Out Of Session: Ambush - Markus Duchèsne

The two of them made a break for it, moving directly towards the four aggressors. Glancing to his left, Markus saw Yeaf perform a move he had seen him use a few days before. Planting the end of his shortened staff firmly on the ground, he managed to vault one of the attackers off the roof. Markus' strike on the foe closest to him was less graceful, a brutal upward thrust of his shortsword tearing through the solar plexus, piercing the enemies heart. It was an unexpected attack and all more effective as a result. this uncharacteristic moment of decisiveness gave the two companions the minute window of opportunity needed to race past the two remaining assailants.

A few moments later they were upon the hooded figure, undoubtedly the author of this attack. The four men they had engaged moments ago hired thugs. the figure held the sack snatched from the two companions minutes earlier. As Markus sprinted past the figure he was able to snag the sack with the end of his sword. In one swift movement, the sack was torn away from the assailants hands and flipped effortlessly to the waiting yeaf.

An eight foot leap across to the next rooftop and the two friends would be free from their attackers. They leapt almost simultaneously, but Markus was the only one to land. He snapped his head backwards to see what had happened. Yaef was clinging to the edge of the building, but within moments he had shifted from this prone position managing to swing his leg up and heaved his tried body onto the edge of the roof.

Markus shook his head, "That was far too close for comfort. I thought you we supposed to be the better jumper".
Yeaf smiled, "evidently not, but then again, you didn't get hit by a bolt".

Markus scanned Yeaf's body and sure enough, there was a wound on his left thigh. Nothing serious, but enough to put someone off their stride.

Markus let out a tired sigh, "Let's get out of here, this job's been one disaster after another".
Yeaf started to stand, "I agree, I need a hot meal and several hours sle-".

A twang of a bow string, followed by the head of a bolt protruding out of Yeaf's chest. In almost slow motion Yeaf fell backwards off the roof.

Markus stood dumbstruck, frozen where he stood. In the distance the hooded figure recede into the darkness crossbow in hand. Slowly he made his way to the edge of the roof. There in the ally below lay the broken body of Yeaf. Tears began to flow openly down Markus' cheeks.

No hot meal for you my friend, but sleep and rest assured, you will be avenged.

Markus carried the body of his fallen comrade to the nearest temple. He left him and some coin, at foot of the steps for the cleric's to find.

They will take care of you and give you a proper burial. I will visit from time to time if the gods will it. Farewell my friend.

Session VIII: The Thought Eater, Part III - Eriamas Delvito

Click Clock...went the lock.

Eriamas winked at Yaef. Sliding the tools into a concealed side pocket in his black leather armour.

It was the confidence boost Eriamas had been looking for. He had been avoiding the gang after his fall and had only come out of hiding after hearing from Markus that they'd come by an item of great and disturbing power.

Eriamas detected a glimer of a smile behind Yaef's usually pained expression. He'd softened to Yaef recently. He believed he'd misjudged him and that he was skilled enough to more than contribute to their exploits.

They stepped into the bookshop, opened their bags and started piling books and scrolls into them.

"These books are empty" Yeaf remarked
"almost like.." He paused
"The knowledge has been taken from them"

A groan and crash came from the upstairs room.

They both stopped and looked up. Eriamas pointed to the stairs pulling one of his blades from his thigh strap...

Session VIII: The Thought Eater, Part II - Markus Duchèsne

Things are becoming dangerous, we shouldn't have taken the book. I should never have read out that name. What was I thinking... I wasn't! That's exactly why I always get into 'situations'. That name... what was that name.

Yeaf and Markus made their way by torchlight through the dark cramped tunnel which lead to the heart of the hideout. They walked in silence, both pondering the same questions. Was this place still safe? had the stranger managed to delve deep enough inside Lugus' mind to discover this location? Time would of course tell.

Eriamas sat waiting for them in the main room of the hideout. Sitting by him at the large oak table was Jeroth, eagerly eating a huge plate sausages and eggs. Markus walked to where Jeroth sat, helped himself to a sausage and took a seat.

"It's been a while Jeroth, where have you been hiding yourself my friend?" asked Markus.

Jeroth smiled, "Nowhere particularly exciting to be honest, but it was well paid and I got to see some of the countryside". It would seem like you've been busy while I've been away."

"That's one way of putting it." Markus sighed. "By the way, the handsome fellow over there's Yeaf."

From the corner of his eye, Markus noticed Yeaf's hand relax from where he believed he kept one of his daggers.

We've become steady friends over the last few months, but he's still very nervous around strangers and that could lead to trouble, or worse.

Yeaf nodded a greeting toward Jeroth, turned once more and resumed his conversation with Eriamas.

Markus helped himself to a second sausage. "I realise you've only just returned to the city, but we could always use another pair of hands".

"As Always Markus, you can count me in." Jeroth's smile broadened.

The Allies Of The Dark One

Wakuld long ago travelled out beyond the world into the void beyond the dwellings of the Star People where there is no light. In the void he revelled in his own thoughts and experimented with unknown magics. He found a way to travel into the deep places where the Others dwell and there sought allies against his family. Amongst these allies were the poisoner (Elis Morg), the destroyer (Cormesht), the curse (Ilfathis) and the eater of thoughts.

Little is known of the last being except that it revelled amongst the peoples of the world stealing thoughts and drinking dreams. Those that worshipped and gave all of themselves were allowed to drink of the stolen thoughts and dreams of others gaining much lost knowledge but at the cost of some of their very essential selves. Some say that, like Cormesht the destroyer, the thought eater died in one of the Gods' Wars. Others however suggest that he has simply eaten the very idea of himself from the minds of most men so he cannot be found as he swallows up the wisdom of the ages in places we have forgotten.

The Guild Of Courtesans

Silasarin smiled slowly as the servant poured more warm oil onto her and began to rub at the knot in her lower back.

"So tell me again who they are, Menra. These youngsters that beat you to the prize."

Menra stood uncomfortably straight in a dim corner of the opulent room trying to resist the urge to twist the end of her ponytail where it hung down over her shoulder. How many times would Silasarin get her to repeat the details of how young and inexperienced these boys were who had tricked her and her sisters out of their score. She would get even with them all one by one. First she would kill that drunken mark that had attacked her sister Lissa claiming they had something to do with the theft and then she would find a way to mess up those boys and their little club.

"Well, Mistress. They are a mixed group of ruffians and trouble makers who seem to be organising themselves. From what we've seen they're rich boys playing at being thieves..."

Silasarin interrupted her with a sigh and said,
"Yes, yes dear. Even so I think they might have some promise and if they can mix things up in the dung heap. Well then we might yet profit. I want you to forget about them for now and I will make arrangements to get someone on the inside." Silasarin smiled with satisfaction as Menra fidgeted with anger.
"I have another job for you dear. I want you to look into this new group in the Iron Hills calling themselves Her Lamp Bearers. They seem to be a group of political agitators. They want to change the social order and put the working man in charge or some such inflamatory nonsense. Take a couple of your sisters and head out there tomorrow."

"Yes Mistress. May the silver light fall upon you." Menra bent stiffly and stepped backwards out of the room. Her jaw clenched around her protests. Damn it all, an assignment outside the city was yet another sign of disfavour. Someone will pay for this.