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The Stepless Thief
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His hair, with a hue to rival the sunset, whipped in the salty breeze as he stepped off the ship and onto the docks of Scara Brae. The sun's scarlet glow angled perfectly at his face, forcing him to shade his eyes and squint while he inspected the ships surrounding him. Almost every sort of ship imaginable filled his view, crewed by fisherman, sell swords, and captains. Urchins ran and jostled through the masses, and salesmen lounged about hawking their wares to potential buyers.
The docks bustled with activity while he made his way towards the City, keeping an eye on sticky-fingered children and menacing looking men. The traveler was tired. He needed a place to lie down and rest. The journey on the ship had left him exhausted and hungry from constant sea-sickness, and his entire body felt irritated by the salt crusted onto his clothing. 'I think I shall be content if I never have to step foot off land again.' Erikar thought, wiping his eyes for what could only be the thousandth time that day. He wove his way through the city-goers, eyes scanning absentmindedly for an Inn. As he searched, noting all the orphans and street rats running about subconsciously, he found his mind drifting back to his own childhood in Radasanth.
The rain came down hard and stinging, but the boy was used to it. The rooftop tiles under his feet were sharp and painful, but the boy was used to it. The hunger in his gut gnawed at him as he watched, but the boy was used to it. He was following his prey, another young boy who he had spotted stealing enough food to satisfy him for at least a day or two. His footsteps were silent and sure, a soft pitter-patter, indistinguishable from the rain hitting the rooftops, trailing the boy. His eyes glowed neon green when he leapt from one building to the next, clearing jumps a grown man would find disastrous. His quarry turned into an alley and hid behind a trash heap, rushing to eat the stolen food. The boy leaped across the space over the street below, missing the rooftop by a scant inch. He caught a windowsill and his eyes glowed once again while he pulled himself up with spiderlike agility. He crept until he was almost directly over the other boy,. Blissfully unaware, his prey was stuffing himself as if it might be his last meal. ‘How appropriate.’ the crimson-haired youth thought. He lowered himself, eyes luminescent, and began to crawl down the wall towards the boy. When he was about ten feet above the other boy, still unaware of the hunter’s presence, he clung to the wall tightly, one-handed, and pulled a hefty rock out of his belt. He readied himself mentally, and clutched the rock with a white-fingered grip. Heart pounding, he pushed himself off the wall and dove at the boy silently. He tackled him to the ground, eliciting screams of fear from the boy, and swung the rock with all the force his arms could muster. It struck the boy in his head, and the screaming stopped. But his instinct had been awakened, and he could not risk letting his prey live for fear of retribution. He swung the rock again, and again, and again until the blood flowed freely. He snatched the other boy’s food out of his limp hand and began to devour it voraciously. The taste of blood and bread mingled disgustingly, but the boy was used to it.
The crimson-haired man was broken out of his reverie by the sounds of wood and glass breaking. His eyes were drawn back to the entrance of an Inn, the sign out front reading "The Harlot's Wineskin." There was a large oak door from which the sounds and shouting were originating. ‘Bar fight or not, this place will have to do. I doubt I’ll be able to walk much longer without rest.’ Erikar thought as he walked to the doorway. When he entered, he scanned the room quickly, noticing a staircase leading up to a hallway that contained the room entrances. A large window was located at the end of the hallway, providing a view into the street below. There was also another doorway behind the bar, probably leading to the larder and the Innkeeper’s rooms.
He observed that the room was empty of any patrons besides a short man standing near the bar with five others, along with three more on the other side of the room. The small man looked rather unimpressive, standing roughly five feet and six inches tall, with short, slicked-back black hair. He wore a small but dangerous-looking rapier on his hip. The stranger leaned on the bar with a smug look on his face as he watched what could only be two more of his companions beat a man on the floor into a bloody pulp. His other comrades conversed and laughed loudly behind him, not even paying attention to the conflict. There was no innkeeper to be found in the front room, having probably hid in the back when the fight began. Erikar took in the whole scene before he locked eyes with the small man and began to walk toward the bar.
The small man’s smug look faded as he stared menacingly at the newcomer, and nudged his companions in his direction. “What’re you lookin’ at, cully? You got a starin’ problem?” The apparent leader piped in a tenor voice as his partners all turned to stare at the newcomer. “I’m just looking for a place to lay my head, mate, not looking for trouble..” The traveler told the man and his companions, hoping the bartender would emerge from the back. The two men beating the helpless victim on the floor had ceased to stare at the newcomer as well. “If you don’t want no damn trouble, then keep yer filthy eyes on the floor and your mouth shut, cully.” The raven-haired man said with confidence gained from standing in front of five large men. “Fair enough, mate, just call the Innkeeper up here, please and thank you.” He responded wearily. ‘I’m in no mood for this, dammit.. Why can’t I just catch ONE break?’ The man thought to himself as the smug little ringleader turned and smiled at his cronies. “Did you just tell me what to do, cully? It’s too bad you ain’t lookin’ for trouble, cuz’ you found it.” The small man told the traveler, motioning his companions forward.
‘Shit, no room or time to draw my sword.. I could probably take a few out before they get to treat me like the comatose fellow on the floor on the floor over there.. I believe I’ll run.’ He thought, inching backwards towards the door. However, when he turned to leave, the man found the ringleader’s two previously occupied bruisers blocking the door and smiling grimly at him. “Now, now, boys.. We don’t have to do this, I didn’t mean anything by.. SHIT!” The man said as the closest crony lunged for him. He dodged nimbly away and ran up the stairs, the entire gang minus the short man following close behind. Erikar's eyes glowed bright green, evidencing his use of magic when he leaped through the window. He shattered glass and bars as he flew towards a building on the other side of the street. The emerald-eyed man seemed to float towards the ground, the gang behind him looking on in confusion. Citizens froze and turned to stare when Erikar hit the ground and shook debris off of himself.
‘That was easy enough, thankfully. Now to find another place to rest..’ The traveler thought as he began to walk calmly away. ‘Maybe a rooftop, or a nice alley would serve-‘ Was all he was able to think before stars exploded in his vision and he fell to the ground. The pedestrians were now watching anxiously, or getting on with their evening. A heavy boot stomped on his left hand and ground it into the cobbles. Erikar screamed in pain as he looked up to see the gang leader smiling down at him. “You didn’t think I’d let you get away, did you, cully?” The man with slicked-back hair asked him condescendingly. “No, see, you don’t even know who I am. I own this side of town, and you better remember it. You can call me Ja’al. Nice to meet you.” Ja’al told him. ‘Where the f#!k did this guy come from?!’ Was the last thought the crimson-haired man had before the same boot crashed down on his face. The world went black.
Erikar awoke to a pounding in his head. Recollection escaped him as he cracked his eyelids open, sending needles of candlelight into his eyes. The traveler groaned and rolled over, away from the flickering flame. He slowly adjusted to the light close to his face, granting him comprehension of his surroundings. Apparently, someone had transported him out of the street and into a featherbed in their home, leaving him completely dressed besides his cloak and equipment, which was sitting next to the bed. They had also bandaged his hand, which was sore but not unusable. They had also left him a pewter cup of water on a bedside table next to a bowl of lukewarm soup with a spoon sitting in it. ‘Well, that was certainly trusting of them. I can’t say I’m not grateful, and this bed is a godsend. Perhaps I’ll enjoy it while it lasts.’ Erikar thought as he propped himself into a sitting position in the bed.
He looked around the room, noting a large wardrobe in the corner opposite the door, along with a few chairs by the bedside and a candlestick hanging off the wall. A window straight across from the bed allowed him a view of the dark city outside. ‘I must have been unconscious for a few hours. At least I got my rest..’ Erikar thought to himself while he studied the room some more. He reached across his chest with his right hand, grabbing the water. He thought of nothing but the cool feeling of the liquid soothing his dry throat as he drank, quickly draining the cup. A satisfied gasp escaped as he breathed in again, then set down the cup and grabbed the bowl of soup. He slurped greedily throughout his meal, savoring the warm broth with chunks of meat floating intermittently.
He stopped quickly when he heard the latch on the door open, and held the bowl in his lap when a balding head poked through the doorway. “Wonderful, you’re awake. I wasn’t sure when you’d come to. I’m glad to see you’re enjoying my cooking.” The older man told Erikar, bringing the rest of his body into the room. “It’s delectable, my good man, thank you. Far better than anything I’ve had in years. But I’m not going to beat around the bush. Who are you, and… why?” The traveler asked his caretaker politely. “My name is Harlon, and I’m just an old man with nothing better to do than care for strangers left on the side of the road.” Harlon said jokingly, with a smile that touched his eyes and took years off his face. “But in all seriousness, I saw what happened, and I have little love for Ja’al Thasbuyl and his gang. He likes to terrorize this little slice of Scara Brae and think himself big, but he is a small fish in this vast ocean.” The old man told Erikar with contempt in his voice. “So tell me, boy, what brings you to Scara Brae?” He asked of the Traveler with kind curiosity. “I don’t rightly know yet, Harlon. I came to catch a brief respite from my wandering, and it seems like no matter where I go, whoever is looking down upon me doesn’t want me to have a break.” Erikar said wearily, “And if that is the case, then I suppose I should not rest much longer. I thank you again for your kindness.” Erikar said to Harlon before he swung his legs out of the bed and sat up.
“Now, now, young sir, hold on there. Ja’al gave your head a pretty good blow. As a former physicker and unofficial caretaker of you, I’m not sure I can consent to you leaving and running about so soon. Who’s to say Ja’al won’t cross your path again? I doubt he’d leave you quite so… intact.. the second time around.” Harlon told him anxiously. “I appreciate your concern, Harlon, but I should be fine. I’ve dealt with worse than minor head trauma and a sore hand, rest assured. Your first-aid was better treatment that I’ve received in a long time, anyways, and Ja’al only caught me off guard. I promise you, he will not find me unaware a second time. By the way, my name is Erikar. I was born in Radasanth and raised by myself,” The traveler told Harlon while he stood and threw on his cloak. “and I will pay you back for this kindness.” Erikar buckled his baldric onto his shoulder and checked his pockets for all his possessions. Finding everything in order, he walked to Harlon and held his hand out for the old man to shake. “Fair enough. Nice to meet someone in this city who isn’t completely self-absorbed. I wish you the best of luck in your endeavors, Erikar.” Harlon said to the traveler as he shook his hand. “Now, allow me to walk you out.” “That will be unnecessary, my good man. I prefer a speedier route.” Erikar told him, walking over to the window and opening it. “The window? You are an odd one. Well, I hope that whoever watches over you grants you a break sometime soon.” The traveler’s new acquaintance told him when he stepped onto the windowsill. “You and me both, Harlon. Stay safe.” Erikar said, then leapt off the windowsill to the nearest roof.
He traveled over rooftops, scanning the streets for the pub he was accosted in. Scant few citizens roamed the streets, most being outlaws and vagabonds. He found that Harlon’s abode was only about a street over from the “The Harlot’s Wineskin.” ‘That’s good to know. It should be easy enough to find this place again.’ He thought to himself as he continued his nighttime trek over the rooftops. He paused on the roof of an apothecary to ponder his next course of action when he heard the flapping of tiny wings approaching. A relatively large raven flew to land in front of him with what seemed to be a small strip of paper in its beak. It dropped the parcel and cawed at him, then pushed the rolled-up paper towards Erikar. ‘Well, that’s certainly queer. I wonder what this could be.” He thought as he tentatively picked up the paper. The raven, seeming satisfied, cawed once again and flew off into the night. ‘I swear, ever since I set foot in this city, nothing has been normal.’ He mused as he opened the sheet. The paper was fine vellum, more expensive than feeding a family for a day or two. Written in thick red ink, it read –
Ja'al Thasbuyl and his gang have stolen enchanted goods from the Bazaar. These are -
Stepless Boots – Leather boots
Siren’s Song – Iron Dagger
Flash Shield – Iron Bracer
Air Mail – Iron Chainmail Shirt
Anvil Smashers – Spidersilk Gloves
Blood Axe – Iron Greataxe
Seeker’s Helm – Iron Skullcap
Deal with Ja'al and retrieve his boots. Be cautious to not attract the attention of the law. If possible, retrieve the other Artifacts. The Order of the Crimson Hand is watching.
'The Order of the Crimson Hand?..' The name sparked a flicker of recognition. He had heard stories of the shadowy group before, reputedly comprised of assassins and cutthroats of the highest echelon. There were many who doubted their very existence, referring to them as just another bogeyman story. But he had met others who feared to mention them even in hushed tones. When they did, it was to recount brief stories of how they came swiftly and silently, leaving no sign to the untrained eye. Re-reading the note in his hand, Erikar knew now which of the two groups were correct. 'An Order of professional killers is sending me on an errand,' He thought incredulously, 'A mission, I should say. I suppose I'll have to, whether I like the idea or not. Although, now that I consider it, the thought of getting even with Ja'al does sound appealing.. Very well, if I'm going to do this, I'll have to find out a bit more about my little ringleader and his magic boots.' Erikar mused as he rolled up the sheet of vellum. He tucked it safely into one of his cloak's pockets and jumped off the roof, slowing his descent to the ground with a steady push. Throwing his hood up to hide his face, he began walking toward the Inn where Ja'al first accosted him.
When he entered this time, the criminal and his crew were absent. The broken table and bloody floor from the afternoon had been cleaned, showing no signs of the earlier violence. Patrons were few and scattered about the room, minding their own business or warming up by the fire crackling in the hearth. The innkeeper himself had taken his rightful place behind the bar, attending to two customers who were obviously regulars, judging by their conversation. Erikar caught snatches of their quiet conversation as he approached the bar farther down from the innkeeper and his customers.
"-Don't rightly know what caused em' to do a thing like that. I'm bringing the soup they ordered out from the back and next thing I know, they're beatin' that poor man to death on me floor. So's, of course, I run out the back looking fer the Watch, and when I come back, my window is missing and the whole place is empty!" "Gods, Hamish, that's somefin else, I tell ya. This whole quarter of the city's gone to rubbish ever since Ja'al showed his ugly mug around." "Keep yer voice down, Royce, I swear. Ya never know if one of his gang is stickin' around." "One sec, mates, lemme see what this feller needs." The innkeeper told his friends before he approached the traveler.
"What can I get for ya? We've got warm beds and warmer food, if yer in need." The portly man asked Erikar cheerfully. "I'll take some soup, if you have any, please." The traveler replied politely. "Certainly, sir, that'll be two gold pieces. I'll bring you a pint along with it for three." The innkeeper bartered instinctively. "My thanks, but if you're so inclined, I'm a bit more interested in.. conversation." Erikar said quietly to the man, sliding him the three coins along with an extra seven. The rotund innkeeper eyed the gold greedily, before looking at Erikar again. "That, sir, would depend upon what it is you'd like to be conversing about.." He said, even though he was already reaching for the gold. "I would just like to know a little bit about a local troublemaker I've been hearing about, I believe his name is... Ja'al?" The traveler asked the innkeeper with a knowing stare. The innkeeper stopped mid-collection, glaring at the emerald-eyed man suspiciously. "And who'd be askin', if I might be so bold?" He asked Erikar, his two friends turning to stare as well. "Just a friend, mate. I have no love for him or his kind, I can promise you that. Although, if you still don't believe me, perhaps this might help you be more willing to trust me." The traveler told him, sliding another ten pieces of gold towards the innkeeper. The man stared at Erikar, as though searching for a lie on his face. After a silent moment, he took the gold, nodded, and turned around. "Allow me to fetch yer soup and ale, good sir."
The innkeeper's friends had gone back to conversing in whispers between themselves, so Erikar took the time to scan the room once more. Noticing nothing unusual, he turned back right when the innkeeper brought out a bowl of steaming soup and a large pint of ale. "Here ya are, sir. Enjoy." Erikar ate the soup slowly and nonchalantly, quaffing the ale periodically. When he finished, he noticed the innkeeper gesturing at him from his place down the bar. It seemed like he was making a sweeping motion with his hand, as though he wanted Erikar to break his cup. The traveler raised his eyebrow at the man and shrugged, then swept the mug off the bar, giving it the appearance of an accident. Almost immediately, the innkeeper stormed around the bar and grabbed him by the arm. "Oh, look what you've done, ya fool! You'll have to pay for that, come in the back now, you'll be washin' dishes all night!" The man said angrily as he hauled Erikar through the door into the kitchen.
As soon as the door closed, the innkeeper turned to face the traveler. "Sorry about that, never know if one of Ja'al's boys is stickin' round'. Now, what is it you'd be needin' to know about him? Be quick with it, boy!" He asked Erikar warily. "Where to find him, what to be wary of, where he sleeps, anything that might help me catch him unaware. I need the advantage." The traveler told the portly innkeeper pragmatically. "That's about what I expected. I don't blame you fer sayin' so. You're not the first to try and get rid of Ja'al. He's slimy, that one, always managing to weasel out of trouble. Not to mention is' boys are no strangers to a fight. But I suppose I might as well ave' a little faith. He likes to wander about during the city during the day, although if'n yer lookin' for im' a bit later on, I've heard some say he sleeps at a place called 'The Urchin,' if he's not prowling about. But be careful, he's got himself guarded rather tight. Some of his boys even have some enchanted weapons and armor. Tryin' to take them on would be no joke, especially if Ja'al himself joined the fray. You'd think some of his big mates would be the worst to fear, but no. That little bastard is a demon in a fight. His fists hit harder than they have any right to for a man that size, and all he wears is them fancy gloves. His little pig-sticker is poisoned, and he isn't half bad with it. And the way he moves.. He takes care not to be too flashy with it, but he can walk without walking. It's like one second he's standing still, and the next, he's halfway across the room. It ain't right, I tell ya.
Erikar listened quietly until the man finished, nodding along sagely. "It seems as though I'll have no easy task. I thank you for the assistance. As much as I hate to ask, is there an extra room you could spare for me? I'll pay more." The traveler asked the innkeeper wearily. "Good sir, think nothing of it. Just sit back here for a while, let everyone leave or go to their rooms, and you can take the last room in the upper hallway on the left. Some bastard broke my window today, but pay it no mind. I'll have it boarded up before sunrise." The old man told Erikar, handing him a key before he walked back into the bar. The night went smoothly, the innkeeper signaled to the traveler, and he went to his room. Chuckling as he passed by the gaping window, he unlocked the door, entered the room, and locked it behind him. His head met the pillow like a lover's reunion, and the traveler was soon asleep.
The night ran its course without event, and Erikar awoke shortly after dawn. The room he had stayed the night in seemed to be a large storage closet. It had most likely been converted to another room by the innkeeper to generate more revenue. It was windowless, and the morning light shone through the crack at the bottom of the door. The traveler took his time getting out of bed, stretching and enjoying the feeling of a good night's rest. He was ready. It had been a few months since he had quit guarding caravans. A few short months since he had felt the adrenaline coursing through him, but it felt like it had been years. The prospect of tonight's hunt awakened a thrill in him, a feeling not unlike the feelings he felt as a child, surviving in Radasanth. He would find every weakness of Ja'al Thasbuyl, no matter how long it took. The short, dangerous man had awakened an instinct in the traveler that would not rest until there was retribution. He would follow him, find where he slept and where he walked, and when the time was right, he would end him. But the instinct told him that for now, he must prepare.
Erikar sat on the bed, sharpening his sword. It had been almost a month since he had last honed its edge. He guided the file across the edge precisely, up and down the length of the blade. He ended the edge about six inches above the hilt, leaving room to use his hand for extra leverage. Once the traveler finished revealing the edge of his blade, he pulled out a whetstone and began polishing the edge smoothly. He used the same care and precision as he did when sharpening, taking care to avoid cutting himself. The process was almost like a silent mantra, a calming ritual done more times than he could remember. He finished by oiling the blade and wiping it down before placing back in its scabbard. Finally finished with his personal sacrament, Erikar gathered all his equipment and headed out of the room. The innkeeper, true to his word, had boarded up the window completely, two boards thick. The traveler didn't blame the man, glass being expensive as it was. 'I almost feel like apologizing..' was as far as that train of thought went before the hunger caused his stomach to moan.
He was alone in the common room when he sat at the bar, hailing the innkeeper. It was a couple seconds before the man bustled out of the kitchen door, a bowl of stew in his hands. "Mornin' to ya, lad, here's a thanks for yer' generous donation from last night. However, in the case that Ja'al decides to come knocking today, I'm afraid you'll have to be leavin' once yer' finished." He said, a look of slight regret upon his face. But it was gone in a split second, the model of seriousness in its place. "You'll brook no argument from me, sir. I'll be gone before you know it." Erikar said easily, not bothered by the command. He was ready to be on the move, ready to begin his hunt. "Right, well then, I never saw ya', you never existed. Good day." The innkeeper said with finality before he walked into kitchens once again. The traveler ate quickly and left, beginning his walk through the streets. The sun was shining brightly overhead, another clear morning in Scara Brae.
Erikar wasted no time in turning into one of the many alleys of the city, avoiding the people beginning their daily routines. Using his new-found cover from the citizens' sight, he quickly scaled the wall of an unknown building to the roof, looking around for land marks. "According to the innkeeper's directions, 'The Urchin' should only be a few streets away from my current location. Only dumb criminals shit where they sleep.." Erikar said quietly to himself, still searching. He began to travel over the rooftops, invisible to the residents of Scara Brae. He soon found the Inn, a small sign outside depicting a small boy. He watched the entrances from above for a prolonged period of time, but apparently Ja'al and his gang were not inside. Either that, or they were holed up inside, but it was about midday but now. If they were in there, at least one of the gang would have given some indication. He continued his rooftop excursion, always alert for signs of Ja'al and his crew. The sun lingered in the sky for long, tedious hours of searching before the hunter finally spotted his prey. Twilight filled the sky before the quarry and his lackeys finally began making their way down the street en masse, headed back ('Finally,' Erikar thought,) to 'The Urchin.' Most of the inhabitants of this part of the city seemed to be strangely absent as the prey approached its den.
"Did you see 'er face?" Jeered one of the pack.
"Ev'ry time we kick 'im while he was down, she let out a lovely quip!" Responded another with a wry smile.
"Oye, yeah! What about when he stopped breathin'?" The group burst into a howl of laughter.
"She was a bit of fun that one. Put up a good fight before, we had a go on that sweet arse of hers," Ja'al spoke with a curl of his lips. The group of five rose into another bout of laughter. A stubby finger rose to sweep away a joyful tear from the corner of a beady eye.
"Well whatta we do now boss?" asked one of the larger thugs. His voice was deep, yet bland with an obvious tone one would attribute to a slow wit.
"Thinkin' we had ourselves a good night. What do ye boys say we --" Jaal stopped mid sentences, and his arms shot out to still his comrades. The five came to a halt. The slower one, less keen to the others, trudged on further until he caught on and froze in place.
"What's wrong?" whispered one of the thinner thugs. His serpentine eyes looked to and fro in an attempt to root the reason for their silence. This one seemed agile, already ready with blade drawn. Ja'al did not reply at first, but his feet slid along the earth as oil would upon water. Without a sound he crept forward, the opposite of where Erikar laid in wait, and his eyes locked to the shadows of a oak which dimly glowed with the light of street lanterns. Curiosity, mixed with a hint of fear shone upon his features through the flicker of flame .
"Boss?" A rough voice broke the silence, owned by the second of the large bandits. This one seeming sharper than the rest, but clearly more brawn than beauty.
Ja'al shook his concern. His renowned confidence washed back over him as he turned to a quartette of quirked brows. "Felt like we were bein' watched..."
"Heh! Like the guard, or anyone for that matter would dare..." The last of the five contributed in a clear, clean tongue. His Tradespeak by far surpassed the others as an indication of either sharp wit or sharp tongue. The four lesser bandits loosed a few laughs, but they were stifled by the seriousness Ja'al cast upon them.
"Topher, Bausto," the obvious leader barked, "You get first guard. If anyone so happens to blink an eye in our direction, yeh turn there eyes black. Y'got it?" The larger two stiffened up and offered an affirming nod. One rose an uniquely shaped axe, the other fumbled, but armed himself with a tiny, humming dagger.
"Clouse, you're on lookout from tha loft. Anything odd, let us know." The one with the body of a message runner and venomous eyes loosed a grin as his response.
"Oswald," Ja'al turned to the last of his men. "You'll be at my side with that helmet of yers. If you... hear anythin', let's know which way it came. Now let's get inside."
The only bandit without a crude accent untied a basic looking skull cap from his hip. As directed, he placed it upon his head and the band of merry miscreants continued behind the closed doors of "The Urchin". Only the brawniest of men remained out in the night air with arms folded and sour faces peering to the sparsely populated streets of Scara Brae.
The hunter studied his quarry, watching as they finally reached 'The Urchin.' Possible plans of attack ran through his head while he spied on the gang from above, pondering the best angle of attack. There were two large, burly bruisers standing close to Ja'al, along with the other three average-sized men. They all joked about their latest 'conquest', Ja'al's comments arousing laughter from all of them as they walked. Erikar ducked behind his cover as Ja'al stiffened. He imagined the little ringleader turning around, scanning his surroundings and spotting him somehow. The thought sent a rush of adrenaline coursing through his blood. However, all the traveler heard was the small man mumble about a bad feeling and turn around, issuing commands to his gang. Erikar peeked back over the cover in time to see Ja'al walk inside inn, one of his lackeys putting on a helmet and following him in.
The two bruisers stood guard at the front door, one wielding a large iron axe. The other guard held a tiny dagger he seemed afraid to wield in his beefy hand. They stood ready due to Ja'al's paranoia. The hunter could wait for them to relax.. but that might leave him in the open. An old saying popped into Erikar's head, one he once lived his life by. 'Visible is vulnerable,' had proved true to him more times than could count. Instinct took over, his mind reacting to stimulus without thought. He ran and jumped to an adjacent roof, now diagonal to 'The Urchin' and its guards. His mind calculated the distance automatically, approximating that he was about thirty feet away from the closest guard. If he timed a push correctly, he could clear the jump, hopefully take out one of the guards, and roll into position to fight the other guard. But that would require using most of his magical energy, and there were still three more adversaries once these brutes were taken care of.
The traveler readied himself mentally, unsheathing his sword and dropping the baldric from his shoulders. He would need as much freedom of movement as possible. He couldn't risk the scabbard botching his maneuver as he hit the ground, as a fall from this height might knock him unconcious. Erikar pulled his spike from his belt, and weapons akimbo, he sprinted and leapt off the rooftop. He enhanced the jump with a strong push off the building at the last moment, sending himself flying at the thug equipped with the dagger. The free-fall seemed to take an eternity. The hunter had time to think 'Ohshitohshitohshit' before his instincts regained control and his muscle memory combined with another push sent the spike rocketing at the thug with the axe. Unable to see the outcome, he rolled gracefully as he hit the ground, an expertise born of practice showing in his movements. He turned to face the dagger-wielding thug, who exclaimed when he saw Erikar hit the ground.
Both over fed and overly muscular bandits stood like dumbfounded flesh gargoyles. Their empty gaze continued endlessly as their immediate urgency to be on guard diminished into boredom. The slower of the two signaling such by attempting to pick an obstruction from his teeth with a dagger that certainly looked like a toothpick in his titanic grasp. As soon as the polished iron touched rotting ivory, a unique, high-pitched buzz emitted.
"Ow!"
"Shit!"
Droplets of blood spattered to the cobblestone, and the oaf bent at the waist with a free and covering a bloodied mouth and singing dagger clattering to the ground.
"It bit me!" he proclaimed, although muffled through his hand. He turned to his colleague for some form of comfort to find him in a similarly hobbled pose. His hand was over his upper chest and pulled away slowly to reflect a deep red hue to both their disbelief. As if providing an answer to their growing stupor, their assailant tumbled to a stop just several feet away. The injured Bausto brought his axe to the ready and began to charge as if the spike protruding from his chest were but a bee sting. The information failed to register as quickly to Topher, whom still clutched a cut lip. As though hit by Erikar's spike himself, he jostled his body with revelation.
"You!" He stammered while the oozing gash became exposed, "Boss!"
Topher wasted little time in throwing himself upon the chattering dagger in the street, wrestling to get it within his grasp to defend himself.
"You die this time!" shouted Bausto with axe risen high above his head to only rush downward as he closed the gap.
From within the building, several other shouts could be heard, and in the window swept a shadow in a rush.
Erikar was almost surprised at the time it took for the goons to react.
'For experienced criminals, I figured they would be less... amateur.' The traveler thought. His spike had obviously struck home in the axe-wielding guard's chest, although it had little effect. The goon who had formerly held the knife in his sausage fingers shouted a warning before diving to the ground. He wrestled with the blade on the ground, which emitted an odd humming noise. The other outlaw, obviously the more capable of the two, came bellowing at Erikar, axe raised. He had dealt with the miscreant's kind before on caravan routes. Large men who liked to swing axes with all the force they could bring to bear were common in bandit groups. They were dangerous, skilled or not. It didn't take years of training to swing an axe effectively. The traveler's emerald eyes narrowed. 'I have to act quickly, Ja'al and half the city know I'm here now..' He deduced in a fraction of a second.
His blood rushed as he applied a small push to the buzzing knife instinctively, hopefully distracting the other thug for a few more precious seconds. Erikar raised his sword quickly when the more competent of the two swung his heavy axe, deflecting the blow. His arms vibrated from the impact, making it difficult to keep a grasp on his sword. 'I've got to be careful, one botched parry and that axe will shatter my sword like kindling.' The hunter heard shouts coming from inside the building now, signalling that the thug's allies would soon come to his aid.
'I can't deal with five of them at once. I've got to get rid of this brute, fast!'
The outlaw attacked adroitly with his large axe, showing a skill Erikar had not expected. His efforts were too concentrated on defending himself from the axe. If he didn't act swiftly, this fight would be decided in their favor soon.
His eyes shone menacingly as he directed a strong push into his spike, which still protruded from the thug's chest.
The axe fell with the speed of a hammer to the anvil. Similarly, it struck steel and rang to the night streets of Scara Brae as a bell to conflict that any nearby guard would hear. Bausto's weight followed through into the blow, forcing him to teeter forward and compensate with a relocated step. As though the imbalance was part of the plan, he twisted the head of the axe with the flow of momentum and prepared to bring it across in an effort to sheer through Erikar's red locks. The blade sailed to its mark and drastically changed direction at the moment a stifled roar broke the night air. Bausto forcibly disarmed himself to divert his hands to the iron spike. Surprise and pain were the last things to befall his chiseled features when both hands only fell upon a bloody hole. The spike crawled into his lungs - he fell to his knees. It kissed his heart - he fell forward. Bausto found his early grave amongst the filth of Scara Brae's gutters.
"Bausto!" exclaimed Topher, who abandoned the need for a dagger the moment he watched his colleague fall. Quite easily more capable without a blade, Topher moved with alarming speed and drove two fleshy hammers towards the new murderer in quick jabs. The onslaught continued and against the expectation of one so dull witted, he pulled back in anticipation of a counter blow. The direction to which he maneuvered placed him within the reach of Bausto's discarded axe and the giant was once again armed.
Twin oaken doors added more thugs to the scene as remaining three struggled to push themselves through the entryway and into the streets. They took offensive stances, all locked on the boy and began moving to encircle him.
"You again!" Ja'al spat as he stood in front of the building. His eyes fell to the corpse of one of his men, and anger set in to his features. The dim flicker of street lamps bounced reflectively off the rapier being drawn from his side. "You'll stay quiet this time, cully. Kill'em boys!"
They all jeered in reply and Ja'al began to advance an unnatural speed - without ever moving his feet...
The three remaining gang members and their leader had all joined the fray. There was a lull in the battle, a tense reassessment of the situation by all its participants. Erikar knew that this band of outlaws was not to be underestimated. 'Even a mighty tiger has sense enough to fear a pack of angry lions.' But he was not sure of how the criminals perceived him. He hoped they lacked the caution to give the traveler the same evaluation, attributing his defeat of their companion to luck. If so, their playing field would be slightly closer to being level. But not by much, as the hunter was tiring from his uses of magic. The silence was a frayed rope, finally snapping as Ja'al spoke.
"You again!" Ja'al exclaimed with venom in his voice. The doorway was his sanctuary while he scanned the street.. His eyes drifted to the corpse of his comrade, and the fires of rage filled his eyes. His rapier rasped like a death rattle as the outlaw drew it from its scabbard. "You'll stay quiet this time, cully. Kill'em boys!"
The bandits and their sovereign advanced menacingly. The group circled the hunter, steeling themselves. He knew what their strategy what entail. They did not plan on allowing him to defend himself. The party would attempt to attack as one, to swarm and overwhelm their aggressor. Erikar knew that there was only one tactic when surrounded; Escape through the path of least resistance.
He had little time to decide, eyes fixed upon the advancing crew. His gaze settled upon one of the smaller delinquents, the lookout Ja'al had posted when they entered 'The Urchin.' He hesitated for a split-second, smiling at what he saw behind the lackey, calculating the edges of his reach. Satisfied, he acted. A strong pull brought the humming dagger, forgotten by the larger criminal, spinning straight towards the lookout's back. Simultaneously, he pivoted and used the last of his energy to augment his step with a slight push and drive his shoulder into the lookout, attempting to make a tactical retreat.
The men circled like dogs around the wounded prey they sought to make their evening meal. Each grimaced with overconfidence in their own ability. Blades made flashy shows in their hands, spinning, rotating and thirsting for blood. As one would image a pack of animals to operate, they were all keen onto on another. Flashes of eye movement to one another and expressions of sport were exchanged in silence as they debated their plan of attack. Caged prey always put up the best fight.
The man whom possessed features akin to a snake in both movement and scrawny stature advanced in a flurry. Their communication was on point, each of the others springing into action in unison. The adrenaline of battle peaked for a moment to let time crawl to a snail's pace. The hum of the flying dagger became a low waver, their shouts slowed to a rolling bellow, and the dust expelled from Erikar's feet in an unnatural ring. Time waits for no man, and the chaos came to fruition.
"Kill him!" Ja'al shouted, his speed advancing to the fray.
Clouse had eyes grow wide as he found himself pincered by just one man. His body spun in the air and his chest seared with pain barring him from emitting any form of shout. The dagger made a clean incision straight through the lookout and barely missing the speeding body ramming the gurgling corpse in progress. Topher swung his axe to meet nothing but air and to the opposite effect, was gifted with his own dagger lodged clean in his massive shoulder. The hilt of which grotesquely sputtered and clattered against the bone, dropping the oaf to his knees in sudden agony. Oswald, with his inability to faint the trifecta blow, watched his momentous short sword careen into the meat of Topher's neck. The blade slid deep and the expression of shock painted them both. It was quicker to leave the big oaf then the accidental attacker as the color flushed from his skin at the same rate the red spilled to the streets.
The body Erikar pushed past crashed into the cobblestone head first. The hollow crack of caving skull was paramount to the utter fatality of the move. Clouse had transitioned from the world of the living with but a blink of the eye and a faint gurgle of his final breath. Oswald watched and listened as Bausto's death echoed Clouse's departure from the living. A look of betrayal stained itself in Oswald's mind as the last thing Bausto's face could offer before pressing into the spreading pool of crimson about his feet. Shock turned to fear, fear grew into determination, and determination blossomed into rage. Furious eyes locked onto Erikar's wingless flight to witness a blur of green speed into sight.
"Damn you, Cully!" Ja'al shouted at Erikar's tail, near matching his aerial speed. "I'll cut you down myself!"
At his back, Ja'al lunged to taint the redhead's flesh with its poisoned tip. A smug grin of confidence kissed the thug's expression knowing that a dodge in mid air was his only exit, and a miracle would be the only salvation to a slow end.
Ja'al screamed "KILL HIM!"
Erikar executed the maneuver perfectly. The blade sung as it cleaved flesh and bone, changing pitch upon exit, then once more when it struck another unintended target. The sentry couldn't resist as Erikar's augmented tackle sent him tumbling. His skull split on the cobbles, leaving Erikar's retreat open. The traveler used his momentum to try and leap over the body for a quick escape. The sound of a meaty thwack reached his ear shortly before the bandit leader threatened him.
"Damn you, Cully!" Ja'al shouted from close behind. "I'll cut you down myself!"
Erikar's instincts screamed at him, years of conflict and experience signalling imminent retaliation. The innkeeper's words came to mind, warning of unnatural speed and a poisoned blade. The hunter knew that to fail now would mean an agonizing death in the gutters of Scara Brae. He would be lost to history, an unnamed casualty in an unseen war. Energy born of desperation flooded his body, pavement to the road of salvation. Erikar twisted in mid-air to see Ja'al's deadly stinger bridging the gap between them. A frantic burst of power, aligning the traveler and the sword's magnetic fields, made it impossible for the point to touch him. The ringleader only pushed his adversary further away as he lunged.
This also caused Ja'al to topple due to body weight difference. Erikar cleared almost fifteen feet before he hit the ground, righting himself quickly. His roll brought his view up to see a bright flash of light, forcing him to blink and close his eyes. The traveler opened his eyes to see Ja'al standing slowly, blinking away the afterimage of the flash.. Ja'al's only remaining lackey stood over their comrade, his sword buried in his friend's neck, probably in shock. Erikar stared at Ja'al menacingly, his hatred boiling his blood. The hunter brought his sword up, his stance wide and experienced. "Come now, Ja'al. You and me. I will end you honorably, not cornered like an animal. I want to savor this. Now, what do you rapier-flourishing fairies say? En garde?" The hunter's taunt ended, a smile splitting his features as he readied himself to meet his foe.
The thrust was strong and true yet the resistance he met was unworldly. This feeling strongly contrasted that of steel sliding into flesh and felt more akin to forcing a blade through cold molasses. Unprepared for this unusual phenomena, Ja'al's body teetered forward and the gliding boots which gave him his speed slipped from under him as if on ice. He tried to brace for impact, and succeeded in doing so with the bracer he wore specifically on his left arm. In a flash of light, Ja'al squelched and his body cascaded across the city street until stopped by a lamp post.
"Boss!" Shouted the only remaining lackey, heaving his blade from the shoulder of the dead. Oswald brimmed with anger, giving full charge to Erikar. His voice grew shrill in its battle cry. His blade held fast and prepared to avenge.
"Stop!" shouted the battered leader. Oswald broke his charge and froze. Ja'al lifted himself to his feet, his face scratched and lip bleeding. He tried to blink away the stained flash from his bracer from his eyes with little success.
"What'd you say, cully?" he spat, quite literally as bloody saliva found itself flung to the road. "Did you just call me a dog?"
"And a fairy," Oswald chimed, still seething from the loss of his brothers at the hands of some stranger.
"Quiet you," Ja'al slid along the earth without a sound to mark his travel. This time, he moved slow and deliberate to demonstrate the lack of need for footwork in their upcoming duel. "I got a question before I run you through: Is all this worth a pop in the head? Yeah, y'may have killed off men that've been loyal t'me over the years, but I can get more."
Oswald soured at the statement, his temperament dwindling at the news.
"What's yer game, cully? Y'risk it all for what - Payback?"
Ja'al brought his rapier to the ready, his bracer held ready to block anything he could not parry. His visions still waned in the night, but he would not make this known.
"It doesn't matter. One stick from Rat-tail here and I'm off in a flash. Th' guard will be moppin' your corpse up with th' rest in the morn." He turned to his last colleague. "Oswald, you stay out of this. Best to scamper off before th' cans arrive." Ja'al locked his gaze back upon the nimble aggressor with a smile through bloody teeth. "As you put it cully, engarde!"
Ja'al shot forward, feet unmoving in yet another frontal thrust. He feinted the blow with a flick of the wrist while he simultaneously snapped a crescent flank to Erikar's side. In this moment, he forced his wrist rigid and swept for the legs. Determination, rage, and the clatter of steel en masse in the distance drove his desire to end this in one swift maneuver. All it would take was one laceration and the villain would live to fight another day.
Their banter ended with the gang leader's cry of "En garde!"
Ja'al sped forward, his feet immobile, going for what seemed to be another thrust. 'Fencers are never that straight-forward, no matter how enraged.' Erikar thought, foreseeing Ja'al's experienced feint to his side, then to his legs. The stance of Erikar's swordsmanship style kept his blade low, easily enabling him to swat the ringleader's blade aside. The traveler saw the same determination and anger that motivated him mirrored in Ja'al's eyes. The sound of marching alongside the ring of steel signaled the coming of the guard, still a little ways off. Both of these factors gave him all the more reason to end this, quickly.
They dueled for a moment, neither blade able to gain purchase against the other. The loud strikes drowned out the sound of their labored breathing. Ja'al began to lose some of the cocky confidence he displayed at the beginning of their bout. The clashing of their swords began to take on a strange rhythm, and the traveler fell into the flow easily. 'Dodge, parry, attack, dodge, parry, parry, dodge...' He thought as their encounter stretched on. Ja'al, frustrated, began to dart around Erikar, his feet motionless. As he searched unsuccessfully for an opening, Erikar was forcibly put on the defensive. He wove his way back towards the dead bodies while they battled. Ja'al was following angrily, his blade swinging away from the hunter after yet another failed thrust, when Erikar delivered a punch to the small man's face. The blow was not overly powerful, only stunning him for a quick second. This was all the time the hunter needed. He gathered the criminal into a bear-hug, squeezing with all his might. Ja'al was unable to react, his small frame not providing him enough strength to break out of the hold.
"You want to know my game, Ja'al? My 'game' is that I don't like you. You and your ilk are the worst this world has to offer, rapists and cutthroats all. Also, somebody worth more than ten of you gave me a good excuse to kill you. I hope that satisfies you, cully." Erikar spat in final retort. Using almost all of his energy in one pull, he ripped his spike out of its place in the brute's body, bringing it whistling towards Ja'al's unprotected back. The gang leader's eyes widened at the sound, then further at the impact. "Dirty... bastard.." Ja'al gurgled with his last breath, as warm blood emerged from his mouth. Erikar dropped him on the ground unceremoniously. The sound of the Watch approaching grew louder by the second. He swiftly retrieved the note from his cloak, reminding himself of the artifacts the Order wished for him to retrieve. He rapidly stripped Ja'al of the Stepless Boots, the Flash Shield, and the Anvil Smashers.
'What the hell? Ja'al fought me wearing THESE?!' Erikar thought with incredulity as he picked up the spidersilk gloves. 'I'm actually frightened to think of how that would've turned out, had he not been wearing them.." He reflected somberly. With the last of his energy, he pulled the Siren's Song into his hand. It hummed dangerously as he gathered the rest of the gear in the crook of his arm. Erikar sprinted down the street, searching for the safety of an alleyway, attempting to elude the guard. The traveler ran until his lungs burned and his muscles ached. When he was sure he was safe, he dropped the gear on the cobblestones in an alleyway. He then sat down beside the pile, breathing deeply.
"Not perfect, but not bad," spoke the shadow adjacent to the exhausted boy. The darkness enveloped the form of a man, but to which only the outline could be barely made out. “Four men killed, all gear retrieved, and not a wound to remember it by, I am impressed. You did manage to let one get away, but I spared you the worry of him talking. The execution was sloppy, but the job is done none the less.”
The night watch’s toll began to ring, filling the air with its loud cry.
“Before you start with the cliché ‘Who are you?’ and ‘What do you want’,” it continued as the flat, ashen grays washed away as though it were a coat of water. Ghastly wisps of platinum, twin emerald eyes locked in sinister presentation, black leather attire akin to a rogue, and trademark crimson scarf all flushed into existence. “My name is Lichensith Ulroke, and I can see you accepted my contract.”
The stranger clicked his bladed heels against the stone trim of the building he leaned against. Four long needles, similar to the ones Erikar had used in his confrontation, were tucked in between his gloved fingers.
“I have a proposal for you,” Lye spoke from his relaxed, yet potentially lethal position. “You see, I lead a group of like minds who enforce a worldly balance. We remove people from the world that others have deemed… no longer necessary to exist. This is of course paid in full either by coin or other spoils, such as the ones you now carry. What you possess is a fraction of what I can offer, and it could be yours to use as you see fit. All that I ask is your unwavering loyalty to me and my order. Aside from that you are a free man. What do you say?”
The sound of shuffling steel, ringing of the alarms, and Erikar’s winded breathing mixed in the cold night air. The assassin stood firm in his resolve as he allowed his words to sink into the adrenaline high youth.
“Although, if you decline, I will take what is listed on that contract and leave you to your current… predicament.”
Erikar remained silent, considering the platinum-haired man's proposal heavily. The sound of his breathing quieted as he rested, the seconds ticking on. Finally, after momentary deliberation, the traveler looked up into the man's eyes. They were a verdant green, matching his own almost perfectly. His brow knitted as he answered.
"This is only a fraction, you say? If that's the case, you can put those needles away. Gold and riches are a tempting enough offer to make me want to join you, without you waving those pointy things in my face." The gravity of the situation kept him from smiling. "My name is Erikar, and since you haven't killed me yet, I suppose you're being serious." Erikar knelt before the Master Assassin, looking up at him solemnly.
"I give my life to you in servitude. I will be a tool for you to use, a force unleashed at your behest. For better or worse, I will follow you. This, I swear." The oath was a rebirth, a beginning to a new chapter in his life. He promised himself he would make the most of it. He would become powerful and deadly. All would know that he was not a man to be trifled with. This was his second oath, one he swore to himself silently.
Erikar stood and turned, grabbing his collected items off of the cobbles. He submitted them to his new master, the first offering of many. "I hope I have pleased you."
The assassin loosed a chuckle. His fist opened and the needles it contained drifted weightlessly into their sheathes as though possessed. The hand gripped the hilt that belonged to one of twin blades as he knelt to face his new disciple. Although his lower face was covered by the red vlince of his scarf, the assassin wrinkled his face into an eerie smile.
"You can cut the formalities," he breathed. "Your oath will be writ in blood, not words."
They both rose in unison, the boy grabbed his spoils of war, and Lye let his arms fall slack.
"I am not one to be pleased, just one not to be crossed. Now let us not waste more time, we must get free of the night watch. Take my lead and do not stray, for I know your speed."
Lye broke his piercing stare with the boy and made haste. He hugged to the shadows, and weaved a skilled path through the alerted city folk of Scara Brae with boy in tow.
-------
Three weeks by boat and one by foot, they now found themselves in the chilling blizzards of the Skavian wilds - a place called Blackmist Hollows.
"Is this the boy you mentioned in your messages?" asked a man of serpentine eyes, dressed in fine azure silks. His steps clicked away on a stone floor and whispers of each pace echoed against the barren walls of a grand hall. Three figures passed countless chairs along a massive length of deep cherry wood decorated with silver candelabras and wooden dishware.
"Yes," Lye spoke plainly. "This man is Erikar Aodhfionn, and he will be joining our ranks. I trust you have prepared the oath?"
"As requested," the thin correspondent replied with parchment in hand.
Lye stopped at a massive throne poised at the end of the feasting table. He ascended the steps to what seemed to be a construct wrought of human and beast bone. He removed the arctic furs that kept him alive for the journey and draped them over the spinal column which made one of the two arms, then took a seat.
"Give it to the boy," the assassin spoke upon his skeletal chair.
The overseer did just that, and he parchment was handed to Erikar.
"Erikar, your true oath is one of blood. On that parchment is an arcane circle drafted by both a demon and Ai'brone monk."
Lye motioned to the azure assistant to which he produced a ceremonial blade.
"Enough to blot the paper with a hand print will suffice. Once complete, this parchment will serve as your oath of loyalty. Should you ever put this order at risk or attempt to claim freedom from our ranks, this will arrive to you in the same manner as your first contract. You will then be destined for death with no escape. We will find you, kill you, and your soul will never know peace."
The assassin gave him pause to decide, the still of his grand hall eerie in its silence.
"Let us hope your resolve holds true to your words in Scara Brae."
Emerald hues observed like a lecher would a maiden. They anxiously anticipated the completion of the uniform ritual for all initiates to the cause. This moment would either lead to a sacrificial slaughter in refusal, or the christening of a new ally.
The true test had come. A contract in blood, binding him on a primeval level to this dangerous man and his band of assassins. The prospect, laid starkly in front of him, was now far more daunting than he had first considered. To back out now would be a swift, painful death. To back out later would be an eternity of punishment. His bloody palm print on that paper would effectively end his old life, beginning anew in the shadows. It was time to decide.
"Give me the knife." Erikar intoned flatly.
The youth stared at the Master Assassin as he received the ceremonial blade, then knelt on both knees. He then placed the contract on the ground before him. His gaze never left the man's emerald eyes while he drew the knife across his open palm. The scarlet nectar of life oozed slowly at first, then began to gush as Erikar closed his fist. The traveler unfurled his fingers over the contract, droplets of blood streaming onto the paper. Slowly, he pressed his bleeding hand onto the page.
The platinum-haired man did not display any emotion through this whole process. "I am Lichensith Ulroké. You may call me Master." He stated impassively. "Welcome, Erikar, to The Order of the Crimson Hands."
The following is a list of spoils collected from this thread to be given to The Order of the Crimson Hand's Vault:
“Siren’s Song” - An iron dagger enchanted to vibrate at high speeds. This has been seen to cut through flesh with relative ease. It can be distinguished by its singing which, when by itself sounds like a tuning fork, in combat sounds like a woman singing a single notes of music that change depending on what the blade has made contact with.
“Flash Shield” – An iron bracer worn on the arm and reinforced to block with. When an attack makes contact, the bracer flashes as bright as staring into the sun. Based on reports, the flash will need a 30 second cool-down.
“Anvil Smashers” – A pair of spidersilk gloves originally designed for blacksmiths when handling harder metals. These gloves seem to weigh down the wearer as if he were to be hefting five iron ingots in each hand (~35lbs). Although designed to be used for crafting, these pack quite the punch if the user can muster.
"Stepless Boots" - These boots, called "Stepless Boots", seem to be enchanted with some form of wind magic. The user can move without actually having to take a step. In combat, they dash along the ground as if gliding on ice. These boots are near silent.
All bunnying approved by Lye.
Tobias Stalt
01-28-14, 12:09 PM
Storytelling: 5 Throwing the reader right into the action, Erikar creates a scene and shows the thread's major focus. In this case, it's a direct altercation between Erikar and his hit. Erikar has a sense of no nonsense about his style in that respect; he would benefit from holding back information at the start and feeding the reader more as time progresses. Story is about hooking the reader and keeping them there. While consistently giving new information seems like a good method, eventually it becomes dry. I had a creative writing class in college once where a teacher said this to me: "if you can write a book where it never seems forced or drags on at points, you're doing better than most published authors right now. Realistically, there will always be filler in any writing that you do. The trick is to keep it pertinent, and to use it effectively to connect everything together." So while not everything seems meaningful or interesting, you should always have some purpose in everything you pen (regardless of how short or long.) Additionally, he picked up the spoils rather quickly and far too easily to be believable. Flesh out your writing more and learn to slow down.
Pacing: 6 As mentioned previously, Erikar seemed to rush through and do too much all at once. The read suffered because he did not invest as much detail and effort as he could have into everything from beginning to end. Jumping from the start of the thread immediately into the altercation with Ja'al made little sense, especially since Ja'al ended up being his prime target. It was far too blatant to pass for coincidence.
Setting: 6 This point was slightly stronger for Erikar: he had a firm grasp of where his character was and what was going on around him. That everything bled together did make it less powerful than it could have been, but he showed a talent for staying true to his surroundings. Everything from Erikar flying through glass to passing out and waking up in someone's home. (Though there could have been a better utilized way of connecting the fall with where he woke up.)
Communication: 7 Erikar did not struggle with communication between npcs, himself or Lye. There were places he could have improved by alluding to things rather than directly stating them (show, don't tell), but overall it was well used.
Action: 5 Much weaker than it could have been, Erikar's action was stale in the places that lacked fighting. The character seemed to be monotonous when not in the throes of combat, and the author was struggling to move him from one place to the next when it didn't involve a heart pounding jump or a quick knife thrust. The transitions during the fight were also choppy in places. "They dueled for a moment..." The fight built up, but in a way it also did not. The reader is given the promise of excitement, and the fight just... happens. Granted, the eloquence of combative prose is among the most difficult to master; I firmly believe there is a strong building block upon which Erikar can build. This thread alone shows the willingness and interest, as with the pace and Storytelling, all Erikar needs to do is spend the time.
Persona: 6 A reader can see what Erikar is thinking and where his conflicts and reservations are, but they are one dimensional and not fully developed. Though he is a well thought out character, he suffers from the haste of the thread and is not allowed to fully show his strongest attributes. As well, you built up the thread and it almost seemed anticlimactic at the end. You fulfilled your contract and got successfully blooded in to the organization, but what we're Erikar's motives for wanting to join? What gripped him and made him think, "huh, this is something I want to do?" I can see the desire of the author to get the initiation out of the way, but the character himself being initiated was pretty lackluster.
Technique: 5 The strong use of metaphors and descriptors is evident, but they are not woven well with other techniques for full effect. Also, because the story was forced forward so quickly, some of them lost their intended impact altogether. At that point, some of the speech seemed forced or out of place. Also, try to mix it up more. He did this. He did that. He went here. He went there. Several of your paragraphs start with the format "He (did something)." This heavily detracts from the read, and shows a weakness in variation.
Mechanics: 7 For the most part, Erikar had a strong structure and his sentences were well formed. The sentences could have been more effectual in some places and less forced in others, but they had no real clerical or mechanical issues.
Clarity: 5 Again, rushing blurred lines in clarity. There were clear pauses and situation shifts through punctuation and progression, but because of how quickly it all occurred, the depth and focus of the story were weakened. Essentially, the story made its point, but did so in a substantially weaker way than it could have. Erik could have capitalized by using more imagery, telling the reader more, getting us deeper into the character's head- there were so many tactics he could have used to add meat to the bones.
Wildcard: 8 Out of fairness, I was extremely critical to Erikar's writing. I wanted to give him an idea of what things he could work on and places where he was lacking. Because the story was his first on the site and because it was an initiation, I'm throwing a ten his way to counterbalance my venomous scores.
Final Score: 60/100
Erikar receives:
1700 EXP!
228 Gold!
Lye has requested his Gold and Exp be given to Erikar.
Congratulations!
EXP & GP Added! Thread pending review for spoils.
RoG restricted spoils to only the Siren's Song, and Flash Shield. Avil Smashers and Stepless Boots will have to be purchased separately if wanted.
Erikar's GP spoils will also be reduced to 3GP.
Adjustments have been made to points.
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