Until Death Do Us Part – Lucky – 30/03/2022
Apr 19, 2022 12:06:45 GMT
Ian (Menace), Jaezred Vandree, and 3 more like this
Post by Lucky on Apr 19, 2022 12:06:45 GMT
Continues after Stop! Thief!
1 ~IN WHICH A KNIGHT SUFFERS THE INCONVENIENCE OF SCURRILOUS RUMOURS AND SEEKS TO REPAIR HIS GOOD NAME~
As a great poet of Silverymoon once said, “Cold is the hearth where no cat dwelleth.” This verse came to me most onerously when I nodded good morning to the day manager of the Flourished Hook, only to be met with the frostiest of glares. It was as if, through the machinations of this bureaucratic underling, the Lenoirs themselves wished for life to imitate art, and by evicting me from the establishment, to consign it to a cold, mournful future sans Lucky.
My whiskers twitched guiltily. Yesterday had been… unfortunate. I got into a fight in one of the finer living suites, chased an undead creature through the saloon of the Flourished Hook – with Albede the Water Genasi casting ice magic, and Glade the wolf in hot pursuit, and with my sword drawn. It had not been top of my list of ways to become the topic du jour.
I had upset tables on the way, shoving some slower-moving patrons aside in my haste. At least I had properly compensated them this morning with deliveries of flowers, each with a bottle of the finest vintage from the Hook’s cellar. Calculus had wisely seen to it. Furthermore, I had handwritten my deepest regrets to each of them and invited them for supper in the near future. Never let it be said that this Tabaxi passes up an opportunity to make a new friend, out of even the most inauspicious of beginnings.
But occasionally, a person gets it into their head that despite your charm, your grace, and your status – frankly, sometimes because of your status – they feel just cause to resent your good fortune. And those people, I’m afraid, are nearly always dog people. Call it confirmation bias, but in my experience, it is cat people who are the true connoisseurs of luxury.
And so, as I descended from the mezzanine to the main foyer of the Flourished Hook this morning, amidst the various coy, wry, and prurient glances of guests seeking to attract my attention, I spotted the manager glowering at me with the most antifeudal of faces. A dog person to the core.
I heard a voice from behind me. “It would appear I may have to bring further diplomacy to bear, sir.”
I glanced to my right, to see Calculus unexpectedly walking up beside me, powdered and pomaded hair, dressed in dark-blue velvet. The Half-Orc’s ability to know when he was needed was forever remarkable to me.
“Evidently,” I replied. “I don’t suppose it matters that I helped save the life of one of the Lenoirs’ favourite patrons.”
“Apparently not, sir. In any case, it would appear that said patron, the Halfing merchant Selmi Goldenfields, is a guest of this inn no longer. I understand that he has this morning checked out and departed.”
“Well, Selmi brought about his own undoing. Regardless, whatever that sour-faced manager’s needs are, see to it that they are adequately met and all that.”
“Sir, based on previous… discussions, it has come to my understanding that the gentleman in question is already well paid by the Lenoir brothers, and has no need of apologies or gifts. However, he may respond favourably simply to a guarantee of peace and quiet in the establishment.”
“Hah. I never make a promise I cannot keep, Calculus.”
“Indeed, sir.”
“Perhaps I should spend a few weeks getting acquainted with the scene in Daring Heights; let him cool off.”
“A most excellent suggestion, sir. I sent word earlier to The Gilded Mirror, which is the grandest and most luxurious establishment in the city. They are expecting your arrival tomorrow. I shall pack forthwith.”
“Good man.” My tail flicked appreciatively. Calculus was a genius at this sort of thing. He had a way of coming up with something clever and then making me feel like I had thought of it myself. I don’t know how he did it, but his ability to anticipate the vicissitudes of circumstance never ceased to amaze me.
2 ~WHEREIN LUCKY ENDEAVOURS TO TRAIN HIS HAPLESS SQUIRE BY THE ACCURATE RECOUNTING OF A RECENT MISSION~
I stepped outside to the vibrant winding streets of New Town, in the centre of Port Ffirst. Shops were abuzz with life, and merchants passing to and fro, their carts rattling merrily on the cobblestones. The sky was laden with dark, metallic clouds galloping across the sky. They were heavy and spirited, but Calculus had informed me that the grey would soon pass and the sun would shine through.
Tamarkh was standing across the street, dressed in practical linen daywear and a studded leather jerkin, with a simple training longsword at the hip. They were clutching my greatsword in their arms, looking awkwardly about. Although barely out of their teens, the Elf already matched me in height, though not in grace: as I marched over to the youngster, they promptly caught sight of me, flinched, and fumbled my sword, which clattered to the floor with a crash.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” Tamarkh cried as they scrambled to retrieve my sword and inspect the scabbard in a panic. “I… I’ll clean it up again.”
My ear twitched with amusement. “Don’t worry about that, Tam. I’m certain you’ve done a sterling job already.” They handed me my sword and I promptly slid it into my back holster without a second look. “And Tam, I don’t need you to say sorry for dropping something.” I smiled, making them blush. Then I fixed Tamarkh with a serious frown. “Unless it’s got wine in it.”
Tamarkh nodded sheepishly, understanding that I was being humorous but not confident enough to laugh along. My heart broke for them. So awkward and lacking in assertiveness – and despite my greatest efforts, a long way from basic weapon competence. I longed to sweep them up in a fatherly hug but I knew it would be just as disconcerting.
I gestured to the street and for Tamarkh to follow me. “Anyway, training’s going to be different this morning. We’re going on a field trip! I think it’s high time we discussed some battle strategy. Situational awareness. It’s as vital as any footwork. I’m going to take you through a real incident and see what you’d do in the situation.”
“An incident?” Tamarkh pursed their lips. “Is this anything to do with the scandal you were embroiled in yesterday?”
I chuckled heartily at the shrewd – yet indiscreet – observation. “Scandal? My dear Tam, first question of the day: who gains most from the telling of a juicy tale, and who loses most?”
Tamarkh bit their lip as they pondered.
“You think about that for another time. On with today’s lesson! I was hired yesterday to protect a wealthy merchant who had also taken residence at the Flourished Hook. There was a team of us. Take note of their descriptions – the details are relevant: My recent friend Glade, the Earth Genasi priest of nature, or some such – I’ve mentioned her before. Vythe, a Kobold archer clad in leathers, a rapier at his side. Albede, a pale blue Water Genasi, glistening with ice magic, earnest but innocent. Leonida, an ashen-skinned Tiefling, lean and determined, armed with a bladed knuckleduster. Got them?”
“Yes, sir,” Tamarkh said, with a furrowed brow.
“The client was a Halfling gentleman by the name of Selmi Goldenfields. Not a warrior himself, but apparently rich enough to hire plenty of them. Made his wealth in the textile business. When we approached his room, we discovered he already had two bodyguards at the door – a tough-looking Dwarf and Half-Orc. What does that tell you?”
Tamarkh thought about it and counted the facts out on their fingers. “He already had guards. But two wasn’t enough. His enemy meant business. Or at least, he believed so. Perhaps he’d seen evidence of the threat. Perhaps even had previous attempts on his life and realized that two guards were not enough.”
I nodded with satisfaction at the thorough answer. Dear Tamarkh had no sword skills to speak of, but a good brain in their head, that was certain. “Precisely. He confirmed all of the above, and he was extremely stressed about it. He hadn’t slept in a week. He offered us 30gp to protect him overnight, but such was his anxious state, it was easy for Leonida – frankly, an intimidating warrior – to nudge his offer up to 50gp.” I ran a claw absently through the fur on my chin. “Tell me, Tamarkh. Is that a reasonable amount for a night’s work?”
“Is this part of the lesson, sir?” Tamarkh frowned.
“Actually no. Just academic interest.”
Tamarkh studied me, a thousand thoughts crossing their face. They swallowed. “It’s… a lot of money. More than most people make in a year.”
“Huh.” I stroked my whiskers, contemplating this new knowledge. But this didn’t make sense to me. Recently, I’d earned sums like that in a few hours of work, yet I’d detected an air of disappointment from Calculus regarding my earnings. How money worked was mysterious as the workings of magic to me. Thank goodness I had him to take care of all that for me.
I brushed the topic aside for another day and gestured to a large, high window overlooking the street. “We were based in that room up there. Tell me, Tamarkh: if you were holed up in a room there, what would your defensive strategy be?”
Tamarkh looked carefully around, assessing the street and our surroundings. “Window’s too high to climb in or out of. The door’s the only reliable entrance. A single entrance is both a strength and a weakness. Furthermore, there’s no safe way down from there for a civilian, should the room be compromised.”
I nodded encouragingly. “So?”
“I’d keep the guards at their posts, bolster the door protection, and have someone sharp-eyed watching the window like a hawk. Mmm – perhaps the archer. Vythe.”
“Good answer. That’s exactly what Vythe was doing. Great situational awareness, that chap. He spotted a suspicious figure out here, and gave us the heads-up that we had company. And Leonida, I might add, was all too ready for action. The assailant was upon us.”
“And then it entered the building here. And struck?” Tamarkh peered judiciously up and down the street and through the main doors of the Hook, as if getting into the mind of the enemy.
“Indeed. We heard a crash and screaming as it slew the guards outside the room, and then into the room our adversary burst. No mere Human; but a large, tough, grey-skinned figure of indeterminate heritage, with blazing eyes and a foul rotten stench. It had incredible strength and fortitude. Albede hit it with frost magic, Vythe by arrow, Glade became a wolf and Leonida transformed into some kind of astral creature. It seemed to shrug off every attack we threw at it and shoved us aside as it charged for Selmi. Fortunately, he leapt out of its grasp. Unfortunately, in doing so, he fell from the window. Fortunately, he landed safely in a haycart below us, which took off in that direction.” I gestured up the street.
“That seems extremely fortuitous. He could have injured himself.”
“It was by pure grace that he survived the fall unharmed. And rather than dispatching the rest of us, the creature turned tail and charged back down the corridor, over the balcony, and through the main saloon downstairs. Albede, Glade and I gave chase, while Vythe and Leonida leapt from the window to catch up with Selmi.”
“Ah, so that explains the gossip I’ve heard about people being thrown from windows, frost monsters and werewolves, and you smashing the Flourished Hook up yesterday afternoon?”
I laughed uproariously. “Oh dear me, the serving folk here are such tattle-tails, are they not! Well, let’s cast your gullibility aside for a moment. Hazard a guess, Tam. What was it? This creature?”
“Um. Sounds undead. And very strong. A vampire?”
I squinted encouragingly. “Good guess but not quite. This was the afternoon, Tam. Broad daylight…”
“Hmm. A zombie?”
“Hah. I rather think we’d have made short work of a single zombie, Tam.”
Tamarkh shrugged cluelessly. “Those are the only undead things I can think of at the moment.”
I rolled my eyes and tutted. “Surely you’re familiar with de Roque’s writings on the revenant… no? Or the poem Le Harceleur Gris…? Or Brightling’s Lectures on the Undead?” Tamarkh’s face was blank to all of these. Why did the youth read so little these days? I sighed for the future of this world. “This was a revenant. An entity borne of a dying person’s unstoppable thirst for revenge. Know what a revenant is, Tam?”
“I… I think so.” I watched Tamarkh’s face-journey of trying to convince me. I gave them a determined look until they resigned to the accurate – and honest – answer. “No. No, sir, I don’t know.”
“Better.” I grinned fiercely. “Well, looks like that’ll be some fun reading for you this week’s end.”
Tamarkh sighed dramatically which only increased my mirth. Those were all extraordinary pieces of literature, and great literature had brought me many an hour of joy in the quiet times, during my old soldiering days. I could already imagine the surprised joy when Tam would come to realize this.
“Suffice it to say, Tam, that there’s one thing you need to know about revenants. If you destroy the body, their lust for revenge will transfer their soul into the nearest available body, whereupon they will claw themselves out of another grave and hunt you down, once again. They do not feel pain, or fear, and will keep on coming…”
Tamarkh stared at me wide-eyed. I savoured the dramatic pause, before gesturing down the street.
“Follow me, Tam. We’re heading to our next destination. The scene where we eventually dispatched this revenant. “By chance, the creature had temporarily lost track of Selmi, so we caught up with him in the haycart and interrogated him about the nature of this revenge-thirst. It got quite tense. The group were just about ready to accuse him of murdering whomever it was who became the revenant. He insisted he had done nothing illegal, but it was just a disgruntled former associate. ‘The textile business is very cutthroat,’ he assured us. Yet this was clearly a very disgruntled former associate who had met an extremely untimely end.”
Tamarkh followed me in silence for a while, before saying, “It sounds like Selmi was a disreputable man. Why did you not just walk away from the job, sir?”
“You pose a very interesting question, Tam. Indeed, some of our group did nearly resign there and then.” I stared up at the cloudy sky and thought back to an old mission. “Sometimes, you will find yourself working for very unsavoury people. It is incumbent upon you to do your due diligence before taking on a job. Much as it leaves a sour taste in the mouth to work for a person without honour, it is even more galling to ever have to break your word.”
We walked down Lenoir Street and found a cul-de-sac off the main road. The site of our final showdown with the revenant. The alley stank of urine and stale beer and was littered with discarded market vegetables, broken barrels, planks and half a broken-down cart.
I caught sight of a handsome Goliath woman leaning in the doorway of an ironsmithery across the street. Finely dressed in expensive furs, though with a warrior’s sleeveless top, incredibly chiselled arms, and beautifully tattooed bronze skin, with a short black ponytail tied high up at the back. She glanced at me once, twice, then nodded with recognition. I recalled seeing her watching me in the saloon of the Hook earlier on. I nodded to her, uncertain what her attention meant.
Tamarkh broke into my thoughts with a question. “Sir, how exactly does one stop a revenant, then?”
I grinned and brought myself back to the lesson. “Fortunately, thanks to some rule of the cosmos that no scholar has managed to explain yet, a revenant can only find new bodies for a year after their original death. Selmi reassured us that the year would have been up last night. Which meant that if we could destroy the body, the tormented soul would move on to whichever place it needed to go, and Selmi would be safe.”
I cast the Goliath out of my head and gestured to the cul-de-sac. “So. This is where we took a stand. My question to you is this: how you would arrange your team here to defeat the revenant, and prevent it getting to Selmi?”
Tamarkh thought through it for a while, walking up and down the alley, assessing the space. Then, gesturing to various barrels, crates and other debris, they described a detailed strategy. “I’d hide Selmi in a barrel, as long as it’s clean and empty. Then form a barricade at the entrance to the street. Put Albede and Vythe further back to make use of their ranged attacks and you, Glade and Leonida at the gap in the barricade, to block the revenant’s path, and possibly restrain it.”
Impressed, I slapped Tamarkh on the back. “We did indeed shove Selmi most unceremoniously into a barrel – not without some satisfaction, I might add. And it was one of the filthy ones! Never worry about anyone getting messy in a fight, Tam,” I chortled.
From the corner of my eye, I could see the Goliath watching us curiously as I continued talking Tamarkh through the scene. The old instincts began firing away. I kept my awareness on the sword on my back, and checked that my shirt was tucked in, so as not to impede my movement. Then I continued.
“For good measure, we stacked other junk upon his barrel and concealed him at the very end of the alley. Our barricade was here and here.” I pointed at the strewn remnants of crates and carts that had now been shoved to the side. “Then it was a matter of time before the revenant appeared again, and a scrappy affair of grappling, restraining, and hacking away at the thing until it stopped moving. Glade summoned some kind of bear spirit that effectively held the revenant in place. Albede’s magic was a powerful bolt of draining energy. Vythe was darting all over the place, with arrows, ropes and a rapier. Leonida’s bloodthirst came to the surface, as she took great relish in stabbing the creature and punching it into oblivion. It took a while, and it was not the tidiest of battles. We were all a filthy mess by the end of the fight.”
“I know, sir – I cleaned your sword this morning.”
It was then I saw the Goliath woman approach us at the entrance of the alley. She folded her arms and cleared her throat. “You’re one who bust up the Flourished Hook saloon yesterday. The Lenoirs aren’t happy, is what I heard.”
My tail twitched apprehensively, and I felt my old muscles readying themselves for action again. I braced myself to shove Tamarkh to safety behind me, prepared to draw my sword.
3 ~PERCHANCE OUR HERO IS REWARDED BY A NEW ACQUAINTANCE ON ACCOUNT OF HIS GOOD LOOKS, EXTRAORDINARY ACCOMPLISHMENTS AND HIS FAVOURABLE REPUTATION~
Calculus was right about the weather: the sun broke through the clouds and bathed the street. At the same time, the Goliath spoke again. Her voice was a husky duet of whisky and honey. “And you’re the warrior who dispatched that creature here yesterday. I saw you in action.”
I saw Tamarkh smirk, and I flicked my tail at them, irritated. “I was but one of a number, my lady.”
“Pssh, no need to be modest,” she purred. “As for the Hook, I saw a tall, stuffy-looking Half-Orc chap smoothing it over with the manager just now. Your man, I gather? Seemed to be good at his job.”
“Calculus is the very best.”
“Anyway, to be honest, that place needs more excitement in the midweek.”
I grinned appreciatively. “Clearly a woman after my own heart.”
“You still staying there?” she asked me, blinking with beautiful long lashes and a deliberate nonchalance.
“One night more. Then I shall be taking my squire to Daring Heights.”
“Ah. Well: Cold is the hearth…” she said, her eyes twinkling. My heart started pounding hard. She had a pretty smile and a fierce warmth about her. Above all else, I liked the strength in her forearms and the raw power of her physique. There were many things she could do with that strength. My imagination was running riot.
I exhaled. Without looking away from her, I said, “Tamarkh, I think that’s enough for the day. Now go pack for Daring Heights. Calculus will get you up to speed. Then read up those books I told you. Or… go take the afternoon off or something.”
“But sir,” Tamarkh replied, and levelled a mischievous glint at me. “You said you’d be testing me on–”
“I said now, Tamarkh.” I gave the Elf a mock-angry glare.
The woman chuckled and as she crossed her muscular arms, her ponytail bounced. It sent a shudder through me, and I flexed my claws instinctively. We watched as Tamarkh turned and hurried down the street, stopping to look back one last time and shoot us the most insolent, salacious of grins, before disappearing into the market square.
“I’m Tilde, by the way.” Her head tilted to the side coyly as she extended her hand.
I took it and kissed it and inhaled a heady perfume of cinnamon and musk. Her cheeks flushed. Then I gave her my name. Upon hearing it, she laughed playfully.
“Yes,” I told her with a broad grin. “I get that a lot.”
1 ~IN WHICH A KNIGHT SUFFERS THE INCONVENIENCE OF SCURRILOUS RUMOURS AND SEEKS TO REPAIR HIS GOOD NAME~
As a great poet of Silverymoon once said, “Cold is the hearth where no cat dwelleth.” This verse came to me most onerously when I nodded good morning to the day manager of the Flourished Hook, only to be met with the frostiest of glares. It was as if, through the machinations of this bureaucratic underling, the Lenoirs themselves wished for life to imitate art, and by evicting me from the establishment, to consign it to a cold, mournful future sans Lucky.
My whiskers twitched guiltily. Yesterday had been… unfortunate. I got into a fight in one of the finer living suites, chased an undead creature through the saloon of the Flourished Hook – with Albede the Water Genasi casting ice magic, and Glade the wolf in hot pursuit, and with my sword drawn. It had not been top of my list of ways to become the topic du jour.
I had upset tables on the way, shoving some slower-moving patrons aside in my haste. At least I had properly compensated them this morning with deliveries of flowers, each with a bottle of the finest vintage from the Hook’s cellar. Calculus had wisely seen to it. Furthermore, I had handwritten my deepest regrets to each of them and invited them for supper in the near future. Never let it be said that this Tabaxi passes up an opportunity to make a new friend, out of even the most inauspicious of beginnings.
But occasionally, a person gets it into their head that despite your charm, your grace, and your status – frankly, sometimes because of your status – they feel just cause to resent your good fortune. And those people, I’m afraid, are nearly always dog people. Call it confirmation bias, but in my experience, it is cat people who are the true connoisseurs of luxury.
And so, as I descended from the mezzanine to the main foyer of the Flourished Hook this morning, amidst the various coy, wry, and prurient glances of guests seeking to attract my attention, I spotted the manager glowering at me with the most antifeudal of faces. A dog person to the core.
I heard a voice from behind me. “It would appear I may have to bring further diplomacy to bear, sir.”
I glanced to my right, to see Calculus unexpectedly walking up beside me, powdered and pomaded hair, dressed in dark-blue velvet. The Half-Orc’s ability to know when he was needed was forever remarkable to me.
“Evidently,” I replied. “I don’t suppose it matters that I helped save the life of one of the Lenoirs’ favourite patrons.”
“Apparently not, sir. In any case, it would appear that said patron, the Halfing merchant Selmi Goldenfields, is a guest of this inn no longer. I understand that he has this morning checked out and departed.”
“Well, Selmi brought about his own undoing. Regardless, whatever that sour-faced manager’s needs are, see to it that they are adequately met and all that.”
“Sir, based on previous… discussions, it has come to my understanding that the gentleman in question is already well paid by the Lenoir brothers, and has no need of apologies or gifts. However, he may respond favourably simply to a guarantee of peace and quiet in the establishment.”
“Hah. I never make a promise I cannot keep, Calculus.”
“Indeed, sir.”
“Perhaps I should spend a few weeks getting acquainted with the scene in Daring Heights; let him cool off.”
“A most excellent suggestion, sir. I sent word earlier to The Gilded Mirror, which is the grandest and most luxurious establishment in the city. They are expecting your arrival tomorrow. I shall pack forthwith.”
“Good man.” My tail flicked appreciatively. Calculus was a genius at this sort of thing. He had a way of coming up with something clever and then making me feel like I had thought of it myself. I don’t know how he did it, but his ability to anticipate the vicissitudes of circumstance never ceased to amaze me.
2 ~WHEREIN LUCKY ENDEAVOURS TO TRAIN HIS HAPLESS SQUIRE BY THE ACCURATE RECOUNTING OF A RECENT MISSION~
I stepped outside to the vibrant winding streets of New Town, in the centre of Port Ffirst. Shops were abuzz with life, and merchants passing to and fro, their carts rattling merrily on the cobblestones. The sky was laden with dark, metallic clouds galloping across the sky. They were heavy and spirited, but Calculus had informed me that the grey would soon pass and the sun would shine through.
Tamarkh was standing across the street, dressed in practical linen daywear and a studded leather jerkin, with a simple training longsword at the hip. They were clutching my greatsword in their arms, looking awkwardly about. Although barely out of their teens, the Elf already matched me in height, though not in grace: as I marched over to the youngster, they promptly caught sight of me, flinched, and fumbled my sword, which clattered to the floor with a crash.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” Tamarkh cried as they scrambled to retrieve my sword and inspect the scabbard in a panic. “I… I’ll clean it up again.”
My ear twitched with amusement. “Don’t worry about that, Tam. I’m certain you’ve done a sterling job already.” They handed me my sword and I promptly slid it into my back holster without a second look. “And Tam, I don’t need you to say sorry for dropping something.” I smiled, making them blush. Then I fixed Tamarkh with a serious frown. “Unless it’s got wine in it.”
Tamarkh nodded sheepishly, understanding that I was being humorous but not confident enough to laugh along. My heart broke for them. So awkward and lacking in assertiveness – and despite my greatest efforts, a long way from basic weapon competence. I longed to sweep them up in a fatherly hug but I knew it would be just as disconcerting.
I gestured to the street and for Tamarkh to follow me. “Anyway, training’s going to be different this morning. We’re going on a field trip! I think it’s high time we discussed some battle strategy. Situational awareness. It’s as vital as any footwork. I’m going to take you through a real incident and see what you’d do in the situation.”
“An incident?” Tamarkh pursed their lips. “Is this anything to do with the scandal you were embroiled in yesterday?”
I chuckled heartily at the shrewd – yet indiscreet – observation. “Scandal? My dear Tam, first question of the day: who gains most from the telling of a juicy tale, and who loses most?”
Tamarkh bit their lip as they pondered.
“You think about that for another time. On with today’s lesson! I was hired yesterday to protect a wealthy merchant who had also taken residence at the Flourished Hook. There was a team of us. Take note of their descriptions – the details are relevant: My recent friend Glade, the Earth Genasi priest of nature, or some such – I’ve mentioned her before. Vythe, a Kobold archer clad in leathers, a rapier at his side. Albede, a pale blue Water Genasi, glistening with ice magic, earnest but innocent. Leonida, an ashen-skinned Tiefling, lean and determined, armed with a bladed knuckleduster. Got them?”
“Yes, sir,” Tamarkh said, with a furrowed brow.
“The client was a Halfling gentleman by the name of Selmi Goldenfields. Not a warrior himself, but apparently rich enough to hire plenty of them. Made his wealth in the textile business. When we approached his room, we discovered he already had two bodyguards at the door – a tough-looking Dwarf and Half-Orc. What does that tell you?”
Tamarkh thought about it and counted the facts out on their fingers. “He already had guards. But two wasn’t enough. His enemy meant business. Or at least, he believed so. Perhaps he’d seen evidence of the threat. Perhaps even had previous attempts on his life and realized that two guards were not enough.”
I nodded with satisfaction at the thorough answer. Dear Tamarkh had no sword skills to speak of, but a good brain in their head, that was certain. “Precisely. He confirmed all of the above, and he was extremely stressed about it. He hadn’t slept in a week. He offered us 30gp to protect him overnight, but such was his anxious state, it was easy for Leonida – frankly, an intimidating warrior – to nudge his offer up to 50gp.” I ran a claw absently through the fur on my chin. “Tell me, Tamarkh. Is that a reasonable amount for a night’s work?”
“Is this part of the lesson, sir?” Tamarkh frowned.
“Actually no. Just academic interest.”
Tamarkh studied me, a thousand thoughts crossing their face. They swallowed. “It’s… a lot of money. More than most people make in a year.”
“Huh.” I stroked my whiskers, contemplating this new knowledge. But this didn’t make sense to me. Recently, I’d earned sums like that in a few hours of work, yet I’d detected an air of disappointment from Calculus regarding my earnings. How money worked was mysterious as the workings of magic to me. Thank goodness I had him to take care of all that for me.
I brushed the topic aside for another day and gestured to a large, high window overlooking the street. “We were based in that room up there. Tell me, Tamarkh: if you were holed up in a room there, what would your defensive strategy be?”
Tamarkh looked carefully around, assessing the street and our surroundings. “Window’s too high to climb in or out of. The door’s the only reliable entrance. A single entrance is both a strength and a weakness. Furthermore, there’s no safe way down from there for a civilian, should the room be compromised.”
I nodded encouragingly. “So?”
“I’d keep the guards at their posts, bolster the door protection, and have someone sharp-eyed watching the window like a hawk. Mmm – perhaps the archer. Vythe.”
“Good answer. That’s exactly what Vythe was doing. Great situational awareness, that chap. He spotted a suspicious figure out here, and gave us the heads-up that we had company. And Leonida, I might add, was all too ready for action. The assailant was upon us.”
“And then it entered the building here. And struck?” Tamarkh peered judiciously up and down the street and through the main doors of the Hook, as if getting into the mind of the enemy.
“Indeed. We heard a crash and screaming as it slew the guards outside the room, and then into the room our adversary burst. No mere Human; but a large, tough, grey-skinned figure of indeterminate heritage, with blazing eyes and a foul rotten stench. It had incredible strength and fortitude. Albede hit it with frost magic, Vythe by arrow, Glade became a wolf and Leonida transformed into some kind of astral creature. It seemed to shrug off every attack we threw at it and shoved us aside as it charged for Selmi. Fortunately, he leapt out of its grasp. Unfortunately, in doing so, he fell from the window. Fortunately, he landed safely in a haycart below us, which took off in that direction.” I gestured up the street.
“That seems extremely fortuitous. He could have injured himself.”
“It was by pure grace that he survived the fall unharmed. And rather than dispatching the rest of us, the creature turned tail and charged back down the corridor, over the balcony, and through the main saloon downstairs. Albede, Glade and I gave chase, while Vythe and Leonida leapt from the window to catch up with Selmi.”
“Ah, so that explains the gossip I’ve heard about people being thrown from windows, frost monsters and werewolves, and you smashing the Flourished Hook up yesterday afternoon?”
I laughed uproariously. “Oh dear me, the serving folk here are such tattle-tails, are they not! Well, let’s cast your gullibility aside for a moment. Hazard a guess, Tam. What was it? This creature?”
“Um. Sounds undead. And very strong. A vampire?”
I squinted encouragingly. “Good guess but not quite. This was the afternoon, Tam. Broad daylight…”
“Hmm. A zombie?”
“Hah. I rather think we’d have made short work of a single zombie, Tam.”
Tamarkh shrugged cluelessly. “Those are the only undead things I can think of at the moment.”
I rolled my eyes and tutted. “Surely you’re familiar with de Roque’s writings on the revenant… no? Or the poem Le Harceleur Gris…? Or Brightling’s Lectures on the Undead?” Tamarkh’s face was blank to all of these. Why did the youth read so little these days? I sighed for the future of this world. “This was a revenant. An entity borne of a dying person’s unstoppable thirst for revenge. Know what a revenant is, Tam?”
“I… I think so.” I watched Tamarkh’s face-journey of trying to convince me. I gave them a determined look until they resigned to the accurate – and honest – answer. “No. No, sir, I don’t know.”
“Better.” I grinned fiercely. “Well, looks like that’ll be some fun reading for you this week’s end.”
Tamarkh sighed dramatically which only increased my mirth. Those were all extraordinary pieces of literature, and great literature had brought me many an hour of joy in the quiet times, during my old soldiering days. I could already imagine the surprised joy when Tam would come to realize this.
“Suffice it to say, Tam, that there’s one thing you need to know about revenants. If you destroy the body, their lust for revenge will transfer their soul into the nearest available body, whereupon they will claw themselves out of another grave and hunt you down, once again. They do not feel pain, or fear, and will keep on coming…”
Tamarkh stared at me wide-eyed. I savoured the dramatic pause, before gesturing down the street.
“Follow me, Tam. We’re heading to our next destination. The scene where we eventually dispatched this revenant. “By chance, the creature had temporarily lost track of Selmi, so we caught up with him in the haycart and interrogated him about the nature of this revenge-thirst. It got quite tense. The group were just about ready to accuse him of murdering whomever it was who became the revenant. He insisted he had done nothing illegal, but it was just a disgruntled former associate. ‘The textile business is very cutthroat,’ he assured us. Yet this was clearly a very disgruntled former associate who had met an extremely untimely end.”
Tamarkh followed me in silence for a while, before saying, “It sounds like Selmi was a disreputable man. Why did you not just walk away from the job, sir?”
“You pose a very interesting question, Tam. Indeed, some of our group did nearly resign there and then.” I stared up at the cloudy sky and thought back to an old mission. “Sometimes, you will find yourself working for very unsavoury people. It is incumbent upon you to do your due diligence before taking on a job. Much as it leaves a sour taste in the mouth to work for a person without honour, it is even more galling to ever have to break your word.”
We walked down Lenoir Street and found a cul-de-sac off the main road. The site of our final showdown with the revenant. The alley stank of urine and stale beer and was littered with discarded market vegetables, broken barrels, planks and half a broken-down cart.
I caught sight of a handsome Goliath woman leaning in the doorway of an ironsmithery across the street. Finely dressed in expensive furs, though with a warrior’s sleeveless top, incredibly chiselled arms, and beautifully tattooed bronze skin, with a short black ponytail tied high up at the back. She glanced at me once, twice, then nodded with recognition. I recalled seeing her watching me in the saloon of the Hook earlier on. I nodded to her, uncertain what her attention meant.
Tamarkh broke into my thoughts with a question. “Sir, how exactly does one stop a revenant, then?”
I grinned and brought myself back to the lesson. “Fortunately, thanks to some rule of the cosmos that no scholar has managed to explain yet, a revenant can only find new bodies for a year after their original death. Selmi reassured us that the year would have been up last night. Which meant that if we could destroy the body, the tormented soul would move on to whichever place it needed to go, and Selmi would be safe.”
I cast the Goliath out of my head and gestured to the cul-de-sac. “So. This is where we took a stand. My question to you is this: how you would arrange your team here to defeat the revenant, and prevent it getting to Selmi?”
Tamarkh thought through it for a while, walking up and down the alley, assessing the space. Then, gesturing to various barrels, crates and other debris, they described a detailed strategy. “I’d hide Selmi in a barrel, as long as it’s clean and empty. Then form a barricade at the entrance to the street. Put Albede and Vythe further back to make use of their ranged attacks and you, Glade and Leonida at the gap in the barricade, to block the revenant’s path, and possibly restrain it.”
Impressed, I slapped Tamarkh on the back. “We did indeed shove Selmi most unceremoniously into a barrel – not without some satisfaction, I might add. And it was one of the filthy ones! Never worry about anyone getting messy in a fight, Tam,” I chortled.
From the corner of my eye, I could see the Goliath watching us curiously as I continued talking Tamarkh through the scene. The old instincts began firing away. I kept my awareness on the sword on my back, and checked that my shirt was tucked in, so as not to impede my movement. Then I continued.
“For good measure, we stacked other junk upon his barrel and concealed him at the very end of the alley. Our barricade was here and here.” I pointed at the strewn remnants of crates and carts that had now been shoved to the side. “Then it was a matter of time before the revenant appeared again, and a scrappy affair of grappling, restraining, and hacking away at the thing until it stopped moving. Glade summoned some kind of bear spirit that effectively held the revenant in place. Albede’s magic was a powerful bolt of draining energy. Vythe was darting all over the place, with arrows, ropes and a rapier. Leonida’s bloodthirst came to the surface, as she took great relish in stabbing the creature and punching it into oblivion. It took a while, and it was not the tidiest of battles. We were all a filthy mess by the end of the fight.”
“I know, sir – I cleaned your sword this morning.”
It was then I saw the Goliath woman approach us at the entrance of the alley. She folded her arms and cleared her throat. “You’re one who bust up the Flourished Hook saloon yesterday. The Lenoirs aren’t happy, is what I heard.”
My tail twitched apprehensively, and I felt my old muscles readying themselves for action again. I braced myself to shove Tamarkh to safety behind me, prepared to draw my sword.
3 ~PERCHANCE OUR HERO IS REWARDED BY A NEW ACQUAINTANCE ON ACCOUNT OF HIS GOOD LOOKS, EXTRAORDINARY ACCOMPLISHMENTS AND HIS FAVOURABLE REPUTATION~
Calculus was right about the weather: the sun broke through the clouds and bathed the street. At the same time, the Goliath spoke again. Her voice was a husky duet of whisky and honey. “And you’re the warrior who dispatched that creature here yesterday. I saw you in action.”
I saw Tamarkh smirk, and I flicked my tail at them, irritated. “I was but one of a number, my lady.”
“Pssh, no need to be modest,” she purred. “As for the Hook, I saw a tall, stuffy-looking Half-Orc chap smoothing it over with the manager just now. Your man, I gather? Seemed to be good at his job.”
“Calculus is the very best.”
“Anyway, to be honest, that place needs more excitement in the midweek.”
I grinned appreciatively. “Clearly a woman after my own heart.”
“You still staying there?” she asked me, blinking with beautiful long lashes and a deliberate nonchalance.
“One night more. Then I shall be taking my squire to Daring Heights.”
“Ah. Well: Cold is the hearth…” she said, her eyes twinkling. My heart started pounding hard. She had a pretty smile and a fierce warmth about her. Above all else, I liked the strength in her forearms and the raw power of her physique. There were many things she could do with that strength. My imagination was running riot.
I exhaled. Without looking away from her, I said, “Tamarkh, I think that’s enough for the day. Now go pack for Daring Heights. Calculus will get you up to speed. Then read up those books I told you. Or… go take the afternoon off or something.”
“But sir,” Tamarkh replied, and levelled a mischievous glint at me. “You said you’d be testing me on–”
“I said now, Tamarkh.” I gave the Elf a mock-angry glare.
The woman chuckled and as she crossed her muscular arms, her ponytail bounced. It sent a shudder through me, and I flexed my claws instinctively. We watched as Tamarkh turned and hurried down the street, stopping to look back one last time and shoot us the most insolent, salacious of grins, before disappearing into the market square.
“I’m Tilde, by the way.” Her head tilted to the side coyly as she extended her hand.
I took it and kissed it and inhaled a heady perfume of cinnamon and musk. Her cheeks flushed. Then I gave her my name. Upon hearing it, she laughed playfully.
“Yes,” I told her with a broad grin. “I get that a lot.”
