Darkness, my Friend…

The rain eventually returned and for two days the weather was miserable. Wet streets were abandoned for Drinking Halls, and the commoners turned to small talk over mugs of ale while the dark clouds hung over the Quarry Straights. The Inn of the Stone Chipper was filled with patrons from all walks of life, and the gaming parlor was overflowing with gamblers giving in to their various vices of alcohol, women and risky betting. The diversion of choice was often Trevais; a fast paced game of wit involving stone tiles and glass beads. High stakes between skillful players drew spectators to the second floor of the Inn, and the smoky parlor had standing room only.

This night found Adarmin and Isamyr turning in early; they both passed the hall that led toward the gaming parlor with hardly a glance, and left the loud room behind as they headed straight for the comfort of their chambers. They  gathered their belongings, prepared their travel packs, and went to sleep. They planned to wake before dawn and head for the docks to begin their six hour barge trip to the shores of Ulrymm in the south…to Maeus colony. Sleep came easily for them both; Adarmin had scoured Inner Soldren for two days now, gathering information and listening to superstitious rumor, and Isamyr had attended Mass two days back, and was still spiritually drained from the ordeal. Bishop Phiabe was a forceful speaker and the six hour sermon left the Silvanis head reeling. They both slept heavily…each exhausted from their own efforts; Adarmins long days of probing the locals and exploring Soldren, and Isamyr’s attempts at avoiding the prying eyes of the magistrate and living up to his deceptive claim of being a follower and enthusiast of the religious teachings of Saint Caldrinor (a spontaneous lie used to placate the lord magistrate of Soldren himself)

The rain slowed to a drizzle near midnight, and if not for the heightened hearing of a Silvani mixed with the keen awareness of an assassin it might have masked the sounds of the men scaling the balcony. The group of thugs made quick work of the climb; scaling an ivy lined trellis and slipping over the iron wrought railing. The first of the black clad shadows slid in through the open door of the room as he pulled a dagger from his belt. He made for the bed with quiet deliberate footfalls, but no sooner had he passed the threshold than had he felt the jerk of a razor-thin wire as it tightened around his windpipe.

Isamyr had heard the men in the alley, had pressed his form into the shadows of the room corner, and waited with his garrote ready. He seemed comfortable in the darkness…it seemed to complement him. The cover of night was like a friends warm embrace. Now, the intruder struggled violently against the assassins wire, but Isamyr braced and lifted his opponent and tried to keep his grip til the man lost consciousness. The struggling foes, flailing feet, and gurgling thug was enough to wake Adarmin in the next room, and the sounds of the other ‘night visitors’ were considerably more audible as they scrambled to their companions aid. The Kha’drekan warrior leapt from his bed, and grabbing his flail he rushed out onto his balcony in time to see a shadowy figure passing through the draped doorway of the Silvani’s room. Adarmin’s wings snapped open and with one powerful beat lifted the Anakim over the rail and carried him to the neighboring balcony.

He was unaware of the third intruder who had not yet reached the wet railing, and instead pursued the man who had just entered Isamyr’s door. The room was dark and only a narrow beam of light cast itself across the room from the doorway. There beyond the moonlit center of the chamber, darting silhouettes danced about in a deadly pattern. Adarmin advanced forward with his flail slung back and held at ready.

The Silvani saw the second assailant coming as clear as day. His elven sight viewed the dark room in a very different light. The room was bathed in the bright heat of its occupants. Each man seemed irradiated in an aura of warmth, and even the recently lied in bed, the natural temperature of the wood furnishings, and the cool stone walls seemed to add to the blacks, grays and whites that painted the bedchamber. An easy sidestep and the slashing dagger of the second night blind attacker caught nothing but open air. The return cut, however, met its mark. Isamyr felt his armor give as the blade punctured his abdomen guard and the blood began to flow freely; the wound wasn’t  fatal, but it definitely was in need of tending. Isamyr ignored the throbbing wound and instead drew the cord even tighter around his victims neck. The thug gurgled in protest as the silvani swung his body round to catch the next blow. The dagger lashed out wildly once more, but only sliced empty darkness. The glint of the dagger gave Adarmin an easy target as he viciously swung his flail at the thug. The spiked balls lashed out from the end of their chains and the sound of snapping bone followed by a body crumpling to the floor was definitive and final.

Isamyr was finishing off his own opponent when the third man entered in through the same door. He rushed forward and buried his blade into the back of the towering Kha’dreki. The bite of the wound burned but was far from crippling and Adarmin swung around with his weapon to bear. Blows were traded and by the end of the skirmish a second thug lay battered on the floor in a pool of blood that welled out across the moonbeam that extended from the balcony door, across the floor, to the edge of the bed.

Isamyr had witnessed the entire exchange, he had choked his opponent to death and the body had slumped to the floor when the garrote went slack. He looked up in time to see the fierce final strike as Adarmin’s flail crushed the skull of his opponent. This, the second victim to Adarmin’s vicious weapon, had lit the room with a spray of warm blood as the weapon snapped bone and tore flesh. To the Silvani, the splash of heat resembled sparks from a fire as they jettisoned across the chamber. The droplets covered the east side of the room and quickly faded from bright white to gray as they landed on the cool stone walls and floor.

A lit candle and a quick look at the bodies scattered around the room quickly revealed the motive. The thugs belonged to the ranks of Hephelius the pitmaster.  Adarmin and Isamyr had seen them pitside and at least one of them had grappled with the Silvani. A quick discussion concerning options and consequences, was followed by the decision to depart Soldren as soon as possible. Valmorian society had a firm view concerning murder and local laws restricted weapon use within the borders of the colony. That coupled with the fact that they were both foreigners made for a dangerous combination…especially since one of them was a member of the Sidhe. That would most certainly seal their fate to a life of chain gangs in the quarry pits.

An explanation and apology to the Innmaster, as well as some coin to cover damages, and the traveling companions were heading south along the Road of the Enlightened toward the port district. Passing through the tower of the Port Master was uneventful, and they exchanged nicities with the guardsmen as they made their way to the docks stretched out into the dark waters of the bay. Their way to the east docks was a quiet stroll and the sound of the tide against the rocky shore was calming; a welcome feeling concerning the current circumstances.  The resting place of the ‘Devil’s Brooch’ was a large dock straddled by a stilt home and the wooden boardwalk was covered with crates of stone, mineral kegs, and slabs of granite.Barking dogs brought the bargemen for the Devils Brooch to the docks to see what was amiss.

So, Valorik the Bargemaster was willing to set sail for Maeus immediately for triple the crossing fee….no questions asked. The crew hurried along the docks making quick preparations and soon the large floating platform was underway; raised sails were snapped open under a steady wind and lanterns about the vessel were lit and soon the docks were lost in the darkness of night. The Devil’s Brooch, on the other hand, was truly a spectacle of flickering lamps; a glowing beacon in the bay as it cut its way southward through the heavy fog. The waters and mists around it seemed to reflect the light…emanating an eerie glow. Valorik’s vessel truly was a ‘gem’ floating on the dark waters…the Devil’s Brooch’ seemed a fitting name.

Finally, beyond the Bay of Soldren, Valorik held a twisted hand up and pointed southward. “There beyond the Shallows… there be the beacon light of the Great Ward Tower of Sildrios. It stands vigil over the coast…high above the cliffs at Verdicts Abyss.”

Adarmin and Isamyr stood at the bow of the barge and looked long and hard at the distant light. They knew that they would make shore two days travel from Verdicts Abyss…at the docks of Maeus. Ultimately though, they knew that their journey would bring them to that distant light. Verdicts Abyss was the birth place for the nightmares that plagued the people of Maeus.

“Bargemaster,” said Adarmin without taking his eyes from the light of the Ward Tower, ” what manner of tales do you have about the beasts that prey on the people Maeus….and how might we hope to prevail where others have not?”

“Well then,” replied Valorik, ” if its tales you want, then pull up a seat and brace your souls. I’ve heard all manner of stories coming out of Maeus, and a recounting will take some time, but so will the ‘Crossing’. Lend me your ears…and make of it what you will.”

As the adventurers slid crates close to where Valorik was seated, he stared at them intently; his cold blind eye seemed to penetrate their very souls. “Where to begin then,” questioned the bargeman, ” Ah…the beginning is as good a place as any”

As the eerie tale of the Beasts of Verdicts Abyss crossed the cracked lips of the boatman, the dark waters of the Quarry Straights seemed to contest in choppy opposition. The boat creaked and moaned and the other sailors gathered round to hear the tale that chilled their bones each time they returned to the shores of Ulrymm.

Valorik’s words seemed to take on a life of their own as he spoke. “Three years ago the bloodletting began…three years now the curse has plagued the poor souls of our sister of the stone….”

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