This is not the sort of job I normally get involved with; this is not what I do. I am no mercenary, and I am no hero, but here I am on some fetch-quest as if I were one. The Duke of Elford reached out to me again, and in a manner which nearly got his emissary sent back to him in pieces.
As far as my wife and child are concerned, I am naught but a blacksmith who travels to seek materials and vend my wares and services. Those who know me as Nomo Goda know that to contact me you do not intrude into my home life, but that is what his man, Percival, did. He walked right into my workshop and called me by the name of my true profession. He is lucky that my wife was elsewhere in the village at that moment.
“Hail, assasin!” he called to me.
I turned and hurled the still hot blade that I had been crafting at him. The weapon struck the door frame next to his head, and set the wood to smoking.
While he goggled at the weapon protruding from the post mere inches from his ear, I crossed the shop, “You do not approach me here at my home, nor do you address me as that,” I pulled a small blade from my apron, and put it to his throat, “You have but moments to tell me why you are here and why you have not contacted me through the correct method before I kill you as a brigand seeking to rob me.”
“Do you know I have am? I am in the agency of the Duke of Elford. He seeks your services,” he replied, sounding more indignant than afraid; fool.
“I care not if you are the king himself. Did the Duke not tell you the correct way to contact me? I know him to be a dullard, and his having you in his employ is clear evidence of that, but I do not think him to be this dim.”
“Yes, but he also said that this was urgent.”
“Urgent enough to cost you your blood? I shall meet you tonight; leave this village immediately or your life, and the Duke's, shall be forfeit!”
I met with Percival that evening, and after leaving him with a cut upon his cheek as a reminder to never approach my home again, obtained the information for my quest, for that is what this truly is. He quickly explained to me that the wizard Malifar seeks the Stone of Agrajag, and that I was to stop him from obtaining it.
While I patiently explained that I am not an adventurer, I placed a cut up Percival's other soft cheek. Through his blubbering he explained that the stone was really a key to unlock the Dented Vault, which is said to contain all manner of foul creatures which would give the wizard the upper hand in his war with the King's army.
I informed Percival that I cared not for politics, and that it was his Duke that framed the wizard for murdering the king's daughter, thereby causing the escalation in hostilities.
“But should Malifar actually defeat the king, it would be ruinous for our lands. It would effect you, and you family as well, Malifar will not put his demons back inside the vault just because he has conquered the seat of power; he will send them to put down resistance everywhere!”
I nearly gave the young idiot another lesson with the tip of my blade, but halted myself. Too many lessons and none of them would be remembered; also, the idiot was correct. I took the first half of my fee, and, after explaining to my wife that I had been approached to craft weapons for the king's army, set out the next day.
And I now find myself here, in a wet and malodorous cave on a fetch-quest. Unfortunately I was beat here. There are tracks on the floor of the cave floor leading down towards my quarry, they are fresh, and they appear to belong to humans and elves.
The one fortuitous thing about coming along behind this group is that they have cleared out the residents of the cave for me, saving me time and effort. I pass the corpses of large arachnids, rodents, and snakes as I and my lantern move deeper. I would almost prefer to deal with the cave-rubbish than the questors though, as I was not hired to kill them, but I expect that it will come to that.
Judging by the tracks, I would say there are three of them, two humans and an elf, and judging by the carnage I pass, they have fought well to get so far. I also spot a few traps, most deactivated, but a couple that appear to have been set off. There are others still that look to be non-functioning. They are all quite deadly; whoever placed the stone here clearly meant for it to remain.
I draw close to the group now; they have set camp, and I can see the smoke from their fire crawling along the cave's ceiling. I extinguish my small lamp at the first sign of life, and finish my approach in darkness.
They sit around the campfire, two men and a women. The man wears an armoured chest-plate that is in poor condition, the woman wears leather, and I would guess her to be the one responsible for disarming the traps. This second man is the elf, and is wearing the robes of a mage. He holds in front of him a jeweled necklace, allowing the firelight to reflect off of it, although I suspect that the main stone, a milky green gem, would put off some light of its own in total darkness.
I briefly consider confronting them, telling them that they have been duped by Malifar, and that they would suffer or die should he succeed, but that opens me up to an unnecessary fight. I am not in the habit of killing people I have not been hired to kill, especially ill-educated adventurers who are only seeking to earn a living with their blades, brawn, and brains. It is, however, always possible that they are not ignorant adventurers; they may well know what they are truly doing.
I decide to listen, watch, and wait. Both to let them seal their own fates and to see an opening to take them all out quickly. As long as they do not seek to break camp, I have plenty of time.
I take an instant dislike to the two men as I observe. The human is a boisterous ass, and the elf reeks of arrogance, although I know not if it is earned. The woman is quiet though, and seems uncertain about what they are doing. Perhaps she is just being observant of her surroundings as is normal for her, or perhaps she knows that what they are doing is wrong.
Perhaps I am getting soft; I should place a knife in each of their throats, take the jewel, and set off for the balance of my pay.
They know, or the men do, that they work for Malifar. They boast of it to the woman, who seems shocked. She is trying not to show it, but I can tell she is loyal to the royal family. The men either do not notice her reactions to their speech of opening the Dented Vault and crushing the king, or they do not view her as enough of a threat for them to care.
That settles it. Pulling a pair of throwing daggers from my cloak, I take aim from the shadows. The blades fly silently, the first burying itself in the throat of the human man, his blood flowing around it down the front of his armour, but that damned elf coughs, and my weapon ends up in his eye instead.
The elf staggers backwards, dropping the necklace, while his companion clutches at his own throat. The woman scrambles away from the fire, seeking the cover of shadows. That is the smart move, but it will not save her should it come to that.
I throw another dagger at the elf, but he is trained well enough to have cast a shield before my second attack can hit him. The dagger stops its movement in midair, and drops to the cave floor.
“My eye!” the elf howls, and begins casting spells wildly in my general direction. I duck out of sight, not out of fear of being struck, as he is almost literally casting blindly, but because I do not wish to have my true location revealed by the light of a passing projectile of flame.
The elf is powerful, but stupid. He continues casting wildly, although not all in my direction now, but at the shadows around him. He curses me, switching from Kingstongue to Elvish and back again as he rambles.
I feel a slight twinge in my chest when I hear the woman cry out; she has been struck by one of the spells. Unfortunate, but that is what happens when you choose poor company.
The sounds of magic goes silent, and I hear the crunch of someone falling to the ground. When I look, I see that the elf has worn himself out and dropped to the ground, breathing heavily and clasping both hands over his ruined eye.
I pull my sword and emerge from my hiding place, ready to leap to the side should this be a ruse and he try casting on me from the ground.
I move quickly. I can see the woman lying slumped against the wall in a far corner of the chamber, but I cannot tell if she is dead or merely unconscious. The human man is most certainly dead, but the elf continues to writhe on the ground.
“Please, do not kill me!” the elf begs once his remaining eye fixes on me.
“I am not here to kill you; you just happened to get in my way,” I say, pointing the tip of my blade at him as I kneel to retrieve the necklace with its magically empowered center stone from the ground, “I am sorry for your eye.”
“Malifar will kill you,” the elf says, trying to put a mask of bravado over the mask of blood that covers much of his face now that he knows that I do not intend to finish him..
“I am not concerned with that foul wizard, and if you value your other eye you will cease making empty threats. I have not been hired to kill you, but do not think that means that I will not. If you think to test my patience then my blade shall drink deeply of your lifeblood,” I say. Talking like a drunken poet seems to be quite effective with wounded opponents.
Before the elf can think of a reply, I turn and leave, concealing the necklace and the stone in the folds of my cloak as I walk.
I must go now, retrieve the rest of my coin, and gods pity any who get in my way.