Alazius's Story

As the living sea flowed and churned through the fairgrounds, one stall keeper kept to himself in a serene silence. He was a lean muscular man clad in a reinforced leather tunic and leggings. Thick leather boots protected his feet, which were propped up on a rock. The man sat silently in a chair as he casually smoked a wooden pipe held by a large burly hand. A thick dark beard covered most of his weather-worn face, while coal black hair cascaded down his jaw line. Dark brown eyes stared into oblivion, lost in thought. With his other hand, the man fondled a large Bowie knife that rested on his lap. Beside him leaning against the chair he sat in was a sheathed sword, a composite bow, and a quiver full of arrows. At his feet slept an enormous canine with fur black as night.

Surrounding the man were several racks filled with various animal skins. The empty eye sockets of foxes, deer, raccoons, wolves, and mountain lions stared at the passing crowds. Racks of smoked meats also surrounded him, intoxicating the air with their scent. Several jars filled with various herbs, dried leaves, roots, and dried fruits encircled him, along with a small sack of coins.

As he sat staring at the flowing sea of the crowds, the smells and sounds of the fair began to caress his senses. The dull roar of the crowd was like the sound of a distant storm about to release its burden onto the thirsty canopy below. Fresh mead and mutton cooked over an open fire. The scents filled his nostrils… Smoke. Flames. Burning flesh. A child screaming.

Anna…

Alazius watched with idle curiosity as the crowd began to congregate and surround the fresh corpse that tainted the ground. He pondered as he released another ring of smoke into the air. Death was the greatest mystery – a portal into the unknown – that all earthly creatures were bound to undertake. Man despised and feared the unknown, especially if it was forced to discover it. They were all doomed to make that journey – some sooner than others – from which they would never return… Except in rare cases.

Suddenly Liufr’s tail began to twitch violently as his ears perked and folded back. His hair turned sharp as sowing needles and his lips pealed back to reveal fierce yellow canines. A low growl escaped his throat and was quickly followed by a bark. Finally the tamed wolf looked up at his master and whimpered worryingly. Alazius nodded in response.

Alazius smelled the storm long before he heard or saw it. The voice of Kord thundered across the heavens, which echoed his battle cry throughout the land. A dark shadow slowly devoured the city as the image of the sun was veiled by the malicious clouds that approached sluggishly yet purposefully. He could now smell the fear resonating from the crowd as the dreaded maw of panic and terror consumed them. Panic meant death. Clarity meant life. Alazius learned that long ago. He dumped the remains of the leaves in his pipe on the ground, and smothered them with his boot.

With a calm haste Alazius collected his equipment. He sheathed his knife as he reached for his sword and quiver and swung them over his shoulder. Alazius quickly threw as much as he could into his pack before swinging that over his other shoulder, grabbing his bow, and taking off in a sprint toward the wall. His companion followed closely behind him.

The hunter sprinted like a deer, surpassing most of the crowd with ease while he stayed to the side of the raging mob for fear of being trampled. Clarity was what separated Man from Beast. Panic destroyed that clarity, thus creating a mob little better than a buffalo stampede. Suddenly Liufr released a bark, catching the attention of Alazius, and gestured toward a crippled heap that lay in the midst of the stampede.

Alazius immediately acted on instinct and began melding into the crowd, weaving towards the fallen man. Panicked runners thudded into him randomly, deflected by his superior stature, creating a small pocket of emptiness, like a stone dividing the current of a fierce river. Upon reaching the fallen man, Alazius grabbed him by the back of his robe, hoisted him up, threw his arm over his shoulder, and began dragging him to safety.

“On your feet,” Alazius grunted, “you are not going to die this day.”

The rain was now pouring, making that ground wet and slippery, but Alazius quickly made it the rest of the way to the wall with the man in tow. Water now soaked his wool and leather clothing, but they were now safe. Liufr shook himself dry nearby, and Alazius pulled out a dry pelt from his pack he managed to save and draped it over the man’s shoulders.

As soon as Alazius had ensured the safety of the doctor, he stood and surveyed his surroundings. Frightened men, women, and children sat clinging against the wall, their only refuge against the fury of the maelstrom. Rain and hail mercilessly descended upon the town and its people before a sudden hush enveloped the air.

Liufr whimpered.

Suddenly a massive gale assaulted the town. Carts and stands were sundered and tossed like toys by the vengeful wind. Alazius’s feet lurched into the air and his back replaced them. His lungs shuddered and froze in protest as the mighty gale extorted the air within. He willed them to relax, and they reluctantly obeyed. Slowly the ranger sat up. His dark hair whipped across his face, half blinding him. With his one good eye he discerned several guards precariously ascending the steps built into the wall. Through the endless wailing wind he could faintly hear them plea for aid.

Alazius attempted to pull himself up, constantly battling the raging maelstrom, and go to their aid. However, immediately as he brushed aside the hair that clung to his face, he saw the feeble form of a woman trapped beneath a toppled wagon a short distance from the safety of the wall. He looked again at the guards in the stair well, which was threatening to collapse, and then again at the woman. Alazius silently cursed himself and the cruelty of fate.

The preservation of life dominated his priorities. Two options presented themselves in Alazius’s mind. His first option was to go help the guards and send a few men at the wall to go help the woman. However, this would put the woman and those men he would send at risk, and he couldn’t bring himself to risk the sacrifice of their lives. The second option was to go help the woman and to send help for the guards. They could accomplish that task without him, and he could free the woman by himself – no – had to free her by himself. He could not risk anyone else.

“You, you, you, and you,” he gestured at four men that seemed to be relatively unscathed and spoke with an authoritative voice, “go help those guards in the stair well! They need to stabilize the structure and unjam the awning! Take those two-by-fours!” he gestured between the stair well and a pile of wood scrap stirred up by the storm.

“Liufr, come!” he said as he exited the safety of the wall without waiting for a reply.

Rain and hail pelted his back and arms as he pushed against the wind, keeping low to the ground. The large man practically crawled on all fours to the toppled wagon. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he gripped onto the sides of the vehicle. He would not let her die. Alazius sounded a call to arms throughout his body. Every muscle summoned the mass of their strength. The same strength he used to raise fallen timber. The same strength he used to carry a deer carcass for miles on end. That strength was now given voice and outlet. A bestial roar escaped his throat. The wagon began to move. As frame of the wagon slowly tilted away from the frame of the woman, Alazius’s roar became more fierce and coarse. Finally the weight of the wagon no longer entrapped the woman beneath the wrath of the relentless storm.

“Liufr!” Alazius called out while still holding the weight of the wagon.

The tamed wolf responded with a bark and approached the woman. He gripped the sleeve of her shirt with his powerful canines and began tugging. Slowly, the dog pulled the woman out from the shadow of the wagon. Upon her safety, Alazius released his grip and the wagon landed with a splintering crash. Sweat and rain soaked his clothing. His arms quivered. Veins pulsed across his body. Adrenaline still flowed. The task was not finished.

With haste Alazius turned around and picked the woman up in his arms and began the laborious trek back to the safety of the wall. Once returned to their sanctuary, his shaking arms attempted to set the woman gently against the wall. Finally, the man crumpled into an exhausted heap and began to slip into unconsciousness. His breath became ragged and coarse.

He prayed to The Five that the help he sent was enough.

Alazius’s world went black.

When Alazius awoke, the gentle rays of the sun caressed his cheek. The sound of a bird’s cheerful song filled his ear as his mind slowly stirred from its stupor. His fingers brushed against a soft fabric beneath him. A soft whimper emanated from beside him and was followed by a feeling like warm wet sandpaper sliding along his cheek. Alazius grimaced at the feeling before opening his eyes to reveal the image of his canine companion, Liufr.

“Liufr,” he groaned, “it’s good to see you, boy. Ughhh… How long have I been out?”

Alazius attempted to rise, but a stab of pain that coursed through his whole body forced him down. He winced before slowly easing himself down again. The ranger lifted a hand to his head and discovered it was wrapped tightly in bandages. Then suddenly, like the crash of a title wave, he remembered the events that had transpired the previous day, and his heart sank. So much death… So much destruction… but how much?

He gradually and slowly began to rise again, gritting his teeth at the pain that coursed through his body and head. When he reached a sitting position with his feet planted on the floor, he released a sigh of accomplishment. Alazius looked around the room. He seemed to have been placed in an inn that had survived the storm after he passed out. Sunlight poured through the window, revealing a clear blue sky.

“Oh good. You’re awake.”

Alazius looked to his left and saw the frail frame of an elderly woman standing in the doorway. She was dressed in simple brown commoner’s clothes. A brown bonnet covered her gray head. In her hands was a wooden tray with a brown wine skin, a wooden spoon, and a bowl (also wooden) of something that was steaming. The old woman hobbled toward the bed and set the tray on the sheets.

“Who are you? What happened?” Alazius groaned while rubbing his bandaged head.

“Oh, my name isn’t important.” she replied, “After the heroic stunt you pulled yesterday, you passed out from exhaustion. Once the storm eased up some men found you underneath some rubble and brought you here for medical attention. The doctor said you suffered a minor concussion and some strained muscles. You will probably be sore for a few days.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Alazius said while pulling the tray onto his lap, “tell me, the woman I saved… Is she alright?”

“Oh, you mean Emissary Lesha? Oh yes, I believe she’s alright. She was taken to Lord Mi’zral’s manor to be treated, and has been there in a private meeting all morning. Speaking of which, there is to be a town meeting later today. You could check on her then.”

“And what about…” he said as he took a sip of the substance in the bowl – gumbo, “Mmm, this is quite good… What about the men I sent to stabilize the stair well?”

“I’m afraid they didn’t make it in time.” She sighed. “Just as they were about halfway up the steps the structure collapsed. Five men were killed I am sad to say.”

Alazius’s heart immediately fell, “I should have been there,” he said as he set his spoon down, “I should have gone and help them.”

“Nonsense!” snapped the woman, “If you would have gone and helped them, you would be dead too! There was no way you could have prevented the collapse of those stairs! Son, we all have our appointment with Death. Some simply have them earlier than others. They cannot be canceled – only delayed. You should be proud of yourself, young man. There might not have been anyone else that could have saved that girl. She would be dead if it wasn’t for you.”

“I suppose you are right,” he sighed, “but there is always that chance. What if I could have saved them all?”

“Dwelling on the past will not get you anywhere. We can only accept what has happened and learn from it. If not, then that one question will haunt you for the rest of your life – ‘what if?’”

With that the old woman exited the room leaving the tray and the pondering Alazius. Perhaps she was right. Some things were not his fault. Some things he could not change. However, there were some things he could make right… After he finished the gumbo and wineskin, Alazius rose from the bed, collected his things, and exited the room. He walked with a slight limp in his leg.

Dúlin looked around at the remaining people in the Lord Mi’zral’s meeting hall. There was an elvish Lady who ran the gypsy caravan she was slightly injured from yesterday but otherwise fine. He looked at the Dwarf seated next to her. Dúlin wasn’t sure what he was but he was glad for the gift, a cloak that made him nearly invisible in the night. It was a … useful gift. Moving on he saw a gypsy girl she was normal almost to the extreme but she had strange eyes that would have unnerved him if he cared. Next to her was the hunter who had saved his life. He still owed the man and he would repay it if it killed him, he hated debts. Dúlin’s eyes passed over the Shadowlancer he didn’t like soldiers of any order they tended to hunt people like him.

He looked straight at Lord Mi’zral “My name is Dúlin and I have a question for you, you said the seer Hammon entrusted you with the secret of the eye? Well I have the eye in question” Dúlin said as he pulled the eye out of his pocket and held it to the light. “And I was given this by Seer Hammon as he died. He asked me to return it to the Order in Kryn.” Dúlin spoke as he pocketed the eye once again. “Since Lady Fey Goddess of fate has seen to it that the eye landed in my hands I will personally return it.” Looking to Lisha Corrhay and tilting his head he spoke “M’Lady since I need to return this eye and your headed to Kryn I will be joining you, if you’ll have me.”

Dúlin looked away from Lisha Corrhay and at the whole group gathered around him and waited for someone to speak.

As Alazius stood in the hall, he glanced at the other three people that also received gifts. He saw the doctor he aided the previous night receive the strange cloak. Light shimmered across the ebony fabric as he pondered what possible purpose he would have for such an artifact. Alazius noted the ill expressions that resonated from the noble’s eyes as Dulin accepted the cloak. The ranger decided to keep an eye on him.

Alazius examined the elven knight as Lady Elsah approached him. His black armor shone with a metallic hue while his eyes echoed a scarring tragedy that Alazius recognized all too well. When his blade vanished, Alazius raised his eyebrow in fascination. He had seen the use of magic a handful of times in his lifespan, both trivial and abundant. To him it was a tool that he lacked the knowledge to use – an accepted ignorance to himself – a tool that could be used for good… or for evil.

His grip on the shoulder strap of his pack tightened.

Finally the two nobles came to Alazius. Their superfluous and extravagant clothing stood in sharp contrast to the handmade leather and wool garments that sheltered him from the harsh elements for so many years. Liufr sat at his feet with his tail wrapped around his canine legs and glanced between the strangers and his master. Alazius silently reached down and scratched him behind the ears as they spoke.

“No thanks are necessary, sir,” said Alazius, inclining his head, “I simply did what I thought was the right thing – an obligation for us all. Besides, I could not have accomplished it without the aid of Liufr. He is the one who pulled you out from beneath the wagon, Ambassador. However, I will accept your gift, and will make sure these arrows are used only in the direst of circumstances.”

With that he accepted the box and removed one of the arrows. Alazius traced his finger across the shaft and head, examining the craftsmanship and material. After the examination he placed it in the case and then hooked the container beneath his arm.

The assassin gaining the gift of invisibility, the ranger tracking arrows, and the gypsy an ancient golden ornate box. These were unique gifts that the others have gained, and Keras had observed in silence throughout each passing. However, he had recognized the box that Lady Elsah had handed to the gypsy. Keras had seen her once before - she was the one who had a package in her arms during the storm.

He wasn't fond of the assassin gaining an invisibility cloak, due to the profession that he has taken. The profession to take lives, while Keras was trained to save. He hasn't seen the ranger until this very moment, and he was curious as to what he had done to gain such arrows. The shadowlancer didn't personally know the gypsy, even though they were from the same party, but he was still required to protect her, as per it was his honor and one of the charges placed upon him...

“Take out your greatsword Sir Nyspar.”

The sudden request from Lady Elsah had startled him somewhat, but not enough to make him to project such "emotion". Doing so, he obliged, handing Retribution to her. The blade was still dull and somewhat damaged from earlier events, though his armor shined brighter then ever. This was because he had yet to polish and sharpen the blade.

Keras observed as his Lady unclasped a green jewel from her neckless, pressing it into the blade's emerald. Suddenly, the jewel shattered within her palm, turning into dust, a smile appearing on her face.

“Drop the blade Keras. Don’t worry, just watch.”

He did so, letting his grip loosen from the weapon, the blade dropping blade first towards the ground. But before it touched the ground, it vanished. Replacing where the blade once was hovered a green mist, slowly floating in place, followed with Elsah's hand into his chest.

“Will it to return, and within 3 heartbeats it will be in your hand… you may be the first shadowlancer of your generation to bare such a weapon, use these new found methods wisely in battle.”

The mist floated up towards his hand, where the blade was before he had dropped it. It had taken a form of a blade similar to that of his runeblade, and condensed, Retribution appearing once more within his grasp.

Watching what had just transpired within the last thirty seconds, he said no words of gratitude, his silence was more than enough. Elsah had enchanted his blade, the enchantment known as mistform, an ancient Elven magic designed for keeping possession of personal items of great value.

As the crowd around them began to disperse, he gazed towards at the other three, however holding it slightly longer at the gypsy before turning away. She seemed familiar, yet unknown to him, but Keras had refused to let that bother him. They were asked to stay, but for what reason, Keras couldn't say. His plans would have to wait for now...

Alazius observed the Emissary as she spoke and regarded her request. There was something about the woman that seemed familiar – something that made him feel comfortable, yet uneasy. He felt a certain aura about her, a youthful beauty and childlike disposition hidden beneath a thin but rigid veil of diplomatic professionalism. Hers resembled a face he had seen before – a face burned into the recesses of his mind – cold and lifeless.

Immediately the ranger shunned the image from his mind and returned his focus back to Lesha’s request. After a short moment he nodded.

“Aye, milady,” he said, “the road is very dangerous, especially this time of year. Merciless bandits and hungry beasts prowl the roads in search of unsuspecting, unprepared, and defenseless prey. However, I am aware of a few routes where bandit ambushes are seldom encountered, but they will require traversing the wilderness somewhat. Fortunately I am well acquainted with the wilds. I would suggest wearing something suitable for traveling on foot and off-road.”

Keras was about to speak, having already thought about what words he would use, on how he is highly opposed to having an assassin having the eye in his position. He didn't trust, nor will trust the man, simply because he has hidden the fact this entire time. After all, what else could he be hiding behind that mask? The shadowlancer opened his mouth, words ready to roll off from his tongue, until he was interrupted by another of the gypsy's panicked questions.

"Oh! What about the rest of our party? Have you seen any other survivors?"

Turning towards her, Keras' mind now completely flipped to a new subject of thought. "Don't worry much, it's quite detrimental to your health. I'm sure the others are fine. My remaining shadowlancers should be taking care of them as we speak." Turning back towards the group, he had continued, "I have to oppose to the idea of having the plague doctor having the eye in his possession. He's hiding something from the rest of us, and I... just don't trust him. Artifact or not, something just doesn't feel quite right about him."

Leaning over to lady Elsah, he whispered into her ear, "M'Lady, I am very certain that the plague doctor, is the very assassin that I have warned you about earlier. If he's with our 'party', despite having helpful abilities, we have to be extremely careful with him around us."

Returning back to his proper position and posture, he remembered about his previous engagement, "After we're done here, I need to return to a previous engagement with the local blacksmith and his family, and I also ask for the gypsy to accompany me there, if it's okay with you," he concluded, shifting his gaze towards the familiar, yet unknown, gypsy.