From: daedragonsblade@aol.com (Dae Dragonsblade)
Date: 02 Jan 2001 16:17:27 EST
Dusk...
The lights of the buildings around RhyDin flickered on in an erratic wave.
The sky was tinted a blinding orange, and under that a royal violet, below that ocean blue and finally midnight black.
The Sun and it's court of clouds faced off against the Moon and it's bevy
of stars like two ancient duelists competing for supremacy in the ring, these warriors and their squires stood at opposite ends of the sky, and wrestled for supremacy in the dome of the earth. Eventually, the Sun was chased off to the West, and the Moon began to assimilate the sky to it's fancy for it's reign before the Sun regrouped and launched a counterattack, which would be met by another counter.
Daelin Dragonsblade, the twenty-seven year old Regent King of Dragonia,
watched the dance of the heavenly orbs with a peaceful look settling across his richly tanned skin. His almond brown tresses were swept up in the wind and he had a feeling of deep longing, but at the same time....a resting sensation.
"HEY! Move out of the way!"
Daelin's thoughts were ripped from his mind quickly as he turned and observed
a group of young boys tearing up the street, nimbly dodging carts, horses, people, and even the modern, technological vehicles of some RhyDin citizens. He smiled warmly as they passed him..it was then that he noticed the silken bundle.
"Scoundrels! Theives!! Stop them!"
The shopkeeper and the mercenaries he had hired to protect his store blundered
up the street after the boys. The shopkeeper gasped loudly a few feet away from Daelin, his hands (the size of two plump hams), were placed upon his knees as he struggled to gain his breath. His red, exhausted, well-fed face looked up the street to make sure the muscle he had hired were continuing the chase of the rogues. He then glanced over to Daelin, the golden chain around his neck sparkling once in the last light of day.
"Hey. I know you. Daelin Dragonsblade! You're great. I won alot of money on your fights in the basement. I go watch all the time. You're really something. My friends say you're a tough customer behind the Inn too."
The plump shopkeeper grinned at this. Mayhaps he was forming a plan that
Daelin wasn't aware of, or maybe he was just a happy fellow, even though he had just been robbed. Either way, Daelin turned to him, as if just then pretending to pay attention to him. His emerald eyes brought up a steely gaze, and he brought a black leather gloved right-hand up to his cheek as if to scratch something.
"Yes, I am." He responded at first, not sure of what else to say at that.
"I'm glad all you people see us as are means to make your own ends. Shouldn't you be helping apprehend those young men who just robbed you?" All of a sudden, Daelin felt sick of standing in the midst of all these people. An ailment that had become all to common for him around RhyDin as of late.
"Yes. Sorry to have bothered you. Umm, err..." The shopkeeper paused a moment, glancing to Daelin as if he wanted something but was much to humbled to ask now.
"What is it?" Daelin let out an exhasperated query, whirling on his brown leathered boots. The act causing the bright royal blue cloak and hood around him to flutter up and behind him.
"Could you...err, help them? I know it's alot to ask..but with you're skills you should be able to easily catch them and enforce punishment. I'm willing to pay you. 300. In gold."
Daelin shrugged casually. The blue silk shirt cascading with ripples on cue
with the action. The First Baronial Ring on the gold chain around his neck tumbling as well.
"Your money. Your problem. Your solution."
With that, he turned and moved across the street, dodging the obstacles almost
as neatly as the thieves had done just moments ago. Moving into a dark corner, littered with trash, vermin and a drunk or drug-laced human being wasting away here and there. Daelin viciously pulled open the wooden handle of a door and stepped into the dimly lit tavern with about 4 patrons, all at the bar.
Outside, on the main street. The shopkeeper gathered himself and glared
cooly after Daelin, his face turning red once more. This time out of anger and embarrasment, instead of fatigue.
"No good bastard. Didn't need you're bloody help anyway. I'm glad that place you love so much is falling apart at the seams."
With that, he continued his chase...
(Dead) Eye of the Dragon, Part I
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From: daedragonsblade@aol.com (Dae Dragonsblade)
Date: 02 Jan 2001 17:54:52 EST
The small, back-alley shoebox-sized
tavern was doused in the mixed aroma of cheap liquor and even cheaper cigarettes. Daelin paused in the doorframe, the four patrons at the bar turning around to obseve the newcomer, then shrugging and turning back to the bar.
The cock-eyed bartender warily
obseved his newest patron clad in the blue cloak, a blue hood pulled over his head, to about mid-forehead. The black leather detailed gloves, blue silk shirt and black cotton pants with the cuffs neatly rolled up to expose the brown leather boots. He cleared his throat once, then went back to shining the dingy glass with the equally (if not worse off) filthy bar rag.
'Nice service..Nice place'. Daelin
thought wistfully, still fuming from the sudden urge to get away from RhyDin. He stepped a little in from the doorframe, which was to say, he was almost in the middle of the bar due to it's size. He kept his hood on, and his eyes leveled on the front entrance.
He hated waiting, and if he had to
wait for two more...the front entrance was then filled with a black shadow, upon stepping into the light, the figure only slightly shorter than Daelin himself, was brought into view. Clad in a forest green cloak himself, the hem adorned with gold leaf-and-vine embrodiering..a newly added touch..the figure moved passed the patrons, the bartender and tossed a roll of paper to Daelin..before continuing up the partially-hidden in darkness staircase.
Daelin, not following immediately,
unravelled the scrap of paper, and read over it. Immediately, the feeling of disgust that previously had overridden him disappeared, he read over the paper again and smiled:
Deadalus Enterprises, Inc.
7703 Hidden Way, Box 102, 5th Apartment
Folding the paper over in his hand, Daelin retained the smile as he glanced around the tavern and moved to the stairs himself. Ascending, at his own pace, his eyes adjusted to the even dimmer light, but the space was amazingly wider than downstairs, a door to the forefront of the hallway remained open and the light
beaming out of it seemed largely out of place in the bleakness of the makeshift inn. Reaching to the black and silver sheath behind him, he quickly snatched the almost-invisible smoke colored blade free..it's silver hilt glowing omniously in the half-light, half-dark of the hallway.
His breathing settled to a quiet
whisper, and he strained to pick up sounds inside of the opened room. No such luck..but that was expected. Lowering himself to his haunches, Daelin inched along the wall to the doorframe of the room, then quickly rolled into the quarters, popping up and slashing blade out hard..
Into air..his intended target no where to be seen, then he felt it. The ebony wood crossbow came partially into view from behind him and the sharpened steel point on the quarrel pressed viciously into his neck. The voice, seemingly drenched in a dark aura broke the silence before people generally see the "light at the end of the tunnel".
"Dodge this."
He quickly thrust a foot out behind him, blindly seeking the groin area with the flat of his foot. Success! The opposition falling to the floor behind him as he spun around, leveling the double-edged blade of Calamity to the neck of the attacker, all-the-while maintaining the grin he'd carried up from downstairs.
"God. You suck. Should have done it while you had the chance. Your finesse has always been your weak spot. You're late too."
The attacker grumbled, and then groaned loudly as the pain from the bombard of Daelin's foot finally set in for the long haul, and made it's presence known...loudly.
"Yeah. Well..your mother always liked finesse. Damn. I'm not late, I saw you walk in about 10 seconds before I did. I was watching you scream at that fat guy across the street, that your new girlfriend? And..why'd you kick me so hard?"
He had finally shifted to a sitting position, and pulled himself up to sit on the bed the process taking a few moments and making Talroon Deadeye, a seasoned mercenary and assassin, and top-ranking officer of Dragonia's Guard, seem like a decrepit old man.
Daelin grinned all the while through
watching his childhood friend, and comrade-in-arms, struggle in pain...exaggerated pain, no less.
"You needed to be kicked..hard. What do you know about girlfriends? You've never had any." A serious tone then set over Daelin's features, he took a seat in a chair, opposite Talroon, his hand deftly moving back to close the door.
"The address? These are the people for sure then?"
Talroon nodded gravely at the inquiry.
The stage of the pain put behind him as well as he shared the serious overtone of his commander and confidant.
"Yeah. They've got it, I've seen it on more than one occassion. Delievering it to a buyer..." Talroon paused a moment, his granite-gray eyes travelling to Daelin before he finished summarizing the events. "..in Dragonia, by the name of Vincent. No last name though."
Daelin nodded quickly, as though he
didn't hear the last part, that would be a mistake however. He was piecing the puzzle together in his mind. He finally looked up..
"We should follow them then. I need a vacation from this city."
Talroon frowned at that. He cracked
his knuckles out of a force of habit. His own hands enveloped in black leather gloves, muffling the sound like a watch swaddled in cotton cloths.
"When? Don't you have some things to wrap up with your franchise and doesn't that Scottish guy want that thing on your neck?"
Daelin shrugged casually, the First
Ring, "that thing on his neck" in question at that time, dangling on it's chain once more.
"I'm not worried about that. It will be dealt with accordingly. As for the Burning Blades, we have a lull after next week."
Talroon nodded thoughtfully. Pushing
the forest-green hood back from his head, he raked his black-gloved fingers through his blonde hair in a deciding gesture.
"Fine with me. I'll go check on that address some more then. I'll get things ready to go and tell your brother we're coming back and we'll have company. By the way, are the Roman and that gypsy even ready?"
Daelin turned to go, pausing at the question. He hadn't even thought about the other two variables. He slid Calamity to it's sheath on his back, and balled his fists for a moment, then unravelled them.
"Yes. They're going, and they'll be ready. Soon enough. Don't go back to the address directly. We don't want them to know just yet. Peel them back one at a time and follow them, see what else turns up. As for Genn, don't tell him we're bringing company aside from the two known. Just say we'll be on our way soon enough and don't look for a specific time."
Daelin swiftly moved out of the room, and Talroon could hear him bounding down the stairs, picking up the crossbow, he leveled it at a nearby wall..his granite eyes squinting just above the sight.
He opened his eyes suddenly and lowered the crossbow, propping it up against a wall and gazing at the open door.
"Fine..suit yourself."
Date: 02 Jan 2001 17:54:52 EST
The small, back-alley shoebox-sized
tavern was doused in the mixed aroma of cheap liquor and even cheaper cigarettes. Daelin paused in the doorframe, the four patrons at the bar turning around to obseve the newcomer, then shrugging and turning back to the bar.
The cock-eyed bartender warily
obseved his newest patron clad in the blue cloak, a blue hood pulled over his head, to about mid-forehead. The black leather detailed gloves, blue silk shirt and black cotton pants with the cuffs neatly rolled up to expose the brown leather boots. He cleared his throat once, then went back to shining the dingy glass with the equally (if not worse off) filthy bar rag.
'Nice service..Nice place'. Daelin
thought wistfully, still fuming from the sudden urge to get away from RhyDin. He stepped a little in from the doorframe, which was to say, he was almost in the middle of the bar due to it's size. He kept his hood on, and his eyes leveled on the front entrance.
He hated waiting, and if he had to
wait for two more...the front entrance was then filled with a black shadow, upon stepping into the light, the figure only slightly shorter than Daelin himself, was brought into view. Clad in a forest green cloak himself, the hem adorned with gold leaf-and-vine embrodiering..a newly added touch..the figure moved passed the patrons, the bartender and tossed a roll of paper to Daelin..before continuing up the partially-hidden in darkness staircase.
Daelin, not following immediately,
unravelled the scrap of paper, and read over it. Immediately, the feeling of disgust that previously had overridden him disappeared, he read over the paper again and smiled:
Deadalus Enterprises, Inc.
7703 Hidden Way, Box 102, 5th Apartment
Folding the paper over in his hand, Daelin retained the smile as he glanced around the tavern and moved to the stairs himself. Ascending, at his own pace, his eyes adjusted to the even dimmer light, but the space was amazingly wider than downstairs, a door to the forefront of the hallway remained open and the light
beaming out of it seemed largely out of place in the bleakness of the makeshift inn. Reaching to the black and silver sheath behind him, he quickly snatched the almost-invisible smoke colored blade free..it's silver hilt glowing omniously in the half-light, half-dark of the hallway.
His breathing settled to a quiet
whisper, and he strained to pick up sounds inside of the opened room. No such luck..but that was expected. Lowering himself to his haunches, Daelin inched along the wall to the doorframe of the room, then quickly rolled into the quarters, popping up and slashing blade out hard..
Into air..his intended target no where to be seen, then he felt it. The ebony wood crossbow came partially into view from behind him and the sharpened steel point on the quarrel pressed viciously into his neck. The voice, seemingly drenched in a dark aura broke the silence before people generally see the "light at the end of the tunnel".
"Dodge this."
He quickly thrust a foot out behind him, blindly seeking the groin area with the flat of his foot. Success! The opposition falling to the floor behind him as he spun around, leveling the double-edged blade of Calamity to the neck of the attacker, all-the-while maintaining the grin he'd carried up from downstairs.
"God. You suck. Should have done it while you had the chance. Your finesse has always been your weak spot. You're late too."
The attacker grumbled, and then groaned loudly as the pain from the bombard of Daelin's foot finally set in for the long haul, and made it's presence known...loudly.
"Yeah. Well..your mother always liked finesse. Damn. I'm not late, I saw you walk in about 10 seconds before I did. I was watching you scream at that fat guy across the street, that your new girlfriend? And..why'd you kick me so hard?"
He had finally shifted to a sitting position, and pulled himself up to sit on the bed the process taking a few moments and making Talroon Deadeye, a seasoned mercenary and assassin, and top-ranking officer of Dragonia's Guard, seem like a decrepit old man.
Daelin grinned all the while through
watching his childhood friend, and comrade-in-arms, struggle in pain...exaggerated pain, no less.
"You needed to be kicked..hard. What do you know about girlfriends? You've never had any." A serious tone then set over Daelin's features, he took a seat in a chair, opposite Talroon, his hand deftly moving back to close the door.
"The address? These are the people for sure then?"
Talroon nodded gravely at the inquiry.
The stage of the pain put behind him as well as he shared the serious overtone of his commander and confidant.
"Yeah. They've got it, I've seen it on more than one occassion. Delievering it to a buyer..." Talroon paused a moment, his granite-gray eyes travelling to Daelin before he finished summarizing the events. "..in Dragonia, by the name of Vincent. No last name though."
Daelin nodded quickly, as though he
didn't hear the last part, that would be a mistake however. He was piecing the puzzle together in his mind. He finally looked up..
"We should follow them then. I need a vacation from this city."
Talroon frowned at that. He cracked
his knuckles out of a force of habit. His own hands enveloped in black leather gloves, muffling the sound like a watch swaddled in cotton cloths.
"When? Don't you have some things to wrap up with your franchise and doesn't that Scottish guy want that thing on your neck?"
Daelin shrugged casually, the First
Ring, "that thing on his neck" in question at that time, dangling on it's chain once more.
"I'm not worried about that. It will be dealt with accordingly. As for the Burning Blades, we have a lull after next week."
Talroon nodded thoughtfully. Pushing
the forest-green hood back from his head, he raked his black-gloved fingers through his blonde hair in a deciding gesture.
"Fine with me. I'll go check on that address some more then. I'll get things ready to go and tell your brother we're coming back and we'll have company. By the way, are the Roman and that gypsy even ready?"
Daelin turned to go, pausing at the question. He hadn't even thought about the other two variables. He slid Calamity to it's sheath on his back, and balled his fists for a moment, then unravelled them.
"Yes. They're going, and they'll be ready. Soon enough. Don't go back to the address directly. We don't want them to know just yet. Peel them back one at a time and follow them, see what else turns up. As for Genn, don't tell him we're bringing company aside from the two known. Just say we'll be on our way soon enough and don't look for a specific time."
Daelin swiftly moved out of the room, and Talroon could hear him bounding down the stairs, picking up the crossbow, he leveled it at a nearby wall..his granite eyes squinting just above the sight.
He opened his eyes suddenly and lowered the crossbow, propping it up against a wall and gazing at the open door.
"Fine..suit yourself."
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From: talroondeadeye@aol.com (Talroon Deadeye)
Date: 15 Jan 2001 18:43:58 EST
It had almost been a fortnight without any contact form anyone.
That was enough to make someone in Talroon Deadeye's line of work restless and bored. He'd gone to the gypsy's office only to find no sign of her there, or anywhere over the city. The Roman's Villa was still bustling, but Talroon highly doubted he would go anywhere..they had a contract anyway. The last thing he remembered Daelin telling him in the hotel room he was currently renting was not to go back to the Deadalus headquarters. But they both knew
that after a certain amount of time, the assassin would go back.
Over the course of the few weeks, Talroon had followed members of the group and found they were involved in a number of activities. Mainly smuggling, trafficing and other "runs" for out-of-city nobles and high-bidders. Outside the address though, they lead normal lives, some of them had families and spent their leisure time with them.
Two nights prior to the dusk settling outside his window now, he had been on the rooftop of the Deadalus building. No one was there at the time, but he had spotted the object which was still in plain-sight without any sign of it being moved quickly.
Whoever this Vincent was, he obviously didn't need the artifact until much later. Lying on his back, Talroon pondered all of this. He was frequently trying to piece together a portrait of situations when he had nothing else to do. Maybe it was a force of habit from a lack of boredom, maybe it was assassin intuition.
"That would seem obvious." he thought suddenly. " It's rather useless without the other parts of the story, I doubt that story is even true."
It had to be true, however. He knew this before he even formed the thought in his head. The Oracle in the northern mountains of Dragonia had pointed that out to him many times. He was to bear the sole responsibility of ushering everything together. When he first heard it, it seemed unbelievable..how could he accomplish a feat like that? But now..it was more visible, almost tangible. Of course, no one knew this but himself..the Dragonian custom being
not to speak to anyone of your paths.
"It's got to be harder on Daelin, especially." This part said aloud as he rose from the bed and moved to the door, grabbing his forest green, gold-leaf bordered cloak and throwing it on. He opened the door after making sure his crossbow was securely fastened just underneath his knees under the cloak.
"I need a drink, it's going to be a long time before we're leaving now. I can tell."
Slamming the door to his room, he descended the stairs into the tavern, completely deserted and moved out into the freshly powder-snow covered RhyDin streets.
Date: 15 Jan 2001 18:43:58 EST
It had almost been a fortnight without any contact form anyone.
That was enough to make someone in Talroon Deadeye's line of work restless and bored. He'd gone to the gypsy's office only to find no sign of her there, or anywhere over the city. The Roman's Villa was still bustling, but Talroon highly doubted he would go anywhere..they had a contract anyway. The last thing he remembered Daelin telling him in the hotel room he was currently renting was not to go back to the Deadalus headquarters. But they both knew
that after a certain amount of time, the assassin would go back.
Over the course of the few weeks, Talroon had followed members of the group and found they were involved in a number of activities. Mainly smuggling, trafficing and other "runs" for out-of-city nobles and high-bidders. Outside the address though, they lead normal lives, some of them had families and spent their leisure time with them.
Two nights prior to the dusk settling outside his window now, he had been on the rooftop of the Deadalus building. No one was there at the time, but he had spotted the object which was still in plain-sight without any sign of it being moved quickly.
Whoever this Vincent was, he obviously didn't need the artifact until much later. Lying on his back, Talroon pondered all of this. He was frequently trying to piece together a portrait of situations when he had nothing else to do. Maybe it was a force of habit from a lack of boredom, maybe it was assassin intuition.
"That would seem obvious." he thought suddenly. " It's rather useless without the other parts of the story, I doubt that story is even true."
It had to be true, however. He knew this before he even formed the thought in his head. The Oracle in the northern mountains of Dragonia had pointed that out to him many times. He was to bear the sole responsibility of ushering everything together. When he first heard it, it seemed unbelievable..how could he accomplish a feat like that? But now..it was more visible, almost tangible. Of course, no one knew this but himself..the Dragonian custom being
not to speak to anyone of your paths.
"It's got to be harder on Daelin, especially." This part said aloud as he rose from the bed and moved to the door, grabbing his forest green, gold-leaf bordered cloak and throwing it on. He opened the door after making sure his crossbow was securely fastened just underneath his knees under the cloak.
"I need a drink, it's going to be a long time before we're leaving now. I can tell."
Slamming the door to his room, he descended the stairs into the tavern, completely deserted and moved out into the freshly powder-snow covered RhyDin streets.