(DF) Within Throwing Distance


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4/24/2011 21:44:33

extreme wizard
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Prologue
Many things had happened is Mae Pi's inn before, but this was a first. The stranger had shown up half an hour ago, ordering some soup. A short beard grew on his chin, and his skin was a light tan. He had dark, deep-set eyes and black hair that came down just above his eyebrows. He wore a fedora hat, a white shirt, brown pants, and a long, dark brown trenchcoat; a tell-tale sign of trouble in Mae Pi's mind. He had seen plently of bounty hunters come waltzing into his establishment, starting up trouble, thinking that their coat would conceal their weapons entirely. But this man seemed different, he did not have the usual selective eye that searched the room for an individual, instead his gaze moved steadlily around, as if every living soul in the room was armed to the teeth and ready to kill him. It turned out that was actually the case.

The first sign of anything wrong happened when the man stood up to leave and three men stepped into his way at the door. All three held clubs, with equally brutal-looking faces belonging to the wielder. The man stopped.

The first of the men blocking the door said, "Where do you think you're going, Petros?"

The man called Petros looked up and answered, "Through you, if that has to be the case." The first man nodded his head, stepping forward as his two goons did the same. They brandished their clubs in front of them, waiting on their target's move.

How did they find me? Petros thought to himself. No matter, there are only three of them, piece of cake.
As if reading his mind, every man in the cafe stood on signal from the men by the door. Each one of them held a weapon of some kind, clubs, daggers, the occasional sword. All had murderous looks in their eyes.

"Well, I'm sorry it has to be like this." said Petros calmly. He reached into his coat and removed two curved throwing knives from their place in his coat. Each were 8 inches long, curving back gently from the small grips at the base.

"Looks like we have ourselves a thrower, eh boys?" one of the men said with a confident chuckle. It was replaced with a cry of terror as a knife flew through to air, hitting his chest with a thud.

"Kill him!" screamed a man standing by a stool, near the edge of the room.

The second knife spun into the mob, cutting across the throats of 2 men and dropping them to the ground. Petros pulled 3 stone balls tied to a center-point by a cord from his jacket, a bola, and threw it at a man who ran toward him. The bola caught his legs and he toppled to the ground. As a 5th man ran toward him, Petros lashed out with his heel and struck him dead in the chest. The air was knocked from the man's lungs and he fell, unconscious. The 6th and 7th man fell in a similar manner, each dropping from another well-placed kick.

Petros ducked as a chair was hurled at him, narrowly missing his head. He saw yet another armed man near him and he threw a punch into his nose. The last man standing stood at the door, mouth hanging open. "Wh-, who are you?!"

Petros looked into his eyes, his dark look penetrating into the man's very being. "There are more dead men than living ones who have that information. I'd recommend that you don't try to join them." He stepped out the door and disappeared into the night.

< Message edited by extreme wizard -- 4/26/2011 18:22:29 >

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Post #: 1

4/24/2011 22:36:18

extreme wizard
Member

Chapter 1: Chasing Memories
Get out of town. Quickly. Don't stop for anything. Escape is all that matters now. Petros thought to himself. After the incident at the cafe, he was eager to leave town. He knew why those men were attacking him, but he had no idea how his enemies had found him that easily. He had his suspicions, and he knew that his only chance of survival was to run. Fast.

As he moved through the dark, dangerous streets of Osprey Cove, he thought back on his past. He had been born in Dragesvard 28 years ago, the child of a sorceress and a Brilhado. As he grew older, his father took an interest in the dragons that seemed to plague the area constantly, and so his mother had to put up with both her husband and son's antics. His father had taken a liking to flying with the ice dragons, as they didn't seem to mind him as long as he kept well away from the younglings. But one day, the flight took him by the treasure hoard of a particularly territorial dragon who had a violent past. The dragon took flight and struck the curious Brilhado from the sky, killing him on impact. Now living without a father, Petros had to learn how to protect himself without the guiding hand of a father to help him in his studies. At age 18, his mother had sent him off to school to learn sorcery, as she had. He was shakey in his magical ability, as he studied a very limited amount of spells. He did develop a devastating ice arrow spell, but magic was of no interest to him. After 3 years at the school, he had run away. Having lived in the cold climate of Dragesvard for his entire life, he wanted to explore the warmth of the Sandsea now that he was free.

But living alone in the desert had been a horrific experience for him. After 2 days wandering the desert alone, he collapsed from thirst and nearly died there in the sand. But as he had looked into the burning horizon, he saw a small caravan of people moving in his direction. He was found not by civilians or merchants, as he thought, but by a group of traveling rangers who were highly skilled with throwing weapons in place of the traditional bow. He was reluctantly accepted into the group on request of Annalia, a girl a year younger than he had been. She had inherited her father's skill as a golemancer, and so she helped the rangers by creating sand golems to draw attack away from them in battle. Annalia had taken a liking to Petros, and the two became friends. That soon changed.

After living for four years with the rangers, he had become as skilled as any of them with their method of combat, as well as hand-to-hand fighting. Then they had gotten a job to track down a thief who had been robbing some of the smaller desert villages in the Sandsea, Tananius. What wasn't known about him at the time was that he had trained for years as a paladin, before defecting to evil and eventually becoming a deathknight. Many rangers fell in the brawl, and Petros was forced to choose between saving Annalia's best friend or the ranger captain, who had taught him everything he knew. He had chosen the latter, and Annalia became his enemy. She attempted to kill him and eventually framed him for the murder of the very ranger he had saved. He had been forced to leave the entire Sandsea by bounty hunters and rangers that constantly chased him, wanting the money on his head. He lived the next three years in Osprey Cove, finding it easy to blend in with the criminals and pirates that populated the city. Until now.

But who is trying to kill me this time? Bounty hunters, Annalia, or maybe something worse? He thought to himself as he moved silently through the alleyways and streets of the city.

The dark thoughts in his head were insignificant compared to the evil at work around him. Petros shivered as thunder rumbled through the sky.

A storm was coming.

< Message edited by extreme wizard -- 4/25/2011 17:27:27 >

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Post #: 2

4/25/2011 18:33:21

extreme wizard
Member

Chapter 2: One Step Forward, Two Steps Up
Petros moved further from the city, using the rain as cover. The sky had seemed to burst into tears, liquid sorrow falling to earth in horizontal seas, reducing visability to a few feet. As he moved through the city, Petros thought to himself. I know how to escape the city, I know enough of it's back streets. But when I get out, where do I go? I could hide out in the forest for a time until I can meet up with some old friends, but I doubt any of them would come to my aid now that I'm being hunted again. What do I do?

He stopped and moved behind a few crates as two men came into view. One wore a long robe, the kind mages wear. It was difficult to see the color, but it looked to be a light gray. He had an impressive beard reaching down to his waist, with traces of white snaking through. The other man was the polar opposite of the first; he looked young, heavily built with enormous muscles covering his entire body. He wore a light green shirt and brown trousers, and had a bag hanging from his belt. As Petros watched the men, they both stopped suddenly and looked in his direction. The older man spoke quickly to his partner, and the two moved toward his hiding spot. Petros removed a slender tomahawk from his jacket and steeled himself for a fight.

Petros was now in earshot of the men now that they stood only about 5 feet from his position, separated only by some brush and a large crate. "Is that 'im?" the younger man asked.

"Aye, that's him all right." said the older.

The young man looked nervous, "What do we do?"

"Hello there! Don't worry, we are not here to hurt you!" said the old man. "My name is Fractae, and my friend here is Jonathan. We were told that we would find you in this city."

Petros edged out from behind the crate, "How did you know where I was hiding? You can barely see in this rain."

"I am, er, was an AeroMancer professor. I taught students for many years until golems assaulted the University and utterly destroyed it. I have been studying magic since I was eleven, and I have also learned the art of telepathy. I found you by locating your thoughts." Fractae looked to his friend, "Tell him about yourself, Jon."

The big man looked nervously up at the sky, and said "I'm Jonathan, or Jon, and Ima Berserker. Ya' know what they do, eh mate? I learned to fight from the great Rolith himself, at least for a time. But the man is busy, I oughta say, and 'e didn't 'ave time for mah training after awhile. So I left and eventually met up with Fractae in Falconreach. He's like a father to me."

Petros looked into his eyes and saw honesty. "All right," he said, "I believe that you don't want to kill me." He stood up and put his tomahawk back into his coat. "But who sent you to find me?"

Fractae and Jon looked at each other. The former answered in a hushed tone, "That would be a secret. We know very little about our employer ourselves. He only contacts us through messengers."

"That doesn't seem to be a good work enthnic. But I really need to get moving." Petros responded.

"Right, we're here to get you out of the city so you can meet with our boss. He says there is something important you must do." Fractae said.

Petros' expression darkened. "How will you get me out of here when half the world wants me dead? There are hundreds of people searching for me as we speak!"

Fractae smiled. "I picked up a few tricks over my years studying magic. Stand still." He lifted a wand from his robe pocket and pointed it at Petros. Instantly, his appearance changed. His trenchcoat turned to steel plate, his hat to an armored helmet. When the transformation finished, an armored knight stood in Petros' place, with plain silver armor covering his entire body. The helmet completely covered his face and he had grown several inches.

He examined his new look, "That's impressive." he said.

"Thank you, now you shouldn't be recognized by anyone and the rain will keep people from looking too closely anyway." said Fractae.

They hustled through the rain, which hadn't let up in the slightest, and moved to the edge of the city. A guard checkpoint stood on the path out of town. The grumbling guards waved them quickly through and mumbled about the rain. A mile out of the city, Petros was returned to his normal appearance. He looked back at the town that had held him for three years, now full of hatred and hungering for blood, his blood. He fell back a few steps from his rescuers as he thought, but looking forward caused him to stop dead in his tracks. It had been impossible to see in the rain, which now had faded away to a drizzle, but a small detail stood out on Jonathan's right hand. A small, black ring, decorated with a burning skull was worn on his finger. The last time Petros had seen that ring, it was on the hand of Tananius, the DeathKnight who had fought the rangers years earlier.

< Message edited by extreme wizard -- 4/25/2011 19:18:03 >

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Post #: 3

4/25/2011 21:26:12

extreme wizard
Member

Chapter 3: Redemption
"Don't move, slave of Darkness!" shouted Petros as he drew two throwing knives from his coat.

Jonathan saw that Petros' eyes rested on him, "Huh? What are you talking about?"

"Your ring. It has only been worn on the DeathKnight Tananius' hand. I know who you really are!" Petros said as he slipped into combat stance.

Fractae's eyes widened and he looked at his young companion. "Is this true, my friend?"

Jonathan's face showed surprise. He looked at his ring. "This ring was my initiation gift into the Berserker ranks, all new Berserkers get one. I'm not a DeathKnight." He spat out that last word like it tasted sour in his mouth.

Shock showed on Petros' face as he made the realization. Tananius had killed over half of the ranger troop on his own, because he possessed the power of a DeathKnight and the rage of a Berserker. He was more powerful than I thought. So he could have escaped from us before we could kill him. I don't remember seeing the killing blow, so I must assume that he is alive. thought Petros.

"I-I apologize." said Petros. "It's just that I had a bad experience with a man wearing one of those rings before, many years ago. He was a DeathKnight that my ranger troop was told to bring in, but he killed many of our men and forced me to make a choice. A choice that turned a friend against me and started my life as a fugitive."

Sorrow was clearly visible in Fractae and Jonathan's eyes. They could imagine the pain their new friend had felt. "My friend," Fractae began, "I know you must feel hatred for the entire DeathKnight order, and maybe the Berserkers too, but the man you fought does not represent the whole of those groups. There are many noble DeathKnights, and more than a few Berserkers have fought on the side of good, as you did. But your enemy chose his path, and even though it intersected, and re-routed yours, that does not make the world your enemy. It just means that you have an opprotunity, a new start, if you will. You can choose to lead the life you were forced into as a fugitive, or redeem yourself. You did nothing wrong, and you have the ability to repair the damage done to your legacy. I have hardly known you for a day, but I can sense the steel in your bones, the fire in your soul, and the greatness in your destiny."

Petros looked at the old man, moved by his words. What he said had been true; he had felt hatred for all DeathKnights and now Berserkers since his days as a ranger ended. But his new friend was absolutely right. He would repair the damage done and purge that evil from the world. His life would be redeemed.

"You're right." he said. "I will make things right again."

Fractae smiled. "As I know you can."

Jonathan reached into the bag at his waist and withdrew a map. He looked at the parchment for a few moments, then spoke. "We be gettin' close to our dess-ten-ation."

The trio walked for five more minutes. They stopped at the place marked on their map, and waited. They lit a small fire, and Fractae magically channeled the smoke away from the sky, to avoid revealing their position. When night fell, they heard a twig snap. All three of them crouched, suddenly alert.

A man stepped out of the shadows, wearing a gray travelers robe that covered his entire body. He pulled his hood back, revealing the face of the master Paladin, Artix. "Good work you two, you found him." He said to Fractae and Jonathan.

"Artix is your employer?" Petros asked.

"We hads no idea! 'Tis a my-strey to us 'till he showed up now." Jonathan replied.

Artix removed the robe entirely, his Paladin armor was now visible. "Yes, I hired them to find you for me, but because of some...complications, I couldn't reveal my identity to them. If it was found out, then I could be expelled from the Order or Paladins or killed."

Petros looked at him. "But why? What could be so sensitive that the highest-ranked Paladin could be expelled for telling it?"

Artix quickly scanned the horizon, checking for spies. "This is very dangerous information, listen carefully." he said. "A new Paladin was recently inducted into the Order. His name is Tananius. I can see by your expression that you know him, and he has shown that he is as crafty a diplomat as he is a warrior. He was able to worm his way into the upper ranks of the Order quickly, and when it was found that he was a DeathKnight, mixed reactions were shown. Many Paladins see him as a way to create peace with the DeathKnights and Necromancers and avoid any more fighting against them, and Tananius used those thoughts to his advantage. He convinced many high-seated Paladins to agree to merging the DeathKnight and Paladin Orders. He took the place as co-leader of the new group, alongside me, but he is exploiting his new status to allow him access to the most treasured artifacts of the Kingdom. King Alteon's sword was put into DeathKnight possession volountarily, as a gift to ensure their alleigance. But Tananius is now using it as his personal weapon. He is gaining power, both political and physical, faster than any of us imagined. He has already tried once to take my place in the Order, and very nearly succeeded. He has too much support from the older Paladins, as well as all of the DeathKnights and Necromancers, so he is nearly impossible to oppose without being accused of jealousy or even treason. Can you believe this? DeathKnights now have support from the crown."

Petros had been standing quietly, now he spoke. "I see the gravity of the situation, but what do you need me for?"

Artix replied, "I now know that Tananius plans to assassinate King Alteon. I was able to overhear that much from one of the private meetings the DeathKnights have every so often. But there is nothing I can do without being accused of treason, as I stated earlier. That's why I need you to help keep king Alteon safe."

"But why choose me? There are hundreds of other people to choose from, and I'm a wanted fugitive." asked Petros.

"I consulted with the royal seer on this." Artix said. "She looked into the future of King Alteon and saw him killed or overthrown in every vision but one. In that one vision, a long and bloody war is started, but the Kingdom is saved by a skilled knife-thrower falsely accused of murder. That knife-thrower matched your appearance perfectly."

Petros shook his head. "You think I can save a kingdom?"

"Yes. You're the only one who can." Artix answered.

"Why am I the only one who can do this? Did your seer tell you that too?!" spat Petros.

Artix smiled. "Actually, yes. In most visions, the hero didn't know enough about his enemy to survive, nor were they clever enough to avoid capture. You trained with rangers for years, you studied magic as well, and you have fought Tananius before. You also have been hiding from the law for 3 years without being caught. And, of course, your father is a Brilhado. You inherited some of their ability, correct?"

Petros looked at Artix suspiciously, saying, "How do you know so much about me?"

"Do you remember your father ever going to the Necropolis?" asked Artix with a sly grin.

Petros showed a quizzical look. "Yes, he went on a trip there when I was 9."

"Your father knew mine. Yours came to the school for a time to experience a human school, and he met my dad there. They became friends and kept in touch over the years, even when your father went back to the Brilhado. He visited us occasionally, and always told stories about you." said Artix.

"All right," said Petros with a sigh. "I'll do it. Any friend of my father's deserves my friendship as well."

"I wish you luck." Artix said. "But I did manage to get a little something to help you on your journey."

Artix reached over his shoulder and removed a long, rectangular case from his back, attached by a strap to his shoulder. He opened it and unwrapped a beautiful double-bladed black lance. The 4-foot shaft was relatively short compared to other spears, but the blade and craftsmanship more than made up for it. The bottom blade was roughly 10 inches long and 5 wide at the base. The small blade was set into a V-shaped blade guard. It was razor-sharp and gleamed even in dim light after the storm, but the upper blade is what defined the weapon. This blade was nearly a foot-and-a-half long, double-edged, and fastened by a silver X to the shaft. Runes glowed faintly on the flat of the blade, radiating unseen power.

"This is the Lunar Saviour Lance." said Artix. "It is said to have been a gift from the moon to Doomwood, to use for defense against impending doom. It has power unlike any other weapon on Lore, but it is up to you to discover it." He looked up at Petros. "You can save us with this weapon. I know it." He handed the legendary lance to Petros, the runes glowed slightly brighter as Petros' hand gripped the shaft.

Artix moved to leave. "I need to go before I am missed by the Paladins. I wish you luck. Goodbye, and may God be on your side." And with that, he picked up his robe and left, slowly vanishing into the forest.

Petros looked at the weapon in his hand, it seemed to speak to him. Go. Save the King and save the Kingdom. I will help you. Petros gripped the weapon tighter. I will. He thought. I will.

< Message edited by extreme wizard -- 4/26/2011 17:05:24 >

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Post #: 4

4/26/2011 18:17:23

extreme wizard
Member

"My friends," Petros said in a confident tone. "It looks like we have a king to save."

Fractae and Jonathan looked at each other. The Berserker answered, "Aye, I'll be a'fightin' on your side. Whuts tah plan?"

Petros thought for a moment, his eyebrows knitted together, "We will have to get into the castle, a difficult task since I am a fugitive. Then we'll have to survive a DeathKnight's assassins, while keeping the King safe. Then expose Tananius to the world as the murderer he is." He sighed. "Just this morning my only real worry was if I would be found by any guards, now I have a Kingdom's safety on my shoulders."

"I know of a spell that can cause invisibility by making the caster not reflect light. We need a minor light orb to cast it though. I think I have a few at my home near Willowshire." Fractae said.

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