Redbearde

[Hrothgar]

Name: Hrothgar Redbearde
Race: Human
Class: Fighter/Rogue
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Description: Tanned Skin (almost burnt brown), bald with a red beard, weighing about 190 lbs and roughly 6 foot tall

Originally from Calimshan, Hrothgar was a son to a travelling "merchant". His father never dealt fairly with customers, and often times, the items he sold didn't work at all. Hrothgar never questioned the ethics of it all, he had no reason to. He lived a life of minor luxury, more than just comfortable. He travelled with his father, seeing many different lands and people. With all this moving around, he never made many friends. He also found it easy to dodge the laws of the towns because he always left in a matter of days. His father always taught him not to be too trustworthy, because often times people would take advantage of you in your time of need. "That's why you must always strike first", his father always said. One day, while pick purses in a market, Hrothgar noticed his father tallking to a strange man. As Hrothgar drew near, stealthily, he overheard this man promising his father many riches. Overcome with greed, his father followed the strange man to a cave. Eagerly the two enetered, and Hrothgar, not being spotted yet, watched from behind. Hrothgar followed into the cave, there he watched a group of men surround his father. They demanded money, more than he had, so they cut him down. As Hrothgar's father fell to the floor, he caught a glimpse of Hrothgar in the shadows. He whispered the words "Help me", but Hrothgar was no hero, and he watched his father die. Quickly he turned and ran. Now he knows the lesson of trust, never do it. Hrothgar's travels have taken him to Cormyr in search of wealth. He figures in light of the upset in powers that be, he might take advantage of the chaos and make a few coin. He has broken the one rule he was taught and calls two elves friends: Vind and Thrulia. They have saved his life many times, and he has returned the favor. However, this bond will not be shared lightly with any others. They worked hard for his trust. Everyone else remains a means to wealth in Hrothgars eyes. He is a simple mercenary with a level head, and and eye out for himself.

[Quadhund/Greenhouse]

1355
After the death of his father, Hrothgar travelled north from Calimshan. He stuck to the major cities, as it was easy to get lost in a crowd. He didn't mind going unnoticed because he never liked attention. Attention always brough eyes, and when you were being watched it was hard to make a bit of coin. He always had a bit of trouble with the law, and every new run in meant that he would have to change cities. Eventually he made his way to Athkatla. Here there were merchants, beggars, nobles, and many more. In his naivety, Hrothgar expected this city to be "easy pickings".

He started small. Mostly working at night, he would break into houses in the slums. These people didn't have much, but often they were in just as much trouble with the law, so the theft would go unnoticed by the law. A few copper here, a few silver there. It was enough to keep a room at the inn rented, and kept him in cheap ale. But he didn't care for cheap ale. He wanted more; he deserved more. He began to get a bit more brazen. He would walk the streets of the bazaars, picking pockets in broad daylight. Few noticed the theft, and when they did, it was easy to get lost. He loved the adrenaline rush, the pounding of his heart in his ears. Sweat would bead on his forehead, one that was beginning to show signs of a receding hairline, as his legs worked furiously to get him away from a screaming noble. At the end of the day, a smile always played across his face. His confidence had grown, there wasn't anyone that could stop him.

14 Mirtul 1355

The morning was bright, a few clouds in the sky. He loved the sound and sight of it. Merchants beginning to open their windows and hawking deals, people beginning to fill the streets and chatting about local events. The smell reminded him of home, sweet perfumes mixed spicey roasts. One could find just about anything here. Hrothgar was looking for something, he was looking for a victim. And today he would start off easy. There, next to the alley. A beggar, with dirty clothes and a haggard face. But he carried a cane and tapped it around. Not just any beggar, but a BLIND beggar! Hrothgar laughed to himself. This was too easy. As the beggar sat down and began his trade, Hrothgar sidled over to him. Quietly he stood by, and watched the man, waiting for his old tankard to get full of coins. The man would occasionally shake, undoubtedly trying to assume the amount of coin he had made. Hrothgar beamed as the man placed the cup on the ground near him. Hrothgar quickly reached an arm forward to pick up the cup. Even more quick was the cane in the side of his head. His ears rang as he stumbled to the alley, barely willing his hand to hold onto the cup. A warm liquid oozed from his ear, but he knew he could get away. If only he could make it to the back of the alley, he would be able to disappear. Hrothgar looked behind him and saw two beggars running after him. Wait ... Hrothgar shook his head, just one, but he was following to quickly and directly to be the same blind one. As Hrothgar turned to look in front of him, a hand in the shape of a fist was there to meet him. It couldn't be determined if the loud crunch was because the fist was being swung so hard, or if it was due to hrothgar's momentum. It didn't matter much to Hroth, all he felt was a sense of falling and sleep, and his world turned black.

[Quadhund/Greenhouse]

15 Mirtul 1355

Hroth's eyes flickered open. The taste off blood was in the back of his throat. With the little light in the room he could barely make out his surroundings. There appeared to be something across from him, human sized, but not moving. An ache came from his arms as if he had been holding up and immense weight for a long time. And indeed he had. When he tried to move his hands, they made a clanking noise. Upon inspection, he noticed cold steel manacles around his wrists. There was a tiny keyhole in them, but nothing else, except for the chain that was anchored in the wall behind him. He stood slowly to relieve the pain in his arms and tried to get a better feel for his surroundings.

"Pssst" he whispered to the figure. It remained motionless.

"Hey!" Hroth dared to call out a bit louder. Yet the figure remained unmoving. A rustling to his left Hroth with the distinct feeling he had alerted something. There was a flash of light between bars, and then the sound of a jingle of keys being placed in a lock. A minute later a small man with an eyepatch walked into the room. He held a torch that seemed to burn as bright as the sun. Hroth tried to shield his sensitive eyes.

"Yer awake are ye? Good the master was getting impatient to talk with you." The man's smile showed a gruesome display of green teeth. He casually licked the part of his mouth where two teeth should have been.

"Where am I and who are you?" Hroth asked. The small man merely left and walked out of the room. Hroth sighed and leaned his head back against the wall.

"Lot of help you were," he said to his cell mate, which was revealed to be a skeleton still manacled to the wall. Almost in response a rat dropped from inside the skull to the floor. "I knew eating those things couldn't be good for you."

Hours seemed to pass in the darkness, but really it may have only been a few minutes. Once again a light flashed at the window of the door. This time two men walked in, the small green toothed man, and a taller man, more well groomed and presentable. The man wore a dark grey robe, under which undoubtedly was hidden many tools.

"Do you know what you have done?" the well groomed man asked stroking a small black goatee.

"Aye, I was caught stealing, so?"

The man laughed at hroth. "That is not the problem. You would not be in trouble if we were the normal guard. YOu would do some jail time, perhaps pay a fine, and then be on your way. No, the problem is we are not the guards. You commited theft in our territory. You do not have a license or guild association, and as such your death is the punishment."

"My death? By what law? This is ... OUTRAGEOUS!"

The man merely smiled. "Such is the consequence of your actions. If we did not punish you appropriately, other whelps might think it fine to rise up against us. No dog, you will be put down as an example."

"That's it, you are going to kill me? Even though I can help you? I have been operating in this city for weeks and you only just caught me. Come now, one more to fill your ranks wouldn't be so bad, would it?"

The man with the goatee stared hard at hroth, for what seemed like an eternity. The gaze was pentrating, but Hroth wouldn't back down. His life was on the line, and any sign of weakness now would cost him it. The man turned his gaze to his comrade, who seemed to be drooling uncontrollably.

With a slight shiver he turned back to Hroth and said,"You may be right. You seem to have a slight amount of skill. Perhaps we do not need to take your life. Maybe you'll just lose it in your indentment to us. Mind you," his eyes flashed as he paused, "your life is now ours. Everything you gain and lose will be ours. Serve us well and you may be rewarded well, betray us and die."

Hroth nodded with a slight smile on his face. He always enjoyed turning certain death situations to his favor.

"Your training begins immediately!" The green toothed man walked over and made as if he were going to unlock the manacles. Hroth stood up straight with a proud look on his face. The small man looked at him and then at the well groomed man. His fist hit Hroth square in the groin. Hroth let a yelp and curled over, trying to place his hands on his already swelling groin. The small man unlocked the manacles then and Hroth collapsed to the floor. "Your first lesson, always expect the unexpected."

[Quadhund/Greenhouse]

20 Kythorn 1355

Those first weeks of training were not pleasant. In fact, it wasn't really like training, it was more like war. Hrothgar didn't sleep. He couldn't. If he did, it was a sign of weakness and he would wake up with a knife in his belly to be sure. Some would think this just paranoia, but Hroth knew in the back of his head it was a survivalist instinct. At first, his lessons didn't teach him much. They were more demonstrations of the guilds power. He would shadow a higher ranked thief, and watch him kill and steal. Hrothgar had to admit, they were efficient and effective. If he did ever consider betraying this guild, he began to loose that thought. He learned to use the shadows to his advantage, that's where he would sleep. Whenever he found a new hiding place, he coveted it, because that meant at least a night of restful sleeping. One evening, before he was about to embark with a guild member to "train", the goateed man approached them.

"You will not follow tonight. Tonight you will learn to do things for yourself."

As he turned to walk away, a female elf and a halfling approached. The elf had long black hair and pale skin. Her features were near flawless, except for two scars. A wicked one that stretched from her right eye to her ear. It was not a smooth cut and looked as though it had been made by a claw or fang. The other was less of a scar and more of a tattoo. It was above her left eye, and was nigh imperceptible. Needless to say, the elf wore her hair covering the right half of her face. Fierce silver eyes stared back from underneath that hair. Her pink lips seemed to be stuck in a perpetual frown, even when she spoke. "You come with me!" she commanded as if he was a dog. He knew better than to let his pride get in the way. But that did not mean that he couldn't be confident. He strolled up beside her as she turned. On her other side was the white haired halfling. He wore a leather jerkin with a green hood. He seemed slightly out of place. Perhaps it was that his face still reminded him of a young childs, despite the color of his aged hair. Or perhaps his eyes, they gave the appearance of innocence, but there seemed to be a fire beneath the surface.

They walked into a nearby building, opened a hidden trapdoor, and followed a dark corridor. The damp air smelt like sweat, and it appeared as if it were coming from the walls. Hrothgar touched the wall. It was cold. So it was just a bit of condensation from the warm, musty air. Hrothgar pictured a moment, the cold wall stealing the lifeblood from the air. He shook his head and tried to focus on the task at hand. If he wasn't ready, tonight could be his last night. The three stepped up to a door, the female knocked on the door twice rapidly, and it opened. They stepped into a small room in which there were a series of chests, a few dummies with bells on them, a heavy steal door and a glass window looking into the room beyond the door. A man closed the door behind them and locked it, sliding a wooden bar in place. Hroth knew that if they wanted him dead, they would not have much trouble. He turned his head quickly back to face the woman.

"I'll take your names now." she said quickly and firmly. The halfling, a little two eager, blurted, "My name's Birbac, what's yours?" A smile played across his face as if he had made a new friend. The man behind him cuffed him on the back of the head, that was hard enough to make the halfling fall to his knees. The halfling turned his head around quickly to face the man, and shot him an angry look. The man spit in his face and laughed. The woman's lips went from a frown to a flat line, Hrothgar assumed she was smiling.

"Fool, you do not give your real name, EVER! We could be guardsmen for all you know." The halfling turned his head back to face the woman, wiping spittle that looked like a tear from his eye. The woman turned to hroth, expectantly.

"Ummm ... name's Nelf." She nodded. "Good, Nelf, you have 30 seconds to remove those bells from that dummy. You are allowed to make one sound."

Hrothgar ran over to the dummy and quickly began removing the bells. Some of the bells were in awkward positions, making him distribute his weight awkwardly. The shift made the floorboards creak, and hroth hoped there wasn't a pit with spikes below him awaiting his failure. As he removed the last bell, it jingled. He winced but sighed knowing he had not made another sound. He walked over to the lady and presented the bells.

"I said ONE sound," she said pointing to the floorboards. Hrothgar's exasperation was emphasized by the sound of the bells hitting the floor. Hrothgar hadn't consciously dropped them, it is just that he lost control of his fingers after the man's fist slammed into his face. He awoke what seemed like hours later with the halfling standing over him, giggling with the other man. The woman's face was turned into that flat-lined smile. "Impressive, though the sound of the bells is just as important as the sounds of the environment. You must be in control of your body at all times. If your mark moves, you move with him. If he becomes silent, so do you." She nodded expecting the lesson to remain in his head forever. The man, who now appeared to hrothgar as a half ogre, offered a hand to help him up. Hrothgar got up on his own accord, knowing full well that something could be waiting in the man's other hand. "He learns quickly," the woman said to the laughing giant. The giant's mouth was missing a few teeth, but it was overshadowed by the dark bags under his eyes. His eyes were a dull green, and they seemed to be glazed over, either by drunkeness or sadness, it was hard to tell which. A hairy hand clapped him on the back, pushing him towards the chests. "Open the chest," the woman said. Hrothgar casually tried to lift the lid, knowing full well that it would probably be locked. "Tools? A pick at least?" he asked. She looked at him disappointedly.

Birbac grinned and chittered with excitement as he pulled back his green hood. He reached into his hair and pulled out a hairpin. Hrothgar could not understand what use the halfling had for hairpins, as his hair could not be more than half a thumbs length. He quickly realized, as the hin bent it into a straight angle, that it wasn't used for his hair. Not more than ten seconds passed, when a distinct click and the halfling snorted in victory. He turned to look at the woman and the man with a wide grin on his face, as he pushed open the lid. Hrothgar's eyes remained on the chest, and as a glint of light played off a bit of steel, his eyes became as big as saucers. He gritted his teeth and dove at the halfling, tumbling with him. The arrow shot in a path that would have pierced a man in the belly, but the halfling would have taken it in the eye. For a moment the only sound that could be heard was the wobble of the arrow shaft as it stuck in the wooden roof above. The giant man laughed heartily and the woman's face returned to its ever present frown.

"Disappointing... you live for today," she made a motion to the large man. He reached into his pocket and picked out two packages and threw them at Hrothgar and Birbac, still laying on the ground. Hrothgar caught his, Birbac let his smack him in the face, obviously still stunned at what had occurred with the arrow. The woman turned to leave and the man walked over by the door. "Practice as much as you can, your tests will be coming shortly." Though Hrothgar still feared dying by the hands of one of these people, he got the distinct impression that he had survived just long enough to almost be considered a member. Hrothgar eyed his package and unwrapped it. It was jerky and bread, which he smelled both in turn. As he was about to take a bite of his bread, the halfling grabbed him around the neck and kissed him on the cheek. "THANKS!" the halfling yelled in his ear. "You gonna eat that?" he asked as he grabbed for the bite of bread in his hand. Hrothgar quickly jerked it back and looked at him oddly. Perhaps not all the thieves were out to kill him, but they were all out to steal from him.

[Quadhund/Greenhouse]

2 Eleasias 1355

And train he did. Neither Birbac or Hroth were allowed to leave the room. The concept of time became lost. The only thing they could measure time by was how long it took to disarm a trap or pick the bells off the dummies. The two made a vow that they would always keep an eye out for each other. It wasn't the beginnings of a friendship by any means, but when there are three people in a room and the only person you can trust is yourself, sometimes you have to make "friends". The two had come to learn the large man's name as Gouge. Undoubtedly this was not his real name, but the two suspected that it had something to do with a favorite past time of the half ogre (they were sure he had some ogre blood in him). So one would train while the other slept. The only thing to steal was food, and they were both awake when it was brought. Neither saw who brought it, Gouge would open the door slightly, bring in a basket and take two bottles. One bottle was for the two of them, the other for himself. The strange thing was, they never saw Gouge eat. All he did was drink, and it was as if his want for liquor was the only thing keeping him alive.

Something of a competitive spirit arose between the two allies, whether it was born from the fear of death to those that didn't pass the tests or because they found their training fun, neither could tell. Birbac was better at locks, Hroth blamed it on his larger fingers, and Hroth was better with traps. Traps intrigued Hroth tremendously. Both were decent enough to pick the bells without making a sound, but Birbac had trouble reaching those on the top of the mannequin's shoulders.
Here was something that was set in wait, ready to steal life from someone. Yet it was a guardian, of something special. Traps were a sign of challenge and reward. They were also a sign of death to the unaware. Even in the process of setting them, if you were not good, you'd be dead. To always be on your toes, death awaiting you at any turn, struck Hroth in his soul. It forced you to know what life was worth. Living this close to the edge of death made Hrothgar feel alive.
Eventually they trained to the point where they could go no further. Every lock was simple, every trap remembered. The bells could be removed with ease. As if on queue, the elven woman appeared. She wore a different attire than when they first had met, dark skin tight clothing. It was shaded black and grey, and the light seemed to be absorbed by it. Hroth couldn't keep his eyes off her chest, as her clothers were so tight that he could make out the edge of her ni... The halfling was nudging him on the thigh, eyes wide with excitement and his tongue practically hanging out of his mouth. Hrothgar frowned at him and pushed him away. The elf approached them, moving so very gracefully, yet still with a twinge of feminity. If Hroth wasn't careful, he'd let his tongue hang out as well, and he knew there would be consequences. She approached with the use frown. "Put these on," she said tossing them a pair of clothes similar to her own. Both looked at her, then at each other, then realized if they didn't comply quickly, Gouge would be forced to "help" them. Hroth noticed as they stripped down that the halfling was showing his excitement in more than one place. Birbac blushed a little as he looked up at the elven woman, then finished putting his clothes on. She merely turned her frown into a flatline and raised an eyebrow. "Follow," she said, in her typical command fashion.

The left the room the same way they had entered, travelling through the same dark corridor and out the trapdoor. They left the area and walked down some sides alleys. Hroth noticed that as they went, the appearance of the houses became more and more extravagent. They stopped in a dark road in front of an extremely lavish building. "Inside this building is a painting of some value. Retrieve it." She said it so plainly that the two looked at her confused. She shook her head and rubbed her hands on her temples. "Listen you buffoons. This is your test. If you succeed, you will be entered into our ranks and become trusted brothers. If you fail, you'll either be dead or in jail." A moment of clarification passed over the two as if a light was shining down on them. Or was there a light really shining down on them? The two of them looked across the road to see a man with a red cape and a shirt of mail lighting a pair of torches. The two hurriedly looked back at the woman for some further instruction, but she was gone. The two looked at each other and ran to the nearest shadow. "Oooohhh I am so excited," Birbac squeaked trying to maintain a whisper. "I can tell," Hroth said as he watched the halfling hop from one foot to the other, clapping his hands. "So what's the plan?" Birbac looked at Hroth expectantly. Hroth looked at him and raised an eyebrow,"We go in there and steal a painting." He tried to state it as matter of factly as the woman had. "But how?" Birbac said in disappointment, no longer dancing. "That's a good question. Well first we have to get inside. Then we have to locate the painting. Then we have to get out with it." Birbac nodded approvingly at the somewhat vague plan. "We need to know more before we proceed. First let's find out how many guards there are and if there is an easy way in." They walked around the building, trying to sight as many guards as they could. They count four in total, two on balconies on the east and west walls, the one in the front guarding the front doors, and the one guarding the entrance to the kitchen. They had no idea what time of night it was, but as they watched the one at the kitchen entrance, they noticed he was dozing off. After the light was extinguished from the kitchen window, the two nodded in silent agreement that it was time to move. The climbed over the fence with ease, and managed to use most of the rear gardens large ornamental trees. Halfway across they heard the guards loud snoring. Their confidence grew as they got close. They slowly opened the door and fortunately it wasn't locked. Having a guard often made people a little too secure. They stepped into the kitchen. Darkness didn't bother either of them, but the unfamiliarity of the terrain made Hroth's stomach a bit queasy. They moved slowly and as quietly as possible. Hroth bumped the edge of a table which caused a bottle to fall onto its side. A rustling noise came from the next room, and a light was lit. "Henry, you're not nipping at the wine again." The light moved closer to the doorway. Hroth had to think fast. With his large bulk, he would not be able to navigate the kitchen in this little light and find an adequate hiding place. Even if he did, this person would probabaly do a thorough search of the room. The light was coming close enough to illuminate some of the room. He looked at the tools he had to work with. Horth motioned to Birbac to move under the table. He grabbed the nearest thing at hand, and lean tight against the wall. A man with weary eyes, wearing a soft robe and soft pink slippers, staggered into the room. "Henry?" he asked. He had barely finished the sentence before a heavy thud was heard. Though unwieldly, the cast iron skillet had done the job. Birbac tried to catch the man as he fell, and cried out a little when his weight was more than he could hold. There was slight clink, as the candle's metal tray hit the stone floor. Hrothgar quickly set the skillet back in place, grabbed the candle and extinguished it, and then began to haul the portly man off birbac. The two of them heard a snorting outside, and thought it wise to return the man to his room.
"What now?" Birbac asked after they heard the guard come into the kitchen, grab a bottle, and close the door behind him. "Well, this painting has to be fairly well protected, otherwise it wouldn't be worth anything to the elf. I would bet that it is upstairs, and on display. Nobility often likes to show off such things." So up the stairs they headed. At the top of the stairs, the corridor split. The sound of booted feet was heard walking towards them. They watched a guard with a candle walk by and then turn around and walk back the other way. While his back was turned, the two of them peaked their heads around the corner to see a hallway, doors along both sides. How were they to try each door with a guard going down the hallway. Hroth sighed a bit. "You take the left doors and I'll take the right ones. When you find a locked one, it is probably our mark." The halfling nodded. Still the guards back remained facing out over the balcony. They tried the doors furthest from the guard, but no luck, so they continued down the hallway. The next set of doors were both locked as well. So the crept closer to the guard. Birbac motioned his was unlocked, but hroth's was. As he motioned for Birbac to begin unlocking the door, the guard began to turn. Hroth froze and leaned tight against the wall. The halfling did the opposite. He stepped square in the middle of the hall, reached in his pocket and threw something. Whatever it was, flew right over the guards head and made a thud noise outside. Immediately the guards attention was turned outside again, and Birbac began to work on the lock. Hroth's heart raced as each second seemed like an hour, and he couldn't understand what was taking Birbac so long. But really it was only a span of three seconds before they were in. They closed the door behind them and relocked it. The moonlight shone through a window. At the edge of the room, where the moonlight seemed to be focused, was a painting. Both of them seemed to be drawn to it. As they stood in front of it, Birbac stuttered,"It's ... it's ..."

"Horrible!" Hrothgar finished with a sound of disgust in his voice. The painting was of a very obese woman laying on her side, with many naked fat men surrounding her eating various fruits off of different areas of her body. Some of the places made Birbac blush and made Hrothgar want to wretch. Hrothgar looked at the painting and noticed something about it ... or rather the frame it was in. The frame had little holes in it. The holes seemed to be a part of the design of the frame, removing the part of a wooden cherubs body that would make Birbac blush. Hrothgar waved Birbac away. "Watch," he said. As he touched the painting, tilting it a bit, the sound like a crossbow firing could be heard. Eight needles, tipped with poison, flew out of the holes and landed in the wall across from the painting. The click of a reload could be heard. Hroth thought to himself. After a few moments of thought he realized that the painting could be cut away from the frame, if the movements were steady enough. If ever the frame moved, certain death awaited. "Do you have anything to cut with?" Hroth asked Birbac. Birbac produced a silver knife he had seen in the kitchen. Birbac was proving to be a proficient theif. Beads of sweat poured down hroths forhead as he began to remove the painting. It was no easy task, but it was certainly doable. Hrothgar finished after a while, rolled the thing up and looked at Birbac with a wide smile on his face. They might live through this after all. Instead of facing the guard again, they decided to leave by the window in the room. Since they had the prize already, alerting the guards would not be a problem. They tilted open the window and jumped out. Hroth tumbled when he hit the ground, knowing full well that if he didn't he would break a leg. Birbac was not so lucky. As he hit the ground, there was a loud pop, and Birbac cried out. The guard at the kitchen entrance awoke with a start. "You there, STOP!" He stumbled from his seat half drunk. Hroth was the one carrying the painting. He didn't really need Birbac for anything. If he left him behind, no one would think anything less of him. But he wanted this one to owe him his life. So he bent low and slung Birbac over his shoulder and began to run. The guard was slow to give chase, and Hrothgar easily escaped, even with carrying an injured halfling.
As he laid the halfling down in an alley, the elf appeared. "We did as you wanted," hrothgar said. "Good, let me see it." As he handed her the painting, the slight hint of a smile crossed her face and was quickly dismissed. "My thanks, Brother Nelf. It looks as if Brother Birbac could use some tending.' Hrothgar scooped him up again with a little moan coming from the halfling. He had done it. He had proven himself.

[Quadhund/Greenhouse]

10 Ches 1358

The smell of sweet spices filled the room. Hrothgar closed his eyes and breathed in heavily. The odor was heavy, and he knew he would carry it the rest of the day, but it relaxed him. He lay with his head upon a cotton pillow, with a purple silk blanket covering his naked form. The blanket shifted slightly and a beautiful face appeared, peeking out from under the blanket. She climbed closer along his side, her warm naked body caressing his. She found his neck and began nuzzling him. Hrothgar didn't react. He merely rolled his eyes and put his hands behind his head. She had served her purpose, and he wasn't about to give in to her desires. She began kissing his ears, soft and sensual. Then she trailed her kisses towards his mouth. But he had had enough of her for today, and there was work to be done. He turned his head and rolled out of body, standing naked in the candle light. The smell of the incense grew heavier as he drew near. His leathers lay in a pile by the window, and the candle light played off their dark colors. Still naked, Hrothgar opened the window to let some air in. The night was warm, and a bit of moisture hung in the air. It was still though outside, unusually still. "A storm is brewing," he said to himself. The woman heard him and responded. "Well why not come back to bed? I haven't finished yet." Hrothgar rolled his eyes at the moon. If she wasn't so hard to please hrothgar would have thought about keeping her as a mate. But, for the time being she was just a cheap fling, something he could easily dispose of and avoid the inevitable emotional attachment. "I have work to do tonight. I must be going." He said this, beginning to slip on his leathers. They didn't creek like the first time he put them on, he had worn them on many outings now, and kept them carefully oiled. To him, they were beginning to feel almost like an extra layer of skin, and he truly felt naked without them. If only the leathers could protect him from daggers, and that look he knew she was throwing at his back right now. They almost did that, because they gave him confidence. It wasn't so much that they were special, but they did make him feel alive. Memories were trapped in the clothing, memories of the thrill of the chase. He let his shirt hang open and then scratch his face. His beard was thick now, and was quite uncommon in these parts because of the climate. But he didn't care, it was an homage to his family name. His family wasn't good for much, and he didn't even know much about his family's past. But he knew he wanted to make a name for himself. And what better way for the name to stick than with a face to match. Hroth groaned as he sat in the chair, he was still stiff from the last night out. Him and Birbac had done a small house, just something to pay for the ale that eve. He was hurting more from the cheap ale than he was from job. He strapped his supple leather boots to his feet, and stood, this time without a groan. The woman looked at him with dismay, holding the blanket to cover herself as she sat up. "Please don't go ... you always go. I just want to spend sometime, just you and me." I don't, hrothgar said in his head. Without a word to her, he turned toward the door, opened it and walked out. "You BASTARD! You flea ridden dog ... I HATE YOU!" She called after him. Hrothgar chuckled to himself as he silently walked out into the alleyway. He knew her tune would change when he came back with more money. At least she was dumb enough not to raise her prices.

[Quadhund/Greenhouse]

10 Ches 1358

The door opened to the tavern. Eyes turned to see who was entering, but few were perceptible enough (even the ones not hazed with intoxication) to catch the figure who slipped in from the darkness. A clack of thunder masked the closing of the inn door. The figure slid into a both with two other figures, a slender female and a small halfling. This had become routine for Hrothgar. They would meet here for their orders and then complete the job and meet at a different location for the hand off. For three years they had done this, and the payment had continued to get better and better. And Hrothgar's skills continued to grow as well. Birbac was still more proficient at picking locks, but it mattered not. Hroth had mastered all the general types of traps, and had begun studying the master's traps. So little work to get the job done without getting caught. But most of the jobs were of "acquisition", something hroth didnt mind. Usually it was for a very specific item, so any trinkets they picked up along the way were his to keep. He was even able to practice his father's trade in the market by selling these little trinkets. Better than selling to the fences, because he knew they were cutting into his profits. When surrounded by thieves, the only one you can trust is yourself.

But tonight, hroth could feel that there was something special happening. The frequency of the jobs had lent him to believe that he was gaining the masters' favor. It would not be long before he would be sitting beside them, and then one day, in their places. To command the Shadow Thieves of Athkatla, that would be quite an accomplishment. His name would be heard throughout the land, and fear and respect would follow. A smile crept across his face as he thought of the treasure that accompanied that position. A glare from elf wiped the smile from his face. Those silver eyes penetrated his being. They were like cold knives of hatred that would chill your heart. Her hair was pulled back, showing the vicious scar clearly. This was unusual and Hrothgar's anticipation grew. Birbac had a plate of assorted fruits and bread before him and a tankard filled with ale. If it weren't for the strenuous training sessions they performed together, Hroth thought the little halfling would have doubled in size since joining the guild. Is it possible that he spent all his earnings on food? Hrothgar leaned in close to whisper. "So what fun is there tonight?" The elf maintained the perpetual frown while speaking, "You can find some fun here." She handed him a piece of paper with directions on it. Hrothgar quickly memorized it and then put the parchment in the candle. A flash of light came as the directions were consumed in flames. Birbac leaned back in his seat and let out a belch. The elf rolled her eyes at the halfling and the from stretched to the edge of her face. Hrothgar nodded, and stood and gave the thief sign to move out to Birbac. Birbac hopped off his chair and landed with a groan. Though his leg had healed properly, he always complained about the joint being stiff. The elf stood as well. Hrothgar's mouth dropped open. "You are coming ..." he blurted. Her look quickly silenced him, as her eyes darted around to see if any one heard. She nodded and motioned to leave. As they stepped out into the warm night, Hroth's mind flooded with thoughts. What if she was sent to kill us? But why, we have been doing well. What if she just wishes to observe? Then I shall have to do my very best. Lightning played across the sky, illuminating their shapes in the darkness. A few seconds later, thunder crackled. but they had already started on their way.

They moved both above and below ground, following the usual paths that the thieves had laid out. These paths were seldom crossed by the guards. Only when reports of illegal activity were reported did these paths change. Luckily, this never interruped the flow of thieves because of the informant in the city guards. People headed to their homes as the storm approached, and the streets became silent. They approached their destination. A large building with solid black granite walls. Six smooth pillars marked the entrance into the front gate. Hroth counted four guards standing out front. They went to a nearby alley to plan. "So what are we here for?" was the first question out of hrothgar's mouth. "The talonians have recovered a magical artifact. Tonight they are planning to use a ritual to unlock the power that is held within. Once the ritual is complete, we are to take the artifact." It sounded risky, but hrothgar was willing to try. Hells, he would try anything as long as he was compensated. But there was something about tonight that made him feel like there was something more going on. A cold shiver passed through his body, despite the warm air. Birbac had a slightly amused look on his face. "I always wanted to see the inside of a human temple." The elf and hrothgar both rolled their eyes. Hroth made the sign to move out.

[Quadhund/Greenhouse]

10 Ches 1358

Birbac approached the entrance to the temple, paying little heed to the guards. "Turn around, the temple is closed." Birbac seemed to only just then become aware of the guards. "But it is going to rain and I need a place to stay." He pleaded with them with his eyes. The guard sneered at him, "I don't care. Talos' house is not a place for filth. Leave now before I make you an ornament on my weapon." With that, the guard lowered the halberd at Birbac. The other three guards chuckled, as if the serious threat was a joke. Birbac turned and began to walk down the stairs. Lightning fast he whirled around and threw two darts that flew into the necks of two of the guardsmean. The other two guardsmen's eyes went wide with surprise, not at their fellows being killed, but at the blades being drawn across their necks spilling their lifeblood. Their bodies slumped to the ground, slowed by hands. Hrothgar looked at one of the guards struggling on the ground with a dart in his neck. The man was still quite alive, he only had his wind pipe severed and so Hrothgar shoved his blade into the base of his neck. "What were you aiming at?" Hroth asked Birbac as they moved the bodies into the shrubbery along the side of the temple. Birbac shot him a slightly angry look, "You try throwing two darts at different targets behind your back." Hrothgar harumphed and they made their way back to the entrance. The elven woman stood close to the door, listening intently. Hrothgar should have been focused on the street, looking for anyone else, but once again he was enamored with the body of the elf. She was beautiful despite the scars. She was fragile yet strong. He would have asked her to bed him, if not for her ever present hatefulness. Something's wrong with this one, someone hurt her long ago. A loud clap of thunder brought his attention back to the task at hand, and the rain began to fall, fast and hard. There was no one in the streets. This was a night where they would remain undisturbed when they did their dirty work.

The elf slowly opened the door and peered inside. The room was large circular, staircases running up the sides of the wall, meeting in the center. This mezzanine led to another room. On the first floor, there were three other doors. But an ominous chanting and torchlight emitted from the room above. Hrothgar motioned for Birbac to check the three doors, while him and the elf took to both of the staircases. Birbac motioned that the rooms were clear. Since the building didn't show any signs of escape, at least from the outside, Hroth new they would be making their way back down into this room when they escaped. The stairs would be a good place to set a few traps in case they were in a hurry to leave and being followed. He set what he called a "Tangle Trap". All it was, was a pouch of spider silk harvested from a phase spider. The silk itself was extremely sticky, but since it came from a phase spider, it often appeared invisible. Hrothgar donned a special pair of gloves to weave the silk between the banister and the wall. When he was finished, he signaled to the elf and birbac that he was ready and to proceed forward. Upon reaching the top of the stairs, the chanting had become louder. The doorway, led into a hallway and at the other end, was undoubtedly the ritual room. Two braziers marked the entrance. Hrothgar motioned for them to halt. He removed two bottles from his hip pouch and a long piece of twine. He threw one of the bottles to birbac and one end of the twine to the elf. He demonstrated what he wanted them to do by tying one end of the twine to the bottle. He then dangled the bottle above the brazier. He looped the twine around the wall sconce that held a torch and birbac did the like. They then threw the twine back over to hroth. He tied a very loose slipknot and they proceeded forward.

As they walked down the hall, the chanting became more vibrant. When they reached the entrance of the room, it sounded as if it was about to reach a climax. The room contained 10 men in robes bowing before an altar and two heavily armored guardsmen with pikes. The clerics had their arms up upraised to the sky, and it was the sky because the roof was a glass ceiling that had a hole in the center. Rain poured through, dripping on the altar. Some of the rain splashed off a small bronze statue. The statue depicted a man holding a sword with its point in the ground and both hands laid upon the hilt. A bolt of lightning drew everyone's eyes skyward. The elf motioned for Hrothgar to get behind one of the guardsmen and motioned for Birbac to move up the middle towards the statue. Normally, sneaking across the smooth marbel was easy, but as Hrothgar approached the guard from behind, he slipped on a puddle water. As he caught himself, he grunted, alerting both guards. He cursed out loud, and froze realizing that the guardsman further away from him already had a crossbow trained on him, and the one closest had drawn his sword. The click of the trigger was more distinct, rising above the chanting as if it had somehow been amplified. Then hrothgar felt an odd tingling on the nape of his neck, and the hair upon his head begin to stand on end. His senses could feel the end was near. Then Hrothgar became blinded by a great white light...

One of the greatest mysteries in hrothgar's life occured just then. At first, Hroth had assumed that the light was some sort of phenomenon that people spoke of when having experiences with death. Perhaps the the crossbow bolt had struck true, killing him instantly. But this was not the case, as the blast of thunder that nearly broke his ear drums brought him quickly back to his senses. When his vision was restored a strange scene was before him. Birbac lay upon the ground with the bolt protruding from his chest and back, blood already encompassing his body. The guardsmen with the crossbow lay upon the ground, writhing, blood squirting between his fingers clenched at his neck. The other guard was still trying to recover, rubbing his eyes dazed. The elf was making her way quickly towards the statue. The clerics were all mumbling different incantations. Hrothgar charged the guarded, hamstringing him, leaving him because there was not enough time to finish him. He quickly moved in towards the nearest cleric. It shocked Hrothgar that the cleric didn't move to avoid his stab at his gut, and when he gasped for air, hrothgar was relieved that at least one of them wouldn't be able to cast any spells. As magical protections could be seen being raised about a few of them, two bolts of lightning spewed forth from the hole in the ceiling. Hrothgar dove aside, but the blast from the bolts tore an orc sized hole in the ground, sending hrothgar and chips of marble flying. The elven woman dove through the air, grabbing the statue off the table as she flew. "RUN!" she yelled. Hrothgar scooped up birbac and headed for the entrance. She followed close behind, and the clerics began to chase. Hrothgar tried to mark his passage through the trap as casual as possible so as not to alert the clerics. He turned to run down the stairway with the tangle trap on it and the elf followed him. He leaned in tight against the wall as the clerics crossed the entrance way. The trap had worked. The knot slipped loose, letting the fragile bottles of alchemist powder fall into the braziers. The cracking of the bottles became the sound of a huge explosion. Bodies, rubble, and fire went flying everywhere. Tapestries and rugs soon caught fire adding just slightly to the fervent chaos. Despite the devastation, a few of the clerics emerged, though slightly dazed. Hrothgar leaped over his trap, but the elf didn't quite make it. She quickly became encompassed in the mess of sticky strands. "HELP ME!" she commanded. Hrothgar thought for a moment. It would be very nice to have her indebted to him as well, but would she honor it like birbac had done? Most likely not. He hurriedly began to cut at the strands. Once free, he removed the statue from her hand and dropped the knife upon her. "No, you can't! You can't do this!" she said in shock, realizing that hrothgar would not help her. "Watch me," he said as he turned with Birbac slumped over one should and the statue in the other hand. Hrothgar's only hope was that he could out run the clerics and that perhaps she might distract them a little. Flames roared around him as he burst from the doors, and as he ran towards the nearest alley, he wondered where the clerics were. In that split second of thought, the temple of talos exploded. Hrothgar was knocked to the ground and the air was filled with dust and flying boulders, which easily punched giant holes in the sides of surrounding buildings. The one thing that birbac hadn't told hrothgar was what was in those three rooms. It may have changed his plans if he had known that one of the rooms was a storage area for incense and oils for ceremonies. But then again, if hrothgar had changed his plan, he may not have lived.

Hrothgar found an empty safe house. He studied Birbac, but realized there was nothing he could do for the poor halfling. He thought about what had happened. Did the halfling jump in front of the bolt, repaying his debt that he owed, or did the guardsman simply misfire from the shock of the lightning bolt? Hrothgar would never know. But he didn't really care. He was alive, and that is all that mattered. A twinge of guilt tugged at his mind, but he reminded himself that the hin had merely paid back his debt. But now what to do with the statue? If there were ever a time to leave the guild, now would be it. And certainly the statue must be worth a fortune. He looked over the seemingly trivial piece of art. Perhaps if he knew what it did, he would know the true value of the item. So he made up his mind. He would leave Athkatla with the statue, dump birbac's body in the sea. He would let everyone believe that they had all died in the explosion that day. But hrothgar always knew, if anyone had found out he hadn't, the shadow thieves would make him wish he had died there. You never steal from a thief.

[Quadhund/Greenhouse]

18 Flamerule 1358

In the aftermath of the incident in athkatla, Hrothgar left as soon as possible. To hide his identity, he had shaved the top of his head clean, though there was not much left from his receding hairline and the burns marks from the explosion. He travelled south, in hopes to perhaps return home and practice his new skills there. But he never made it that far. Through his travels in tethyr, he had stopped off in Riatvin. Rumors had reached his ears that the gods had been seen walking the face of faerun. Hrothgar didn't hold much stock in these rumors, but at the same time, he wanted to be prepared. He sold the statue off to a travelling wizard, fearing that the god who had blessed it would come looking for it. The amount he sold it for was meager compared to its true worth, but he saw it as a curse that could come back to haunt him. The sooner he rid himself of it, the better.

At the tavern in Riatvin, Hrothgar was approached by a man in a ragged red uniform. He had the look of a grizzled veteran. He had a short grey beard that matched the color of his long mane of grey hair. His body was chisled such that anyone could easily discern this man's capability in battle. When he spoke, it sounded as if he had spent the majority of his life smoking Calimshan spice leaves. The man aimed straight for Hrothgar's table. He took a chair and turning it backwards, right beside hroth. Hroth tried to duck his head to the side. The less people he had interaction with, the less chances of his presence being known.
"Whatcha drinkin' lad?" said the man with a heavy accent. Hroth turned to eye him slightly.
"Nothing ... hmm" he looked down at his drink that was half full. The grey-beard chuckled and slapped him hard on the back.
"Come now, no need to be unfriendly. Hells, I'll even buy ye yer next." The man called the bartender over and asked for Turmish stout. The barkeep filled to glasses and passed them over. "Try this lad, it'll put hair on yer ... head," he laughed hard at his own joke, and quickly drained his glass in one flowing gulp. Hrothgar sniffed at it, and then took a sip. It was bitter, but smooth. There wasn't any burn in his belly like the other drinks he was used too. The grey-beard measured his reaction. "Try it a few more times, and I garuantee ye'd kill yer own mother for a drink. So what's yer name lad?" Hrothgar looked at him carefully.
"Bruno ... my name's bruno." The grey-beard eyed him up and down.
"Bruno ye say? Well my name's Big Willy ... well that's what they call me least ways on account oh my large," at this point he made a motion to his crotch. "Anyways, Bruno, I be in town recruitin' for an adventurin' group. Ye interested? I pay well and ye look a might down on ye luck. Course ye don't look all that skilled, so I'd throw in trainin' for free." Hrothgar looked around the room, as if a joke were being played ... or a trap. He noticed an old man passed out with his head on the table, and then two fat merchants sitting and gibbering. Not a one could have been an assassin from Hrothgar's observation. But this man's appearance and demeanor ... it was strange.
"Are lodging and meals taken out of pay, or given with?" Hrothgar said as he turned his head back to Willy. Willy lowered his eyebrow, he surely must have noticed Hrothgar's scan of the room. Then he laughed.
"Course I'll provide food and drink without takin' out oh ye pay. Come on then, i'll take ye to meet the rest oh the fellows." He stood clapping a hand on Hroth's shoulder. As he turned, Willy's coinpurse swung into view, heavily laden it seemed. Using the motion of his chair to muffle the noise of him grabbing the purse, he reached forward. Willy's hand clamped down on hroth's forearm, and it felt as if a bear had him in it's jaws.
"Ye'll get yer pay when i give it to ye. I have use fer one with yer skills, but ye make a vow right now. Ye'll not be stealin' from me or the rest oh the troop!" the man said with a sneer. Hroth's eyes widened in fear at the thought of what would happen if he refused.
"I'll not steal from you or the rest of your men," he let out what sounded like a shallow promise.
"Good, cause I wouldn't want to hurt ye," he said with a smile.

Willy took Hroth to meet the rest of the band known as Red Lightning. The band was about 50 men strong mostly lightly armored and using light blades and bows. Hrothgar trained with them in the following months as rumors grew and faded, notable was the gods having returned to the heavens, and now a fear of a great horde in the east. Hrothgar was outfitted with a shortsword, a shield and a chainshirt. When it was handed to him, Willy said,"Repeat after me: This is my gear. My gear protects my head and my head aims my hand to destroy my enemies." Hrothgar slowly repeated those words. "Good, now don't be thinkin' that their foolish. That's a saying I picked up in the service of Turmish. It helps you realise that every enemy can be defeated no matter what, so long as ye keep it together. When yer on the battlefield and everyone's dyin' around ye, ye gotta stay focused. That little sayin' helps me stay focused."

[Quadhund/Greenhouse]

28 Marpenoth 1360

Hrothgar rubbed a gauntleted hand over his bald head. Dawn's early light was just beginning to spill out over the plains. Hrothgar sighed, and a wisp of his breath floated forward, mingling with the fog that would soon dissipate. "Just gotta survive. That's all I have to do. This is my gear. My gear protects my head and my head aims my hand to destroy my enemies," he told himself in a reassuring manner. He had survived this long, and he could feel, if he just held on a bit longer, he might actually survive this "war". Hrothgar sipped from a flask, draining the last of his stout he had picked up while in Turmish. If he were going to die today, he'd at least want that bitter taste on his lips. His mind began to wander a bit, thoughts of the past clouding the impending future.

Not long after Hroth had met Willy a call had gone up for mercenaries in Tethyr. The rumors were true, a great army known as the Tuigan Horde was known to be attacking in the east. Red Lightning was one of the many bands of mercenaries that left to fight them. They had travelled up into Turmish, where they helped to fight off some of the duergar that remained after their conquest. They had then booked passage to sail across the Sea of Fallen Stars, from Alaghon to Telflamm. Once in Thesk, they had heard of some group called The Alliance that had been in a few battles with the Horde already. They were now standing off for their second battle on the Golden Way.

Hrothgar heard someone moving through the tall grass. "Ye think that King is worth a damn?" Willy asked.
"Who, Azoun? Fourth in his line, he better be worth something." Hrothgar spit as a smell of horse manure wafted to his noise. "I still think his plan is a little insane though. Does he really think that all the mercenary bands together can really incite the Horde into attacking?"
"Who knows what's goin' through his addled head. All I know is we have our orders and we better stick to them. I got as many men as I could tell about yer idea. They're workin' on the pits as we speak. Not bad for a youngin' like yer self."
"Well they had better hurry, as soon as the mist lifts, we'll be in plain view and our work will be for nought."
Willy laughed. "Ye worry too much. Jes remember. Trust in these." He padded a hand on his sword and shield.
"I know, I would just like to have the odds in our favor though. Gods, if these bastards would fight on their feet instead of horses, I'd not have to worry."
Willy shook his head. "Well that's the point of yer plan isn't it? To even the odds, as they say?" Hroth nodded.

The Horde was known for overrunning their enemies, pounding them hard with their cavalry. Most of the mercenary bands had arrived without horses, so it was not really in their favor. That's why Hrothgar found himself disgusted when Azoun had proposed the mercenary bands drawing the Horde into attack, and then The Alliance would come up on their flank. Hroth guessed that he didn't give a damn how many mercenaries survived. But hroth was determined to use every little thing he could to his advantage. He told his idea to Willy. They would take position upon any raised ground in the area, trying to keep a line. At the base of the hill, they would dig trenches so that at least the front lines of the cavalry charge of the Tuigan would be disabled. The tall grass should give the pits enough cover so that the Tuigan wouldn't see them till it was too late. In the confusion, the mercenaries could use the momentum of the downhill charge to perhaps turn the Horde's charge. The plan was weak at best. Their only real hope is that Azoun's charge up the flank would reach the Horde quick enough, and with enough confusion to give the mercs a chance.

"Come on, lad, let's get ready." Willy turned and began to walk up the hill. "Just gotta survive," Hroth mumbled as he turned to follow.

Some hundred feet away, they reached the crest of the low hill, and their camp lay below. Hroth gathered his shield and sword, and picked up a long bow for good measure. Him and the rest of Red Lightning positioned themselves atop the hill, lining up with a few other mercenary bands. It was quiet that morning, exemplified by the lack of the rest of the Alliance army that had left in the night. Willy started his usual pre-battle speech.

"Some people say mercenaries aren't worth a damn. Some people say there isn't anythin' in a life working fer gold. Ye know what I say? I say I am at the top oh this damned hill, defendin' yer land, riskin' my life for a bloody bit oh coin, just so ye don't have to!" He paused to let the weight of his words sink in. "We're not jes a band, we're a brotherhood. The man next to ye is in his place for the same reason ye are. We're all jes here to make a livin'. But realize this! If that man falls next to ye, that leaves ye open and marked. So best to keep his arse alive!" Cheers went up, but nothing astounding. Each one of them knew that this would be a battle with many losses. The promise of the reward was all that kept them from fleeing. And one can imagine that the gold must have been worth it.

Willy strood back into line. Hroth stuck a few arrows into the ground for easy access. He wouldn't need many, for he had been told that the Horde, once they began their charge, would be upon them in moments. And then they waited. A light wind blew across the plain, and though it seemed like it only took moments, the fog was gone. It was replaced with a horrible sight. It was said that the number of the horde was near three hundread thousand. Hrothgar believed it now. Though the Horde was over a mile away, the number of bodies stretched out as far as his eyes could see. They were all mounted and ready for combat. A horn sounded from down the line, and a horn from across the field sounded as well. The Horde began to move.

It was like watching the sea. A wave that starts off as a small swell, and grows larger and larger. The Horde's charge was like this. Their slow trot soon became a gallop, which soon became a stampede. "Red Lightning, ready arrows!" Willy yelled. He was nearly drowned out by the thunder of hooves, and the Horde was still half a mile away.
"Take aim ... not that ye really need it because them bodies be so damned thick," he paused in hopes that his joke would relieve the fear that would overwhelm some. "Fire!"

Many of the mercenary groups loosed their bows as well. The sky was filled with their arrows, flying towards their enemies like little insects. Though the mercenaries numbered somewhere near ten thousand, and nearly every arrow struck something, the impact was not noticed.

"Fire at will!" Mercenaries left and right loosed as many arrows as he could, not even taking aim. Sweat began to bead on Hroth's head as he loosed arrow after arrow. His concentration broke briefly as he heard a scream next to him. One of Red Lightning fell to the ground, an arrow protruding from his chest. Hroth dropped his bow and picked up his shield and sword, knowing that even if he could shoot one or two more arrows, there would not be enough time for him recover his gear. It amazed him how the horde could be so accurate while firing from the back of a horse.

"Take cover!" Willy yelled as more arrows floated up from them. Luckily there would not be much time for the Horde to fire upon them before they reached the pits. Hroth heard the thud as arrows landed in shields all around him. Then they heard the signal: the horrible screams of horses as the fell into pits, twisting and breaking their bodies.

"CHARGE!" Willy yelled. As Hroth lifted his shield away, he saw many horses and horse men laying in the pits, meanwhile having their companions charge over their broken bodies. The left and right sides of the horde had quickly turned course once the trap was realized. They rode to circumvent the pits, and with luck, come up on the flanks of the mercenaries. A yell went up amongst the mercenaries as they charge down the hill, many raising lances and pikes to thrust into the horses. Much to Hroth's delight, once the wall of pikes had reached the horses, the majority of the hordes momentum had been stopped. Now it was time for the real battle.

Hroth ran as fast as he could, and saw a horseman turn and face him. This would be his first true kill of the battle. The horseman thrust deftly at him with his spear, but hroth deflected it with his shield. As he did so, he spun underneath the horse to cut at its front legs. The horse reared back, and the man struggled to hold on. This left him open for Hroth's short blade to find this gut. The man fell limp almost instantly. Hroth turned to see Willy fighting two horsmen at a time, swinging his blade and deflecting with his shield. "He could use a bit of help," Hroth thought to himself. He charged at the backside of one of the horsemen. He leapt off a nearby body to land on the rump of the horse. As the horseman turned to see what had just happened, hroth slid his blade into the man's throat. The horseman's eyes widened as blood came gushing from the wound and up through his throat. He dropped his spear, and hroth pushed his body from the saddle. Willy quickly dispatched the other horseman being on his own now. Willy turned quickly to Hroth,"Do ye even know how to ride?" Hroth shrugged and tugged the reins to drive the beast further into battle. Willy got up on the other horse and joined hroth. Hroth's lack of riding skill was quickly displayed when one horseman thrust his spear at hroth's horse, making it rear back. Instead of directing his mount away, he merely fell onto the flat of his back. The air rushed out of his lungs and he lay for a moment stunned. He rolled to avoid being trampled into the ground, and tried to cry out as a horse hoof stepped upon his ankle. "This is my gear. My gear protects my head and my head aims my hand to destroy my enemies," he repeated in his head. A spear thrust down at him. He raised his shield to block it. Finally the breath returned to Hroth's lungs, but it was not a joyous return. The spear had splintered through his shield, pentrating into his holding arm. The horseman withdrew the spear, nearly taking hroth's arm with the spear. Hroth felt as if he might pass out, but he quickly turned the pain into rage. The horseman had driven his horse over Hroth, in hopes to finish the wounded Hroth by trampling him. Hroth brought his legs near his chest, rocking back. Rolling forward and pushing off the ground with his shield arm, drove his his sword into the horses belly, spilling all kinds of fluids over himself. The horse crumpled to its left and he dove to his right. He then pounced upon the rider, stabbing him as he lay pinned by his horse. Hroth turned to see Willy still astride his horse. Hroth nearly smiled. Willy turned his horse about and about, keeping his enemies at bay, but all the while taking every opening to make a death strike. His grey hair blew in the wind, and was accompanied by a chorus of trumpets. Hroth shook his head, those were real trumpets. Azoun's Alliance must have begun its charge. Hrothgar realized that that wasn't the only charge happening, a horseman was headed straight for him. He tried to jump to the side, but even as he was bumped by the horses chest, he felt the spear sink into his gut. Hroth lay upon the ground as blood seeped up out of his wound. "This taste is getting all too familiar," he thought as that iron flavor made its way onto his tongue.

He turned his head to the side for one last look of the battle. Not much could be distinguised amongst the horse hooves and flying dirt. But he did think he caught a portion of blue sky behind them. "All I had to do is survive..."

[Quadhund/Greenhouse]

1 Uktar 1360

The mist spread before Hrothgar. He knew what was passing through it. It was another horseman. They just didn't stop coming. Now weaponless, hroth could only rely on some quick thought to prevent being killed. But none came. Sweat began to bead on his forhead, and fear threatened to overwhelm him. The horseman veered to his right, and began charging at another figure ... his father. Fear held his tongue, as it had done before. "No, no ... say something, warn him!" his mind warned. "Father LOOK OUT!" he finally shouted. But it was too late. The horseman speared his father in the chest. His father fell to his knees, the look in his eyes of pleading. That look ... Then hroth felt it. The guilt began welling inside of him. He fell down to lay beside his father, weeping as he caressed his father's corpse. Then he felt cold steel against his throat, and slowly turned to see what held it. "This is what happens to betrayers," the scarred elf maiden said. Hroth felt the steel cut the supple flesh of his neck...

Hroth's scream was drowned out by the banging of shudders. A chill wind blew through his room, making the candles beside the bed he lay in flicker. Hroth looked around the room. It was dark, but he could discern a few details. The bed he lay in was lavish compared to what he was used to. Not the typical rope bed, but one with a mattress stuffed with down. he was covered by two wool blankets, one of finery, the other that he was used to from his travels. The dirty one even carried the familiar scent of manure. His eyes narrowed in across the room. There was a chair there, with a figure seating just out of reach of the candlelight. Hroth could only tell from the boots that stretched out before. The figure stirred and rose.

"Man can't catch a wink o' shut eye with all yer screamin'," Willy's voice sounded more jovial than perturbed. "Ye must have been havin' some o' them night terrors." He strode across the room and closed the shutters, latching them. The howling of the wind died a little, but the room did not get any warmer.

Hroth's breathing slowed and he leaned back on a comfortable pillow. "It was just some ... bad dreams. Things that didn't make any sense," he lied. As he tried to roll out of bed, a pain shot up from his gut. He clenched his teeth and decided that perhaps he didn't really wish to get up. Rolling back into bed, he lifted the blanket to see a blood soaked bandage. He then noticed that one of his arms was bandaged as well. His stomach turned, and he felt like vomiting. Willy looked at him, and pulled out a flask.

"Here, drink this."

Hroth drank, and the familiar taste of stout passed over his lips. It didnt help the queasiness, but it did help him relax a little more. He closed his eyes and set his mind to control his stomach. "What ... what happened?" he asked trying to take his mind off of the pain.

Willy dragged the chair he had been sitting in over to the bed. "Well, Azoun's bloody plan worked. Well, mostly. Apparently they caught them by such surprise, that they were able to slay the leaders. After that, the bloody horsemen didn't have much to fight fer anymore. And ye, my friend, have some gods to be thankin'! Only after I was able to kill all the horsemen that were around me, was I able to get to ye. Ye lost a lot o' blood, and I didn' think ye were gonna make it fer a while. Luckily, ye hung on till i was able to get ye to the clerics. They patched ye up, and cast what spells they could afford. After that, I dragged yer sorry arse back to Telflamm. This is where we have been since then. Been about four days, ye been out cold. Ye started stirrin' earlier today and got me hopes up," Willy smiled at hroth. He seemed to generally cared for hroth, and hroth was amazed willy had done half the things he said.

"So much for thinking you were tough as stone. You're nothing but a soft hearted old man!" Hroth jested.

"Soft hearted?! I'll show you!" Willy took a heavy bag from his belt and tossed it rather forcefully at Hroth's stomach. If not for the wound, Hroth would have easily dodged the sack, but even as he rolled, the sack caught him squarely in the gut. He groaned slightly as lightning pain shot up, pushing him closer to the edge of vomiting. He felt the blood drain from his face and nearly passed out. Breathing heavily, he said,"I take it back, you are a nasty old codger!"

"Before ye go diggin' yerself any more holes, perhaps ye better open the bag," Willy said with a smirk on his face.

Hroth opened the bag, licking his lips to alleviate some of the cotton mouth. The candlelight flashed something with a silvery sheen inside. Hroth lifted the bag closer to the light. It wasn't silver inside, it was platinum. The pain was replaced with excitement. He turned quickly on Willy. "What in the Nine Hells is this?"

"It's our pay. Fifty platinum."

"A platinum a piece then, not bad for a battle we nearly died in." Hroth let the sarcasm hang in the air for a moment. "So why haven't you split up the earnings with the rest of Red Lightning?"

Willy's head bowed down and he said solemnly. "Ye and me are all that's left, lad. No one else made it out alive." Hroth didn't know how to feel. At first he was ecstatic, but then he realized how many men that really was. Some of them had stood next to Hroth, fighting for each other's lives. And certainly, many were much closer to Willy. Most of them were good men, but Hroth was alive, and now he was rich. His plans for his riches soon erased the guilt of the deaths of the other men. But he held his tongue, for willy's sake.

"I know how yer feelin' lad. And it is fine to feel that way. Ye and me are alive, and now we are rich. Some of them men were my friends, but they'd be thinking the same things we are now, if our places were switched. We'll toast their lives when yer feelin' better. But fer now ye need some rest. Perhaps ye even need a nurse. I'll go find ye one, and perhaps she can make sure all yer lower extremities are werkin'." Willy grabbed the pouch, and walked out of the room.

Aside from the pain, Hroth could get used to this lifestyle.

[Quadhund/Greenhouse]

1 Tarsakh 1361

The sun was beginning to rise over the docks, the bright light, reflecting off the surface of the water. A strong wind blew out of the west, sure to bring in more than just the smells of the sea. Hroth stood at the edge of the dock, waiting for the sight. Though he usually detested the docks, he was willing to spend a bit of time there in hopes that his prize would be arriving.

While Hroth was on the mend, he had determined that the best way to spend his money was to invest. It took a terrible time convincing willy as well, but hroth could not start a profitable business venture with his money alone. Willy was more content to spend his money on women and booze. Though hroth didn't mind endulging those pleasures, he was thinking ahead to when they would be out of money again, and would have to return to the life of mercenaries. Hroth liked the idea more of putting his money to work now, and being able to reap the benefits later without much worry. Thus, he had looked into hiring a ship and crew to purchase a few goods to bring into port. There were several hundred merchant vessels that came into Telflamm's ports each day, and hroth knew competition would be strong. But he also thought he held an advantage over the other merchants. While with the Shadow Thieves, he had come to learn of the black market and what goods were highly prized, and what goods were easily accessible. He also had come across names of people who could get you anything. He had given a list of contacts and items to purchase to the captain of the ship.

The plan had been for the Hrothgar and Willy to unload their own goods from the boat, as the captain didn't want anything to do with it. Hrothgar had also had to pay a considerable sum more for the captain's disgression. Once unloaded, Hroth and Willy would have to deal with the dock masters. While the ship was away, hroth had spent time figuring out which dock masters could be bribed. Then he had arranged for the dock master of choice to be on duty the same day the ship came in.

Hroth had spent a considerable amount of their coin on this venture, but he knew that since it was a simple two man operation, the profits would be at least ten times what they had started with.

Willy spit into the water. "Do ye think they will be gettin' here this mornin'? I'll be needin' a drink soon if we'll be waitin' much longer." Hroth scanned the horizon. He sighed and motioned for Willy to leave. Hours passed and the sun rose in the sky. Though the spring had not ended yet, it was considerably warm that day. Hroth rolled up the sleeves of his tunic and laid his hand to rest upon the shortsword on his hip. Ships had begun dotting the horizon since day break, but none were his ship. Eventually he saw it, the tan sails billowing in the winds, and the flag flying the emblem of some sort of sea bird. Hroth smiled and turned to find willy.

The ship docked and Hroth's anticipation grew. There were so many things that could have gone wrong on the voyage, each causing his venture to have been a waste. A plank hit the dock, and the captain strode down. He was an eccentric fellow, wearing blue trousers, brown boots, a yellow tunic, and a red plumed hat. His skin was a tanned color, but it always had the look that he had covered himself in oil. He had thick black hair and a long mustache, curled at the ends. He carried a rapier at his side.

"Greetings Jervis, how did you fare?" Hroth always thought the man's name just didn't quite fit him.
"Fine matey, just fine. Though the goods you instructed me to purchase were a bit more expensive than what you had indicated. I could not buy as many goods as you had planned for. I also had to bribe an additional dock master to get them on board."
Hroth suspected Jervis was trying to skim some more profit for himself. The prices he had used in his calculation had included the possibility of the goods being hard to come by, as well as all the bribing for the dock masters on the other side. It was time to let Jervis know Hroth was no amatuer at this. He nodded slightly to Willy. Willy rushed Jervis, grabbing him by his yellow collar. Hroth ambled over to him and removed his rapier from the scabbard.
"Now, I had thought our original price we had agreed upon was quite fair. And now you wish to go ahead and fabricate some lie for a bit more coin? I suppose my impression of you, Jervis, was wrong. I thought you a man of honor that I could continue to do business with, both of us making a decent profit." He placed the tip of the rapier underneath his jaw. Jervis closed his eyes and sighed.
"Calm down mates, I can see you aren't looking for a fight. I suppose I just took you to be some fresh off the boat mercenaries trying to play their hand at a bit of illegal trade. Now my men up there, they are a still loyal to me, and Im sure they have their bows already. But seeing as how you could kill me and maybe get away alive, I suppose it is best for me to be a bit honest," he said with a smug smile. Hroth looked up at the boat and did notice many of the men already had bows trained on him and willy. This was a fight he did not want, but he couldnt back down now. "The goods were priced at what you had said, but I did have to bribe an additional dock master. The bit of coin of yours that was left over is in my cabin along with your goods. I had only intended to keep one case for myself, as i was intrigued at why this stuff would be illegal. Now if you'll let me go, I'll show you to your goods."
Hroth nodded to willy, and willy let him go. Hroth placed his rapier back in the scabbard. Jervis nodded in appreciation, adjusted his collar, and led them up the plank. His cabin door swung open to reveal four wooden crates, each small enough for a man to carry. Hroth unlatched one and lifted the top. A familiar smell came to his nose, and a flood of memories from his childhood overcame his mind. He picked up a dried leaf, put it in his mouth and chewed. Instantly, his mind began to wander as he thought of the sun and sky. He turned to look at Willy and Jervis, both had a quizical look upon their faces. He chuckled at them, and spat the leaf's remains on the floor. Hroth looked about the room and instantly absorbed all the contents. He knew this was an affect of the leaf, his mind was open now, and information and thoughts flowed freely about. Satisfied, he closed the lid of the box.
"My thanks Jervis. I will be in touch with you once we have sold off a majority of this shipment. Most likely we will need to make a larger purchase next time." Hroth picked up one of the boxes a began to carry it down to the docks. Jervis interrupted him.
"Might I just try a bit of it?" Hroth laughed at him, not out of scorn, but he could see in Jervis what he expected to see in the faces of many of the citizens of Telflamm. Hroth opened the case and pulled out another leaf.
"Just don't swallow it." He said and then continued to unload his goods off the dock.
Willy and Hroth began to carry their goods back to the inn. Hroth hadn't quite figured out how to go about selling them just yet. He knew that though the laws were lax, most likely, his goods would be commandeered by the local government, once its affects were discovered. He had to find a fence, or some contact to the black market. As if the gods were watching his thoughts, two men stepped out of the alleyway right in front of Hroth and Willy. They wore matching apparel: Grey leathers, a black belt, and black boots. The only difference was one wore a fedora. The one with a hat spoke.
"Greetings gents! As you may well know, there is a certain tax on all goods coming into and out of the harbor. Did you happen to pay your tax?"
Willy growled at the boy, "Listen hear lad, ye best be gettin' out o' me way. We already paid the dock master, and we ain't payin' no one else!"
"Well if that's the way you feel," the one with the hat turned, and slightly wiped his index finger under his nose as if he were scratching himself. Hroth recognised this as a typical theif sign that business was "finished".
"Willy, watch ..." But it was too late. Willy crumpled to the groud spilling his goods everywhere. As soon as hroth had seen the sign, he had dropped his goods, and tried to dive to his left. A cudgel caught him in the shoulder, which was obviously aimed for the back of his head. The blow stung, but at least he was conscious, unlike willy. He rolled off his shoulder, and as he came out his roll, drew his shortsword, but he did not carry his shield with him this day. He hadn't heard the two men sneak up behind him and willy, but now he faced four men: two held cudgels, one was drawing forth a wicked looking dagger, and the other brandished a pair of brass knuckles. The odds were against him. He could leave Willy there to meet whatever fate, but he would also be leaving his goods behind. But he saw an opportunity arising from the situation. Slowly he sheathed his sword, and made the Shadow Thieves sign for being a member. He had hope that they may recognise it as a sign similar to their theives cant. The four men stopped breifly and looked at each other. The one with the hat spoke. "Shadow Thief eh? What are you doing in our town?" he sneered.
"Well i was hoping to make a business proposition. Seems i was in luck finding just the right kind of people."
"We don't handle the business. You'll have to talk to the boss. You can come with us, because if the boss doesn't like what you say, you'll be dead anyways." Two of the men approached hroth, bound his hands behind him and placed a blindfold over his eyes. "What of my friend?"
"We can't carry him. He'll just have to stay here." He could hear them gathering his boxes and they started to walk off.
"I suppose Willy is better off than I am," was all hroth could think to himself.

[Quadhund/Greenhouse]

1 Tarsakh 1361

Hroth hated the position he had been put in. They had the advantage on him, and could kill him at any time. Hroth grew anxious as they continued to walk. From the ground under foot, hroth could tell they were walking through the alley ways. It might be better that he couldn't see anything, for with each squishing foot step came the rank smell of human offal. They stopped for a moment, and hroth heard a knock on wood. There was the familiar sound of a sliding shutter, then some muffled talking. A few moments of quiet, then the scraping of iron on wood. They began to move again, into a building. Hroth gritted his teeth. At least before, in the open, he would have had somewhere to run, or someone might have seen something. Now he was trapped. He sensed that it was just him and one of the fellows now. The others must have taken his goods to the storeroom. Another door was opened, and then he was forced to sit on a stool. The door was closed. The air held the musty smell of old tomes, with just the hint of pipeweed lingering.
"What is this?" asked a husky voice with a thick accent.
"This bloke were trying to smuggle in goods on his own."
"And you did not deal with him accordingly?" The steadiness of his voice belied the seething anger hroth felt emanating from the man.
"He's a shadow theif, sir." There was a moment of silence. Hroth's anxiety turned to queasiness, and he could feel the sweat beading on his head. How he wished he could wipe it away, at least to hide a little of his uneasiness.
"Why should I not kill you?" Hroth could tell the question was directed at him, though it could have easily been directed at the other man.
"I would like to propose a business proposition." Hroth wished he could see the man, wished he could see anything. He was literally in the dark.
A halting laugh burst from the man with broken common.
"You have no hand with which to extend a deal. I have your goods, and you are my captive. You have nothing to offer."
Hroth cringed slightly at the truth. He had to grab at anything. "Your underlings did a poor job of cleaning up their mess. They left my friend alive. When he wakes up, he will rally our other fellows and come looking for me. They won't hesitate to kill anyone who stands in their way."
There was another moments pause. Hroth assumed he had at least struck a little nerve by revealing the flaw of the mugging. Hroth hoped the man was shooting the underling an evil look.
"You lie. You would not carry such valuables, just two men. You may have one friend alive, but you have no others. Perhaps I should keep you alive just to ransom you off to your friend."
Hroth sighed. He was losing any ground he had hoped to make in this conversation.
"Listen, you know I'm a shadow theif, so you know I have some minor skill. You also know I was capable enough to smuggle in these goods. Had I known that I hadn't paid enough to whatever loose lipped bastard that betrayed me, I might have gotten away with it. The men you hire now are idiots," Hroth could feel the underling's eyes burning into his back,"because they did such a terrible job."
"How did they do such a terrible job if you are sitting before me?"
"It was sloppy. Either you own the law enforcement around here, or there aren't any rival gangs. Either way, leaving a witness alive and able to squeal is the worst thing you could do. If it were me, I would have waited to see where the goods were dropped off, found out if the marks had any other commodities, and then lifted them when no one was around."
A longer pause. A memory began to creep into the back of Hroth's mind. The eerie feeling of deja vu of a time earlier in his life when he had to barter for his life. This is getting old, he thought to himself. I'll have to make it a point to avoid getting myself into these situations again.
Hroth's train of thought was broken by the closing of a book.
"I have a job for you. If you do it, you be taken care of by me. If fail, you be dead. A man named Verol live in rich neighborhood. This one refuses to cooperate. He does not understand how things are run in this city. He say he try to clean up offal of city. I am not offal ... HE is offal. However, cannot remove him directly. We need to show him not so bad to work with us. He has a daughter. Bring her to me so that we may begin negotiations with the man."
Hroth was grabbed tightly by his arm and lifted from the stool. Moments later, he was thrown back into the alleyway. The door slammed shut and he could tell he was alone. As he lay on the ground amongst the fetid refuse, he began to undo his bonds. Took him a minute, but he got it. As he stood and brushed himself off, a smile crept onto his face. "That went better than expected."

[Quadhund/Greenhouse]

1 Tarsakh 1361
"So ye live fer another day?" Willy held a cold tankard to his head. The sunlight that filtered in through the dirty windows dispersed amongst the day old smoke. Hroth felt as though he had walked into dream.
"We need to talk. And this probably isn't the best place."
They went up stairs. Hroth contemplated exactly what he was going to tell Willy. There would be questions, and Hroth didn't know how much longer he could continue to lie to the only man he trusted. It was finally time to tell Willy his story. They entered Willy's room, and hroth closed and bolted the door behind him. Willy plopped down on his bed. He took a long pull from his mug and looked at Hroth expectantly. Hroth let out a deep sigh.
"Willy ... There are some things I need to tell you. I have been deceiving you since the day I met you. You never asked about my past, and that I appreciate. But what I did tell you was all lies. I am going to need your help in the near future, and for that you will need to trust me." He paused a moment to let the words sink in. The hardest part was other, and Willy still held a blank expression. Hroth wasn't sure if he should be worried if Willy would pounce on him and try to throttle him, or if he would just leave.
"My name isn't Bruno ... it's Hrothgar. And when you found me I was running from the shadow theives. Now, it seems that I have gotten us into some more trouble with a different gang of theives. And I say us, because I fear that if I fail, they will not hesitate to come after you. I consider you my best friend and I wouldn't want that to happen." He paused again, hoping to see any sort of reaction from Willy.
Willy sat there impassively. A scowl grew on his face and he slammed his tankard down on the table. He rose from the bed and approached Hroth. Hroth held his ground fearing the worst was about to happen. Faster than hroth could reacte, Willy wrapped his arms around him and began ... laughing. Hroth wore a baffled look.
With tears in his eyes, willy turned to him and said, "Boy, this old man taint old enough to be blind, deaf, AND dumb. I knew since the day I met ye that ye were runnin' from somethin'. Knew ye had a troubled past, that's why I offered ye some help. Saw a bit o' meself in ye. I ain't had the most respectable past either, but it is jest that ... the past. I'm a forward movin' man, and I won't hold this against ye. It tells me alot, that ye was brave enough to tell me de truth. I'll stick by ye."
Hroth relaxed slightly. Perhaps this hardened veteran did have a soft spot. Maybe it was part of his nature, or it was picked up with the passing of years, either way Hroth knew they could trust one another. "You had better hold your tongue till I explain what must be done."
The two of them sat for a while. Hroth told Willy of his past. Willy seemed unmoved by what Hroth told him, and he could only assume that Willy's past was just as bad. Hroth went on to describe his meeting with the theives and what they asked him to do. Willy did not look pleased.
"I may be a merc, but that's damned crazy. It's a little girl! Don't ye be thinkin' that she might get hurt?"
"Aye, she might be. But her chances of getting hurt increase if we aren't the ones to do this. The other fellows wouldn't bat an eye at putting a knife at her. If we do this though, we control the situation."
"And ye say the only other option is being hunted down like dogs, eh?"
"Aye," Hroth nodded his head solemnly.
"And all I wanted to do is enjoy my platinum with a stout in me hand and a wench on me lap."
Hroth could see that Willy was in, no matter what he felt about the situation. Once they got the girl, they would have a bargaining chip. To appease Willy's moral dilemna, they would make sure they held her until the "negotiations" were held. Perhaps, they might even get their boxes of pipeweed back. Hroth shook his head. He was getting ahead of himself. Getting the girl wasn't a sure thing, but it had it's promises.

[Quadhund/Greenhouse]

3 Tarsakh 1361
Verol wasn't hard to find. Rumor of his disdain for the Shadowmaster's was heard everywhere. It took Hroth little time to find out what he needed to know. Verol had begun backing a mercenary group called the Black Eagle Company. They were small now, but threatened to grow more powerful if Verol continued to convince other nobles to fund them. For the longest time, the Shadowmasters had gone unchecked by the Royal Militia, and Verol realized this.
"It's no wonder our 'employer' wants to negotiate with him." A chill rain pelted him in the face. Storms had blown up off the sea and it had continued to rain for all of the day and did not look like it was going to let up. Hroth watched the ships docked in Heskel Cove sway back and forth. The dark bodies rose and fell with each coming and going of the hard waves. They looked like dancing shadows. Ocean spray awoke him from his reverie. Willy chuckled slightly.
"Ye better get yer head straight, der's the ole gate. We better start actin' de part."
Hroth and Willy had gained many of the rumors from two drunken members of the Black Eagle Company. They also found that the Black Eagle Company was in charge of the protection of Verol's house. After Willy incited a riot between a couple of Black Eagle's and some Royal Militia, it had been no problem to strip the two men of their uniforms. Now the plan was to infiltrate the house under the guise of Black Eagles.
They passed under the Old Gate and headed west down the street. The rain had slicked the cobblestones, making it that much harder for Hroth to walk in boots that didn't fit. Hroth grumbled to himself and wished for the night to be over if for no other reason than to take off the hard leather boots. Verol's house came into view. The house was modest for a noble merchant lord. No intricate carvings and the windows were plain glass. There were three sets of windows on the second floor and two on the first. One guard stood at attention next to the front door under an awning. He studied Hroth and Willy as they approached.
"Hail. What's your business on this foul eve?" A cold wind blew as the guard spoke, nearly blowing out his torch light.
"We're new recruits." As Willy said this, Hroth saw a transformation come over Willy. He had seen it before, mostly in bars when a fight was about to break out. Hroth was even a little scared of him when he put on this demeanor.
"Of course ... back door." The young guard had nearly blanched white at the sight of Willy.
As they walked to the back, Hroth said,"Easy enough. How do you make people so scared of you?"
"Taint nothin'. Ye jes give em a look like der is more to be scared of than death, and yer one of em."
They passed the rear guard with even less difficulty. They entered what looked like a guard barracks. Three men sat playing cards and looked up as they entered. Willy just gave them a nod and walked into another room. Hroth followed hesitantly. The men returned to their game of cards.
"They didn't even ask any questions?!"
"Ye should know better. Half o' a disguise is makin' sure ye look like ye know what yer doin'. And, they're mercs. A merc don't move unless his boss tell him otherwise, or someone else pays him to move."
They figured they had little time before they passed another guard that would ask questions. They started upstairs. A lone guard sat in the hallways reading a book. Hroth and Willy nodded to one another. The guard stood as they approached. "Hey, you're not my relief. Who .." Willy's right hook knocked the man clear off his feet. There was a loud thud as his body hit the floor, followed by two other distinct thuds of teeth.
"That was subtle." Hroth drew a knife from his belt and went to slit the man's throat. Willy grabbed his forearm and shook his head. Hroth gave him a puzzled look.
"The man jes tryin' to do his job. He don't deserve to die like that. Help me carry him in the room."
They opened the door he had been sitting beside, and dragged him in. As they laid him down, a bright flash and the smell of striking sulfur came from behind them. A girl not more than 12 summers old, sat in her bed holding a candle. Hroth and Willy looked at each other.
"You've come for me, haven't you?" She said with a voice like a songbird. The little girl's appearance threw Hroth off. She was not fearful like he expected, nor was she full of rage. She was as calm as an oak with no wind.
Willy walked up to her. "Aye we have, child. But we won't hurt ye so long as ye listen to us and don't give us any problems."
"I know. Daddy told me that I shouldn't struggle, that he would get me back later. He said that only if the men tried to hurt me should I fight. But you look nice enough," she smiled. This unnerved Hroth to no end. Between her attitude and the nature of the situation, something felt out of place. This is not what he expected at all. Willy, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying the ease of things. He approached her and picked her up.
Hroth walked forward apprehensively. "Do you think this wise? I think we should bind her. She could be trying to get us to let our guard down."
"Stop yer worrying, she's jes a girl. She ain't gonna do us no harm." He walked smoothly from the room with the girl draped over his shoulder. Hroth followed nervously, making sure not to let his guard down.
"Which way is easiest to get out, little one?" Willy asked the girl.
'You're taking directions from her now?! She could lead us into a trap!"
Willy silenced him with a look. The little girl led them through the cellar and out what must have been a tunnel in case of a fire.
"See, no trap. She is quite the trustworthy ragamuffin." Willy said with the proud smile of a father. This unnerved Hroth even further and he shot the girl a glare. She stuck her tongue out at him.

The next day, Hroth made contact with his new "employers". They were quite pleased with his performance. They were reluctant to let Willy hold onto the girl, but after a look from Willy, they complied quickly. They also allowed Hroth and Willy to have 50% of the profits from their weed as well as the potential for future jobs. All things given, Hroth was happy with how the situation turned out, except for Willy. A change came over Willy with the little girl. He protected her like she was his own, and Hroth tried to remind him that she would go back to her father when he had gave in to the Shadowmaster's demands.

A week passed and Hroth was contacted by the shou named Ling, the one that had originally given Hroth his assignment. Ling told Hroth that Verol had taken his own life, and that the Shadowmasters no longer needed them to hold the girl. Ready to be rid of her, Hroth told Willy. Willy frowned at him,"She ain't got no where to go now. She be stayin' wit us." The finality of the statement made Hroth rock back on his heels. What the hells would they do with a little girl?
Willy walked into the next room. The little girl looked up at Willy, "Can I go home now and see daddy?"
"Soon, little one, soon..."

[Quadhund/Greenhouse]

21 Hammer 1364
Keshna waded through the growing crowd. Again the cannons could be heard like a distant thunder growing closer. Yet another explosion, and flames shot into the air high enough for Keshna to see over the man in front of her. She pushed on through the crowd. When she came upon Hroth and Willy, they too were watching the events unfold.
"Who do you think they are?" Hroth asked Willy.
"Don't know, but I ain't never seen anyone so bold as to begin attacking merchant vessels within a harbor. All I can tell ye is that things are about ta change in Telflamm."
The ten corsairs flying flags with sharks upon them, were using a split formation to corral the last two merchant vessels. So far the destruction had been one sided and at least five merchant vessels had been sunk, their remains still burning on the freezing water. One of the merchant vessels was wise enough to drop anchor and surrender themselves. The other decided to continue to run. In the blink of an eye, the pirate vessels unleashed upon the ship. Another flash, and the ship was gone, smoke rising from the sea. Keshna grabbed Willy's hand and gave it a squeeze. Without looking at her, he turned to Hroth with a steely gaze and gave him a quick nod. Hroth knew they were about to get more work.

[Quadhund/Greenhouse]

26 Hammer 1364
Hroth pulled his hood tight around his face. The bitter wind nearly took his breath away with its bite. Gods above, why couldn't this place be as pleasant as Calimshan in the winters. Hroth gave a hard kick against the door so he did not have to relinquish his hold of the hood. The window slid open and Hroth muttered the password. The door was opened quickly and closed even more quickly. Hroth walked over to the fire place immediately and began to warm his gloved hands.
"Ling busy?"
The doorman shook his head and took his seat beside the door. Hroth strode into Ling's office.
"Why haven't I heard from you yet?" Hroth asked with all the bitterness of the winter wind.
"Welcome, I see cold air put you in bad mood. We taking our time with this situation. Not as easy as take care of other nuisances. You not understand how delicate nature this be." Ling's demeaning tone and smug smile made Hroth grit his teeth. Ever since their first meeting, Hroth knew Ling was not a man to be trifled with. And despite being the only contact to the Shadowmasters that he had, Hroth still hated him. But business and personal matters needed to be seperate.
For the past three years, Hroth had worked closely with Ling, mostly in the smuggling racket. Ling would often take more than his share for the distribution of the goods, and Hroth could also tell that at most half of that amount was being filtered into the guild. But how could he argue when the only other option was to go out on his own and try and take on the whole guild. So his hatred grew as Ling sat there taking away from Hroth's profits. With the corsairs having moved in, Hroth's income would be severely hampered.
Ling fully understood Hroth's predicament and smile showed on his face that he was enjoying it slowly like a fine wine. "Do not worry, we of course have extra job for you."
Aside from smuggling, Hroth had done some side jobs with Willy. Mostly they were just the strong arms for when merchants were failed to pay their protection money. A few times, Hroth had done some solo jobs to "acquire" goods. He wouldn't have minded doing more of this work, but he would have to become a guild member in order to get a license. The only thing stopping him from that was that he would have to become a follower of Mask, since the church and guild were closely connected. Hroth never held much faith in any particular god, and he didn't feel like he was ready yet to devote himself to a deity.
"What is so difficult about this situation? Don't the "all powerful" shadowmasters have some way of dealing with this?" Hroth was pleased to see the mocking of the shadowmasters turn down Ling's smile.
"It difficult because merchant's want deal with Sharkjaws! We no have ships, and without cooperation of merchants, we no have means to strike back. Leader say we hold off till we have plan to get rid of Sharkjaws. In meantime, no count on shipments getting through."
Hroth's eyes flared. Despite the fact that Ling was no where near responsible for what was occurring, Hroth decided to focus his anger on him.
"You slimey bastard. You and the rest of your foppish thieves are useless." Hroth spun on his heel and stormed out the door. He heard Ling yell behind him.
"I think you upset, maybe go cool off outside. We talk later." The wind could not drown out the halting laugh that rang in Hroth's ears.

[Quadhund/Greenhouse]

26 Hammer 1364
Willy sat by the fire with a blanket laid over his legs, snoring. Keshna sat to his left, her posture as straight as an arrow. Just another quirk of hers that unnerved Hroth.
"So what will YOU do?" she said with the songbird voice of hers.
Hroth shook his head. He had just finished explaining his meeting with Ling. Keshna's response emphasized the responsibility laying on Hroth's shoulders. Willy was getting on in age and was only capable of performing jobs when it was absolutely required of him. Since he had always been there for Hroth, Hroth felt it his duty to the old man to make sure he was comfortable in the late years of his life. And Keshna was far too inexperienced at this point to be the provider for their unique "family".
Hroth slumped into a chair and put his face in his hands. "There is not much WE can do but wait. Keshna, you could speak with your tutor and see if knows the temperment of other guild members. Perhaps if the Sharkjaws begin digging too deep into the pockets of the Shadowmasters, it may hasten their "business" along."
She stared at him calmly. It was the same face she had worn, and nearly almost always wore, when they had kidnapped her. The only time Hroth could remember seeing the little girl upset was the day that Hroth and Willy had informed her of her father's death. She left the room with tears in her eyes, and the two men did not see her till the next day. Her face retained the calm lines, but the look in her eyes was one of steel. It was as if the death of her father had opened her eyes to her destiny, and she accepted it. From that point on, everything she did was with purpose.
Unlike most girls on the verge of womanhood, she was extremely pragmatic. She quickly accepted Willy as her adopted father despite the fact that he had been one of the causes for her father's death. She looked at the situation not without emotion, but with the insight of the future. As unnerving as it was, Hroth respected this quality of her to put things in the past and accept the present. She also had the unique talent to seperate work and pleasure. When she enjoyed something, she did not hide it behind a facade. And if her teacher asked a task of her, and she did not enjoy it, she would accomplish it without question or hesitance.
Willy was a natural parent to her. He sought to always provide for her and look to provide a future for her. Not many months after she had come to live with them, he thought to send her for schooling at The Gold Pillars, temple of Waukeen. Here he had hoped she would ply the trade of many of Telflamm's people, and become a successful merchant. Hroth approached Willy one day about it. He had seen her sneaking out late one night and decided to follow her. He followed her to the House of the Master's Shadow. Hroth had never entered the building for fear of upsetting some of his contacts, but he knew exactly what it was. It seemed to Hroth that the place somehow fit Keshna. When he told Willy this, despite his disasppointment of the failure of raising her honestly, Willy accepted it. When the two of them approached her about it, she was not shocked that they had found out, nor was she shocked when they told her they accepted her decision. Hroth got the impression that she knew her fate, and any person that got in her way was a fool. So Hroth and Willy trained her in the last few years with the skills that they knew so that she would be very prepared on whatever forays her teachers had in store for her. She learned quickly and even surpassed hroth in certain skills.
Being fifteen summers old, her teenage body was one of subtle curves and an acrobat's physique. Where she lacked in the physical strength of a man, she made up with in her flexibility and speed. If Hroth didn't think of her as a sister, he may have sought to pursue her. But then he remembered a particularly interesting sparring match. He would never forget the look in her eyes the one time she beat him. The look was cold fury, which one could mistake for being emotionless. But Hroth knew that that was inner strength that she possessed and pushed herself with. He knew at that point, he never wanted to be on her badside.
"Hopefully it won't be long before the Sharkjaws press too hard." Hroth lifted his head and added,"I hate waiting."

[Quadhund/Greenhouse]

29 Ches 1366
Hroth could feel his lips turning blue. His muscles were cramping, but he continued to push on. If he didn't keep the blood flowing, the deadly waters would claim his life. He took a moment to turn his head to the side and see how Keshna was doing. Unsurprisingly, she was focused on their target ahead. The large ship was close now. From the water level, Hroth was unable to tell if there were any guards patrolling the deck. They would just have to play it safe. Spray from a wave crashing on the side of the ship temporarily blinded him. When he opened his eyes, Keshna was gone. Hroth stopped and began treading water. Then he noticed the light on the deck. Quickly, he pushed himself underwater and held his breath. He pushed on underwater, holding his breath till he felt as though his chest was going to implode. Despite the urgency of needing air, he came up slowly. The guard had passed and Hroth was now within five feet of the ship. Keshna swam quietly up beside him. Hroth lifted an air tight pouch out of the water and tried to open it without getting the contents wet. He handed Keshna a pair of climbing claws, and took out a pair for himself. By the time Hroth had resealed the bag, Keshna was already half way up the side of the ship. Hroth shook his head and began the climb. Without the climbing claws, it would have been impossible for them to climb the side of the ship. They were shaped like a crowbar, but the end had four extremely sharp points. These also carried a slight enchantment on them to aid in the holding of the claw to the wood surface. It was slow going, and though the wind carried a warm breeze, it still chilled him to the bone. Hroth had to continue to push himself mentally. If he stiffened up, he would most likely lose his grip and fall, crashing into the waves below. Not only would he then have to contend with the guards, but also the threat of the sea. Hroth peered over the edge of the ship. Blood dripped from the dagger she held in her teeth. She looked up and motioned for Hroth to come help her. He climbed over the edge, and began helping her undress the two men she had killed. She is getting good, he thought to himself. I wonder how they practice? When they had finished, they dumped the bodies over the edge of the ship and began dressing in their clothes. The only piece of clothing they did not adorn were the thick soled boots, but instead wore the soft slippers Hroth removed from his pouch. The front of his shirt was drenched in blood, but it was hardly noticeable on the dark garment with only half a moon shining upon him. At least it was better than the wet undergarments he had worn just moments ago. They moved quietly below deck. The rest of the crew slept noisely below, and they passed them by with ease. Then they made it to the cannon room. They were supposed to be looking for barrels with kegs of black powder in them. They had been told that if these were ignited together, the whole ship would go down. It didn't take them long to find the kegs. They dumped much of the stuff on the floor of the ship, and put several barrels amidst a pile of the black stuff. They then placed a trail of the stuff to the base of the hatch leading above. Keshna would stay below while Hroth would go above and signal to the shore that they were in position. Hroth headed to what was most likely the Captain's quarters. He tried door and, as he suspected, it was locked. He pulled his pick and probe from his pouch and began working on the door. It was a simple enough lock and only took him but a moment. He carefully opened the door and peered inside. A well groomed man lay asleep in a hammock. He was snoring softly. Hroth walked over to his desk, and began rifling through papers. He gathered what he could and placed it in his pouch. He then grabbed a bullseye lantern. He closed the cabin door behind him. He walked over to the side of the ship and watched the shoreline. A cloud passed over the moon, blanketing the bay in darkness. With that, Hroth was able to see the signal lights on the shore line. He signaled back with his lantern and went to give Keshna the signal. When he looked down the hatch, he was worried something had happened. He did not see her at first, but then she stepped forward from the shadows, like a body emerging from water. He gave her a nod. She pulled out some flint and steel and lit the trail of black powder. The noise was only loud enough to awaken some of the light sleepers, but before they knew what was happening, Keshna was up on deck. The two of them leaped from the deck into the water and began to swim hard. A thunderous boom was heard to their left, and like dominos, a sequence of other explosions occurred, ending with theirs.

It is done, Hroth thought to himself, as he doggedly approached the shore. The Shadowmasters had gotten their revenge on the Sharkjaws. It had been two years of warfare. The Sharkjaws had refused to bargain with the Shadowmasters, and why should they? They held the advantage. They controlled the influx of goods through the bay, and the merchants needed them. Without the merchants under their hold, the Shadowmasters were losing control of the city. After a botched assassination attempt of Evgruth, the Sharkjaws held up more on their ships, and expected a fight every time they came into the city. Though this plan seemed ultimately simple, it had taken a long time to enact due to certain politics. Hroth didn't care much about the details. His part had been played. He thought to himself that this had been the best executed job he had ever undertaken.

[Quadhund/Greenhouse]

19 Eleint 1368
This was the worst executed job I've ever been on, Hroth thought to himself. He dragged Willy's body through the alleyway as fast as he could. His body was soaked in sweat and he was breathing hard. "Gods old man, you weigh too much," Hroth said through gritted teeth. Willy's only response was a slight groan. Hroth heard a splash in the street behind him, and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Keshna approaching.
"I have only lost them momentarily, they will find us eventually," she said coolly, looking down at Willy.

This was supposed to have been her initiation night. It was her first job alone. The high priest of Mask, Jalaunther Ithbreeiur, had charged her with the theft of a holy relic from the Tower of Tempus. There she was supposed to recover a holy sword, supposedly blessed by Tempus. Despite Keshna's protests that she could handle this by herself, Hroth and Willy compromised that it would be best that they at least go and keep watch.
Everything seemed to be going according to plan, until Hroth noticed something out of place. As he watched, men seemed to be gathering on the roof tops surrounding the temples. Each of them began to take up position to fire crossbows on the temple. Hroth could only guess that they were here to kill Keshna, but why? They couldn't be shadowmasters because to kill an initiate on an eve like this, would mean harsh punishment from the church. A rival gang? How would they have found out the details? At this point, it didn't matter who they were, if Hroth's assumption was correct. Hroth explained the situation to Willy, and they tried to devise a plan. It would take too long to try and climb to the roofs and take care of them up there. Their best bet was to try and run distraction for her, and use cover to get her to safety. As she came into view, Hroth and Willy could see she was already in battle with two people. They charged in to her aid. They ran in a zigzag pattern to make it more difficult for the snipers to place a bead on them. Hroth could hear the bolts clacking of the cobblestones. As they neared Keshna, Hroth drew his short sword and shield. Without looking behind her, Keshna parried the two attackers blades forcing them high. She dropped down and did a back somersault. Without missing a beat, Hroth leapt over her and used his momentum to bash the wide-eyed man. The two of them tumbled to the ground. Hroth quickly got to his feet, noticing his opponent was still slightly dazed at what had just happened. Hroth parried a bolt with his shield and charged his opponent, raising his shortsword for a killing blow. The man parried on his back, but the parry was too weak and he lost his blade. Hroth gave his blade a twist as he withdrew it from the man's gut. Willy cryed out, and Hroth spun to see him with a bolt in his shoulder. As Willy staggered, the other assailant moved in to strike. Hroth noticed Keshna on the ground with a fearful look on her face. He had never seen her like that before. Hroth charged as fast as he could, but he knew there would be no way he would stop the other man before he struck. But the man's strike faltered. As he had raised his blade, Keshna's feign had caused him to let his guard down. She sprung up, like a cat pouncing on its prey, hamstringing him and then catching him in the heart as he crumpled from the pain in his leg. The relief did not last long, as Willy took another bolt to his leg. Willy fell to his knees, and Hroth continued to run toward him. He dropped his blade and shield and grabbed Willy with both his hands. "I'll be of no use to you, I'll try and draw some of their fire," Keshna said as she darted off in the opposite direction. Hroth heaved with all his strength and got Willy to his feet, placed his arm around his shoulder and began to run. They made it to an alley and just as Hroth was beginning to get hopefully, another bolt struck Willy, the tip portruding from his gut covered in gore. Willy lost his footing and fell. Refusing to give up Hroth drug him under as much cover as he could find.

Willy coughed up some blood. "I ... I don't know what to do," Hroth said.
"We must leave him, they will catch us for sure if we do not." Hroth shot Keshna a fierce glare.
"We will NOT leave him behind. Make sure the alley is clear, we head back to the," Hroth paused because Willy had opened his eyes. He reached up and tugged on Hroth's sleeve. Hroth leaned close to him.
"Leave me, boy. I ain't got 'nough kick in me to get out of here. Ye try ta drag me, and they'll catch ye. The girl is right. The two o' ye get out o' here and find out who did this." Hroth couldn't believe this. Once again, the man he looked to as a father was dying before his eyes, but this time, he wouldn't be a coward. He grabbed Willy and began dragging him.
"What are you doing? He said to leave him," Keshna's voice had a slight edge to it.
"He isn't dying in an alleyway. Now go watch our damn back and make sure if anyone comes, you send them straight to the Hells."

After an hour, they were able to get him back to the inn. Luck had been on their side, though they had seen many of these men searching for them, never once did they find their trail. Hroth began the process of removing the bolts from Willy's body. Willy had passed out from the pain, but had awoken with a new fervor. Though he would not scream, Willy's spasms told of immense pain. The sheets of the bed Willy laid upon were soaked in blood. Hroth cursed himself as he tried to remove the bolt from Willy's gut. The wound bled openly and Hroth could find no way to stop the bleeding. With his last ounce of strength, Willy gripped Hroth's hand and his eyes pleaded with Hroth to stop. Keshna stood in the background and watched the events unfold. Willy tried to speak, but his voice was barely audible. Hroth leaned down to hear him better.
"Be a good lad," he said through labored gasps," and fetch me my drink." Hroth hurriedly grabbed the bottle of stout from the table and poured a bit into his mouth.
"I ain't led a good life, but it was at least a life wort' livin'." His eyes wandered over to Keshna. "Make sure yer sister stays out o' trouble, or at least donnae get caught," he began to chuckle but it turned into a hoarse cough. Soon he was in his deaththrows, and eventually his spasms quieted. Hroth laid his head upon Willy's hand and wept. He felt a slight touch on his shoulder.
"Come, let us avenge him." At Keshna's calm words, Hroth turned his sadness into anger. He would make them pay.

19 Eleint 1368
Hroth stared into Ling's almond eyes. Ling wore his smug smile as always, but Hroth was in no mood for his attitude.
"But she got sword, no? Why you upset then?"
"Because I lost my friend."
"Shame. I surprised you live then. So where is sword?" Hroth wasn't sure how information was passed through the guild, but he found it odd that Ling would have been privvy to the knowledge of the sword.
"Keshna has it out there. Don't you care that we were attacked? Don't you understand the implications?!"
"You think I stupid. Course I understand! But most important to deliver sword!" Ling rose from his desk and his voice became harsh.
"That's not important! If these people are after the sword, then we have to make sure its protected. There could be a leak in the guild. There will be no way it will remain safe."
Ling's smug smile grew on his face. He rounded his desk and leaned in close to whisper in Hroth's ear, "You right, there must be traitor in guild."
Before Hroth could respond, Ling struck him in the throat with his bare hand. The blow was so hard, Hroth went backwards over his chair. He thought his throat hand been crushed, he could not breathe nor could he talk. He tried to scream in rage, but nothing came. Ling grabbed him on the shoulder's and brought him to his feet. Ling gave him a poweful front kick to his stomach. Hroth was lifted from his feet and went crashing through the door behind him. Four guards ran into the hallway, along with Keshna. "KILL HER. THEY TRAITORS! TRY TO STEAL FROM CHURCH."
Two of the guards turned to attack Keshna, the other two were falling to the ground already dead. Hroth lay in a ball on the ground, trying to regain his breath. Ling grabbed him by the beard, and turned his face to face Ling. "This traitor's fate. Same as old man's!" He struck Hroth in the face. Bloody teeth flew from Hroth's mouth. His body wanted to lose consciousness. He forced himself awake. You must avenge Willy, he told himself. Don't let this bastard win. Hroth tried to retaliate with a swing to Ling's groin. Ling's hand came down on Hroth's like a stone wall, easily deflecting the blow, if not also breaking his arm. "Accept your fate. You just ugly man that deserve to die."
Hroth wanted to retort with something witty, but all he could do was spit a mouthful of blood at Ling. Hroth had never seen a man killed by a single punch, but he expected to experience it first hand. He kept thinking it was getting darker in the room. Perhaps I am just losing consciousness from the lack of air, that will at least keep this painless. Ling's head flew from his shoulders. Keshna stood behind Ling's crumpling body. She was looking at the blade with a bit of admiration on her face. She is getting good, Hroth thought. Air filled his lungs as he began to cough.

22 Eleint 1368
"So you are leaving?" Keshna looked at him. Like always, her face did not betray whatever emotion she had been feeling.
"I don't think I'm up for fighting these Nine Golden Swords. If they are anything like Ling, I'd need a bigger share of the prize to risk my life. And I know I will not be getting that any time soon."
"You made a good partner, albeit a bit too old sometimes." That was one of the few jokes Keshna had ever said around Hroth. Of course, she may not have been joking.
Hroth lifted his bag, and grabbed the urn.
"Will we meet again?" Keshna asked as he boarded the boat.
"Only the gods can tell. Take care of yourself. And don't get caught." He winked at her. He was off to put his friend to rest in a land that he loved.

[Quadhund/Greenhouse]

16 Flamerule 1370

Hroth watched the sun set behind the mountains. He shifted uncomfortably on his stone seat. He looked down thoughtfully at the chain shirt he wore. This high in the mountains, the summer heat was not quite as intolerable. His gazed turned to the urn that was situated at his feet.

Hroth could tell that this was an end to another chapter in his life. Yet again, he had lost his closest friend in the world and he no longer held ties to anything. Self pity set in, and he cursed the gods for their torture. Would they continue to give him what he desired and then merely take it away when he was close to happiness? Perhaps it is my lack of piety that I have wrought this upon myself, he thought. He shook his head and disregarded the thoughts. "This is just life ... people come and go, die and live ..." He could not help but feel saddened by the cruelty of the world. Tears began to well in his eyes as he stared at Willy's urn. Why me? He placed his face in his hands, and wiped the tears from his eyes. Stop acting a fool, he told himself. You are alive, and you live and learn. If Willy were in your place, he would not stand here blathering like an idiot. Life will go on and you will go on as well. He gritted his teeth. It was true. People had died by his hand, and families and friends probably mourned their losses, but each person must move on.

Hroth reflected on the only piece of Willy's personal history he had ever shared. Willy told him of an older brother that had died at the hand of some bandits near Xorhun. Willy had erected a cairn in his honor and had gone on from there to work in the service of Turmish. Willy had requested that Hroth bury him beside his brother. "Your ashes will have to do, you old crotchety bastard."

Hroth stood and looked at the urn and the cairn beside it. Darkness was settling. Shadows from the trees crept over Hroth like ghostly fingers tantalizing him. "Good bye my friend. May the gods that you worshipped take pity on your soul, and welcome you into their homes."

Hroth turned and headed east, away from the Orsraun Mountains. Once back in Xorhun, he would try to find work as a caravan guard. The only question was: to where? Perhaps Cormyr. Surely he could find some good mercenary work there. As the night creatures came to life, he smiled to himself. Wherever I go, there'll be some coin to make.

//The End.