Doppelganger
12-01-06, 02:51 AM
As my character is, in actuality, two characters, this 'solo' quest will play out a little differently than others. I'll be alternating posts between the perspective of the 'real' Eltrian and the 'shadow' Eltrian. To make it easier for the reader to keep track of which perspective they're reading, I'll put every other post in the "Dark slate gray" color (which I hope will be pretty easy to see in each of the different forum layouts, though those of you who use 'Dark' may find it easier to switch to 'evonature' or 'default'.)
It was late afternoon when Eltrian dragged himself wearily into the town of Uthia, near the border of Scara Brae’s Brokenthorn Forest. All that day, he had tracked his shadow through the forest to the west, and he was beginning to worry that he would have to spend the night among the trees again. The occasional night out in the wild was fine; the cool, damp air beneath the branches was refreshing, and he slept more restfully there than anyplace else. But too many nights outside in a row left Eltrian in want of a soft bed in a warm room where he could rest after a hot meal.
Uthia was quiet as the sun’s rays began to angle more steeply, casting long shadows framed in orange light along the ground. The activities of the day were coming to a close as twilight drew near; soon, nighttime would breathe a different life into the small town as workers sat down to drink, eat, and trade stories from their day.
Eltrian tried not to attract too much attention; there was never any way to know how easily he’d be recognized, and Scara Brae’s close alliance with Corone kept him constantly vigilant for any figures of authority whose gaze lingered on him too long. He could not afford to go back to Corone, not yet, and was reminded again that eventually he would need to leave Scara Brae as well. He preferred not to linger in the house of his enemy’s ally. For now, however, only a few townsfolk walked the streets, and while one or two eyed him suspiciously none approached.
Making his way to a nearby tavern, he examined its façade. The sign was a green cutout of a tall tree, bearing the words “Oak Tree Inn” meticulously painted in gold across its branches. Eltrian stepped inside; as he expected, the inn was like most others to be found in Scara Brae, and anywhere else for that matter. Dark wooden tables, a long bar with a portly, balding bartender, and a smattering of grungy looking men hiding from the rays of the waning sun. Several of these looked up as he came in, but quickly returned to their conversations.
Eltrian slumped down at the bar, resting his elbows on its edge and laying one arm over the other. Expecting at least a greeting from the bartender, instead he found himself being pointedly ignored. The little man behind the bar stood off to one side, peering at Eltrian from the corner of his eye as he continued to polish a glass that was already more than clean enough. Eltrian was about to say something when he felt a presence behind him.
Two of the men who, moments ago, were seated at a corner table, now stood next to Eltrian’s bar stool, cutting off his escape. One was short and stocky, bald with his eyes set close together. He wore only a vest on his upper body, apparently letting his well-muscled arms provide an introduction on his behalf. The other was a bit more… withered; Eltrian guessed he was in his forties, but those forty years must have been unkind ones to produce the wrinkled face, stringy hair, and yellowed teeth that now stood before him.
The men stared at Eltrian. Eltrian blinked.
“Have our money already, do you?” asked the thinner man in a voice that sounded even more withered than he looked, “That was faster than you mentioned. You said eight o’clock, so I was going to send Bernard here after you at six. No offense, of course, but usually when someone says something like that, it means they’re about to skip town. Good thing for you, you’re a man of your word. And low and behold, here you are before the money’s even due!” The man slapped Eltrian companionably on the back and offered what was probably supposed to be a sincere smile.
Eltrian peered first at Bernard, who scrunched up his face, giving himself the squash-nosed appearance of a pug dog. He turned his face to the other man, and stared at him blankly for a moment.
“Do I know you two?” Eltrian asked finally.
“Aw, now don’t start playing games with us, Eltrian. You spent the better part of the day trying to do that, and that’s how you ended up owing so much. How could you have forgotten your pals Bernard and Tabor, after we were kind enough to cover you for the last few hands of the game?”
Eltrian cleared his throat. “And… exactly how much do you say I owe?”
Bernard leaned in closer, scrunching up his face even more. “Sixty-five gold, twelve silver, and four copper pieces.”
Eltrian nodded slowly as if pondering this amount. “Look, Tabor and… Bertram, was it? I know how this is going to sound, but I’m not who you think I am. You’re making a mistake.”
Tabor drew himself up to his full height indignantly. “Is that so? So you are not Eltrian Cadarius from the town of Jadet on the continent of Corone? And you did not play a series of card games with Bernard and myself earlier today, during which time you lost every hand and later promised to get us the money you owe by eight o’clock tonight?”
“Hmm… Yes to the first part, no to the second. Please, gentlemen, the man you saw earlier was an imposter, trying to make me look bad. The only reason he didn’t kill you was so you’d cause trouble for me later on, so just be glad that you’ve still got your lives and leave me alone.” With that, Eltrian turned back around and tried to catch the attention of the bartender.
Bernard quickly grabbed the collar of Eltrian’s jacket and hoisted him up from his seat, shoving him back against the bar. “Do you think we’re stupid or something?”
“Don’t ask questions if you know you won’t like the answer,” Eltrian snapped back, prying Bernard’s hands off his jacket, “I told you that the man you saw earlier was an impostor. I don’t care if you believe it or not. I just came in here for a drink and a place to sleep. You want your money, you head to the next town and catch the man posing as me. I want nothing to do with you.”
Snarling, Bernard knelt down momentarily to retrieve a knife from his boot, but before he could rise fully, Eltrian’s knee found its way to the man’s ribcage. Winded, Bernard reeled from the blow. Eltrian followed up quickly with an uppercut to the jaw, and watched as Bernard toppled backwards to the floor.
Catching a hint of movement out of the corner of his eye, Eltrian stepped back quickly and drew his sword from its scabbard. Its tip came to rest near Tabor’s throat, and the man froze where he stood.
“I told you the truth,” Eltrian said finally, “It is not my responsibility to convince you of that, it is your responsibility to realize it. I am not the man you are looking for. Next time, don’t believe your eyes so easily.”
Backing away slowly, Eltrian sheathed his sword and made for the building’s rear entrance, emerging in an alleyway. By now, the sun’s last rays were gone, though the sky still clung to the last pinkish hues of twilight. Wrapping himself in his cape, he made his way quickly towards the street.
It was late afternoon when Eltrian dragged himself wearily into the town of Uthia, near the border of Scara Brae’s Brokenthorn Forest. All that day, he had tracked his shadow through the forest to the west, and he was beginning to worry that he would have to spend the night among the trees again. The occasional night out in the wild was fine; the cool, damp air beneath the branches was refreshing, and he slept more restfully there than anyplace else. But too many nights outside in a row left Eltrian in want of a soft bed in a warm room where he could rest after a hot meal.
Uthia was quiet as the sun’s rays began to angle more steeply, casting long shadows framed in orange light along the ground. The activities of the day were coming to a close as twilight drew near; soon, nighttime would breathe a different life into the small town as workers sat down to drink, eat, and trade stories from their day.
Eltrian tried not to attract too much attention; there was never any way to know how easily he’d be recognized, and Scara Brae’s close alliance with Corone kept him constantly vigilant for any figures of authority whose gaze lingered on him too long. He could not afford to go back to Corone, not yet, and was reminded again that eventually he would need to leave Scara Brae as well. He preferred not to linger in the house of his enemy’s ally. For now, however, only a few townsfolk walked the streets, and while one or two eyed him suspiciously none approached.
Making his way to a nearby tavern, he examined its façade. The sign was a green cutout of a tall tree, bearing the words “Oak Tree Inn” meticulously painted in gold across its branches. Eltrian stepped inside; as he expected, the inn was like most others to be found in Scara Brae, and anywhere else for that matter. Dark wooden tables, a long bar with a portly, balding bartender, and a smattering of grungy looking men hiding from the rays of the waning sun. Several of these looked up as he came in, but quickly returned to their conversations.
Eltrian slumped down at the bar, resting his elbows on its edge and laying one arm over the other. Expecting at least a greeting from the bartender, instead he found himself being pointedly ignored. The little man behind the bar stood off to one side, peering at Eltrian from the corner of his eye as he continued to polish a glass that was already more than clean enough. Eltrian was about to say something when he felt a presence behind him.
Two of the men who, moments ago, were seated at a corner table, now stood next to Eltrian’s bar stool, cutting off his escape. One was short and stocky, bald with his eyes set close together. He wore only a vest on his upper body, apparently letting his well-muscled arms provide an introduction on his behalf. The other was a bit more… withered; Eltrian guessed he was in his forties, but those forty years must have been unkind ones to produce the wrinkled face, stringy hair, and yellowed teeth that now stood before him.
The men stared at Eltrian. Eltrian blinked.
“Have our money already, do you?” asked the thinner man in a voice that sounded even more withered than he looked, “That was faster than you mentioned. You said eight o’clock, so I was going to send Bernard here after you at six. No offense, of course, but usually when someone says something like that, it means they’re about to skip town. Good thing for you, you’re a man of your word. And low and behold, here you are before the money’s even due!” The man slapped Eltrian companionably on the back and offered what was probably supposed to be a sincere smile.
Eltrian peered first at Bernard, who scrunched up his face, giving himself the squash-nosed appearance of a pug dog. He turned his face to the other man, and stared at him blankly for a moment.
“Do I know you two?” Eltrian asked finally.
“Aw, now don’t start playing games with us, Eltrian. You spent the better part of the day trying to do that, and that’s how you ended up owing so much. How could you have forgotten your pals Bernard and Tabor, after we were kind enough to cover you for the last few hands of the game?”
Eltrian cleared his throat. “And… exactly how much do you say I owe?”
Bernard leaned in closer, scrunching up his face even more. “Sixty-five gold, twelve silver, and four copper pieces.”
Eltrian nodded slowly as if pondering this amount. “Look, Tabor and… Bertram, was it? I know how this is going to sound, but I’m not who you think I am. You’re making a mistake.”
Tabor drew himself up to his full height indignantly. “Is that so? So you are not Eltrian Cadarius from the town of Jadet on the continent of Corone? And you did not play a series of card games with Bernard and myself earlier today, during which time you lost every hand and later promised to get us the money you owe by eight o’clock tonight?”
“Hmm… Yes to the first part, no to the second. Please, gentlemen, the man you saw earlier was an imposter, trying to make me look bad. The only reason he didn’t kill you was so you’d cause trouble for me later on, so just be glad that you’ve still got your lives and leave me alone.” With that, Eltrian turned back around and tried to catch the attention of the bartender.
Bernard quickly grabbed the collar of Eltrian’s jacket and hoisted him up from his seat, shoving him back against the bar. “Do you think we’re stupid or something?”
“Don’t ask questions if you know you won’t like the answer,” Eltrian snapped back, prying Bernard’s hands off his jacket, “I told you that the man you saw earlier was an impostor. I don’t care if you believe it or not. I just came in here for a drink and a place to sleep. You want your money, you head to the next town and catch the man posing as me. I want nothing to do with you.”
Snarling, Bernard knelt down momentarily to retrieve a knife from his boot, but before he could rise fully, Eltrian’s knee found its way to the man’s ribcage. Winded, Bernard reeled from the blow. Eltrian followed up quickly with an uppercut to the jaw, and watched as Bernard toppled backwards to the floor.
Catching a hint of movement out of the corner of his eye, Eltrian stepped back quickly and drew his sword from its scabbard. Its tip came to rest near Tabor’s throat, and the man froze where he stood.
“I told you the truth,” Eltrian said finally, “It is not my responsibility to convince you of that, it is your responsibility to realize it. I am not the man you are looking for. Next time, don’t believe your eyes so easily.”
Backing away slowly, Eltrian sheathed his sword and made for the building’s rear entrance, emerging in an alleyway. By now, the sun’s last rays were gone, though the sky still clung to the last pinkish hues of twilight. Wrapping himself in his cape, he made his way quickly towards the street.