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Save-vs-DM 02-23-07, 12:48 PM

I wrote a short story about one of my characters, an Aundarian Beguiler. It turned out fairly well, so I thought I'd share it with you guys. Hope you enjoy it! --------------------- Jurian leaned back casually in the chair, holding his cards close to his chest. He’d managed to draw a strong flight of brass dragons this hand, and was looking forward to reaping the large pot. He glanced around the room of the tavern out of long practiced habit, taking in the sights and sounds. The Copper Kettle wasn’t a large tavern by the standards of Sharn, but it was warmly inviting. A roaring fire to his left cast flickering shadows across the small room, which was dotted with a dozen or so small tables, mostly filled with working-class patrons. The well-worn oak bar has dotted with a few drunken shifters, who seemed to be arguing over the size and impressiveness of a new axe. The balding bartender looked on with a grumpy demeanor, clearly annoyed at the inebriated patrons. The player to Jurian’s right played the thief, stealing five galifars from the stakes. Jurian frowned at the dumpy man, an aging human with a large liver spot under his left eye. Quickly composing his face, laying a brass dragon and nodding to liver spot, who silently slid over 5 galifars with a furious look in his eyes. He then nodded to the slight Khoravar to his left, who looked intently at her cards as if considering a bold play. Jurian continued his scan of the room, taking in the lovely harper in the corner, her dark brown tresses falling past her waist. She was a true beauty, and unless he missed his guess, an Aundairan like himself. He was thinking indecent thoughts about her when his gaze slipped over to a corner table, the inhabitants of which looked to be deep in quiet and conspiratorial conversation. His gaze lingered at the table, and he squinted at the two men, focusing his ears and eyes on them. “I’ll not allow any daughter of mine to marry such working class trash, you understand?” whispered the man in the far corner. His garb was simple, but much too finely tailored to be anything but the clothing of a noble. His long face was heavily lined and looked to have been roughly chiseled by an artist without much skill. His large and hawk-like nose dominated his face, easily overpowering the presence of his watery little eyes of a dishwater brown color. Jurian absently laid down his last brass dragon, nodding to the Khoravar, who slid him her only gold dragon, marked with an eleven. Silently cursing her, he focused his attention back to the distant table. “…is nonnegotiable, you understand? I work for the same price, and I’ll do what I can to take care of your problem. Either pay up for leave, your grace,” sneered the noble’s current companion. His form was shrouded in a deep blue cloak, though his voice held slurred tones of Karrnath. Jurian judged him to be around his height, with a slender but powerful build. Most likely some sort of unsavory character, possibly even an assassin. Jurian slowly slid his gaze back to the game, sighing when he realized that the clever Khoravar had played the Druid, meaning her pitifully low hand took the gambit. Sighing and glancing back to the corner table to see the cloaked men rise with a nod to the noble, Jurian pushed back from the table with the muttered apology of “enough for me, tonight.” Jurian casually slide his meager winnings into his coin purse and slid it into his belt pouch, glancing up at the cloaked man as he silently walked out of the tavern. He took stock of his bearing, noting a nimble gait that denoted skill with both blade and stealth. Muttering a prayer to the Traveler under his breath, Jurian followed the man outside with a slow walk, trying not to spook him. The staccato rhythm of rainfall greeted his ears as he pushed the smooth wooden door of the tavern open and strode out into the night air of Sharn. Jurian couldn’t help but to stare at the towering city for a moment, taken back at the sight of it even after two weeks here. Some of the towers rose above the clouds, shrouded in the gloomy mist of the rainy city. Snapping his attention back to his quarry, he quickened his movement just a bit as the man whipped around a corner. Jurian walked around the corner just in time to see the flashing steel dart at his neck. Reacting purely on instinct, Jurian managed to slide to the left, turning the potentially lethal blow into a biting wound in his right shoulder. Wincing in pain and rolling out of the strike with a nimble somersault over to his right, Jurian came up with his rapier in his hand, facing his assailant. The cloaked figure stood outlined in the guttering light of an everburning torch on the distant skybridge, casting his features into harsh profile. He looked to be human, though few humans had skin that pale or drawn. His bloodshot eyes held the look of a madman, and his brittle lips were drawn into a wicked grin. “You shouldn’t have followed me, Aundairan. Now I’ll have to kill you,” whispered the Karrnathi. “You and what army, leatherface?” grinned Jurian as he feinted with his rapier, thrusting directly at his enemy. The Karrnathi fell for the lunge, nimbly sidestepping the blow and grinning at Jurian. That was his mistake, for in that instant Jurian pulled in the power deep within the core of his being, calling up his magic through will and determination. Jurian quickly focused his arcane birthright, molding the arcane matrix into a subtle web of compelling energy. While his opponent’s attention was diverted by the blade, Jurian thrust the web out and into the mind of his assailant, pushing it over his senses through pure surprise. Jurian felt his web meet the mental resistance of his opponent, but he’d rarely met a mind he couldn’t bend to his will when the chips were down. As the Karrnathi fought against the intrusion, Jurian slipped strands of the web through the cracks in his defense and felt the charm fall into place. Nearly as soon as the scuffle had started, it finished with only a whisper from the Karrnathi, along with a smile. “What’s…what’s going on?” stuttered the Karrnathi. “Why are we fighting, my friend?” Jurian grinned a ten galifar smile and quickly sheathed his weapon. “Just a little misunderstanding, my friend. You seemed to think that I was some attacker, and not your partner. It’s all right, it was only a scratch.” Jurian winced slightly and rolled his shoulder, which had mostly stopped bleeding. “Now, before we head out on this job, you want to fill me in on the particulars? Then I can do the dirty work and let you worry about hiding the coin.” The Karrnathi furrowed his brow and stared at Jurian, his magically befuddled mind working through the outrageous bluff. Luckily, the magic web held for just a while longer, and he began speaking in a quiet voice, glancing to the rain-soaked streets to look for passers by. “Just as well, this job didn’t promise to be any fun, probably a better fit for you anyway. Seems this ir’Tain bastard don’t like the idea of his only daughter marrying below her station.” The Karrnathi spat on the ground, clearly showing his disdain for that idea. “So he up and hires me to take care of the kid, some butchers son named Enzo. Lives down in Cliffside, some dumpy place by that fishmongers stall. Paid me well to kill the kid. Thinks that his little princess should be marrying some high falootin’ noble up in Skyway.” Jurian felt a mental shudder and the rise of scarlet anger, but pushed it down and nodded to the Karrnathi. “Well, should be easy enough to handle, I wager. Why don’t you get out of here and let me handle it. You look like you’d enjoy a night in Torchlight anyway” said Jurian in a jovial voice. The Karrnathi looked at him with dull eyes, his mind churning through the new development. Then he broke out into a wide grin and jangled the bulging coin purse. “You know, you’re right. That sounds like a lot more fun than this job. You handle it and meet up later at the Inn.” Jurian grinned and watch the Karrnathi stroll silently down the street, whistling merrily at the thought of forbidden flesh and soft companions. He silently rose and gripped his shoulder, digging in his belt pouch for a thin glass vial. Uncorking it, he downed the potion and felt healing energy zing through his body, knitting his wounds closed. His injury taken care of, he started piecing together what had happened with the new information he’d just learned. So, ugly in the bar wasn’t too happy with his daughter’s choice of husband material. He’d have to do something about that, else that noble might get ideas about the equality of certain citizens. Figured it would be some Brelish bastard with such ideas, you didn’t see that kind of thing in Aundair. Slowly walking down the wet streets, Jurian began to piece together his next plan of action. The first thing would be convincing Ugly that perhaps his action was unwise. Perhaps with a bit of luck, he could convince the bastard that his daughter’s happiness was a bit more important than station. Unfortunately, magic wouldn’t be a big help in that – charms were just too short lived to make that kind of change. But a well played bluff might work a bit better. The first step would be convincing father dearest that his favorite choice was a bad one. Once he’d been shown the error of his first choice, a well played set of words might convince him that his daughter would be better off marrying Enzo. Jurian leaned against the wall of the tavern, finding shelter from the rain under a wooden overhang. He silently worked out his plan, trying to figure out a way to help the girl. He could weave an illusion to make it appear as if the noble were asleep with another woman, but he had no clue what the noble suitor looked like. He’d have to settle for something bit more old fashioned – a heart to heart with father dearest. Though maybe a more convincing appearance and offer might work just a bit better. Perhaps even the whispered promise that the butcher wasn’t what he seemed. Jurian grinned to himself as his plan snapped into being, this was going to be good. Jurian once again called upon the core of his being, the wellspring of magical energy that resided in his very soul. He ran his hands over his head, down his face, and over the rest of his body, muttering nonsense words of arcane power. He felt his entire body tingle as the web of illusion magic reshaped his image into that of a dapper young noble, complete with fine clothing and a handsome face. Checking his reflection in a puddle, he nodded and walked right back into the Copper Kettle. The crowd hadn’t changed very much in the few minutes that Jurian had been gone, though the noble was paying up and readying to leave. Not wasting a moment, Jurian smiled warmly and made his way towards his target, pitching his voice into a booming basso to fit his new face. “Is that the lucky father to be? I can’t tell you how jealous I am” boomed Jurian, smiling warmly at the noble. The noble turned and looked at Jurian, obviously impressed by his illusionary appearance. “I’m sorry, but do I know you?” he asked. “Ah, for once my reputation doesn’t proceed me. Forgive my intrusion, but I am Lord Breyton ir’Jurians, heir to the Thistlefall Wine Fortune. I recognized your face, my lord, but we’ve never actually met” schmoozed Jurian in his best imitation of a self-important noble. “Will you do me the other of letting me buy you some wine, so that I can congratulate you properly?” The noble blinked once, but then a look of greedy recognition spread over his face. He all but rubbed his hands together as he nodded and lead Jurian to a corner table. “So, just what good news were you speaking of, lord ir’Jurians?” asked the noble with an unctuous voice. “Why, the impending nuptials to that rascal Enzo. I’d heard that he’d spirited himself away to Sharn, disguised as some common butcher or some such. Obviously your daughter can spot good breeding from a mile away, for his letter home mentioned that he had finally found a bride worthy of his vast fortune” Jurian said in that all too booming voice. The noble suddenly looked sick to his stomach, a horrible look flashing across his face. He looked around and whimpered quietly. “Is…is that so? My god, she’ll be…thrilled.” “Is something wrong, my good man? The wedding isn’t called off, is it?” queried Jurian, putting a note of alarm into his voice. “I…well, I heard that someone was going to kill the boy. Some terrible assassin, no doubt sent by some jealous rival for my daughter’s hand” stammered the noble, his voice filled with bitter regret at all the coin that was seemingly slipping through his fingers. “Ah, is that it? I heard the same thing, but wouldn’t you know that Enzo’s personal honor guard was taken to task just this night for taking the life of an attempted cutpurse?” said Jurian, not attempting to disguise the obvious humor in his voice. The noble looked up and blinked, his face brightening considerably. Jurian could see the noble suddenly running the information through his mind, his greedy expression belying his need for coin. “Well, is that so? What luck! I thank you for this joyous news. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go and talk to my daughter of wedding preparations!” The noble rose to leave, but Jurian suddenly grabbed his pudgy wrist and pulled him back down into his seat, fixing him with an iron glare. “Not so fast, my lord. We are not through discussing your attempt on the favorite cousin of Queen Aurala. I know what who you hired and what it was for.” As Jurian spoke, he called upon all of his training and pulled more energy from his reserves, channeling arcane might into filing his voice with confidence, power, and the threat of impending death. It was not a common trick, masking spellcasting through words and actions, but it was one he had been glad to master. In times like this, it had proven more than useful. The noble sputtered his denial, but his demeanor wilted in the face of Jurian’s thread. He silently slumped down in his seat and fixed him with a terrified stare. “You wouldn’t possibly say anything. No one would in Sharn would believe you!” Jurian grinned widely and spoke with very even words “that’s very true. But you better believe that Aurala would, and I have her ear. One word, and you’ll not live to see another sunrise. It would be a tragic accident, to be sure, but you’d still be dead. Now, you have to ask yourself if you’d rather live to spend all that gold.” Jurian could actually smell the acrid scent of urine, and the noble went as pale as a sheet. He blinked several times, then spoke in a hoarse whisper “what do you want from me?” “I would think that the sum of ten thousand galifars would be ample compensation for your deeds. After all, isn’t your life worth more than that? I’m more than willing to forget this whole affair for that sum, in the interest of avoiding a messy national incident” stated Jurian calmly. He inwardly smiled to himself, pleased that his risky bluff had paid of so well. “You…you win. You’ll have the coin within the hour, I’ll just have a letter drawn up at house Kundarak. Just wait right here, I’ll be back shortly” stammered the noble. He rose once more, the wet spot on his breeches marking his embarrassment. “You have one hour, if you’re any later I’m off to house Sivis with a missive for her Majesty. I’d not dawdle if you value your life” said Jurian, his voice hard. With those words, the noble scampered out of sight, opening the door to let in a cold blast of night air. Jurian smiled and leaned back in his chair, calling for a glass of wine. True to his word, the noble returned before a half an hour had passed, a letter of credit in his hands. He silently slid it across the table, grimacing at the large amount. “Here, take it and leave. I never want to see your face again” said the noble, his voice full of venom. Jurian just nodded at him, but spoke once more before the noble left. “Oh, and if I ever hear that you’ve mistreated Enzo, or made him feel any less than welcome, I’ll make sure I follow through on my promise. Just think about it while you walk home” whispered Jurian, his voice dripping with malice. With that, the noble rushed out into the night air, presumably returning to his manor to settle his nerves. Jurian looked down at the note, and felt a giddy sense of triumph. With this much coin, he could do almost anything. As his thoughts filled with greed, he felt his left shoulder burn with sudden fire. Wincing in pain, he suddenly stopped that line of thinking – that was what people would expect of someone like him. That he was forever tainted by the aberrant mark burned into his flesh. Well, he could prove them wrong, after all, hadn’t it been his plan from the beginning? Rising and tucking the letter into his scroll case, he stepped out into the night once more. It didn’t take all that long to find Enzo’s place, thanks to the directions of an early rising fishmonger. Jurian silently slipped through the shadows, stopping in front of the Butchers shop. Pausing for a moment, he took out a piece of paper and his quill, and began to fashion a short letter. Dear Enzo, It has come to my attention that you have fallen in love with a certain noble’s daughter. Though you might have been born the son of a Butcher, this coin should more than allow you to take up the life of nobility, should you wish it. I have convinced the father of your love to relent and let you marry, and this money is just what you need to convince him that you have a noble soul. Use it as you best see fit, and have a happy life. - A Traveler Jurian then took the letter of credit, his note, and slide them both into a scroll case, sealed it with wax, and then worked the lock open with practiced ease. He slipped into the building quiet as a mouse, and laid the case on the counter. He then skulked out, locked the door behind him, and walked away into the rain filled night. He started whistling a merry tune, his thoughts already returning to the harper at the Copper Kettle. While they might say to beware the gifts of the Traveler, Jurian couldn’t help but feel that this was one gift that would make the world a better place. Granted, he’d managed to ensorcel a dangerous assassin, a trick that would surely come back to haunt him in a few days. And he’d impersonated a nobleman, tricked a member of one of the most powerful families in Sharn. If the nobleman ever discovered that he’d been duped, Jurian would most certainly be a marked man. Then again, he thought, what fun is life if you never gamble. He’d worry about that tomorrow, for now he had a card game to return to and hopefully some warm company for bed. Cheers, Save vs DM