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03-08-2005, 06:01 AM
The Iksar set in the shadows, feeling his scales became coated in water as the rain poured down from the Antonican sky. The gray clouds and torrential rain were enough to blind most humans and elves, but it wouldn’t fool an Iksar assassin for a moment. His clear eyelids protected his vision, and his enchanted totem let him see the heat that came from any hidden prey that would try and escape his sight. He slowly pulled back his bow string after notching an arrow. He brought the string to its arc and eased it back to its resting position, had to make sure the string had not become water-logged. The Wood Elves came down the pass, their brown tunics and trousers caked with mud and leaves to camouflage themselves from any enemies lurking in the shadows. Shrie moved fluidly across the rain softened ground as they came around the boulder in the road, her senses eased, they had made it to Anotica and had stopped 3 bandits who sought to kill their ward. There was little to worry about in her native woods, she could spot so much as a single branch that was out of place. Unfortunately her problem didn’t lie in the trees. The Iksar sighted down his bow, slowly leading the Wood Elf Ranger from his makeshift trapdoor. He smiled as he decided he had a shot ready, and he released the arrow. Shrie felt a shard pain in her neck before collapsing to the ground. She fell into shock as blood began to cover her chest. Her companion, a Barbarian Guardian, ran forward to try and help her, but the arrow exploded as he approached throwing him stunned to the ground. As he leap upwards he felt something behind him, and he quickly swung around. An Iksar assassin stood behind him, a spear and dagger drawn and a bow slung behind his back. As the Guardian attempted to reach for his Claymore, his hands felt nothing but pain. The Iksar has managed to slice through the Barbarian’s gauntlets with the spear he was wielding. Though the Barbarian fought through the pain and unsheathed his weapon and swung it at the head of the assassin in a fluid motion, but the lizard man moved too quickly, and parried the sword with his spear, as he riposted with his dagger, catching the Guardian between a small crevice that lay in between his torque and breastplate. The Barbarian convulsed immediately and slumped to the ground as the Iksar pulled his dagger free. The Iksar then crept up to the dead body of Shrie, and opened a small pouch on her belt; in it was a small piece of paper, less than a few hands long and 3 finger widths wide. As small a parchment as it was, it had already taken 8 lives to claim it. The Iksar then pulled out another totem from his bag and slid it around in his clawed fingers, and he felt magic swirl around him until he took the guise of a Half Elf, and he then slid away from the mangled bodies of the now slain defenders of the parchment.---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The old Wizard looked through his orb of divination discovered the bodies of the Elf and Barbarian he had paid so much to. He screamed in anger as he saw that all that was taken was the map he had spent 18 years searching for, the 18 most frustrating years of his life. The map itself was worthless or course, just some paper with a crude drawing of a ship and a language that was only readable to very few people. But what it led to was worth more gold than anyone could imagine, and had already cost more lives than the Plague War of centuries past.“Come to me Uthorn.” said the old wizard as he put the orb down. “Your friend needs you once again.”---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Iksar had managed to slip through Qeynos without any close calls, his disguise worked better than he had hoped. He booked passage on board a fishing boat to the Commonlands; the boat never made it more than a few miles out of port though. As the pirate sloop Calamitous sunk the ship, and took the disguised Iksar on board.“You’re still the best Assassin to ever grace the Scale Yard.” Said the captain of the Calamitous as he smiled at the Iksar. “Find out what the paper is?The Iksar dispelled the magic changing his form as looked at the Captain, a slim and fairly clean shaven Half Elf. “No Erold, I do not know, maybe you could look at it and find out.” Said the lizard man as he dropped the parchment on the table next to him. Erold picked up the paper and skimmed his eyes over it, and then shook his head.“Well the drawing looks like a strange barge, and the writing is unidentifiable to me, we can take it to the Academy in Freeport and see what they can tell us. Did you have a hard time recovering it Steak?” replied Erold as he put the paper back down and sipped from his tankard. The lizard man smiled for a moment, his friends called him Steak, since no one, including the Iksar, had any clue as to his proper name. Steak was raised by an elderly Barbarian man who said he was owned by his family. Steak’s father was known to be a kind master to his slaves, so it was little wonder that his most trusted servant would raise his son after he had perished. But the Barbarian refused to tell Steak his father’s name, or his own, he said there was too much shame in it for the young Iksar. Steak used to be bothered by that, but when he met Erold and told him the story, Erold shed some light for Steak.“That just means you can start your very own legend, with no weight of another’s previous accomplishments or follies to lessen your image.” The Half Elf told him, this seemed to put everything in perspective for the Iksar, who had till then felt like he was a pariah. Steak walked out of Erold’s cabin to his very own on the ship. He wanted to get some different cloths on, as his armor was filthy, and all the Wood Elf’s blood was still on him, he hated that smell.------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Uthorn approached the decrepit lighthouse on its own island just east of the Thundering Steppes coastline. The ancient Ogre approached the tower of his old friend, from before the shattering, the great High Elf Wizard Onica. The Ogre had befriended the wizard after he had saved him from a Dragon in the old wastes of Velious. After that, the Ogre became the personal bodyguard of the Elven Wizard. The Ogre was massive, more so than most his brethren, he carried with him a near ancient great spear, the Wurm Slayer. The Ogre had a feeling he would once again use his massive weapon to secure yet another artifact for Onica’s immense library.