The Story So Far

The Turn
He just remembers trying to scream. His muscles seem locked somehow or asleep. He wasn’t being held down by magic, so it must be some sort of potion or concoction that the pale lady had given him to drink to signify their deal. He had drunken deeply from the cup but apparently not enough. All he could tell was that his hands and feet were bound and that he was hung upside down on what appeared to be a wooden table. There were all sorts of distorted figures he could make out hazily walking around him and making awful noises and the stench…the stench was unbearable. Wherever he was it smelled awful of rotting and decomposing flesh.

Elan was a mess. He hadn’t slept shaved or bathed in too long. He didn’t want to move. He wanted to either be asleep or sit at the table with his cup and jug and drink till he was asleep again. Liliana wouldn’t approve of this behavior Elan had never drank when they were married but now it seemed to be the only recourse for his pain. One night just shy of being comatose again, he called out from the depths of his soul for anyone anything that could help take the pain away. If he could only be with his beloved Liliana again he would do anything. He didn’t know if it was really happening or in a dream as that line seemed to blur in his drunken stupors, but he dreamed that night of he was approached someone who referred to themselves as the “pale lady”. They had struck a deal or so it seemed that this lady could reunite Elan with his beloved for a small price and she seemed to genuinely want to help him so Elan didn’t even think of asking what this price was for something so great. She had promised to meet him later that week in the same place he had no idea where he was and thought he might be dreaming. She had said she would bring him to meet his beloved.

The same pale lady now approached dressed in a black gown that seemed in disrepair but yet could still be only called a gown fit for queens. She knelt down beside him and put a hand on his face oh my ” ” was her hand cold he thought. She peered into his eyes and he saw nothing as they stared back into his own. They seemed lifeless and as he slowly focused his eyes more on her features he began to shudder at the sight. Her flesh was rotting. What appeared to be a once beautiful woman was now nothing more than a rotting corpse in front of him. “Ah you seem to be waking up now finally sweetie we were beginning to wonder how long you would take to regain some of your sense. Welcome to my humble abode. Now we just need to take care of some tidying up her with our contract here and then we can get down to business. “Her voice was oddly melodic to Elan but it seemed to echo in his mind coldly. She produced a piece of parchment and a pen from where he couldn’t see and said “Now you seemed to want to see your beloved Liliana or something again correct. I will take your silence as a yes” she smiled and laughed. “So good of you to agree. In return I require your service for a period of time as I see fit but will remain undetermined for now. Your duties I will determine later after I can assess your abilities and what you might be useful for. The more useful you are the less you have to do…maybe. All I need from you is your signature. “Warning bells were going off in his head and he was realizing that his initial meeting with this pale lady was not in fact a dream but reality. He went to say anything but found he was still paralyzed and numb. “Can’t say anything or move sweetie…that’s okay I will just sign for you and assume that this is what you want.” He could only stare in horror as the quill magically and effortlessly floated over to the line marked with an x on their contract and watched as it perfectly replicated his name and penmanship. “Done and done I’m so glad we could agree on this aren’t you” she smiled and seemed very pleased with herself and whatever hold over him she had just won. She stood back up and smoothed the front of her dress and this time in a completely different voice that sounded nothing like the sweet voice that had just bullied him into a contract of servitude “cut him and drain him I want him ready to collect my other debtors by the beginning of the week. And be careful with this one he seems special and I have big plans for him” That last part sounded like a death threat if he had ever heard one. It was in fact a death sentence and even though for the next two days as he was slowly drained of all fluids and ritually sacrificed to dark powers he had wished for death it wouldn’t come…at least not the death he was hoping for

Old Friend
He walked into his house which now looked like it was abandoned. If someone had used to live here, it wasn’t apparent. He threw his things into the corner and flopped on the pallet that he slept on now. His large, down filled bed sat unused against the wall.

His few thoughts were being drowned out by a mixed cacophony of crying, moaning and then oddly enough laughter. He could understand the crying, he had just seen another ghast drag down a soul to the abyss. He could understand the moaning, the undead he now frequently associated with made noises that made his desiccated insides shiver. The laughter on the other hand, he had no clue whatsoever why that would be in his mind.

He laid there for a while as he relived the moments that had transpired just hours before. The nice thing is that even though very many of his ‘clients’ were from the Dregs, almost an even amount seemed to be from the nicer parts of the city. His hands reached for his pockets and pulled out 2 gold rings, 1 necklace with pearls and some fine silverware. Not too bad in all honesty. He didn’t pilfer these items for some need of money though.

Food, meh. Place to stay, he had his old home as well as a new place to lay low, the sewers. He almost preferred his new hiding spot in the fetid sewers running below parts of the city, the rats there were decent company and didn’t remind him of his wife. Clothes, well he did kind of need to keep them fresh actually. His old acquaintance, Avar, had his proverbial ear to ground and seemed to have his fingers dabbling in about half of the honey jars in Kell Na’dar. If anyone knew some way to get out of his ‘predicament’ he was as good a place as any to start. Now to just track down Avar … or would he be Tidbit tonight?

The Taste
He was exiting the abandoned warehouse where he and Avar had just set up another deal like it was in the old days. He and Avar had been associates before. When he was still enrolled in the College of Wizardry studying contently during the day and spending the evenings with his wife at home where she kept a neat house and a warm bed. He was a cleric in the church of Authras, if it could be called that. Sermons for him were mainly just long winded thesis statements on the revolution of the earth and moon and the orbits of planets. Sometimes it would be about some obscure plant or animal that one of them had discovered or it would be about the economical status of the nation and how they were heading into troubled grounds for their future. Occasionally though it would be about some topic that piqued Elan’s curiosity. Maybe something about a new holy relic being discovered some expedition into unknown tombs or ancient kings or the theological differences between Bramd and Dela’Dorn. He and Avar were business partners of sorts. Elan didn’t hang out in the dregs too often at this time and Avar didn’t have access to some of the resources that Elan could use. They were both interested and trafficked information, Avar for wealth and Elan for his natural hunger for knowledge. Sometimes they paid each other for the other’s services and other times there was a mutual agreement for services. Now however, he was rather desperate for help and proved that to Avar by putting money up front in return for some potential information on how to reverse his current condition. He knew Avar was sharp enough to most likely have figured out what was going on. He had laid out roughly what had happened to him in the past few months and it was a bit of relief to actual be able to confide in someone again and get it off his chest.

He continued further into the dregs towards a seedy brothel. He had been tracking his newest quarry for some time now. Earlier in the morning he had watched the man go from the docks to a tavern back to the docks and then finish off his shift back at the alehouses. As his newest debtor had teetered on drunken stupor, he watched him head to a house in search of more feminine company. It was then that Nalen left him to his devices and decided to delay the inevitable and look up Avar while in this side of town. He waited for maybe half an hour while on the other side of the terribly maintained street after his business meeting with Avar when there was bit of commotion in the house he was watching. Suddenly the front door was burst apart as a man come flying through it. A dwarf whose only features he could make out in the darkness were his red eyes and flashes of metal when he growled at the man now lying in the street.
“Really Dhent? I have asked you three times to open the door then throw them out. Is it really that difficult?”
The dwarf almost managed to look regretful for what he had did…almost. The dwarf walked out into the street to apparently finish the job when Nalen emerged from the shadows and walked towards him as well. “Mind if I finish this one off for you? You can search him for anything valuable first if you want I have no desire to rob him. He owe me but it’s not money I’m after” The dwarf seemed not to give a shit and looked disapprovingly at Nalen. From the brothel came another scream and the call of “Dhent”. “Seems like you are needed elsewhere as well.” The dwarf sniffed uncaringly but almost seemed to relieve to head back inside…almost. Nalen headed back to the man that was drunk, beat up, and now semi unconscious. He mumbled a few words under his breath and slowly willed the man to stand up and follow.

He walked around to the other end of the dregs where the sewer gate was slightly loosened and led the man into his new favorite place to collect debts. He twisted his way through the dank tunnels until he came to a slight clearing where multiple sewer lines converged and stepped up onto the slightly raised platform off to the side where the city workers staged their repairs from. He brushed off a small amount of debris with his boots and then intoned the words that brought forth the undead to this realm. The now familiar smell of rotting flesh and acrid breath didn’t bother him too much anymore and barely even flinched as the horror appeared before him.

“You have been busy Nalen the other collectors aren’t pulling as many numbers as you have been this past week. Trying to show off for Azerot and earn her favor?”

“No just the last couple people have had unsavory lives and I almost jumped at the chance to drag their souls from their bodies it’s starting to be invigorating almost” He lied outright. He hated this. The look in the eyes of those whose souls he was ripping from them. The anguish in their faces as potentially it wasn’t them that were paying for their debts but maybe a loved one. Invigorating no.

“Good I hear that enjoying your work leads to a happy life…or in your case unlife” the creature hissed at him and gave a wicked smile.

“Shut up let me release him and get this over with.” He released the spell on the drunk man and he immediately vomit as his faculties were returned to him and then he fell face down into the pile. Nalen sighed and then turned his head sharply as he could swear that he could hear laughing. “You hear that?” he asked the ghast next to him.

“Hear what?”

“Nevermind, I’m not going to read him his contract he is too drunk to know what I am saying and it’s not like this is exactly the High Courts so who cares.”

“One of these days you will have to learn to do this by yourself we grow tired of helping you or at least we would if we didn’t enjoy this so much. Come over here in fact” the ghast commanded.

Nalen walked over as he watched the ghast produce the chain that would wrench the soul from the drunkard. He lashed out with the chain as it caught the main around neck and wrapped around his throat. He handed the chain to Nalen and said simply, “Pull.”

He tugged on the chain as he had seen the others do but it only pulled the man back face down in to his own vomit again. “No,” said the ghast, “pull his soul.” Nalen tried again this time but focused on pulling the soul with the chain and not the man. The man came nearly fully out on his first pull “it is easier when they aren’t resisting” said his undead companion, “but not nearly as fun. Pull him all the way out now.” Nalen continued with another pull and the man free of his own body. The man’s ghostly apparition was being dragged face down into the sewer and as the last part of him came free a strange surge slowed up through the chain around the man’s neck and into Nalen. It filled him it seemed with a vile prescence. It invaded his mind but for at least for a few seconds the sounds in his mind subsided and gave him a moment’s peace from the noise. “At least you can do that part now, we just have to get you to be able to take their souls below and then you won’t have to call upon us anymore.” The ghast walked over to the drunk mans soul with his hunched gait and picked him up. “If only it was my turn for a soul he would be mine.” He licked his lips hungrily at the pale image of the man hungrily and sighed. “Maybe next time.” He took the chain from Nalen and then led the man back to underworld.

Nalen backed away from the body after shoving into the main tunnel and he walked back into the clearing and put his back to the wall and slid down till he was sitting. His eyes looked wild and his thoughts were racing. The strange surge from pulling the man’s soul was having some weird effects on him. He felt stronger he felt as if he had eaten a full meal and rested even though he never slept or ate and never felt hungry or tired anymore. It was odd to feel this way after months of feeling just, well dead. His mind was a little clearer than normal without all the background noise. His thoughts were drifting randomly to his wife when suddenly he felt a stabbing pain his neck and that laughter again. Shaken from his drifting memory he had an odd thought. He nudged the soulless body as he walked out back into the main spillway so it would drift into another part of town and exited the sewer and headed back into town.

A New Deal
N’alen was fleeing down the streets of the dregs with Avar trying to look inconspicuous when he noticed something. His breathing wasn’t heavy and his heart was racing. In fact his heart wasn’t beating at all. This was odd to him; he hadn’t had any exhilarating experiences since his life was ripped from him slowly. His pause was momentary however, whether or not his body was acting like he almost was destroyed, it had happened nonetheless.
Avar motioned for him to follow him through the streets the bard knew so well. He directed him through a small alley that opened up into a decently busy market. He looked at his cloak and saw some blood splatter. Removing the symbol he had just retrieved from the sewn secret pocket and some loose gold, he tossed it into an alley. Moving to a nearby table he picked up another cloak and tossed the man a silver piece as the merchant started to haggle price. He moved on.
After feeling safe that he wasn’t being followed Avar turned to N’alen. “I have some business to take care of so I’m off. I will see you tonight where we already talked about.” And with that the bard winked, turned and walked off with his signature jaunt. N’alen took a brief bearing of where he was and made his way to the edge of Kel Na’dar.
After reaching the city walls he glanced over his in both directions and feeling confident no one was watching he slipped through the gate and made his way down the sewers to his home as of late. He followed the tunnels till he reached his little landing where he frequently stopped during his long nights. He pressed his back against the cold, wet tunnel wall and slid down it till his knees were at his chest. He closed his eyes briefly and reached into his pocket and pulled out the recognizable symbol of Ariel, a slight burning sensation tingled through his hands. “I got something for you, we need to talk.”

There was a moment of odd tugging and felt himself standing now…and the smell was awful, a mix of death and rot. “What is it you have?” the words almost seemed to be hissed as they lingered in the air.

N’alen held up the symbol of Ariel showing it to Azerot and she visibly flinched at the sight.

“Where did you get that?” the hoarse voice spoke again.

“Cleric of Ariel found himself in the wrong part of Kel Na’dar and on the wrong person’s list. He didn’t need it anymore, thought I would take it.”

“You seem to be in a bartering mood, what is it you want?”

“This symbol is of your enemy if I remember my studies correctly.” The reply came flat and emotionless. “Think this could be part of my debt I owe, this has to be worth more than just 1 person’s soul. This cleric had swords that seemed to erupt within me, he hunted the undead, and he was hunting me. I want to speed up this payment plan we have arranged. If I collect their souls as well as the people that owe you debts, I think that should count as extra.”

“You make an interesting proposition N’alen. I think we can make something like that happen; you’re not prepared for it though. They are trained to hunt you, how do you think you can protect yourself. Come here; let’s see what I have to work with”

N’alen walked over cautiously as Azerot placed her pale hands on his temples, “No this won’t do at all, relax your mind N’alen, this is going to hurt.” There was a long silence and a change in her face, “but not as much as it will hurt Ariel.”

The sound of Azerot’s cruel laughter filled the chamber…

Caught Between a Rock…and a Wall
Nalen looked down at his right arm again and cringed. It had been crushed in the doorway when the room finally slammed shut. It had crushed the demons left inside that cell he had previously been trapped in. His mind flashed back to a few minutes earlier. The piles of flesh had lashed out at him with cruel claws and he raised his new shield to ward off their blows. Every now and then he would lower his shield and try to strike back at his attackers. Each time he did so he felt like his attempts were futile. His magic seemed of ill use too. He had desperately called out to Azerot asking that today not be his last. She must have heard him and found some pity in the cold black heart because his companions had pried open the door barely enough at the last second.

He remembered again the sight of his arm when it had just been crushed and how it just simply fell off with no resistance. His companions had looked at him rather oddly when there was no blood and that his arm simply lay there on the ground now. He picked it up trying to remain calm and it into his sack where he had just previously stored a skeleton. Speaking of the skeleton it stood there along with the wights staring back at him blankly. Avar had started to set up some bedrolls for himself and the others looked to be getting into a position to rest and the preseence of the undead seemed to make them uneasy. He mentally dismissed the trio and stationed them at the exits of the corner of the sewers they were in and informed them to alert him of any other presences if they came this way. With that command the wights went to the to exit and the skeleton with shield and sword still in hand the other. The others seemed to be momentarily relieved that sets of blank eyes were upon them and Nalen allowed himself to relax his muscles as well.

“Curse this decrepit body.” he muttered to himself. He put his back up against the wall and slid down His chain mail making a grating sound on the pipe wall behind him. He shook his shield off his left arm and looked again at the stump on his right. “Azerot,” his thought went out “your servant desires your counsel if you please.”

“Aahh poor Nalen, I thought you would be calling me soon. I see you have lost a limb you pathetic weakling. I suppose you want me to do something about that, another bargain perhaps?” The question seemed to echo in his mind mockingly as the last syllables rolled off her tongue in his head. He cringed at the thought of being even more in debt to her service but he had since given up at this point to ever being free. His only option at this point was to just grow as powerful as possible in her presence till one day…he left the thought silent as she was in his mind.

“Prove to me that you can be useful with one hand Nalen, and then I will see if you are fit for my blessing. I think you are up to the challenge apparently you’re not as weak as I thought, it seems that you have been able to at least command some simple undead to do your bidding. I am not surprised due to your kinship to them. I tell you what worm, you get out of the Undercity, which I doubt you will and prove yourself to be a true servant and I will give you my blessing and the gift of power you can’t even begin to fathom. When you return the dregs of Kelnadar I will put in contact with one of my more esteemed living disciples name Detrach Kach. He will be able to give you what you need, only if you ask me of it first. List me your demands. I will let him know what to prepare should make it out of here with your unlife. “
Nalen thought and paused for a moment.

“My current company seems to be unarmored and frail in the front lines of combat. I wish to have armor that will let me withstand the blows of our enemies that I might reave their life from them and offer you their souls. I wish to have the touch of the wights that I command, that my mere touch weaken my enemies. I demand a replacement for the mace that I just lost, I want weapon worthy of a commander of your undead servants. Grant me another arm stronger than the one I was born with. Give me access to the collective knowledge of the undead. Let me tap into that ancient wisdom of necromancy and connect my minds with theirs. Through this knowledge my power can only increase, and with my power comes your glory and infamy. If you will not grant me this knowledge then I demand the ability to sacrifice some of my power of the undead to raise the power of my magic to new heights. “

“You demand from me you filth?”, her voice raising an octave. “This is a side of you I am not used to seeing. You normally go about sniveling and fawning to everyone. Maybe you aren’t useless after all. Let’s start small worm and we will see about your other demands if you don’t survive the rest of the Undercity. You want the knowledge the undead possess Nalen, careful what you wish for next time.”
And with the final words, her presence was gone in her mind. His mind felt relaxed for minute and wondered what she meant. Then all at once it him, his mind reeled back from the sudden rush of information. Memories, images, smells, sounds, thoughts all come flooding into his mind and invading his thoughts. The intrusion of his mind lasted for several minutes and then it stopped. His mind seemed to swirl with new thoughts and ideas. It was almost like a constant chatter in a guttural tongue of many voices. After a while he realized he could push the voice out and bring it forth again. He recognized a voice in his head, it was the man he had first collected. His thoughts and memories were now a part of him and apparently he was very talented stonemason.

Back to Work
He was walking amongst the shops in the dregs for the first time in a few weeks. He had changed clothes and washed what was left of his still thinning black hair. He was perusing some of the wares of an out of the way shop when felt the pulling in the back of his mind. His eyes went distant for a minute and then the directions came. He turned around and got his bearings in the city and then started a purposefully march in the opposite direction. Someone wanted to save their son from dying 3 years and had pleaded to the gods for mercy, only one turned an ear to help. Azerot the merciful, he laughed to himself at the thought. The only reason Azerot would ever be merciful would be to let them build false hope only to rip it away later. “Merciful my rotted ass” he said as he passed the street that led into the more common area of the city. He was almost anticipating this one for some reason…

Later on that night, Nalen was back in the sewers to check his traps. He had moved some of the looser stones in the brick work of the sewer. He laid the bricks down and propped one end up with old arrow shafts he kept from the old marksman he paid a visit to the other night. Attached to the bottom of the arrow shafts were small bits of string which were looped around various pieces of dried fruit or bread he had left from the rest stop outside of Chant before the misadventures in the Undercity. His plan was the various rodents to grab the cheese, pull the strings and hope brick would fall on them. As he approached his first trap, he could see the rock still standing. The same for the second and the third. The fourth one was down but no rat. He was heading towards his last 2 when he felt a sharp pain in his side. Running his hand down he felt that there was an arrow in him.

“why did you put strawberries on the floor!!!!!” came a tiny voice from behind him. He turned and looked but could see nothing.

“kip?” he questioned empty space.

“well who else stumpy, a different 1 armed man?” and with that a tiny pixie appeared covered in various shades of green all over his person and a small bump forming on his brow.

“I am sorry Kip, I am trying to catch rats for an idea I have, I had no intention of harming you” he said flatly and softly.

“OOOOOHHHH catching rats?! I like those, i caught one once when we in the Undercity and it was squirming and it was like holding onto a tornado all wiggly like.”

“well if you like catching them, i will buy you some green dye from the market tomorrow if you catch me some”

“Green dye?” the pixie squealed thrusting his arms and legs out in front of him in excitement, “deal.”

Nalen extended his hand and the pixie came up and grabbed Nalen’s little finger on his remaining and they shook. As they did, the tip of Nalen’s finger fell off into Kip’s unexpecting grasp. Kip’s eyes went wild for minute in surpise and after looking at the finger, then Nalen, then the finger again, He squeaked in excitement then promptly vanished and flew away. Nalen could hear the final thoughts of the pixie.

“I am gonna put this in someone’s soup!” as the sound of laughter carried on down through the sewer corridor.

Nalen looked down at his hand missing a part of digit, then looked at the cloth wrapped stump on his right arm and dropped his head with a sigh.

Stepping Out
He made the final touches to his face then and then looked into the reflecting glass to check himself one more time. Not too shabby he thought to himself. Nalen had been busy since he and his friend’s last adventure. He was doing more work for Azerot than before and it was showing. He wasn’t so gaunt and his skin almost had a tcouh of warmth to it. He had decided to use this period of not looking like death to do some purchasing of supplies he felt would be needed on the upcoming days working with Avar again. He had acquired some nicer clothes during a collection of a slender nobleman that was about his height. He had pilfered them and wrapped them up in cheap rugs he had also found in the residence. Now those same packages were tied with twine and Nalen loaded them into his packs. He wakled out through the sewers and climbed up onto the surface of the city. He went behind an old abandoned building and changed into his nicer clothes to to seem more apprpriate for his new wealth and the items he wished to purchase.His doublet was of a deep black trimmed in grey around the hem and the neck. It was laced up the front with a black lace and the two ends hung at the bottom. His doublet extending to about mid thigh and came to a lower point in the front. His pants were of loose linen and his boots of soft leather that had some wear to them already. His under tunic was of a soft, dark grey linen that was open and loose at the cuffs. His stump arm he had pinned the loose fabric together and hid it under his cloak. His new cloak was again a deep black trimmed in matching grey with a silver clasp at the front that held a chain across with rectangular links. He wore his pack underneath the cloak and behind him to conceal its small bulk.

He had the list in his head as he walked through the busier parts of the market. He ducked into a shop parting the beaded curtains that hid its wares partialy from the outside view. The shopkeep was an older wizened man with a long white beard and deep blue robe.
“Welcomes young master,” the old man sang out as Nalen entered the shop, “What can I help you find this fine day?”

“Good morning to you as well,” Nalen replied “I am looking for a few rods that have magical properties. I remember reading about when I studied the arts long ago. They had the ability to effect the spells you were casting in various ways. Have you heard of them?”

“Yes, yes I think I have just what you are looking for. Come over here” The old man hobbled over to the far end of the shop where he had a table with multiple rods laying out for display. They all had various engravings and symbols etched into their various surfaces, some of metal and others of exotic woods. “Is there a particular type of effect you are looking for in particular?”

“Yes.” Nalen reached down and picked one up that had 3 circles linked together engraved into its dark wooden surface. “What does this one do?”

“That one there is Rod of Chaining. Here let me show what it can do.” The old man took the rod in his hand and with his other drew out a small pinch of some dust from his pouch at his side. With a blow of his breath to his hand the material took flight and he murmured a word under his breath and pointed a finger from his now empty hand into the wand and 3 small burts of fire in short succession to light 3 tallow wicks standing on a nearby candlebra.

“Very impressive” Nalen clapped his hands together in joy. He was trying to play the part of spoiled nobleman easily impressed by these parlor tricks. “I like that one a lot I do. What about this one?” Nalen picked up another rod that seemed longer than the others lying near it.

“Oh yes another good choice young friend. This one will extend the length of any spell you cast through it up to a certain degree. The more powerful, deep magics won’t be effected by it.” The old man lowered his voice and made grandiose gestures as if to impress his newest customer.

“Oh that would be much much, beyond anything I could ever hope for, I don’t have nearly the gift and power that someone such as yourself would have. I merely want to impress some ladies and make the other nobles jealous at my parties with some entertainment.” He snapped his fingers and exclaimed, “thats the other thing I want! There is another man that does magic at his parties that does a small teleportation trick, I have to be able to do something bigger to best him.” His volume growing to emphasize his point.

“Well then you are in luck today.” The old man walked over to another part of the shop and opened up a chest that was filled with all sorts of trinket and jewelry. Its top lining had slits sewn into and held rings while the bottom portion was sectioned off and compartmentalized with layers of trays. He pulled out a few trays and seemed to rummage through until he stopped and picked up a thin circle that was double braided with gold and silver, on it hung a single charm that resembled a pair of boots.” Here put it it on,” the old man insisted.

“How?” Nalen asked acting dumb.

“Simply push it on, the ankle will take care of the rest, the nobles would definitely be impressed by this, I haven’t sold one in quite some time.”

Nalen seemed to disbelievingly put the anklet on around his leg as the material let his body pass through until it was on his leg.

“Now concentrate on a point not too off and mentally put yourself there.”

Nalen focused then blinked to a spot in the shop about 10 ft away. He turned around wide eyed “Perfect! The ladies will love this!”

The old man and Nalen went over a few more trinkets and he picked out another ring. Finally Nalen said he other things to attend to and wanted to settle the matter of price. The old man tossed out a number than Nalen wanted to pay. Nalen reached behind in his cloak and grabbed his money pouch and pulled a few platinum pieces from it. “I had a different number in mind. You have been a great help and I would love to continue to purchase these rare treasures from you as my father gives me more of my large inheritance and I have nothing else I would rather spend it on.” He let the words sink in before continuing, “I just don’t have all that much on me currently, but trust me I will be back assuredly to purchase more. Think of it as gaining repeat business. All I have on me is 20 platinum pieces for the 2 rods, the ring and the anklet. I haven’t even looked at other shops yet to see if there are other items I could purchase for a better price…” He left the words hanging as if to let the old man know it was his turn in the game.

__

Nalen continued his walk through the markests looking for the armorers row of shops. He finally found them by simply folowing the smell of smoke and sound of the hammers ringing against various metals. He walked past several until he found the sign he was looking for and stopped at the entrance waiting to be noticed. After a few more blows of the hammer, a man looked up from his worked and eyed Nalen. He was an ugly looking man. His face was pockmarked and his eyes bulged in their sockets and he was bald. His arms were bare from the burned scarred white tunic the man whore. He was well muscled and about half a hand shorter than Nalen.

The man squinted and inquired roughly, “Whaddya want fancypants?”

“I come looking for a blacksmith named Detrach, I was told this is his shop, my mistress informed him to make some armor for me and I am here to pick it up.”

“Never heard of him, leave.” The ugly man snarled back.

“Are you sure? I was told this is his sigil and the location, I have platinum to pay for the piece that was commisioned for me, its purpose is unique to me.” he left it hanging to entice the man to reveal himself.

“Come ‘ere, let me touch your skin, want to see if you are who I think you are.” Nalen walked forward as the man reached out a hand and put it around Nalen’s neck and squeezed. Nalen looked on unphased. “No pulse eh? Alright, ya im Detrach, and don’t get to spreadin’ it aroun neither.”

“No fear of that, is my armor ready?”

“Ya its here, step back with me here a moment, I don’t keep certain things out in the front for everyone to see.” Detrach led him through a sturdy oak door and into an open room with a cellar door in the floor and heavy metal ring on top. Detrach lifted the door and took a candle from the wall and led Nalen down an old ladder of lashed wood. Nalen could see why he kept this hidden, the room was full of grotesque looking weapons, armor and various other tools that reminded him of his time during his transformation. Detrach picked up a black breastplate from a shelf that looked newly dyed and held it up. “This wat your lookin fer?”

Nalen eyed it up and down. “Yes, that is perfect.”

The breastplate was of thick leather and the top portion covering the upper chest 1 solid piece with smaller tiers coming off of the bottom extending down to the waist. It was enclosed on 1 side and the open side closed with leather strapping. The pauldrons covered the upper half of the arm and leather scales extended down from the bottom to cover down to the elbow. The armor was engraved with various sigils around all of the edges almost as if they were sentences. The front of the of the armor was a wicked stylized visage of a creature Nalen didn’t see too often tooled on armor. All over the armor there were leather spikes riveted to the surface giving it a sleek but deadly look.

“Now we talk price.” the old man grunted as he sat down on a nearby stool. After debating the price and handing over the requested amount Nalen noticed something on closer look of the smith’s arms.

“What are those symbols on your skin, I didn’t notice them at first, are those divine symbols?”

“Aye, it marks me in 2 ways. I have little ability to cast spells myself of moderate power. Back in the days that I did work like you I didn’t have enough in me required to do collecting and the blacksmithing work she asked me to do for her minions. She appreciated my work down here enough eventually that I don’t have to do grunt work like yourself. I use these sigils to instill the power into the armor. Your armor’s ability to drain the life from others comes from this sigil here. All I did was purchase some leather armor from a fella two shops down and infuse it with power. I added some artistic touches too.” Detrach noted as he pointed just above his elbow on his right arm. “She stitched me herself actually. The symbols are the spells she inscribed into my skin. Painful process really and took quite some time.”

“Interesting” Nalen mused aloud rubbing his chin.

“Interesting or interesting?”

“Interested actually. Why do you ask?”

“Come back to me when you got more coin on you grunt, your purse looks too thin to undertake this work. Come find me when you’re richer and in the mood for pain.”

The Ballad of Sir Bah’Rane and Dragons of Darkness
… and as Sir Bah’Rane threw down his shivered lance and turned his charger to look upon the death throes of the fearsome beast, a brief instant of terror took him. The dragon was not gasping its last, but instead swelling to an even larger size and screaming its rage into the sky. As his gaze followed the beast’s change, an even more stunning and fear invoking transformation took place. The giant, black dragon became a dark mist which then poured out into three forms. In mere moments, Sir Bah’Rane was facing not one, but three devilishly dark dragons. Through sheer force of will, he quenched the flickering thoughts of flight, drew forth his sword, Silver’s Flame, and spurred his destrier into a valiant charge…

Dockside Chant
And it’s haul boys, haul
Make fast those ropes to the pier
Help the river lads stow their gear
And it’s haul boys, haul

And it’s haul boys, haul
Roll those barrels down the dock
Winch that crate, carry the crock
And it’s haul boys, haul

And it’s haul boys, haul
Drive that stock to the stall
Care with that casket and the pall
And it’s haul boys, haul

And it’s haul boys, haul
Shoulder those sacks of wheat and beans
Move and load those bundles of greens
And it’s haul boys, haul

And it’s haul boys, haul
Pushing that freight for a hard day’s pay
Spent on drink, soothe the pain away
And it’s haul boys, haul

And it’s haul boys, haul
With a smile and a wink and a touch of luck
You’ll charm a pretty wench, and get a fuck
And it’s haul boys, haul

And it’s haul boys, haul
An hour before dawn, it’s back to the quay
Heaving those bales for another damn day
And it’s haul boys, haul

Kell Na’dar City Guard Cadence
Hup, hup, hup, hup,
One, two, three, four,
Hup, hup, hup, hup,

You wanna walk the highborn runs,
Gotta ‘ave the birth or get the funds,
First you’ll have to gain the rank,
Then wash off the city’s stank

Hup, hup, hup, hup,

If you get the Floaters, you are made,
A fine bit o’ walkin on the promenade,
Guard those bridges, check those cards,
Do your work, gain the rewards.

Hup, hup, hup, hup,
Hup, hup, hup, hup,

You might just get a Trades patrol,
Learn the merchants, know your roll,
Watch for the thief, watch for the cheat,
Don’t let ‘em scoot on your beat.

Hup, hup, hup, hup,

In the Commons, you’ll earn your truck,
Good or bad, it’s all about the luck,
A common place for the common man,
Pace the streets, stick to the plan.

Hup, hup, hup, hup,
Hup, hup, hup, hup,

The Docks are nice, by the day,
Not a bad place to earn your pay,
If by night, keep a wary eye,
You’re tossed in the river if’n you die.

Hup, hup, hup, hup,

Skirt the Dregs, if you can,
It’s not worth the life of a man,
If you have to turn that stone,
Don’t get caught on your own.

Hup, hup, hup, hup,
One, two, three, four,
Hup, hup, hup, hup.

River Ditty
And it’s down the Kell we’ll go,
Driving cargo to and fro,
Tie off the ropes and grab a pole,
Catch the wind to ease the droll.
Smell the scent of the river clean,
Enjoy the time in the shaded stream.

Don’t get fooled by the tranquil sound,
It’s a whole lot of work ‘fer where we’re bound,
Toil and trial awaits the hand,
A day on the river is rarely bland,
‘Ware ye be of the sunken log,
‘Ware ye be of bandits in the fog.

With a fine crew, we’ll make the dock,
Unload the goods, roll out the stock,
Grab our pay, brush off the mist,
To the tavern, ‘n get good and pissed.
If those dockside boys want a row,
We’ll show them all, with a heave and a ho.

Mally’s Ride
Ride for the boys, Mally, ride for the boys

A late one morning, did sleepy Mally rise
To spy the army’s dust hanging on the skies
His armor and his sword he did don in haste
And off to the stables Mally he did race

Ride for the boys, Mally, ride for the boys

The stalls were all but empty, and Mally did cry
The hand saw his plight and to help he would try
For a wild willed pony was kept out in the yard
And a close fight it was, to saddle that wee pard

Ride for the boys, Mally, ride for the boys

And off down the road strong Mally he did ride
For that wicked little pony she had a wicked stride
Nigh shaken to bits, when the army Mally saw
Taking cover by a fence behind the stony wall

Ride for the boys, Mally, ride for the boys

Mally pulled the reigns to slow his hurried gait
But the little pony whinnied and speeded up her rate
O’er the stone fence the pony she did take flight
And Mally’s face fell as of the enemy he caught sight

Ride for the boys, Mally, ride for the boys

The soldiers sounded a cheer as Mally led the charge
And o’er the wall they went, the tiny and the large
T’was the adversary’s face then that darkly did fall ill
As Mally on a pony led the army down the hill

Ride for the boys, Mally, ride for the boys

The rival line then chose to scatter, break and run
As Mally crossed the tattered ground on his minute dun
Again the army cheered as their charge came to a halt
But great Mally kept on riding, at the pony’s fault

Ride for the boys, Mally, ride for the boys
Ride for the boys, Mally, ride for the boys

She was perfect, a tangential sojourn from mediocrity.

It had been weeks since my bloody exodus from father’s oppressive parentage, and I found myself in the grip of a desperate need, a hunger: not the hunger that insures one’s meager survival, but the emptiness associated with a powerful loss. In the wake of such nourishing violence, nothing could satiate my sanguinary desires besides more, more, more… It was a phantom limb; I was on the precipice and this woman would be my salvation.

She was pawning various curios in the dilapidated markets of the Dregs. She was beauty beyond the words of the most celebrated poets and lovelier than anything I could ever dream into existence. She was impossible. A normal man could lose himself in her fiery locks, made radiant in the dappled sunlight of the mid-afternoon sun. However, for all her charms, she seemed crippled by an abject sadness. It was in her eyes, those salient pools of emerald bliss, and in the weakness of her smile, a ghost of remembered joy. I was thoroughly intimidated and afraid, but I needed her.

I approached, guarding my eagerness with all the skill of an amateur player upon his first night on the stage. I was a wreck, but I could not allow her to penetrate my nebulous guise if I were to feed freely that night. Luckily, I was halted by a fortuitous triviality, and a plan soon formulated. With a defeated hand, she withdrew a most interesting novelty from her satchel: a simple player’s mask of matte white and void of pronounced features. It was macabre in design, and it reminded me of Sinclair’s theory of Metaphorical Masks, Chapter 2 paragraphs 17 – 25. My sagacious mentor championed ideas of bloodlust and murder; central to these philosophies were personae construction and the optimization of predatory relationships. I needed that mask as much as I needed the woman, and I would have both that night.

I placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, “Excuse me, ma’am. I have been perusing these reputable stands for hours seeking items of unique make. I was just about to retire, when I was struck by that curious mask you have there. Would you be willing to part with it?” I could sense her hesitation, not at the proposition but at the approach, so I shot her a reassuring smile. Ms. Fleischer of the Rock Bottom Tavern would endlessly drone on about my inspiring smile as she served up mugs of her famous bitter ale. Ostensibly, this woman was equally inspired and reciprocated as joyously as her sadness would allow.

“Of course, sir, but this mask is simple and unadorned; it cannot be worth much. To be honest, I only found it this morning outside the playhouse. It mustn’t have been that important.” Her voice rang out like a melancholy dove.

“Worth is subject to the buyer alone. I would be willing to pay as much as 10 gold pieces for that mask.” Her face transformed, a hopeful sunrise emerging from endless night. “Before you answer, we should surrender to more private quarters. There is a quiet spot just around the corner from the market we can discuss our arrangement.”
Her smile retreated quickly. “Sir, I’m married.”

“Congratulations are in order, ma’am. I assure you, I do not endeavor such dalliances; I simply wish to secure our agreement away from more vulgar suitors. However, forgive my boldness, but you are radiant. You must have been spun from the sun!” I laid bare my pouch of coin. “I am merely an eager bidder.” I was fumbling through my undeveloped charms, but she submitted.
She blushed and replied, “Of course, sir. Forgive my haste.”

In the seclusion of the foreboding access, we came to agreeable terms. “Thank you, truly! My husband and I were in dire need, and I did not wish to part with my modest wedding band. My dear, Elan. He has been troubled so.”

“It is I who is thankful, ma’am. You have made this curious collector very happy indeed.” The mask was in my grasp. I could feel the life-force of Sinclair pulsating through my hands in perfect harmony with my quickening heart beat. It was becoming increasingly difficult to hide my intentions. I adorned the mask…astounding! Every breath became a violent gust and every thought a nova of anticipation. “How do I look?”

“Dashing, I suppose. I’ll be off then, sir.” She turned, her gentle frame moving toward the sanctuary of the market. She turned…so did I.

With a simple flick of the wrist, my father’s strop razor was in hand. I surged, taking the fine mistress hard to the ground. It accepted her with harsh reprisal. I had her pinned with what I thought was a powerful hold, drew back her head with a handful of her glorious, ardent hair, and was ready to draw the blade across her pale throat. In my zealous strike, I relaxed my guard. With fight-or-flight strength, she lithely turned and caught me on the temple with a sharp blow, cracking the delicate mask of my abhorrent desires. Stunned, my thoughts swam through a thick pall and my vision was momentarily hindered. She continued to struggle, but I was able to regain my placement as the fog cleared. Then, as the first note of panic escaped her lungs, my blade finally met its mark. I pressed her face against the ground as her last shallow breaths bubbled forth. What little light was left in those vibrant eyes was soon extinguished. Her arm twitched, drawing closer to her body as if she was desperately changing the current of her essence. Then nothing.

Sweet relief. It fills me up, a cornucopia of murderous delight. This city is a stage, my playground. Its dregs…mere players in my tome of violence.