"Nalagrom, please...take me with you." The night was dark, the smell of burning flesh rising into the air. The light from the bonfire cast a weak orange glow across two people embracing on top of a battlements marking the edge of a small town. The one who had broken the silence was a woman dressed in a shoddily made leather armor, she had long black hair and a soft face. She pulled back from the one she embraced, looking at him with her cool blue eyes, the fire's light doing well to hide their crystalline beauty.

"Even if I could, Sapphire, you know I wouldn't put you in danger." Nalagrom replied, looking down at the ground. He also wore brown leather armor, albeit it looked much better and sturdier than Sapphire's. His face was angular and sharp, but his brown eyes were soft and kind. He wore a brown cloak that draped behind his back as he held the woman he loved, the twin swords at his betl jostling as he moved.

"So you expect me to stay here and calmly wait for you while you and your companions go out to fight a vampire?!" She replied harshly, pushing herself away from his embrace. "Nalagrom, you know this is suicide. Please, let me come with you. I can help!"

Nalagrom's gave drifted to the ground. He closed his eyes and shook his head gently as he clutched his fist. "I can't..."

Nalagrom felt the stinging slap of Sapphires open palm as it crossed his cheek. "You stupid, ignorant man!" She shouted, an obvious choke in her voice. "How could you do this to us?"

Nalagrom winced at her words more than her strike. He took a deep breath and looked at her, a solemn gaze in his eyes. "I never meant to do this, Sapphire. Even though my feelings for you are genuine I still have my duty to the king and his people. If I can help stop this vampire then my conscience will be clean." He raised his hand as she started to sob, placing it gently on her cheek. "I promise, not even the demon lords can keep me from seeing you again." He whispered quietly into her ear. Slowly her gaze lifted to look into his eyes. The air stilled in that moment, the air heavy, and hearts racing. The two leaned in closer to one another and shortly after their lips gently brushed against each other. "Now go..." Nalagrom said as they broke their kiss. "Get to safety."

Sapphire took a step back, tears running down her cheeks. She turned around and began walking away. "You'd better keep your promise." She called over her shoulder before diappearing into the darkness of the village.

"I only wish that I could." Nalagrom said, looking at the pile of burning corpses. He made his way off of the battlements and into the town, no one was out at this time of night that wasn't armed with a spear or bow. They all gave a quick bow of respect whenever Nalagrom walked past them, he would nod in return. Throughout the town there were similar piles of bodies being burnt. This scenario had started two months ago, when a vampire had been summoned from the depths of hell.

Creatures bent solely on destruction, the only way they could be summoned was with a blood sacrifice of ten people and an incanation to Deogora, the demon lord of chaos. The one doing the incanation would then either die on the spot and nothing would come of it or, on a more rare occasion, become a vampire. A creature with supernatural powers that was capable of raising the dead.

This particular vampire had conquered two smaller towns before reaching this town known as Riverfall, and by that time it had already gathered a significantly large force of it's undead minions along the way. The king of the land of Arcantaea had taken notice to this vampire's actions and had put out a call for all adventurers to rally and attempt to slay this vampire. There were twenty at the start of the vampire's siege of riverfall, now only four remained.

Nalagrom soon found himself at his destination, a small inn with a creaky sign hanging over it that read,"The horse's hoof". He opened the door and found himself in what would be a quaint and enjoyable lodging, but with the number of injured villagers and those who had taken to drink to try and escape the worry of their situation the jovial surroundings were completely lost. Sitting by the fireplace, a small fire burning and lighting the large gathering room ever so slightly, were five people who were set apart from the rest.

"Nalagrom!" Came an excited gasp from one of these people. Her name was Arene, a paladin for Ionia, the spirit lord of love. She had shoulder length blonde hair and crisp blue eyes. She wore gore-splattered chainmail and had a shield on her back with Ionia's symbol on it, twin olive branches bent in a way to where they were crossing three times. She was young, having just reached her eighteenth year, and by general consensus she was probably the most beautiful woman in town. She walked up to Nalagrom, giving him a hard hug, which he returned.

Arene quickly released Nalagrom as another woman walked up to Nalagrom. She had fiery red hair that went down to her mid back. She wore long and ornate robes colored white with a brown diamond shape going around her shoulders and neck. Around her neck she wore a necklace with the symbol of Iodale, the spirit lord of wisdom. The pendant was a symbol of three feathers, one right next to the other. Her name was Lucindae, priestess to the spirit lord of Iodale. "How is Sapphire?" She asked calmly, placing her hands inside of the folds of her robes.

"She is...worried." Nalagrom said, giving a deep sigh. "It was difficult to tell her no."

"Either way you are late." Came a familiar voice. Nalagrom looked to the source. It was his brother, Morgalan.

He had long blonde hair that was done in a ponytail that reached down to his back. He was at least a head taller than Nalagrom and wore pure white heavy plate armor that left no inch of his body uncovered. In his arm was a full visor helm of the same color that held three spikes, one at the front and two at each side, that gave the vague appearance of a crown. His face was harsh and filled with judgement as he glared at his brother. "Apologies are difficult, Morgalan."

"Apologies are for the weak, brother." Morgalan replied, standing up and grabbing his massive two handed sword. It was almost as tall as Morgalan's body and gave an intimidating shine as it moved in the light. "I suggest you drop that weakness if you are going to fight a vampire."

"Calm yourself, Morgalan." Came a calm and collected voice. Standing across from Morgalan was a man who wore armor colored gold. He stood about as tall as Nalagrom and wore a black cape that fluttered every now and then with each movement he made. On his chestplate was possibly the most beautiful ornate etching of a dragon that anyone had ever seen. This was Carn, a man who never showed his face to anyone. His armor was never removed, at least not around everyone else. "While we try our best it is obvious that no one could compare to you." His voice had a slight hint of Sarcasm to it, but Morgalan didn't seem to hear that and instead gave a nod.

"So are we finally going to end this? I'm getting tired of all this waiting." A gruff and deep voice growled. Sitting closest to the fire was a large creature, obviously not human, that stood taller than even Morgalan. It had orange fur across most of it's body except for its chest and face area. It wore a leather harness that made an X across its chest and a loincloth, revealing most of its rippling muscles. It was obvious this being was powerful. This was Tarl, part of the Tar'Kuul. The Tar'Kuul were a race of nomadic humanoids that wandered the plains of Arcantaea, a race almost ruled by their anger and impatience, but feared for their power and ferocity.

"That all depends on Morgalan." Carn replied, turning his attention to the man in white armor. "Are we ready to move on the Vampire's citadel?"

"We are ready to wipe this stain from Arcantaea." Morgalan said, sheathing his sword on his back. "And I expect everyone to be ready to die for this cause." He continued, giving a dubious look towards Nalagrom.

Nalagrom clenched his fists, he of all the people in their company had more reason to kill this vampire than the rest of them. He would perform. "Let's go then." Carn commented, turning to the two women of the church. "We'll need you to stay here. If we don't make it back you're the last line of defense. Is this understood?"

The both of them looked at Carn with some surprise, Arene looked like she was about to complain but Lucindae stopped her. "We understand. We'll not get in your way." She replied, giving a glance towards Arene who stepped back and gave a sigh of defeat.

"Then we move." Morgalan said, placing his helm on his head, hiding his face as he stormed through the door of the inn as he was followed by his company.

The four of them trekked through the surrounding forest of Riverfall, where the attacks on the village kept coming and coming. It was silent now, not even the various animals out at this time of night made a noise. It was...unsettling. Even with four torches lighting their path as they moved through the destroyed underbrush that the undead minions of the vampire had left the group could still barely see past their own arms-length. The darkness was unnatural, crushing, seeking to smother them with every step almost.

As the four of them walked through the forest they found that the trees had slowly started to shift from their normal demeanour to something twisted and dark, almost like the tortured souls of the damned had corrupted these roots and molded them to their own desire. To add to the darkness of their situation, the trees would have shilloutes of people who were unlucky enough to face these undead monstrosities and not make it out dangling from long ropes.

Minutes turned into hours and, even though the morning should have been coming the darkness still remained. They still needed their torches and there seemed to be no end in sight. It was then that the group finally came to a clearing with an illuminated path of torches that gave off an eerie green fire. Nalagrom almost threw up when he discovered that these torches, counting sixteen in total, were made of human bones, and the kindling for the fires were the heads of their sixteen companions that they had come here with. "Well this is...disturbing." Carn commented, looking at the grotesque torches.

"Don't let your cowardice get the better of you." Morgalan grunted, his voice echoing inside of his helm. He walked confidently forward, following the path of torches.

The path led up to a large structure, a tall black obelisk with hundreds of dark spikes protruding from it. More green torches illuminated the way up to the top, which stood at least a hundred feet in the air to a large structure at the very top that marked the end of the tower. When they reached the end of the path of torches they found four other torch stands of similar structure, all of them empty. Nalagrom could sense Morgalan's uncertainty now, but his brother's pride wouldn't let him show it ever.

The group came upon a large wall, standing twenty feet high and with a gate adorned with skulls. "Welcome..." Came a quiet whisper as the gates opened with a gust of wind.

"Draw your weapons." Morgalan growled at Nalagrom as he grabbed his large sword and drew it without hesitation. Nalagrom did as he was told, his heart sinking as he stepped into the courtyard surrounding the tower.

When the last of them stepped into the courtyard the gates slammed shut behind them, and a number of green torches lit to illuminate the courtyard. Hundreds upon hundreds of undead slaves stood watching the four adventurers, their eyes had been dug out and there were black stones in each of their foreheads. They made no move to attack the group, who were all ready to fight except for Carn who seemed to have no form of desperation whatsoever.

The group walked slowly through the fields of undead, eventually reaching a door to the tower that stood tall and black. This one, much like the gate, opened with a small gust of wind. The four of them quickly entered, wanting to escape the undead horde that stood behind them. These doors closed behind them as well and, upon doing so, a wave of dread and fear passed over the group, even Morgalan's breath started to grow into gasps.

"Don't be afraid." Came the same whisper that they had heard outside of the gate. Hundreds of green torches lit, showing a winding staircase on the wall that lead to the very top of the tower. "Come, I long for company."

Carn stepped forward, now the bravest of the company it seemed. He walked with a confident step up the staircase, no weapon in hand. He was followed by Tarl, claws sticking out between his knuckles now as he looked left and right nervously. Morgalan shoved Nalagrom to the side, obviously embarrased at his fear as he walked up the staircase. Morgalan was the last to follow, his heart beating faster and faster with each step he took.

The group walked up the stairs, no sign of life in sight. When they reached the top they came to one final door, a door made of human bones. The skulls on this door seemed to look at the adventurers as their eye sockets turned a bright red color, opening up to one final chamber. The vampire's throneroom.

The four adventurers walked inside the room, black pillars reaching up to the roof that seemed to hold the structure up. At the very back of the room was a dark throne, three spikes rising from the back of the chair and into the sky. At the end of the arms of the chair there were two skulls, both painted black with rubies inserted into the eyesockets, that adorned the end of the arms. To the group's surprise, there was no one sitting in the chair.

That was when they heard the doors slam shut. They quickly turned around to confirm that the doors had closed, but there was no one there to close them, like the other two times. Their heads slowly turned around to face the throne again and now, sitting in the throne, was a figure adorned with black robes. A hood went over its head and covered it's face in a dark shadow.

"Welcome my guests." The figure said calmly, standing up from it's sitting spot as it walked down the stairs leading up to it's throne. It's voice was...wrong. There was no other way to describe it. Like there was some form of demonic presence lurking just beneath its calm, almost polite, voice. "You have journeyed long, perhaps you should rest."

Morgalan, quivering in his armor, gripped his sword tightly and gave a loud shout. He charged forward, raising his sword over his head as he roared, and swung down with all his might at the vampire.

The creature, in the blink of an eye, raised it's right hand and caught the sword. Morgalan was shaking now, pushing as hard as he could to try and cut down the vampire who calmly held the giant weapon like it was nothing. That was when Tarl acted. He leapt forward, raising his hands over his head as he swung them both down at the Vampire's head.

With no effort whatsoever, the vampire caught Tarl's clenchd hands with his left hand, holding them there in mid air with no sign of visible strain whatsoever. Tarl, however, seemed to wince in pain as the hand tightened around his fists. "You are quickly reaching the end of my patience, mortals." The vampire said, throwing the two of them backwards into a pair of pillars. "If you are so eager to die, you simply could have asked I give you a swift death."

That was when Nalagrom and Carn charged forward. Nalagrom looked over at his companion for a moment, watching as the armor's arms turned into two large blades. A transformation that he still couldn't get used to. His attention now focused back on the vampire as the two of them started swinging with the intensity of wild animals.

The monster simply ducked in and out of their attacks, making it seem like they were swinging only at the air. With a quick swipe, the vampire knocked Nalagrom away. It may have been just a tap for this supernatural being, but to Nalagrom it was a force that could shatter bones. He flew backwards and slid into his brother, groaning as his ribs felt like they had snapped. This left Carn alone to fight the vampire as he kept fighting with no signs of stopping. After making a wide attack that missed the monster, the vampire raised a fist into the air and struck Carn across his visor, knocking the head clean off and sending it careening into a wall while the body skidded backwards, making a grinding sound as it hit the ground.

Nalagrom somehow managed to get back to his feet, his brother following his example. He saw Tarl get up as well, all of them not in good condition to fight now. "Do you see how fruitless your endeavors are now?" The vampire asked, looking about as it mocked the adventurers. This didn't stop Morgalan and Tarl from charging again, Nalagrom following this time to attack the monster.

None of them could even make contact as the vampire tossed them to the side as if they were nothing, flinging them left and right and causing deep rends in armor. Nalagrom lay alone now in the middle of the floor, Carn's body laying on the ground, no blood coming from the now decapitated armor. Nalagrom groggily looked up at the vampire, every ounce of his body telling him to get up, to run away, to try and move, but nothing would respond as cold desperation gripped his heart.

As the vampire slowly reached out towards Nalagrom's face, a sickening squelch could be heard. Black blood dripped onto Nalagrom's hand as he looked a the vampire's chest. Sticking out of it was a large blade, and behind the vampire stood a hollow suit of armor with no helm on it. "You're...not human." The vampire said, managing to stand up straight now.

It looked as if it was going to say something else, but it was interrupted by Morgalan as he gave one last swing of desperation, decapitating the vampire. A horrid scream was heard, ringing not only in the adventurers' ears, but in their souls as well. The vampire crumbled into dust before them, leaving behind a vile claw that could have once been a human hand.

Nalagrom slowly got to his feet, groaning in pain as he stumbled about. Tarl was quickly there to steady his stance. "It is over." Morgalan said, looking to Carn. "You should count yourself lucky that I was there to save you, Carn."

Carn gave a shrug, retrieving his helm and placing the dented armor back into it's place. It was then that the whole world seemed to start shaking around them, chunks of the roof breaking off to reveal the first light of the sun. "We need to get out of here!" Tarl shouted, releasing Nalagrom.

Tarl, Morgalan, and Carn quickly ran through the door, followed by Nalagrom who was still somewhat groggy. As he started clearing the door a chunk of it fell off, hitting him across the back and trapping him underneath it. It was too heavy to move and the rest of the building was crumbling. Morgalan and Carn stopped to look down at Nalagrom. "Brother, help me!" Nalagrom shouted, reaching out for Morgalan.

"He'll only get in the way at this point, Morgalan. Better to leave him here then get in our way." Carn said, his voice cold and calm.

"Very well." Morgalan said, turning his back on his brother. "We'll continue without him."

Nalagrom tried freeing himself as his eyes filled with desperation. He tried pulling himself free as his companions ran off without him, but to no avail. The last thing he saw was the rest of the roof collapsing upon him.

2: Chapter 1

The moon's glow was hidden on this night by the darkness of the clouds. The torches of the city's watch was all that could be seen outside of the comfort of one's own home, which wasn't all that comfortable now that King Morgalan had taken control of Arcantaea, along with his council of six. Through their reign Arcantaea was split into seven different provinces, almost every last one ruled by a tyrant. The only province that actually seemed to prosper was Carn's estate, and the other members of the council had long since had him fall out of their favor.

The moon, while hidden, loomed over Springhollow. The city was by far the largest in all of Arcantaea, taking up an eighth of the country itself. The city was built by King Morgalan as a statement to all other council members that his province was the greatest. Though the condition of the city was abhorrent, and the city had now become famous as a den of thieves and assassins.

It was in a tavern close to the eastern edge of the city, where most of the criminal undergrowth had arisen and called home, that a lone assassin drank greedily from a mug of ale. He slammed the large mug down on the table in a black leather-clad hand, which led up to an obviously toned and worked arm. He stretched his body, also covered in black leather armor, as he gave a yawn. The yawn caused multiple scars on his face to crinkle and stretch, one of the larger ones coming across his right eye. His left eye, however, was covered with a large eyepatch. "Another one." He said in a gruff and impatient voice. He ran his hand through his matted brown hair.

"Keep drinking like that, Drahs, and you won't be able to handle your next job." The bartender replied, grabbing the mug in one of his calloused hands. He began to clean the mug with his dirty white shirt, which did little to hide his sculpted physique. He looked at the assassin and shook his head, his long black hair streaked with bits of gray.

"I'll decide when I'm done." Drahs said, his eyes narrowing in annoyance at the barkeeper. A long belt of knives that went across his chest jostled as he leaned forward on the table. "Another one."

"You'd be wise to take his advice, Drahs." Came a deep and raspy voice from behind the assassin. "Many a young recruit has come in here and not heeded the advice of this very man, and many have yet to return."

Drahs spun around in his chair, his eyes catching the rest of this filthy hovel. Still it was one of the best structures in Springhollow, it had a roof that didn't leak at any rate. Drahs's eyes caught on to the man who had just spoken to him. His short stature and white hair marking him as Doranth, the dwarf who ran the guild of assassins that Drahs belonged to.

The dwarf had his hands in his almost regal looking outfit, a mixture of green and gold marking its price. "I have your target ready for you, if you're not too drunk to take it." He continued, pulling out a rolled up scroll.

Drahs pulled himself out of the chair, a little tipsy from his drink. He walked up to Doranth, the dwarf not reaching up to more than the assassin's stomach. Doranth continued to hold out the scroll, his aging face looking up at Drahs. A moment passed and the assassin grabbed the scroll roughly out of Doranth's hand. He quickly unraveled the paper and began scanning it.

On the paper there was the drawing of a man who obviously had a great appetite. Even his face showed his girth, even though he didn't seem to be too old. Under it was written the words "Captain Grond". He was a notorious captain for King Morgalan, and he was currently docked near the northern edge of the city. Drahs continued to look over the paper and found that was all that was written.

"There's no reward on here." Drahs said, rolling the paper up as he looked suspiciously down at the dwarf.

"You'll receive your reward once your job is completed." Doranth replied, placing his hands behind his back. "It's something that can't be put down in writing, it'd be too dangerous for people to know."

"Very well." Drahs muttered as he placed the scroll in a special compartment near his back, it was shaped like a container for a scroll and, he found, the contract fit perfectly within it. "I accept the contract."

"Excellent." Doranth said happily. "Meet me down in the guild hall when you're finished with Grond. Then you'll receive your reward." With that the dwarf spun around and navigated his way through the filthy tables to make it to the exit.

"I'll take that second mug of ale now." Drahs said, looking over his shoulder at the barkeep.

"Tell you what." The bartender said, leaning on the bar and setting the still freshly used mug on the table next to him. "Leave the mug here and, if you survive, then I'll give you three on the house on your next visit."

"…Fine." Drahs grunted in reply, turning away from the bartender. "You'd best make them your finest mugs of al." He continued as he started walking out of the bar. Close to the exit, draped on the wall, he grabbed a long black cloak, which he quickly pulled over his shoulders and tied off around his neck. Afterwards he reached up and grabbed a belt with two sheathed swords on them, quickly buckling it around his waist. With his left hand he reached out for the door and with his right he quickly pulled a black mask up over his mouth and up to the bridge of his nose, almost concealing his face entirely.

Now feeling whole again, the assassin stepped out into the night. His eyes darted from left to right, a habit he had developed early on in his career as he had run into the city's guard once or twice in the past. His eyes drifted towards a flyer with a man's face painted on it. In the orange glow of the torchlight Drahs saw a hooded man with only the lower half of his face drawn onto it, an infuriating half-smile on his lips.

Drahs clenched his fist as he glared at the picture. This man's name was Graz, the thief in gray. He was a legend around Springhollow with a bounty of over four thousand gold pieces. The assassin turned away from the picture, his blood boiling. He despised the thief and his reputation, but he still had his primary objective. If he had the chance, though, he'd wring that so called 'hero's' neck.

After a period of walking through the dark alleyways and broken buildings of Springhollow, Drahs found what he was looking for. On the ground there were a cluster of discolored bricks. Taking a plank of wood from a nearby pile, he pried up the bricks to reveal a long rope ladder leading down to the light of a torch and the unused and long forgotten sewers of Springhollow.

He climbed down the ladder, making sure to lower the cluster of discolored bricks down behind him. Upon reaching the bottom there sat an old man in a rowboat as it rested in the filthy and stagnant waters of the sewers, the torches casting an eerie glow. "When does your blade fall?" The old man asked, staring at Drahs.

"When all light falls and their guard is down." Drahs replied calmly, his hands resting on his blades under his cloak.

A few moments passed and from the shadows stepped four men dressed in dark clothing and armor much like Drahs was. One of which was a blonde man who held a crossbow in his hands. "Well, it's not often that we get to see the legendary Shade of Springhollow in our little hovel."

Drahs didn't respond, stepping into the rickety rowboat and sitting down. "To the northern docks, the military section." He said roughly.

The blonde man stepped in as well, keeping his crossbow at the ready as the old man pushed the boat off of the wall and began rowing. He would make a few turns every once in a while, but overall nothing much happened. "So you're going after another high ranking officer?" The blonde man asked.

Drahs crossed his arms under his cloak, he kept his one eye closed and remained silent. A few minutes passed and the blonde man kept silent, almost expecting an answer from the assassin. Drahs himself hated responding to questions like this, what he did was his business and no one else needed to know the reasons.

"Y'know you've probably taken out more of Pride's soldiers than anyone else in the guild, probably even the city." The man continued. "If you let yourself be known outside of the guild you could probably achieve quite a bit of fame, hell you could even be a hero."

"Know this." Drahs said, now irritated. "I have my own reasons for doing what I do. I'm no hero and I don't seek fame. Learn that well and keep your business to yourself and I'll keep my business to myself." He turned his head to look over his shoulder at the blonde man. "You're part of the league of assassins, learn not to ask so many questions."

The rest of the trip was spent in silence, the blonde man seeming quite offended at Drahs's comment. After one last turn Drahs spotted a light at the end of the tunnel. He rose his hand and the boat slowed to a stop. He stood up and got out of the boat. "I'll walk from here. Stay here and await my return." With that he walked to the end of the tunnel.

Once there he found the exit of the sewer, and bars marking the edge. He raised one of his hands, removing the glove on it beforehand. His hand brushed against the top of the bars, running along each one until he felt three notches carved into one of the ones on the edge. Grabbing the bar he turned it to the right two times, then one time to the left. The bar popped out of place shortly after, giving Drahs enough space to squeeze through.

Once he was outside he quickly replaced the bar, closing off the entrance to the sewers. His eyes darted about the area. He was under the docks just on the beach. He quickly spotted his target ship, a war galleon at the very last pier in this enormous dock, though the sheer immensity of it was coupled with the fact that great deals of it were in disrepair and rotting. He narrowed his eye and gripped his blades firmly as he walked along the beach to the galleon.

He quickly reached the top of the dock, his clothing helping to conceal his presence. He took a few minutes to observe the ship itself. There were few guards placed on the deck, only two in total and they were both standing watch over the captain's cabin. His gaze immediately caught on to an abnormality, a shadow close to the back of the ship. He blinked and a moment later the figure was gone. Drahs shook his head, writing it off as his imagination.

He crouched down low to the ground, using the shadows of the night to his advantage. As he walked onto the deck he noticed the guards were nearly asleep already. Quietly, Drahs drew his twin blades and looked at the guards' position. Patiently he waited, like a cat stalking its prey. His focus went on his heartbeat, slowing down as much as he could as he began to control his breathing. A moment passed, and then two, and then three, finally he found the time was right. Sprinting forward he lifted his blades into the air.

The two guards looked as if they were about to react, but they never found the time two as the blades pierced their throats. A sickening gurgle was heard from the two men as the blades had gone through their throats and cut of their windpipes. A few moments of stunned silence passed and the two men eventually fell to the ground, never to rise again as the blood pooled around their bodies.

As they lay on the ground Drahs was left unchallenged on the top deck of the ship. He reached out for the door, opening it slowly his eyes scanned the area. The room was full of lavish antiques and trinkets, all organized and lining the area. On a bed near the right side sat Grond, his immense gut rising and falling as he snored. That was all secondary to the real situation at hand. At the back of the cabin, there were three stain glass windows. One of which was wide open and letting in a breeze.

Drahs gripped his blades tightly, his knuckles turning white under the dark leather that encased them. His eyes looked about suspiciously as he stepped closer to his target. Not wanting to waste time he lifted his right blade, slicing Grond's throat. There was a moment of surprise from the captain, a moment of struggle, then silence. Hastening to finish his job, he grabbed Grond's ring finger, King Morgalan's symbol stamped onto a ring that adorned it. He drew a dagger from the belt going across his chest and swiftly cut the finger off, placing it in a pouch on his belt. Just when he thought he was in the clear his eye began to widen at the sound of a voice just behind him.

"Well that seems barbaric, don't you think?" The voice commented.

Drahs swiftly turned around, his blades at the ready. His glare intensified when he saw who had addressed him. It was difficult to tell in the darkness, but in the glow of the now rising sun he could see the gray clothing that adorned this man's body, the signature gray cloak that fluttered slightly in the breeze, and a hood that hid half of his face, the other half wearing an arrogant half-smile.

Drahs didn't bother to address this man, sprinting forward and swinging his blades at the Thief in Gray. He was so taken in with his attack that he never saw the metal staff appear in the thief's hands. By the time he found out, it was too late. The staff struck him in the gut. The assassin's breath flew from his lungs as he fell to his knees. He grasped his stomach as he tried to regain his breath.

"So you're the infamous Shade of Springhollow?" Graz asked, perusing through the selection of items as if Drahs wasn't even there. "To be honest I expected more." He continued casually. At this point Drahs had started to get up to look at the thief, who now held some type of amulet in his hand.

Drahs struggled to climb to his feet, only managing to straighten his back as he kneeled. "Y-you…" Was all he managed to spit out.

"Shade of Springhollow." Graz said, looking down at the assassin. "You'll want to get out of here before the rest of the crew wakes up from their drunken stupor." With that the thief pocketed his trinket, strolling out of the door that Drahs had walked in from and disappearing from view.

A few moments passed and Drahs finally regained control of his breath. He stumbled through the door and back to the entrance of the sewer, nothing permanently hurt except for his pride.

The journey through the sewers was uneventful, mostly just Drahs brooding over his crushing defeat by the Thief in Gray. After a period of travel through the sewers, Drahs was let off of the boat at an ornately decorated wooden door, and a dark rose covering the light brown wood.

Drahs reached out, opening the door. He stepped in to a dark room lit by a series of weak torches. Great deals of tables were set up and a few men and women dressed in all black leather and clothe. The room fell silent upon Drahs's entrance, his annoyance almost palpable. Though his reputation amongst the other assassins alone was enough to keep them from speaking out of turn.

He walked through the dark room to a large desk that Doranth sat behind. He appeared to be going through some paperwork. He didn't even seem to register the assassin until Drahs tossed the bloody finger onto his desk. He gave a sigh as he looked up at Drahs. "I do wish you wouldn't do that, Shade." He commented dryly.

"My reward." Drahs stated firmly a deep scowl on his face, almost visible under his black mask.

"Ah yes." Doranth said, giving a deep grin. He reached into a large drawer on his desk and produced another contract. This didn't do much to lighten Drahs's mood.

"What the hell is this?" The assassin growled, not even reaching out to take the scroll. "My reward is another contract? Why not just pay me?!" He exclaimed, nearly shouting at this point.

"Just read it." Doranth replied calmly, his smile never leaving his face.

With a few swears muttered under his breath, Drahs took the scroll from the dwarf. He opened it and his eye immediately widened in surprise, any semblance of hate or anger leaving his body for the time being. On the scroll was a drawing of a cleanly shaven man, his hair short and militant looking. His face was stern and strong. Under it the picture the details were sprawled out. Commander Dranthan, one of the head commanders of King Morgalan's royal army, was to be slain in the small town of Riverfall in three days time.

With this, Drahs closed the scroll and placed it in the compartment he kept for contracts. Looking up at Doranth he held a very palpable grin. "It will be done."

3: Chapter 2

Graz sat in his filthy barstool, holding his prize before him. An amulet made of gold and shaped like a diamond. A red ruby sat in the center with the etching of a leaf in the jewel's center. "I have to admit, Richtor, your contacts never lie. This is quite the trophy." The thief commented casually. His hood was still on, hiding the top half of his face in the shadow it cast.

"I'm almost insulted you doubted me." Richtor said. He held the mug that the assassin had used last night, still cleaning it in his large arms and filthy white shirt that hadn't been changed.

"Oh please, you know I doubt everything." Graz said, giving a dismissive wave. "It's a part of my charm."

"A charm that you could probably use outside my bar." The bartender grumbled, finally placing the mug up on a shelf. "So did you run into Drahs last night?"

"The Shade of Springhollow?" Graz asked, looking at Richtor who gave a nod. "I bumped into him. That contact in the league you've got managed to get every detail right, even the exit he'd be using to get to the docks."

"You know very well that I find only the best." Richtor replied, leaning against the bar. "Though I find myself curious as to why you refuse to use the sewer systems."

"Because every assassin in the city is expected to have a contract on his head already." Came a cool and calm voice from the doorway of the tavern.

Graz spun around in his stool and spotted a young blonde man wearing black leather armor and a crossbow strapped across his back. "Ah, you must be Richtor's contact within the league of assassins, correct?"

"Indeed he is." Richtor said in reply. He gave a nod towards the newcomer as he took a seat at the bar. "How are you Fiern?"

"A little awestruck at the moment." The young man replied, rubbing the back of his head. "It's rare enough that people get to see the Thief in Gray, let alone get to talk to him."

"Well that's all dependent on what you have to say." Graz said, giving a smirk. "So why should I be listening to you at all?"

"Because I may have some information that could change the way Arcantaean politics work as we know it." Fiern said, his voice lowering to a whisper as he peered about.

This caught Graz's interest, focusing his attention on Fiern. "Go on."

"You know of Commander Dranthan, right?"

This almost caused Graz and Richtor to burst out in laughter. "Please, you'd have to be living under a rock to not know King Morgalan's only good commander." Graz said, giving a chuckle.

"Try the Arcantaean army's best commander." Richtor corrected. "But what does that have to do with anything?"

"Word around the guild is that Drahs is being sent out to kill him." Fiern whispered. He seemed to be paranoid about his surroundings. "Three days time, in the town of Riverfall."

Graz's face took on the look of shock. There was someone trying to assassinate Dranthan? The idea was almost insane. Amongst the military commanders of Arcantaea Dranthan was probably the only one that people liked. Why would anyone go through the risk of killing off one of the few honorable men Arcantaea had? While Graz pondered this Richtor raised an eyebrow.

"Riverfall…" The bartender said, rubbing his chin as he thought. "That's the town that King Morgalan and his cronies saved from the vampire four years ago, right?"

"You'd be correct on that." Fiern nodded, giving a smirk. "Morgalan's collecting a tithe from that little fishing town for the anniversary of the vampire's death."

"Thanks for the information." Graz said, looking over at Fiern. "But it must come at a price. How much do you want for it?"

"I don't want much. Just knock Drahs's pride down a peg or two." Fiern replied. His face seemed to harden as he mentioned the assassin's name.

"Well that seems entirely reasonable." Graz replied, a wide grin on his face.

"I need to go now. Doranth expects me back at the guild to guard the sewers." The young man said, standing up and walking out the door.

A few moments passed and Richtor looked down at the thief. "So from that grin I take it that you ran into the shade last night?"

"That I did." Graz said in response, leaning his back against the bar now. His arms were draped behind him as he watched the doorway, his grin never leaving his face.

"So what's he like in a fight?"

"Angry." Graz said in response. "His actions are very much motivated by his rage. He holds a degree of skill but he loses it in the idea that he can't be beat. I take it that if we run into each other next time he'll be a more significant challenge."

"Enough of a challenge to defeat you?" Richtor asked.

Graz chuckled at his friend's question, shaking his head. "Please, I said he'd be more of a challenge, not that he'd actually be a threat."

"And what exactly are your plans when you get to Riverfall?" Richtor asked, his voice sounding a bit more suspicious now.

"My plan is to ruin everyone else's plans." The thief replied casually, pushing himself off the barstool. "Does that carriage driver close to the east exit still owe you a favor?"

"That he does."

"You wouldn't mind too much if I collected on that, would you?" Graz asked, looking at Richtor over his shoulder.

"Do whatever you feel like." Richtor sighed. "Just don't die, even the rumor that you wander around here is excellent for business."

"Like you care about money." Graz laughed heartily. "You've been sitting on at least twelve thousand gold's worth in ill gotten gains, what would you care about business for?"

"I enjoy the social interaction." Richtor shrugged, standing up straight as if to stretch. "Are you actually going to bring back a woman to call your own this time? I'm getting tired of holding on to trinkets that mean nothing."

"Hey, this trinket means something!" Graz said, taking mock offense as he held his amulet up for Richtor to inspect. "Its enchanted with the symbol of the leaf! Do you even know what that does?"

"Sadly I don't care about enchantments as much as you do Graz." Richtor replied, his brow furrowing in annoyance. "But go ahead, indulge me. What does it do?"

"It allows the user to fall at great distances but slowly enough to where no harm will come to them." Graz said in a huff, stuffing the amulet in a pouch on his belt.

"The question about female companionship still stands." Richtor replied, clearly uninterested.

"You think a woman would be able to tolerate my charms long enough to actually follow me back to Springhollow?" Graz asked, genuinely curious as to what his friend was thinking.

"You could try and change." Richtor sighed, shaking his head. "I'm tired of looking into the faces of dozens of gruff and angry bounty hunters."

"Please, you've known me for a year and a half. You know very well that I don't 'change'." Graz replied, giving a mock impression of Richtor at the word "change". "I mean c'mon, I've owned this place for as long as I've known you and I still haven't had a sip of alcohol."

"That's because you're either stupid or insane."

"I prefer to think of it as an eccentric quirk."

"Don't you have an appointment to keep?" Richtor asked as he rubbed his temples in annoyance. "At this point I'd gladly waste any favor I had to get you out of my tavern."

Graz chuckled, turning around and raising his, waving goodbye to Richtor as he walked out. As he stepped outside he saw the first traces of life within the city, the merchants getting ready to sell their wares to whoever may have had money at the time, which, for this part of town, were the assassins. Of course Graz didn't want to be seen in public, more often than not it would just create a spectacle that would alert the guards. Of course he could take a few guards on his own, few could actually match his skill in a fight, but he didn't want to catch the attention of Carn, the only member of the council who could match Graz in a battle of wits. This was evident, as the two had been playing a game of cat and mouse for the past few years.

Not wanting to waste time, the thief slipped down a nearby alley. He knew these streets well as he had made it a point to memorize as much of the city as he could, a skill that had saved him many times before in the past. He followed the twists and turns of one alley into another, climbing over broken buildings to get to more restricted areas of the city. His path would sometimes lead over rooftops, other times it would lead him through broken and decayed buildings that had long since been abandoned. He was a ghost, even in the daylight, as he took his winding and twisting path.

The hours passed as they always had, the sun rising higher into the sky. Graz had started slowing his trek through the city, a familiar gut feeling having taken over him. To most people they would have thought it as nothing, a creaking of wood, the snapping of a twig, the skipping of a rock. To Graz, it was the signs of a familiar pursuit. He was being tracked. He had realized this a short time into his journey and had simply hoped that he would lose whoever was following him, but no such luck.

He gave credit to his pursuer, as he was definitely worth every coin spent on him. For a period Graz didn't even know he was there, but the thief was now alerted to his presence. As much as he despised wasting time, there was no way to elude this pursuer. With a quick glance around his surroundings, Graz spotted an old broken down shop, a large hole was clearly visible, large enough for the thief to see the entirety of the building. There were a great many blind spots, excellent.

Without hesitation, or indication that he knew he was being pursued, Graz turned sharply and went straight into the building. With only a moment to decide a course of action, Graz scanned the area and spotted an open window that would be clearly viable for escape, one that was hidden behind a section of wall that was jutting out. He turned as if to leap out the window, but instead he stopped suddenly and pressed his back against the dusty, moss covered, wall.

A few moments passed and Graz waited patiently, reaching into the folds of his cloak and gripping two long pieces of metal that were strapped to the small of his back. He quickly drew them, screwing them together to make a staff, their metallic gleam catching a bit of sunlight. Another moment passed and the thief held his breath, he heard the creaking of wood as an intruder entered the broken establishment. Yet another moment passed and the intruder finally poked his head around Graz's hiding spot. He wore a clean cut and obviously very professional outfit, styled in a military fashion.

Graz took action then and there, swinging his staff at his pursuer. The intruder growled in pain as he did his best to avoid the strike, getting hit across the shoulder. Following with the blow, he rolled to the side, drawing a dagger from his side in one swift motion. "Well, you've had a bit of training haven't you?" Graz commented, giving a smirk.

The assailant didn't respond, but instead decided to leap forward at the thief with dagger in hand. Graz blocked the strike with his staff, slamming the long metal pole into the ground. As the dagger clanged against the staff, Graz pushed himself forward, using his weapon as a springboard of sorts, and threw a kick out at the pursuer's stomach.

The pursuer, still off balance from his failed attack, was hit in the stomach and stumbled backwards. Graz took advantage of this, taking his staff in hand and spinning it around to build up momentum, finally swinging it at the assailant's side. The thief's opponent barely managed to dodge this attack, ducking under the staff and charging forward, aiming to swing his dagger in an upward motion across Graz's chest.

From the look on his face, he didn't expect Graz to have expected his avoidance of the staff. Though the look on his face was of pained surprise, which is often the look on one's face when a knee is slammed into his or her chin, which is what Graz did to his pursuer as he began charging forward.

The pursuer dropped his dagger, falling onto the ground face first in stunned silence as his body refused to obey his commands. Graz casually kicked the man over onto his back, planting his staff firmly on his defeated opponent's chest. It was there that he noted the symbol on his opponent's left shoulder, an ornate dragon's head that was colored white. The thief saw that his assailant was quickly starting to regain himself. "Well no wonder you actually have a degree of skill." He said with a chuckle, putting a bit more pressure on his staff, just to make sure this man stayed down. "You're one of Carn's agents. It's almost a shame that you had to go up against me, you really are quite good."

The agent of Carn didn't say anything, merely glaring up at the thief. With little time to react, the pursuer produced a vial in his hand and quickly crushed it. There was a flash of blue light that permeated the area, catching even Graz off guard. The light disappeared in an instant, and when Graz focused his attention on the agent once again he found that he was now dead under his staff.

Graz knelt down next to the now dead man, looking curiously at the vial. His eyes fell upon a symbol that was etched into the thin glass that, if put together, would form the picture of a flower surrounded by a circle. "The symbol of the grave-lily." Graz whispered to himself, standing up. "Well I guess I won't get to interrogate you." He sighed, nudging the corpse with his foot to be sure he was really dead. He stood up straight, relieved now that he could travel unimpeded. Though he was certain Carn now knew his plans for the near future.

Thus the cycle of their game of cat and mouse would continue. With this agent dead it would only be a matter of time before another took his place to try his luck facing the Thief in Gray. Well this little excursion to Riverfall wouldn't be fun if it were easy, now would it?

4: Chapter 3

"Stop the cart." Drahs ordered roughly. He had been traveling all through the day and night, stopping every now and then to rest for a few minutes and eat before continuing. Now the sun was rising over the treetops to mark that the next day had arrived. Following his orders, the horse and carriage slowed to a stop. Peering out the window leading to the outside, the assassin finally stood up and walked out of the carriage, his brown cloak now fluttering gently in the breeze, revealing simple traveling attire that was meant to disguise the fact that he was an assassin. His armor and dark cloak were safely hidden within the confines of his large pack, though his swords still dangled at his sides, he wasn't going into unfamiliar territory without defense.

"You sure that you want to stop here?" The carriage-driver asked. He was short and fairly young, he was dressed rather finely given that he came from the city of Springhollow. "Riverfall's a good few hours away if you're going to walk."

"You heard me." Drahs grunted in response, his boots stomping into the well-trodden road as he marched forward. He didn't care for the walk, truth be told he felt too pent up in that damnable carriage to stand it any longer.

"Suit yourself." The carriage driver shrugged. "I'll still be waiting for you at Riverfall, should you want the ride back." With that he gave a quick flick of the leather reigns and the horses started their trot, moving past Drahs with ease.

"Good riddance." The assassin muttered under his breath as he watched the carriage drive off. He closed his eye as he walked forward, a fairly dangerous stunt given that he could fall off the path, but he would take the risk either way.

The sound of the surrounding fields seemed to give him a moment of peace. A moment that he actually cared for, given that every moment spent in that city served only to stoke the fires of his rage. His moment of peace was short lived, however, when the memories of Graz came flooding back to him, the memories of his humiliating defeat at the hands of a lowly thief coming to haunt him. He ground his teeth together as he reopened his eye, his mood now thoroughly sullied.

His scowl deepened as he continued to think of the thief and his exploits. How could such a lowly and pathetic being such as Graz be considered the hero of Springhollow? It wasn't like he had shown any generosity with his ill-gotten gains. The only thing that the Thief in Gray proved to be was a thorn in Morgalan's side. The people of that city were fools to think that Graz actually served as a hero. Although, he wouldn't admit it on the surface, Drahs found himself jealous of Graz's fame, some part of him wanted to be recognized and praised for his deeds, hero or not.

He shook his head, readjusting his dark cloak to fall over his shoulders and hide most of his body. He had a job to do, and he would perform it to the best of his abilities. He didn't care if people thought him a hero or a brigand, but he had his own personal goals to achieve and he would work to the best of his ability to see them through.

Minutes slowly turned into hours, the sun now bearing down on the cloaked man. He didn't take off his cloak, however, merely enduring the uncomfortable heat. Periodically he would drink from a water skin that hung from his belt, it did well to cool him off. It was as he reached the top of a fairly large hill that he finally spotted it. Down where the Mianda river met with the Kirand Sea. There it sat, the town of Riverfall.

The town looked quaint, and it was of a fairly large size given it was recently the site of a vampire attack. No travelers seemed to be traveling into the city, but from the port Drahs could see several fairly large fishing boats. To the right of the town lied the forest that held the darkness that was the agent of Deogora, the vampire. After the events that occurred four years ago even the people in Springhollow had taken to calling that place the "Forest of the Damned", and even after the destruction of the vampire it was rumored that its undead minions still roamed, preying on careless hunters who strayed too far away from the edge of the forest.

Drahs took in the view for a few moments, taking in a deep breath and letting out a very long sigh. For some reason this place felt…good. He couldn't understand it, but for some reason this place had a calmness about it that permeated even his nerves. He walked down the hill, his pace calm and collected as his brown cloak caught a cooling breeze, pushing it back ever so slightly.

He reached the gate leading to the inside of the quaint town, noting a pair of guards that were standing on duty. They wore dull brown leather and bore spears as weapons. As he approached one of the guards stepped forward to stop him. "Pardon the interruption sir." The guard said, placing his spear firmly in the ground, apparently trying to look as intimidating as he could. "I'll have to ask what your business here in Riverfall is."

"I'm merely a traveler, sirs." Drahs replied as politely as he could. Inwardly he was gritting his teeth, though he made sure to keep the cloak over his blades in an effort to keep them hidden from sight. "I have come to enjoy the scenery of this innocent little town."

The two guards looked at each other, then back to Drahs as they peered at him suspiciously. Apparently they were scanning the scars and eyepatch that marred his face. "Might I ask what happened to you, sir?" The guard asked, still looking over Drahs' scars.

Drahs gave a sigh rife with sorrow as he looked down at the ground. "In my younger years I was victim to a bear attack…" He said, doing his best to feign regret. "My father thankfully stepped in to save me but…" He clenched his fist as he shook his head. "I'm sorry…I don't wish to speak of it."

It seemed as though the guards were going to ask a few more questions, despite Drahs' story. They seemed suspicious, even though that was probably the most convincing performance he had ever given. As they were about to continue their questioning they were interrupted by a very old, very feeble voice. "Come now, why are you two harassing this innocent traveler?"

Drahs paused for a moment, bewildered and surprised at the newest voice. He quickly lifted his gaze and saw an old man, though that may have been an understatement, standing before him. He came up to Drahs' shoulder and appeared to rely heavily on an old cane that was gnarled and twisted. His head was completely bald, his face wrinkled, and his eyes were apparently nearly shut as they squinted towards the assassin. He wore a long brown robe that hid most of his body, including his feet, appearing to miraculously never trip on the flowing fabric. Drahs honestly didn't know what to make of the old man, but the guards seemed to keep quite and stand at attention at his presence.

"I apologize, young man, were these two bothering you?" The old man asked, giving a warm smile as he tilted his head to the side.

Drahs paused for a moment, as this old man smiled so warmly towards him he felt…at peace. It was an odd sensation for the assassin, but he took in a deep breath and forced himself to ignore this for now. "Not at all, good sir. They were merely asking me why I would decide to visit Riverfall."

The old man gave a knowing nod as he turned around. "Come, you are a welcome guest to our little village. There is no need to go through such questioning!" He exclaimed, walking slowly forward on his cane. "Please, follow." The old man continued, raising his hand and beckoning Drahs to follow.

"But…elder!" One of the guards said in surprise, he stepped forward as if to stop the old man.

"Come now, child." The elder replied calmly, turning to look at the guard in question. "I doubt this youngling would want to harm an innocent old man such as myself. Trust him as I do."

The guards ceased their attempts to stop the old man and Drahs after that. As Drahs stepped past the two guards he squinted down at the old man. He holds a lot of weight…that guard called him "elder". Is he the village elder then? Why would he take such an interest in me? His mind was racing as he continued to peer down at this old, decrepit, and trusting old man.

"It is quite rude to stare, you know." The elder commented, turning around to face Drahs. "Of course I don't know where you come from, so that is forgivable as I have no parents to chide for a poor upbringing."

"My apologies." Drahs replied, immediately looking to the elder's eyes. "I didn't mean to seem rude." Damn old man. He thought to himself as he clenched his fists.

"Well whether you did or you didn't I had no harm taken from it." The elder replied, turning back around and walking through the streets.

Drahs followed him, glancing about as he got the layout of the city. He wanted to be sure he could find any good vantage points to take care of Commander Dranthan. "This is a lovely town that you live in." He commented, actually somewhat relieved at the calmness of his surroundings.

"Ah, indeed it is." The elder replied giving a knowing sigh. He stopped once again, Drahs following his example. They seemed to be close to the center of town, a large open space laying before the two where various shop keepers had set up and tried to sell their wares. In the very center of this town square there stood a statue of a man. His form was sculpted stalwart and heroic as he held a sword in each hand. "Though it wasn't always quite this peaceful…and the memories of four years ago are still fresh in our minds."

"…Elder…" Drahs said, looking up at the statue, he was taken in by the statue standing on the pedestal. "Who is that man?" He asked, seeming to drift towards it a bit as he looked over it.

"Ah…" The elder sighed again. This time it was a sigh of sorrow and remembrance as he shook his weathered head. "That would be Nalagrom. A great man and one who was instrumental in the defeat of the vampire that plagued this village four years ago."

"Odd…I haven't heard King Morgalan mention of this man in his recounting of the vampire's demise." Drahs commented, now narrowing his eyes up at the statue.

"That would make sense, considering Morgalan was truly embarrassed of his brother's death when he returned to our village to give us the news. I believe he claimed he was too weak to stand up to the wrath of the creature."

Drahs turned his head to look at the old man. "Well, I don't believe anyone ever mentioned of King Morgalan having any living family. I wonder why that is."

The old man waved dismissively at Drahs. "It is no matter now. We still hold our fond memories of poor Nalagrom. He left a number of us heart broken…Speaking of which I should probably go see how her hunting trip went." The old man continued, seeming to drift off. He began wandering away as he gave a quick wave to Drahs. "It was a pleasure, my child. May you find your stay here pleasurable." Suddenly the man stopped, pointing a ragged old finger down a street to Drahs' left. "You should find an inn down that road, named the Horse's Hoof if I recall correctly." With that he continued his walk down the rest of the street, seeming completely oblivious to the goings on around him.

"…What a strange old man." Drahs muttered, turning to walk down the street as he shifted his pack. He shuddered for a moment, usually a feeling he only got when he was being watched. He looked about quietly, unsure of his surroundings now as a familiar suspicious aura crept over him once more. Without trying to hint his watcher to his suspicious, Drahs walked confidently down the street.

As he walked for a good distance he peered over his shoulder one last time to look at the statue of Nalagrom. As he turned his head back around to look forward he could have sworn that out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of gray…he wrote it off as his imagination and proceeded onwards towards the Horse's Hoof.

5: Chapter 4

Drahs rubbed his temples as the first rays of light slipped into the room, the area itself being clean and prepared for guests. A stark contrast to what he was used to in the dangerous streets of Springhollow, where a clean room was simply a place to lower your guard so a brigand could slit your throat in your sleep and rob you of your posessions. A groan was released from his scarred lips as he rolled out of the bed, pushing himself to his feet. Having slept in little else but his undergarments he rolled his shoulders, the motion putting emphasis on his lean and toned back and pectorals. As much as he hated to admit it, this was probably the best night sleep he had ever gotten. Still, nothing really put his paranoia at ease. This was evident by the twin swords hanging just within arm's reach should anything go sour.
Letting out a sigh he walked over to his "Civillian" clothes that he had arrived here in, opting to leave the cloak behind. As he dusted himself off he couldn't help but feel naked whilst he was separated from his black leather armor...even more-so his swords, which he proceeded to bundle into his bedroll, leaving them in there as a disguise as he slid the pack and blades beneath the bed. A quick adjustment of his hair to assure that he looked as normal as he could, difficult considering the scars and eyepatch, he let out a grunt and figured he was as ready as he ever would be. Securing a dagger beneath his sleeve and a coinpurse to his belt he walked to the door to his room and begrudgingly opened it.
He proceeded down the stairs, eye darting right to left as he peered about. He never really got over the feeling of being watched, but chose not to pursue it. There was no way someone could have followed him from Springhollow, the guild of assassins would've made sure of that, but his gut kept telling him something was off. It certainly didn't make relaxing an easy thing. His thoughts were quickly interrupted, however, by the sounds of joviality. Something he was certainly not used to in his home city. Granted every moment he lived was in hunting or being hunted so any form of joviality was a sign to get ready for a dagger in the back.
The sound came from downstairs, where food and drink was typically served. Odd time of day to drink, where most people were setting up their shops. Drahs sighed and proceeded down the hall and down the stairs, where he came to the source of the noise. The tavern area was surprisngly lively. A good ten men, rough and burly, had taken up residence and were drinking to their hearts content as they ate bread and fresh meat, deer meat from the looks of it. Drahs came to the conclusion that these must've been the village hunters, and they were celebrating a good hunt.
At the bar itself a man, large in girth and sporting an incredible smile on his face, was laughing along with the hunters. Turning to spot Drahs he waved the assassin over. "Come friend, come!" He called, his large arm swinging. "Drinks are on the house for the next hour!"
Drahs felt himself clench up inside, he hated being called on for these types of things. Social situations weren't up his ally, and this would distract him from the job. Then again, there were free drinks to be had. He looked about for a moment, giving a forced smile as he walked up. "Well I'd love that, what's the occasion?" He asked, grabbing a mug as it slid up to him.
"Ah got ourselves a whole load of deer we did!" Called one of the huntsmen, slamming his fist on the table. "Aye Sapphire lead us right up to the largest batch yet! Eight whole deer! Should keep the butcher happy for a good while, aye lads?" He called, the other hunters raising their mugs in the air and giving a loud holler.
Drahs raised the mug he had been given to his lips, his eye widening for but a moment. This mead was certainly better than the swill he was used to. "That's impressive, certainly should keep your people content for a good while." Drahs concluded, taking much larger drink this time. "Is this the good mead? It's certainly delicious."
This caused the entire group to start laughing, Drahs bent down, seeming to lean against the table as he went for his dagger. Realizing where he was he eased up, seems his nerves were more set in him than he realized. "What's so funny?" Drahs asked, looking about with genuine confusion.
"Ah you're certainly not from around here, are ya?" The bartender asked, leaning against the table. "That's just what we serve regularly. You won't find pisswater here, friend."
"Certainly an improvement from Springhollow." He muttered to himself, letting out a cough as he realized he may have said too much. This place was wearing down his defenses, strange considering how secure and safe everything felt.
This caught the hunters' attention as they leaned against the table. "Ah, aye, yer from Springhollow?" One of them asked, mug in hand as he took a drink. "Whassit like there? Are tha streets paved with gold n' the people rich?"
"Anything but..." Drahs said, his hand gripping the mug. He may as well let a couple of things slip while he was here. The company was good enough and they didn't seem to suspect a thing. "The place is a den of thievery and hatred, where a man will jam a knife into your throat for a few copper."
This caused the hunters to quiet down a bit, they looked between each other in confusion. "But the word we got back was-"
"A lie, most likely." A voice interrupted, it was softer than the others and held little emotion in it. Though when they heard the voice the hunters immediately stood up straight to face the door, all eyes on the newcomer.
Drahs peered around one of the burly and somewhat drunk men to spy a woman, her eyes a crystal blue and her hair a dark black. Her eyes peered about, head turning to reveal her sharp features. "Who's that?" Drahs whispered to the bartender.
"That's sapphire." The bartender replied, giving a nod. "She's the head hunter here, best shot we've got here in Riverfall."
"I see." Drahs commented, turning his attention back to her. As he looked her over he noticed that she seemed...hollow would probably be the best term. Her face was devoid of emotion as she talked with the hunters. After a few moments the huntsmen gave a nod and left the inn, taking one last drink before leaving their mugs on the table.
"I'm sorry if they gave you any trouble." Sapphire stated calmly, her green tunic fluttering as she approached Drahs. "They tend to get overly excited when it comes to our successes."
"They weren't any trouble at all." Drahs said, giving another feigned smile. Though inside he was shuddering. This woman was, for lack of a better term, a little creepy.
She seemed to look him over for a few minutes, Drahs not knowing what to do with the situation. She gave a quick nod before turning to leave. "Have a safe stay in Riverfall." She said before walking through the door and out of sight.
"Poor girl." The bartender sighed, shaking his head.
"I'm guessing she's not normally like this?" Drahs asked, turning to face the bartender.
"She's been like this for four years now...Ever since Nalagrom passed away."
"That name seems to hold a lot of weight here." The assassin commented, turning his attention to the door.
"To her more than a lot of people. Seems in the heat of the vampire's reign Nalagrom came in and gave people hope. She fell for him and he for her and..."
"And then he died in a noble sacrifice that no one outside of Riverfall has heard about." Drahs stated, finishing his mead.
"Indeed...seems she hasn't moved on from the experience. I think she's still holding on to some glimmer of hope that he'll keep his promise to her."
"What promise was that?"
"That he'd get back to her alive." The bartender said with a sigh. "But seems that Deogora had the last say in that matter."
Drahs rolled his shoulders, giving a nod. "Seems to be that way for a lot of folks. Thanks for the drink, friend." He commented, walking out of the inn as he muttered to himself. "Four years...one track mind's all I got to say about that."
As the sun peered over the houses and across the small town Drahs saw the hunters, including Sapphire, walking down the street and rounding the corner, a good pile of deer resting on a cart that they were pulling along. Not wanting to go through more awkward conversation with that lot, Drahs turned down the opposite roadway, making his way to the other end of town.
As he wandered through Drahs couldn't help but admire at the genuine courtesy of these people. A good deal wished him good morning and continued about their business, and some even welcomed him to Riverfall. It was both comforting and made him paranoid as he was always assuming that people wanted something from him. Through his wandering he found himself at perhaps the only stone-structure in the town, the church.
The church itself held two stained glass windows bearing the symbols of Iodale and Leandria, the spirit lords of Wisdom and Love respectively. Peering down the road Drahs could spot the gate that Dranthan would inevitably come through, and looking up at the simple design of the church he figured it would be an easy enough building to scale. It would certainly give him a good vantage point to watch Dranthan's actions from as he entered the town.
As he stood there, pondering the best way to get a potential kill-shot on the commander he was interrupted by a voice. "I'm sorry sir is there something I can help you with?"
Drahs turned abruptly, having gotten lost in his thoughts. He quickly relaxed when he remembered that he wasn't in danger...yet. His eyes fell upon a woman with bright blonde hair, reaching her shoulders. She donned plain armor and bore the symbol of Leandria on her breastplate. "You're a knight of the goddess." Drahs commented, a foreign sight for him. The followers of Leandria weren't typically found in Springhollow.
"Ah. Yes I am. Outsider I take it?" She asked, tilting her head to the side.
Drahs gave a nod, looking about. "Sorry I'm just trying to get used to it all...mind if I ask what you're doing?"
She giggled at his reaction, Drahs turning a slight shade of pink. What the hell was wrong with him? He inwardly grumbled something about the air here poisoning his mind. His inward brooding, however, was interrupted by the knight once again. "I'm just taking a quick break from cleaning to enjoy a bit of fresh air."
Suddenly the door to the church opened, as if on queue, storming from the door was a woman with bright red hair and an agitated look on her face. The three stars of Iodale sewn into her robe. "A break that's taken entirely too long, Arene." She replied, glaring at the knight.
"Lucindae please, calm yourself." Arene sighed, placing her plated hand on her forehead. "We have a visitor."
The woman known as Lucindae glanced down at Drahs, her expression softening somewhat. "My apologies, I didn't know we had an outsider." She stated calmly. "Tell me, stranger, where do you come from?"
"Springhollow." Drahs stated without fear. He already told a pack of hunters, may as well keep the story consistant to avoid suspicion.
Granted the statement of his home city didn't go over quite so well with these two. Arene's face froze in shock, though the one that took it the worst was by far Lucindae. At the mention of springhollow her composure immediately faded and a deep scowl adorned her face. "Keep your business to yourself then." Lucindae stated. "You'll not hear comforting words of welcome from this priestess. Your city breeds nothing but heartbreak and empty promises." With that she turned abruptly and slammed the door, Nalagrom doing what he could to keep a few choice hateful comments to himself.
"What's her problem?" He asked, keeping his composure as he turned to Arene.
"Not all of us took Nalagrom's death with grace." Arene stated, her face now sullen. "He was a dear friend to many of us within Riverfall. Lucindae herself turned resentful and bitter."
"I see...you have my condolences." Drahs said, giving a weak nod. "I know all to well that losing someone important can leave a long lasting scar."
Arene nodded, Giving a weak smile. "Either way I hope your stay in Riverfall is a pleasant one. I offer my sincerest apologies for Lucindae's behavior." With that the paladin turned and walked into the church without a second thought, leaving Drahs alone as he simply stared on.
"How long's it been?" He muttered to himself, finally letting the outburst of rage he'd been holding back loose. "Get over it already, I lost plenty in my life and you don't see me crying about it." With that he turned from the church, spitting on the ground as he left to continue his scouting of the village.