Post by Beezle on Nov 26, 2008 17:14:13 GMT -6
A Page from the Past.
This was going to be too easy, Beezle thought to herself as she casually walked into the streets of Dauth. It was twilight and people were just preparing their houses for the night. As she walked towards her destination, she could hear people gasp and whisper about her presence. She even caught glimpses of people running past her on adjacent streets whenever she went past an alleyway.
They obviously knew what she was and were preparing to confront her. "Let them prepare," she said to herself. "It isn't as if it will make any difference." Most of them probably didn't even know why she was here, but a few could surely guess.
Beezle continued with her slow stroll as she entered the courtyard in front of a large mansion. Then she stopped. There were twenty armored men between her and the wrought-iron gate that led up the main pathway to the house. "If you leave now, I might not kill you."
A few men seemed to consider it, but then their captain said, "Stand together men! We shall not fall to this wicked atrocity if we stay as one!" This seemed to reinforce their courage, because none of them budged an inch.
"Fools," she muttered under her breath, then continued to walk towards the building. The men stood their ground.
They must have had a spellcaster in their group, because Beezle could feel it touch her mind. She lashed out with her thoughts and quickly had the person begging for mercy. You should not have meddled in the affairs of a shade! Then a quick utterance of a word of death dispatched the spellcaster, and Beezle saw one of the soldiers fall to the ground.
It would have been child's play to dispatch the rest of the group now, but what was the fun in that. Beezle unsheathed a small bronze dagger as she finally reached the group. Maybe she would need it, maybe she wouldn't.
The captain of the soldiers let out a battle cry as he stepped forward with a large sword raised above his head. The blade arced down towards Beezle's face, but she blocked it with her dagger using one hand. The captain got a look of shock on his face, and the expression didn't leave it as she stepped to the side and slashed his throat faster than he could react. The captain went down.
The other men probably would have run after seeing that if they weren't already attacking her. Six of them had surrounded her and swung their swords, but all of them missed due to the wards that surrounded her. With a flurry of stabs and slashes that the naked eye would have had trouble discerning, Beezle took down the six men with ease.
"This is growing tiresome," she said, and uttered a string of words in the ancient language. The remaining men fell, one by one, until only a single soldier was left.
Beezle walked up to the trembling man. He was too frightened to even move. Beezle stared into his eyes, her face an inch from his. "Tickle," she said in the ancient language.
The man fell to the ground. His body convulsed in the uncontrollable urge to laugh. Beezle calmly stepped over the body of the mirthful man who was now doomed to laugh for the rest of his days. "Now for my prize."
Beezle jumped and pulled herself over the ten-foot high gate instead of opening it, then walked up the path to the front door. She kicked it off its hinges and walked inside. There were ten more men inside the entranceway which she quickly dispatched. Apparently they weren't expecting her dramatic entrance.
Bezzle made her way up the stairs and to a room in an out-of-the-way corner of the house. There was her prize, sitting on a pedestal in a glass cabinet. "Shatter." The glass did as it was commanded.
She grabbed the large orb and held it up to the window. It glittered an eerie midnight-blue in the moonlight. "Now I just have to figure out what to do with you," she said to her treasure, then tucked it under her arm and walked out the door.
This was going to be too easy, Beezle thought to herself as she casually walked into the streets of Dauth. It was twilight and people were just preparing their houses for the night. As she walked towards her destination, she could hear people gasp and whisper about her presence. She even caught glimpses of people running past her on adjacent streets whenever she went past an alleyway.
They obviously knew what she was and were preparing to confront her. "Let them prepare," she said to herself. "It isn't as if it will make any difference." Most of them probably didn't even know why she was here, but a few could surely guess.
Beezle continued with her slow stroll as she entered the courtyard in front of a large mansion. Then she stopped. There were twenty armored men between her and the wrought-iron gate that led up the main pathway to the house. "If you leave now, I might not kill you."
A few men seemed to consider it, but then their captain said, "Stand together men! We shall not fall to this wicked atrocity if we stay as one!" This seemed to reinforce their courage, because none of them budged an inch.
"Fools," she muttered under her breath, then continued to walk towards the building. The men stood their ground.
They must have had a spellcaster in their group, because Beezle could feel it touch her mind. She lashed out with her thoughts and quickly had the person begging for mercy. You should not have meddled in the affairs of a shade! Then a quick utterance of a word of death dispatched the spellcaster, and Beezle saw one of the soldiers fall to the ground.
It would have been child's play to dispatch the rest of the group now, but what was the fun in that. Beezle unsheathed a small bronze dagger as she finally reached the group. Maybe she would need it, maybe she wouldn't.
The captain of the soldiers let out a battle cry as he stepped forward with a large sword raised above his head. The blade arced down towards Beezle's face, but she blocked it with her dagger using one hand. The captain got a look of shock on his face, and the expression didn't leave it as she stepped to the side and slashed his throat faster than he could react. The captain went down.
The other men probably would have run after seeing that if they weren't already attacking her. Six of them had surrounded her and swung their swords, but all of them missed due to the wards that surrounded her. With a flurry of stabs and slashes that the naked eye would have had trouble discerning, Beezle took down the six men with ease.
"This is growing tiresome," she said, and uttered a string of words in the ancient language. The remaining men fell, one by one, until only a single soldier was left.
Beezle walked up to the trembling man. He was too frightened to even move. Beezle stared into his eyes, her face an inch from his. "Tickle," she said in the ancient language.
The man fell to the ground. His body convulsed in the uncontrollable urge to laugh. Beezle calmly stepped over the body of the mirthful man who was now doomed to laugh for the rest of his days. "Now for my prize."
Beezle jumped and pulled herself over the ten-foot high gate instead of opening it, then walked up the path to the front door. She kicked it off its hinges and walked inside. There were ten more men inside the entranceway which she quickly dispatched. Apparently they weren't expecting her dramatic entrance.
Bezzle made her way up the stairs and to a room in an out-of-the-way corner of the house. There was her prize, sitting on a pedestal in a glass cabinet. "Shatter." The glass did as it was commanded.
She grabbed the large orb and held it up to the window. It glittered an eerie midnight-blue in the moonlight. "Now I just have to figure out what to do with you," she said to her treasure, then tucked it under her arm and walked out the door.
