Last Faction

One
Outside, it was dark, cold and raining. The trees swayed, wet leaves were swept away and the sun retreated into the mountains. Inside however, had a warm aura full of beer, drunks, and those looking to get away.
Wooden furnish decorated the tavern, with a bar placed against the left wall. Stairs leading to an open room above were accessible from the back, and tables were placed all around. Burning candles were ill-strategically placed around the building leaving many dimly lit areas.
Among all the men only one stood out, but to look impressive among those in the tavern is a feat not impossible. Yet, he tended to his thirst as all the others, and even risked a chance at joining a game of gamble with a group of drunks at a table in the corner.
As the games went on, he lost, and he won, but unnoticed by the others, he always managed to have the same amount of coins he had started with. It was because of this that he had to smirk whenever an opponent complained of losing. Within a short time, many disgruntled victims had left the table, leaving three very exhausted beneficiaries.
Exhausted, but not enough to deplete their senses, as one man caught a smile from under the stranger’s hood.
“And whatsis so funny to you?” he asked, lowering his cards in his heightened suspicion.
“Nothing, just that I know I am going to win this round that is all.” the man said, from within his shrouded hood, “That is all.”
“We’ve gots ourselves a cheater.”
“I beg to differ.”
“And he’s tryin to use his little sweet talk to gets out o’ it!”
But he just sat there, perfectly content, and without the slightest twitch of a nerve.
And that just fueled the other’s aggression.
The stranger observed the other stand, very slowly he observed, for someone about to strike. And in came a fist, soaring across the table, sloppily aimed at the stranger. The effort he had put into the punch was too much for the drunk to handle, placing him off balance and slamming his stomach into the curve of the table. It shook, beer was spilt, and glasses had shattered. He threw his left hand out in front of him trying to prevent more of his drink from being wasted (he had little care for the fall), and had succeeded, but only for his fingers to be sliced on broken glass.
The punch had barely missed the stranger, and in truth, he had not even moved at all. It went right past his face as the attacker pulled it away to aid his bleeding hand. The third man jumped up and rushed to the other’s side, and gazed at the stranger as he stood.
“That will be the least of your problems.”
With one fluid motion he leapt up and pulled something from his side. The gleam of the magical metal blinded the men’s eyes, and removed their perplexed expressions. He landed on the table, having kicked everything aside as he went to land, and spun his blade towards the general direction of the two men. As he realized that the cowards had fallen back, he threw his hand behind his back, switched hands, and now brought his left around. The strike had not lost momentum, and struck low, as the strangers left knee went hard into the top of the table, top siding it. The sword struck true, sliding right across the first attacker’s throat, and back into the wielder’s right hand. He went into a roll, and as he regained his balance threw the sword up behind him once again, but upwards as to stop the stab of a dagger. The other man, now presumably the body guard of the dead one, violently drew it from his belt in desperation and launched a blind assault onward into the stranger. The ring of the two blades sounded throughout the tavern, and the clang loosened the bodyguard’s grip of the dagger. Even though it had only taken a second to recover, the stranger took advantage of the moment and spun around, bringing his fist in close against the man’s ribcage. He felt, and heard, bones crack with the perfectly placed blow, only to finish off the fight with a slash along the paralyzed man’s waist.
Based on pure instincts, the cloaked figure, only a blur to the witnesses, rushed out the door and sought shelter under the canopy of a tree outside.
He was wet, tired, and bloody.
He held the branches tight as a gust came in from the north.
He thought of the bounty on the dead man’s head.
“The head.” he remembered.

Two

The area surrounding Mistveil Mountains had an infamous reputation. Merchants seeking passage to cities beyond its peaks planned long detours as to not travel through the trouble seeking lands. Thieves, murderers, and drunks populated these dangerous areas and only those who sought to fight would even dare to come close. Very little stories have actually come out from the dark forests, bottomless mud, and vile “towns”. Inside, people relied on luck and survival instincts to survive. Those who possessed such qualities found life easier, but the cost was deadly, with the fear of death or injury lingering down your spine every second of the day, even as you lay and sleep. The scent of spilt blood haunts the air. Nothing but nightmares inhabits restless minds. This brutal and suicidal way of life, takes part but in only environment, shaped by the devil himself, and is known as, Drakespar.

“My money……now,” spoke Kieve, the mysterious stranger, whose skill was witnessed by many just the night before. He had traveled all day to reach a rogue camp on the outskirts of Drakespar, and it was here that he received tasks to complete, for reasons unknown to him. But, it did not matter; the pay to him was well worth the thought of guilt, which would quickly diminish over the next few days. The years of fighting for his life had not only trained him physically, but mentally as well.
“Of course, as I have always rewarded you. Your great deeds will not go unpaid. You should never doubt my word, never,” replied Degoth, an infamous “man of business”, in his words. Leader of the Brotherhood, he had gained renowned reputation and respect.
“Hand it over, and I shall be on my way. Unless, you have more things to be taken care of,” Kieve retorted with a sense of aggravation.
“There are always things that need to be done. Whether it is the roof of my tent or the end of someone’s life, your only concern, Kieve, is if it will not be yours.”
“You don’t have it, do you Degoth?”
“I do…..but on the forms of someone’s arrest or termination,” was his desperate, but cunning, answer.
“The Alliances attacks are crushing your trade. While you place bounties on those who attack your Guild, people fail to meet them. The shear numbers of those who guard the encampments drive your customers away. Instead, they risk heading south, to the Herodian Guild, where the presence of the Alliance is slim. You know this, and you fear it. Placing your base of operations so close to Mistveil was a mistake in the first place.”
And with that, Kieve disappeared from the tent. He could sense the anger within Degoth growing; for all that he spoke was true. The troops of the Alliance started moving south from Kaverin, moving their way through Mistveil, and into northern Drakespar. Various attacks on their encampments by the Brotherhood Guild left many more dead members than Alliance soldiers. All the while, more troops were deployed throughout Drakespar to eliminate any rogue Guild’s numbers.
The increased danger drove people away, to hide in the forests in the south. But, after the Brotherhood was defeated, which was inevitable, the Alliance would start to fight their way to the south until they had conquered all of Drakespar.
“Are these attacks an act of strategy, or desperation,” the cloaked figure asked himself. “Is it no longer safe to stay in this part of the world?”
By the time he had decided upon an answer, he found himself at the base of a rocky slope. As he gazed upward, the sides of the mountains seemed endless, becoming engulfed by the clouds above. A feeling of resentment and fright overwhelmed him; it had been too long since he had been filled with the thrill of exploration.
“It has never been safe.”
The thoughts of his first years in Drakespar came to mind, how every day he mapped out every new trail or tavern, often sidetracked by minor adventures. One of these was how he came across his current defense, Gleem, whose enchanted metal shined bright as it was drawn from its scabbard.
Kieve had so many great times, but not even the thrill of danger could appease him over time. He could navigate the marshes and forests without maps, and find his way to any town. Over these mountains, anything seemed limitless to him.
The thought thrilled him, and convinced him to delay no longer. He ascended the slope covered in boulders, noticing the snow covered peaks beyond. Tirelessly, he worked his way up, until he found a ledge that brought him up between two slopes. The snow had begun to numb his feet, as well as his hands. The wind blew gusts that chilled his body beneath his cloak.
Climb the Mistveil, ascend down, and seek refuge with an ally in Kaverin. Before, he had told himself that this would be the easy part, but this passage alone may kill him.

Three

A cave along the opposite side of the ridge proved fine shelter for Kieve during the night. There was no wood for him to use atop the mountains, and there was no source of heat for him. Instead, he wrapped himself as tight as he could with his cloak and hoped for the best. It was pitch black, the temperature was at its coldest, and the whistling of the wind roared as a great yeti. Soon enough, he couldn’t take the racket any more. He could not manage to sleep, but only lie there and ponder his decisions. Was he going crazy? What had drove him to leave Drakespar, the place he had come to know as home? Then, he came to realize that he had no place worthy of calling home, and the objective of his actions was to find his sanctuary. But, over the Mistveil? In Kaverin? Or perhaps, someplace farther out.
His thoughts raced over the hours he had to spend in the cave. With the money he had gained from his business with Degoth, he would continue his profession, but with someone else and within a year have enough to afford a place to stay.
He’ll continue his path towards Kaverin, and there seek out a place of “employment”. He did not worry, this was information that a certain sum of money could buy him from any local bar.

Four

The city had met every one of his expectations. Kieve had quickly found the center of congregation, which was no surprise. As he entered the bar, things seemed different, and out of place. But, he soon realized that he was accustomed to the deadly, disorganized way of life, while the one of Kaverin was more….enforced. Guards patrolled every street, and were quick to pull someone over if there was sign of any infringement of law. Although, he easily avoided this, through the art of deception, and cunning.
The front desk of the bar was located at the back, near a set of stairs that no doubt led to the rentable rooms. And, both left and right sides, had bars set up. Even with both open, however, there was still a line for beverages, and yet the pub remained at a sense of order.
Kieve approached the front desk, and then hesitated. Could he spare the money to rent a room that he would most likely not use? He came to the conclusion that the cost was too high, and to spend the money to keep cover in the city was useless. He would soon be out of here, he thought, as he scanned the pub. Now, he had begun his plan in searching out for that one person who could spill information, with a bribe.
The difference of the pub than the ones he was familiar with made it harder though. It was not often he saw sober nobles and others alike chatting around the tables. There was nobody apparent to him that could help. But, his attention was focused on three men leaving a table, uncovering a dimly lit back room. From where he was, Kieve could see figures walking around, and then settling down. That was where he needed to go.
He approached the room, and as he entered, noticed its occupants. Two men, dressed in black cloth, an eye patch on the same eyes, and a cloak. Based on their appearance, he deducted that there was no doubt some type of weapon was hidden beneath their attire. They turned their heads to him, and then another popped out of the side of the booth, a rather small one.
With smooth, black, and pulled back hair, the gnome looked more dubious than anyone else. He wore white cloths lined with gold, and dark brown pants, no doubt tailored just for him. Most noticing though, was the wide smile that he sent Kieve’s way, something he had not expected.
“You lookin like the twins over here,” he said, and gestured for Kieve to come over, “Which means you lookin like my kind of man. What brings you back here? If it business, you come to the right place?”
The two twins, which indeed they were, smirked and picked up something off the table, and the left one stashed it into his pocket. Kieve walked over to the end of the table, and observed his surroundings. That is, he would of, if the table wasn’t clear and the room so dark. This only left him with one option, skip right to the talk.
“I….seek a special kind of business. I know I am bold in stating this, but I believe we can be gentlemen about the proposal.”
“Special, eh? Well then I think you’ve come to the right place, knowing you brought the right stuff,” the gnome responded, then smiling wide to him. The gnome’s smile was so wide, Kieve couldn’t help but stare at him as he grabbed out his pouch. And, still staring at the gnome, placed down a handful of gold coins, knowing it would be enough.
The gnome’s smile widened even more.
“Good. So, which Guild around here operates the night, who supplies men with the local bounties?” Kieve asked, noticing the gnome’s face.
“The Guild you need not know, but, as for the “delayer of jobs”, that is me. The name is Fizzleworth, Fizzleworth Goudran. And these two are the Breighnar twins. Their first names don’t matter; you will never get them right.”
“Then I came to the right place. I’ll make this quick, you have anything?”
“I might, but I do not know.”
“You don’t know?”
“Nope, I keep everything down in the headquarters for the Guild. Not much use dragging them around out here you know? It’s not everyday you have someone ask you for someone to kill on the streets, or in a bar. But, I am done here anyway.”
And with that, the gnome slid to the side and jumped off his chair. As he hit the ground, he let out a weak yawn, and lifted his arms into the air, stretching them. His nonchalant walk managed to bring a smile to Kieve’s face, but that was wiped away as the two men got up to accompany the gnome, banging into his shoulder.
The small man looked behind at him and said “Hey, you’re the one who paid me, so follow me if you want your money’s worth!”
Exiting the pub, he turned around to realize the twins had gone missing. But Fizzleworth paid no attention, so Kieve did not bother to mention it.

Five

As Kieve followed Fizzleworth through a seemingly endless maze of identical intersections, he observed the environment while keeping the gnome in sight. It was reaching mid-day, and the streets were beginning to crowd with citizens. They seemed to be a variety of social classes, ranging from nobles to peasants. In these times, many climbed through the ranks of wealth through the military, because it was at the apex of success. The profit that the Alliance was making couldn’t be stored in more than all the banks of Kaverin, so it is said. High military ranks quickly found themselves making lucrative amounts of money through campaigns and bounties. More than ever, the nobles were in top form, considering many were soldiers.
The beggars of the streets were beaten, bloody, and dirty. Since the rise of battle trained men, the patience of the population had dwindled, leaving many beggars to be dealt with through physical contact. Otherwise, they were just a nuisance on the streets.
All this time that they had been walking, neither Fizzleworth nor Kieve talked. Instead, Kieve had thought it better to just follow and wait for the gnome. That is, until he stopped.
They had taken a left into a narrow alleyway, and proceeded farther in until they had hit a dead end. It was darker than Kieve had expected, considering the time of day, but when he looked up for the sun, he realized the sky had been covered by something, black cloth, perhaps. He turned his attention back to Fizzleworth. The gnome had gone to his knees and began to fiddle with the ground. Kieve went to look over the small body, but paused as a sudden movement came from behind, and startled him. Reflexes sent his hand to his dagger, and then out behind him, stabbing backwards. But as his arm was forced behind his back with great force, he heard a cling of metal, and felt the quick pain of his muscles being stretched to an unusual position around his back.
The startled gnome was also quick in reflexes, but his sent him farther away from the commotion, up against the back wall of the alley. There he turned to face action, hand placed on the small dagger hanging on his leg, by a piece of leather.
The look on the seemingly brave and shady gnome was terror and cowardice, and that amused Kieve for an instant, as well as distracted him. He struggled to gain control of his arm, but it was being pushed against his back more and more, the pain increasing.
“Eh, quit it you three. What are you doing causing ruckus like that? Not only was I working on the door, but all of ye made noise that’s sure to draw attention!” And with a shake of his head, Fizzleworth continued his work, on a door apparently.
The pressure on Kieve’s elbow subsided, and he regained control. Then, the twins appeared, one on each side of him.
“They must have been following us the whole time,” Kieve thought to himself, as he sighed. Meanwhile, the gnome got to his feet as an aura of green light emerged from the ground, and formed a circle in the air.
“The newest of transportation magic! Well, maybe not the newest newest, but the newest to us! Cheap too! I am quite proud of myself, the runes on the ground are equivalent to muttering a spell, but instead uses the magic in the air. It forms the magic that it collects and arranges according to the……oh well never mind. The only thing you need to know is that it works; just make sure get every body part through the portal. Don’t want any missing limbs. Gnomish engineering and magic at its best…..”
Then, he disappeared, into the green mass, followed by the Breighnar brothers. Kieve had a moment to himself, in the darkness of the alley, with sickening aromas engulfing him. The rogue let out a much larger sigh, and rolled his eyes. What had he gotten himself into?

Six

Inside was as dark as the alley, but by the echoing of men’s laughs and the hard, cold touch of the surface, Kieve realized they had been teleported into the sewers. When they were built, the canals were set up to flow to the ocean, but as time went on, the Alliance also took advantage of this. Concealed halls and rooms were set up along the streams as armories and barracks, allowing quick escape to water, and ensured secrecy. Apparently, other Guilds had developed the same idea.
He continued to follow the trio down the dimly lit halls until light began to emerge. As they got closer, the more manageable it became to make out the end of the hallway and what lay beyond. Exiting through an arched doorway into a room no bigger than a tavern, it became apparent that few were involved in the gnome’s operations.
There were tables placed about the small room, with papers covering every inch of them, and the floor. How they had any form of organization was oblivious to Kieve. Five candles lit the area, four placed in the corners, and one large candle set in the middle.
Fizzleworth approached a man sitting at a table to the left, and made several hand motions as he engaged in conversation. A minute later, he walked away form the now apparently aggravated man, and towards the center table. Searching through the papers, the gnome muttered to himself and threw them all over the place. This action was not surprising to Kieve.
Finally giving up on the gnome, the rogue departed form the two twins and confronted Fizzleworth.
“If you cannot find it I am sure I can…..” he regrettably said.
But as soon as he began talking, Fizzleworth shushed him to be silent.
“Just hold one second, it is here somewhere! Not only are us gnomes expert engineers, but we take pride in our uncanny knack to be more organized than any others!”
Kieve gave up, and wandered around, observing everything. Papers everywhere, the smell of sewage through the walls, and no apparent way of getting out besides through the tunnel they entered. And minute by minute passed, Fizzleworth had progressed to the next table in the back of the room, and begun searching there. The twins took a seat in two chairs against the while and waited. They leaned back, breathed slowly, and relaxed their eyelids. Both moved in perfect synchronization with each other that it seemed eerie.
Turning his attention back to the gnome, Kieve realized how long he had already waited. From this, he felt a sense of change. Never before had he been able to stand a wait so long, and when this did happen, he was sure to end the wait. He had begun to change, and he would not resist it.
“Here it is! Well, I am not sure it is the right one, but this is definitely something! Vendran Dou’Lerre, his name is infamous on the streets you know. A dark elf going solo on the surface, and working underground,” Fizzleworth stated.
“He dwells under the streets by night, and his presence is known during day. His shadow stalks the streets, casting a deathly mist over those he preys,” the twins added in.
“This won’t be an easy one, but if you can do as specified, not only will you get a fair amount of pay, but also gain a considerate amount of respect, if that is what you would call it. Hmmmm that is all from me, the door will lead you back to the streets. Try to be a little inconspicuous, like some of the best gnomish spies from back when, when we used to…”
“I will see my way out, thank you. I’ll be back within the week, count on that. The bounty will be back here, whether you are or not, and I will be expecting the pay,” Kieve interrupted.
He turned, pulled the cloak around him, and went up the stairs. But, two steps up he turned to the gnome again and said, “For future references, my name is Kieve.”
With his face mask pulled up, Kieve continued up the dim corridor, until he disappeared from sight. Fizzleworth sighed and assumed the man could find his way out, and the Breighnar brothers didn’t move a muscle.
None of them expected to see him again.


Seven

Kieve adjusted the dagger that was strapped around his side during the night, and got up from the bed to a chair in the corner where his clothes were placed. He returned from his meeting with Fizzleworth to the tavern where he had met them earlier, and rented a place to stay. The room was small, so it was hard for him to maneuver, and the walls and floors were made of wood, so his feet froze when they touched the planks. The windows were cracked, morphed, and wet, allowing a chill to linger in while he slept. But, Kieve couldn’t complain, it was better than a cave in the mountains.
First he put on his undershirt, which was long sleeved and lack, with buttons on the neck. Next was his leather jerkin, also black, which served as a little protection. But, Kieve was quick and agile, and heavy clothes would slow him down. He had to be, many quick slashes around the body, which could be done in a blink, would be more deadly than a slow swipe of a heavy longsword. The soldiers of the Alliance preferred this weapon, and Kieve saw this as a weakness; the time it took to bring the heavy sword back, and then to gain enough power to thrust, could seem like an eternity to someone like him. He thought himself somewhat of an anti-Alliance.
The last piece of clothing was a dark, leather-like material that was fitted around his legs. Kieve bent over, slipped it on, and then walked back over to the bed. He crouched, lifted up the mattress, and reached in. When he retracted his arm, light refracted off metal as he drew Gleem and its scabbard. There was a notch in the scabbard, which he placed his belt through, and then around his waist. It was tightly buckled around him, and barely moved as he stepped to the door. A coat hung from the doorknob, which he removed and threw around his body, and under that was his cloak, which was placed in a similar fashion.
Taking one last glance around the room, Kieve opened the door and walked out into the hallway.
Outside, it was as busy as the day before, even in the rain. Tiny droplets fell from the sky and hit against the ground, or anything in its path. Kieve was relieved that he had brought his cloak, as he placed it over his head and walked down the street. His feet created splashes as he walked through puddles that couldn’t be avoided, since the streets were so tight. Other people were faced with this problem as well, so splashes of water occasionally made others wet.
As he walked past grumbling or complaining foreigners, he kept his hood low to hide his face. Kieve then turned off into yet another street that was less busy, and continued down. Halfway down, he stopped and then turned his head to the right, observing the house that lay on the side of the road. It was large, beautifully decorated and painted, with plants set along the front door. He had made his way to the richer section of town, a section belonging to the soldiers and high ranking army men, men that new what was going on.
The heading on the note that he had received, or the job application, gives valuable leads and information considering what was to be done, and how. One of the leads was a military officer, who often leaked information to third parties. There was evidence that he knew of Vendran, the dark elf’s location, and current state of progress. This was the only lead Kieve had, and it was a must to get as much as he could out of him.
The rogue had much more convenient, and stealthy, ways of getting inside. If he had entered from the door that would cause suspicion from those on the streets, and people would be alert to his presence. However, if no one sees him enter, he could do anything he wants. So, he made sure he was fully covered, and waited for the right time, when no one was watching. After carefully examining the streets, he found the right moment to “disappear”, and turned the corner to the back of the house. Sometimes, he had to go to such heights as to climb up buildings and jump along roofs to enter, but that was not needed here, no matter how much more fun it was. He had to focus on getting the job done.
After Kieve had turned the corner, he head for a window that was in the middle of the back of the house. However, on his way, while crouching along the wall, he noticed how loose and broken some of the bricks were. Poking, feeling, and trying to move some of them, he came to the conclusion that there may be a less risky way of entering. An open window up above had caught his attention. His right hand felt around up above his head even more, until he found a brick that he could push in, just enough to fit his fingers. He did this again with his left, except reaching higher. Not so long after, he had managed to scale up the 20 feet of brick to the top floor of the house. Clinging on as well as he could with his right hand, Kieve cautiously moved his head to look through the window. Inside was a bed, with several drawers, and clothes scattered all over the place. He hoped he had come at an appropriate time.
Replacing his grip with his hand, he threw up his left leg to his side, and stuck his heel onto the window sill. When his heel was in place, Kieve brought his left hand over as well, but could not find a good enough place within reach to put it. He sighed, and looked around again for an alternative way of getting in. But, just as he was beginning to release hold and lower his leg back down, the agile and strong rogue thought of another possibility. It was risky, but it would be more efficient and entertaining at the same time, putting his skill and training to the test.
Kieve brought his leg towards him, but did not lower it. Instead, he used it as a prod, and lightly kicked and moved the sill around, to test how much weight it could hold. After a series of test, the sill still stood in place, and showed no weakness.
Relieved by success, he let out a sigh as he brought his leg back to a slot in the wall, and prepared himself. At this moment, Kieve begun to contemplate his decisions, and everything else in his life. What was it that drove him, drove him to attempt all these dangerous stunts that could possibly result in death? What made him better than anyone else, better enough to take others lives? But, he merely shrugged all the questions off of his mind, having ignored them through all of his life. It was times like these where he had to keep a clear and conscious head.
With his mind and body ready, Kieve made his move. He pushed off with his right side, and brought his left out, to get it out of the way just in case. The force he applied with his right side had sent him towards the window, and he pulled both his hands to his stomach. When his descent had brought him to chest level, his perfectly placed hands grabbed the sill. He tightened his muscles in his arms as he attempted to pull himself up, but his weight and pressure from falling combined were too much. Instead, he continued to try pulling himself up as he fell, until his arms were fully stretched, and he felt a sudden jolt enthrall his whole body. The jolt caused him to lose his grasp with his right hand, and it slipped off the sill. In quick response, Kieve swung his legs to the right, gaining enough momentum to counteract his body from swinging fully to the left, and placing the sill back within reach of his hand.
After his body was still, he bent his elbows and pulled himself up, bringing himself up to the window. As he peered in, the room was still empty, and a mess, which amused him.
Fully extending himself up into the window, Kieve reached in and pulled himself inside. He then pushed up, getting into a crouching position, which made it easier for him to reach the floor in the room, without even making a noise.
Now that he had entered the house, he tightened the hood around his face even more, concealing all but his eyes. The mystery and fear that his eyes inflicted upon people was a tool of deceit itself. With their lives on the line, people become erratic, and their senses make them sense what they want to. Because of this, people staring at his face often see wrong, or morphed, and then describe him as something far off from how he really looks.
Kieve looked around the room, but there was nothing of significance standing out, as he had realized before. Thus, he silently walked across the room, being sure not to make any foot prints, or step on any clothes.
As he crept across the hallway, there was a set of stairs to his right. Kieve pointed his ear down them, and listened for any movement below. There was a voice of a man, it was not loud, and it was not soft. He supposed that he was having a regular conversation with whoever else was downstairs.
Two men were too much for what Kieve had planned, and the only way he could deal with them was for him to kill the other, but he had no intention of committing any murders. Instead, he walked back into the room in which he had entered through the window. Looking to his left, he realized that there was a door to the room, and it was not pulled against the wall all the way. He hugged tight against the wall and slid himself between that, and the door. Now, he just needed to wait.
It was a change of scenery for him. He was hid amongst the shadows, and the only light was to his left, emanating throughout the room. Taking the time to observe the house, he realized how deplorable its condition really was. Along with the loose brick outside, the walls were rotting; the roof looked as if it was going to leak, and he could hear the people’s footsteps downstairs. He had expected better.
Still alert a short while later, Kieve heard the footsteps begin moving, and they gradually became louder. On top of that, the door screeched open, and then closed a moment later. He tensed up as a single pair of feet approached the room, along with loud squeaks. When he heard breathing, Kieve kicked the door closed, and then pushed it again when it came back to him, after bouncing off an object. Each slam of the door was followed by a yell, which sounded more like a grunt. After the second slam, he turned himself around the door to enter the hallway. Standing just outside was an incredibly thin male, but very tall. Blood was running down his face from the nose and mouth.
Feeling little sympathy, Kieve charged him and drew out Gleaming. His opponent was in the middle of throwing a fist when the flash of light blinded him, and his aim became sloppy, sliding off to the left. The assassin went behind the now recovering man, and put his sword to his throat, while sweeping his feet. Both of them tumbled to the floor, but Kieve landed on his rear, while the other lay sprawled out on the floor, his head resting on a lap. Adjusting his sword against the man’s throat, Kieve applied more pressure.
“John Victimus, I presume?” he asked, but the man did not answer. “I have no thought of killing you, I just need some information, and I have heard you are quite the respectable source.”
“I will take that as a compliment.” John responded.
“If you want, just as long as you tell me what I need.”
“And what is it that you need?”
“Vendran. Where is he and what is his current status?”
John attempted to laugh, but Kieve pressed his sword harder against the neck, cutting him slightly and drawing blood.
“You might as well let me loose and kill you. There is nothing you could do to stop him.” he replied.
“Why?”
“Because you don’t want to die.”
“I am willing to risk it.”
“You are persistent, so I guess I have no other choice. Vendran has big plans…..big plans. It could be taking over the city, or the world itself, I don’t know. The numbers he has rallied together could be greater than that of the Alliance. My best bet is that he has earned the respect of his brethren, and using them as pawns for one common…..false…. goal.” John confessed.
“Where is he hiding?”
“Under my bed is a lock box containing a map of Kaverin and the surrounding wilderness. There are caves marked off on that sheet, but there is one that is different from all the others. The gates of Lethanor, the human city once built into the side of the Mistveil Mountains, was sealed off a hundred years ago. But, there are tunnels that were built leading into the city, hidden escape routes meant for evacuation. There is no doubt that that is where the dark elf resides, planning his first move.”
Kieve removed his sword from the man’s neck, and then pushed him off his lap, so he could get up. When he rose to the ground, he kept a sharp eye on John and said, “Get the lockbox.”
Following orders, John walked into his room and then to the side of his bed. He got down on his knees, and reached his hand in. After feeling around a bit, he retracted his hand and in them, was a small, metal box. The man got back up and blew the dust off, then handed it to Kieve.
“Take it, and never return here...uggh.” John was saying, but then cut off, as a ripple in the air surprised them both. It was not until the man fell to floor that Kieve had realized an arrow had flown through the window and into his back. He looked back up, and as he did he saw an object coming his way. Kieve dodged to the side as an arrow came flying through the window, whizzing past his back. He did another somersault through the air, but this time to the right, as more arrows ripped threw the brick of the building. When they stopped, he dropped to the ground and slid the box back under the bed.
A creak of the floor behind him alerted Kieve, and he grabbed Gleaming back off of the ground. Turning his body around, he slashed outwards and then behind, but it soon reflected off metal. As he tried to recover from the impact, one perfectly placed projectile smashed through the brick, sending shards and dust everywhere, all over Kieve. It was silent, and he still couldn’t hear it until it had reached the brick. That moment, he knew it was over. No matter what he did, he was not fast enough to dodge the arrow, and also deal with the hostile that he now faced.
As the flesh of his left shoulder burned in pain, Kieve looked at the arrow that had penetrated his skin. His vision had become blurred, and he realized that the arrow had gone right through his shoulder, and into the wall across from him. It left a clean hole, and went right under the bone. Blood now ran down his arm, and he felt a large surge go through his body.
“Poisoned……arrows…..” Kieve slowly said, as his back had begun to fall to the floor. He was losing all feeling of his body, his stomach felt as if it was going to explode, his head hurt, and he could almost see nothing but darkness.
Before his eyes shut, while he lay there on the ground, Kieve observed that he could still see light, as the sun burned into his eyes through the window. Rather, the dark image that had blocked his view was the face of a dark elf, grinning at him and moving his lips, but he could not understand the words.
“Ven…dran…” he muttered, before everything disappeared.


Eight

Kieve had expected a more evil looking hell. He had expected flames, pain, and burning skin. Instead, he awoke to a small, dark, and cold cell. The only thing that had not surprised him was the chains that came out from the ceiling, suspending him in the air.
When his mind fully awoke, Kieve felt the strain on his arm muscles from being hung. His body was drenched in sweat, and he looked over his shoulder to the wound. It had healed a bit, meaning he had been out for a while, maybe two days, but the sweat still dripped in causing it to burn. The clothes on his body were torn, and felt as if they would fall off any minute. After he had examined his body, Kieve moved his head around the room, but there was nothing to see. There was nothing else in the cell, just him and the chains.
Relaxing the muscles in his body, causing him to droop lower, Kieve reflected on the life he had lived. He had been tortured before, back in Drakespar, but he had learned to forget those memories. In fact, he had learned to forget about all of the swamplands and his former home. Kieve had left them behind, to get away from situations like this, but it appeared to him that they would have to get away from him. None of it mattered, however, he was dead. How people would love to hear how hell exists, and the form that it comes in.
He kept reflecting on his lifestyle, and what he had done wrong. He also drifted through his childhood, and soon had remembered his whole lifespan. That was why he was here, to pay for and remember his sins.
Kieve remained motionless for a while, moving would just drain useful energy. But, he decided that lifting his head was worth the workout, when banging and clinging ran throughout the cell. As his eyes came into focus, he watched as a figure meddled with the cell door and then swung it open. It approached him, and when it was within reach, slammed a fist into his stomach. Kieve did not move or make a noise though, that would show weakness. A torch appeared outside the cell, and that too entered the room, seemingly hovering in the air. But as it came closer, it illuminated his surroundings. The same horrid face that had watched his demise now stood before him, now accompanied by a partner.
“Drae kevnich dusend.” He snarled, as he pointed to Kieve. The other dark elf went behind him and undid the locks. He hit the floor as the chains gave way, and sucked in the pain. Kieve’s legs were weak, and could not get up from his kneeling position.
“What kind of sick joke is this?” Kieve asked, in a very low tone. He was so tired, he could barely speak.
One of the dark elves responded with a kick to the shoulder, luckily the one that was uninjured.
“Vendran….” He slurred again.
The original captivator turned around and went to the cell door. He placed his hand on the bar, and turned his head towards Kieve.
“Vendran…….no.” He spoke, showing some apparent form of intelligence. But as he answered, he walked out of sight, and the elf with the torch picked Kieve up with his free hand.
The prisoner was dragged out of the cell, tearing up the skin on his foot from the sharp stone floor. He had little energy to walk, and was out of mind, so the pain seemed worth it to him.
They went through a series of doors and hallways, until they reached one massive room. There were two doors on each side, and the ceiling went up 100 feet. Looking to the right, the ceiling came down to form a door, and through that lay a bridge. The entire place was built of stone, the walls were large blocks placed on top of each other, and the ceiling looked as if it was natural, and the whole room was carved out. But, against the back wall stood a finely crafted throne.
Kieve continued to be dragged on the floor, as the company walked towards the throne. When they reached the bottom of the steps which lead up to it, the dark elf’s grasp on Kieve’s arm was released, and he was pushed to the floor.
He looked up to examine the place where he been brought, but changed his mind as the large audience that stood before him caught his attention. Surrounded by a number of other’s, a shadowy figure sat at the throne, assuming a stiff posture. Next to that, was a much larger figure, about three times the height, and two times the bulk.
A deep voice emerged from the person that sat in the chair, “Let’s first discuss why you are here.”
“Why am I here?” Kieve asked, not making any sense out of what was happening. He had the time to figure out that he was not dead, and not in hell, but he now wished that he was. His intuition told him that this situation could become far worse, possibly end in death.
“Because you had interfered in business.” The voice replied.
“Whose business?”
“Vendran Dou’Lerre’s business.”
Taking in what he had heard, Kieve ran everything through in his head, and tried to place pieces together. His assailants at the house must have been mercenaries of Vendran’s, sent to complete a job, as he was. But now, he was kneeling in front of the dark elf leader himself, an odd coincidence. But, Kieve had realized that all of this was a part of a shortcut, because he had now found Vendran, without even doing much work, but with no means of escape or slaughter.
Kieve brought his head back up to the throne to look at Vendran. His mane was thick, large, and deathly white, while all the other elves were short. He wore long and white pants that bunched up at his ankles, where he fastened down the remaining material with a red piece of cloth. His chest was bare, showing off his muscle which nicely toned his body. And, on his lap, lay a scabbard. Kieve strained his eyes to make out the details of the hilt that stuck out. After a few seconds of misbelieve, he cursed and swore as he realized that it was Gleaming placed across Vendran’s upper legs.
Standing at the leader’s side was a very large orc, larger than Kieve had ever seen. Two axes hung at his side, and thick leather armor covered his body. Behind them stood a crowd of black figures, hiding in the darkness, which Kieve still couldn’t make out.
He realized that he had no chance of survival. No chance of fighting his way out, no chance of running away. To even take out Vendran, he would most likely have to sacrifice his life, if he even got close enough.
“I am told that you put up a fight outside, congrats to you. But, I am also told that it wasn’t a very good one,” Vendran said with a smirk on his face, “And, that you had made relations with the owner of the house.”
“Short relations, merely for business.” Kieve retorted.
“Then what were you interested in? Never mind…..don’t answer that, it is insignificant. The reason you are here is because of the fact that you had struck one of my men.”
“It was self defense. Your men were the ones who killed a man and then shot arrows at me.”
“Only because you were a witness, and there can’t be any witnesses to a murder, can there?”
“Then, why am I here, why wasn’t I killed? I did try to kill one of your soldiers.”
The dark elf rose from his throne, placed Gleaming on the seat, and began pacing back and forth. “You weren’t killed because you survived. It is hard to kill someone that did not die. And now you are here because you did commit assault, as you just confirmed. It is amusing how so many things are linked, flowing in a circle, hmm?”
Vendran chuckled, and as he did, his minions joined in. When he stopped, so did they.
He stopped for a moment, and then looked Kieve straight in the eyes. “This is where you will receive your judgment.”
“My judgment? So now you are enforcing the laws that you break?” Kieve snapped, feeling as if he was talking to a two-sided freak.
“You are right, thank you. I don’t like the way this is going. I will have to change the layout of the system before Kaverin falls, need to be prepared.”
“Before…..Kaverin…falls?”
“You have helped me so far, so let me explain, I want to hear your opinion. I have a number of followers that are very loyal, and I am proud of them. They are strong, and fast with their work, extremely skilled. And, I repay them for their services. Currently, I have groups building tunnels beneath Kaverin, wide enough for troops of soldiers to traverse, and emerge into the city. Others are removing threats that I deem worthy of taking the time to eliminate, to increase the chance of success. Victimus was one of them, he knew too much. My army is massing by the day, as more believers ascend into my care. Those that are not yet trained are undergoing combat lessons, and being supplied with armor and weapons. Granted, they won’t be the best, but will serve useful to me as militia. As for the rest, let me just say Kaverin won’t be the last. So, what do you think?”
“I don’t share your same views. There is no overall goal!” Kieve shouted, as hatred rushed through his body. All through the speech, his anger had grown, until it reached the point where he didn’t care what he was saying.
“I am no fool, of course there is a goal, you are thinking too small. Kaverin is the base of the Alliance, without it, they would be cut off from supplies, and all their essentials. People would run in fear, and second-hand Guilds will suffer from this as well. As cities fall, a ripple effect will take place and that is when brains and brawn collide.”
“It can’t work. It is such a wide plan, barely anything makes sense.”
“Did you expect for me to actually explain it in detail, human?”
Still kneeling, Kieve looked down and avoided answering. In truth, he felt humiliated that he had been outsmarted, and that the dark elf was actually a twisted genius.
Vendran walked back to his seat, removed Gleaming, and then sat back down. Lightly, and elegantly, he placed the scabbard back on his lap. “But now, I guess we shall handle the present, and your situation. There is no need for you to talk; I have already come to a conclusion.”
“And what is that?” Kieve asked, with all hopes of living diminishing. Soon enough, he would come to an end. But, he had wished it were on the field, because this slaughter was by no means honorable.
“At first, I was considering having you killed, but then I thought about my beautiful floor. You are not worth having to look at a stain from your blood every day. Instead, your life shall be spared. I think my men done in the dungeons did a good job to you while you were unconscious,” Vendran snickered, amusing himself for another moment, “The Alliance scum, and all others who resist, will need all the men they can get. Even then, they may not be a worthy opponent.”
When Vendran finished speaking, Kieve almost looked up at him and smiled, but deterred. What was he thinking? But now, he will live on, which almost made him sick to his stomach. After going through all of this, he wished he were being put to death. Instead, he will be living through a time of war and blood. Vendran was being underestimated, and only Kieve had realized it.
“Gromgol, take care of him please.” The dark elf ordered.
The orc left Vendran’s side and approached Kieve, standing over him. The prisoner looked back down to the floor, and prepared for whatever he was going to do. Everything went black, in a split second, as the bulky fist of Gromgol rippled through the air, and impacted Kieve’s head.
“The Shadowhood will be the last faction.”