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Dúlin

A powder in the cup is as deadly as a blade in the back, I use both.

0 · 283 views · located in Dysifinia

a character in “Pandemonium Stone”, as played by Sirk

Description

He is a thirty year old half elf assassin and like any killer life holds no meaning to him he loves his gold he kills only on contract. He wears Elbow Length Black Gloves, Knee high black boots polished to a shine, black breeches and a well-tailored long sleeved black tunic with a black leather breast plate over top to protect his chest.

A Long black cloak hides his weapons and his face is covered by a Plague Doctor Mask keeping it hidden the only thing you can see of him is his eye's black as coal and deep like a man who has been to hell and back. His body is an ugly ruined chunk of meat burn scars covering every inch of his body the worst covering his face he has no ears and his once handsome face ugly beyond belief. But beneath the disfigured skin is a well-toned body full of a wiry strength allowing him to put on bursts of strength and speed.

He has no friends and trusts no one. Laughter never leaves his burned lips unless it is a cruel bark. He is cold and has taken Torog as his personal God cutting everyone off from himself and living in his own darkness. He would kill you before he let you anywhere near himself. He is cruel with a sadistic streak that he puts to good use during his jobs.

Blood is thicker than Water is a joke to Dúlin he and his mother were trapped in their burning house set on fire by his half-brother. As he burned alive he swore revenge. His mother covered him with her body letting him live long enough to get out and crawled away from the burning hell that was his house. He gave up in an alley and curled up to die but he was saved by a physician who passed by. He was treated and the next thing he remembered was waking up in pain.

As he recovered he learned the name of the man who had saved him it was Tuilinn a half elf bastard but a doctor who was both herbalist and surgeon. Dúlin was taken in by the Tuilinn and began to learn how to be a surgeon and a Herbalist but as he learnt the arts of life he learned how to end life. He learnt what artery to cut and how to make poison for a painless death or a painful one. When he was fifteen the man who took him in died from a knife in the chest from an ungrateful client this destroyed Dúlin mentally leaving only hate and anger behind.

He swore revenge covering his horrific scars he went out for revenge and found it in twice first he killed and tortured the man who murdered his mentor leaving him hanging from the gibbet in the town square. The next person he visited was his brother. Dúlin murdered his brother and his brother family leaving his brother last to watch the show. After this Dúlin took up the practice that had belonged his mentor.

He learned how to fight by taking lessons and watching rouges and ruffians fight. Before long he had built up enough strength and skill to finally set up shop as an assassin. He travelled around a mobile clinic dealing out death and stopping it in equal measures. The mask lets him move around freely as plague doctor he has come to the fair for work.

So begins...

Dúlin's Story

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#, as written by Sirk
Dúlin moved slowly through the crowded the streets of the fair. He was following his mark a man who had proved quite elusive for the last week till he had finally arrived at the Bardusk’s Midsummer Fair much to Dúlin enjoyment fairs made work easier for him and brought him a lot of business. All these people from faraway places meant someone would die. He didn’t care what for as long they paid his price.

Dúlin loved crowds they helped him get around; what was one darkly dressed hooded man when he was blocked by throngs of happy laughing idiots. The smells and sounds from the stalls wound their way through the crowds but he ignored them food had lost any real taste and trinkets were of no value in his line of work.

He stopped and scanned the crowd locating his mark as the man was leaving an exotic food stall. The mark was a fat round man whose shirt was already stained with dozens of different foods just from this morning. The man was busy stuffing his mouth with little sweet pastries and licking his fingers as Dúlin walked into him knocking the fat man’s pastries onto the ground. “Sorry… Sorry, m’Lord.” Dúlin said his voice weak and frail sounding like an Old man. It was his favorite act he would be an elderly gentleman and nobody thought anything of it if he bumped into someone.

The mark waved his hand dismissing the act “No worries it was an accident.” Taking the man’s chubby hand into his own Dúlin said “You are so kind my son may Avandra bless you and bring you luck. As Dúlin turned away the fat man bent to pick up his pastries. A smile ghosted Dúlin lips beneath his mask the fat man would kill himself eating those pastries. The pastries wouldn’t even be the death of him but the poison that Dúlin had just put on his hand would.

Dúlin disappeared into the crowd once again a face without a name as the fat man doubled over choking to the horror of on lookers.

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#, as written by Sirk
Dúlin scanned the crowd checking to see if anyone was paying attention before he slipped into an alleyway. After checking again to see if no one was watching he abandoned the old man act straitening up and rolling his shoulders when he continued on his way again he had no limp. He hurried through the side streets keeping his hood low over his face to cover the plague doctor mask. He arrived at a junction in the alleyways where three different paths branched from the one he was on.

He would have been lost had he not spent yesterday evening planning his route. To get to his home he would take the left path but he took the right path instead to meet his employer so that he would get paid for the mark he just killed. Taking the right path he put up his act again not sure of who might be watching now that he approached the meeting place, hunching low and walking with a slow limp he started up again. Following the numerous twists and turns he made his slow way through the stinking alleyways arriving at the back of a low building he saw he employer with a bodyguard on either side.

He stopped and called out in a weak voice “Your job is done the Fat man will eat no more.” His employer looked up startled “Good, you have performed your task like asked there is only one matter to settle the payment.” The man carefully approached Dúlin his guards flanking him he stopped within just out of arms reach. “The job cost 700g” Dúlin said holding out his hand. The man dropped a small pouch into Dúlin’s hand “That’s 300g take it or leave it you’re an old man you might be able to kill a 1 fat man but you can’t take three of us in fair combat.” The man smiled coldly at Dúlin.

Suddenly Dúlin barked cruelly as he straightened to his full height of six feet “I neither fight fair nor am I an old man.” As he said this he dropped a small clay ball from his hand as it hit the floor he closed his eye’s protecting them from the blinding flash caused by the ball. The man and his body guards screamed as they were blinded in that same moment Dúlin drew two of his blades and let them, the daggers slammed into chests of both body guards who went down like rocks. He opened his eyes and drew his sword and remaining dagger ready to fight the last man but his onetime employer was still clutching at his eyes. Dúlin sheathed his sword and knocked the legs out from under the last man causing him to land flat on his back.

Dúlin knelt down his knee on the last man’s chest. The man was looking at him now fear in his eye’s “It’s unfortunate that every time I come to a new city someone tries to cheat me because they think I’m an old man who’s only skill is poisons.” Dúlin looked at the man; the mask on Dúlin’s face would be enough to cause nightmares. Dúlin reached up and pulled off his mask revealing his real face to the man he was kneeling on. The man screamed at the sight of the scarred flesh but the scream was cut short as Dúlin’s knife flashed in the dark alleyway creating a bright red smile on the man’s neck.

Wiping his dagger on the man’s shirt he searched his employer and found the rest if the payment he had and some extra. He slid the ring off the man’s finger, but finding nothing else of value he turned his attention to the other two men after looting them and retrieving his two knives he turned back to the last man. He needed to make an example of this man to show what happens if he is cheated by an employer.

Grabbing the body by the arm he hoisted it over his shoulder. He carefully climbed up the low roof tossing the body up before him; he repeated the process until he was standing on highest roof of the building which was level with the surrounding buildings. He lifted up the body and made his way back to the square where he had killed the fat man.

Placing the body on the edge of the roof he removed his employer’s dagger and coin purse from the body’s belt and stabbed the dagger through the coin purse and into the man’s chest. Kicking it off the roof he watched it fall slowly a smile on his face, any potential employer would know there was new assassin in town and they would make sure not to double cross him.

He turned and fled back across the rooftops just as screams from the street filled the air.

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#, as written by Sirk
Dúlin stood frozen on the rooftops watching the elder storm build his heart beating against his ribcage. He marveled at the fear the storm made him feel, it was the only thing that made him feel fear since the fire that nearly burned him alive. The storm was primal an uncontrollable force that meant death to anyone caught in it. A smile spread across his lips beneath the mask. Fear was good it reminded him he was alive.

He shook his head looking away from the storm. Running as fast as possible across the rooftops his cloak flapping around his shoulders, his muscles tensed as he neared a gap between two buildings near the eastern wall he sprang forward clearing the edge he was on a building near the wall.

Rain had made the roof of this building slippery as he reached the edge of the roof but he couldn’t stop he had too much momentum and the roof was to wet, he fell off the edge of the building, five meters from the ground his flailing hands caught a windowsill the force nearly ripping his arms out of their sockets but he managed to stop himself. He took one deep breath and then his fingers failed and he fell to the ground hard. He began to lose consciousness, as darkness filled his vision he watched people run by too concerned with themselves to help an 'old' plague doctor to safety.

He laughed weakly whispering to the air “A damned fire won’t kill me but the fucking rain will kill me a few meters from safety.”

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Character Portrait: Dúlin Character Portrait: Alazius
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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.

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#, as written by Sirk
Through the darkness that had enveloped him he heard a deep voice “On your feet you are not going to die this day.” Dúlin felt himself being dragged across the ground he knew he was being pulled to safety. Even in a state of semi-consciousness the irony of an assassin having his life saved was not lost on Dúlin if he had been capable of feeling something besides pain he would have laughed.

He was pulled into an upright position and a fur was wrapped around his shoulders. He began to regain function of his body his hand going to his face to touch the mask on his face undisturbed. He was relived it was still there, he took a look at his savior. It was a grizzled ranger he had seen earlier tending a stall on the same street he had dumped the body.

He felt a bad taste in his mouth he hated owing somebody especially since the debt he owed was his life. In his line of business that meant death. He opened his mouth about to broach the subject of payment when the man turned and ran off on some other errand at the same time a boy ploughed into him.

He looked to the direction the boy had motioned to and he say two people sitting slumped on a bench one seriously injured the other lightly wounded but the wound was already dirty and in this wet and filthy an environment the wound could be the death of her. He jumped to his feet he was an assassin but he was doctor and neither of those folk was a mark. His honour and pride wouldn’t let him fail at anything even if he was still hurting from his own fall.

He took one last look in the direction of the ranger who had saved him; he would repay his debt but not right now. He limped to the injured couple; this time the limp was real and not exaggerated, his leg hurt like hell.

He reached the pair and immediately went to the man who was the more injured of the two. He pulled out a small satchel inside was some gut, a needle, a small amount of an anesthetic and a small bottle of alcohol to clean the wound. The man was delirious with pain his wound was right across his chest it was deep and he had lost a lot of blood. “Doctor, help me it hurt so much.” He heard the lady next to him moan as he poured s mall amount of anesthetic into the man’s mouth. It immediately put him out like a light it was powerful stuff in large enough quantities it could kill.

He ignored the woman his concentration focused on cleaning the gaping wound with alcohol. “Do you know who I am? I am Lady Brigit I am important I have power in this city.” Ignoring her Dúlin began to stitch the wound his stitches careful and small he was going as fast as he could but the wound would be done properly. The woman began making threats ordering him to help her but he ignored her falling into a rhythm he only found when saving someone’s life.

He could hear the beat of the man’s heart and the sound of blood flowing through the man’s veins. The sound was weak but it was steady and matched Dúlin’s own heart beat for beat. Calm descended over Dúlin as he remembered the first time he had saved a man’s life, his hand had not been as skilled as it had been now but his mentor’s calm and reassuring voice had kept his hand steady. He felt a tear roll down his cheek beneath his mask. It had been a good day he and his mentor had celebrated with a bottle of wine an expensive treat they rarely had.

He shook his head focusing on his patient he was not the child he had been he had changed into a dark man.

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#, as written by Sirk
Dúlin watched as two men near him were crushed by falling debris a cruel bark escaped his lips A simple truth running through his head; Death finds everyone there is no escape. Was there any point to what he was doing helping this man only prolonged the inevitable. Even with these protests in mind his hands continued their work, hours of training had removed the need to look at a wound more than once after he began to stich it closed.

He finished wrapping the man’s wounds and turned to wash the blood off his hands when he saw an old man crawling weakly towards him. The man reached towards him saying “My... glass eye. It helps the blind... see.” The man reached up to his face and flipped back an eye patch. Inside the socket was a glass eye unlike any he had seen before it looked like an eye but where his eye was white the glass eye was a deep dark blue and where his eye was black this one was purple. The old man took a deep breath and spoke again “It must get back... To the Order... in Kryn. It must…” before the old man finished he took a final weak breath and crashed to the floor in front of Dúlin.

Dúlin stared at the eye the man had said it could help the blind see; he realised with a start it was an artefact of power like in legends. “It’s magic, real magic” He whispered to himself, he felt something he hadn’t felt in years not since his mother had told him of ancient kings and powerful magic a time when hero’s reigned and monsters cowered. He forgot about the storm he forgot about the death of his mother and of his mentor instead he was lost in the old stories he had heard as a child. Filled with a childlike awe that brought tears to his eyes he reached and gently removed the glass eye from the old seer’s eye socket.

Abruptly reality came back to him as he remembered the old man’s last words; the man had said the eye must get back to the Order he assumed the man had meant the Order of Magi for that as the only reasonable answer. The eye disappeared into one of the many pockets that were sown into the lining of Dúlin’s cloak the eye would be his secret for now until he decided what to do with it, it was safer if those who wanted it thought it was lost.

Dúlin sat back looking at the body of the Seer, this man had not used his last breath to beg to any gods or to moan, he had used the last of his strength to fulfil his duty to a higher cause. This sacrifice set the seer above so many other men, but it struck a chord within Dúlin as well. Dúlin’s mentor hadn’t begged or cried as he died instead Dúlin’s mentor had only coughed up blood and complained that he wouldn’t get to help any more people.

Dúlin stared at the body and decided he would return the eye in honour of the seer.
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After the storm

After the storm had left Dúlin moved into the wreckage of the city he began to find and help survivors but more often than not he would have to quietly end a life that was beyond saving. He didn’t help because he cared about their lives but simple because he was playing the part of the doctor and he was expected to help or it would arouse suspicion. As he stitched a child’s leg up he thought about his promise to return the eye. He would not leave right away on the journey, he needed to get ready and he needed the money his job would get him. The thought of more death in this city elicited no response in him he was killer it was life.

He moved to a body that was impaled on a broken wooden beam as he approached the body moaned he knelt beside it, only then did he notice it was a woman and she wasn’t human she was an Elf. He called softly in elvish “Hello lady of the east” his elvish was rusty since he hadn’t used it in years but he still remembered how to speak the language. Her eyes opened and she looked into his dark eyes, she saw the truth there, she was dying but she didn’t cry instead she opened her mouth to speak “Please release me to my gods”.

Dúlin nodded to her; gently he closed her eyes and lifted her head up as he whispered an elvish prayer into her ear he slipped out a knife and slipped it up into her head kill her instantly and painlessly. He gently placed her down and whispered his own blessing “Greet Death as an old friend for he knows you and will take care of you.” The blessing was one his mother had taught to before she had died. He turned away from her when he suddenly heard a call for any available citizens to head to the lords manor.

He picked up the elvish lady’s sword it was good steel better than his own and he felt that soon he would have need of it.

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Character Portrait: Keras Nyspar Character Portrait: Riona Craith Character Portrait: Dúlin Character Portrait: Alazius
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#, as written by Sirk
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.

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Character Portrait: Keras Nyspar Character Portrait: Dúlin Character Portrait: Alazius
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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.

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Character Portrait: Keras Nyspar Character Portrait: Riona Craith Character Portrait: Dúlin Character Portrait: Alazius
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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...

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#, as written by Sirk
Dúlin listened quietly as the group discussed what path to take to get to Kryn. His mind began to drift he was tired he’d been up for most of two days. The path they would take didn’t matter to him he was going along for the trip to complete one task but he had one thing on his mind, it was the look that the young nobleman Lord Vincent had given him. If he was a normal doctor he wouldn’t have thought anything of it but he was he wasn’t a normal doctor he made his task to stay alive and safe. The smile Lord Vincent had given him would have been interpreted by most as a happy smile but the smile was cold and Vincent’s eyes had been full of anger.

His mind began to look at the enemies he had made over the years, he tried to connect Vincent with any of them but most of his kills had left everyone involved wondering who had killed the target. He had never taken a job with any obvious links to this city or its lords. If it wasn’t an assassination that had gotten Vincent angry at him it must have been something he had done as a doctor, Dúlin reasoned in his mind. He his mind blurred and the images of Lord Vincent and his most recent patients began to blur superimposing themselves on one another. Suddenly it fell into place causing him to sit up straight the realization like an electric shock awakening him out of his half-awake state. The Lady he had ignored to treat the other man during the storm was related to Lord Vincent, judging from the facial features they were siblings.

Looking around no one had noticed his sudden movement. He swore to himself he had made an enemy of a Lord one with a lot of money. He stood up slowly clearing his throat to speak “If we are going to Kryn tomorrow, I have things I must take care of to prepare I beg to be excused” without waiting for a response he turned and headed to the door his face limp and hunched back had returned he needed to keep up his disguise for now it was how anyone knew him.

He slipped out a servant entrance not wanting to go out the front door and attract attention. Once he was out of sight of the manor he stopped. For anyone watching it would look like he was catching his breath but he was observing his surroundings looking for anything unusual. He noticed as man who had been near the servant’s entrance when he had been leaving the manor. The man was out of place in this neighborhood he was poor, too poor to be a servant and poor enough to be desperate; desperate enough to kill a man for the shirt off his back especially after an Elder Storm.
Dúlin continued on his way pretending to ignore the man as he walked down the main road towards his home. He made a turn into an alley and waited for the man to round the corner were Dúlin was waiting. Before the man knew what hit him Dúlin had an arm around the man’s neck the crook of Dúlin’s elbow on the man’s trachea cutting off his breathing. The man struggled against the hold but Dúlin waited till the man stopped struggling before he released the now lifeless body. He bent over and found a small fortune in coins on the man’s belt as well as a dagger of high quality worth more than the man made in a year.

He swore in Elvish, this man was hired to kill him. He turned and ran down the alley to get away from the body and to get home. He traversed the maze between buildings using his actual considerable speed to cover the distance quickly. Dúlin feared Vincent will have found his abode and placed men outside incase Dúlin had managed to return to it. He slowed down as he got close to the hole in the wall of an inn he was staying at. He pulled his new cloak about himself there was still day light but there were tall shadows he hoped he could hide in. He looked around the corner trying to get a view of the back of the inn where is cart would be stored. Dúlin swore when he saw four men armed with clubs and daggers around the back of the inn waiting.

Dúlin felt a pair of hands on his back as he was pushed into the open towards the four armed men. He stumbled looking behind himself he saw a fifth man armed like the other, smiling wickedly. “Let’s have some fun with this old coot.” Laughing the others turned towards him hoisting their clubs. The men circled him three hanging back and two of them right in front of him. One man raised his club laughing at that moment Dúlin acted. The man stumbled back his club falling from the man’s hand as he fell down looking at the dagger in his stomach. Dúlin didn’t stop there his second dagger was already in the second man, Dúlin launched himself towards the third man drawing his last knife and new Elven sword. The man had raised his club but the Elvish blade sliced through the club and into the man’s skull. The last two men had finally reacted both had their clubs and daggers out. They charged Dúlin one on either side of him. As the men brought their clubs down Dúlin brought his foot across in a sweeping kick to the men’s feet dropping both men to the ground. He slammed his blade and dagger into the backs of the men silencing them swearing he looted the bodies he would have to get out of here and find a place to lay low till he could meet up with the party traveling to Kryn in the morning.

It wouldn’t be a good night for Dúlin and it wasn’t even dark yet.