| T O P I C R E V I E W |
| Tyreal Nyquis |
Posted - 08 Dec 2002 : 17:13:58
“The romance of a thief’s life is more myth than truth, for thieves are sought by all and trusted by none.” – Tyreal Nyquis
From the Rashad estate a shadowy figure could be sparsely seen ducking behind the hedges and statues, stealthily making its way to a nearby window with a catlike grace. The figure was none other than the ambitious would-be legend, Avaris Nightblade, finest assassin in all of Calimshan (perhaps he had never heard of Artemis Entreri), or so he liked to think. As he stalked to his destination, he recalled his hasty briefing the night before in the guildhall, Avaris was to kill the merchant lord, Jeran Rashad, for an unknown client who preferred to keep his identity a mystery. The assassin reached the window without error, and chanced a look inside before entering, nothing. The room was completely dark except for what little light was able to seep in from the oil lit lantern a few yards away outside. He then attempted to open it simply with his hands not expecting any result and in return there was none. A desert gust blew his hood off, exposing both his scarred face and his short light brown hair. Ignoring the fact that he could now easily be spotted and recognized, Avaris pulled out the necessary tools for the task at hand. He worked as quickly as he could, disregarding the fact that he had no idea where to find a lock on a window (despite his obvious experience). Perhaps that was a mistake, as the illustrious guilder quickly mistook an unseen crack in the window for a lock and after thrusting the pick in and turning it forcefully half of the window collapsed before him causing the rather loud sound of glass being shattered to echo throughout the estate.
“Oh, forsake it all!” Avaris whispered sharply as he looked desperately for something or other to hide in, that was simply unacceptable for a thief of his stature. Unable to locate anything within reasonable distance Avaris was forced to simple crouch in the corner and wait. He continued on in that fashion for five minutes or so until he was sure no one had heard. Slowly, Avaris rose still alert and sidled a bit closer to the window. He remembered his hood and put it back on. The opening he had created was just large enough to slip through without much trouble. He then hoisted himself up through then window to enter the room. He was beginning to regain his poise since his rather unorthodox entrance, and lit a match from his pocket to get a better look at his surroundings.
It appeared to Avaris that he was inside of a study, and a rather large one at that, though it hadn’t much in it. A few dusty tomes stacked upon each other in disorderly fashion and a leather pouch full of something that looked like gold coins on an oak desk caught his eye, no harm in securing a bit more profit than what the guild was paying him, right? But now to the matter at hand, Avaris located the door at the far right side of the room and put his ear to it. He thought he heard something, but then again… the young guildsman grasped his dagger began to open the door just a crack, praying the hinges did not squeak. They didn’t. Not that it helped for there was no one in the corridor. Avaris stepped into the hall, his worn leather boots almost silent on the cold stone floor. The match had by now burnt down to his fingertips and he muffled a yelp the thief dropped them to the ground. Luckily, these halls were lit by torch, providing enough light to get around easily enough. He moved now, half-crouching through the corridor examining the busts of various noblemen and aristocratic merchants all of which where apparently related to his mark. Avaris thought of stealing one, a bust of that quality would fetch quite a hefty sum on the black market but decided against it, as they were much to heavy. He jumped at the sound of footsteps drawing nearer, nearer. The were a few short moments away from the turn where he would be in full sight when a slightly panicked Avaris ducked into the nearest door on his left. A storeroom, The floor was littered with barrels and sacks, some piled and others in rows a great room to hide in though the assassin owner of those foots steps would enter this room considering the time of night. Of course he was correct. After a while the sound of footsteps ceased to reach his ears. The night went on in this manner for some time sneaking, peering into rooms, and running for cover whenever anyone was near. That is until he reached his mark. Avaris noted his weight and the snoring, disgusting. He wondered at the fact that most merchants were similar in those traits, the rich ones at least. At the angle, which the man slept, however, it was impossible to slit his throat so Avaris was forced to resort to a stab in the back. Not that it put him to any disadvantage, as he was more used to marks already awake. He frowned, unsheathed his blade and gave a hard thrust.
“AAAAAARGHHH!!!” The man’s scream permeated throughout the halls like the call of a bat, alerting everyone and thing in its range. Tyris cursed aloud now that his stealth was given away, now seeing the problem: He had, in his ignorance, stabbed the man too low. The fates had surely frowned on him that night, as he would never make such an amateur mistake in all his days past and to come, Avaris was as stated before, the best assassin to roam the streets of Calimport and couldn’t let things such as this onto his record. He burst out of the room like an airborne dagger, speeding through the halls, cloak flying at his back as guards and the like pursued. As he ran Avaris saw that they were attempting to chase him to the door, he would not let them fool him and turned the way he came in through the window. As he neared the opening he dove through it causing several cuts on his legs and arms but still he ran. As he galloped on to the gates he spotted the two guards there waiting for him. He was caught, he of all people, the finest assassin in Tethyr, brought to end by a turn of fate. The very idea was absurd! Nevertheless, his future was inevitable. He came to an abrupt stop, panting from the dash and raised he arm in surrender.
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| 8 L A T E S T R E P L I E S (Newest First) |
| Exilion |
Posted - 26 Dec 2002 : 16:08:40
Tyreal,
I have verily enjoyed reading your extremely well written story.
( . ) ( . )
.
****
****** |
| Tyreal Nyquis |
Posted - 13 Dec 2002 : 22:58:13
The message is sent, hopefully it will find it's destination. Check your email account. |
| Alaundo |
Posted - 12 Dec 2002 : 20:48:19
Well Met Tyreal Nyquis
As you have no email address specified in your profile, could you please contact me at: alaundo@candlekeep.com ::looks round over left shoulder, then the right, leans towards Tyreal and whispers:: There are things I need to talk to you about... |
| Tyreal Nyquis |
Posted - 11 Dec 2002 : 15:22:30
We rejoin our favorite rogue, Avaris Nightblade stumbling about in a dank cell, or at least it seemed one, it was too dark to tell. The stench of mildew mingled with other… things were heavy here. He lifted himself up from the ground cursing again at his own stupidity back there on the Rashad estate. As he did this, hunger suddenly struck Avaris and hit hard. He tried to remember the last time he ate while he felt around for whatever rations a guard might have distributed earlier. As Tyris did this his eyes became accustom to the dark and he found a thin tin bowl and leaned closer to inspect its contents. The food was nothing extravagant as one might expect considering his situation. A bowl of what looked like cold soup of broth and the occasional chunk of tasteless, chewy meat. Nevertheless the thief turned prisoner ate as if it was a king’s feast. Doing this, he attempted to get a good look at his surroundings, being a assassin he was used to these conditions but even him took a while to discern exactly what something is even after he had seen it there. The floor was nothing special, merely a hard, cold collection of granite tiles packed tight as bowstring was all. In one corner sat an emptied chamber pot and a wooden bench supported by iron cast chains set into the wall. It was then, after examining the contents of the room that Avaris noticed what he himself was wearing. He had been stripped of his old clothing including his cloak and dagger and in their place were the rags of some past prisoner’s outfit. It was a horrid shade of gray, as were most of the things in the cell. Avaris spit onto the stones beneath him and sat down lying on the bench. As he moved his leg he noticed the iron shackles secured to both his ankles, they constricted his movement somewhat but they allow him to get as far as where he needed to be, the bench. It creaked with his weight as he got on. It would do, Avaris thought. He had heard of less hospitable cells, such as those in Waterdeep. A steady dripping diverted his attention to the darkness above him, apparently water was dripping from some chink in the ceiling. Wonderful thought Avaris, now, along with imprisonment I have to deal with that constant dripping for the next umpteen years of my life. He groaned, and scrunched up onto the thin bench with obvious discomfort. Though his legs were bound tightly and his shoulders pressed tightly into his neck sleep came easily for Avaris that night, after all it had indeed been a long day.
Avaris woke to an aching body and the steady beat of water falling from the ceiling. Avaris cursed both at his limbs, the infuriating dripping and his unfortunate arrival to this place. Getting up he outstretched his arms and trudged to the front of his cell, nearly fracturing his skull on the bars when he tripped after the shackles at his feet were stretched to their limit. The master thief was barely able to save himself in time and if it were not for his lightning reflexes he wouldn’t have been so lucky. Grunting, Avaris pushed himself back to his standing position only to later trip upon the chamber pot, causing it to clatter noisily across the room. The unfortunate Avaris managed to hop onto the bench before managing to inflict any more pain to himself all the while clutching his ankle. This all takes time to record yet the whole episode took no more than six seconds. As he sat Avaris was just able to make out a figure sitting unmoving in the other cell through the rusted bars as he sat. The figure began chuckling, it was a kindly sound that one would expect from wise men and certain wizards who spend much too much time sitting and blowing smoke rings.
Finally, recovering from his laughing fit the man opposite Avaris stood and while walking to the front of his cell shouted “Good sir!” the man’s voice, like his laugh was wizened and kindly.
“You seem a bit clumsy on your feet, friend, learning to walk again, eh?”
“You dare insult me, old man? Do you know who you are speaking to?” said Avaris, his voice rising a menacingly as he could muster, for all his prestige his intimidation skills had never been fully developed.
“I presumed you were merely a prisoner like all us others behind the bars, yet in this light…”
“A prisoner? Yes, though I doubt for long, I shall have escaped before the month’s end. After all, it wouldn’t do to have the city’s best assassin behind bars for too long would it?”
“An assassin? I speak truth when I say I thoroughly doubt that. You lack a certain grace that most of the sneaksman trade seem to possess.”
Avaris scoffed and stood, ”Hmph! I am just having trouble in this light.”
“Say what you will, friend, say what you will. But, truly if you were a great assassin, would not have been captured would you?”
Avaris ignored this and then settled back down upon the bench.
“Very well,” The old man said, “Perhaps if ‘twas not result of your inexperience, you could blame the whole affair on luck.”
The thief, though he said nothing thought of the old man’s words of luck. “Yes, that must be it!” he thought frantically “Luck! That is the reason for my these most recent woes.” While he pondered this possibility Avaris found himself once again dozing off into the blissful world of sleep.
This time Avaris awoke to a bit of a start. Where was he? After a few moments in which fear began to creep upon Avaris’s heart with a cold grip until he finally recalled his location. Not that he was any more pleased now. Avaris rose slowly made his way to the chamber pot in the corner. After relieving himself he moved the bucket to the door of his cell and returned to his bench, staring into the ceiling. I shall not bore you (our myself) with endless repetition so let it suffice to sat that this day and all the rest for a week or so went on much as the first and second days I shall begin recording again on the first day of Avaris’s second week imprisoned where he is visited by some very unusual guest.
Avaris yawned silently as he woke and stretched a bit as he curled and attempted to get comfortable on the stone bench that had recently become his seat and bed. While doing this he found himself interrupted by a dim light coming from further up the corridor, he also heard heavy footsteps. A guard no doubt, perhaps he is come to check on the prisoners. Much was to Avaris’s surprise that the two guards walking up the hall had suddenly stopped at his cell and one pulled from his sleeved what appeared to be keys. The guard grunted a bit as he shuffled the keys on the chain. He paused when he found the right one and entered, revealing two other figures standing in the doorway. “Be this the one ye’ve been prattlin’ about?” The voice was gruff; it sounded dwarven in a way, but from the man's size that was out of the question. The two men behind the first guard nodded and one, the skinny one entered and picked me up, his arms underneath both my shoulders. Avaris assumed they thought him still sleeping so he played along and continued as he was. Not that it was easy. The two carrying him almost dropped him twice while ascending into whatever courthouse or grand hall they meant to transport him to. The trip was short and within minutes Avaris barely had time to react as he was thrown onto the carpeted floor beneath him. His muscles ached much as he rose to face the man at his front.
“Ah, yes, so our friend is well and alert after all!” A smooth voice sounded while Avaris recovered from the impact of the fall and got to his feet. The thief’s gaze found the speaker with ease. He was a short man, adorned in all manners of silk and linen and a robe meant for someone of much larger stature.
“Allow me to introduce myself, I am Arajin D’ar but one as yourself would refer to me as, Sir.”
“I think I like Arajin better. But if you insist, you may call me sir.” Avaris was now standing feet away from Arajin staring down upon him.
Arajin snorted and began again;“I see… no matter then. There is a matter that has come before me where a man of your talents is needed. Would you be interested in such work?
“Who would hire me?” Avaris asked, his senses all suddenly sharp as before his capture.
“Have you not guessed yet? I would.”
“And you are?”
“Arajin the Pink, Master Transmuter.”
“What do you offer that I might hire myself to a man titled ‘Pink’?”
“If we are successful, possible fame, wealth. Also, if you do not accept I will simply have you thrown back into that pit from which you came.”
“Very well, I accept your conditions so far. But what would I be expected to do?”
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| Tyreal Nyquis |
Posted - 09 Dec 2002 : 04:20:49
More? Indeed more there is, or rather, more therer will be. I have not completed it yet but the moment I do I will be sure to post it here or perhaps, submit it to this Campaign Log you speak of. It would be a great honor indeed to have it immortalized among the other works there. |
| Alaundo |
Posted - 08 Dec 2002 : 19:38:35
Well Met Tyreal Nyquis
A very nice tale and interesting read! Youve got my attention, is there any more to this tale? Im anxious to read more of this and indeed include your work within Candlekeep itself.
Please contact me should you be interested in having your thiefs tale within the Campaign Logs section.
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| Tyreal Nyquis |
Posted - 08 Dec 2002 : 17:56:36
I based the story on one of my characters from DnD but other than that it is from scratch. Thanks for the compliment and I hope to see one of your own stories here soon too. |
| The Defence Minister |
Posted - 08 Dec 2002 : 17:47:03
Nice story!!!
Did you write it from scratch or is it based on one of you sessions of D&D?
I will write and post some stories soon.
TDM |
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