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The Harder They Fall
Skyrentalimar was old. More than old, he was ancient. He was a member of the revered race of dragons, in which age was synonymous
with power. Elder wyrms were among the most fearsome and awe-inspiring creatures in Faerun, and he had been a silver dragon.
Silvers were among even the most powerful of dragonkind. But even that maxim had its limits. Time is an enemy that even the
most powerful dragon cannot, in the end, triumph over. Skyrentalimars days of glory had long since been eclipsed. Once he
had been a champion of justice, known throughout the land as a great protector of the innocent, and a terrible foe to evil.
Elves and dwarves, gnomes, halflings and men, all had sung his praises. But then, shouts of Skyrentalimar the Mighty! and
Skyrentalimar the Just had slowly been replaced with jeers of Skyrentalimar the Feeble and Skyrentalimar the Pathetic, and
eventually those had been replaced with nothing at all. He had become forgotten. A legend, nothing more, before his time.
Skyrentalimar, or Sky, as the humans had called him, with some effort managed to summon enough strength to raise his
head and gaze about his chamber. It was an enormous cavern, so large that a person could scarcely see one end of it from the
other. However, it seemed cozy, almost cramped. The space that wasnt filled with dragon was filled with a hoard of treasure
that a dozen kings of men would envy. Treasure was Skys one weakness. He loved to look upon it, to watch how the light cascaded
over his mounds of gold and was then broken into a thousand pieces by his gems. It wasnt greed that drove him to collect so
much, it was memories. He could remember the story behind every single piece in his lair. Be it a gift from an appreciative
king or the spoils of a tyrant vanquished, he cherished every memory. The memories of better days. Finally Sky lay his head
back down, resting it upon a mound of gold coins, and let himself drift off into dreams of those days.
Seconds after
Sky had closed his eyes, his ears twitched, roused by far-off noises emanating from somewhere in the caves surrounding his
lair. No, no just noises, voices! Human voices! It had been more than a century since he had heard any voice other than the
one in his own head. Now humans were in the caves nearby. He had an odd fascination with humans. Their lives passed by in
an eyeblink, at least compared to his, but they lived life with a fury that could make even a dragon envious. More excited
than he had been in many years, he waited for them to come, and listened:
I cannot believe we have lost our way,
Ranas! It seems your mapping skills are as poor as your fighting skills. This voice was rough and deep, and almost reminded
Sky of a dwarf, if not for the obvious human accent.
Me? I thought you were mapping this place! Eh, it matters
not. Once we find the gold that the drunken fool from the tavern stashed here, well find our way out soon enough, Farek, and
well be wealthy men! This voice was thin and wiry, and reminded Sky of a door that needed to be oiled.
Skyrentalimar
snorted in disgust. Thieves. Sky hated thieves, and considered them to be the worst examples of humanity. Still, any company
would be a welcome diversion. Old and weak as he was, he still had no fear of human thieves.
Look ahead,
exclaimed the one called Ranas. I see light ahead. It could be a way out. We should check, and mark it so we can find
our way back to it when we have the gold.
Aye, agreed Farek.
Sky listened intently as the footsteps came
nearer, his anticipation growing with every one. He watched bemusedly as the pair emerged from a small opening in the huge
cavern. The larger of the two, which Sky thought must be Farek, emerged first. He was a hulk of a man, built like a tree trunk.
Easily six and a half feet in height, he had long, untamed fiery red hair and beard. He wore a mail shirt that looked old
and well used, along with breeches made from the hide of some animal or another. He carried a torch in his left hand, and
on his back was strapped a huge bastard sword with a leather covered hilt. After him came a smaller, pudgier man who could
only have been Ranas. He was a head shorter than Farek, and his hair was black and badly thinning. He was dressed in a dark
blue silken shirt and similar pants of a dark brown color. They looked as if they had once been very expensive, but now were
tattered and worn, and very ill suited for exploring caves regardless. He carried a torch as well, and had a long dagger tucked
into his belt.
Both of the men seemed not to notice Sky at first, as their eyes were drawn to the glint the dragons
treasure hoard. Annoyed at the two thieves greed, Sky summoned the strength to raise his head so he could greet his visitors.
His movement broke them out of their greed driven stupor long enough to notice him. When they finally saw the enormous dragon
before them, both men froze in place like statues, their jaws dropping to their chests in terror. Amused, Sky leaned forward
and smiled. Or, at least, did the best attempt at a smile a dragon can make. This was enough to wake them from their trancelike
states, and they bolted in random directions, running and screaming in voices much more feminine than they previously had
been.
The whole thing struck Skyrentalimar as incredibly comical, and he would have laughed had it not hurt him so
much to move. He tried to speak to them, but this seemed only to frighten them even more. The whole affair was beginning to
make him feel very tired, his age overcoming his excitement. He decided to lay his head back down and watched them scurry
about, barely keeping from crashing into one another, and getting nowhere.
Eventually, whether from fatigue or insight,
they stopped running and realized that the great dragon had not moved in some time. In fact, aside from the first moment when
it had raised its head, it had not moved at all. They ventured to move a little closer to examine the dragon.
Is
it dead? , asked Ranas.
Of course not. We saw it move. , answered Farek. He now saw Skys labored breathing,
and eyed the treasure lying about the cavern greedily. But it doesnt appear to be in good shape. At least I dont think
its a threat to us. No, in fact I do not think this dragon is in very good health at all.
The two thieves looked
at each other, the same evil grin sneaking over both of their faces. Thinking themselves to be in extremely good fortune,
they began to pick up jewels, gems, and pieces of gold and put them into their packs.
Rage filled Skyrentalimar at
that moment, rage the likes of which he had not felt in over a thousand years. How dare these puny, pathetic thieves attempt
to steal from him?! He would destroy the infidels, make them sorry they had ever chosen the path of evil. His rage gave him
strength, and for the first in years Sky rose to his feet. The roused dragon was a fearsome sight, even at his age. His bones
creaked and popped, and scales flaked and fell, but for the moment his body held. His great wings expanded to their full span,
and he bared his mouth full of teeth menacingly.
Ranas and Farek knew immediately that they had made a mistake. They
turned and gaped at Skyrentalimar, dropping their ill-gotten treasures absentmindedly. Farek kept his wits about him enough
at least to fumble at the hilt of his sword, desperately trying to draw it from its sheath. Ranas merely fell to his knee,
weeping and shrieking pathetically. Suddenly there was a great wind inside the cave, and the two bandits watched helplessly
as the great dragon inhaled and his chest expanded. It would be the last site they beheld in their mortal life.
With
the last of his strength, Skyrentalimar let loose his final mighty breath. The temperature in the cavern dropped noticeably
as cold winds and ice poured out of the mighty wyrms mouth, blasting the would-be thieves, freezing forever their shocking
and terrified expressions. The very blood in their veins turned to ice. Within seconds, the forms of the pair could barely
be made out inside what was now one huge frozen block, but the glint of the gold that was so precious to them was still visible,
lying about their feet, encased with them in their icy tomb.
Skys body failed him quickly, and the entire cavern shook
with the impact of his bulk crashing to the floor, entire mounds of gold bouncing into the air. The sight of the two thieves
encased in icy death was the last image his mind was able to recognize before his eyes closed, and Skyrentalimar the Great
did not take another breath.
Quest for Vengeance I: Catch a Lizard by the Tail
Nooooooo!!!!
Kylorin awoke with a start, heaving and gasping for air. Quickly he realized he was safe in his room at the inn in
Oral, but that comforted him little. The nightmares were becoming worse and worse. Hed been plagued by them since he was seven
years old. Images of darkness and fire, the smell of smoke. His mothers screams. The sight of his father being overpowered
and run through by cowards. Recently the nightmares had become so persistent that he was barely getting any sleep. Slowly
he rose and walked to the window, hoping the cool night breeze would wake him a little further. The moon was low in the sky,
telling him that dawn would be here in only a couple of hours. Not enough time even to think about sleep, even if the nightmares
would let him achieve it. He moved to dress and don his armor, figuring to make use of the time to get some training in, then
have some breakfast. The inn would be open of course, as it always was. The towns never slept in this land.
Two hours later, Kylorin was in the common room in the inn, carrying a plate of bread and cheese to a table. His morning
training had worked up quite an appetite, and even the sparse selection of food at this hour looked absolutely delicious.
The inn was mostly empty. It was only he, the barmaid, the innkeep, and a dwarf, who Kylorin knew by the name of Randus, slumped
over a table. Obviously even a dwarfs constitution knew some limit. Kylorin sat at a table near the fire and ate, deep in
concentration despite the noise from the kitchen, and the groundshaking snores emanating from the drunken dwarf. Kylorins
concerns were far from this room.
A few minutes later, another customer entered the inn. The polar opposite of the dwarf, the newcomer was an unspeakably
beautiful elven woman. Her hair was a deep auburn color, odd for an elf, and her eyes a sparkling emerald green. She was dressed
in finely made leather armor, wore a shortsword at her waist, and a long bow of exquisite elven craftsmanship was slung over
her shoulder. She was a welcome sight to Kylorin, for he knew this person, and his face brightened significantly.
Good morning Asenya! Kylorin called across the inn. The elf woman at first looked disdainfully to the intoxicated
dwarf, then found the source sitting by the fire. She returned Kylorins smile and the inn warmed considerably for it.
Hello Kylorin, Asenya smiled as she made her way to the chair opposite the warrior. Soon though, her keen
eyes noticed that, despite his smile, Kylorins face was haggard and weary looking. Asenya frowned at this. What is bothering
you? You look as if you havent slept in days. Oh the nightmares?
Theyve become much worse since I told you about them, Kylorin nodded in answer to her inquiry. Normally not
one to talk about his past, he felt unusually at ease around Asenya. He felt as though they were kindred spirits. I feel
I have to do something, but every lead Ive had has led to a dead end.
Actually thats why Im here today. I was looking for you, Asenya said. I thought of someone who may be
able to help you. The dagger you found, the one that belonged to the assassins. It had markings, did it not? A dragon curled
around a staff, and some runes. If they are connected to an assassins guild as you suspect, I know of one who might have knowledge
of such distasteful things. Selmonia.
Kylorin frowned at that. Selmonia was known to him as well, a dark elf who was thoroughly evil. She pleasured in murder
and even worse things, and was even partially responsible for Asenya being trapped in this world away from her home. The thought
of even being in the same room was revolting, hed much rather be decapitating the foul wench. To actually ask for her help
was unthinkable. Then again, Asenya was right. She was the one person he knew of who had ties to that type of organization.
I suppose the ends can sometimes justify the means, Kylorin said after some thought. When next I see her
Ill see what she might know.
Good, Asenya smiled as she stood. I must be going now, I have Family business to attend to.
Kylorin rose to hug the beautiful elf warrior goodbye, and Asenya was off quickly, her boots not even making a sound
on the inn floor. Kylorin was happy that he had met her, happier than he had been in sometime, and their relationship had
become very close indeed. He sat down to ponder on this, and on his quest.
Later that night Kylorin returned to the inn after patrolling the forest, and visiting the orphanage. He had had a
busy day, though he felt he had accomplished little. He looked forward to a bath and a good nights rest. Perhaps tomorrow
would prove more fruitful. He locked his room and began removing the pieces of his armor, but suddenly his instinct told him
that something wasnt right. He grabbed his sword from its sheath and scanned the room, but found nothing. He opened the closet
door, once again finding nothing. Confident he must be just tired, he sheathed his sword and began to close the door to the
closet, only to find someone standing behind the door. The same beautiful but deadly dark elf he had been searching for this
day. Kylorin took a quick step backward, drawing his sword.
Relax, Goldenboy, Selmonia smirked as she moved to take a seat on the bed. If I was here on business,
youd never have known it.
So you say, but evil has a stench all its own. I find it odd that you can make a living, Kylorin replied.
Naïve, as always. Actually Im not here of my own choosing, really. Asenya said you wanted to see me, and I actually
owe that wench a favor, so here I am. She actually said you might need my help, Selmonias lips curled into a wicked grin,
obviously enjoying the thought of Kylorin needing her help.
Unfortunately that is the case, Kylorin spat distastefully. He pulled the dagger from his belt, holding it
out for Selmonias inspection. The symbols and runes on this dagger are linked to an assassins guild, I have been told.
Asenya thought you may have some idea who they are, and where I can find them.
Very doubtful. If they left evidence theyre obviously amateurs, and I never associate with amateurs, Selmonia
said dryly, as she took the dagger and looked it over. Not any group I am familiar with, but then again Im not from this
area. Sorry.
Very well, Kylorin looked downtrodden at this. I -appreciate- your help, nonetheless. I can pay you.
Forget about it, Selmonia said as she went toward the window. One thing I can tell you though, the symbols
under the insignia. Theyre some dialect of lizardman tongue. But I cant read them. With that she was gone into the night.
Kylorin closed the window and locked it, then silently finished removing his armor, bathed, and got ready for bed.
He had much to think about. He knew of no lizardmen, but at least it was something. He hoped hed be able to sleep.
In the morning, after a night of tossing and turning, Kylorin arose and again made his way down for breakfast. He was
completely caught by surprise to find Asenya already there, having some tea and looking into the fire. She turned when he
came down the stairs and smiled.
Its about time. I forget how much humans sleep, she said warmly as Kylorin took a seat near her. Then she
giggled unexpectedly. I hear you had a woman in your room last night!
Very funny. Youve spoken to her then? Kylorin asked.
A few hours ago. She told me about the lizardmen writings on the dagger, and I have some hopeful news, Asenya
nodded. Ive heard of a small fishing village having problems with lizardmen raids. Its to the southeast of Guaine, less
than a half days ride from here.
Kylorin nearly upended the table as he shot out of his seat, more excited than he had been in a long time. He was eager
to be on trail, and thirty minutes later they were mounted and well on the way to the small village of Bryn Mawr.
It was late in the day when they reached the outskirt of the village. The sun was setting in the western sky. The small
village was unusually quiet, and the two rider looked at each other in concern. Cautiously they rode into town.
Hello? Is anyone here?, Kylorins voice boomed through the empty streets, and Asenya shook her head. If enemies
were near, they had plenty of warning. They rode slowly into the center of town, the horses hooves clopping loudly. They turned
to speak to each other, when suddenly Asenya yelled out.
Duck!! she screamed to Kylorin, who was already diving out of his saddle, warriors instincts kicking in. An
arrow appeared in the wall of the building behind where Kylorin had just been, missing him by inches. Already Asenya had an
arrow knocked and was scanning the area. Kylorin recovered and moved to pull the arrow out of the wall, careful not to touch
the head in case of poison. He walked over to Asenya, showing her the arrow. She inspected it carefully.
Lizardmen. The craftsmanship points to them, and the markings are similar to the ones on the dagger, she said
after a minute of study. Kylorin started to lead his horse in the direction from which the arrow came, and Asenya followed.
On the outskirts of town, she dismounted, obviously seeing something in the grass. Kneeling, she examined something that Kylorin
could barely make out.
Tracks, definitely reptilian. And biped. They lead into the swamp there, Asenya rose and pointed about twenty
yards to the south, where a marshy, swampy forest begain.
Well have to go on foot. My horse., Kylorin looked concerned. The huge white stallion, called Valiance, was
very important to him.
Hell be alright. As long as he sticks close to my mare, Asenya assured him, and they dismissed the two steeds.
Slowly and cautiously they made their way into the swamp. Darkness was falling, but Kylorin was much to impatient to
wait. He relied on Asenyas keen vision and senses to guide them. He was also sure that his own ability to sense evil would
help warn them of danger. The made their way about half a mile into the swamp, Asenya kneeling every so often to check the
trail, when she suddenly put her hand on his chest and strained to listen. Kylorin sensed danger as well, and was just pulling
his sword when the forest around them suddenly exploded with screams and hisses. A dozen lizardmen poured out of hiding, brandishing
tridents and clubs, hissing loudly. They outnumbered the Kylorin and Asenya twelve to two, and appeared confident. They soon
found they didnt outnumber the warriors nearly enough. The elven archer had dispatched two almost immediately with her bow,
then drew her sword as Kylorin gutted a third. The two fought back to back, their blades whirring in concert to each other,
and before five minutes had passed, they stood facing one injured and very lonely looking lizardman.
I ssssurender, he spat cowardly. Pleassse dont kill me. I can help you.
Kylorin sheathed his sword confidently, and strode toward the trembling lizardman. He took the dagger out of his belt
and held it out.
Tell me what these symbols mean, if you value your skin, Kylorin threatened. The lizardman inspected the dagger
and then looked up at Kylorin, looking relieved.
The markingsss are a name, but the name of the one who forged the dagger. I sssenssse this isss not the one you
ssseek, the lizardman said, looking hopeful that he would live. But the dragon sssymbool, that isss one known to
my people. A human, he killsss for money. He isss known only as the Shadow Raider. I do not know where he may be found.
The lizardmans expression of relief was soon replaced by one of death as Kylorin quickly ran him through with his sword,
almost too fast to be seen. He pulled the blade out and cleaned it on the marshy grass.
At least we have a name. And we still must find the people from the village, though I doubt they are far,
Kylorins face was expressionless, but Asenyas looked troubled.
Kylorin, tell me. Is your quest one of justice, or vengeance? she asked. The look on Kylorins face was answer
enough. To him, in this matter, there was no difference.
TO BE CONTINUED
Quest for Vengeance
II:
A Needle in
a Haystack
It was most certainly an odd scene. In the middle of the slums of Ezrin, amidst all the filth and poverty, in a messy
alley between a seedy tavern and an even seedier gambling hall, there sat a disheveled young man dressed in fine, shimmering
armor on top of an overturned beer barrel with his head in his hands. Kylorin had been sitting there for far longer than even
he realized. He was forlorn beyond any sense of time. It seemed like only yesterday he had been full of hope, for the first
time in a long, long while. He had found a lead, a possible connection between the killer of his parents and a tribe of lizardmen,
who had recently been attacking a small village nearby. With the help of the elf warrior Asenya, he had rescued the villagers
from the marauding lizardmen and actually had managed to get a name: The Shadow Raider. The name, or more likely the alias,
of the person he had been looking for most of his life. He had set out almost immediately, seeking any information he could
find on this Shadow Raider. Every town he went to, he looked for anyone with contacts in the criminal underworld and questioned
them, offering gold for information. Gold held no meaning for him. He asked town elders, local innkeepers, anyone he could
think of who might know something of use to him. But each question he asked got only shrugs and apologies. He grew weary and
desperate, and finally was on the verge of despair when he entered the sea-side town of Ezrin.
Finally he mustered the will to stand, and started walking to the next tavern he could find. He was not going to quit,
not yet. Hed been searching for far too long to give up so easily, and as he exited the alley he noticed another tavern down
the street called the Shrieking Mermaid, which was somewhat nicer than the one he had just left. His spirits lightened, he
hastened down the street and into the dimly lit inn.
The tavern was slow, being still early in the afternoon. The barmaids were already busy however, some taking the chairs
down from the tables and wiping everything down, others sweeping and mopping the floors, all chatting merrily as they did
so. The barkeep was behind the counter with a wet cloth, wiping out the mugs and glasses though they already appeared to be
clean enough. He gave Kylorin a welcoming nod as the big warrior approached the bar.
A good day to you, warrior, said the barkeep, noticing Kylorins armor and longsword. The name is Bernan,
and I bid you welcome to my humble inn.
And a good day to you, and well met Bernan, Kylorin replied.
What can I be getting for you today? Bernan asked as he motioned to his assortment of ales and wines.
Nothing to drink, thanks. I am seeking information, and have been traveling for days, Kylorin said, almost
pleading at this point. I am searching for one they call the Shadow Raider.
Hmm, not one Ive heard of, but Ive not been in town long. Only opened my little inn a couple of weeks ago, to be
exact, Bernan replied somewhat apologetically. Perhaps you might ask some of the locals. Many of them are very streetwise.
I see do you know anyone in particular I might look for, and maybe where I should look? Kylorin asked.
Well, I do have several regulars already, and a few of them might know something helpful oh, like him! Bernan
pointed to the entrance to the inn as the door opened. Just entering the tavern was a half-elf, with shoulder length silver
hair and green eyes. He was dressed in fine silks, mostly of black and grey, with splashes of red here and there. He wore
an ornate shortsword at his side, and walked with catlike grace. He appeared very young, perhaps looking fifteen or sixteen
in human years, though with his elven blood he was most likely older than he appeared. His face bore an expression of wonderment
and mischief, which quickly turned to surprise when he saw Kylorin.
You! Hey, I didnt I mean, it wasnt me. I never took anything err, I have to go, The half-elf said as he backpedaled
his way toward the door. Kylorin rushed forward, not about to let a potential source of information get away from him. But
the newcomer was by far the quicker, evading Kylorins grasp by somersaulting off to the left, heading for an open window to
the alley. He almost made it.
CLANGEDDIN!!!!!!!! a gruff voice roared from the shadowy corner of the bar. Kylorin watched the half-elf who
had been gracefully fleeing suddenly freeze, crashing into the wall like a tipped-over statue. Kylorin looked back in the
direction of the Battle Cry and saw a dwarf that he had not noticed before. He wore the garb and symbols of a priest, but
was armored and armed like a veteran warrior.
He'll not be movin fer a few minutes, the dwarf boasted. Once me spell has a hold, itll hold just about
anybody.
I thank you, stranger. I am Kylorin, he said, as he offered his hand to his newfound ally. I appreciate
your assistance, though you had no reason to help.
Bah, one thing I hates more than a stinkin elf is a stinkin thief, and he had the looks and manner of both,
the dwarf replied as he shook Kylorins hand. Ragnor Rockhammer, priest of Clangeddin Silverbeard. We ought to be tyin
him up, me spell does wear off a bit quickly.
The two quickly grabbed the half-elf from his rather undignified position, setting him in a chair and binding him at
the wrists and ankles. A few moments later, just as Ragnor had said, the spell wore off.
I'm a half-elf, you stupid sawed off, bearded gnome! The half-elf spat when he gained control of his vocal
chords.
Well, I got no spell to freeze half of ye, muttered the dwarf as he moved back toward his unattended mug of
ale.
Dray Skullan. You have quite a reputation back in Cormyr, all over the Dale-lands as a matter of fact, Kylorin
said coldly as he recalled where he had seen this half-elf before.
Really? I had no idea, Dray said with less than convincing surprise, obviously proud of his reputation as
a top-notch thief and all around scoundrel. In actuality, though his skills as a thief were unmatched, he rarely committed
a crime anymore. His reputation was from his younger days, and he had more than enough gold now to keep him in drink and women.
Anything he did these days was mostly for fun. Look, I know what they tried to pin on me back in Suzail, but Im telling you
I never took any tome from any temple.
I know, that thief has already been dealt with. You thought I was following you for that? Kylorin asked with
disbelief. Hardly, I moved to this area for my own reasons. Dont let your ego fool you.
Then by what grounds do you attack and hold me? demanded the now angry rogue.
I'm sorry for that. I need information, and you are the kind of person who knows the streets. I think you might
be able to help me, Kylorin explained. If I release you, will you answer my questions?
Fine, fine, Ill answer your questions if I can, just get these ropes off of me before I have to do it myself,
Dray responded, and Kylorin noticed that Drays hands had begun to glow with magic. He moved to untie the rogue quickly. When
he finished, Dray stood and stretched, then stood impatiently for Kylorins question.
I'm looking for someone called the Shadow Raider, Kylorin stated bluntly. I know hes linked to an assassins
guild, possibly the guild leader. And I know you have knowledge of that world. I need to know where to find him.
Ah, the Shadow Raider. Ive rarely heard that name, Dray responded as he searched his memory. Few have
heard of him, and none know anything more than his name. By his reputation, I know simply this: hes very good, and hes very
dangerous. No one knows where he operates. No one even knows the name of any of his crew. He covers his trail well, and makes
sure that hes regarded as little more than a shadow. Hell, hes probably almost as good as me. Im sorry there is really little
of use I can tell you. Theres nothing more anyone can tell you, that much I know.
Kylorins heart at first leapt, finally finding someone who had at least heard of this elusive assassin. It then crashed
suddenly, realizing that this was one more dead end. He knew nothing more now than when he had entered bar, and he was out
of options.
I thank you for your information, he said to Dray despondently, offering him a bag of gold, which was waved
away. He then turned toward Ragnor as Dray made a hasty exit. And I thank you for your help, Ragnor. It is good to have
met you.
Aye, well met, Ragnor replied. And Im wishin ye luck on yer quest. This Shadow Raider sounds like the
kind of goblin-kin Id like to sink me hammer into.
Kylorin gave a weak smile but said nothing as he exited the tavern. Almost in a daze, he made his way to the local
stable where he had left his white stallion. After paying what he owed the stablehand, he set out immediately for Atlan. He
had nowhere left to search, and it was time to go home.
Two days later, Kylorin rode back into Atlan, now bordering on a full-blown depression. The purpose for which he had
trained his whole life had been dangled in front of him like so much cheese in front of a mouse, only to be cruelly yanked
away. It was all too much for the young warrior. He stabled his horse again, and then walked down the street to the local
inn, intending to sleep for as long as he could do so. Friends and acquaintances waved and greeted him as he passed, but he
did not hear it. He climbed the stairs toward his room, but when he stopped walking, he realized he was not standing in front
of the room he had rented. Not knowing why he had come here, he knocked on the door anyway. The door opened to reveal a breathtakingly
beautiful elven woman, dressed a brilliantly woven nightgown of elven make. Her hair and skin were light and fair, and she
smiled at Kylorin, looking concerned at the same time.
Where have you been? Asenya demanded. Everyone has been worried about you!
Everywhere, and nowhere. Ive searched every vermin infested sewer, every filthy alley in Feldar and have found
nothing. No one knows anything of this Shadow Raider. Ive nowhere left to search. I dont even know why Im here, or why Im
bothering you with.. Kylorin broke off, finally raising his eyes to meet Asenyas. He stood in a stupor, as if just waking
up from a long sleep.
What is it? Kylorin, are you alright? Asenya asked, not sure what was happening. You are always welcome
here, of course. There is no need to apologize
No, its not that. Ive just, well, Ive never seen you like this, Kylorin stammered. I mean, never without
a suit of armor and a quiver of arrows. He stood there with a goofy grin on his face for a moment, when suddenly something
plowed into his back, driving him into the doorframe violently. He was spun around, and found himself in the middle of a group
of six heavily muscled thugs, all wielding clubs and eyeing him menacingly. The biggest was the one directly in front of him
with a forearm under his chin, pinning the surprised warrior to the wall.
Youve been asking a lot of questions, the brute spat. And the person youve been asking about doesnt like
being asked about. He sent us to shut your filthy mouth. And dont you worry about your little girlfriend. The boss dont leave
witnesses, but well make sure she goes out smiling.
Kylorin shook the cobwebs out of his head, and realized what was happening. His search had ruffled someones feathers,
and they had decided to eliminate the disturbance. He cared little for their threats, but he wasnt about to let any harm come
to Asenya, even when cornered against six to one odds. Just as he was about to bring the fight to them, something in the corner
of his eye caught his attention, and he simply started to grin.
Well, whatre you grinning at? Awfully happy for a corpse, aint you? laughed the leader, and his cohorts joined
in.
I'm laughing because you made a mistake, responded Kylorin, his grin even wider now. You underestimated
someone.
Huh? the thug demanded, too slow even now to realize his error. What do you mea..
He never had a chance to finish his question as an elven arrow entered his head at one temple and exited through the
other. He crumpled to the floor with a dull thud. No longer pinned, Kylorin immediately had his blade in his hand and gutted
another thug before they even knew what had happened. Elven arrows zipped into two more, and Kylorin battered through a fifths
defenses with ferocity, ending his life with a thrust to the throat. The warrior and the archer turned their attention to
the last of the thugs, intent on getting some answers, but never got a chance. Fearing the price of failure more than death,
he pulled a dagger from his belt and plunged it into his own heart.
Damn it! Kylorin cursed, enraged at losing a chance to interrogate the suicidal lackey. Regaining his senses,
he began to search the bodies, looking for some clue as to where they had come from. He searched their pockets and belt pouches,
searching for insignias, notes, orders, anything that could point him to their boss. He found nothing.
Kylorin, look at this, Asenya said suddenly. She was looking a ring on the finger of one of the dead men.
It was simple, set in copper, but with a peculiar orange stone that almost glowed. Ive never seen a gem like this one.
Its warm to the touch! They all have one!
Kylorin scanned the hands of the thugs, and saw that she was right. He concentrated for a moment, trying to think of
someone with a knowledge of gems and stones. It may be nothing, but it was more than he had before. Suddenly, it hit him.
Are you up for a ride? He asked Asenya.
A ride, at this time of night? questioned the elf-maiden. To where?
To find a dwarf, came Kylorins reply.
After a hard ride, the two warriors entered the town of Ezrin. Kylorin made a quick line back to the Shrieking Mermaid.
Luck was with him, for Ragnor Rockhammer was inside with another mug of ale. He greeted his new friend, and wasted no time
showing the rings to the dwarf.
Do you recognize the stone? Kylorin asked impatiently as Ragnor studied the gem.
Aye, that I do, Ragnor responded as he looked up from the ring he was holding. Its called firestone, and
me and me kin have been looking for this stone for a while now. Only recently weve managed to find out that its native to
the land near Bren, in the northeast.
Then that is where I'm going, Kylorin decided.
That is where we are going, corrected Asenya. First thing in the morning, we set out with fresh supplies.
Later that night Kylorin stood in the darkness, staring out of a window in the room he and Asenya had rented to rest
up before the trip. The window faced to the east, and Kylorin stared, wondering if this Shadow Raider was out there. He looked
back to the elven warrior Asenya, already armored and ready for the road, sleeping comfortably on the bed. Kylorin had left
his pillow on the floor hours ago, finding no way to sleep. He thoughts raged within him, and finally he could sit still no
longer.
The road I take is dangerous. I can wait no longer, and I can ask no one to go with me, he whispered to himself
as the crept toward the door. With one final glance at the sleeping elf warrior, he slipped out of the room.
TO BE CONTINUED
Quest for Vengeance
III
Best Served
Cold
After more than a week of hard riding, Kylorin found himself galloping across the plains toward the mountainous region
of Bren. Following nothing more than a hunch about an orange stone in a ring, he had set out to find the Shadow Raider and
avenge his parents deaths once and for all. The air had become frigid as he approached the mountains. He stopped his horse
and dismounted, retrieving saddle blankets from his pack and throwing them over the hindquarters of his mighty white steed.
He quickly remounted, not wanting to stop for very long on this exposed plain. He had fought off more than a few would be
assassins along the journey. They would not catch him off guard again, he had vowed. He pulled his cloak tighter about him,
taking some warmth in the fact that he had obviously gotten the attention of this so-called Shadow Raider.
Finally he was entering the foothills of the huge mountain range. He looked up to take in their beauty. Rising up out
of the featureless plain like the maw of a mighty ice dragon, the mountain peaks rose almost into the clouds. Most were covered
in snow, though the lower elevations had only a dusting, with even some forest areas. Kylorin knew he was most likely riding
into a trap, but he did not care. He had not hidden his path, and the Shadow Raider obviously knew of his coming. But Kylorin
felt in his heart that right was on his side, and he would make justice prevail no matter what. He hoped that they were afraid.
He rode on, his determination leading the way. He rode up a steep hill that leveled out suddenly into a long-abandoned
village, flanked on three sides by dense fir trees. He trotted into the village square, the abandoned buildings like so many
tombstones rising out of the frozen ground. He scanned the forest across the village, hoping to find a trail into the forest.
He did not like abandoning his horse, but he would if he had to. The huge white stallion, which Kylorin had named Valliance,
could take care of himself without a doubt.
Suddenly all of Kylorins warrior instincts screamed a warning at once. Something was not right at all with this place.
Kylorins head whipped back and forth, scanning his surroundings. His sword was already in his hand, his training taking over
without a thought. Everything was as it had been, though. Just a bunch of abandoned buildings and some trees. Perhaps he was
just on edge, Kylorin had almost decided, when the trees exploded, pouring out dozens and dozens of screaming warriors. All
were dressed in black, most wielding axes and shields, but a few in the back with crossbows already leveled at him. Frantically
Kylorin tried to analyze the situation. He estimated at least three score of the enemy, already flanking behind him. They
had formed a circle around him, perhaps thirty yards across but coming no closer. He was cut off, no way to escape, but then
again Kylorin did not plan to run. If he was to die, he would die with honor.
As quickly
as they came, all the war cries stopped, and the ambushers directly in front of him parted like a field of grain
in the wind. From the trees emerged a huge black horse, even larger than Valliance. Atop the horse was the man who could only
be the Shadow Raider. Large and muscular, he was dressed in all in black as one would expect. Even his fine chain armor was
black, as was his hair and beard. Even his eyes seemed to be black, cloaked in shadow. On his back Kylorin could see a double
bladed axe, and he could tell even from this distance that its edge was razor sharp. On his cheek was a smooth scar that Kylorin
recognized all too well. Slowly the rider approached him.
So, finally we meet. You have been a thorn in my side for weeks, but that ends here and now, the Shadow Raider
spoke slowly and eloquently. It was all Kylorin could do to keep from charging him immediately. I am about to tell you
something that few people alive know. My name is Lord Veldan Morphis, but most simply call me the Shadow Raider, as you have
already learned. I tell you this simply because you are about to die, and I am not without honor. I believe a man should know
the name of the man who takes his life. But I too wish to know something: why? Why have you hunted me across Feldar?
You do not even remember? Kylorin screamed in astonishment and rage. You murdered my father and mother,
raped my mother in cold blood, and dont even remember them? You dare to speak to me of honor?!
The boy Veldans face showed a sudden realization. The boy that I should have killed that night, and would
have if I had had the time. Your parents meddled in affairs that they shouldnt have: mine. I could not have that. Oh well.
As a final act of retribution I will send you to meet them.
Veldan turned to his band, about to give the order to attack when suddenly the entire area was illuminated in a brilliant
flash of light. Veldan, Kylorin, and all the thugs were equally surprised and had to shield their eyes from the glare. When
the light subsided, Kylorin was no longer alone. By his side stood nearly a dozen adventurers, perhaps more. Kylorin looked
around and recognized them all. His own friends and teammates: Solace Touch, Tarlin, Destrux, and the mage Omen, her hands
still crackling with sorcerous energy. As were the hands of Natasha Daebreak, an old friend and mage of considerable power.
Also present were Ragnor and his band, Dauglain, Foil, and the orc Bane. The hobbit priestess Isis and her team, the Eyes
of Truth were also present, as was a huge, kilted warrior Kylorin had befriended long ago: Skull MacRoth.. Strangely enough,
Dray Skullan was also there, and shrugged at Kylorin as if to say Why miss an opportunity to eliminate some competition? But
most importantly, Asenya stood at Kylorins side, a look of fierce determination in her eyes. Kylorin looked over the amazing
assembly of heroes, and turned back to the Shadow Raider, who seemed shaken but undaunted.
Even with your allies, youre still hopelessly outnumbered, mocked Veldan. Now you shall all die with him.
Your overconfidence is your weakness, commented Kylorin confidently. He knew the capabilities of all who were
present.
Your faith in your friends is yours, spat the Shadow Raider, and at his signal the assassin horde attacked.
Veldan slipped into the forest, but Kylorin had not missed his escape.
The initial onslaught was powerful, but the heroes of good (and Dray as well) turned it back with amazing skill. Blades
rang, arrows flew, and magical energy streamed across the battlefield. Kylorin dispatched one, then two assassins with speed
and purpose, but suddenly he realized his dilemma. His quarry was getting away. He looked to the forest where Veldan had flown,
then back to his friends who were fighting for their lives only because he was their friend. He stood, not knowing what to
do.
What are you doing? Go! demanded Asenya, making the decision for him. With that, Kylorin was off, his mighty
white stallion blowing right through any reisistance from the enemy. When he reached the forests edge, he found the hidden
trail that Veldan had used to get away. With no hesitation he was on the trail.
He rode through the forest with reckless speed, spurred on by occasion glimpses of black up ahead. On and on for what
seemed like hours he chased the Shadow Raider, then suddenly he burst into a clearing, the evil Veldan standing in the middle
waiting for him.
I grow tired of this. You want vengeance, little boy? Then come get it! He taunted as he pulled his axe off
of his back. Kylorin then saw the weapon in full. The axe was two headed, an identical razor sharp double-bladed head on each
end. It was a weapon Kylorin had never seen, and never trained against, but he did not care. Veldan whipped it around in a
whirring circle, displaying his obvious skill. He then leveled it at Kylorin in challenge.
Kylorin was up to the challenge. The scene was something out of a storybook. The warrior of Good on his white stallion,
practically glowing. The warrior of Evil, a rider all in black upon a midnight black steed. Kylorin dismounted, as did Veldan,
as he did possess some twisted sense of honor.
Kylorin screamed and charged, his emotion getting the better of him. Veldan easily parried Kylorins overeager attacks,
whipping the wicked axe around and counter attacking. Kylorin soon found himself on the defensive. He had never faced or trained
for this type of weapon. He struggled to parry the attacks, batting one axe head away with his sword and blocking the next
with his shield. One or two swipes managed to get through his defenses, leaving minor cuts on his arm and leg. Anger filled
Kylorin. He had come too far to lose now. But he had no idea how to attack this opponent. The weapon was too big, had too
far of a reach, like a quarterstaff only more dangerous.
Suddenly Kylorin knew what he had to do. All this weapon was, really, was a bladed quarterstaff. And while a quarterstaff
was a dangerous weapon in the hands of a skilled opponent, it was nothing new. He changed his tactics, allowing Veldans broad
swipes to overbalance him, nearly slipping his blade in beyond his defenses and causing Veldan to take up the defensive. He
smiled, because he now knew that he was the better warrior. It was only a matter of time.
Just as Kylorin felt he was about to end the skirmish once and for all, his vision began to cloud. He immediately fell
back to a defensive stance, shaking his head, trying to regain his composure. His eyes were burning and watering, and now
his abdomen began to cramp terribly. He managed to parry blow after blow, but eventually the pain overtook him and he fell
to the ground. He waited for the final blow to come, but it never did.
You fought valiantly, and for that I salute you, mocked the Shadow Raider. But I do not leave anything
to chance. What you are feeling now are the effects of a very powerful poison, one of my own creation. You will soon die a
horrible and painful death.
Kylorin looked at his wounds, and found despair. The cuts were already festering with some kind of green bile, and
he knew that was going to die. And he didnt mind. He had failed. He had failed himself, his friends, and his parents. He had
wasted his entire life, his entire existence had come down to this. Killed by a poisoned blade, the weapon of a coward. Nothing
remained for him to live for.
Or did it? Suddenly his mind filled with one image. The image of a beautiful elven maiden whos desire to vanquish evil
and help the innocent matched his own. Why he had never saw this, he had no idea. He had been blind. Suddenly he wanted to
live. He wanted to live with a passion that matched his previous passion for revenge. Slowly, rage overcoming the poison,
he began to stand.
Veldan could not believe his eyes. The poison had never even taken this long to kill before, and now this whelp was
rising from the ground with a sword in his hand. Anger filled him, and he whipped his vicious axe around, preparing to bring
it down and end this conflict. The axe came down in a powerful overhead slash that would have taken down most any opponent.
But not this one. The axes blade lodged into Kylorins shield, holding fast. Veldan did not have very long to be surprised
at Kylorins strength. With almost divine speed and strength, Kylorin brushed the axe and shield to the side and whipped his
own razor-sharp longsword around, cleanly decapitating the Shadow Raider.
Kylorin collapsed, images of his father, his mother, and Asenya filling his mind. He smiled as he closed his eyes.
Minutes later they opened again. Everything hurt, and he found himself starting into the eyes of a hobbit.
There you are, Mr. Do Only Good! We thought we had lost you! exclaimed a very excited Isis Knottywood. Standing
next to her was a satisfied looking Ragnor Rockhammer. That was a nasty poison, but me and Mr. Dwarf here took care of
it!
Kylorin smiled and look around at his friends, happier that he had been since he was nine years old. He finally found
the one he was looking for. Waving to catch Asenyas attention, he waved her over to him. He had a very important proposition
to make.
THE END
The Forging of the Blades
Kylorin trudged through the mud, the rain
pouring down on him as he made his way back to Waterford. He looked up at the high wooden gates as he made his way toward
the city. Although he hadnt been gone long, the town looked strangely different to him. Smaller, somehow. He continued on
toward the inn, slipping into his own thoughts as he walked. His mind was troubled, partly due to the fact that he had
left the Heroes of Light so abruptly, and partly because of how fruitless his trip had been. He had received an anonymous
scribe from someone who knew of his personal quest. That was not unusual, as he had told the story numerous times in his search.
Kylorins parents had been murdered when he was but nine years old, and his lifelong quest was to avenge his parents, and continue
to uphold their ideals of justice. He had witnessed most of the event. Too much of it. His mother being raped, his father
struggling against the attackers, wounding several before being overpowered. Because the attackers hid their faces in cowls,
Kylorins only clue to their identities was an insignia carved into the hilt of a dagger found at the scene. The insignia,
which consisted basically of a red dragon curled around an ornate staff, was later linked to a criminal organization, one
of which his father had been a bitter enemy. The scribe Kylorin had received hinted that this organizations insignia had been
seen in the city of Dezine. He had left almost immediately, pausing only to advise Natasha Daebreak, and the rest of the members
of the Heroes of Light that he was going. However, his search of Dezine and the surrounding areas had turned up nothing, and
he headed back toward Waterford only two days ago. With any luck he would find Natasha, and his spot on the Heroes would still
be there.
Pushing open the door to the inn, he walked inside
and looked around. The inn was mostly vacant, and Kylorin was glad of it. He chuckled to himself when he thought how he must
look. His golden hair was dripping and disheveled. His boots were muddy, though he had cleaned them off as best he could before
entering. Even his armor, which he always kept spotless and gleaming, was dull and grimy, splattered with mud and blood. He
moved toward the bar to speak to the barkeep, whom he didnt recognize. He paid for a room, and stumbled up the stairs to get
himself cleaned up, and take a long overdue nap.
After he had rested, bathed, and cleaned his armor,
he made his way back down to the common room to see if he could find his former team. He scanned the room, looking for a familiar
face. It was just after dusk, and the inn was busy with people having their evening meal. To Kylorins surprise, however, he
couldnt find anyone he recognized. He ordered something to eat, and was about to sit down at a table to eat when he noticed
a rather large troll at a table in the back of the inn, enjoying a rather large bowl of stew.
I hope that stew isnt anyone I know, said Kylorin
as he approached the table, carrying his own plate. The troll looked up from his bowl with a scowl, but grinned when he saw
who the speaker was.
Hilo, friend Kylorin. Long time since me saw you
last.
Hello Grendle, Kylorin said as he sat down
with his plate. Ive not been in Waterford for a while. I was in Dezine on a wild goose chase. Its good to see a familiar
face though.
Wild goose? Sounds good to Grendle, the troll
said as he licked his lips. Kylorin couldnt stifle a laugh at that.
Have you seen Natasha Daebreak lately? Or maybe
Tantalus, Tarlin, or Solace? asked Kylorin, as he ate his supper.
Me no see them since team break up. All head
out towards other places, do stuff on their own. Not many of the old people in town anymore. Everyone move on, replied
Grendle. Kylorin was troubled at that.
The Heroes of Light have disbanded? Hmmm, I was
afraid of that. I guess I shall move on as well. This town seems strange to me now. Perhaps you will join me, Grendle! We
could travel together, and I could teach you to be a warrior of good, Kylorin wondered aloud, laughing at the last part.
No, me like it here. Lots of food, nobody hard to
kill. And me no want to be good, no fun, Grendle said over the last bite of his stew.
Well, it was good to see you. I will move
on tomorrow, after a good nights rest. Haven perhaps, said Kylorin as he finished off his meal. He stood and stretched.
Okay, friend Kylorin. Me see you if you come
back then, replied the big troll, already looking toward the bar, pondering another bowl of stew.
Kylorin moved toward the stairs, already looking forward
to a good nights rest. He was troubled, afraid that his leaving caused the breakup of his old team. But he scoffed at that.
The team was already beginning to grow apart even before he left. His thoughts trailed off after that as his head hit the
goose down pillow, and sleep overtook him.
In the morning he packed up his meager belongings
and headed north, toward the town of Haven. He knew little about it, apart from the fact that most warriors who left Waterford
headed in that direction. It was only a days journey, and it turned out to be totally uneventful. It was near dusk as he made
his way into town. If Waterford seemed strange and foreign, Haven seemed downright spooky. The streets were nearly deserted,
and the few people who were out seemed to be in a hurry to get indoors. Everyone he passed gave him suspicious glances. Kylorin
spotted the local tavern at the end of the street. At least that much was normal.
He entered the inn, eager to get warm and have a bite
to eat. A quick scan of the common room found nothing out of the ordinary. It looked quite like almost every other inn he
had visited. He started toward the main bar to order some food.
Looks like you stumbled into the wrong part of town,
a lowered voice seemed to say from immediately behind him. Kylorins reflexes kicked in automatically, rolling forward and
turning around in a crouch, his longsword already halfway out of its scabbard. However he grinned when he saw who his so-called
assailant was, and stood to hold out his hand.
You should be more careful, Solace Touch, Kylorin
said as he shook the hand of the half-elf who stood before him. Solace Touch was a slender man, dressed mostly in black, his
hair also dark. Twin daggers were tucked neatly into his belt. I nearly took your head off by pure instinct.
Youre much too slow for that, Kylorin. Its good
to see you. After you disappeared like that, we feared the worst, Solace said as he shook Kylorins hand. He looked to
his right as he noticed another walking toward them. See, Tarlin? I told you hed be alright. He knows how to use that
sword of his.
Kylorin looked in the direction of the newcomer, and
once again pleasantly surprised to see another former teammate. Tarlin was a full-blooded elf, his fair hair pushed back away
from his ears so there could be no doubt. He wore the long blue robes of a priest, and a short sword hung at his waist. The
three moved to a table in the back where they could talk. After seating themselves and having food brought to the table, they
caught up while eating.
Its good to see you guys. The only familiar face
in Waterford was Grendle, said Kylorin. So where has Natasha gone? Grendle told me that the team had parted ways.
Your guess is as good as ours. You know her, she goes
wherever her latest whim takes her, laughed Solace.
We decided to head toward Haven, probably for the
same reasons you did, Kylorin, Tarlin added.
This town is not what I expected. Everyone seems
almost afraid of something, Kylorin said. Have you town noticed that?
Solace and Tarlin exchanged wary glances, and looked
around the room, almost as if to make sure no one was listening before answering.
Well, weve only been here a few days, but that was
long enough to find out that the people of Haven are afraid of someone, not something. And that someone goes by the name of
Lanfeust, Tarlin nearly whispered the last part.
He practically runs the town. Local
businesses and citizens are supposed to pay for protection from crime, but the only criminal to fear is Lanfeust himself,
Solace added, cringing at the volume at which he had spoken.
Kylorin face was as stone, but anyone viewing him could
feel the anger welling inside him. This Lanfeust was exactly the sort he had dedicated himself to opposing. While he may not
be purely evil, he care for little other than himself and his own coin purse. He struggled to gain his composure before speaking.
This cannot go unchecked. The Heroes of Light
may be no more, but I am still here. I will not stand for this! Kylorins voice boomed throughout the inn as he stood,
losing all control of himself.
The entire inn was in shocked silence, everyone staring
at the heavily armored man with apparently no sense. Kylorin was about to sit back down when from the back of the crowd, someone
started clapping their hands very slowly. The crowd parted, revealing a group at a table that was previously hidden from view.
The party at the table consisted of three of the ugliest half orcs in existence, a stunningly beautiful woman with red hair,
dressed in green mages robes, and a sinister looking half-elf. The half-elf was dressed in fine clothing of deep reds
and greens, and wore a black cloak with the hood thrown back, revealing long black hair. He had an air of confidence about
him that was unnerving, to say the least. The three former Heroes of Light glanced at each other as they stood to face the
stranger, who without a doubt must be Lanfeust.
You will not stand for it, eh stranger? What then,
will you do? Lanfeust mocked. The half orcs guffawed loudly, and the red-haired mage simply smiled.
Whatever needs to be done. I will not standby while
this goes on. While I live, I will do everything in my power to protect the innocent and helpless. The townspeople may fear
you, but I do not, Kylorin replied, staring Lanfeust in the eye. Solace and Tarlin stood at his sides, ready to fight
with him.
Isnt that heroic, Enigma? Lanfeust asked
his mage companion. Hell defend the villagers with his very life, Im sure.
Kylorin had had enough at that point. His hand
went toward his sword hilt as he took a step toward Lanfeust. Solace and Tarlin were at his side, reaching for their weapons
as well.
I grow weary of this farce, Lanfeust announced.
He motioned to his bodyguards, and the three half orcs moved to intercept the attackers.
One of the half orcs fell before he took a second step.
He had suddenly sprouted daggers from his eye, and from his belly. Solace wasted no time admiring his own aim, already midway
through an electric arc spell to finish him off. At that same moment, a glowing arrow of magical energy erupted from Tarlins
hands, as he called on his god to smite down the foes of good. The arrow slammed into the chest of the half orc opposite Tarlin,
killing him instantly. That left only Kylorin and the last half orc, the biggest of the trio. The half orc, wielding a huge
club, stepped in with an overhead smash, fully expecting to crush the puny human. This same attack would most likely easily
kill most foes, but Kylorin was not most foes. He raised his shield, bracing himself for the heavy blow and also angling the
shield to deflect the blow rather than absorb it. That left the half orc off balance, and Kylorin took full advantage. Before
the club even hit the floor, Kylorin was spinning, bringing his longsword around with a powerful backhanded slash that sent
the half orcs head flying toward the bar, nearly giving the barkeep a heart attack. Kylorin turned to face Lanfeust, his blade
at the ready. He was surprised to see Lanfeust and Enigma still sitting. There was no fear in their eyes, and they actually
looked amused at the entire spectacle.
Very impressive, warriors. Those were some
of my best fighters. Im so impressed I wont kill you for destroying my property, Lanfeust said as he sipped his wine.
Stand and face us, villain. This fight is
not yet over, growled Kylorin. Solace and Tarlin nodded their agreement.
Let us end this, Solace spat. Tarlin was muttering the beginnings of a defensive spell.
You fools! snapped Lanfeust. Do
you not realize how easily I can destroy you? I could have a hundred of my men here with a wave of my hand, if I needed them.
And I assure you I do not.
Bring them then. I have grown weary
of this towns lawlessness as well! came a voice from the crowd. A large troll-warrior carrying a huge bastard sword made
his way to the front. He nodded to the other three as he took a place at their side.
I fight when and where I choose,
retorted Lanfeust. And I choose not to destroy you now. You amuse me too much.
Lanfuest smiled as Enigma uttered a few words,
and the inn filled with thick fog, blinding everyone there. When the fog cleared, there was no sign of Lanfeust, Enigma, or
even the bodies of the half orcs. Kylorin, Solace, and Tarlin looked at each other in stunned silence for a moment before
turning to the stranger who stood with them.
You have a noble heart, friend. I am Kylorin,
and I thank you for helping us stand up to him, for what it was worth. These are my friends, Solace Touch and Tarlin. If nothing
else, at least Lanfeust now knows his job will not be as easy as it was. Kylorin shook the warriors hand, as did Solace
and Tarlin.
I am Destrux, and if you need help against him,
my blade will be with you, Destrux said as he shook hands.
A blade that defends the innocent is always
needed. If you all are willing, we will combine out blades to fight against evil and injustice, Kylorin offered. The
other three warriors voiced their agreement. We will become the Blades of Justice, and evil will learn to fear us.
Nightlife? in Ezrin
It was just after midnight when Kylorin left the dorm and
headed toward the inn to get some sleep. It had been a very exciting night of challenge matches, and fun was had by all. Even
those who had been defeated, and would have to wait until the next day to fight again, had seemed to enjoy themselves.. The
moon was low in the sky, full and massive against the dark backdrop of night. A thin fog was also present, combining with
the light of the moon to create an eerie luminescence over almost everything. Pulling his cloak tight to him, Kylorin started
down the street past the church, his mind already envisioning the soft comfort of his pillow.
After just a few moments traveling east he reached
the corner, where the main road made a turn toward the north, passing in front of the Royal Bank and leading eventually to
the local tavern. The inn was where Kylorin spent most of his nights, and it was as close to a home as he knew. The fog had
thickened already, making the inn just barely visible in the gloom. An uneasy feeling entered Kylorins mind, though he could
not fathom why. He shrugged the nagging feeling off, attempting to replace it with thoughts of a bed and a warm blanket. He
reached the inn after a few more minutes of walking, and all uneasiness left him as he reached the warm glow of the window.
The melody of minstrels and the sounds of the local people talking and laughing cascaded out of the building, as the common
room seldom slowed down before two or three in the morning. He was just reaching for the handle of the wooden door when another
sound assaulted him, the shriek of someone in danger, coming from the north side of town.
Kylorin was off in an instant, running north on
the main road at full speed. His clanking armor and weaponry sounded very much like a box of silverware had been tossed down
a flight of stairs. He reached the intersection and paused to get his bearings. To the east was the Mages Tower, almost directly
ahead was the local graveyard, and to west lied the entrance to the forest. Kylorin looked from side to side to side, trying
to decide which way to go, when a second scream pierced the night. This time it was obviously directly ahead, coming from
somewhere in the graveyard. Kylorin ran across the street, and shoved the heavy iron gate open and stepped inside.
Kylorin had never been inside a graveyard at night.
And though he had yet to find something he feared, he could not deny that the atmosphere was unsettling at the very least.
The light of the moon cast long shadows from the tombstones and crypts, combining with the now heavy fog to play tricks on
a persons eyes. At least Kylorin hoped they were tricks. He drew his sword and continued up the main cobblestone path. To
the sides of the path were the graves, some well groomed and covered with fresh flowers, some unkempt and covered in knee-high
weeds. There were even some freshly dug and empty graves, and these bothered Kylorin, though there was no logical reason for
them to do so.
As he reached a point about halfway down the main
walkway, the ground erupted in several places near Kylorin. Rotted hands, heads, and eventually entire zombies pushed their
way out of the earth, their unnatural groans and rasps filling the silence of the night. Recovering from the initial surprise,
he struck at the nearest arms that reached for him, hacking entire limbs away that seemed to continue to grope for him. For
every zombie he dispatched, two more seemed to take its place. Circling away from the core of his enemies, Kylorin managed
to get his back against a large stone monument so he could focus his defense to the front. His sword flashed and sliced, moving
with nearly unnatural quickness. His years of training made his weapon react as if it were an extension of his own arm, rather
than a weapon of steel. Arms and heads were severed, but still the enemy pressed. They were tireless and seemingly endless,
and as his arm grew more and more weary and the sweat poured down his face, Kylorin knew he couldnt them off for much longer.
His arms and legs began to show nicks and gashes where his tiring arm couldnt move his shield quickly enough. From the corner
of his eye he saw a large mausoleum with the door slightly ajar, and knew within it lied his only hope. With a deep breath
he held his shield in front of him and rushed forward, bowling over the shuffling corpses with brute strength. His slashing
blade dispatched a few more of the undead before he thudded against the mausoleum door, quickly sliding inside and focusing
every ounce of strength he could muster to slam it closed behind him.
Kylorin struggled to catch his breath as he realized
he had sealed himself inside a pitch black crypt, in the middle of a graveyard, in the middle of the night. Before he could
lose his composure, however, his warriors training kicked in. Light was the first thing he needed. He sheathed his sword and
slowly felt his way along the wall to the right of the door, sliding his hands up and down the wall's surface. He only had
to go a few feet to find what he was looking for: a torch sconce. He slid the torch out of its bracket, and fumbled through
his belt pouch until he felt his tinderbox. He paused to take a deep breath when he heard from the darkness muffled groans
and scrapes, and realized that he was not alone. He forced himself to focus on lighting the torch, knowing that he needed
light to deal with whatever was in the tomb with him. It took seemingly a thousand strikes to ignite the torch, but eventually
it did light, and he held it aloft to survey his surroundings.
The mausoleum had high ceilings, held up
by thick stone pillars, carved with what might have been the faces of angels but were either worn or had been scratched away.
Against the wall opposite the door was a heavy stone sarcophagus, in front of which was some sort of table or altar. On the
altar was a small human girl, bound and gagged. She had short, dark brown hair and huge blue eyes, filled with a mixture of
fear and hope as she stared at Kylorin. She was obviously the source of the shrieks he had heard from the street and the sounds
he had heard in the darkness. His immediate relief was replaced rapidly with caution as everything clicked together in his
head. The open door. The altar. The bound girl. Someone, or something else was here. Quickly he moved to untie the terrified
little girl, then removed the gag. The little girl looked up with an astonished look in her eyes.
Who are you? she asked, barely audible.
My name is Kylorin, he said as he smiled
at her reassuringly. Ive come to get you out of here. Can you tell me your name?
Im Molly, she replied as she looked up
at him. You sure do wear a lot of shiny metal stuff.
Yes, I suppose I do, Kylorin laughed
despite the current situation. We need to get out of here. Are you alright?
Yes, he didnt hurts me yet, Molly said.
Hes really mean looking though
You can tell me about him later, he responded
quickly. First we have to get to a safe place.
Kylorin picked Molly up and started toward the
door, eager to get both of them out of danger. He knew the zombies were most likely waiting outside, but there was no other
way. He hoped with a little luck he could take them by surprise and rush through them again, protecting Molly with his large
shield. Before he reached the door, a voice from behind him froze him cold in his steps.
Im afraid you cannot simply take my guest
and leave. I cannot allow that, the cold voice chimed throughout the chamber.
Kylorin slowly turned, viewing the stranger who
had voiced the thinly veiled threat. He was a man, approximately his own height, but much thinner. He was dressed in black,
elegant clothing that a duke might wear to a social gathering. His cloak was black as well, though Kylorin could faintly see
that the lining was red. His dark hair was perfectly combed, and his face was clean-shaven and utterly flawless. He looked
every bit the part of a gentleman, except for his skin, which was unnaturally white, the color of alabaster. And when he smiled,
the elongated fangs removed any doubt Kylorin may have had about the pure evil standing in front of him. He slowly set Molly
to the ground, though she clung to him in terror.
Hide, little one, Kylorin instructed,
never taking his eyes off the vampire.
Molly didnt move until she saw Kylorin lay the
torch on the ground, then slowly drew his sword as he stood. Molly, realizing what was about to happen, then did as
she was told, scampering to hide behind one the pillars.
So, you wish to fight me? The creature
asked with an amused smile on his face. Many have done so in the past, though none of the fools survived to tell of Vashaun.
I am no fool, and you have not faced me. I
have trained my entire life to rid the world of evil. Evil like you, Kylorin spat as he slowly advanced toward Vashaun.
So be it then, though in the end you will
be proven as foolish as the rest, the vampire replied.
Kylorin charged at the vampire, swinging his longsword
in a vicious overhead slash, but the blade only clattered against the stone floor. Vashaun moved with astonishing speed, side-stepping
the blow and clawing at Kylorins throat. It was all Kylorin could do to raise his shield in time to block the assault. Immediately
Kylorin knew he may be in serious trouble. His hatred of evil fueled him, but Vashaun was simply too fast and too strong,
and Kylorin was already exhausted. He parried the attackers onslaughts, even managing to get a few slashes through Vashauns
defenses, though they did seemingly little damage. It was only a matter of time before he tired, and he knew the vampire would
not. Already he was growing weary, and the light was fading, as the torch on the floor began to sputter. Darkness would remove
all hope. Kylorin decided quickly that if he was to die, it would be with honor, hopefully giving Molly a chance to escape.
Run Molly, run little one!! Kylorin screamed
as he charged directly toward the vampire, intending to crash into him and hoping to hold him long enough for Molly
to make it to safety. He never saw if she listed to him, and he realized all too quickly that his valiant effort was a foolish
one. Vashaun moved even quicker than before, casually stepping to the side and grabbing Kylorins sword arm, spinning him around
and using his own momentum to send Kylorin sprawling. His blade flew from his hand, skittering across the stone mausoleum
floor. Kylorin rolled over to face his enemy, but he was too late. Vashaun was already on him, inches from his face. His fangs
and claws were bared as he paused to relish the victory before closing in for the kill. Kylorin realized in despair that his
shield was pinned beneath his body. A strange peace entered his spirit, and his mind was filled with hopes that Molly had
managed to escape.
Dont you hurt Mr. Shiny Kylorin!!!
a tiny voice shrieked from the shadows.
Both Kylorin and Vashaun, startled and surprised,
turned to look for the little girl. Kylorin, however, quickly recovered when he noticed something on the ground from the corner
of his eye. Using every bit of speed and strength he could manage, he snatched the dying torch from the ground and planted
its narrow end into Vashauns chest. Vashaun looked down in utter disbelief, then collapsed to the floor, clutching weakly
at the improvised stake imbedded in his chest. He unleashed a deafening, unnatural howl, his face and hands beginning to shrivel,
and the undead became the merely dead. Kylorin got to his feet and ran to Molly, hoping to shield her from this sight, a sight
no child should have to see. He collected his sword, sheathing it as he picked the child up.
Are you alright, Mr. Kylorin? Molly asked
meekly.
Yes, thanks to you, he smiled back to
her. Now, lets get you back to your parents. Im sure they are worried.
I dont gots any parents, The girl said
sadly. I live in the house with the other kids that dont gots any. But I ran away and gots lost.
Kylorin cringed at that, but said nothing as he
moved toward the door. He himself was an orphan, and it pained him to think of these children. He began to push open the mausoleum
door, determined that whatever may be outside would not stand in his way.
Three months after this fateful night, Kylorin stood
looking at a newly constructed building. It was located near the church, in middle of town. With Kylorin stood Molly, and
the members of the Blades of Justice: Solace Touch, Destrux, Tarlin, and Omen, the newest member. An elven mage, she was a
very welcome change of scenery to the group. With the help of his team, he had returned to the graveyard and cleansed it of
the few remaining undead beasts. The priest Tarlin had once again sanctified the area as well. The building they were all
now watching was the new orphanage that Kylorin had commissioned to be built. He had spared no expense, giving these poor
children a comfortable home. He had also made sure the place would be well guarded, hiring and training the guards himself.
He hoped the Logan-Karandora House, which he dedicated to his murdered parents, would give these orphans a little comfort,
comfort that he never had.
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