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Something to read

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Joined: 22 Apr 2003
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PostPosted: Fri Aug 15, 2003 4:48 pm    Post subject: Something to read Reply with quote


The leaders were always well taken care of in the Shadow Thieves. Lucrative deals and skilled "acquisition" experts brought in mounds of gold and platinum. And who would you expect to get a significant piece of the pie? Your expectation would be correct.

But gold was not the most valuable or the most fun bonus afforded the Masters. Powerful magic protected the lives of the leadership. Similar magic could bring life back from the brink. Promises had been made to protect each other in the case of a threat. Promises?

One of Khaveen's favorite perks of the job had been the "companionship" readily available at any time. Those who knew him well knew his weakness for the fairer sex. He heard the snickers by those around him when he stopped paying full attention to the conversation in order to watch a select passerby. He heard them. He ignored them. But he was no fool.


An oath had been required of each member of the Shadow Thieves. Betrayal was punishable by swift and painful death. Further oaths had been taken by the Masters with regard to certain confidential endeavors. Guild secrets could not be divulged. Information could not be, would not be, allowed to fall into the wrong hands, or anyone's hands for that matter.

An undisclosed number of attempts to gain secret details of the Shadow Thieves guild had been made, whether it was to attain the identity of the leadership, or details of future plans, or of guild capabilities. A favorite espionage method used against the Shadows was to take advantage of entertainment functions to subtley glean information. It was often a fruitful tactic when not expected, but never against the Shadows. That is, never... until recently...

Khaveen had used the method far too many times on the enemies of the Shadows to be foolish or careless when it came to his own leisure activities. But someone had broken an oath. Someone had let something undesirable infiltrate the heart of the Shadows. Someone had divulged a Masters' secret. Lives were at stake. Reputation was at stake.

What enemy had the audacity to even attempt an infiltration?

Who "on the inside" had facilitated the infiltration?

Who was the d*mned, yet admiringly skillful, spy who pulled the deed off?

What Master could have allowed such a breach of confidentiality? Was it intentional or out of sheer carelessness?

What would the future hold for the guild, the spy, or the Masters?

Sep Caldessian
Shadow Master

Sep was sitting at his normal table in the tavern. Corner seating, back to the wall, no windows on that side of the room...all standard for a man of his profession. What was not the same was the way he had been overtly looking around at people. It was obvious he was on his guard about something. Not to say he wasnt normally on guard, but today he seems...almost jittery. Nerves of this nature are frowned upon in his profession. It was a dead giveaway in any interrogation.

Sep was also a tad careless this morning. To the untrained eyes, he was a mere bard in a tavern. But to those who are trained in the arts of silence and stealth, Sep appeared to have rushed himself this morning. The hilt of a throwing blade peeked out from under his cloak collar about a quarter inch. The dull black hilt gave him away as a man who was expecting trouble. Upon closer inspection, one with suffucient training could also see the same type of throwing blade hilt protruding from the sleeve of his cloak near each wrist. That made three visible weapons, which in turn meant at least three more that could not be seen.

Something was amiss this fine morning.

Darius Locken

Darius wandered into the tavern, giving Sep a quick nod before moving to the bar for a drink. He flipped his bright red hair to side, revealing the gently-pointed ears of a half-elf.

He knew his masters were on edge, you don't get this close to them and perform... special projects... without hearing the murmurings and whispers of trouble. He wasn't sure what the problem was, but it distracted him from his studies. His new direction in the pursuit of the dark arts has been... complicated. His talent with magic had never been strong, but shadow dancing seemed a good way to supplement his talents.

He had briefly considered pursuing the skills of an assassin, but his good nature turned him off to it. The memory of that brief foray into the darker profession reminded him of his half-brother, Kylen.

Condemned to the torture chambers of Aram for crimes against the city, he'd been broken down into a shadow of the man he once was. His precious little knowledge of magic gone, Darius's informants had heard stories of the fallen ranger honing his combat ability in the wilds north of Cormyr, and perfecting his skills in assassination on the streets of the Kingdom in the dark of night.

Darius mused while sipping at his beer. Kylen had been headed back into the west at the last report, could he be responsible for the fear rippling through the leadership of the guild? He was not an opponent to be underestimated, and his new devotion to Cyric was particularly disturbing. With the aid of a truly ruthless god, Kylen would stop at nothing for revenge on the man who had toppled him from his pinnacle in Aram, and Darius didn't know if he had the power to stop him.

Shaking his head, Darius finished his drink and motioned for Sep to play something lighter, more upbeat. Thoughts of Kylen would keep him awake this night, he would like to at least be in a good mood before he left.


Darius didn't know why he had been asked to keep an eye on Sep. He thought it was to protect the man. He had been given no reason to think otherwise.


In the secluded back room of a crowded town pub, a woman's throat had just been cut. Blood pumped out of her slowly at first, then in a gush. The woman had never committed a crime before, or even made a single enemy in all her life. And she would never get the chance to.


Khaveen pondered the notes on his desk. Attaining the identity of the foreign spy had been elementary. Yet, finding her location was proving troublesome. Infliction of extreme emotional distress would eventually cause her to make herself known. The death of each of her family members would be completed that night. It was only a matter of time now.


Axel, quite an accomplished wax and oil merchant, had just finished closing up shop for the evening. Profits rolled in every day for the man, for he had a way with people. His silver tongue could even convince a farmer to use Harmonian Whale Blubber to lubricate his wagon wheels instead of the standard Grease Crude. Each evening, Axel would pray for his sister's health and prosperity. Eleven years ago, she disappeared in the dead of night from their parents' home. She hadn't been seen or heard from since. After midnight, Axel would never be heard from again either. But he would be seen.

Sep Caldessian
Shadow Master

Sep had been in the tavern longer than usual this morning. Not to say that he wasn't there a lot, what with ale and women, where else was a Bard to hang out?

Today, however, Sep had not left his seat at all. He hadn't even followed the cute new elf that came in to get a drink. This was highly unlikely behavior. He just sat and sang, and ordered mug after mug of ale. He appeared drunk to most of the patrons, but a trained eye would be able to see him checking his reach on his weapons. This was also highly irregular. Sep was always more careful than this....

Darius Locken

Sitting in the corner with my back to the wall, I took another sip of my beer. It had grown warm over the hours of the early afternoon, but too much alcohol could dull the senses and slow down reaction time. Too little, and I might appear on-edge, overly anxious about the storm I somehow knew was coming. I'd reached about the right level to appear relaxed while being anything but. Sep's apprehension was clear to the world, and he was beginning to stink like the musk that rises from the unwashed armor bin at the garrison training yard. That was an aura I had no desire to give off when whoever was coming finally showed up.

It was warm and it was cheap, but it was a house specialty in my hand and holding it kept up appearances in the slowly dimming tavern. As the sun began to slip below the horizon like a ship leaving home for a long voyage I raised the mug to my lips again and sipped, ignoring the desire to draw my cheeks and pout my lips in response to the bitterness of the beer. The glass hadn't been cleaned well enough either, unless Mishka had sprinkled sand into the keg for added texture. While I wouldn't put it past the old coot - he was always trying to make his "specials" stand out somehow - I suspected the easier explanation was more likely correct. The washboys were simply lazy with so many customers to serve.

It really was getting packed in here, and earlier than usual. Heat fading from the setting sun was more than replaced by the sheer number of bodies packing in. Mishka ran a popular joint, importing all the finest drinks of the Sword Coast and bringing in some of the finest entertainers when he discovered he couldn't sell his own vintage swill to dying dwarf who'd just crossed Anuaroch without a water flask for more than a copper or two.

Despite the appearance of its usual jubilation, the crowd in Mishka's didn't seem quite right tonight. There was a tension in the air that made me uncomfortable in a way I couldn't quite put my finger on. It wasn't an outward danger, nor a nervousness that comes with knowing trouble is looming. It was the kind of discomfort that comes from uncertainty. Clearly something was going to happen here tonight, but I couldn't decide if it was going to turn out better or worse for me.

Kylen had slipped from my mind some time ago, but the strange discomfort brought him to my attention again. If he were in the city, things would get bad. And fast. I doubted he was though, or I'd have heard of it by now. No, Kylen wouldn't be here for Sep, either. Khaveen had asked me to watch Sep for a reason, I just wasn't sure what it was. It was natural to assume it was for his own protection - the man was good, but sometime you need a shade watching over you. I couldn't shake the feeling that something about the situation wasn't right, though.

Did Khaveen expect me to discover something about Sep? Could it be that our master bard wasn't on the up-and-up with the guildmaster? I didn't think so. This led me to another thought. If I sent to watch Sep, was someone else in here sent to watch me? Could it be a test then, or an execution?

With one gentle motion I dropped my hand and set the mug down on the table, eliciting a small clink from glass on wood. The other hand dropped beneath my cloak, gently checking the hilt of a dagger strapped to my side. It was too tight in here now to draw the rapier or turn my shield, I'd have to rely on the smaller blade if things got ugly.

Rising slowly, I moved to a table near Sep. As I dropped into the chair, my back was now exposed. My dagger was also in-hand under table. I allowed my eyes to slowly glaze as I watched the man strumming at his harp, turning my focus to my ears instead, preparing for someone to approach from behind while hoping that I was wrong about all this...


Jess McCord was not always of the strongest mind. She had reason to ally herself with the Band of the Hennas. But as usual, she hadn't thought through the consequences of her actions. Deceiving and conning came naturally, and she found the practice quite exciting. But the Band had taken advantage of her skills. They had used her, uncaringly putting her life in mortal danger.


Khaveen held a parchment up to the light, inspecting it for the fifth time for the hidden marking. It was there... still. It was the first time he had received a letter marked so. It was the only time that particular informant had reported. Never had there been a need for him to report, thankfully. Until that day. The information in that note was not enough to complete the puzzle. The note alone would not have even cried out the existence of a puzzle. Regardless, one of the watchers of a Master had signed... with the symbol of the yellow rat.


Jess's entire family was dead. Word reached her within hours of the deaths. There was no question why they had been killed or who had done it. The excitement of the evening two weeks ago had been so greatly enhanced by the danger she had been facing. She knew she was risking her life, and that was part of the reason she had agreed. She was completely willing to give up her own life for the thrill, for the ultimate satisfaction. Never would she have done it if she realized the full consequences to those she loved. Her life was over as she had known it. It was probably over, period. She sobbed through the entire night. Barely conscious at the break of dawn, she collapsed in her bed in a fitful half-sleep.


Perod Jaspery was a man of impeccable dress. Even when associating with drunkard buddies, he was the best dressed of them all. Although his clothes were always clean and unwrinkled, they were of only modest cut. He radiated an air of pride in his person. He stood out in any room, by his manner, by his appearance, and by his voice. An unusual deep, yet squeaky voice.

Perod had joined the Hennas nearly three years ago, only a year after their founding. While the Band had been extremely suspicious of spies in their midst, they never gave Perod a second thought as a mole. His distinctive persona made him such an aweful spy in their eyes. That is what made him the best spy, in truth. He was secretly a spy for the grandest band of associates in the land.


Four confirmed sources had seen Sep leaving the Fourth Finger tavern at midnight, two weeks ago. The time was precise. The location was precise. The sources were reliable. Khaveen balled his fist, swinging across his desk, yet striking only air. Fury boiled in his mind, in his stomach, in his heart... Lapses were simply unacceptable with so much at stake. "Oh bloody h*ll!!! What have you forced me to do?!"


Perod was born with a very plain voice. At the Shadow Thieves institute of espionage, or Stioe for short, voice inflection experts, and enunciation specialists had spent two years with him to develop his new voice tone. His once sloppy and plain wardrobe had been replaced with sturdy, sharp outfits. Everything about him was customized and tweaked. Perod had been the pride of his class, yet he never met any of his classmates.

Having gained an ear with the Band's second lieutenant, his reports were considered of superb reliability. Almost two weeks ago, he had sent a priority message to Khaveen, signed with the symbol of a yellow owl. The message revealed that a Shadow Master had been compromised, manipulated perhaps, into speaking the names of two key politicians that were on the Shadow Thieves payroll. The method of compromise was listed as 'welcome coercion'.


Awakening at mid-day, Jess felt lifeless. Her residence was dark, with no windows, and only a single exit. She went through the motions of her morning routine with very little care. Her depression was more than she could bare. She almost felt like she didn't exist, disconnected from her body, not really there, not really in control.

In the hardest of times, she had a favorite place to be, a small cafe three blocks away. Without thinking, she began the stroll to her old hangout. The sun would do her good. The walk would help her think. At least she remembered to put on her disguise wig on the way out. The same wig she wore two weeks ago, during a certain evening party, at a certain town pub.

Numerous eyes were out that day, watching. Several had seen Jess on that infamous evening. They knew what to look for. Soon, they found it.

Before Jess could react, a black bag was thrust over her head. She thought about resisting, but she knew it was coming, she knew it was inevitable. She did not care. At least the nightmare would be over soon.

Jess answered every posed question truthfully and openly. She would at least maintain a modicum of honor in her last moments...

Many bodies died that day. Even more souls perished.


Everything was clear now to Khaveen. The politicians had been dealt with. Their identities had been compromised. Only the Masters had known their names.

The breach had occured exactly two weeks ago. The Trickster was with Khaveen that evening, finalizing the contracts of alliance for the month. Sep was confirmed as performing at the Fourth Finger, and entertaining himself afterward. That left only one unaccounted for Master. Reports from the interrogation revealed the rest.

Fourteen directives were immediately issued to various operatives. Preparations were made. A rarely-needed emergency guild meeting was called. All Masters were required, as well as certain other key guild members.


Darius was sitting at a table in the tavern, growing more nervous by the minute. A cute, young brunette woman approached him from the side and whispered something in his ear before leaving the tavern. A few minutes later, Darius felt the underside of the table to recover the note the girl had deftly planted. The note simply depicted a shield and then a circle. The shield meant a clarification in his current mission directive. And he thanked himself for having paid attention when a former Master described the circle he had once received in a note and what it meant. It was an immediate summons to the guildhall.


An innocent looking young man entered the tavern, watching with wide eyes at the buxom waitresses, seemingly caught up in the merriment of the crowd. Sep saw the man in a different light. He watched as an urgent message was delivered to him in subtle movements and gestures.


Major changes were about to take place in the power structure of the Shadow Thieves.

Darius Locken

The small parchment felt crisp and dry in my hand, the ink faint and barely visible unless you knew what you were looking for. The shield was crude, some sort of iron tower carried by the militia of a long forgotten kingdom, but it's meaning was plain. The council of masters was in turmoil and someone thought Master Sep was in danger. I wasn't here to watch him, I was here to protect him.

That wasn't the surprising part though. As I slowly passed the palm of my left hand over the flame of the small wax candle at my table, I pondered the simple circle encompassing the shield. An urgent call to the guildhall. That didn't happen often.

My eyes narrowed slightly and my lips pulled into the faintest grimace as the parchment caught flame, its dry edges eagerly pulling the heat of the candle into it as though it wanted to be destroyed. The withered page was gone in an instant, leaving an angry red blotch on my hand that wouldn't fade until morning - the only sign of its passing other than the briefest flash of light as the flames consumed it.

A small bead of sweat welled up on the back of my neck and slowly trickled its way down under my shirt. I didn't know whether it was from the heat or the intoxicating mix of alcohol, fear and excitement. Taking a deep breath for calm I slowly reached forward to take up the fresh mug on the table, letting the breath back out in a quiet sigh as the glass cooled the lightly-throbbing burn.

I nodded to Sep and slowly rose, the chair sliding back from the table with the strange shriek of wood rubbing on wood. Placing the mug back down on the table, I casually tossed a pair of coppers down next to it and turned away. The sun had falled completely behind the horizon now, and a few of the torches within the tavern had been lit. Mishka liked to wait as long as possible to set them burnign to save money on the wood. Sometimes the dwarf was as cheap as his beer.

A loud creak accompanied by a forceful gust of wind opened the door to the tavern. I made my way over to the bar to give my thanks to Mishka before departing, as I did every night. No need to appear out of the ordinary. THe lighting of the room dropped perceptibly as the gusting wind overpowered many of the torches nearest the door. I briefly passed words with Mishka, then I saw the stranger as I turned.

Sep saw him first, I was sure, but continued playing as though nothing were amiss. He didn't even look in my direction, but during a break from his harp playing when he tilted his head back to croon a particularly high note I saw his fingers flash briefly in my direction. I knew what he wanted, and melted into the shadows as I had only recently learned how to do in the middle of a crowded room. My dagger was out of my sheath and nestled in my hand with the same quick comfort as though the motion came to me as naturally as breathing.

The man wasn't very skilled, making a bee-line for Sep. It was almost too easy getting behind him and bringing my dagger up into striking position. Keeping my beathing regular and avoiding any errant footfalls, I brought the blade up and into his lung from behind just as he raised the tiny crossbow to take aim at Sep. The blood running down my hand was thin and sticky, smelling faintly of iron that the humans around me probably wouldn't detect. I moved slowly to slide him casually into a chair near my side when my ears perked up. It really had been too easy, and I'd erred.

Dropping the man heavily to the floor, I spun and flung my dagger out at the next man in line. It caught him the gut, low and to side, failing to stop his advance. Swinging my wooden shield up with my left hand, I grunted as my burned hand took the force of the blow when it connected with his jaw. He dropped to the floor like a stone.

The man behind him already had a short sword out, and I had no time to draw mine. With a quick leap I catapulted into him, bringing him to the ground and rolling away. Some of the other patrons saw his weapon and moved quickly to restrain him. I let out a sigh of relief and then my eyes met those of the true assassin.

Dressed in black from head to toe, he was invisible unless you were looking right at him. A talented assassin, I hadn't even heard him come in. Nor had I heard the gentle rustles of his cloak as he drew out the small crossbow, or the faint click as he cocked it. I knew none of these things as they occured, but became aware of them the instant I saw the weapon pointed at me. I waited calmly for the click of the trigger, to feel the doubtlessly poisoned dart enter my shoulder. I hoped I would be able to kill him and make it to the guildhall healer before the poison took me, but I didn't know if I would.

Fortunately, I wouldn't have to. Sep had seen the first men come in. He had waited patiently as I dispatched the thugs brought in to distract us. He had kept singing and strumming away at his lute, looking like he hadn't a clue about what was going on around him. When the assassin had revealed himself to me and prepared to make his kill, no one else in the room could see him. No one else except Sep.

Before I could blink an eye, the assassin had a sword impaled in his chest. Sep must have thrown his sword at the man and then seemlessly continued playing his song. I couldn't remember Sep ever using such a sword before, just like the blade style I use. But the halfling has never ceased to surprise me.

With a loud crash the assassin fell to the floor, and the hapless patrons surrounding him jumped back in astonishment as the man seemed to appear from nowhere. Sep walked over to me and took my shoulder.

"We're wanted at the hall," he murumured simply.

I got up and followed him promptly, before the guards arrived. Looking around, I spotted a familiar halfling in the corner, watching us closely, nervously. I was surprised to see him. Could he be at the center of this storm?

I quickly made my way into the street behind Sep and we headed for the guildhall.
Edited By Khaveen on 07/26/03 15:16:56

Sep Caldessian
Shadow Master

Pulling the hood of his cloak over his head, Sep moves into the alley behind the tavern. He taps Darius as they pass another corner, and Sep leads Darius away from their path to the Guildhall.

"I know a better way" Sep whispered.

They went past the butcher shop and hit the alley there. Sep paused near a barrell of discarded meat parts. The stench was insulting and repelling. Sep reached behind the barrell and hit a lever which opened up a trap door. The descended into the crawlway, and when they came to the door, Sep paused and disarmed a trap that would fool all but the best in the guild. There were only two others who knew this trap. This was the Master's secret entrance to the guildhall. Why Sep had decided to show Darius this way, meant either his promotion to Masterdom, or his exile into the after life. Sep opened the door and Darius followed him into the room where Khaveen was seated, smoking his pipe and flipping a coin over his knuckles repeatedly. Sep rushed toward the desk, and Darius followed right behind.

All of a sudden, Sep leaps into the air, and does a backflip over Darius. It was a maneuver that seemed to happen in slow motion, and that little singing Halfling made it look easy. Darius turned to look at Sep and saw that he was now surrounded by 4 cloaked figures kneeling down in the ready stance of many a thief prepared to spring into battle. Sep reset the trapdoor and strolled over to where Khaveen was sitting.

"As you have wished Master..."


The evening's events had been difficult for everyone. Some of what had happened earlier in the day had been heartbreaking. Fortunately, things were orchestrated well, and tomorrow, everyone who was still alive would move on with their changed lives.


Earlier in the day, Zarkos and Khaveen had met to discuss the apparent leak of information. Zarkos explained it all and proposed the actions that were ultimately being taken that day. His remorse over some of his prior actions was clear, and Khaveen felt too much of a friendship with the halfling to exact an excessive punishment. In truth, it was a mistake any of them could have made.

Regardless, Zarkos was no longer a Master. He stripped himself of the title voluntarily and agreed to the required oath that would allow him to continue his life. He was extremely lucky to walk away with his life that day, and he appreciated that fact fully. He would be under constant watch, he knew, but at least he could continue the work he loved and the friendships he had built...


The hallucinogenic compound, known to some as lipsedo, was not widely available. It was a non-toxic, granular solid, very much like salt or sugar, that never completely dissolved in a drink. For this reason, it was rarely used by thieves and assassins. It was also not commonly known among those in the profession. The usual effect of consuming lipsedo was visions, paranoia, and often hostile episodes brought on by a strong desire to kill those perceived as trying to cause the subject harm. The drug would wear off within an hour with no memory of events during the episodes. Mishka, the pub owner and long time ally of the Shadow Thieves, had fulfilled his part. Although he couldn't understand why it was asked of him, he had performed as instructed and would never speak of it.


Sep had done an excellent acting job that day. While knowing exactly what was about to happen, he still put on his show, both his musical performance and his act of being disturbed, anxious, and afraid. Normally, he wouldn't have needed to get involved with such events, but today was very important. It was his choice to be there.


As a prospective future Master, Darius was under the constant eye of the guild. Everything he did or said was a test. What he ate, even how he ate, was a test. It all had to be to ensure that only the best and most trusted would have the kind of access and responsibility that the Masters enjoyed.

Darius had failed his ongoing test. Unable to contain his pride at being considered for the Mastership position, he had bragged to a young lady at a party about his power. He had mentioned the names of two politicians he knew he could control to impress the woman. To win her favor, he promised to tell her more and more. He was intoxicated by the excitement she brought him. That was the first time that Darius and Jess had met. The fact that it was the only time was the single thing that would keep Darius alive.


Each of them took a seat around the room. Khaveen sat back in his chair, strangly calm for what was about to happen. Zarkos had entered the room quietly and took a seat in the corner. Trickster sat in his favorite chair, silently watching the scene. Sep took a chair across from Darius, near the trap door. Drinks and smokes were distributed to those who desired them, and then the doors were locked. The four elite guards faded to the shadows around the room, ready if needed.

Khaveen began finally. "We are here to discuss Darius' future in the organization. His outstanding contributions, developed contacts, and profitable endeavors have helped us shine in ways we weren't able to before. For all that, we thank you, and that is why we have been watching you closely."

Sep had been keeping a close watch on Darius' eyes. They were showing the full signs. The drug had now worn off completely, and Sep sat back in his chair, nodding to the others.

Zarkos stood and addressed those in the room. "I need to make a confession. A few weeks ago, Darius and I were having a conversation, and I told him about the two officials in the city works division. It didn't really occur to me that it would be a problem, as I knew today was coming. 'He will be a Master soon anyway, so what harm can it have?' I thought... I am truly sorry. Effective immediately, I am removing my Mastership ring." Zarkos then walked toward the main guildhall door and exited. Darius watched on nervously as he finally realized what this had all been about.

Khaveen explained to Darius, "You allowed a guild secret to be divulged, and for that we must take action. You know the rules. However, for the good you have done for the membership, we will not exact the ultimate punishment."

Darius nodded. He knew he was very lucky that day.


Darius was led out of the guild hall and into the hands of the city militia. He would be held in a maximum security cell in the dungeons under heavy, well trained guard for a long time. He had gone on a rampage, killing five innocent people in the tavern that night. Tens of witnesses would later identify him as the man and the sword left at the scene as his own...
"Here comes Halfling death!"
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PostWed 08/20/03 5:16am
(( Here comes halfling death .. what happened to that halfie? ))  Reply with quote
PostWed 08/20/03 1:12pm
((he is around))  Reply with quote
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