The bar was crowded. Of course, that was no surprise given the time of night, and the season. Not many warm days were usually left after the big harvests came in, and this one was rare indeed so late in the year. Men, dwarves and halflings had crowded into the Inn's small bar, filling the common area first, then the booths and tables his Da' had acquired over the years.
Pipes had been lit, tobacco rolled, and a heady cloud of smoke soon hung in the air, like a lazy snake sunning on a rock. Conversation that had started out quiet, and cheerful had quickly turned boisterous and loud as cold drink loosened their inhibitions.
Jace was working the door-something that amused Torin to no end. It wasn't that he wasn't attentive, its just that he was concerned about other things. Torin knew everyone in here by name. It wasn't because he was smarter, it was just that he paid more attention to that sort of thing. Jace was more concerned about contemplating life's mysteries, and the nature of good and evil. Torin didn't really put that much thought into that sort of stuff-it just made his headache. He was more worried about the here and now, about money.
He thought again about the money and equipment he'd been slowly squirreling away. For over a year now he'd been slowly purchasing a number of items he'd soon be using. One more winter. One more winter and next summer he was free to do as he pleased. That was the promise they'd made.
Torin Proud
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Torin Proud
- Tasty Human
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- Joined: Mon Sep 13, 2004 5:41 am
- Location: Silverymoon, Toril
Torin Proud
Last edited by Torin Proud on Mon Jan 10, 2005 8:26 am, edited 3 times in total.
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Torin Proud
- Tasty Human
- Posts: 74
- Joined: Mon Sep 13, 2004 5:41 am
- Location: Silverymoon, Toril
"Torin! Torin!" His fathers voice interrupted his reverie. Milo Proud was a hard man, but he loved his sons. Torin and Jace were his pride but they didn't always bring him joy, Torin knew that.
"Yeah Da', I hear you." Torin smiled impishly. His father had caught him day dreaming too much of late-but that'd all soon change. "What?"
"Roll another barrel of my finest out for these fine Lords and Ladies, and be quick about it boyo!" He said loudly enough to bring a cheer from the crowd. They thought Milo a generous man, maybe even generous to a fault. The truth was of course far different. Milo wasa calculating man-honest enough, but Torin had yet to meet a man who could pinch a penny harder. Just loud enough for Torin to hear he continued, "The sludge in the back boy, you know which." With out waiting for any acknowledgement his father turned back to the crowd, his loud voice laughing and joking.
Torin didn't bother saying anything, he simply dropped the dish rag he'd been cleaning glasses with, and went through the door at the back of the bar. The noise of the bar muffled by the thick insulated walls, Torin took a second to just clear his thoughts. This winter seemed to have dragged on forever-but now! Now Spring was only three ten days away! And that meant he was only 30 days from freedom!
Twisting the keg from its spot in the corner he chuckled. His father had bought a batch of Ale that was so old, and piss thin from a merchant who claimed to have traveled from Thar with his wagon load of foul smelling brew. After realizing that his entire batch was far below local standards the man had been reduced to selling the entire load for far less than what he'd put into the trip to Waterdeep. His father had purchased the whole wagon load, and had spent the last six months dispensing the murky brew at the wee hours of the night, long after the patrons were so far in their cups that they'd never notice.
It'd been Torin's suggestion that they call it the House's finest! Jace had objected-but money had won out over honesty in the end. As he rolled the heavy barrel out to the bar he sighed. Three ten days and he'd be on the road to adventure!
"Yeah Da', I hear you." Torin smiled impishly. His father had caught him day dreaming too much of late-but that'd all soon change. "What?"
"Roll another barrel of my finest out for these fine Lords and Ladies, and be quick about it boyo!" He said loudly enough to bring a cheer from the crowd. They thought Milo a generous man, maybe even generous to a fault. The truth was of course far different. Milo wasa calculating man-honest enough, but Torin had yet to meet a man who could pinch a penny harder. Just loud enough for Torin to hear he continued, "The sludge in the back boy, you know which." With out waiting for any acknowledgement his father turned back to the crowd, his loud voice laughing and joking.
Torin didn't bother saying anything, he simply dropped the dish rag he'd been cleaning glasses with, and went through the door at the back of the bar. The noise of the bar muffled by the thick insulated walls, Torin took a second to just clear his thoughts. This winter seemed to have dragged on forever-but now! Now Spring was only three ten days away! And that meant he was only 30 days from freedom!
Twisting the keg from its spot in the corner he chuckled. His father had bought a batch of Ale that was so old, and piss thin from a merchant who claimed to have traveled from Thar with his wagon load of foul smelling brew. After realizing that his entire batch was far below local standards the man had been reduced to selling the entire load for far less than what he'd put into the trip to Waterdeep. His father had purchased the whole wagon load, and had spent the last six months dispensing the murky brew at the wee hours of the night, long after the patrons were so far in their cups that they'd never notice.
It'd been Torin's suggestion that they call it the House's finest! Jace had objected-but money had won out over honesty in the end. As he rolled the heavy barrel out to the bar he sighed. Three ten days and he'd be on the road to adventure!
Last edited by Torin Proud on Mon Sep 20, 2004 2:21 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Torin Proud
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- Joined: Mon Sep 13, 2004 5:41 am
- Location: Silverymoon, Toril
9 summers ago....
Torin knelt quickly, ducking back into the shadows just slightly. Jace was next to him, his movements louder and less controlled than Torin's. That was always the case though. Sometimes Torin wondered how exactly Jace planned on being a great warrior when he moved like an Ox at a summer dance?
Their target was a Calishite fruit vendor. Oranges, lemons and some sort of red fruit Torin didn't recognize were stacked on blocks of ice that had been made out of thin air by wizards. Each of the blocks had been exactly the same, identical cubes of frozen water, clearer than the Sea of Swords during the height of summer. Torin wondered sunconsciously if there was any danger from the magics...
It wasn't that Torin was afraid of magic. His Da' had taught him what little he knew about the mysterious wizards and clerics who used the fearsome force known as Magic. He'd supplemented this pittance with stories he'd overheard from travelers, and his relatively little first hand contact with Magic. If all spell casting was this, he was certainly glad he didn't have the talent. Making ice for fish and fruit vendors seemed even more boring than tending bar.
Suddenly Jace elbowed him. Torin nodded. It was time to get some oranges! The Calishite had his back turned to the two teenage halflings, arguing over the price of something in a language neither understood. The twins crept forward to the edge of the stand. Ripe oranges the size of their fists doubled up were stacked neatly, each a resplendant orange in color, and glistening in the morning sun with condensation.
Torin started from near the top, at the corner closest to him. He handed orange after orange to Jace. Quickly he filled jaces small sack, and then his own. With a look to make sure the Calishite was still arguing with his customer, the two halflings stood up quickly and intergrated themselves into the flow of the market crowd.
The first rule was look like you belonged. If you act guilty people would assume your guilty-but look like you belong, act like you know what you're doing, and people want to believe that too. Calmly they strode away from the Calishite vendor, smiling and looking about as if they were considering purchasing goods from various vendors, but couldn't since they had to deliver the contents of their bags to their father.
By the time the Calishite's scream of outrage went up, they were out of sight, smiling.
Their target was a Calishite fruit vendor. Oranges, lemons and some sort of red fruit Torin didn't recognize were stacked on blocks of ice that had been made out of thin air by wizards. Each of the blocks had been exactly the same, identical cubes of frozen water, clearer than the Sea of Swords during the height of summer. Torin wondered sunconsciously if there was any danger from the magics...
It wasn't that Torin was afraid of magic. His Da' had taught him what little he knew about the mysterious wizards and clerics who used the fearsome force known as Magic. He'd supplemented this pittance with stories he'd overheard from travelers, and his relatively little first hand contact with Magic. If all spell casting was this, he was certainly glad he didn't have the talent. Making ice for fish and fruit vendors seemed even more boring than tending bar.
Suddenly Jace elbowed him. Torin nodded. It was time to get some oranges! The Calishite had his back turned to the two teenage halflings, arguing over the price of something in a language neither understood. The twins crept forward to the edge of the stand. Ripe oranges the size of their fists doubled up were stacked neatly, each a resplendant orange in color, and glistening in the morning sun with condensation.
Torin started from near the top, at the corner closest to him. He handed orange after orange to Jace. Quickly he filled jaces small sack, and then his own. With a look to make sure the Calishite was still arguing with his customer, the two halflings stood up quickly and intergrated themselves into the flow of the market crowd.
The first rule was look like you belonged. If you act guilty people would assume your guilty-but look like you belong, act like you know what you're doing, and people want to believe that too. Calmly they strode away from the Calishite vendor, smiling and looking about as if they were considering purchasing goods from various vendors, but couldn't since they had to deliver the contents of their bags to their father.
By the time the Calishite's scream of outrage went up, they were out of sight, smiling.
Last edited by Torin Proud on Mon Sep 20, 2004 2:24 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Torin Proud
- Tasty Human
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- Joined: Mon Sep 13, 2004 5:41 am
- Location: Silverymoon, Toril
Their fingers were sticky from the oranges. They'd eaten them until they couldn't eat any more. They were just south of the city, along the beach in the high rocks. Laying on their backs the watched clouds pass over head as the sun set.
It was Jace who broke the silence. For a second Torin was disappointed.His brother seemed to have this compeling desire to state the obvious, and at times Torin could have clouted him.
"Da' would be plenty mad if he were to find out we was filching oranges from the market Torin." Jace could never just say it, could never seem to formt he word steal. That's what they had done of course-but for Jace it was always some childish word-filch, liberate, permanently reassign. He seemed to be able to ignore the darker parts of life, avoiding discussing it like he'd step around a steaming pile of dung.
"Well mayhaps, but Da' needn't know right?" Torins eyes were still closed. He was enjoying the last of the suns warm rays. Maybe Jace would shut up-but somehow he knew Jace was about to go off on one of his what does it all mean spiels. "I certainly won't be tellin' him."
For a few blissful seconds Jace was quiet. Just as Torin had managed to imagine what Tilly the bar maid looked like with out most her outer clothes on Jace opened his mouth.
"You ever think there is more to life than this Torin? I mean more than what's here at Waterdeep? Something bigger?" Torin kept quiet knowing his brother would continue whether he answered or not.
"Sometimes I wonder Torin-what the gods have in store for me." Jace sat up on his elbows, and looked at Torin. Torin could feel his brothers stare, but kept his eyes shut, and his mouth shut. He heard Jace stand, and opened his eyes slightly to see his brother standing at the edge of the cliff, his fists clenched at his side. His voice was calm when he spoke, with a quiet intensity that shook Torin to the center of his soul.
"Soemday Torin I'm going to be something more than a bar bouncer. Someday I'm going to be a warrior Torin. Someday I'll bring great glory to our family, and the gods." Torin stared at his brother, bewildered at his brothers trength of conviction. He relaized Jace really believed what he was saying. This wasn't idle talk, or empty promises. And in that moment Torin felt empty.
It was Jace who broke the silence. For a second Torin was disappointed.His brother seemed to have this compeling desire to state the obvious, and at times Torin could have clouted him.
"Da' would be plenty mad if he were to find out we was filching oranges from the market Torin." Jace could never just say it, could never seem to formt he word steal. That's what they had done of course-but for Jace it was always some childish word-filch, liberate, permanently reassign. He seemed to be able to ignore the darker parts of life, avoiding discussing it like he'd step around a steaming pile of dung.
"Well mayhaps, but Da' needn't know right?" Torins eyes were still closed. He was enjoying the last of the suns warm rays. Maybe Jace would shut up-but somehow he knew Jace was about to go off on one of his what does it all mean spiels. "I certainly won't be tellin' him."
For a few blissful seconds Jace was quiet. Just as Torin had managed to imagine what Tilly the bar maid looked like with out most her outer clothes on Jace opened his mouth.
"You ever think there is more to life than this Torin? I mean more than what's here at Waterdeep? Something bigger?" Torin kept quiet knowing his brother would continue whether he answered or not.
"Sometimes I wonder Torin-what the gods have in store for me." Jace sat up on his elbows, and looked at Torin. Torin could feel his brothers stare, but kept his eyes shut, and his mouth shut. He heard Jace stand, and opened his eyes slightly to see his brother standing at the edge of the cliff, his fists clenched at his side. His voice was calm when he spoke, with a quiet intensity that shook Torin to the center of his soul.
"Soemday Torin I'm going to be something more than a bar bouncer. Someday I'm going to be a warrior Torin. Someday I'll bring great glory to our family, and the gods." Torin stared at his brother, bewildered at his brothers trength of conviction. He relaized Jace really believed what he was saying. This wasn't idle talk, or empty promises. And in that moment Torin felt empty.
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Torin Proud
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Torin had thought about Jace's promise all day long-his shift behind the bar had passed in a blur. That night as he washed he kept mulling over Jaces words. Jace was in the tub next to him, scrubbing the smoke and grime off of his body.
"Jace."
Jace looked up at him with a grin. "We look like a couple of pigs that rolled in a puddle made from ale and stale weed brother!" His grin was infectous, and Torin smiled as he dried himself off.
"Jace I was thinking about what you said earlier. At the point." Jace looked up, his face suddenly serious.
"And?"
"I believe you Jace." Jace nodded, as if this was something he had expected. Well maybe he did expect it? Torin continued, his voice slightly unsteady. "I don't want to spend my whole life wondering...wondering if maybe I could have had more...more than this." His eyes indicated the Inn and their life, and Jace knew it. " I want to make my own way."
Jace nodded, and hefted himself out of the tub. Accepting a towel from Torin he began to dry himself. They'd made an unspoken promise. They wouldn't stay in Waterdeep forever-they'd each find their own way in life, something that'd make their Da' proud.
"Jace."
Jace looked up at him with a grin. "We look like a couple of pigs that rolled in a puddle made from ale and stale weed brother!" His grin was infectous, and Torin smiled as he dried himself off.
"Jace I was thinking about what you said earlier. At the point." Jace looked up, his face suddenly serious.
"And?"
"I believe you Jace." Jace nodded, as if this was something he had expected. Well maybe he did expect it? Torin continued, his voice slightly unsteady. "I don't want to spend my whole life wondering...wondering if maybe I could have had more...more than this." His eyes indicated the Inn and their life, and Jace knew it. " I want to make my own way."
Jace nodded, and hefted himself out of the tub. Accepting a towel from Torin he began to dry himself. They'd made an unspoken promise. They wouldn't stay in Waterdeep forever-they'd each find their own way in life, something that'd make their Da' proud.
Last edited by Torin Proud on Sat Sep 18, 2004 12:20 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Torin Proud
- Tasty Human
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- Joined: Mon Sep 13, 2004 5:41 am
- Location: Silverymoon, Toril
Seven Summers past.
Torin twirled his hands through her hair, his fingers relishing in its silky thickness. Each strand so different from the last-for a brief second Torin wondered if it was some sort of metaphor for life. His thoughts were interrupted by the soft groan of Tilly waking.
Her body was stretched across his, nude, limbs entwined with his own. A sheet was tangled across their limbs-a scene that would have caused no end of consternation amongst any of the humans at the inn. There was something about the child like proportions of the so called "little people" that reminded so many humans of their own children. Torin grinned. How many seven year olds were built quite like this nubile woman he now held in his arms? Hopefully he thought wryly, not too many-for their Da's sake.
Tilly's eyes were half closed, and her lips were curled in a half smile. Torin stroked her hair as she rubbed her body across his-their flesh warm; flush from the nights activities.
"What are you thinkin' about Torin?" Her voice was sensual, her eyes half closed but staring at Torin with an intensity he failed to recognize. Torin'd fail a crucial test this evening, but he didn't know that yet.
Cloing his eyes he spoke. "I was thinking about the gulls that scavenge along the beach." His words were quiet, spoken softly into her ears, her silky hair catching on the moisture of his lips at time, until he spoke again. "They live their whole lives waiting. Waiting for someone or something to wash up on the shore. They gorge themselves on anything that happens to unlucky enough to fall into their greedy little beaks. I was thinking about how so many people are just like that. Greedy, but complacent. They wait for life to make them fat."
For a second Tilly reconsidered the man she'd allowed to take her to his bed. Torin had always been a bit different than Jace. Jace, who so strong, and proud. His head always held high, his voice strong and loud. His manners hindered only by his shy ineptitude around women. But not Torin.
Torin always had something clever to say, a wink of the eye or a nod of the head when it was appropriate. He was able to tease the bar lasses mercilessly at times, and in the next breath have them breaking into fits of glae force laughter. He seemmed to effortlessly make people comfortable around him-able to talk and joke. As a bartender he was unrivaled-he always knew his customers by name after a first introduction was made, and never forgot what they drank or how. He always seemed to be there with a fresh drink and a smile. He could tell the tallest tales, and swear like a sailor when he needed to-but Tilly had noticed very early on that there was something missing in his eyes. A disconnect. Torin connected with people but they never seemed to connect with him.
She had watched him from afar,taking note of his reserved eyes, and smile that never seemed to touch his eyes. Slowly he took notice of her attentions, at first a bit mystified, but finally intrigued. For two years they had courted-secretive smiles and lingering caresses traded in the crowded tavern.
Now she'd finally let him take her into his bed.
Her body was stretched across his, nude, limbs entwined with his own. A sheet was tangled across their limbs-a scene that would have caused no end of consternation amongst any of the humans at the inn. There was something about the child like proportions of the so called "little people" that reminded so many humans of their own children. Torin grinned. How many seven year olds were built quite like this nubile woman he now held in his arms? Hopefully he thought wryly, not too many-for their Da's sake.
Tilly's eyes were half closed, and her lips were curled in a half smile. Torin stroked her hair as she rubbed her body across his-their flesh warm; flush from the nights activities.
"What are you thinkin' about Torin?" Her voice was sensual, her eyes half closed but staring at Torin with an intensity he failed to recognize. Torin'd fail a crucial test this evening, but he didn't know that yet.
Cloing his eyes he spoke. "I was thinking about the gulls that scavenge along the beach." His words were quiet, spoken softly into her ears, her silky hair catching on the moisture of his lips at time, until he spoke again. "They live their whole lives waiting. Waiting for someone or something to wash up on the shore. They gorge themselves on anything that happens to unlucky enough to fall into their greedy little beaks. I was thinking about how so many people are just like that. Greedy, but complacent. They wait for life to make them fat."
For a second Tilly reconsidered the man she'd allowed to take her to his bed. Torin had always been a bit different than Jace. Jace, who so strong, and proud. His head always held high, his voice strong and loud. His manners hindered only by his shy ineptitude around women. But not Torin.
Torin always had something clever to say, a wink of the eye or a nod of the head when it was appropriate. He was able to tease the bar lasses mercilessly at times, and in the next breath have them breaking into fits of glae force laughter. He seemmed to effortlessly make people comfortable around him-able to talk and joke. As a bartender he was unrivaled-he always knew his customers by name after a first introduction was made, and never forgot what they drank or how. He always seemed to be there with a fresh drink and a smile. He could tell the tallest tales, and swear like a sailor when he needed to-but Tilly had noticed very early on that there was something missing in his eyes. A disconnect. Torin connected with people but they never seemed to connect with him.
She had watched him from afar,taking note of his reserved eyes, and smile that never seemed to touch his eyes. Slowly he took notice of her attentions, at first a bit mystified, but finally intrigued. For two years they had courted-secretive smiles and lingering caresses traded in the crowded tavern.
Now she'd finally let him take her into his bed.
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Torin Proud
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"That's horrible." Her eyes were fully open now, staring into his half closed lids. His eyes were murky, his mind somewhere else. "Why...what would make you think of that Torin?"
For a second the only sound in the room was their quiet breathing. Then his eyes closed fully, and his smile spread across his face-still not quite to his eyes she noticed. "Think noting of it, 'twas a passing thought, and nothing more. I'd much rather discuss the beauty at hand, than the ravages of the rest of the world."
Moving his hands down her body slowly he caressed her back and shoulders, softly at first-but his hands working deeper into her tired flesha nd muscles with each squeezing motion. His lips kissed softly along her neck, and all thoughts of Torin's twisted vision were pushed aside...
...later as they dressed she faced Torin. His back was turned towards her, his broad back and shoulders for the first time making her realize that he was nearly the same size as Jace. There was more to him than met the eye.
"When are you leaving Torin?" He froze, his hands slowly droppingg from the buttons on his shirt. Turninf slowly he looked her in the eyes, his smile gone, but no anger was there. Finally he nodded, realizing she'd known-somehow.
"As soon as I can. Likely a few more summers." She nodded her head, and finished pulling her slippers on. A single tear slowly formed, like a ball of fire in her eye. Torin moved across the room with an unnatural quickness, and clasped her hands in his. "Please Tilly...."
Tilly looked up forcing a smile to her face, she wiped the lonely tear away pn her shoulder. Pulling her hands form his, and spoke softly. "Don't."
"But..." She pressed a finger to his lips, gently hushing him.
"Sometimes Torin the truth is worth more than all the gold in any kings treasurery. Do you understand?"
He nodded, and when she had left wondered if life was always this painful?
For a second the only sound in the room was their quiet breathing. Then his eyes closed fully, and his smile spread across his face-still not quite to his eyes she noticed. "Think noting of it, 'twas a passing thought, and nothing more. I'd much rather discuss the beauty at hand, than the ravages of the rest of the world."
Moving his hands down her body slowly he caressed her back and shoulders, softly at first-but his hands working deeper into her tired flesha nd muscles with each squeezing motion. His lips kissed softly along her neck, and all thoughts of Torin's twisted vision were pushed aside...
...later as they dressed she faced Torin. His back was turned towards her, his broad back and shoulders for the first time making her realize that he was nearly the same size as Jace. There was more to him than met the eye.
"When are you leaving Torin?" He froze, his hands slowly droppingg from the buttons on his shirt. Turninf slowly he looked her in the eyes, his smile gone, but no anger was there. Finally he nodded, realizing she'd known-somehow.
"As soon as I can. Likely a few more summers." She nodded her head, and finished pulling her slippers on. A single tear slowly formed, like a ball of fire in her eye. Torin moved across the room with an unnatural quickness, and clasped her hands in his. "Please Tilly...."
Tilly looked up forcing a smile to her face, she wiped the lonely tear away pn her shoulder. Pulling her hands form his, and spoke softly. "Don't."
"But..." She pressed a finger to his lips, gently hushing him.
"Sometimes Torin the truth is worth more than all the gold in any kings treasurery. Do you understand?"
He nodded, and when she had left wondered if life was always this painful?
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Torin Proud
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Five summers past...
Torin stood just behind the men, listening quietly. He had crept up along the wall behind them, a process that seemed to last for hours-although it had only really taken minutes. He had taken great care to keep inside the deep shadows of the alleyway, which was crowded with every sort of refuse and debris. An offhand thought had kept his mind working as he worked his way forward-how did anyone live this deep in the city? Garbage was everywhere, filthy beggars lined the streets, even during cold fall evenings like this one. Pushing the thought aside he had concentrated on making each footfall as silent as a wraith's fart.
Finally he reached the point he had set out to reach-a large broken crate jsut behind the two men. Both were keaning against it, talking to each other in hushed tones. He had spotted them on the walk he took each evening, after the Inn's bar closed. He knew that he was still cloaked in the smells of the bar-sweat, smoke and drink. Something that didn't seem too out of place given the state of this alley.
As he had set out on his walk he had spotted two men, both dressed in Northreners garb-thick tunics, with heavy boots lined in fur, and pale skin that looked all too like the wintery lands they called home. Something about their posture, their gait had said out of towners to Torin. It was then that he decided this would the perfect time to test his slowly evolving bag of tricks.
As he had shadowed the two men through the streets he quickly realized his instincts had been correct. There was something suspicous about them-they were definitely looking for people following them. But like so many humans they looked at shoulder level, never thinking to look down. Torin almost snorted. Just because we're small, he thought, doesn't mean we're stupid...
He had easily paced along beside them at times, behind them at others. No one seemed to pay him much attention. The more he followed them, the surer he was that they were definitely from out of town, and up to something. Had Jace been there, he'd have surely said something stupid, Torin thought, like 'Their up to no good Torin!' Well of course they are, he grinned, isn't everyone?
When they had stopped he realized they weren't completely stupid. They had picked a spot with relatively clear approaches-at least for anything Dwarf sized or larger. As they both leaned against the crate he had considered his options. Curiousity had finally won out, and Torin quickly sought out an approach.
As he neared the crate he could start to make out their voices, luckily they were speaking in the common tongue, or else this whole evening would have been doublely frustrating.
"...that bastard! He'll not live to regret this!" The man on the left was barely speaking louder than the gentle breeze that chilled the city slightly, but loud enough for Torin's sharp ears. The anger in the humans voice was palpable, almost scary. Torin was too caught up in the moment to think that far ahead though.
"Easy brother. We'll take care of this..." The man on the right was obviously older. His posture was slightly stooped, although his shoulders were ox like in their width. He was, Torin suddenly noticed, carrying a large knife in an ornate sheath. His left hand rested on it, a practiced motion Torin realized, one he had done numberless times. This man was a warrior of some sort.
"No, enough!" The younger man held himself erect, his back ramrod straight. He was obviously of higher social stature than the older man. He was well over six feet tall, but not nearly as thick as the older man. Dropping his voice slightly, the man continued, clamer this time. "We'll not beg for their money. We'll simply take it."
"Surely you can't be serious Jorus?" Torin almost laughed, as it was he had a really hard time not snorting. Why was it that people had a hard time believing the obvious? Torin had heard the man just as well the oldster, and he knew the younger human was serious.
"Take Cryn and Horth. Cut out his liver. Take th emoney. All of it. Find out where he has hidden the goods. We can't wait any longer." With out waiting the younger man turned his back on the oldster, and walked away into the night.
For the longest time the oldster simply sat there, and for a brief second Torin wondered if the old man had simply expired. Finally the oldster spoke aloud, and briefly Torin was ready to panic, thinking the man had spotted him, but then he realized the man was simply thinking aloud.
"Damn you and your impatience. Damn you Jorus." Hefting himself off the crate with a groan the man started to limp into the night, leaving Torin with two choices. As he set off after the old man, he realized there had never really been a choice at all...
Finally he reached the point he had set out to reach-a large broken crate jsut behind the two men. Both were keaning against it, talking to each other in hushed tones. He had spotted them on the walk he took each evening, after the Inn's bar closed. He knew that he was still cloaked in the smells of the bar-sweat, smoke and drink. Something that didn't seem too out of place given the state of this alley.
As he had set out on his walk he had spotted two men, both dressed in Northreners garb-thick tunics, with heavy boots lined in fur, and pale skin that looked all too like the wintery lands they called home. Something about their posture, their gait had said out of towners to Torin. It was then that he decided this would the perfect time to test his slowly evolving bag of tricks.
As he had shadowed the two men through the streets he quickly realized his instincts had been correct. There was something suspicous about them-they were definitely looking for people following them. But like so many humans they looked at shoulder level, never thinking to look down. Torin almost snorted. Just because we're small, he thought, doesn't mean we're stupid...
He had easily paced along beside them at times, behind them at others. No one seemed to pay him much attention. The more he followed them, the surer he was that they were definitely from out of town, and up to something. Had Jace been there, he'd have surely said something stupid, Torin thought, like 'Their up to no good Torin!' Well of course they are, he grinned, isn't everyone?
When they had stopped he realized they weren't completely stupid. They had picked a spot with relatively clear approaches-at least for anything Dwarf sized or larger. As they both leaned against the crate he had considered his options. Curiousity had finally won out, and Torin quickly sought out an approach.
As he neared the crate he could start to make out their voices, luckily they were speaking in the common tongue, or else this whole evening would have been doublely frustrating.
"...that bastard! He'll not live to regret this!" The man on the left was barely speaking louder than the gentle breeze that chilled the city slightly, but loud enough for Torin's sharp ears. The anger in the humans voice was palpable, almost scary. Torin was too caught up in the moment to think that far ahead though.
"Easy brother. We'll take care of this..." The man on the right was obviously older. His posture was slightly stooped, although his shoulders were ox like in their width. He was, Torin suddenly noticed, carrying a large knife in an ornate sheath. His left hand rested on it, a practiced motion Torin realized, one he had done numberless times. This man was a warrior of some sort.
"No, enough!" The younger man held himself erect, his back ramrod straight. He was obviously of higher social stature than the older man. He was well over six feet tall, but not nearly as thick as the older man. Dropping his voice slightly, the man continued, clamer this time. "We'll not beg for their money. We'll simply take it."
"Surely you can't be serious Jorus?" Torin almost laughed, as it was he had a really hard time not snorting. Why was it that people had a hard time believing the obvious? Torin had heard the man just as well the oldster, and he knew the younger human was serious.
"Take Cryn and Horth. Cut out his liver. Take th emoney. All of it. Find out where he has hidden the goods. We can't wait any longer." With out waiting the younger man turned his back on the oldster, and walked away into the night.
For the longest time the oldster simply sat there, and for a brief second Torin wondered if the old man had simply expired. Finally the oldster spoke aloud, and briefly Torin was ready to panic, thinking the man had spotted him, but then he realized the man was simply thinking aloud.
"Damn you and your impatience. Damn you Jorus." Hefting himself off the crate with a groan the man started to limp into the night, leaving Torin with two choices. As he set off after the old man, he realized there had never really been a choice at all...
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Torin Proud
- Tasty Human
- Posts: 74
- Joined: Mon Sep 13, 2004 5:41 am
- Location: Silverymoon, Toril
Torin wondered briefly if following the armed human who was intent on murder was the swiftest idea he'd had, but only the far recess of his mind. Most of his attnetion was dedicated to keeping up with the old man who, once he had set out, kept a harsh pace for someone as diminuitive as Torin. Halflings didn't boast of too many great sprinters in the spring games.
Nearly wheezing as he tried to keep pace with the old man he wondered if all northren men were this fierce? He knew his Da' would have never been able to set this sort of pace. His body had seen too many winters, his belly too many steins of badly brewed drinks and his lungs too much of that damn weed so many of his race seemed to like to smoke.
Torin had none of those bad habits-yet he thought wryly- and he was still hard pressed to keep up with one old man. He'd have to do something about this he thought. His mental review was brought to an abrupt halt when the north man stopped in front of a stablers.
The Furled Banner wasn't the sort of place most halflings went voluntarily. So of course Torin went in.
Nearly wheezing as he tried to keep pace with the old man he wondered if all northren men were this fierce? He knew his Da' would have never been able to set this sort of pace. His body had seen too many winters, his belly too many steins of badly brewed drinks and his lungs too much of that damn weed so many of his race seemed to like to smoke.
Torin had none of those bad habits-yet he thought wryly- and he was still hard pressed to keep up with one old man. He'd have to do something about this he thought. His mental review was brought to an abrupt halt when the north man stopped in front of a stablers.
The Furled Banner wasn't the sort of place most halflings went voluntarily. So of course Torin went in.
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Torin Proud
- Tasty Human
- Posts: 74
- Joined: Mon Sep 13, 2004 5:41 am
- Location: Silverymoon, Toril
The Furled Banner was one of the largest stablers in Waterdeep. A city this size had dozens of establishments like this-you couldn't take your horse or pony inside the bars or Inns with you, and most Inns had limited space to dedicate to the massive creatures. Add in that horses required feed, and care and it was simply a service most of the city dwellers didn't need.
So full service stables had met this particular need. They fed, groomed, sheltered and nurtured the mounts of those who could afford their services. Some, like the Furled Banner, offered shoeing services, and blacksmiths to meet other needs its clientel might need. Unlike most stables though, the Banner didn't ask a lot of questions of its riders. It wasn't just that they weren't curious, it was that they didn't care at all. the men who worked here spoke little of their pasts, and asked fewer questions.
Torin could remember at least twice in his life time that the stables had been the sight of a riot, or even once a band of Orc mercenaries had attempted to stage a raid on the city's elite from here. That the City's guard had stopped all such activity dead in it tracks meant theyhad someone on the inside here. An informer. Torin couldn't conceive of it any other way.
The place held an especially gruesome reputation amongst the cities halfling population. Of the four halflings murdered in the last twenty years, three had been killed here. (Freddy Lesher had been killed by his wife in a jealous rage fifteen winters past.) It wasn't uncommon even at his Da's bar to hear the Furled Banners name spoke with a curse, the speaker usually spitting over his right shoulder at the fire afterwards, as if that was a statement in and of itself.
The Banner had several entrances, some for men, some for mounts. Steam poured from these entrances, that stank of horse shit, smoke and hay. Something else was there-Torin could smell something that he couldn't place.
Even at this time of night it was busy-or rather because of the time of night it was busy, Torin corrected himself mentally. He could hear a hammer clanging on metal-what sounded to his untrained ears like someone pounding a horse shoe flat-and horses. They snorted, whinied and tromped about.
As he slipped in the west entrance of the huge barn like structure his eyes quickly adjusted to the dim lighting. Lamps had been hung on the outside of several of the stalls-but few looked like they'd been lit in a long time. Directly in the center of the Banner was its, small, forge. Several lanky looking human teenagers were shoveling coals into the side facing him, and another was pumping the billows.
Several groups of men stood about, their appearences as varied as their activities. Some were stabling their mounts, unloading their saddle bags, and removing tack and harnesses. Others were loading their mounts, still others seemed to just be milling about, a few drinking from tankards.
Just as he spotted the oldster, and the two men he was obviously meeting with, Torin felt a massive set of fingers clamp into the flesh of his shoulder with vice like intensity. He had to fight the pain to keep from screaming as the fingers dug deep under his collar bone and he was bodily lifted from the floor.
"I'll have no child in here!" The mans voice wasn't enraged. He was simply stating a fact. He towered over Torin as lifted the halfling with his oak tree thick arms. Veins bulged through the grime as the man tossed Torin back into the street. His barrel like chest rippling as he chuckled. "Now stay gone boy, before I clout you. Go! Find that whore of a mother of yours, and stay away from the places of men."
With out even a second look at the halfling the man turned his back, and walked away-leaving Torin clutching his aching shoulder in the street, angry and embarassed....
So full service stables had met this particular need. They fed, groomed, sheltered and nurtured the mounts of those who could afford their services. Some, like the Furled Banner, offered shoeing services, and blacksmiths to meet other needs its clientel might need. Unlike most stables though, the Banner didn't ask a lot of questions of its riders. It wasn't just that they weren't curious, it was that they didn't care at all. the men who worked here spoke little of their pasts, and asked fewer questions.
Torin could remember at least twice in his life time that the stables had been the sight of a riot, or even once a band of Orc mercenaries had attempted to stage a raid on the city's elite from here. That the City's guard had stopped all such activity dead in it tracks meant theyhad someone on the inside here. An informer. Torin couldn't conceive of it any other way.
The place held an especially gruesome reputation amongst the cities halfling population. Of the four halflings murdered in the last twenty years, three had been killed here. (Freddy Lesher had been killed by his wife in a jealous rage fifteen winters past.) It wasn't uncommon even at his Da's bar to hear the Furled Banners name spoke with a curse, the speaker usually spitting over his right shoulder at the fire afterwards, as if that was a statement in and of itself.
The Banner had several entrances, some for men, some for mounts. Steam poured from these entrances, that stank of horse shit, smoke and hay. Something else was there-Torin could smell something that he couldn't place.
Even at this time of night it was busy-or rather because of the time of night it was busy, Torin corrected himself mentally. He could hear a hammer clanging on metal-what sounded to his untrained ears like someone pounding a horse shoe flat-and horses. They snorted, whinied and tromped about.
As he slipped in the west entrance of the huge barn like structure his eyes quickly adjusted to the dim lighting. Lamps had been hung on the outside of several of the stalls-but few looked like they'd been lit in a long time. Directly in the center of the Banner was its, small, forge. Several lanky looking human teenagers were shoveling coals into the side facing him, and another was pumping the billows.
Several groups of men stood about, their appearences as varied as their activities. Some were stabling their mounts, unloading their saddle bags, and removing tack and harnesses. Others were loading their mounts, still others seemed to just be milling about, a few drinking from tankards.
Just as he spotted the oldster, and the two men he was obviously meeting with, Torin felt a massive set of fingers clamp into the flesh of his shoulder with vice like intensity. He had to fight the pain to keep from screaming as the fingers dug deep under his collar bone and he was bodily lifted from the floor.
"I'll have no child in here!" The mans voice wasn't enraged. He was simply stating a fact. He towered over Torin as lifted the halfling with his oak tree thick arms. Veins bulged through the grime as the man tossed Torin back into the street. His barrel like chest rippling as he chuckled. "Now stay gone boy, before I clout you. Go! Find that whore of a mother of yours, and stay away from the places of men."
With out even a second look at the halfling the man turned his back, and walked away-leaving Torin clutching his aching shoulder in the street, angry and embarassed....
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Torin Proud
- Tasty Human
- Posts: 74
- Joined: Mon Sep 13, 2004 5:41 am
- Location: Silverymoon, Toril
At first all he did was stand there impotent, embarassed, angry at the world. He rubbed his shoulder with his right hand, cursing every human that ever had the miserable misfortune of being born to the nine hells. Finally realizing that if he had stood there any longer someone would be supsicous he slunk back into the shadows.
Now what? it seemed his exciting adventure had come to a screeching halt. Damnedable humans. Always stomping around with their damn swords, and horses...Torin was so busy feeling sorry for himself that he nearly missed the oldster and his two companions slinking back out the arched entry.
Quickly setting his feet, he ducked down slightly, willing his body to be one with the shadows as they made a half hearted scan of the streets. Unless they were lucky enough to have opponents wearing signs that clearly labeled them as "Out to get you", Torin was pretty sure that he could have marched an army under their noses. Well excpet maybe the small man.
The oldster and the other man were nearly identical-gigantic men, with thick necks, and broad shoulders. Both wore tunics that showed off their massive arms. What was it with these humans and their muscles? But not the other man...
He was a full hand or two shorter than the other two, who could have been father and son now that he thought of it, and moved with a grace that was still clumsy compared to Torin, but leaps and bounds ahead of the other two men. Where the strode forward like Titans who feared little or nothing he seemed to sway forward, like a dancer in a waltz. He had a greasy looking handle bar mustache that had several beads entertwined in it, and was either bald, or shaved his head. His body was wiry, like a bar knuckles fighter, and nearly completely covered in thick but loose brown clothing.
Like the other two men he carried a knife, although his looked more like the daggers Torin had grown up thunking into corkboards every night. On its hilt a silvery snake seemed to slither downward into the blade-the mark seemed famliar to Torin but he couldn't place it.
The two big men made a concerted effort to scan the area for anyone paying them too much attention, but the little man didn't seem to care. As Torin followed them he realized the little man was cleverer than he looked, checking their progress as he walked, seemingl looking at random noises, people he might have known or imagined sounds. He would have seemed like a man who was worried about being rolled in this part of the city if Torin hadn't known what to look for.
Torin had much less difficult following them this time, as the small man seemed to set the pace. His relaxed, shifting gait made it easy for Torin to shadow them at a safe distance. Torins excitement built as he followed them along. His mind raced ahead of him, wondering what he'd see this evening-perhaps the most exciting of his walk abouts so far. Maybe they'd really kill that man? Would they be caught? How would they do it?
Now what? it seemed his exciting adventure had come to a screeching halt. Damnedable humans. Always stomping around with their damn swords, and horses...Torin was so busy feeling sorry for himself that he nearly missed the oldster and his two companions slinking back out the arched entry.
Quickly setting his feet, he ducked down slightly, willing his body to be one with the shadows as they made a half hearted scan of the streets. Unless they were lucky enough to have opponents wearing signs that clearly labeled them as "Out to get you", Torin was pretty sure that he could have marched an army under their noses. Well excpet maybe the small man.
The oldster and the other man were nearly identical-gigantic men, with thick necks, and broad shoulders. Both wore tunics that showed off their massive arms. What was it with these humans and their muscles? But not the other man...
He was a full hand or two shorter than the other two, who could have been father and son now that he thought of it, and moved with a grace that was still clumsy compared to Torin, but leaps and bounds ahead of the other two men. Where the strode forward like Titans who feared little or nothing he seemed to sway forward, like a dancer in a waltz. He had a greasy looking handle bar mustache that had several beads entertwined in it, and was either bald, or shaved his head. His body was wiry, like a bar knuckles fighter, and nearly completely covered in thick but loose brown clothing.
Like the other two men he carried a knife, although his looked more like the daggers Torin had grown up thunking into corkboards every night. On its hilt a silvery snake seemed to slither downward into the blade-the mark seemed famliar to Torin but he couldn't place it.
The two big men made a concerted effort to scan the area for anyone paying them too much attention, but the little man didn't seem to care. As Torin followed them he realized the little man was cleverer than he looked, checking their progress as he walked, seemingl looking at random noises, people he might have known or imagined sounds. He would have seemed like a man who was worried about being rolled in this part of the city if Torin hadn't known what to look for.
Torin had much less difficult following them this time, as the small man seemed to set the pace. His relaxed, shifting gait made it easy for Torin to shadow them at a safe distance. Torins excitement built as he followed them along. His mind raced ahead of him, wondering what he'd see this evening-perhaps the most exciting of his walk abouts so far. Maybe they'd really kill that man? Would they be caught? How would they do it?
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Torin Proud
- Tasty Human
- Posts: 74
- Joined: Mon Sep 13, 2004 5:41 am
- Location: Silverymoon, Toril
Following them was more of a challenge than anything he had done in...well maybe forever. It wasn't that they were really good-the small man was okay, Torin was better-but circumstances seemed to conspire with them. The weather which had been chilly but clear suddenly became cloudy, obscuring his vision at times, the chill threatening to make his teeth chatter so loudly that he was sure they'd hear him before they saw him.
The men took their time as they walked. None spoke, excpet occassionally the little snake like man. And then only to women, who generally either blushed and scurried away, or blushed and cursed at him loudly in several languages. Torin almost wondered what he 'd said but was pretty sure he could guess. Humans. Always thinking below their belts but never looking that far down.
The men finally stopped at one of the several small nameless inns that ringed the edge of the south wall of the city. It was two stories high with a flat roof. Its walls were made of various materials, as it had been expanded several times over the years. Since it wasn't actually inside the cities walls it wasn't governed by a lot of the rules normal establishments might have to deal with, like his Da's.
These ramshackle affairs rarely got as permanent as this one, and the city was constantly condemning those who built these dangerous little hostels. He could see that this one was obviously a rough place-its walls were patched ins everal spots from what looked like holes where people had either been thrown through or broke while fighting. Several men and dwarves squatted in a ring out front shooting bones, something that wasn't unheard of at this time of night but pretty rare inside the walls of the city. Allof them were armed, and ugly looking. Desperate is the word that popped into Torins mind.
The three men he was following didn't spare any of them much more than a glance. They had obviously been here befoe. As they strode through the heavy door Torin decided that he wouldn't risk a repeat of the stables and swung around the far side of the building where its make shift stables were.
Making sure he was alone Torin hefted himself atop a barrel. From the barrel he leapt across at the wall of the city using it to rebound and bounce himself higher, his fingers nimblely catching the lower edge of the loft sill. They used this larger than normal opening to heft hay up into the barn. Althoug the door was closed, he had more than enough space to swing his feet up ontot he sill and scramble across to where the low edge of the roof was only a few feet away. His body pressed against the door he decided what to do next.
If that roof was as shoddy as it looked it was possible some of the shingles on the slanted roof of the barn would slip, and possiblely make him fall to the ground. Not a fall that would kill him, but one that would hurt. If he climbed straight up he'd waste a little more time. His decision made he sprung across to the edge of the roof, his fingers clutching the edge Torin swung his hips, shifting his momentum. With a slight grunt he flung himself upward like a vaulter and landed ont he roof with a dull thud. Luckily for him the roof held, and he was able to keep his balance.
Silently crossing the roof he could see that his acrobatics had gone unnoticed by the men and dwarves. Good. Stopping at the edge of the barn roof he was happy to see it practically bumped up against the side wall of the hostel. Good this would be easy. A window was just to his left. He carefully lifted the frame just enough for him to crawl into. Sticking his head just below the frame he could see that this window lead into the upstairs hall. Shimmying in he closed the window behind him.
The men took their time as they walked. None spoke, excpet occassionally the little snake like man. And then only to women, who generally either blushed and scurried away, or blushed and cursed at him loudly in several languages. Torin almost wondered what he 'd said but was pretty sure he could guess. Humans. Always thinking below their belts but never looking that far down.
The men finally stopped at one of the several small nameless inns that ringed the edge of the south wall of the city. It was two stories high with a flat roof. Its walls were made of various materials, as it had been expanded several times over the years. Since it wasn't actually inside the cities walls it wasn't governed by a lot of the rules normal establishments might have to deal with, like his Da's.
These ramshackle affairs rarely got as permanent as this one, and the city was constantly condemning those who built these dangerous little hostels. He could see that this one was obviously a rough place-its walls were patched ins everal spots from what looked like holes where people had either been thrown through or broke while fighting. Several men and dwarves squatted in a ring out front shooting bones, something that wasn't unheard of at this time of night but pretty rare inside the walls of the city. Allof them were armed, and ugly looking. Desperate is the word that popped into Torins mind.
The three men he was following didn't spare any of them much more than a glance. They had obviously been here befoe. As they strode through the heavy door Torin decided that he wouldn't risk a repeat of the stables and swung around the far side of the building where its make shift stables were.
Making sure he was alone Torin hefted himself atop a barrel. From the barrel he leapt across at the wall of the city using it to rebound and bounce himself higher, his fingers nimblely catching the lower edge of the loft sill. They used this larger than normal opening to heft hay up into the barn. Althoug the door was closed, he had more than enough space to swing his feet up ontot he sill and scramble across to where the low edge of the roof was only a few feet away. His body pressed against the door he decided what to do next.
If that roof was as shoddy as it looked it was possible some of the shingles on the slanted roof of the barn would slip, and possiblely make him fall to the ground. Not a fall that would kill him, but one that would hurt. If he climbed straight up he'd waste a little more time. His decision made he sprung across to the edge of the roof, his fingers clutching the edge Torin swung his hips, shifting his momentum. With a slight grunt he flung himself upward like a vaulter and landed ont he roof with a dull thud. Luckily for him the roof held, and he was able to keep his balance.
Silently crossing the roof he could see that his acrobatics had gone unnoticed by the men and dwarves. Good. Stopping at the edge of the barn roof he was happy to see it practically bumped up against the side wall of the hostel. Good this would be easy. A window was just to his left. He carefully lifted the frame just enough for him to crawl into. Sticking his head just below the frame he could see that this window lead into the upstairs hall. Shimmying in he closed the window behind him.
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Torin Proud
- Tasty Human
- Posts: 74
- Joined: Mon Sep 13, 2004 5:41 am
- Location: Silverymoon, Toril
The hall was short, and dark, the walls stained with age, urine and likely drink of some sort. He could see five doors-two on both the north and south sie, and one oppositte him at the east end. While the rest of the doors were tightly close-well as tightly closed as they could get with no corners really in square anyways-the east door hung from a single hinge, halfway open. He could hear angry voices from the room.
"Damn it Horth I said not to kill him!" Torin heard a loud smacking sound, followed by what was likely someone hitting the opposite wall. "Fool! Now we may never know where the coin is!" The voice was deep, like rumbling thunder, angry but calm. Whomever that was, he was dangerous.
"Maybe the bitch knows Therak?" It had to be the small man. The voice was calm, but oily. Too rich, fake. It had to be him. Torin drew closer to the door, snaking along side the south walls. Stopping just at the last door on the south side he could almost see into the room.
The door opened away from a wall-which meant mostly he got a great view of the wall, and the back of the human he was now sure was named Horth.For a few seconds he heard the sounds of struggling then he heard a womans voice.
"Damn all of you to the hells that spawned your dickless swine-" Her voice was cut off by a loud smack! They were beating a woman? What sor tof men were these? , Torin chided himself, 'Criminals you fool! That's what kind.'
"Shut up bitch!" He heard a series of smacks, each louder than the last. Damn them! Then he heard an odd crackling noise-was that ozone he smelt? Suddenly the door was blown completely off as Horth was flung through the hall, and the wall at the west end! Lightening bolts shot from the room in every direction, knocking walls flat, lighting wood on fire.
What the blazes was happening in there? He turned back towards the room and saw that the old man, Therak was on the ground, his chest smoking, his innards blown across the floor and wall behind him. His eyes stared upward lifeless. On the bed he saw the small man, Cryn he assumed, standing over the woman-a small human? No an elf! His hands were wrapped around her throat, his back to Torin.
"Bitch! You may have surprised those tow north men with your magical trinket but I'm not the same brand of foolish. Now you'll die!" Torin could see the mans forearms knot up as he choked the life from the woman. It was then he did something really stupid.
Torin drew his knife. A long slender blade, with a slight curve to it. It was elvish-Torin had purchased two from a traveling band of elves several summers ago. They had cost him dearly but were well worth their weight in gold. Charging forward silently, his feet barely maiking a sound he leapt driving his blade deep into the mans back, just below his neck.
Cryns back arched and he bellowed out in rage and shock! Wrapping his hands tightly around the hilt of his weapon Torin pulled down as hard as he could. A jagged line opened up in the mans back. The human tried to reach over his shoulders and grab Torin, but he twisted from side to side avoiding the dying mans clutching hands. Suddenly he heard the woman's voice.
"I told you I'd see you all dead!" Suddenly the air smelt of burnt ozone, and then he heard an ear shattering crackle as a bolt of bright blue lightening slammed into the human, driving them both backwards into the wall. As he hit the air was pushed out his lungs with a whomph He felt several of his ribs crack as the hilt of his blade rammed into his chest. As he lost consciousness he felt the weightlessness of falling, then then briefly the weight of the mans body slamming into him...
"Damn it Horth I said not to kill him!" Torin heard a loud smacking sound, followed by what was likely someone hitting the opposite wall. "Fool! Now we may never know where the coin is!" The voice was deep, like rumbling thunder, angry but calm. Whomever that was, he was dangerous.
"Maybe the bitch knows Therak?" It had to be the small man. The voice was calm, but oily. Too rich, fake. It had to be him. Torin drew closer to the door, snaking along side the south walls. Stopping just at the last door on the south side he could almost see into the room.
The door opened away from a wall-which meant mostly he got a great view of the wall, and the back of the human he was now sure was named Horth.For a few seconds he heard the sounds of struggling then he heard a womans voice.
"Damn all of you to the hells that spawned your dickless swine-" Her voice was cut off by a loud smack! They were beating a woman? What sor tof men were these? , Torin chided himself, 'Criminals you fool! That's what kind.'
"Shut up bitch!" He heard a series of smacks, each louder than the last. Damn them! Then he heard an odd crackling noise-was that ozone he smelt? Suddenly the door was blown completely off as Horth was flung through the hall, and the wall at the west end! Lightening bolts shot from the room in every direction, knocking walls flat, lighting wood on fire.
What the blazes was happening in there? He turned back towards the room and saw that the old man, Therak was on the ground, his chest smoking, his innards blown across the floor and wall behind him. His eyes stared upward lifeless. On the bed he saw the small man, Cryn he assumed, standing over the woman-a small human? No an elf! His hands were wrapped around her throat, his back to Torin.
"Bitch! You may have surprised those tow north men with your magical trinket but I'm not the same brand of foolish. Now you'll die!" Torin could see the mans forearms knot up as he choked the life from the woman. It was then he did something really stupid.
Torin drew his knife. A long slender blade, with a slight curve to it. It was elvish-Torin had purchased two from a traveling band of elves several summers ago. They had cost him dearly but were well worth their weight in gold. Charging forward silently, his feet barely maiking a sound he leapt driving his blade deep into the mans back, just below his neck.
Cryns back arched and he bellowed out in rage and shock! Wrapping his hands tightly around the hilt of his weapon Torin pulled down as hard as he could. A jagged line opened up in the mans back. The human tried to reach over his shoulders and grab Torin, but he twisted from side to side avoiding the dying mans clutching hands. Suddenly he heard the woman's voice.
"I told you I'd see you all dead!" Suddenly the air smelt of burnt ozone, and then he heard an ear shattering crackle as a bolt of bright blue lightening slammed into the human, driving them both backwards into the wall. As he hit the air was pushed out his lungs with a whomph He felt several of his ribs crack as the hilt of his blade rammed into his chest. As he lost consciousness he felt the weightlessness of falling, then then briefly the weight of the mans body slamming into him...
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Torin Proud
- Tasty Human
- Posts: 74
- Joined: Mon Sep 13, 2004 5:41 am
- Location: Silverymoon, Toril
How long had he been out? He could still smell burning flesh, and ozone. Suddenly the sensation returned to his body and he realized he was under a very heavy, very dead body. Scrambling out from under it, he managed to keep ahold of his knife, dragging it wetly from the dead mans body.
Standing, his legs slightly unsteady, he saw the elven woman-half elven he now thought-hurriedly jamming various bags and items into a small chest. Part of the floor at her feet was torn apart messily, with the planks strewn to the side. She was obviously unloading some coins from a secret stash in a real hurry.
Sheathing his knife, but keeping his hand resting on its hilt, he started to move towards her when suddenly she whirled, her right arm extended. He rfist balled up so tightly the blood had drained from it, a large ring inlaid with blue runes was on her middle finger. She pointed it like a weapon, and he quickly realized it was-this is where the lightening had come from!
"Slow and easy my half sized savior." Her voice was soft, utterly with out fear. He could tell too that she was still aching from being choked. "I'm not sure who you are, or why you saw fit to help me, but don't go thinking I'm an easy mark now."
Torin simply stopped. What else could he do? He slowly moved his ahnd away from his knife, and brought both hands out, away from his sides, his plams up. Hopefully she didn't decide to fry him like a winter fest treat.
"Who are you halfling? And what's your business here? Speak quickly, for I've no time to squander on the likes of you." Her eyes narrowed, and she held her arm ramrod stiff.
"My name is Kal, and I'm a simple thief. I just happened upon these fell men as they were to have their way with you. I may be a thief, but I'm not a monster." He had lied of course. It had come so naturally to his lips, his eyes betrayed nothing. "My business is my own, although I can say for certain it didn't concern any of you." With his head he motioned towards the dead men. "Although I admit this isn't much thanks to someone who just saved your life." He said this last with a cockeyed smile. Please, he thought, don't let her kill me.
For a second he could see the woman debating the merits of simply using her magical ring to get rid of this little loose end, but finally she seemed to decide it was a waste, and turned her back on him. "You have my thanks, it's not often I see such generosity Kal." She knew he was lying. "I am not totally without manners good sir, and for my thanks I offer what remains of my companions belongings, and whatever you might find on these cretins." she punctuated the word by kicking one of the dead bodies so hard it rolled over, the mans lifeless eyes staring seemingly directly at Torin.
Hefting her chest she slither past him, "I'd not stay too long however little one. I should suspect Jorus will be mos unhappy when his prized dogs don't come back with my head, or my coins." And then she was off, leaving Torin confused.
Shaking his head he quickly stepped over to the hole. All that remained was a single small pouch, and a short sword, sheathed in dark cloth. Taking both, he ran for the window. He doubted any of the deadmen had anything he wanted to be found with, if it ever came down to it...
Standing, his legs slightly unsteady, he saw the elven woman-half elven he now thought-hurriedly jamming various bags and items into a small chest. Part of the floor at her feet was torn apart messily, with the planks strewn to the side. She was obviously unloading some coins from a secret stash in a real hurry.
Sheathing his knife, but keeping his hand resting on its hilt, he started to move towards her when suddenly she whirled, her right arm extended. He rfist balled up so tightly the blood had drained from it, a large ring inlaid with blue runes was on her middle finger. She pointed it like a weapon, and he quickly realized it was-this is where the lightening had come from!
"Slow and easy my half sized savior." Her voice was soft, utterly with out fear. He could tell too that she was still aching from being choked. "I'm not sure who you are, or why you saw fit to help me, but don't go thinking I'm an easy mark now."
Torin simply stopped. What else could he do? He slowly moved his ahnd away from his knife, and brought both hands out, away from his sides, his plams up. Hopefully she didn't decide to fry him like a winter fest treat.
"Who are you halfling? And what's your business here? Speak quickly, for I've no time to squander on the likes of you." Her eyes narrowed, and she held her arm ramrod stiff.
"My name is Kal, and I'm a simple thief. I just happened upon these fell men as they were to have their way with you. I may be a thief, but I'm not a monster." He had lied of course. It had come so naturally to his lips, his eyes betrayed nothing. "My business is my own, although I can say for certain it didn't concern any of you." With his head he motioned towards the dead men. "Although I admit this isn't much thanks to someone who just saved your life." He said this last with a cockeyed smile. Please, he thought, don't let her kill me.
For a second he could see the woman debating the merits of simply using her magical ring to get rid of this little loose end, but finally she seemed to decide it was a waste, and turned her back on him. "You have my thanks, it's not often I see such generosity Kal." She knew he was lying. "I am not totally without manners good sir, and for my thanks I offer what remains of my companions belongings, and whatever you might find on these cretins." she punctuated the word by kicking one of the dead bodies so hard it rolled over, the mans lifeless eyes staring seemingly directly at Torin.
Hefting her chest she slither past him, "I'd not stay too long however little one. I should suspect Jorus will be mos unhappy when his prized dogs don't come back with my head, or my coins." And then she was off, leaving Torin confused.
Shaking his head he quickly stepped over to the hole. All that remained was a single small pouch, and a short sword, sheathed in dark cloth. Taking both, he ran for the window. He doubted any of the deadmen had anything he wanted to be found with, if it ever came down to it...
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Torin Proud
- Tasty Human
- Posts: 74
- Joined: Mon Sep 13, 2004 5:41 am
- Location: Silverymoon, Toril
Three summers past.....
Torin stood with his hands on his hips. His knuckles ached, dried blood that was a dark crimson stain reminded him of eac mistake he'd made this afternoon. Jace's smile only made him hate it. He'd always known that Jace was stronger, and he had never really felt threatened by that. Afte rall he was smarter, and faster-even if only by a hare's breath. But until today Torin hadn't also realized that Jace was better at something else-Swords.
He'd hidden his illicitly obtained sword for an entire season before he'd shown it to Jace. Another two moons had passed before he'd finally shown it to his Da'. Niether had said much beyond their admiration for its craftsmanship.
His Da' had whistled and held it out straight, the blade level with his eye. "A fine blade me lad. Now, you'd best set about learning to use this here pig sticker 'fore you lob your foot off."
Torin had been frustrated and embarassed. His Da' was right. Other than plunking darts, and blades into the cork board, or slinging stones at rats in the night Torin didn't know the first thing about using a sword. At first he'd simply taken the sword into the cellar and tried to learn on his own. After all how hard could it be? His Da' had put a stop to that when Torin had accidentally sliced open a pony keg one morning, covering the cellar floor in 5 coin a cup brew.
After that he'd thought to watch the city guard, or maybe one of the mercenary troops that often found work in the city practice. But that had proven far more difficult than he'd have thought it would be. Most of them had shooed him away-not always gentlely-thinking him a spy, a thief or worse. Frustrated he'd finally resigned himself to simplely selling the damn thing when one morning Jace had suprised him totally.
"I can show you how ta' use that sword if you'd like brother." Torin had simplely stared at his brother for a few seconds. He'd never thought of Jace as someone who could teach anyone anything. He'd quickly learned that Jace knew far more about weapons and fighting than he himself did.
A patient instructor Jace had shown him how to hold his sword, how to draw it quickly without stabbing himself in his bits and pieces, and so much more. they'd purchased wooden practice swords, and soon twicfe a day they fought mock battles wherever they could, whenever they could.
Torin had been shamed and amazed at how easily Jace had bested him at first. His body and pride bruised Torin had put his total effort into learning what Jace taught him. It never occured to him to ask where Jace had learned all of this.
Now six months later he'd finally managed to start scoring points in their mock battles, several times coming close to beating his twin-but never quite managing. Jace was a natural, his weapons, whatever he used, a natural extension of his body. His graceful form and accomplished style was more than Torin's speed and reckless courage at times.
Today they'd been practicing for the better part of the morning. Torins body was black and blue, bleeding in several places. He felt like he'd been in bar room brawl with an army of dwarves! Jace never seemed to stop smiling-occassionally he'd laugh, a deep belly laugh as he thumped Torin soundly.
"Well met brother, but I'm afraid I won that one." Jace smiled, his eyes glittering selflessly. Torin knew his twin wasn't boasting, only stating the truth. He also knew Jace wasn't gloating. His brother never did that. But damn it, his self righteous, self assured pride was angering Torin.
"Indeed brother. But shall we dance once more?" Torins eyes narrowed. It was time to show Jace something he'd been practicing as well.
Jaces eyes narrowed only slightly, and he nodded. "As you wish Torin." Bowing slightly Jace sqaured off against Torin, his left foot back, his sword held at the ready, his eyes open and attentive. His brother was all business when it came to his sword play.
Torin simply nodded his head, and then lowered his own sword so that it was held to his right side, perpendicular to his waist. The two halflings circled each other, saying nothing, their eyes locked. Torin had watched Jace figt for months now, and had learned that Jace always fought fair-tough, but he'd never hit Torin while he was down or in his back. Torin had always followed this unspoken code of conduct, but not anymore.
As Jace lashed out at him, his wodden sword flashing over his head, Torin ducked to the side dodging the blow that would have sent him sprawling to the ground and planting his foot he whirled as Jaces momenentum carried him past Torin. Turning abruptly he swung hard, throwing his hips into the swing. He was rewarded with a loud grunt from Jace as he sent his twin tumbling to the ground. His anger boiling over he stepped in, his body above his twins and lashed out again with his sword striking Jace across his head with a loud growl.
And suddenly it hit him-he'd hit his brother while he was down...
He'd hidden his illicitly obtained sword for an entire season before he'd shown it to Jace. Another two moons had passed before he'd finally shown it to his Da'. Niether had said much beyond their admiration for its craftsmanship.
His Da' had whistled and held it out straight, the blade level with his eye. "A fine blade me lad. Now, you'd best set about learning to use this here pig sticker 'fore you lob your foot off."
Torin had been frustrated and embarassed. His Da' was right. Other than plunking darts, and blades into the cork board, or slinging stones at rats in the night Torin didn't know the first thing about using a sword. At first he'd simply taken the sword into the cellar and tried to learn on his own. After all how hard could it be? His Da' had put a stop to that when Torin had accidentally sliced open a pony keg one morning, covering the cellar floor in 5 coin a cup brew.
After that he'd thought to watch the city guard, or maybe one of the mercenary troops that often found work in the city practice. But that had proven far more difficult than he'd have thought it would be. Most of them had shooed him away-not always gentlely-thinking him a spy, a thief or worse. Frustrated he'd finally resigned himself to simplely selling the damn thing when one morning Jace had suprised him totally.
"I can show you how ta' use that sword if you'd like brother." Torin had simplely stared at his brother for a few seconds. He'd never thought of Jace as someone who could teach anyone anything. He'd quickly learned that Jace knew far more about weapons and fighting than he himself did.
A patient instructor Jace had shown him how to hold his sword, how to draw it quickly without stabbing himself in his bits and pieces, and so much more. they'd purchased wooden practice swords, and soon twicfe a day they fought mock battles wherever they could, whenever they could.
Torin had been shamed and amazed at how easily Jace had bested him at first. His body and pride bruised Torin had put his total effort into learning what Jace taught him. It never occured to him to ask where Jace had learned all of this.
Now six months later he'd finally managed to start scoring points in their mock battles, several times coming close to beating his twin-but never quite managing. Jace was a natural, his weapons, whatever he used, a natural extension of his body. His graceful form and accomplished style was more than Torin's speed and reckless courage at times.
Today they'd been practicing for the better part of the morning. Torins body was black and blue, bleeding in several places. He felt like he'd been in bar room brawl with an army of dwarves! Jace never seemed to stop smiling-occassionally he'd laugh, a deep belly laugh as he thumped Torin soundly.
"Well met brother, but I'm afraid I won that one." Jace smiled, his eyes glittering selflessly. Torin knew his twin wasn't boasting, only stating the truth. He also knew Jace wasn't gloating. His brother never did that. But damn it, his self righteous, self assured pride was angering Torin.
"Indeed brother. But shall we dance once more?" Torins eyes narrowed. It was time to show Jace something he'd been practicing as well.
Jaces eyes narrowed only slightly, and he nodded. "As you wish Torin." Bowing slightly Jace sqaured off against Torin, his left foot back, his sword held at the ready, his eyes open and attentive. His brother was all business when it came to his sword play.
Torin simply nodded his head, and then lowered his own sword so that it was held to his right side, perpendicular to his waist. The two halflings circled each other, saying nothing, their eyes locked. Torin had watched Jace figt for months now, and had learned that Jace always fought fair-tough, but he'd never hit Torin while he was down or in his back. Torin had always followed this unspoken code of conduct, but not anymore.
As Jace lashed out at him, his wodden sword flashing over his head, Torin ducked to the side dodging the blow that would have sent him sprawling to the ground and planting his foot he whirled as Jaces momenentum carried him past Torin. Turning abruptly he swung hard, throwing his hips into the swing. He was rewarded with a loud grunt from Jace as he sent his twin tumbling to the ground. His anger boiling over he stepped in, his body above his twins and lashed out again with his sword striking Jace across his head with a loud growl.
And suddenly it hit him-he'd hit his brother while he was down...
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Torin Proud
- Tasty Human
- Posts: 74
- Joined: Mon Sep 13, 2004 5:41 am
- Location: Silverymoon, Toril
Torin dropped his sword, and before Jace could say a word he fled. Damn Jace! Damn him! Torin was sure he'd planned this right-every detail had played a hundred times overin his head. But why did he now feel so...so...shamed? As he ran he heard Jace call out his name, but he couldn't ook backwards. Not after this...