over the caged prisoners and the bubbling alchemy equipment. His red magister's robes swirled around him as he came to a stop near one of the tables, studying the experiment there with a practiced eye. One of the apothecaries nodded at him and he smiled, pausing to speak in unfamiliar orcish.
"Are your elixirs prepared then?" he looked back to the vicious liquids bubbling before him as he spoke.
"As you requested Magister Summersky, the elixirs are prepared," one of the apothecaries responded. "The strain of plague we've selected will be virtually undetectable, and should result in massive fatalities once the infected victims interact with others."
The Magister grinned viciously as he took in the news, "And the potions to dull their wits and force their compliance with our plans?"
The other apothecary laughed and held up a vial of hissing liquid. "Easily done."
Magister Summersky nodded and looked at the prisoners in their cages. Each was a servant of House Dayfire, taken by his agents while performing tasks in the city within the last day. Each would be infected, and sent back to Dayfire Spire to poison the rest of Biara Dayfire's people, killing hundreds of them and weakening her hold on her powerbase. She had insulted him for the last time, and now House Dayfire's guards and servants would perish in huge numbers to satisfy his honor.
It was as he turned around to give further instructions to the apothecaries that the attack began. It went almost unnoticed at first as a guard by the door was soundly struck in the back of the head with a weighted sap. He stumbled into the doorframe, stars in his vision as the second guard near him gurgled, his throat neatly slashed open and his lifeblood spilling to the floor.
In a second, a slender Sin'dorei female had appeared between them, her form fitting black leather armor making her blend with the shadows of the doorway. The guard that had been struck in the head was executed with a neat stab through the base of his ribs and into his heart, and he slumped to the floor silently.
Magister Summersky blinked in shock as the guards at the far doorway raced into the room, weapons drawn from sheaths in an instant. Time seemed to speed up as the battle began.
********************
The first guards meant nothing to her. They had been a free kill, a mere obstacle to overcome on her way here. It was the now alerted enemies in the room that drew all of Tylirel's attention. Her eyes blazed as she studied the two approaching fighters. Both had longswords, their momentum propelling them across the conjury at high speed.
I was once a hand of Kael'thas, trained to slaughter any that defied the Prince. I am a weapon, an object of death to those who stand before me. I fear no blades.
The guards stumbled to a halt as Tylirel launched herself towards them, rolling to the side to confront one of the two directly. He swung at her and she leapt up into the air. For one stunned second the Sin'dorei believed that his foe had actually landed ON his extended blade before one of her finely crafted leather boots took him in the face and hurled him to the ground.
As she landed, Tylirel crouched low, letting the second guard's sword swing over her head, narrowly missing her blonde ponytail as she hurled herself back up. Her tiny body slammed into his and he gasped as he looked into her eyes, a foot of dagger punched deep into his ribcage. He saw nothing in her expression as she twisted the knife and ended his heartbeat.
The guard fell away and Tylirel crouched, slashing the fallen Sin'dorei's throat before moving towards the center of the room. Magister Summersky pointed at her, chanting as fire magic built in the air around him.
I was trained by Biara Dayfire to hunt her enemies. I am more of a spellbreaker than any guards that walk this city. Where I go, no magic will touch me.
She touched one of her bracers and it flared with power, the wards on it surrounding her and enveloping her in shadowy magic. A fireball arced from the Magister's hands and flew towards her, disappearing within the cold embrace of the dark power that she cloaked herself in. She ran across the room faster than he thought possible, pausing only to throw a tiny packet of eye-burning powder in his face. He screamed and clawed at his eyes, blinded as she shoved him against one of the tables. Behind him, the apothecaries reached down to their tables, picking up bottles of elixirs and hurling them at the quickly approaching foe.
I was a reaver, a corsair, and a slave. There is no poison that has not touched me. There is no potion that can take my life.
She dove under a table as the bottles passed harmlessly over her head, slashing the legs out from under one of the apothecaries and ending his shrill cries by running a blade across his throat. As she rose up on the other side, the second apothecary tossed a vile elixir at her. Tylirel whirled, bringing her cloak up and absorbing the concoction in its fabric. The garment hissed and began to dissolve, but the apothecary's grin ended as a tossed knife from her wrist sheath took him in the throat.
As the forsaken fell to the ground, Tylirel turned and casually walked over to Magister Summersky, kicking his legs out from under him and kneeling on his chest with one knee. She planted one of her daggers firmly against his throat as he blinked through his tearing eyes at her.
"W-what do you w-want?!" he practically mewled.
She stared at him for a moment, her expression giving away none of the thoughts behind her eyes. Finally she decided to speak to him before putting an end to him. "Nothing."
"I-I'm a powerful Magister! I can give you g-gold! Powerful magical items! A-anything you want!" he stammered.
Tylirel studied him for a moment more and spoke in a deadly quiet voice. "There is a lesson to be learned here. Wealth, magic, followers, all of these things are worn as the trappings of power, but that is not what they are. They are merely tools of the powerful. True power, the only power that actually matters, is the ability to take life or grant mercy. It is that power that you lost the minute you had your minions shield you from the need to make such decisions. It is that power which I now hold. It is a shame that so many learn this lesson only in the last minute of their lives I think."
His eyes widened. "M-mercy! Have mercy!"
For the first time, Tylirel smiled, the beautiful expression on her face never reaching her dead fel-green eyes. "What do I look like, a priest?" Her dagger plunged into his neck, severing the artery.
She carefully cleaned her weapons on his robes as the pool of blood around him widened. Stepping over it carefully, she made her way to the cages, unlocking them one by one and freeing the Sin'dorei within. One of the males paused to look at her, his expression awed.
"Why did you do it? Why save us if you have no mercy?"
She looked at him, her face neutral again. "Because scum like that think they can use our people like pawns. They trade them back and forth, taking lives without care for our numbers, without concern about the real foes outside our walls. I did it because it needed to be done, even if I'm the only one who sees that."
He nodded, not really understanding. "Aren't you Lady Dayfire's personal assassin? Did she send you here?"
Tylirel barked out a short laugh. "Lady Dayfire...no, I came of my own accord. I am no longer employed directly by her. You might even say she works for me, in a way."
The other prisoners gathered around, looking about anxiously as the assassin spoke. Tylirel smiled again for a brief moment before bringing a finger to her lips. "Enough talk. You will follow me out of the door at the count of exactly twenty five. Come any sooner than that, and you die. Any later, and I leave you."
With those last words, she darted through one of the doorways. The freed prisoners heard a brief clash of steel on steel followed by a gurgling cry, and then the hallway was deathly silent again. They looked at each other, counting silently down the seconds.
The prisoners eventually made it to the streets of Silvermoon, a trail of murdered guards leading the way. They never saw the blonde-haired Sin'dorei again.
No comments:
Post a Comment