Birth of a Dark Elf
Moderators: T.D., Drainial, The Dread Knights
Time to finish this.
Ok, I have one more chapter before the end, but I hope this will be enough to keep you going.
The Final Test.
Ronin and his compatriots arose the next morning having full bellies and too much drink the previous night. A servant girl had brought the message they were requested in their battle attire, to the training fields. Without delay, they donned their armor, readied their weapons of choice, and marched out to greet the morning. Under normal circumstances, this would have not been an issue, but as Ronin’s training was over, for now in the cursed city of the Executioners at least, they all wondered what was going on. In Sevril’Relik’s case, he couldn’t stop murmuring about it.
This ended the moment they entered the practice field, and Selexa shoved her elbow in his ribs. There Tularis waited, in his full battle attire his favorite great sword in hand, and a courtyard filled with elves. Ronin eyeballed the elite guard surrounding Tullaris, and guessed there had to be at twenty four of them. The rest of the court yard was filled with guards and a large division of elves half of Ronin’s height. The guards and Executioners were one thing, but what were children doing here?
Ronin knew they had all received training in the art of war, his father taught him so much and made sure his new son would be prepared to defend his love ones at a moment’s notice. But they all appeared to be no more than fifty to sixty years of age, and if so they would not have been much a threat.
Elves are a long lived raced, with the ripe old age of one thousand not unheard of, with some elves pushing up to two thousand years without the aid of mystical means. However this means that an elf’s adolescence tends to be long. Regardless if one is Asure, Asri, Druchii, or any other faction that exists remains the same. For the first twenty five years they get to enjoy a childhood, doing small menial tasks when they were deemed strong enough. What happens after their twenty fifth summer, spring, fall, or winter differs from race to race, and kingdom to kingdom.
Amongst the Druchii, a people bred for combat and little else, this child hood would be a merciful calm before the storm. At their twenty fifth year of life, a Druchii child begins learning the basics of battle. Some parents choose to train their children earlier, especially if their offspring shows a talent for it, giving their children a head start in life. However unless the child was deemed worthy to enter the schools of magic, this was to their life. Regardless, the training now was to build up their strength and stamina. When their parents or elder siblings as the case may be, deem the adolescent strong enough, they next phase beguines. Each Druchii is forged a sword or spear at birth, and that is the weapon they learn to use. By the time they had seen their fiftieth summer, they are ready for their next phase of training.
Ronin may have been no older than they were when he began taking lessons from his father, but he took to the fighting arts as a sparrow takes to the air. Ronin had thirty years of training under the tutelage of a renegade Druchii noble, and he made sure the youth knew what he knew. With the knowledge he had gained in that time, he could fight quarter of a regiment of Druchii without working up a sweat. The other three fourths would have proven a problem though as Ronin’s training had never finished.
Still, even after his death, Ronin proved himself a mighty warrior. With his village destroyed, the stripling made the journey out of his nativity and into the wilds until he reached a settlement. Beasts of all manner of hunger and temperament tried to make a meal out of the youth, and in returned Ronin supped well on their carcasses.
When he reached the safety of a city, he lost some of his fighting skills, growing complacent in the calmness that was there. This was not to say he had lost all of his abilities as his adoptive family owned a tavern, and his warrior instincts became alive again when the sight and sound of rowdy customers looking for a fight. Over the decades that lasted, he had regained all of his lost skill, and learned a few more underhanded tricks to aid him.
However it would not be until Ronin Reached Har Ganeth that he truly learned what was needed of him as a warrior. He had been forged into a weapon, a pure blade that was truly refined. What stood before him were all dark blades, impure blades, by comparison and they would break as any brittle weapon in a fight against him.
Besides, Ronin had learned enough of Druchii society to learn that had not yet been given the chance to truly ripen into warriors. By the time Druchii child reached the ripe age of sixty, they would spend the next four decades of their life training in the fortress city of Ghround, a place so close to the chaotic Northern Borders that if forged recruits into warriors as a black smith turn ore into a sword. Those initiates who survive may be given the opportunity to take longer training sessions in the frigid city, becoming the elite warriors of the Witch King’s favored generals. Most, however, were likely to return to their home city to finish their training under their family’s watchful eyes. Once they reach a hundred and ten, they are off on a yearlong raiding voyage called a Hawkseer cruise.
These cruises survived three purposes. One: to take a young lord coming of age, and let him or her command troops so they can earn a reputation and a small fortune by their actions. Two: To take raw recruits and let them see if the years of training paid off. And finally, Three: To bring back wealth in food, luxury goods, slaves, and weapons.
Those who had survived could then stand equally with the adults. They were fully blooded warriors. Even those who died on this cruise had still brought honor to their family by getting that far, and dying as all Druchii wished to: On the field of battle. They were also eligible to own property or marry, to have their opinions hold weight in discussion, and to become officers themselves. These were all destinies Ronin planned on denying them, though if given the choice, would rather fight an adult than a child.
“Welcome, Ronin and his war band. We are here for one final exam. One I had not given in a long time. It is rare for one to survive this long. Four nearly a thousand years I have waited for this moment.”
“I thought Har Harkon said it was only…”
“Four hundred, eight hundred, two thousand, does it truly matter how long ago it happened, or when it did so long as it did? In any case, it has truly been an honor to found someone of your caliber, even if you are an Asur. Now Face me.”
“You think an army of children will stop me?”
“They are here to watch. It is not often they get to see a…”
Ronin finished this with a punch to the Death Lord’s face. “I’ve heard Asur philosophers less long winded then you. Any one that tries to interfere, be they elf or deity, do with them as you will. The Draich Master is mine!”
Ronin pulled out his sword and shield, and prepared to strike the Executioner down. Tullaris stepped out of the way, raising his blade to parry. He tried to bring his blade down upon his foe, but Ronin was now accustomed to fighting foes with great weapons, Draiches were no exception. With a swift kick to the chest, Tullaris was thrown back the length of his draich’s blade. Ronin Taunted him with his sword, a brand new scimitar of his own making.
Tullaris only grinned, but he celebrated too soon. Ronin couldn’t detect the skilled assassins, ones of the highest calibers of killers, but he didn’t need to. Sevril’Relik leaped out from nowhere onto the middle of one of the two assailant backs, stomping him into the ground. Another quick stomp and the killer would be now paralyzed for life. This just left the other, who was fast approaching Ronin with a naked dagger. No problem with an elf with a sickle and chain. Relik tossed the skull like metal ball into the assassin’s buttocks, sending him off balanced, and into one of the fire pits. He pulled the chain back, sending the ball into the burning assassin’s skull.
“I’m learning your bad habit’s kid.”
“That’s the thing about them, Master Sevril’Relik: They are fun to pass around.” With that Ronin lunged at Tullaris again.
Sevril’Relik just shook his head, and darted towards the next follower of Khaine. “I love this kid.”
Tullaris ordered a number of his guards forward, blocking the stripling’s path towards him. Ronin cared not. He sheathed his sword, and tossed his shield at his nearest for. The surprised attack was followed with a dagger shoved in the Executioner’s face, and another into his throat. Before Ronin could pull them out, the onrush of an angry bull minotaur sent most of the guards flying, while more were cleaved in two by the force of his sword arm.
Any that survived that onslaught were picked off by Ronin as he aimed for the weak spot of their armor. The mail veils many of the Drach nya Khain used to protect their faces were great against arrow fire, but all mail has a weakness: Piercing weapons, such as a pair of long, pointed daggers. Others had to deal with Arhedel’s armor piercing, and now venomous bolts.
It was a blood bath, and a waste of life, but one Ronin knew he had to perform. With a sudden burst of speed, the stripling rushed passed the remaining combatants, letting the beastman handle the rest. It was now just him, Tullaris, and a pair of assassins.
“You think this would be that easy?” mocked Tullaris.
Ronin simply shrugged his shoulders. Without warning, Sulfura slammed a potted plant into one assassin’s skull, allowing Ronin the chance to toss a dagger into his throat. The other had the misfortune of having the roots of the trees in the practice field erupt from the ground, and constrict the very life from him. However, he died swiftly as black barbs sprouted from every conceivable inch of the roots, piercing every vital area the elf had.
“All things considered, I want to beat some humility into you.” With that, Ronin’s sword was out again, this time out to stay.
“And what do you think a slashing weapon will do against my armor?”
“I wonder if the enchantments that were put on here will cut metal as well as it goes through flesh?”
Ronin didn’t have long to find out. Tullaris swung his blade at the youth, using wide circular motions with his arms to build up enough momentum to match Ronin’s speed. The stripling in turn focused all of his efforts on not getting cleaved in half. When he did see opportunity to use his sword, he took it. Though he did not wound the captain, Ronin had managed to shave off a large strip of the rings making up the Executioner’s mail sleeve.
Ronin quickly examined his blade, and went back to work. As he had hoped it was in perfect condition, biting through Tullaris’ armor like it was hot butter. Ronin stepped out of the way of another strike and sent his elbow into Tularis’s face. With his boot, the stripling kept the massive draich on the ground, allowing Tullaris to be at the youth’s mercy.
“It is time to end this.” Declared Ronin, his blade at the throat of the warlord.
“Is that so?” said the Captain of the Executioners.
Ronin cursed under his breath as he heard a bow string being pulled into place behind his head. “You master assassin?”
“Yes actually. And that manbane poison should do nicely against your thick skull of yours.”
“Are you referring to the one attached to my neck, or the one attached to my cloak? Oh, and how thick is yours?”
Sevril’Relik was behind Tullaris, his blades just shy of slicing his throat. “A class assassins, not bad. They gave me a bit of a workout, but nothing I couldn’t handle.”
Behind Tullaris’ assassin, Sorbeck and Arhedel were making their presence known. “Try and dodge this.”
The last two to attack was Sulfura and Selexa, each placing a dagger under Tullaris’ throat. “Did you forget about us?”
“If you kill me, it will be considered treason.”
“You summoned me hear with the intent to see what I am capable of. I slew a great number of your warriors, and even what I did not slay my friends have and can still make short work of. Face it, I learned your lesson. Now, you can call your assassin of, or we can end it all now.”
“What happens if the assassin changes targets?”
Ronin elbowed the assassin in the gut, doubling the master killer over, but not before he let off a single bolt into Ronin’s skull. However, as he expected the dart simply bounced off harmlessly, and imbedded itself in the sod. Ronin turned around and sent an elbow into his gut and again in the groin.
Sorbeck, placed a hoof on Tullaris’ driach so the Deathlord wouldn’t try anything. “He’s all yours.”
“Is that so? Remove his helm.” commanded Ronin. Selexa removed Tullaris’ helm, and tossed it a ways away. “I’ve been waiting a long time to do this, Dread Bringer.” With That, Ronin sheathed his blade, and sent a fist into the captain’s face. Ronin struck him again and again and again until he was satisfied his foe would no-longer be able to stand on his own.
“Let him go.” Relik and Sulfura looked at each other then back at Ronin. “I said drop him.” They did as they were told, and threw the Captain of the Executioners to the ground.
“Everything you’ve taught me, I learned, and learned well. But I can’t help but feel you are empty inside. You live to kill and nothing more. What will happen on the day you run out of foes to kill? Will you attack the Witch King, as he would be the only one left to slay? I’ve learned everything I needed to learn from you, and now I can kill you at any time, or have any of my retinue do the deed.”
“Then why don’t you? Get it over with, you Asur Whelp.”
Ronin went down on one knee, and patted Tullaris on the cheek. “Because I do not need to. I’ll let you live because I do not need you to die. You can strike at me all you want, but it will be self defense, and I am sure there are some real prizes waiting to take your place as Captain of the Executioner. Do you really want to push your luck, and let one of those fools run your cult into the ground?”
Tullaris didn’t wait long to respond. “No.”
“Besides, we do this garbage at least once a month. What in the abyss have you waited a long time to test me on?”
The Dread Bringer picked himself up, and what dignity he had left with him. “I want to see if you can pass that knowledge on to the next generation. If you can teach these initiates a little of what you learned, I will consider your training with me complete.”
“Initiates?” Ronin took a good long look at the mass of children a stone’s throw away from them. “Are they even strong enough to pick up a butter knife? These are children!”
“When a Druchii is born, a sword or spear is forged for them. It is the tradition of all of our people, commoner and lord alike. Buy the time they are your age, they are ready to be broken in on a yearlong raid, a ‘hawkseer cruise,’ to fight across the world and gather wealth in flesh and goods.
“My father told me of such things. He was a Druchii, remember?”
“If these youths survive by the end of it can then be considered fully fledged elves. Until then they need to know what end of the sword to hold. This is where you come in; and the orc slaves.”
A dozen Druchii warriors brought out three dozen brutish orcs in chains. They nailed their shackles into the ground, and left them to their demise. The same warriors then brought out several work tables. Unfurled upon them was every assortment of weapon in the Druchii armament.
“You expect me to trust you after this?” demanded Ronin.
“As far as you can throw me.” responded Tullaris.
“Well, I got nothing better to do.” Ronin signaled his compatriots to follow him, but to be weary as they did so.”
“I am Ronin, and I will be your teacher. Any questions?”
“Yeah, why is a weakling from a filthy people as you teaching us?”
“Relik, bring me the fool who said that. Do what you want with any who get in your way, but I leave the fool to me.”
Without a word, Sevril’Relik dashed towards the group of adolescents. The screams of terror and pain filled the air as the assassin tossed half of the youths aside, and began breaking the arms and legs of everyone else. With an audible bloody gulp, three more youths went face first into their own pool of blood. Before long, Sevril’Relik and returned, with his prey in hand. He tossed the youth at Ronin’s feet.
“His friends thought they could stab me in the back.”
“Is that so?” Ronin picked the boy up by the throat, both his hands preventing air from entering his lungs. “Listen, I just beat one of the deadliest warriors in Har Ganeth, much less this whole continent, within an inch of his life. I also fought ogres, greenskins, and the servants of Chaos and survived to tell the tale in the arena. If you can do a better job, you teach the lesson.”
“You’re still a filthy…”
Ronin shoved a fist into the youth’s gut. “This filthy nobody is having no problem beating you to a bloody pulp. What does that make you?” Ronin pushed the boy to the side, and walked over to the table. Just as he was about to grab one of the weapons, he sensed the boy was rushing towards him. The boy was armed with a knife and an unhealthy number of profanities. Ronin Shook his head, and thruster his gauntleted arm forward. Within an instant, his swords extended out from their hiding place, skewing the boy’s skull.
“Look at this waste?” growled Ronin to the other Druchii youths. He pulled his gauntlet sword out, and showed the blood dripping down it. “He died accomplishing nothing. Worse still, he constantly lied to himself that I was a weakling. This is my first lesson to you: Never underestimate your foes, ever. I do not care if they are fuzzy bunnies or Chraciean charioteers. If you do not do this, you will share the same fate as this fool. A death such as this is neither good nor honorable.
“So what else am I suppose to teach these miscreants?”
“Give them the basics of the each of them weapons before you.” said Tullaris, tapping finger on the butt of his blade.
“Fine then.” Ronin grasped the first sword he found. All but the end of the blade was a strait piece of metal. The head itself, on the other hand, was heavy, bulky, and more akin to an ax than a sword. “Now, can anyone tell me why this is called the ‘Arm Eater?” There was silence. “I can have volunteers, or I can get the minotaur to grab someone.”
A young girl was pushed forward. “Kelleth Maneater, sir.”
“Ronin will do, little soldier. Now what is the sword’s name in Druhur?
Ganthgharbhin, Ronin.” said the girl.
“Good, and why is it called the limb taker?
“Because the heavy head is made to carve limbs off.”
“Good. As you can see, it’s a hacking weapon. It’s not as sharp as say a saber, but it doesn’t have to be, this is also pretty good against armored foes. Even if the armor is unharmed, the impact can break and bruise bones, leaving your foe helpless against your assault. However, this has its problems.”
With a wide swing, Ronin took an orc’s head off. “As you can see you need a good swing to do any serious damage, which can leaves you open to an attack. Worst still, your stamina will drain quickly regardless if you know what you are doing. The last thing you need to be is too tired to lift a blade in the heat of battle. Those who wish to take this weapon up, must train daily to build up the strength and stamina to handle this weapon, and use it effectively. However, this is the blade of choice for infantry men.
“For others, the cutlass is the way to go. Guards, unshackle an orc, and arm him. Trust me: he’ll want to fight the best fighter here, and that would be me.” The guards tentatively released one of the brutes, and handed him a mace. As Ronin expected it charged him. Ronin in return slammed the thick guard on his sword into the greenskin’s face. Another powerful blow pushed the brute back just far enough for the blade revealed the insides of the orc’s neck. Another swipe and its head was rolling on the ground.
“This is why the mighty corsairs use these blades above all others. Do you see what it can do? This sword has a good sized blade, meaning it packs quite a punch. The blade is also sharp, and is well maintained will retain a sharp enough edge to slice your foe to ribbons. But when you have no room to slice or stab, the guard is thick and heavy so you may bludgeon a foe away in a jiffy.
“However one type of sword that still requires just one hand to use, and is as deadly on who you wish to use it upon as it is you yourself. For you see, this blade here,” continued on Ronin as he picked up a strait sword. With gusto he walked up to two more of the orcs. “Has a surprise of its own.” With one swing, an orc was down. With the return swing, so was the other. “Carful with this blade as carelessness will see you remove your own head as well as your foes. It also needs more work as normal swords only need one edge to be kept sharp, while the double edge needs both be remain effective.
“Now foe much shorter blades: Can someone tell me the difference between a dagger and a knife?”
Another hand was raised, and Ronin allowed the bearer, a small boy, to answer. “A knife is sharp on one side, and a dagger is sharp on two?”
“Good. Now in both cases, you are going to prefer a stabbing weapon for the most part. Do not take a weapon that is just for slicing if all you do is make cuts for that will take too long to vanquish your foe; time they need to kill you first. If you are to cut them, cut deep into their flesh; expose his gore to the world, or maybe you just want to slit a few throats. Regardless, one does not necessarily need a long dagger or knife. One that is a finger’s length will make it your opponent’s heart, and thus still able to make a kill. However, swords like this combat knife,” as Ronin said this he picked up a large trench knife that was a two fingers wide and a little longer then the length of a hand from wrist to finger tips. “As you can see, it is made to last. It can handle greater stresses of combat, and in this case, the guards act as a secondary bludgeoning weapon.
“But for me, another type of knife is good. This is also one made popular by many an assassin and rouge: The throwing knife.” With that, Ronin tossed a throwing blade deep into a wooden target hanging on a nearby tree. “Rule one with any throwing knife: Hold the heavy end. If the blade is the heavy end, grab that, or if the handle is heavier you must grab that. The blades only have a few sword lengths of effective range, and hit as hard as you can throw it, but it is nice to have for kills that require silence, you do not have time to work a bow.
“Now bludgeoning weapons. Most of these weapons are made for one purpose: getting past armor. They can smash skulls, break bones, bruise bodies, all methods of killing and immobilizing. Guards, get me some melons, and a few of the helms from warriors these youths will face. Also, I need something that the helms can fit on for the next demonstration.”
The guards did as they were told, bringing several large melons, and a few skulls and helms of every race. A Dwarf warrior, a Bretonian Knight, a Nippon Samurai, a Sigmarite Great sword, a high elf spearman, and a some helms that belongs to the dark elves. This was what Ronin wanted.
Ronin grabbed several clubs, and handed them to the students. “These are all maces. All of them are clubs with a metal bludgeoning instrument on the end of a strong handle. As you can see, they are all different, and their designs are all different, but their use is all the same. Case in point: Ronin grabbed another mace from the table, one that was a long cylinder shaped head. With a mighty stroke the nearest melon was now in chunks. “Now let us see what it does to helms.” He said with a face full of melon.
Ronin struck the knight’s helm with enough forces to dent the metal and send the skull and helm flying. “A blow like that can break foe’s neck, no matter how much armor they have. Next came the samurai’s helm, smashing the front in. “As with most things, be wary of this foe. They are one of the few enemies that give us a run for our money, and as such provide the most fun to fight. Their helms are design to make most blows glance off, so you just have to aim it just right to do any serious damage, even with a sword like this.
A few more smashed fruit and Ronin was ready for the pole arms, and then the next weapon and the next weapon. By the time the sun was setting, Ronin had finished his lessons, a few more brash elves pushed their luck and attacked Ronin only for him to slay them effortlessly, and all but a handful of orcs were reduced to chunks of flesh.
“That is all for now. Hopefully this will help you all to choose your favored weapon. And remember, you must learn to deal with all weapons and use all weapons for you never know when you shall need it. Permission to leave, Captain.”
“Permission granted, Ronin. You have finished your final exam. May what you have leaned in your stay in Har Ganeth stay with you.”
Ronin bowed, and left the training field. Once they were far out of earshot of the Executioners., Ronin finally spoke his mind. “Arhedel, Permission to stick my finger down my throat.”
“You don’t feel comfortable with your lot in life?”
“I made my choice in life, but the children I just taught…I taught them to be better killers. My father did the same thing, but he was expecting me to use it in times of need. Those children have already been indoctrinated into this life, and are being forced to fight their forefather’s war. What is wrong with this place?”
Sevril’Relik hit Ronin in the back of his head with the flat of his hand. “Potters teach their children to make pots; Musicians teach their children how to play instruments; black smiths teach their children how to work with metal. Why should not a race of warriors teach their children the ways of war?”
“Because they are teaching them to be savages and thugs. They will lack your finesse or Arhedel’s precision, and yet see what they do as noble.”
“Yeah, Druchii are funny like that. Get used to it or go ahead and fall on your sword now, because it isn’t going to get better.
“Oh, that is a bleak thought. And what makes you thinks I won’t add more finesse to this? If I am going to lead an army, I want to be able to trust my soldiers are up to snuff. With a lax attitude of quality, I wondering how in the abyss my city was sacked and I ended up here.”
Relik simply smote Ronin again like he did before. “And how can a kin-slaying traitor, with an assassin, three lovelies that are as deadly as they are good to look at, and a minotaur plan on doing this?”
“If Anerion can arm our ancestors and hold the daemons back for as long as he did, I think I can put in some higher standards in the training. I want soldiers, not sword fodder. If I want that I’d have orcs and tell them there is a barrel of dwarven beer on the other side of the castle, the first one who gets in gets to drink it all.”
“Interesting. If the marauders don’t work out, we may have to try that next.”
“We did tell Ronin not to drink the punch at the party last night, right?” asked Arhedel.
“I believe so, why?” asked Selexa.
“Because I think someone slipped him a lot of it.”
“Don’t worry. I have not forgotten who I am.” Replied Ronin. He turned around so he may face his doubters. “This was once a glorious people, one that had a rich and honorable history. Now it is one that thrives on deceit and destruction for the sake of both, biding their time with simply stealing what from others and hating a foe simply because they are told to. I do not want this. I will train in this land, but I will also bring back its honor, something it lost so long ago.”
“Carful what you say Ronin.” replied Relik. “The Witch King is a paranoid old man, and one with spies seen and unseen. He could think of what you say as treason.”
“So I will simply bide my time and my tongue until I can put standards back into these armies. So, does anyone know what Karond Kar is like?”
All three women groaned something horrid, leaving Sevril’Relik to answer. “It’s a nice place, to a point. Winter is horrible, and had it not been for the walls the place would be completely unbearable. Most of the war beasts are reared and trained there, namely that of mounts and hydras. There is also a healthy population of harpies on the peninsula.”
“I thought it was an Island.”
“It changes depending on the moods of the sorceresses enchanting the charms that protect the city from invaders. Not that it needs wizards to summon up a whirlpool to defend itself. The city is surrounded by harsh sees, aggressive and very hungry sea life, and the walls are nigh impenetrable. Add all of the monsters they have at their beck and call, and the city can hold its own for some time.”
“Because of that, it is also the staging area for all of the raids.” replied Arhedel. Every raiding voyage must unload what is not given to the crew and captain to the Karond Kar, with most of that going towards Malekeith and his war machine. It is also where slaves of every kind are bought and trained.”
“Slaves?” Ronin had to stop. “That city is a slaver’s port.”
“Druchii see no difference between training a dog or a house slave. The only difference is a dog doesn’t get used as pleasure slave if it’s pretty enough.”
“Great, I go from a city that thrives on insanity, to one that thrives on laziness.”
“I wouldn’t call the beastmasters lazy, Ronin, especially as you will be training under the master of the hydras.” retorted Relik, trying to keep Ronin from slitting his own throat.
“Relik, I grew up a farm boy in a backwoods village. I learned what hard work was. I also lived the other half of my life in a city, one with highborns. Highborns have serfs, and serfs are nothing more than a polite way of saying slave. There is no way I am going to be one of those prissy, lazy, fools. If they could pick up their own sword instead of having one of their servants put it in their hands, they might have kept the corsairs at bay. Instead, I’m here, and my friends are either dead or banished from our homeland. I came here seeking a way for vindication, not become what I was fighting against.”
“I hope you succeed in that goal. It is difficult to live such a lofty goal here.”
“Your faith in my skills is reassuring, Sevril’Relik.” said Ronin with plenty of venom in those words.
“Don’t get me wrong. I think you can make it. Just, you’re not the first idealist I have worked with, and all but one of them proved to be just like the other nobility in this land. And the one that didn’t make it,”
“You killed him.”
“No, but her death was my fault.”
“Her?”
“Please, it’s one of the few things in my life I’m not proud of. Just, please leave it there.”
“If you wish to tell me more, you will do so on your own time. Until such a time, it is your secret to keep.”
“Well, if you want to survive in this land, and still keep your idealism we need to up the training, he who has beaten Tullaris and lived to tell the tale.
Ok, I have one more chapter before the end, but I hope this will be enough to keep you going.
The Final Test.
Ronin and his compatriots arose the next morning having full bellies and too much drink the previous night. A servant girl had brought the message they were requested in their battle attire, to the training fields. Without delay, they donned their armor, readied their weapons of choice, and marched out to greet the morning. Under normal circumstances, this would have not been an issue, but as Ronin’s training was over, for now in the cursed city of the Executioners at least, they all wondered what was going on. In Sevril’Relik’s case, he couldn’t stop murmuring about it.
This ended the moment they entered the practice field, and Selexa shoved her elbow in his ribs. There Tularis waited, in his full battle attire his favorite great sword in hand, and a courtyard filled with elves. Ronin eyeballed the elite guard surrounding Tullaris, and guessed there had to be at twenty four of them. The rest of the court yard was filled with guards and a large division of elves half of Ronin’s height. The guards and Executioners were one thing, but what were children doing here?
Ronin knew they had all received training in the art of war, his father taught him so much and made sure his new son would be prepared to defend his love ones at a moment’s notice. But they all appeared to be no more than fifty to sixty years of age, and if so they would not have been much a threat.
Elves are a long lived raced, with the ripe old age of one thousand not unheard of, with some elves pushing up to two thousand years without the aid of mystical means. However this means that an elf’s adolescence tends to be long. Regardless if one is Asure, Asri, Druchii, or any other faction that exists remains the same. For the first twenty five years they get to enjoy a childhood, doing small menial tasks when they were deemed strong enough. What happens after their twenty fifth summer, spring, fall, or winter differs from race to race, and kingdom to kingdom.
Amongst the Druchii, a people bred for combat and little else, this child hood would be a merciful calm before the storm. At their twenty fifth year of life, a Druchii child begins learning the basics of battle. Some parents choose to train their children earlier, especially if their offspring shows a talent for it, giving their children a head start in life. However unless the child was deemed worthy to enter the schools of magic, this was to their life. Regardless, the training now was to build up their strength and stamina. When their parents or elder siblings as the case may be, deem the adolescent strong enough, they next phase beguines. Each Druchii is forged a sword or spear at birth, and that is the weapon they learn to use. By the time they had seen their fiftieth summer, they are ready for their next phase of training.
Ronin may have been no older than they were when he began taking lessons from his father, but he took to the fighting arts as a sparrow takes to the air. Ronin had thirty years of training under the tutelage of a renegade Druchii noble, and he made sure the youth knew what he knew. With the knowledge he had gained in that time, he could fight quarter of a regiment of Druchii without working up a sweat. The other three fourths would have proven a problem though as Ronin’s training had never finished.
Still, even after his death, Ronin proved himself a mighty warrior. With his village destroyed, the stripling made the journey out of his nativity and into the wilds until he reached a settlement. Beasts of all manner of hunger and temperament tried to make a meal out of the youth, and in returned Ronin supped well on their carcasses.
When he reached the safety of a city, he lost some of his fighting skills, growing complacent in the calmness that was there. This was not to say he had lost all of his abilities as his adoptive family owned a tavern, and his warrior instincts became alive again when the sight and sound of rowdy customers looking for a fight. Over the decades that lasted, he had regained all of his lost skill, and learned a few more underhanded tricks to aid him.
However it would not be until Ronin Reached Har Ganeth that he truly learned what was needed of him as a warrior. He had been forged into a weapon, a pure blade that was truly refined. What stood before him were all dark blades, impure blades, by comparison and they would break as any brittle weapon in a fight against him.
Besides, Ronin had learned enough of Druchii society to learn that had not yet been given the chance to truly ripen into warriors. By the time Druchii child reached the ripe age of sixty, they would spend the next four decades of their life training in the fortress city of Ghround, a place so close to the chaotic Northern Borders that if forged recruits into warriors as a black smith turn ore into a sword. Those initiates who survive may be given the opportunity to take longer training sessions in the frigid city, becoming the elite warriors of the Witch King’s favored generals. Most, however, were likely to return to their home city to finish their training under their family’s watchful eyes. Once they reach a hundred and ten, they are off on a yearlong raiding voyage called a Hawkseer cruise.
These cruises survived three purposes. One: to take a young lord coming of age, and let him or her command troops so they can earn a reputation and a small fortune by their actions. Two: To take raw recruits and let them see if the years of training paid off. And finally, Three: To bring back wealth in food, luxury goods, slaves, and weapons.
Those who had survived could then stand equally with the adults. They were fully blooded warriors. Even those who died on this cruise had still brought honor to their family by getting that far, and dying as all Druchii wished to: On the field of battle. They were also eligible to own property or marry, to have their opinions hold weight in discussion, and to become officers themselves. These were all destinies Ronin planned on denying them, though if given the choice, would rather fight an adult than a child.
“Welcome, Ronin and his war band. We are here for one final exam. One I had not given in a long time. It is rare for one to survive this long. Four nearly a thousand years I have waited for this moment.”
“I thought Har Harkon said it was only…”
“Four hundred, eight hundred, two thousand, does it truly matter how long ago it happened, or when it did so long as it did? In any case, it has truly been an honor to found someone of your caliber, even if you are an Asur. Now Face me.”
“You think an army of children will stop me?”
“They are here to watch. It is not often they get to see a…”
Ronin finished this with a punch to the Death Lord’s face. “I’ve heard Asur philosophers less long winded then you. Any one that tries to interfere, be they elf or deity, do with them as you will. The Draich Master is mine!”
Ronin pulled out his sword and shield, and prepared to strike the Executioner down. Tullaris stepped out of the way, raising his blade to parry. He tried to bring his blade down upon his foe, but Ronin was now accustomed to fighting foes with great weapons, Draiches were no exception. With a swift kick to the chest, Tullaris was thrown back the length of his draich’s blade. Ronin Taunted him with his sword, a brand new scimitar of his own making.
Tullaris only grinned, but he celebrated too soon. Ronin couldn’t detect the skilled assassins, ones of the highest calibers of killers, but he didn’t need to. Sevril’Relik leaped out from nowhere onto the middle of one of the two assailant backs, stomping him into the ground. Another quick stomp and the killer would be now paralyzed for life. This just left the other, who was fast approaching Ronin with a naked dagger. No problem with an elf with a sickle and chain. Relik tossed the skull like metal ball into the assassin’s buttocks, sending him off balanced, and into one of the fire pits. He pulled the chain back, sending the ball into the burning assassin’s skull.
“I’m learning your bad habit’s kid.”
“That’s the thing about them, Master Sevril’Relik: They are fun to pass around.” With that Ronin lunged at Tullaris again.
Sevril’Relik just shook his head, and darted towards the next follower of Khaine. “I love this kid.”
Tullaris ordered a number of his guards forward, blocking the stripling’s path towards him. Ronin cared not. He sheathed his sword, and tossed his shield at his nearest for. The surprised attack was followed with a dagger shoved in the Executioner’s face, and another into his throat. Before Ronin could pull them out, the onrush of an angry bull minotaur sent most of the guards flying, while more were cleaved in two by the force of his sword arm.
Any that survived that onslaught were picked off by Ronin as he aimed for the weak spot of their armor. The mail veils many of the Drach nya Khain used to protect their faces were great against arrow fire, but all mail has a weakness: Piercing weapons, such as a pair of long, pointed daggers. Others had to deal with Arhedel’s armor piercing, and now venomous bolts.
It was a blood bath, and a waste of life, but one Ronin knew he had to perform. With a sudden burst of speed, the stripling rushed passed the remaining combatants, letting the beastman handle the rest. It was now just him, Tullaris, and a pair of assassins.
“You think this would be that easy?” mocked Tullaris.
Ronin simply shrugged his shoulders. Without warning, Sulfura slammed a potted plant into one assassin’s skull, allowing Ronin the chance to toss a dagger into his throat. The other had the misfortune of having the roots of the trees in the practice field erupt from the ground, and constrict the very life from him. However, he died swiftly as black barbs sprouted from every conceivable inch of the roots, piercing every vital area the elf had.
“All things considered, I want to beat some humility into you.” With that, Ronin’s sword was out again, this time out to stay.
“And what do you think a slashing weapon will do against my armor?”
“I wonder if the enchantments that were put on here will cut metal as well as it goes through flesh?”
Ronin didn’t have long to find out. Tullaris swung his blade at the youth, using wide circular motions with his arms to build up enough momentum to match Ronin’s speed. The stripling in turn focused all of his efforts on not getting cleaved in half. When he did see opportunity to use his sword, he took it. Though he did not wound the captain, Ronin had managed to shave off a large strip of the rings making up the Executioner’s mail sleeve.
Ronin quickly examined his blade, and went back to work. As he had hoped it was in perfect condition, biting through Tullaris’ armor like it was hot butter. Ronin stepped out of the way of another strike and sent his elbow into Tularis’s face. With his boot, the stripling kept the massive draich on the ground, allowing Tullaris to be at the youth’s mercy.
“It is time to end this.” Declared Ronin, his blade at the throat of the warlord.
“Is that so?” said the Captain of the Executioners.
Ronin cursed under his breath as he heard a bow string being pulled into place behind his head. “You master assassin?”
“Yes actually. And that manbane poison should do nicely against your thick skull of yours.”
“Are you referring to the one attached to my neck, or the one attached to my cloak? Oh, and how thick is yours?”
Sevril’Relik was behind Tullaris, his blades just shy of slicing his throat. “A class assassins, not bad. They gave me a bit of a workout, but nothing I couldn’t handle.”
Behind Tullaris’ assassin, Sorbeck and Arhedel were making their presence known. “Try and dodge this.”
The last two to attack was Sulfura and Selexa, each placing a dagger under Tullaris’ throat. “Did you forget about us?”
“If you kill me, it will be considered treason.”
“You summoned me hear with the intent to see what I am capable of. I slew a great number of your warriors, and even what I did not slay my friends have and can still make short work of. Face it, I learned your lesson. Now, you can call your assassin of, or we can end it all now.”
“What happens if the assassin changes targets?”
Ronin elbowed the assassin in the gut, doubling the master killer over, but not before he let off a single bolt into Ronin’s skull. However, as he expected the dart simply bounced off harmlessly, and imbedded itself in the sod. Ronin turned around and sent an elbow into his gut and again in the groin.
Sorbeck, placed a hoof on Tullaris’ driach so the Deathlord wouldn’t try anything. “He’s all yours.”
“Is that so? Remove his helm.” commanded Ronin. Selexa removed Tullaris’ helm, and tossed it a ways away. “I’ve been waiting a long time to do this, Dread Bringer.” With That, Ronin sheathed his blade, and sent a fist into the captain’s face. Ronin struck him again and again and again until he was satisfied his foe would no-longer be able to stand on his own.
“Let him go.” Relik and Sulfura looked at each other then back at Ronin. “I said drop him.” They did as they were told, and threw the Captain of the Executioners to the ground.
“Everything you’ve taught me, I learned, and learned well. But I can’t help but feel you are empty inside. You live to kill and nothing more. What will happen on the day you run out of foes to kill? Will you attack the Witch King, as he would be the only one left to slay? I’ve learned everything I needed to learn from you, and now I can kill you at any time, or have any of my retinue do the deed.”
“Then why don’t you? Get it over with, you Asur Whelp.”
Ronin went down on one knee, and patted Tullaris on the cheek. “Because I do not need to. I’ll let you live because I do not need you to die. You can strike at me all you want, but it will be self defense, and I am sure there are some real prizes waiting to take your place as Captain of the Executioner. Do you really want to push your luck, and let one of those fools run your cult into the ground?”
Tullaris didn’t wait long to respond. “No.”
“Besides, we do this garbage at least once a month. What in the abyss have you waited a long time to test me on?”
The Dread Bringer picked himself up, and what dignity he had left with him. “I want to see if you can pass that knowledge on to the next generation. If you can teach these initiates a little of what you learned, I will consider your training with me complete.”
“Initiates?” Ronin took a good long look at the mass of children a stone’s throw away from them. “Are they even strong enough to pick up a butter knife? These are children!”
“When a Druchii is born, a sword or spear is forged for them. It is the tradition of all of our people, commoner and lord alike. Buy the time they are your age, they are ready to be broken in on a yearlong raid, a ‘hawkseer cruise,’ to fight across the world and gather wealth in flesh and goods.
“My father told me of such things. He was a Druchii, remember?”
“If these youths survive by the end of it can then be considered fully fledged elves. Until then they need to know what end of the sword to hold. This is where you come in; and the orc slaves.”
A dozen Druchii warriors brought out three dozen brutish orcs in chains. They nailed their shackles into the ground, and left them to their demise. The same warriors then brought out several work tables. Unfurled upon them was every assortment of weapon in the Druchii armament.
“You expect me to trust you after this?” demanded Ronin.
“As far as you can throw me.” responded Tullaris.
“Well, I got nothing better to do.” Ronin signaled his compatriots to follow him, but to be weary as they did so.”
“I am Ronin, and I will be your teacher. Any questions?”
“Yeah, why is a weakling from a filthy people as you teaching us?”
“Relik, bring me the fool who said that. Do what you want with any who get in your way, but I leave the fool to me.”
Without a word, Sevril’Relik dashed towards the group of adolescents. The screams of terror and pain filled the air as the assassin tossed half of the youths aside, and began breaking the arms and legs of everyone else. With an audible bloody gulp, three more youths went face first into their own pool of blood. Before long, Sevril’Relik and returned, with his prey in hand. He tossed the youth at Ronin’s feet.
“His friends thought they could stab me in the back.”
“Is that so?” Ronin picked the boy up by the throat, both his hands preventing air from entering his lungs. “Listen, I just beat one of the deadliest warriors in Har Ganeth, much less this whole continent, within an inch of his life. I also fought ogres, greenskins, and the servants of Chaos and survived to tell the tale in the arena. If you can do a better job, you teach the lesson.”
“You’re still a filthy…”
Ronin shoved a fist into the youth’s gut. “This filthy nobody is having no problem beating you to a bloody pulp. What does that make you?” Ronin pushed the boy to the side, and walked over to the table. Just as he was about to grab one of the weapons, he sensed the boy was rushing towards him. The boy was armed with a knife and an unhealthy number of profanities. Ronin Shook his head, and thruster his gauntleted arm forward. Within an instant, his swords extended out from their hiding place, skewing the boy’s skull.
“Look at this waste?” growled Ronin to the other Druchii youths. He pulled his gauntlet sword out, and showed the blood dripping down it. “He died accomplishing nothing. Worse still, he constantly lied to himself that I was a weakling. This is my first lesson to you: Never underestimate your foes, ever. I do not care if they are fuzzy bunnies or Chraciean charioteers. If you do not do this, you will share the same fate as this fool. A death such as this is neither good nor honorable.
“So what else am I suppose to teach these miscreants?”
“Give them the basics of the each of them weapons before you.” said Tullaris, tapping finger on the butt of his blade.
“Fine then.” Ronin grasped the first sword he found. All but the end of the blade was a strait piece of metal. The head itself, on the other hand, was heavy, bulky, and more akin to an ax than a sword. “Now, can anyone tell me why this is called the ‘Arm Eater?” There was silence. “I can have volunteers, or I can get the minotaur to grab someone.”
A young girl was pushed forward. “Kelleth Maneater, sir.”
“Ronin will do, little soldier. Now what is the sword’s name in Druhur?
Ganthgharbhin, Ronin.” said the girl.
“Good, and why is it called the limb taker?
“Because the heavy head is made to carve limbs off.”
“Good. As you can see, it’s a hacking weapon. It’s not as sharp as say a saber, but it doesn’t have to be, this is also pretty good against armored foes. Even if the armor is unharmed, the impact can break and bruise bones, leaving your foe helpless against your assault. However, this has its problems.”
With a wide swing, Ronin took an orc’s head off. “As you can see you need a good swing to do any serious damage, which can leaves you open to an attack. Worst still, your stamina will drain quickly regardless if you know what you are doing. The last thing you need to be is too tired to lift a blade in the heat of battle. Those who wish to take this weapon up, must train daily to build up the strength and stamina to handle this weapon, and use it effectively. However, this is the blade of choice for infantry men.
“For others, the cutlass is the way to go. Guards, unshackle an orc, and arm him. Trust me: he’ll want to fight the best fighter here, and that would be me.” The guards tentatively released one of the brutes, and handed him a mace. As Ronin expected it charged him. Ronin in return slammed the thick guard on his sword into the greenskin’s face. Another powerful blow pushed the brute back just far enough for the blade revealed the insides of the orc’s neck. Another swipe and its head was rolling on the ground.
“This is why the mighty corsairs use these blades above all others. Do you see what it can do? This sword has a good sized blade, meaning it packs quite a punch. The blade is also sharp, and is well maintained will retain a sharp enough edge to slice your foe to ribbons. But when you have no room to slice or stab, the guard is thick and heavy so you may bludgeon a foe away in a jiffy.
“However one type of sword that still requires just one hand to use, and is as deadly on who you wish to use it upon as it is you yourself. For you see, this blade here,” continued on Ronin as he picked up a strait sword. With gusto he walked up to two more of the orcs. “Has a surprise of its own.” With one swing, an orc was down. With the return swing, so was the other. “Carful with this blade as carelessness will see you remove your own head as well as your foes. It also needs more work as normal swords only need one edge to be kept sharp, while the double edge needs both be remain effective.
“Now foe much shorter blades: Can someone tell me the difference between a dagger and a knife?”
Another hand was raised, and Ronin allowed the bearer, a small boy, to answer. “A knife is sharp on one side, and a dagger is sharp on two?”
“Good. Now in both cases, you are going to prefer a stabbing weapon for the most part. Do not take a weapon that is just for slicing if all you do is make cuts for that will take too long to vanquish your foe; time they need to kill you first. If you are to cut them, cut deep into their flesh; expose his gore to the world, or maybe you just want to slit a few throats. Regardless, one does not necessarily need a long dagger or knife. One that is a finger’s length will make it your opponent’s heart, and thus still able to make a kill. However, swords like this combat knife,” as Ronin said this he picked up a large trench knife that was a two fingers wide and a little longer then the length of a hand from wrist to finger tips. “As you can see, it is made to last. It can handle greater stresses of combat, and in this case, the guards act as a secondary bludgeoning weapon.
“But for me, another type of knife is good. This is also one made popular by many an assassin and rouge: The throwing knife.” With that, Ronin tossed a throwing blade deep into a wooden target hanging on a nearby tree. “Rule one with any throwing knife: Hold the heavy end. If the blade is the heavy end, grab that, or if the handle is heavier you must grab that. The blades only have a few sword lengths of effective range, and hit as hard as you can throw it, but it is nice to have for kills that require silence, you do not have time to work a bow.
“Now bludgeoning weapons. Most of these weapons are made for one purpose: getting past armor. They can smash skulls, break bones, bruise bodies, all methods of killing and immobilizing. Guards, get me some melons, and a few of the helms from warriors these youths will face. Also, I need something that the helms can fit on for the next demonstration.”
The guards did as they were told, bringing several large melons, and a few skulls and helms of every race. A Dwarf warrior, a Bretonian Knight, a Nippon Samurai, a Sigmarite Great sword, a high elf spearman, and a some helms that belongs to the dark elves. This was what Ronin wanted.
Ronin grabbed several clubs, and handed them to the students. “These are all maces. All of them are clubs with a metal bludgeoning instrument on the end of a strong handle. As you can see, they are all different, and their designs are all different, but their use is all the same. Case in point: Ronin grabbed another mace from the table, one that was a long cylinder shaped head. With a mighty stroke the nearest melon was now in chunks. “Now let us see what it does to helms.” He said with a face full of melon.
Ronin struck the knight’s helm with enough forces to dent the metal and send the skull and helm flying. “A blow like that can break foe’s neck, no matter how much armor they have. Next came the samurai’s helm, smashing the front in. “As with most things, be wary of this foe. They are one of the few enemies that give us a run for our money, and as such provide the most fun to fight. Their helms are design to make most blows glance off, so you just have to aim it just right to do any serious damage, even with a sword like this.
A few more smashed fruit and Ronin was ready for the pole arms, and then the next weapon and the next weapon. By the time the sun was setting, Ronin had finished his lessons, a few more brash elves pushed their luck and attacked Ronin only for him to slay them effortlessly, and all but a handful of orcs were reduced to chunks of flesh.
“That is all for now. Hopefully this will help you all to choose your favored weapon. And remember, you must learn to deal with all weapons and use all weapons for you never know when you shall need it. Permission to leave, Captain.”
“Permission granted, Ronin. You have finished your final exam. May what you have leaned in your stay in Har Ganeth stay with you.”
Ronin bowed, and left the training field. Once they were far out of earshot of the Executioners., Ronin finally spoke his mind. “Arhedel, Permission to stick my finger down my throat.”
“You don’t feel comfortable with your lot in life?”
“I made my choice in life, but the children I just taught…I taught them to be better killers. My father did the same thing, but he was expecting me to use it in times of need. Those children have already been indoctrinated into this life, and are being forced to fight their forefather’s war. What is wrong with this place?”
Sevril’Relik hit Ronin in the back of his head with the flat of his hand. “Potters teach their children to make pots; Musicians teach their children how to play instruments; black smiths teach their children how to work with metal. Why should not a race of warriors teach their children the ways of war?”
“Because they are teaching them to be savages and thugs. They will lack your finesse or Arhedel’s precision, and yet see what they do as noble.”
“Yeah, Druchii are funny like that. Get used to it or go ahead and fall on your sword now, because it isn’t going to get better.
“Oh, that is a bleak thought. And what makes you thinks I won’t add more finesse to this? If I am going to lead an army, I want to be able to trust my soldiers are up to snuff. With a lax attitude of quality, I wondering how in the abyss my city was sacked and I ended up here.”
Relik simply smote Ronin again like he did before. “And how can a kin-slaying traitor, with an assassin, three lovelies that are as deadly as they are good to look at, and a minotaur plan on doing this?”
“If Anerion can arm our ancestors and hold the daemons back for as long as he did, I think I can put in some higher standards in the training. I want soldiers, not sword fodder. If I want that I’d have orcs and tell them there is a barrel of dwarven beer on the other side of the castle, the first one who gets in gets to drink it all.”
“Interesting. If the marauders don’t work out, we may have to try that next.”
“We did tell Ronin not to drink the punch at the party last night, right?” asked Arhedel.
“I believe so, why?” asked Selexa.
“Because I think someone slipped him a lot of it.”
“Don’t worry. I have not forgotten who I am.” Replied Ronin. He turned around so he may face his doubters. “This was once a glorious people, one that had a rich and honorable history. Now it is one that thrives on deceit and destruction for the sake of both, biding their time with simply stealing what from others and hating a foe simply because they are told to. I do not want this. I will train in this land, but I will also bring back its honor, something it lost so long ago.”
“Carful what you say Ronin.” replied Relik. “The Witch King is a paranoid old man, and one with spies seen and unseen. He could think of what you say as treason.”
“So I will simply bide my time and my tongue until I can put standards back into these armies. So, does anyone know what Karond Kar is like?”
All three women groaned something horrid, leaving Sevril’Relik to answer. “It’s a nice place, to a point. Winter is horrible, and had it not been for the walls the place would be completely unbearable. Most of the war beasts are reared and trained there, namely that of mounts and hydras. There is also a healthy population of harpies on the peninsula.”
“I thought it was an Island.”
“It changes depending on the moods of the sorceresses enchanting the charms that protect the city from invaders. Not that it needs wizards to summon up a whirlpool to defend itself. The city is surrounded by harsh sees, aggressive and very hungry sea life, and the walls are nigh impenetrable. Add all of the monsters they have at their beck and call, and the city can hold its own for some time.”
“Because of that, it is also the staging area for all of the raids.” replied Arhedel. Every raiding voyage must unload what is not given to the crew and captain to the Karond Kar, with most of that going towards Malekeith and his war machine. It is also where slaves of every kind are bought and trained.”
“Slaves?” Ronin had to stop. “That city is a slaver’s port.”
“Druchii see no difference between training a dog or a house slave. The only difference is a dog doesn’t get used as pleasure slave if it’s pretty enough.”
“Great, I go from a city that thrives on insanity, to one that thrives on laziness.”
“I wouldn’t call the beastmasters lazy, Ronin, especially as you will be training under the master of the hydras.” retorted Relik, trying to keep Ronin from slitting his own throat.
“Relik, I grew up a farm boy in a backwoods village. I learned what hard work was. I also lived the other half of my life in a city, one with highborns. Highborns have serfs, and serfs are nothing more than a polite way of saying slave. There is no way I am going to be one of those prissy, lazy, fools. If they could pick up their own sword instead of having one of their servants put it in their hands, they might have kept the corsairs at bay. Instead, I’m here, and my friends are either dead or banished from our homeland. I came here seeking a way for vindication, not become what I was fighting against.”
“I hope you succeed in that goal. It is difficult to live such a lofty goal here.”
“Your faith in my skills is reassuring, Sevril’Relik.” said Ronin with plenty of venom in those words.
“Don’t get me wrong. I think you can make it. Just, you’re not the first idealist I have worked with, and all but one of them proved to be just like the other nobility in this land. And the one that didn’t make it,”
“You killed him.”
“No, but her death was my fault.”
“Her?”
“Please, it’s one of the few things in my life I’m not proud of. Just, please leave it there.”
“If you wish to tell me more, you will do so on your own time. Until such a time, it is your secret to keep.”
“Well, if you want to survive in this land, and still keep your idealism we need to up the training, he who has beaten Tullaris and lived to tell the tale.
Who needs sanity? I have a Hydra
Before I post the final chapter, I just want to say thank you for all your support and all the traffic this story has received.
So lets finish this off.
The End of a Conquest
Ronin, unarmed, faced off against Selexa. Her prowess with the dark arts, though great, still had to be kept hidden as she was not a sanctioned spell caster. Had she been, she would have incurred the wrath of Malekeith who was ceremonially wedded to all the sorceresses in the Land of Chill, and he was a very jealous husband. To help keep this secret, Ronin thought it would be good to teach his bride a few defensive moves. After all in this dark land, you were a warrior, a spell weaver, a slave, a war beast, a slave, or a corps. All had their purposes to serve, but being dead had its drawbacks, and being caught using magic illegally was a surefire way of ending up as such.
With the Temple of Khaine firmly loathing magic, and few other options available to her, this left her truly defenseless. This was a state Ronin would never tolerate any lover of his to be in.
“Are you ready?” he asked. He only wore a plain tunic and tights, leaving only his martial prowess as his weapon and shield. The woman did likewise.
“I am.” responded Selexa, her mind focused on the task at hand.
“Then come.”
The woman rushed in, her fists and open palms thrusting into Ronin’s face. Ronin blocked each stroke deftly, complimenting his opponent where she succeeded and told her what her mistakes were. After two weeks of training, she was improving but still noticeably off balanced. Still, it took most warriors at least a month to not fall on their face ever few steps, and another two where they could comfortably use such moves. Two months they did not have.
When the sands of an hour glass filled a quarter of the bottom bulb, Ronin had signaled the session to end. Selexa was breathing heavy, still not used to this kind of workout. Ronin’s breathing was also getting strained, but he was used to this level of strain. Ronin knew what Selexa’s limits were, and she still needed to work on that stamina. The woman knew her limits as well, but she wanted to continue on anyways.
“Selexa, rest. Our sparing session is over.” Ronin commanded, unusually sternly.
“No man commands me like that.” growled Selexa, and she rushed towards Ronin to knock some sense into him.
The stripling, without hesitation or remorse, threw her to the ground, and pinned her there with his frame. “Remember what I taught you: do not fight when you are in a weakened state unless you have no other choice, otherwise you’re just handicapping yourself. And Selexa, use your anger, never be used by it. Otherwise you are just one of Khaine’s berserkers. Does not the Lord of Murder deserve much better?”
Ronin brought his head so it would be only a breath away from Selexa’s. She was completely defenseless. Just the way he doesn’t like his women. He kissed her once then picked himself up. Freed at last, Selexa managed to pull herself up as well. It was a good session, and Ronin hoped the lessons learned here would keep her alive.
On the other side of the room, Sevril’Relik made preparations of his own. Sulfura’s physical scars were gone, but the ones that mired her psyche were still deep chasms of woe. Ronin had largely given up on comforting her, and so did the other two she elves. Only Relik seemed to care, as strange as that sounded, and only he remained attuned to her real needs.
“How did you enjoy Ronin’s teaching methods?” Sevril’Relik asked her. He traced his naked finger across her bare back, a green trail of energy following a few inches behind it. The therapeutic touch seemed to be helping her.
“It’s interesting. He doesn’t have the heart of a killer though.”
“He’s stupid, but he can and will kill. He just doesn’t find any enjoyment in it.”
The girl was quite. Her normal gloom had returned to her. How can someone choose this life, and not enjoy it? It didn’t make any sense.
“I know what you’re thinking Selexa. I thought it as well. What is a boy like him doing trying to become something he cannot be: A cold hearted killer!”
“Yeah.” She said in a whimper. Her pulse was increasing steadily; she knew when a man came this close it only meant one thing. It was one thing when she was enchanted; the spirit placed within her valued pleasure in all hedonistic forms. But now that she was freed of its grasp, she could only feel fear in its purest, undiluted form.
“What he wants’ is revenge. His first home was destroyed by a daemon of great power. His second home was destroyed by corsairs, and left to their mercies by an Asur prince. As the one who lead the invasion is dead, that just leaves the other two to vent his anger on.
“My gods, he is giving up on his life to take a life?”
“He’s not doing it for entirely selfish reasons, nor does he plan on taking a route that will end his life. He found happiness in that costal city, made friends, was adopted into a family. They were all killed, or enslaved. However his skills warranted the first officer, when he replaced the captain, to give the youth a proposition: Drop off his friends in a human city they get most of their mercenaries from, and become a Druchii; or die knowing his friends would spend their soon to be brief existence as slaves. He dammed himself to save them. Now he seeks vengeance to give himself meaning, as the peaceful life he wanted to live was denied to him twice.
Sevril’Relik picked himself up, and tossed the young woman a rode. “Ronin feels he has no choice, at least for now. Regardless of his choice, peace would not be granted to him, nor would he be allowed such a lifestyle. However, fate often changes on the whims of the Gods, and one’s own perseverance. We’ll have to wait and see what happens when his destiny plays out. Regardless, I will serve him loyally, and I think he’ll have my back. It is enough for me, and should be enough for you.”
The woman was silent for a few moments. She didn’t know what to say. Other than being uncomfortably close, and heal her internal damage, the assassin did nothing to her. “Why?” She asked at long last.
“Who knows. I don’t envy him, that’s for sure.”
“No, why didn't you…”
“Like Ronin, I have standards.”
“Standards? Don’t make me laugh.” said a cold, now familiar voice.
“Hello Khell’Aithian. You’re missing your sword.” commented the assassin, never needing to turn around.
“How could you tell…”
“It was garlic night yesterday. I can still smell it on your breath. Plus your steps seem lighter than usual.”
“If you knew I was here, why keep your back to me?”
“Arhedel has a crossbow and is good with it. You could have cooked an egg in the time she had that thing pointed at your crotch.
Khel’Aithian took note of the wood elf that had come out of the shadows. If the Executioner didn’t know any better, he would have thought she had been trained by the temple’s order of assassins. “I see. Well, I’m here to tell you your vessel will arrive soon. I am also here to tell you that I have been approved to be the new apprentice under captain Tullaris.”
“That’s great, but Draichnya Na Khaine are not messengers.” interrupted Ronin, his fingers holding on to his sword as if it was a lover’s hand. “Besides, I’m the one you have an issue with.”
“Is it that obvious, Asur?”
The mocking tone in Khel’Aithian’s voice was only inciting Ronan to rage, but he was collected enough to know that was what he wanted. “Too obvious. Your body language, tone of voice is telling enough. You’re not even trying to hide it.”
“Did the assassin teach you that?”
“No. I worked in a pub for forty-five years. The couple that took me in owned a tavern, and I helped out where I could. You learn a lot from drunken mercenaries.”
Khell’Aithian hid an amused grin under his mask’s Macomb grimace. As usual, his golden skull shaped helm was in pristine condition. “Well, you are correct in your assumption. You are the one I want. Because of you, my apprenticeship under Tullarise had been postponed. Because a son of a weak blooded kin learned our secrets. I will be watching your progress, for I will be your doom. Either when you have proven yourself, or you fail to prove your worth, I will be waiting.”
Ronin shook his head in disgust. “Why wait? I’m right here. None of the others will stop you: I forbid it.” No one knew what to make of what Ronin and Khel’Aithian were saying. “I said if he wishes to fight me now, this is his only chance, with no interference.” The others lowered their weapons, but still kept them on the ready.
“You were given to the Temple of Khaine to train, and thus until it is time for you to lead our armies, you are under his protection. I cannot deviate from his will, even with my doubts.”
Ronin sheathed his blade. “Then I will meet you on the field of honor some other day. Your message has been received, leave us.”
Khel’Aithian grudgingly did so. Had it not been for the orders given to him by Tullaris himself, there would have been no power that would have stopped him from butchering the stripling. At least he didn’t have long to wait. In the centuries an elf lives, a mere nine years is means nothing but a season to him.
Cursing under his breath, Ronin smashed his fist into the table the hour glass was on. “Everyone, prepare to leave. Wash, pray, and pack until it is time to leave. It appears we are no longer welcomed in this cursed place.”
Within the hour Ronin was bathed, dried, and dressed for war. Everything he owned that did not have a heartbeat was on him or in his stuff sack over his shoulder. Arhedel, Sulfura, Sevril’Relik, Sorbeck were the same way, only having a few cloths and their weapons to their name. However, a former priestess of Aritha, and a potent sorceress had much to move. That said, that’s what sorcery also came in handy, as well as a cart pulled by the minotaur.
Within the hour they were at the front gates of the castle, waiting for the return of Tullaris. He had left earlier that day to inspect the new recruits. Ronin had to wait another hour after arriving at the gate before the one in charge of him would arrive.
“I’ve been waiting.” was all Ronin said.
Tullaris examined the youth and his retinue. “I see you are ready to leave.”
“We had received a message that a ship had arrived for us to our next destination. We thought it best to pack up and say our goodbyes.”
“Well, it’s interesting training you. Try not to slit your own throat. You have a tendency to speak your mind.” With that he left.
A group of Draichnya na Khaine soon left the main tower and made their way towards Ronin. “We have our orders. We will be accompanying you until we get to the vessel. Is that understood?”
“As you will. Lead the way, commander.” Was all Ronin could say. There was no use arguing with an elf with a naked long sword.
As the group made their way towards the docks, Ronin couldn’t help but notice the city was deathly quiet. Over the past year, Ronin had plenty of opportunities to see the city, and there was hardly a day servants were bargaining with the merchants, or a duel or fifteen would go on between rivals. Yet not even the crows, which seemed to be as common in this city as rats in a sewer, seem to be around. Something was wrong. Ronin went ever so slowly for his blade, but Relik grasped his hand around Ronin’s wrist like a python around its prey.
“Carful now. We are being watched. Khel’Athian is not the only one who sees you as a threat to his power. Just keep calm, and use your bride’s dresser as a shield if needs be.”
“Try it and I’ll make myself a widow.” growled the dresser’s owner.
“Never mind, I’m sure…”
“Not the lamp stand, the shelves, or the silverware.”
“You do realize you just...get your weapons guys.”
Ronin, grumbling, pulled his sword free. He whistled to Sorbeck and the beastman tossed him his shield. Selexa pulled out her daggers, while Arhedel turned the safety off her repeater crossbow. Sulfura, cautious about what enchantments she could cast, simply grasped her staff tightly. The Executioners prepared their weapons as well, waiting for their foe to show themselves.
Slowly but surely, their foe stepped out of the shadows likes a wraith. “Féroun’Skýmnos of House Ascendo’Tuum?” he called out. It all range out clearly to the stripling.
“Here I am.” called out Ronin. “I am the son of a Druchii of House Ascendo’Tuum. What do you want?”
“Tullaris found out why your father deserted his people, but it was intercepted by me months ago. I waited, bided my time for the day to finish this, hoping Tullaris or trials would finish you off. But alas, you seem to have the luck of the Gods with you.”
“Spill it out, what do you want? I’m a busy man, and I have no time to waste.” yelled Ronin.
“Your family was once one of great prestige, one of great power. However it had over the century slowly began losing that favor. So much so that many a rival joined together to see it whipped out from the face of the world. After three bloody days of battle, all but the few that had joined the temple as assassins or Witch Elves, had been accepted into the schools of magic, or were out trying to win back their favor were slaughtered. The laws of blood feud were called, so the Witch King nor his beloved Drachau could stop this battle, not that they would want to.
“Assassins like myself hunted down the others, slitting throats, and stabbing backs. Those we could not killed by our hands were simply sent off suicide missions where one of us would cripple them, allowing the enemy to take them down. When the land was cleansed of your family, we went to Ulthuane where many were on raids, and did likewise with the rest of your relatives. Only a few, mostly those lead by your father, learned of what was happening, and in a fierce battle, feigned death, and hid amongst the dead. He and any survivors he could find Cockatrice infested woods, so we left them to their fate.
“And now that just leaves you. Be honored for no one has ever given me this much trouble tracking…” Arhedel shot him in-between the eyes, shutting him up. Before he was on the ground three dozen other shadows came to life, revealing their forms and their choice weapons.
“Let’s see here, twenty in training, twelve that appear to be on the cusp of graduation, three men that can give me a run for my money, and, by the Gods…Master…What are you doing here?” Relik, for once, was at a loss of words.
“I’m sorry Sevril’Relik, but my duty was to annihilate the boy’s family, even those distant relatives that meant nothing to the main households. We thought the last of his family was lost in a failed raid or out journeying in the wastelands of the north. Step aside so we may proceed.”
“Go to the vilest pit of the hells.”
“You’re orders are to protect the Druchii people from him should he go rouge, this knowledge will surly let him seek more vengeance…”
“My orders are to kill him until he goes traitor. As he is far from traitorous, that means I get to protect him.”
“I do not wish to lose my favored student, step aside.”
“And I do not wish to lose the only friend I have. Not again; never again.”
Without a word or sigh, the master assassin raised his right hand, signaling his men to attack. Three brought out their throwing knives and hand bows, only to be shot down by Arhedel. None that tried to get a shot off would be allowed to do so.
Fifteen of the other warriors and two of the experienced troops took their shots next, jumping down to the ground, blades bared. It was not Relik’s turn to shoot back, sending a poisoned dart into the chest of his fellow assassins. Instead of killing them instantly, they were met with agonizing pain that left them helpless as they fell ungraciously to their deaths. Those who lived had to face his wrath as he slashed, stabbed, and throat punched his way through.
More fell upon the group, pricing the hides of the Executioners through and through, but their skill was no match for the killing precision of the Masters of the Draich. They slaughtered the chosen assassins of Khaine, butchering them like any other animal. Unfortunately, their heavy armor and large axes and swords were too cumbersome to fight the swifter foes. Even with their skills, all assassins of Khaine when they are deemed worthy to leave the training grounds were a force to be reckon with. Within moments they were all dead. But their lives would not be in vain. No seasoned Executioner worth his weight in silver would go down without taking some of these upstarts with them, and fifteen would serve their God as sacrifices on the battlefield.
This however still left one more of the new comers, the seasoned veterans, and the grand master. Three of the more senior assassins charged the minotaur, knowing their speed would be enough to outpace him. However, he was wise and his hide thick. Their normal approach to a quick kill was useless on something five times the size of a man, and a patron of Nurgle, there poisons were for naught. With one swift blow from his sword, Sorbeck fought back. The assassins missed the blade, but not the horns the bull followed up with.
“I ask myself sometimes why two horns, then situations like this come about.” He declared, swinging the two corpses off his prized weapons of choice. The third leapt on the beasts back, stabbing jabbing his dagger in and out of the beastman’s neck. As the blood flew out with each stroke, Sorbeck ripped this new pest off, and shoved his head into the wall next to him. One bloody smear down, a few more to go.
This was all Ronin needed to deal with. He knew his shield would be a hindrance at this point, so he simply tossed at them as they fell. Even with their skills, flying was not something elves were meant to do without aid, and a shield being thrown into one’s crotch didn’t help. With a swift strike from his sword, the assassin was no more, leaving just two more to deal with.
One of them charged Arhedel, knocking her to her back. As Ronin went to rescue her, the second stepped n his way, and pulled out a pair of Kitars. Ronin simply shook his head and tossed his sword. The second assassin simply stepped out of the way, while the other simply backed up into Sulfura.
“I remember you. Care to for another caress?” as she said this, a one hand caressed the assassin’s face, while another caressed it’s way in-between two disks of his spine.
With the foe dealt with, Ronin simply moved to an unarmed stance. “Come and get me. I am the foe you seek. Or, are you afraid?” The assassin took the challenge, and rushed in. As he was about to lunge inn for the kill, he kicked an Executioner’s helm at Ronin. On instinct Ronin caught it, but it the distraction was all the killer needed to breach the gap to his prey.
The assailant placed the point of a dagger under the stripling’s neck, making sure he knew his fate was in his hands. “Dirty trick, I know, but all’s fair…ugh.”
With little effort, Ronin pushed the would-be killer away. With further insult to injury, he lifted up his left gauntlet, and with a single strong whack knocked all the blood of the sword hidden within it. “Love and war.”
Clang. Ronin turned around, seeing master and student lock blades just a few steps behind him.
“All of your warriors are dead.”
“You didn’t kill all of them.”
“No, the minotaur killed a couple, the slave girls killed a few more, the target killed a couple, and I killed a whole lot. Oh, and the Bride seems to have had a vile of sleeping powder. It’s amazing how much your prized students sleep on the job.”
The master turned to look and saw the remaining six assassin’s asleep, and having their throats slit by Selexa. “Mongrel, I should have known you would be trouble.”
“You did. All the pranks I pulled; that Tuluk I became close friends with, and helped her find greener pastures; the exploding goat incident; the mission that the temple almost placed a bounty on my head; all things you overlooked or used your influence to mitigate, father.”
“What foolishness is this now?”
“I paid a pretty penny to a sorceress I rescued six months ago. That suicide mission that the Temple thought was the only thing they could trust me on? In return for saving her, I had her show me my lineage. Apparently not only did you spend an unhealthy amount of time at the brothels, you knew you had fathered me, and a dozen other children sent to the Temples of Khaine on Death Knight. You handpicked me and two others to be your students because you knew we would be brothers. That way you would know, as we tried to kill each other to get your approval, you’d see which son was the strongest.
“And don’t think I forgave you for forcing me to watch her die!”
“Are you still angry at that? That night I saved you from your folly.”
“No, you just let me know who my enemies were!” With that Relik pushed the Master Assassin back. “This is it, old man. Let’s settle this. Ronin, Run. Who knows what else he has up his sleeve.”
“You’re coming with us.”
“I don’t think I can beat him, but I can slow him down. Go, your survival is more important. Besides, you’re not the only one seeking vengeance.”
“See you on the boat then.” Ronin understood what his brother in arms had to do, and ordered his followers to flee.”
“Are you just going to leave him, Ronin?” Demanded Arhedel.
“I trust Relik knows what he is doing. Besides, he has his own daemons to face as well. Let him exercise this one.” Before Arhedel could argue more, Ronin sent a fist into her gut, and carried her over his shoulders. “I’m sorry, but this is not up to discussion. And Relik, I better see you on the boat!” Ronin needed no further commands to convince the others to rush to the dockyards.
“This is a waste of time, Relik. You know how this will end.”
“Quit talking.” Relik brought out his favored weapon, with the sickle in one hand, and swinging the ball and chain with the other.
“That toy? Too flashy. What you need is this!”
The grand masters struck first thrusting dagger underneath Relik’s ribs from three sword length’s away. It was one of his bottom ribs. It missed most of his organs, and with only some significant damage to the liver, one of the hardiest organs of any creature. That said having a blade the length of a hand go through you was never a pleasant feeling, nor were the toxins within it.
“A fresh coat of rattle snake venom, just for me? You do care.”
“It was meant for that upstart, but you will have to do.”
Relik swung the ball and chain around, keeping distance between himself and his foe. Even a master of death had to be careful around such a weapon, and one foolish move could spell disaster. The master sent another dagger at Relik who dodged it with ease. Three more daggers were thrown in succession only for their target to avoid their deadly aim. However, the master noticed each stepped was progressively more labored than the last. It was only ever so slightly, well out of the senses of most beings, but not to one of the truly favored of the Bloody Handed God. Relik’s breathing was also becoming harsher, much raspier than usual. This was not from the exertion of his movements, nor was it from any damage of the knife but the toxins forming from it, destroying his body from within.
Before long Relik was on one knee, his grasp of his weapon loosening. The attacks were just too grave for him to cope, something he had always expected. Weakly, he flung the ball and chain at his master, but he simply stepped aside. By the time the ball had made its last thud on the ground, the master assassin was upon Relik.
With a single thrust, Sevril’Relik was hoisted into the air with only one hand on his throat. A loud thud and a weak cry of pain emanated throughout the empty city street as Relik was shoved into the masonry. His master leisurely took out his blade, letting the stinging sensation permeate his student’s body for as long as he could.
“I am truly sorry that it had to come to this. I too was once as carefree as you, but I beat that side of me into submission, and I hoped you would someday as well. It is a shame it could not be that way.” The master flipped his dagger downwards. With all the strength he could muster the master assassin brought his dagger down upon his student’s chest.
Or he would have if Relik didn’t shove his sickle upwards; cutting deep into his master’s armored wrists. With death narrowly averted, Relik followed this up with a quick but powerful head butt. Just as the veteran killer retrieved his bearings, Relik brought his sickle down upon his master’s head, impaling his brains with enough force to break his skull in half.
“All things considering, I rather like being me.” As Relik said this, he tossed a small vile of liquid onto his open wound. Smoke and bobbling puss emanated from the wound on contact, sealing it up as if nothing had happened. “Note to self: I still need to work on my immunity to my venoms.”
With all his strength focused on fighting the toxins festering inside him, Relik could do nothing but slide down the wall beside him. He wondered what was becoming of his compatriots. Annihilation a rival family was rare but not unheard of, but most blood feuds were kept in the shadows to keep from spilling over and causing untold chaos on the city streets. It was one thing to live for war not much else; it was another thing to reduce a sizable portion of the Witch King’s armies into chunks of dead corpses. So manipulation, bargains, a few marriages with greater powers, and the ever so popular option of hiring an assassin were used often.
However, this was slow and tedious, and all involved parties would use this to their advantage. A faster approach was to take all available lesser houses and your allies together, with an odd number in the several dozens of spell casters and hundreds of the temple of Khaine’s favored foot soldiers to butcher the enemy. A full scale war with hundreds of banners, thousands of infantry and cavalry, and hundreds of wizards, war machines, and other beasts of war going at each other would see that one side or the other desolated.
If one side, over the conflict, was demolished, the survivors would often be enslaved to make a small fortune, or to ensure there would be no retribution from the survivors, the complete and total genocide of the family. To ensure this, the most experienced assassins would be dispatched to track down and eliminate the remaining members of that house down. If that member of the family was out on a raid, he was killed using the natives’ favored tactics. If the family member was sent to one of the northern patrol towers near the wastelands, the assassin would simply need to stir up a local orc or human tribe and have them take care of the mess.
After that, only a few individuals would go past those towers, into the north county, namely those with a fanatical loyalty to certain warlords or individuals in the cult of Khaine, or those with the skills needed to track them and were particularly suicidal would make this journey. After all, it even the most insane berserker the cult of Khaine uses knows this was where the winds of magic were at their strongest, and so were the abominations they created. But that was only if the target was deemed worthy enough. If the risks outweighed the reward, then the prey was let go until they reared their heads in civilized lands.
Relik wondered which of the great households had done this, for it would have to be one of the most influential households. The last time something like this occurred, it was rumored that a hundred graduate fully fledged assassins, a master and his three most trusted students, three dozen students who had been deemed worthy enough to do field work were hired for such a job. A job requiring a master’s touch would be enough to build quarter of a temple, but the combined coast of all the other killers would take care of another quarter. Such vast quantities of wealth in coin, jewel, service, and sacrificial slaves would be monumental; and no small feat.
Than a thought appeared in Sevril’Relik’s mind that made him curse in every tongue he knew. They had killed the master, over a dozen that passed every challenge their masters gave them, and large number of initiates. Even given that a few may have been killed elsewhere, there were still dozens of killers on the prowl.
And who knows what else would be in store for the stripling. There was no chance for him to survive this, but give Ronin’s luck, there may be a reason to have a contingency plan.
While Relik limped towards the docks, Ronin felt he was being watched. “We’re still being followed.”
“No kidding, now put me down!” growled Arhedel, hitting Ronin with what hand wasn’t holding her prized crossbow. A crack of a shoe on the cobblestones behind the group caught her attention, as did the rustling of sheathed swords and daggers. “On second thought, keep running.”
“Great, who’s after us now?” demanded Sulfura.
“Who else runs really fast, has pale skin, and dons black cloaks in broad daylight?”
“Off duty assassins?” said Ronin half heartedly.
“Or ones that think they have their prey.” interrupted Selexa. “If they think you are cornered, then they do not have to work as hard.”
“And how do they have us cornered? There is nothing but, oh.” The group stopped as Ronin caught himself. A wall of spears blocked the direct path to the docks. Ronin looked over to the right, and the path that lay there, but it was one that took an indirect rout to the dockyards, leaving the group plenty of time to be ambushed. Speaking of which, the dozen assassins behind them slowed their movements to a leisurely stole.
“I wonder? The right incantation can send most of them running to the abyss, and the rest screaming like little children.” cued Selexa, tapping a finger on her staff.
“And that would be what they would want.” Ronin replied gravely. His bride protested, but he simply shook his head. “Think about it. It’s been over half a century since their orders were given, and only I remain to uphold the name my Father had given me. Why would they waste such time on the likes of me? Especially when a greater prize, a rouge sorceress of a rival cult would offer them a much more rewarding prize.”
“Except that if you truly are an Ascendo’Tuum, than you are the true target.”
“It would be nice to know why they want me dead.”
“It would be nice if you let me down?” Arhedel was still hitting Ronin in the back. No sooner she was on the ground, the armature killers chasing after them were on their way to the underworld.
The wall of spears crept forward, inching their phalanxes ever closer to Ronin and his compatriots. Selxa placed a hand on her betroths head, and sent a surge of pure magic through his veins. Within moments, he saw everything he needed to know. Now all he had to worry about is if his brain would explode from that surge of power.
Ronin doubled over, pin wracking every fiber of his being. Before long, he was on his knees, tears of blood raining from his eyes. The final touch was a spray of vomit from his lips.
“Next time, just tell me my old man used to be a hair of a great military dynasty.”
“Not just a great, one, but one of the ruling houses of Clar Karond in the south. If someone needed to a military mind, they went to that house. The rest of the rumors we’ve been hearing about how they fell from grace should be…”
Another spew and Ronin was up to date. The leader of the house, a lecherous old man, had a number of affairs. He had a long affair with a rival’s wife until he started keeping an unhealthy eye on the lord’s beautiful daughter. Another was with a High Sorceress from the city of Ghround, whose influence could call upon three legions to her aid. However, the other great affair was that of a High Priestess of the Ereth Khial. However, it was said that there were hundreds of others, all of various positions of power, and it didn’t take long before his three most powerful lovers grew tired of this. All they had to do was bide their time for the right moment to enact their vengeance. As expected, it was a short wait.
Apparently spending one’s time in the bed chambers of a captured high elf princess when he should have been defending the captured fortress city instead was that moment. It was during the last major invasion, and it would be this lapse in judgment that would return the city back the Asur’s hands, and spell the beginning off the end of that war. The various lost battles since then only added insult to injury to the family. To ensure future generations of this family learned their lesson, all the ruling members were sent to various alters of the Gods of the Underworld, their blood being the price for penance.
Over the centuries, it only took the decedents from the women scorn to capitalize on subsequent failures, many they had a hand in sabotaging. When the Ascendo’Tuum family name, and its old glory, was in decline it was time to act. Waiting for most of the wiser and stronger warriors and warlords to be off on raiding missions, there were only the bare minimum of guards remaining at the citadel these nobles called home. The rival family, with years of political influence and alliances sealed with marriages, gave the Ascendo’Tuum’s enemies man power. The Coven of the Icy fortress city of Ghround brought the fire power needed to open up the front gates, and let them destroy any outer defenses they may have had. As for the Priestess of Ereth Khail, her follower never forgot her shame, nor would they let her lover’s seed forget it either. The ruler of the underworld was the second most powerful deity of the elvin pantheon, and threats from her clerics were nothing to be scoffed at, and so half the guard fought alongside their bitter enemies.
To ensure Malekith would stay out, the laws of Blood Feud was used, when the new head of the family savagely beat their greatest rival’s eldest daughter half to death. It was claimed as an accident, but she showed much potential as one of the Witch King’s sorceresses, and the loss of even one in such a foolish manner was not something he would overlook. So he ignored the coming battle.
Both sides fought like dragons, but only one would rise above the other. When the last of the kin of the man Ronin called father was cut down, the war was over. The family was in ruins, its remaining sons and daughters would have no influence or ability to command armies, thus no longer any threat. However, it appeared this was not enough.
As Ronin returned to his senses, he remembered what that assassin that first called Ronin by his family name. This not just ensuring a rival was no longer a threat, this was genocide: the deliberate and systematic eradication of his kin. Ronin had seen and endured the foulness of this people enough to learn to live within it with some sense of ease, but this was more than he was willing to bare. Moreover, any one that wanted to kill his father had to pay for such desires.
“Spearmen, what house do you hail from?” Ronin called.
“None that want you alive, spawn of a dead man.”
“Well, if you see your masters, tell them if they want me than they need to show themselves. Oh no!” With the rest of last night’s dinner out of his system, Ronin was ready to fight. At least he would be if his hands were not shaking like a branch in a storm.
“We need to keep going forward to the boat.”
“Ronin, Relik is back there still, and we have phalanx of spearmen in front of us.”
Before Ronin could respond, Sorbeck cracked his knuckles. “The assassin will think of something. As for me, I got the spearmen. Now, if you excuse me, I need to work off those Goblins I had this morning.” With that, he charged recklessly into the spearmen, sending many of them flying back and into their compatriots’ weapons.
“Oh for crying out loud! Is everyone going to be a martyr for me?” It took everything for the women surrounding Ronin to hold him back.
“You are not fighting in this condition!” demanded Selexa. “I am not marrying a corps, so let him fight this battle for you.
“He’s being pushed back, look.”
As Ronin said, despite the initial dent in the enemy forces, they had managed to push the minotaur back several passes, though he was not in the business of giving up any time soon.
“Well then, I have a couple of friends that might help.” With a wicked grin, Selexa popped open a pair of pink bottles. As she did this, a pair of sparks shot out of the openings, fluttering around with glee. “Ok girls, I need you to make sure no one is spying on us, and I need you to bring the assassin Sevril’Relik here. Understood girls?” The two sparks flew off in separate directions as fast as they appeared. “Pixies. They will do anything for a quick laugh.”
Explosions filled the air as the screams of men torn asunder range a chorus throughout. On occasion, the head of an elf with the rune of the Bloody Handed God would plop onto the ground; their faces contorted into a surprised grimace. The thunder of a mischievous pixy continued on, but it slowly grew fainter, as if it was moving away. Then, another sound plopped nearby, and with it the neighing of a horse, and a grumbling of an old friend. A few moments later, both pixies returned to their bottles.
“Well, that should take care of a few problems. Can I use magic now that any assassin within three miles has turned to chum?”
“What in the Black pit is going on? demanded the assassin, falling off his dark steed.
Ronin on the other hand had his own inquirers “I want to know how you survived that, and where did you got that horse?”
“Some dark riders were out patrolling for us, and I ended up giving them another path to take. So, a little enchantment on the horse, and I was off.”
“Assassins use magic?”
“Simple charms, nothing too threatening. Although, this boy is about to break free of it.”
“Can you send it charging into the spearmen?”
“I can, but why?”
“That’s why!” Ronin pointed at the spearmen. No matter how many Sorbeck killed, they just kept moving forward, moving him back. This was more than he could handle. But nothing a soul draining spell couldn’t handle. Selexa stretched her hand forward, grasping their life essence as if it was as tangible as she was. She quickly brought her hand back, adding their lives to hers. Another blast of that frighteningly powerful spell, and she removed the wounds covering Sevril’Relik, Ronin, and Sorbeck, and covered it upon their foes. Ronin, Relik, and Sorbeck felt refreshed, as if the Ronin had never absorbed too much magic, or Relik and Sorbeck enemy steel.
“Relik, care to teach these armatures who they are dealing with?” asked Ronin
“I do believe we shall.” As they prepared to make their charge, Sulfura made her own advance. “Are you sure you want to join us? These guys look tough?”
“If what you say is true about Ronin, then I want to have a part in keeping him alive.”
“Well, the other girls had their fun, no reason she can’t Relik.” said Ronin with a hint of glee. “Come, let us offer sacrifices to the Lord of Murder!
With guttural cries of war, they threw themselves into the enemy, while spells and bolts whizzed into any warrior trying to get at the flanks of Ronin’s followers. They wasted no time reducing the enemy down to size, slaughtering all who came before them. However, even with their skills they could not do this for long. Arhedel had only so many bolts, and Selexa only so many spells that could harm the enemy without killing her comrades. Moreover, they were not immune to taking wounds themselves.
By the time they were done butchering the spearmen, Ronin had to use his simple healing spell on himself, and his followers. By the time he had mended their bodies enough for travel, the clamor of dozens of warriors could echo down the streets before them.
“How many people do I have to kill to not be killed myself this day?” growled Ronin.
“If my pixies are rested enough, maybe not too many.”Selexa brought out one of her pixy bottles, and let out the sprite within. “Lead us to the docks through the safest paths we can take.”
The sprite zoomed to the pathway before them, and they followed. As expected, spearmen and assassins assailed them from every way, but Ronin and Relik’s skills with the throwing knives were enough to deal with all but the most persistent of foes. For those warriors, the sword and dagger were the weapons of choice. By the time the group had reached the noble’s quarter, the pixy grew tired and it was time to return to her bottle. At least the docks were not too far from here.
“How many assassins did we kill again? I lost count at thirty five!” asked Arhedel as she shoved her bayoneted crossbow into a foe’s chest.
“I think about sixty so far, with more to come!” With Relik’s final two knives, he dropped another student assassin. “I can’t believe how fool hardy these idiots are! I would never leave myself open for attack. Not like this!” As he said that his imaged blurred out of sight. He was only gone a moment or two, but it was long enough to leave two fresh corpses at his feet.
“We can discuss their methodology later. Right now, I like staying al…Whoa!” Ronin just stepped just a quarter of a dagger’s length close to the edge of a steep incline. It was almost like staring down a cliff face. However, what worried him was what looked like thirteen assassins and thirty odd hired thugs hiking up the hill to greet them.
“I’m open to ideas.”
That instant, Sorbeck tossed began tossing the elves into the cart. With one hoof on the back of the cart, and another on the ground, he kept it teetering ever so precariously over the edge. It didn’t take long for the elves to realize what was going to happen. Within a moment Ronin and Relik commended their spirits to the gods and the ride of their lives had commences.
The heavy cart could do nothing but gain momentum as it rolled down hill. The farther it went the faster it flew down the slope, and the more Relik and Ronin cried for their mothers. If sound of such an event didn’t grab one’s attention, the fact it would soon run you down would. Those with the speed and grace to get out of the way did as the cart continued to grow faster and faster. However one needed the speed of an assassin to do such a feat, and not even they could get out of the way without an extra bit of dumb luck. In the end, the only one who truly enjoyed this was Sorbeck who never stopped howling with joy.
And then they hit flat ground, their speed still going unchecked and now even unstoppable. At least until they came to another hill. The sight of such an obstacle did little to comfort the elves, only confirming they were going to die in a way horribly. At least it wouldn’t be at the hands of their enemies. The elves braced for impact, never daring to look.
Moments passed, and they waited until the end. It would be the squawking of a crow that would bring them out of their fear induced stupor long enough to see what was going on.
“Hay, it’s pretty peaceful. Are we dead? Is this the afterlife?” asked Arhedel.
“No.” wept Sevril’Relik. “We’re not.”
“If we’re not dead why are you crying?”
Relik’s only response was pointing down. When the other elves saw what caused the assassin’s lamentation, they understood completely. That last hill had sent them air born, and what comes up must come down. Screams of terror filled the air, the brave soldiers unable to cope with fate that was out of their control. And then nothing happened. After a few not so silent moments, the well understandably shaken elves looked down. They still continued their dissent, but now it was done at a safer rate. As they hovered softly to the ground, they realize crashing to their death would have been a much merciful fate. Any remaining mercenaries and assassins that had not been killed already, sharpened their blades, and patted their maces and cudgels in their hands.
They waited, even long after Ronin and his compatriots left the cart, for a moment to strike. However, Ronin could not see why they were taking their sweet time. After all, they had been running for their lives throughout a fairy large city, fighting all the way. Their blades needed a good sharpening, and they were out of throwing knives. Even Arhedel, who always kept a few extra quivers of bolts, was running low. To make matters worth, Selexa didn’t have a spell that could whip out all of these fighters and rouges and be sure not one would rat her out for a larger prophet. Even her pixies had not recovered enough for this.
Ronin let out an impressed whistle. “There has to be over a fifty hired thugs here, and forty or fifty assassins. Not bad.”
“I know, we had a whole battalion cover the city in a new shade of red?” joked Relik
“Sorry to disappoint, but not quite that many.” said a cold, otherworldly voice. The hired swords parted to make a path for a cloaked figure, one that emanated an aura of fear like a strong odor. “However, it seems my warriors have been over paid for their capabilities.”
“Are you the one that ordered my family’s extermination?” demanded Ronin, his sword in hand.
The figure stretched forth its slender hand and with a force of will slammed Ronin into the cart. “It seems your blood is purely Asur; it seems we attacked you for naught.”
“It seems you are half right.” coughed Ronin, blood seeping out from between his lips. “Show me your face, or are you afraid I’m going to tell on someone?”
The figure did so, and her radiant face, with is regal strong features, shown through. “Do you know who I am?” she asked, her voice still giving the feeling of something otherworld.
“No, but I am guessing you are the high sorceress that was seduced my father’s ancestor?”
“Seduced is an appropriate word. I thought the power he wielded would be enough to bolster that of my own. However he was a weakling, unable to control his lusts, something I can see you having a problem with as well.”
“I respect the women I love, that man that took advantage of you and the others he bedded was a swine, and deserved to die as such. However, what I want to know was why he was a worthy enough of an excuse to kill off an entire clan?”
“Simple: prophets. His seed tended to be just as vile as he, the wealth they had acquired would be enough to ensure the rise of myself, and my temporary allies in that venture to prominence equal to a Drachau.”
“So greed was the answer. Hmm, if that’s the case why spend the money on tracking the rest of us down?”
“Because I was the only one who would be worth attacking in retribution. The priestess that had allied with me had given her life so your father’s ancestor would fail miserably, and the other was simply happy to harass and keep down a weakened clan.
“So what in the abyss gave you permission to singlehandedly reduce my kin to ash?”
“Why should I tell you, little boy?”
Ronin shrugged his shoulders. “No reason, but by attacking me, and nearly killing my associates in the process, you opened a blood feud with me.”
“Are saying you would kill me?”
“You let flood gates open, and I just earned the protection and respect of the Sacred Slaughterer. Given a few years, I could even earn the allies and the wealth to take you down. Are you truly going to give me that chance?”
“I guess not. I was going to spar you a little longer, but my time is precious. Say good…” Ronin ended the Supreme Sorceress’ speech a well aimed scimitar flying into her face.
The shock and surprise from such a maneuver stayed on her face as her Dhur, her black magic ripped itself from her being. It seemed the openings of on her face was not enough to release the dark magic that had swelled inside her, and so it began tearing open more throughout her body. The black bolts lashed out at any nearby, going so far as to chase down even the swiftest of fighters. Once it ensnared its prey, it’s reduced its victims to ash.
Then, as quickly as it began, it was over. The ancient crone’s true age slowly but surely began to make itself appearance. Lines, creases, and cracks left a patch work across her face. The final straw was a gentle guest of wind. It was all that was needed for her to crumble into nothing.
In the end only Ronin, his comrades, and a few dozen sell swords remained. It was a horrific sight, but her own dark desires seemed to be what consumed her at long last. Now they just had to deal with the remaining warriors.
A whizzing sound zipped through the air, followed by the plop of a dead assassin. This was followed by another wiz and another corps, and another and another. By the tenth foe with an arrow or bolt in through their heart, the howls of war hounds roared to life as packs of these vicious beasts lunged at the remaining mercenaries. Any sell sword that remained now had to deal a shrieking terror of the foulest kind: harpies. They swooped down, overpowering even the most powerful of assassins with sheer numbers. When they had even liked the marrow clean from the remains of their victims, the beasts turned hungrily towards the only remaining food: 1 minotaur and a handful of elves.
“Enough!” Commanded a rough voice, with the snap of a finger. Like passive children, the animals gave a wide wake to their master, a strong elf with a patchwork of scars on his exposed chest. His only weapons was a long, well worn glaive, and a charming smile.
“I see my pets took care of the rest of the miscreants. I am Trux Pack Leader of the Krwalkus clan. Of all beastmaster clans, it is ours that ranks among the greatest of warlords. We also hold the honor of being an ancestral rival of yours.”
“Than why help us, Trux? I thought Druchii delighted in the destruction of an enemy?” scoffed Ronin. “Not that I’m ungrateful for not having a small forest worth of hungry animals not tearing us apart.”
“Yes, well, pretty much of the greater houses of the time saw it fit to wage a secret war with you, it was mostly because the Master of the House’s wife had a few conquests of her own, on the battlefield and otherwise, and well, she added your ancestor to the list multiple times. The fact a fierce rival was wooing her was more than my ancestor could bear, nor would it be one he would have to for long. We get stuck with a blood pack to bring you down to a manageable level, which we did, so our end of the bargain was done with. She just called in a few favors with our other rivals, something that would just not do for future relations. Especially how callus she is towards our city. Never a good thing to insult the great City of Karond Karr, nor is it to bring up old grudges that serve no purpose than to further one’s ego. As for your kin, you were always a good marker to see how well the raids were going.”
“So genocide was not on the order of the day?”
“Why, when we made more money off your clan’s efforts? We were even going to propose an alliance sealed with a marriage or two to ensure the wealth would keep on flowing?”
It was amazing to Ronin. The great love of the Druchii was the act of killing. Up until now, he thought the only other conquest a Druchii would even dare say they enjoyed would have been in the bed chamber. Now the real truth came out: Druchii were greedy, and the love of silver was greater than all else. Butchery was just a way to get to it. Only in the Har Ganeth, the city of the Executioners, did the acts of slaughter outweigh all other pleasures.
“Now come,” commanded Trux. “The captain of the Executioners has given you to the Kewalkus clan. Your studies beguine when you dock in Karond Karr, where you will learn from the Vaulkar of that great city. His name is Felkir Krwalkus, and he is a master breeder of both hydras and dark steeds. When you have learned all you can from him, we will see where your fate is.”
“Why does it seem that because I am of Asur birth, people must assume I am a fool?”
“It’s an interesting question. Wish I had an answer.”
“I have spent a year in the depths of hell, with my only retrieve being my friends here. I have been beaten, scourged, threatened, attacked by assassins and daemons, and just a few breaths ago, attacked the woman responsible for seeking the life of my father. Forgive me for not trusting you.”
Trux simply smiled. “All is forgiven, as trust is a commodity not common in these parts. So there is no need to apologize.” A blink of Ronin’s eyes, and the beastmaster was now standing back to back to Ronin, his prized glaive under the stripling’s jaw. Where Trux once stood, was Sevril’Relik, bewildered, but otherwise unharmed. “All things considered, as a Shadow Caster, one who has some understanding of the winds of Ulgu, I could make your death look like an accident if I wanted to.
“However, now that you see me doing what I do best, I think you can trust me. After all, a shadow caster of my level would be a pretty coin in your purse. But then again, I could say the same thing about your bride. I can smell the Dhur on her.”
“I get it: we each have something that we can blackmail each other with. Something that we could cause great harm to one another, like two duelists with daggers under their rival’s throat. This is also too good to be true, but I’ll take what I can get.” said Ronin reluctantly.
“Glad you see it my way. Now if you don’t mind, we have a leviathan to board.”
“That a class of ship.”
“Eh, no. It’s a thirty four sword length long sea creature with a pleasant disposition until mating season or it sees a whale, at which point all bets are off.”
“I thought we were going on a ship?”
“Druchii often build vessels on the backs of large sea monsters, using the beast’s abilities to our advantage. We keep the castles low so the creatures can still move swiftly, enchanting them for lightness. That and to block out the water. Leviathans do not like being on the surface for too long.”
“Wait, we’re doing what?”
“It may be best if I showed you.” With a snap of Trux’s fingers, everyone was now standing beside the ocean in the dockyards. The air was crisp and clean, and the activities of the workers seemed to move at a casual pace. Even the guards took the time to set their spears down and cast a line into the sea. Several slaves brought up steel cages filled to the brim with crabs, and hoisted them onto carts to be taken to market.
Trux brought out a conch horn, and blew into it three times, each breath producing a loud trumpeting burst of sound. As the beastmaster expected, the ocean came alive with bubbles, the waters rising with each breath. Before too long a head breached the surface. What amazed Ronin the most was the size of the serpentine head, and the maw that came with it. So massive it didn’t take much imagination to think a dragon could be crushed by such a maw. The surprises only continued as Trux simply walked over to the edge of the dock, and beckoned the beast to come forward.
“This is Sea Stalker,” he said as he petted the Leviathan’s bottom lip. “She’s about a hundred and sixty years old, and has seen a lot of action in those years. Do not worry for she is calm, and well fed. She’ll take you to the Karond Karr with no worries.”
“I guess we’re going to get to…”
“I will stay here. My superiors have another assignment for me, here. I dare not disappoint them. Slaves, bring out the ramp!”
Two ogres pushed a large wooden ramp towards the leviathan’s head, then hurried back to their duties. There were few things that could scare an ogre, and something that could make a snack of them was one of them.
Ronin was the shrugged his shoulders, and grabbed his stuff sack from what was left of the cart. “The sooner I get out of this city, the sooner I can get a good night sleep.”
“I doubt it, I get sea sick.” groaned Sevril’Relik, as he leaned against the ramp’s railing. “Do we have to go on that thing?”
“What choices do you have, assassin? To go by land would take many months of travel, much less preparation. The use of magic is out of the question as teleportation is over great distances is often met with disaster unless one is a master of the Lore of Shadows. That is someone we do not have at the moment. As for other vessels, they are out on patrol or raiding for supplies for the oncoming war, so this is your only option.”
“If all available ships are gone, why is that thing here?”
“Leviathans prefer a slow and steady pace while pregnant unless they are hunting. Until she gives birth I am afraid she will be the only ship available. If you do not like that, how far can you tred water in kraken infested waters?”
“Kraken?”
“Yes, the favored pray of the leviathan. There have been some rouge monsters destroying the cargo ships in the area, so I was sent to deal with them. Thanks to them, she’s well fed. Also, since she is heading towards Karond Karr, it makes sense to bring you along. Now go, or I will throw you on my ship!”
Relik grumbled, but conceded to march on up the ramp. Sulfura and Sorbeck followed suit with the luggage. All that remained was Ronin and the women he loved. Ronin took one good look at the city he had lived, trained, fought, and made friends and enemies in. The scream of victims on various alters throughout the city range through Ronin’s ears, reminding him why he hated this city.
“Karond Karr will not be a pleasant place,” began Selexa, placing a hand on Ronin’s shoulder. “But it will be better than what we had before.”
“Will that be truly the case?”
Arhedel smacked Ronin in the back of the head then kissed him on the cheek. “This is Har Ganeth, of course anyplace else will be better.”
“Are all Druchii Cities this insane?”
“Only the great six.”
So lets finish this off.
The End of a Conquest
Ronin, unarmed, faced off against Selexa. Her prowess with the dark arts, though great, still had to be kept hidden as she was not a sanctioned spell caster. Had she been, she would have incurred the wrath of Malekeith who was ceremonially wedded to all the sorceresses in the Land of Chill, and he was a very jealous husband. To help keep this secret, Ronin thought it would be good to teach his bride a few defensive moves. After all in this dark land, you were a warrior, a spell weaver, a slave, a war beast, a slave, or a corps. All had their purposes to serve, but being dead had its drawbacks, and being caught using magic illegally was a surefire way of ending up as such.
With the Temple of Khaine firmly loathing magic, and few other options available to her, this left her truly defenseless. This was a state Ronin would never tolerate any lover of his to be in.
“Are you ready?” he asked. He only wore a plain tunic and tights, leaving only his martial prowess as his weapon and shield. The woman did likewise.
“I am.” responded Selexa, her mind focused on the task at hand.
“Then come.”
The woman rushed in, her fists and open palms thrusting into Ronin’s face. Ronin blocked each stroke deftly, complimenting his opponent where she succeeded and told her what her mistakes were. After two weeks of training, she was improving but still noticeably off balanced. Still, it took most warriors at least a month to not fall on their face ever few steps, and another two where they could comfortably use such moves. Two months they did not have.
When the sands of an hour glass filled a quarter of the bottom bulb, Ronin had signaled the session to end. Selexa was breathing heavy, still not used to this kind of workout. Ronin’s breathing was also getting strained, but he was used to this level of strain. Ronin knew what Selexa’s limits were, and she still needed to work on that stamina. The woman knew her limits as well, but she wanted to continue on anyways.
“Selexa, rest. Our sparing session is over.” Ronin commanded, unusually sternly.
“No man commands me like that.” growled Selexa, and she rushed towards Ronin to knock some sense into him.
The stripling, without hesitation or remorse, threw her to the ground, and pinned her there with his frame. “Remember what I taught you: do not fight when you are in a weakened state unless you have no other choice, otherwise you’re just handicapping yourself. And Selexa, use your anger, never be used by it. Otherwise you are just one of Khaine’s berserkers. Does not the Lord of Murder deserve much better?”
Ronin brought his head so it would be only a breath away from Selexa’s. She was completely defenseless. Just the way he doesn’t like his women. He kissed her once then picked himself up. Freed at last, Selexa managed to pull herself up as well. It was a good session, and Ronin hoped the lessons learned here would keep her alive.
On the other side of the room, Sevril’Relik made preparations of his own. Sulfura’s physical scars were gone, but the ones that mired her psyche were still deep chasms of woe. Ronin had largely given up on comforting her, and so did the other two she elves. Only Relik seemed to care, as strange as that sounded, and only he remained attuned to her real needs.
“How did you enjoy Ronin’s teaching methods?” Sevril’Relik asked her. He traced his naked finger across her bare back, a green trail of energy following a few inches behind it. The therapeutic touch seemed to be helping her.
“It’s interesting. He doesn’t have the heart of a killer though.”
“He’s stupid, but he can and will kill. He just doesn’t find any enjoyment in it.”
The girl was quite. Her normal gloom had returned to her. How can someone choose this life, and not enjoy it? It didn’t make any sense.
“I know what you’re thinking Selexa. I thought it as well. What is a boy like him doing trying to become something he cannot be: A cold hearted killer!”
“Yeah.” She said in a whimper. Her pulse was increasing steadily; she knew when a man came this close it only meant one thing. It was one thing when she was enchanted; the spirit placed within her valued pleasure in all hedonistic forms. But now that she was freed of its grasp, she could only feel fear in its purest, undiluted form.
“What he wants’ is revenge. His first home was destroyed by a daemon of great power. His second home was destroyed by corsairs, and left to their mercies by an Asur prince. As the one who lead the invasion is dead, that just leaves the other two to vent his anger on.
“My gods, he is giving up on his life to take a life?”
“He’s not doing it for entirely selfish reasons, nor does he plan on taking a route that will end his life. He found happiness in that costal city, made friends, was adopted into a family. They were all killed, or enslaved. However his skills warranted the first officer, when he replaced the captain, to give the youth a proposition: Drop off his friends in a human city they get most of their mercenaries from, and become a Druchii; or die knowing his friends would spend their soon to be brief existence as slaves. He dammed himself to save them. Now he seeks vengeance to give himself meaning, as the peaceful life he wanted to live was denied to him twice.
Sevril’Relik picked himself up, and tossed the young woman a rode. “Ronin feels he has no choice, at least for now. Regardless of his choice, peace would not be granted to him, nor would he be allowed such a lifestyle. However, fate often changes on the whims of the Gods, and one’s own perseverance. We’ll have to wait and see what happens when his destiny plays out. Regardless, I will serve him loyally, and I think he’ll have my back. It is enough for me, and should be enough for you.”
The woman was silent for a few moments. She didn’t know what to say. Other than being uncomfortably close, and heal her internal damage, the assassin did nothing to her. “Why?” She asked at long last.
“Who knows. I don’t envy him, that’s for sure.”
“No, why didn't you…”
“Like Ronin, I have standards.”
“Standards? Don’t make me laugh.” said a cold, now familiar voice.
“Hello Khell’Aithian. You’re missing your sword.” commented the assassin, never needing to turn around.
“How could you tell…”
“It was garlic night yesterday. I can still smell it on your breath. Plus your steps seem lighter than usual.”
“If you knew I was here, why keep your back to me?”
“Arhedel has a crossbow and is good with it. You could have cooked an egg in the time she had that thing pointed at your crotch.
Khel’Aithian took note of the wood elf that had come out of the shadows. If the Executioner didn’t know any better, he would have thought she had been trained by the temple’s order of assassins. “I see. Well, I’m here to tell you your vessel will arrive soon. I am also here to tell you that I have been approved to be the new apprentice under captain Tullaris.”
“That’s great, but Draichnya Na Khaine are not messengers.” interrupted Ronin, his fingers holding on to his sword as if it was a lover’s hand. “Besides, I’m the one you have an issue with.”
“Is it that obvious, Asur?”
The mocking tone in Khel’Aithian’s voice was only inciting Ronan to rage, but he was collected enough to know that was what he wanted. “Too obvious. Your body language, tone of voice is telling enough. You’re not even trying to hide it.”
“Did the assassin teach you that?”
“No. I worked in a pub for forty-five years. The couple that took me in owned a tavern, and I helped out where I could. You learn a lot from drunken mercenaries.”
Khell’Aithian hid an amused grin under his mask’s Macomb grimace. As usual, his golden skull shaped helm was in pristine condition. “Well, you are correct in your assumption. You are the one I want. Because of you, my apprenticeship under Tullarise had been postponed. Because a son of a weak blooded kin learned our secrets. I will be watching your progress, for I will be your doom. Either when you have proven yourself, or you fail to prove your worth, I will be waiting.”
Ronin shook his head in disgust. “Why wait? I’m right here. None of the others will stop you: I forbid it.” No one knew what to make of what Ronin and Khel’Aithian were saying. “I said if he wishes to fight me now, this is his only chance, with no interference.” The others lowered their weapons, but still kept them on the ready.
“You were given to the Temple of Khaine to train, and thus until it is time for you to lead our armies, you are under his protection. I cannot deviate from his will, even with my doubts.”
Ronin sheathed his blade. “Then I will meet you on the field of honor some other day. Your message has been received, leave us.”
Khel’Aithian grudgingly did so. Had it not been for the orders given to him by Tullaris himself, there would have been no power that would have stopped him from butchering the stripling. At least he didn’t have long to wait. In the centuries an elf lives, a mere nine years is means nothing but a season to him.
Cursing under his breath, Ronin smashed his fist into the table the hour glass was on. “Everyone, prepare to leave. Wash, pray, and pack until it is time to leave. It appears we are no longer welcomed in this cursed place.”
Within the hour Ronin was bathed, dried, and dressed for war. Everything he owned that did not have a heartbeat was on him or in his stuff sack over his shoulder. Arhedel, Sulfura, Sevril’Relik, Sorbeck were the same way, only having a few cloths and their weapons to their name. However, a former priestess of Aritha, and a potent sorceress had much to move. That said, that’s what sorcery also came in handy, as well as a cart pulled by the minotaur.
Within the hour they were at the front gates of the castle, waiting for the return of Tullaris. He had left earlier that day to inspect the new recruits. Ronin had to wait another hour after arriving at the gate before the one in charge of him would arrive.
“I’ve been waiting.” was all Ronin said.
Tullaris examined the youth and his retinue. “I see you are ready to leave.”
“We had received a message that a ship had arrived for us to our next destination. We thought it best to pack up and say our goodbyes.”
“Well, it’s interesting training you. Try not to slit your own throat. You have a tendency to speak your mind.” With that he left.
A group of Draichnya na Khaine soon left the main tower and made their way towards Ronin. “We have our orders. We will be accompanying you until we get to the vessel. Is that understood?”
“As you will. Lead the way, commander.” Was all Ronin could say. There was no use arguing with an elf with a naked long sword.
As the group made their way towards the docks, Ronin couldn’t help but notice the city was deathly quiet. Over the past year, Ronin had plenty of opportunities to see the city, and there was hardly a day servants were bargaining with the merchants, or a duel or fifteen would go on between rivals. Yet not even the crows, which seemed to be as common in this city as rats in a sewer, seem to be around. Something was wrong. Ronin went ever so slowly for his blade, but Relik grasped his hand around Ronin’s wrist like a python around its prey.
“Carful now. We are being watched. Khel’Athian is not the only one who sees you as a threat to his power. Just keep calm, and use your bride’s dresser as a shield if needs be.”
“Try it and I’ll make myself a widow.” growled the dresser’s owner.
“Never mind, I’m sure…”
“Not the lamp stand, the shelves, or the silverware.”
“You do realize you just...get your weapons guys.”
Ronin, grumbling, pulled his sword free. He whistled to Sorbeck and the beastman tossed him his shield. Selexa pulled out her daggers, while Arhedel turned the safety off her repeater crossbow. Sulfura, cautious about what enchantments she could cast, simply grasped her staff tightly. The Executioners prepared their weapons as well, waiting for their foe to show themselves.
Slowly but surely, their foe stepped out of the shadows likes a wraith. “Féroun’Skýmnos of House Ascendo’Tuum?” he called out. It all range out clearly to the stripling.
“Here I am.” called out Ronin. “I am the son of a Druchii of House Ascendo’Tuum. What do you want?”
“Tullaris found out why your father deserted his people, but it was intercepted by me months ago. I waited, bided my time for the day to finish this, hoping Tullaris or trials would finish you off. But alas, you seem to have the luck of the Gods with you.”
“Spill it out, what do you want? I’m a busy man, and I have no time to waste.” yelled Ronin.
“Your family was once one of great prestige, one of great power. However it had over the century slowly began losing that favor. So much so that many a rival joined together to see it whipped out from the face of the world. After three bloody days of battle, all but the few that had joined the temple as assassins or Witch Elves, had been accepted into the schools of magic, or were out trying to win back their favor were slaughtered. The laws of blood feud were called, so the Witch King nor his beloved Drachau could stop this battle, not that they would want to.
“Assassins like myself hunted down the others, slitting throats, and stabbing backs. Those we could not killed by our hands were simply sent off suicide missions where one of us would cripple them, allowing the enemy to take them down. When the land was cleansed of your family, we went to Ulthuane where many were on raids, and did likewise with the rest of your relatives. Only a few, mostly those lead by your father, learned of what was happening, and in a fierce battle, feigned death, and hid amongst the dead. He and any survivors he could find Cockatrice infested woods, so we left them to their fate.
“And now that just leaves you. Be honored for no one has ever given me this much trouble tracking…” Arhedel shot him in-between the eyes, shutting him up. Before he was on the ground three dozen other shadows came to life, revealing their forms and their choice weapons.
“Let’s see here, twenty in training, twelve that appear to be on the cusp of graduation, three men that can give me a run for my money, and, by the Gods…Master…What are you doing here?” Relik, for once, was at a loss of words.
“I’m sorry Sevril’Relik, but my duty was to annihilate the boy’s family, even those distant relatives that meant nothing to the main households. We thought the last of his family was lost in a failed raid or out journeying in the wastelands of the north. Step aside so we may proceed.”
“Go to the vilest pit of the hells.”
“You’re orders are to protect the Druchii people from him should he go rouge, this knowledge will surly let him seek more vengeance…”
“My orders are to kill him until he goes traitor. As he is far from traitorous, that means I get to protect him.”
“I do not wish to lose my favored student, step aside.”
“And I do not wish to lose the only friend I have. Not again; never again.”
Without a word or sigh, the master assassin raised his right hand, signaling his men to attack. Three brought out their throwing knives and hand bows, only to be shot down by Arhedel. None that tried to get a shot off would be allowed to do so.
Fifteen of the other warriors and two of the experienced troops took their shots next, jumping down to the ground, blades bared. It was not Relik’s turn to shoot back, sending a poisoned dart into the chest of his fellow assassins. Instead of killing them instantly, they were met with agonizing pain that left them helpless as they fell ungraciously to their deaths. Those who lived had to face his wrath as he slashed, stabbed, and throat punched his way through.
More fell upon the group, pricing the hides of the Executioners through and through, but their skill was no match for the killing precision of the Masters of the Draich. They slaughtered the chosen assassins of Khaine, butchering them like any other animal. Unfortunately, their heavy armor and large axes and swords were too cumbersome to fight the swifter foes. Even with their skills, all assassins of Khaine when they are deemed worthy to leave the training grounds were a force to be reckon with. Within moments they were all dead. But their lives would not be in vain. No seasoned Executioner worth his weight in silver would go down without taking some of these upstarts with them, and fifteen would serve their God as sacrifices on the battlefield.
This however still left one more of the new comers, the seasoned veterans, and the grand master. Three of the more senior assassins charged the minotaur, knowing their speed would be enough to outpace him. However, he was wise and his hide thick. Their normal approach to a quick kill was useless on something five times the size of a man, and a patron of Nurgle, there poisons were for naught. With one swift blow from his sword, Sorbeck fought back. The assassins missed the blade, but not the horns the bull followed up with.
“I ask myself sometimes why two horns, then situations like this come about.” He declared, swinging the two corpses off his prized weapons of choice. The third leapt on the beasts back, stabbing jabbing his dagger in and out of the beastman’s neck. As the blood flew out with each stroke, Sorbeck ripped this new pest off, and shoved his head into the wall next to him. One bloody smear down, a few more to go.
This was all Ronin needed to deal with. He knew his shield would be a hindrance at this point, so he simply tossed at them as they fell. Even with their skills, flying was not something elves were meant to do without aid, and a shield being thrown into one’s crotch didn’t help. With a swift strike from his sword, the assassin was no more, leaving just two more to deal with.
One of them charged Arhedel, knocking her to her back. As Ronin went to rescue her, the second stepped n his way, and pulled out a pair of Kitars. Ronin simply shook his head and tossed his sword. The second assassin simply stepped out of the way, while the other simply backed up into Sulfura.
“I remember you. Care to for another caress?” as she said this, a one hand caressed the assassin’s face, while another caressed it’s way in-between two disks of his spine.
With the foe dealt with, Ronin simply moved to an unarmed stance. “Come and get me. I am the foe you seek. Or, are you afraid?” The assassin took the challenge, and rushed in. As he was about to lunge inn for the kill, he kicked an Executioner’s helm at Ronin. On instinct Ronin caught it, but it the distraction was all the killer needed to breach the gap to his prey.
The assailant placed the point of a dagger under the stripling’s neck, making sure he knew his fate was in his hands. “Dirty trick, I know, but all’s fair…ugh.”
With little effort, Ronin pushed the would-be killer away. With further insult to injury, he lifted up his left gauntlet, and with a single strong whack knocked all the blood of the sword hidden within it. “Love and war.”
Clang. Ronin turned around, seeing master and student lock blades just a few steps behind him.
“All of your warriors are dead.”
“You didn’t kill all of them.”
“No, the minotaur killed a couple, the slave girls killed a few more, the target killed a couple, and I killed a whole lot. Oh, and the Bride seems to have had a vile of sleeping powder. It’s amazing how much your prized students sleep on the job.”
The master turned to look and saw the remaining six assassin’s asleep, and having their throats slit by Selexa. “Mongrel, I should have known you would be trouble.”
“You did. All the pranks I pulled; that Tuluk I became close friends with, and helped her find greener pastures; the exploding goat incident; the mission that the temple almost placed a bounty on my head; all things you overlooked or used your influence to mitigate, father.”
“What foolishness is this now?”
“I paid a pretty penny to a sorceress I rescued six months ago. That suicide mission that the Temple thought was the only thing they could trust me on? In return for saving her, I had her show me my lineage. Apparently not only did you spend an unhealthy amount of time at the brothels, you knew you had fathered me, and a dozen other children sent to the Temples of Khaine on Death Knight. You handpicked me and two others to be your students because you knew we would be brothers. That way you would know, as we tried to kill each other to get your approval, you’d see which son was the strongest.
“And don’t think I forgave you for forcing me to watch her die!”
“Are you still angry at that? That night I saved you from your folly.”
“No, you just let me know who my enemies were!” With that Relik pushed the Master Assassin back. “This is it, old man. Let’s settle this. Ronin, Run. Who knows what else he has up his sleeve.”
“You’re coming with us.”
“I don’t think I can beat him, but I can slow him down. Go, your survival is more important. Besides, you’re not the only one seeking vengeance.”
“See you on the boat then.” Ronin understood what his brother in arms had to do, and ordered his followers to flee.”
“Are you just going to leave him, Ronin?” Demanded Arhedel.
“I trust Relik knows what he is doing. Besides, he has his own daemons to face as well. Let him exercise this one.” Before Arhedel could argue more, Ronin sent a fist into her gut, and carried her over his shoulders. “I’m sorry, but this is not up to discussion. And Relik, I better see you on the boat!” Ronin needed no further commands to convince the others to rush to the dockyards.
“This is a waste of time, Relik. You know how this will end.”
“Quit talking.” Relik brought out his favored weapon, with the sickle in one hand, and swinging the ball and chain with the other.
“That toy? Too flashy. What you need is this!”
The grand masters struck first thrusting dagger underneath Relik’s ribs from three sword length’s away. It was one of his bottom ribs. It missed most of his organs, and with only some significant damage to the liver, one of the hardiest organs of any creature. That said having a blade the length of a hand go through you was never a pleasant feeling, nor were the toxins within it.
“A fresh coat of rattle snake venom, just for me? You do care.”
“It was meant for that upstart, but you will have to do.”
Relik swung the ball and chain around, keeping distance between himself and his foe. Even a master of death had to be careful around such a weapon, and one foolish move could spell disaster. The master sent another dagger at Relik who dodged it with ease. Three more daggers were thrown in succession only for their target to avoid their deadly aim. However, the master noticed each stepped was progressively more labored than the last. It was only ever so slightly, well out of the senses of most beings, but not to one of the truly favored of the Bloody Handed God. Relik’s breathing was also becoming harsher, much raspier than usual. This was not from the exertion of his movements, nor was it from any damage of the knife but the toxins forming from it, destroying his body from within.
Before long Relik was on one knee, his grasp of his weapon loosening. The attacks were just too grave for him to cope, something he had always expected. Weakly, he flung the ball and chain at his master, but he simply stepped aside. By the time the ball had made its last thud on the ground, the master assassin was upon Relik.
With a single thrust, Sevril’Relik was hoisted into the air with only one hand on his throat. A loud thud and a weak cry of pain emanated throughout the empty city street as Relik was shoved into the masonry. His master leisurely took out his blade, letting the stinging sensation permeate his student’s body for as long as he could.
“I am truly sorry that it had to come to this. I too was once as carefree as you, but I beat that side of me into submission, and I hoped you would someday as well. It is a shame it could not be that way.” The master flipped his dagger downwards. With all the strength he could muster the master assassin brought his dagger down upon his student’s chest.
Or he would have if Relik didn’t shove his sickle upwards; cutting deep into his master’s armored wrists. With death narrowly averted, Relik followed this up with a quick but powerful head butt. Just as the veteran killer retrieved his bearings, Relik brought his sickle down upon his master’s head, impaling his brains with enough force to break his skull in half.
“All things considering, I rather like being me.” As Relik said this, he tossed a small vile of liquid onto his open wound. Smoke and bobbling puss emanated from the wound on contact, sealing it up as if nothing had happened. “Note to self: I still need to work on my immunity to my venoms.”
With all his strength focused on fighting the toxins festering inside him, Relik could do nothing but slide down the wall beside him. He wondered what was becoming of his compatriots. Annihilation a rival family was rare but not unheard of, but most blood feuds were kept in the shadows to keep from spilling over and causing untold chaos on the city streets. It was one thing to live for war not much else; it was another thing to reduce a sizable portion of the Witch King’s armies into chunks of dead corpses. So manipulation, bargains, a few marriages with greater powers, and the ever so popular option of hiring an assassin were used often.
However, this was slow and tedious, and all involved parties would use this to their advantage. A faster approach was to take all available lesser houses and your allies together, with an odd number in the several dozens of spell casters and hundreds of the temple of Khaine’s favored foot soldiers to butcher the enemy. A full scale war with hundreds of banners, thousands of infantry and cavalry, and hundreds of wizards, war machines, and other beasts of war going at each other would see that one side or the other desolated.
If one side, over the conflict, was demolished, the survivors would often be enslaved to make a small fortune, or to ensure there would be no retribution from the survivors, the complete and total genocide of the family. To ensure this, the most experienced assassins would be dispatched to track down and eliminate the remaining members of that house down. If that member of the family was out on a raid, he was killed using the natives’ favored tactics. If the family member was sent to one of the northern patrol towers near the wastelands, the assassin would simply need to stir up a local orc or human tribe and have them take care of the mess.
After that, only a few individuals would go past those towers, into the north county, namely those with a fanatical loyalty to certain warlords or individuals in the cult of Khaine, or those with the skills needed to track them and were particularly suicidal would make this journey. After all, it even the most insane berserker the cult of Khaine uses knows this was where the winds of magic were at their strongest, and so were the abominations they created. But that was only if the target was deemed worthy enough. If the risks outweighed the reward, then the prey was let go until they reared their heads in civilized lands.
Relik wondered which of the great households had done this, for it would have to be one of the most influential households. The last time something like this occurred, it was rumored that a hundred graduate fully fledged assassins, a master and his three most trusted students, three dozen students who had been deemed worthy enough to do field work were hired for such a job. A job requiring a master’s touch would be enough to build quarter of a temple, but the combined coast of all the other killers would take care of another quarter. Such vast quantities of wealth in coin, jewel, service, and sacrificial slaves would be monumental; and no small feat.
Than a thought appeared in Sevril’Relik’s mind that made him curse in every tongue he knew. They had killed the master, over a dozen that passed every challenge their masters gave them, and large number of initiates. Even given that a few may have been killed elsewhere, there were still dozens of killers on the prowl.
And who knows what else would be in store for the stripling. There was no chance for him to survive this, but give Ronin’s luck, there may be a reason to have a contingency plan.
While Relik limped towards the docks, Ronin felt he was being watched. “We’re still being followed.”
“No kidding, now put me down!” growled Arhedel, hitting Ronin with what hand wasn’t holding her prized crossbow. A crack of a shoe on the cobblestones behind the group caught her attention, as did the rustling of sheathed swords and daggers. “On second thought, keep running.”
“Great, who’s after us now?” demanded Sulfura.
“Who else runs really fast, has pale skin, and dons black cloaks in broad daylight?”
“Off duty assassins?” said Ronin half heartedly.
“Or ones that think they have their prey.” interrupted Selexa. “If they think you are cornered, then they do not have to work as hard.”
“And how do they have us cornered? There is nothing but, oh.” The group stopped as Ronin caught himself. A wall of spears blocked the direct path to the docks. Ronin looked over to the right, and the path that lay there, but it was one that took an indirect rout to the dockyards, leaving the group plenty of time to be ambushed. Speaking of which, the dozen assassins behind them slowed their movements to a leisurely stole.
“I wonder? The right incantation can send most of them running to the abyss, and the rest screaming like little children.” cued Selexa, tapping a finger on her staff.
“And that would be what they would want.” Ronin replied gravely. His bride protested, but he simply shook his head. “Think about it. It’s been over half a century since their orders were given, and only I remain to uphold the name my Father had given me. Why would they waste such time on the likes of me? Especially when a greater prize, a rouge sorceress of a rival cult would offer them a much more rewarding prize.”
“Except that if you truly are an Ascendo’Tuum, than you are the true target.”
“It would be nice to know why they want me dead.”
“It would be nice if you let me down?” Arhedel was still hitting Ronin in the back. No sooner she was on the ground, the armature killers chasing after them were on their way to the underworld.
The wall of spears crept forward, inching their phalanxes ever closer to Ronin and his compatriots. Selxa placed a hand on her betroths head, and sent a surge of pure magic through his veins. Within moments, he saw everything he needed to know. Now all he had to worry about is if his brain would explode from that surge of power.
Ronin doubled over, pin wracking every fiber of his being. Before long, he was on his knees, tears of blood raining from his eyes. The final touch was a spray of vomit from his lips.
“Next time, just tell me my old man used to be a hair of a great military dynasty.”
“Not just a great, one, but one of the ruling houses of Clar Karond in the south. If someone needed to a military mind, they went to that house. The rest of the rumors we’ve been hearing about how they fell from grace should be…”
Another spew and Ronin was up to date. The leader of the house, a lecherous old man, had a number of affairs. He had a long affair with a rival’s wife until he started keeping an unhealthy eye on the lord’s beautiful daughter. Another was with a High Sorceress from the city of Ghround, whose influence could call upon three legions to her aid. However, the other great affair was that of a High Priestess of the Ereth Khial. However, it was said that there were hundreds of others, all of various positions of power, and it didn’t take long before his three most powerful lovers grew tired of this. All they had to do was bide their time for the right moment to enact their vengeance. As expected, it was a short wait.
Apparently spending one’s time in the bed chambers of a captured high elf princess when he should have been defending the captured fortress city instead was that moment. It was during the last major invasion, and it would be this lapse in judgment that would return the city back the Asur’s hands, and spell the beginning off the end of that war. The various lost battles since then only added insult to injury to the family. To ensure future generations of this family learned their lesson, all the ruling members were sent to various alters of the Gods of the Underworld, their blood being the price for penance.
Over the centuries, it only took the decedents from the women scorn to capitalize on subsequent failures, many they had a hand in sabotaging. When the Ascendo’Tuum family name, and its old glory, was in decline it was time to act. Waiting for most of the wiser and stronger warriors and warlords to be off on raiding missions, there were only the bare minimum of guards remaining at the citadel these nobles called home. The rival family, with years of political influence and alliances sealed with marriages, gave the Ascendo’Tuum’s enemies man power. The Coven of the Icy fortress city of Ghround brought the fire power needed to open up the front gates, and let them destroy any outer defenses they may have had. As for the Priestess of Ereth Khail, her follower never forgot her shame, nor would they let her lover’s seed forget it either. The ruler of the underworld was the second most powerful deity of the elvin pantheon, and threats from her clerics were nothing to be scoffed at, and so half the guard fought alongside their bitter enemies.
To ensure Malekith would stay out, the laws of Blood Feud was used, when the new head of the family savagely beat their greatest rival’s eldest daughter half to death. It was claimed as an accident, but she showed much potential as one of the Witch King’s sorceresses, and the loss of even one in such a foolish manner was not something he would overlook. So he ignored the coming battle.
Both sides fought like dragons, but only one would rise above the other. When the last of the kin of the man Ronin called father was cut down, the war was over. The family was in ruins, its remaining sons and daughters would have no influence or ability to command armies, thus no longer any threat. However, it appeared this was not enough.
As Ronin returned to his senses, he remembered what that assassin that first called Ronin by his family name. This not just ensuring a rival was no longer a threat, this was genocide: the deliberate and systematic eradication of his kin. Ronin had seen and endured the foulness of this people enough to learn to live within it with some sense of ease, but this was more than he was willing to bare. Moreover, any one that wanted to kill his father had to pay for such desires.
“Spearmen, what house do you hail from?” Ronin called.
“None that want you alive, spawn of a dead man.”
“Well, if you see your masters, tell them if they want me than they need to show themselves. Oh no!” With the rest of last night’s dinner out of his system, Ronin was ready to fight. At least he would be if his hands were not shaking like a branch in a storm.
“We need to keep going forward to the boat.”
“Ronin, Relik is back there still, and we have phalanx of spearmen in front of us.”
Before Ronin could respond, Sorbeck cracked his knuckles. “The assassin will think of something. As for me, I got the spearmen. Now, if you excuse me, I need to work off those Goblins I had this morning.” With that, he charged recklessly into the spearmen, sending many of them flying back and into their compatriots’ weapons.
“Oh for crying out loud! Is everyone going to be a martyr for me?” It took everything for the women surrounding Ronin to hold him back.
“You are not fighting in this condition!” demanded Selexa. “I am not marrying a corps, so let him fight this battle for you.
“He’s being pushed back, look.”
As Ronin said, despite the initial dent in the enemy forces, they had managed to push the minotaur back several passes, though he was not in the business of giving up any time soon.
“Well then, I have a couple of friends that might help.” With a wicked grin, Selexa popped open a pair of pink bottles. As she did this, a pair of sparks shot out of the openings, fluttering around with glee. “Ok girls, I need you to make sure no one is spying on us, and I need you to bring the assassin Sevril’Relik here. Understood girls?” The two sparks flew off in separate directions as fast as they appeared. “Pixies. They will do anything for a quick laugh.”
Explosions filled the air as the screams of men torn asunder range a chorus throughout. On occasion, the head of an elf with the rune of the Bloody Handed God would plop onto the ground; their faces contorted into a surprised grimace. The thunder of a mischievous pixy continued on, but it slowly grew fainter, as if it was moving away. Then, another sound plopped nearby, and with it the neighing of a horse, and a grumbling of an old friend. A few moments later, both pixies returned to their bottles.
“Well, that should take care of a few problems. Can I use magic now that any assassin within three miles has turned to chum?”
“What in the Black pit is going on? demanded the assassin, falling off his dark steed.
Ronin on the other hand had his own inquirers “I want to know how you survived that, and where did you got that horse?”
“Some dark riders were out patrolling for us, and I ended up giving them another path to take. So, a little enchantment on the horse, and I was off.”
“Assassins use magic?”
“Simple charms, nothing too threatening. Although, this boy is about to break free of it.”
“Can you send it charging into the spearmen?”
“I can, but why?”
“That’s why!” Ronin pointed at the spearmen. No matter how many Sorbeck killed, they just kept moving forward, moving him back. This was more than he could handle. But nothing a soul draining spell couldn’t handle. Selexa stretched her hand forward, grasping their life essence as if it was as tangible as she was. She quickly brought her hand back, adding their lives to hers. Another blast of that frighteningly powerful spell, and she removed the wounds covering Sevril’Relik, Ronin, and Sorbeck, and covered it upon their foes. Ronin, Relik, and Sorbeck felt refreshed, as if the Ronin had never absorbed too much magic, or Relik and Sorbeck enemy steel.
“Relik, care to teach these armatures who they are dealing with?” asked Ronin
“I do believe we shall.” As they prepared to make their charge, Sulfura made her own advance. “Are you sure you want to join us? These guys look tough?”
“If what you say is true about Ronin, then I want to have a part in keeping him alive.”
“Well, the other girls had their fun, no reason she can’t Relik.” said Ronin with a hint of glee. “Come, let us offer sacrifices to the Lord of Murder!
With guttural cries of war, they threw themselves into the enemy, while spells and bolts whizzed into any warrior trying to get at the flanks of Ronin’s followers. They wasted no time reducing the enemy down to size, slaughtering all who came before them. However, even with their skills they could not do this for long. Arhedel had only so many bolts, and Selexa only so many spells that could harm the enemy without killing her comrades. Moreover, they were not immune to taking wounds themselves.
By the time they were done butchering the spearmen, Ronin had to use his simple healing spell on himself, and his followers. By the time he had mended their bodies enough for travel, the clamor of dozens of warriors could echo down the streets before them.
“How many people do I have to kill to not be killed myself this day?” growled Ronin.
“If my pixies are rested enough, maybe not too many.”Selexa brought out one of her pixy bottles, and let out the sprite within. “Lead us to the docks through the safest paths we can take.”
The sprite zoomed to the pathway before them, and they followed. As expected, spearmen and assassins assailed them from every way, but Ronin and Relik’s skills with the throwing knives were enough to deal with all but the most persistent of foes. For those warriors, the sword and dagger were the weapons of choice. By the time the group had reached the noble’s quarter, the pixy grew tired and it was time to return to her bottle. At least the docks were not too far from here.
“How many assassins did we kill again? I lost count at thirty five!” asked Arhedel as she shoved her bayoneted crossbow into a foe’s chest.
“I think about sixty so far, with more to come!” With Relik’s final two knives, he dropped another student assassin. “I can’t believe how fool hardy these idiots are! I would never leave myself open for attack. Not like this!” As he said that his imaged blurred out of sight. He was only gone a moment or two, but it was long enough to leave two fresh corpses at his feet.
“We can discuss their methodology later. Right now, I like staying al…Whoa!” Ronin just stepped just a quarter of a dagger’s length close to the edge of a steep incline. It was almost like staring down a cliff face. However, what worried him was what looked like thirteen assassins and thirty odd hired thugs hiking up the hill to greet them.
“I’m open to ideas.”
That instant, Sorbeck tossed began tossing the elves into the cart. With one hoof on the back of the cart, and another on the ground, he kept it teetering ever so precariously over the edge. It didn’t take long for the elves to realize what was going to happen. Within a moment Ronin and Relik commended their spirits to the gods and the ride of their lives had commences.
The heavy cart could do nothing but gain momentum as it rolled down hill. The farther it went the faster it flew down the slope, and the more Relik and Ronin cried for their mothers. If sound of such an event didn’t grab one’s attention, the fact it would soon run you down would. Those with the speed and grace to get out of the way did as the cart continued to grow faster and faster. However one needed the speed of an assassin to do such a feat, and not even they could get out of the way without an extra bit of dumb luck. In the end, the only one who truly enjoyed this was Sorbeck who never stopped howling with joy.
And then they hit flat ground, their speed still going unchecked and now even unstoppable. At least until they came to another hill. The sight of such an obstacle did little to comfort the elves, only confirming they were going to die in a way horribly. At least it wouldn’t be at the hands of their enemies. The elves braced for impact, never daring to look.
Moments passed, and they waited until the end. It would be the squawking of a crow that would bring them out of their fear induced stupor long enough to see what was going on.
“Hay, it’s pretty peaceful. Are we dead? Is this the afterlife?” asked Arhedel.
“No.” wept Sevril’Relik. “We’re not.”
“If we’re not dead why are you crying?”
Relik’s only response was pointing down. When the other elves saw what caused the assassin’s lamentation, they understood completely. That last hill had sent them air born, and what comes up must come down. Screams of terror filled the air, the brave soldiers unable to cope with fate that was out of their control. And then nothing happened. After a few not so silent moments, the well understandably shaken elves looked down. They still continued their dissent, but now it was done at a safer rate. As they hovered softly to the ground, they realize crashing to their death would have been a much merciful fate. Any remaining mercenaries and assassins that had not been killed already, sharpened their blades, and patted their maces and cudgels in their hands.
They waited, even long after Ronin and his compatriots left the cart, for a moment to strike. However, Ronin could not see why they were taking their sweet time. After all, they had been running for their lives throughout a fairy large city, fighting all the way. Their blades needed a good sharpening, and they were out of throwing knives. Even Arhedel, who always kept a few extra quivers of bolts, was running low. To make matters worth, Selexa didn’t have a spell that could whip out all of these fighters and rouges and be sure not one would rat her out for a larger prophet. Even her pixies had not recovered enough for this.
Ronin let out an impressed whistle. “There has to be over a fifty hired thugs here, and forty or fifty assassins. Not bad.”
“I know, we had a whole battalion cover the city in a new shade of red?” joked Relik
“Sorry to disappoint, but not quite that many.” said a cold, otherworldly voice. The hired swords parted to make a path for a cloaked figure, one that emanated an aura of fear like a strong odor. “However, it seems my warriors have been over paid for their capabilities.”
“Are you the one that ordered my family’s extermination?” demanded Ronin, his sword in hand.
The figure stretched forth its slender hand and with a force of will slammed Ronin into the cart. “It seems your blood is purely Asur; it seems we attacked you for naught.”
“It seems you are half right.” coughed Ronin, blood seeping out from between his lips. “Show me your face, or are you afraid I’m going to tell on someone?”
The figure did so, and her radiant face, with is regal strong features, shown through. “Do you know who I am?” she asked, her voice still giving the feeling of something otherworld.
“No, but I am guessing you are the high sorceress that was seduced my father’s ancestor?”
“Seduced is an appropriate word. I thought the power he wielded would be enough to bolster that of my own. However he was a weakling, unable to control his lusts, something I can see you having a problem with as well.”
“I respect the women I love, that man that took advantage of you and the others he bedded was a swine, and deserved to die as such. However, what I want to know was why he was a worthy enough of an excuse to kill off an entire clan?”
“Simple: prophets. His seed tended to be just as vile as he, the wealth they had acquired would be enough to ensure the rise of myself, and my temporary allies in that venture to prominence equal to a Drachau.”
“So greed was the answer. Hmm, if that’s the case why spend the money on tracking the rest of us down?”
“Because I was the only one who would be worth attacking in retribution. The priestess that had allied with me had given her life so your father’s ancestor would fail miserably, and the other was simply happy to harass and keep down a weakened clan.
“So what in the abyss gave you permission to singlehandedly reduce my kin to ash?”
“Why should I tell you, little boy?”
Ronin shrugged his shoulders. “No reason, but by attacking me, and nearly killing my associates in the process, you opened a blood feud with me.”
“Are saying you would kill me?”
“You let flood gates open, and I just earned the protection and respect of the Sacred Slaughterer. Given a few years, I could even earn the allies and the wealth to take you down. Are you truly going to give me that chance?”
“I guess not. I was going to spar you a little longer, but my time is precious. Say good…” Ronin ended the Supreme Sorceress’ speech a well aimed scimitar flying into her face.
The shock and surprise from such a maneuver stayed on her face as her Dhur, her black magic ripped itself from her being. It seemed the openings of on her face was not enough to release the dark magic that had swelled inside her, and so it began tearing open more throughout her body. The black bolts lashed out at any nearby, going so far as to chase down even the swiftest of fighters. Once it ensnared its prey, it’s reduced its victims to ash.
Then, as quickly as it began, it was over. The ancient crone’s true age slowly but surely began to make itself appearance. Lines, creases, and cracks left a patch work across her face. The final straw was a gentle guest of wind. It was all that was needed for her to crumble into nothing.
In the end only Ronin, his comrades, and a few dozen sell swords remained. It was a horrific sight, but her own dark desires seemed to be what consumed her at long last. Now they just had to deal with the remaining warriors.
A whizzing sound zipped through the air, followed by the plop of a dead assassin. This was followed by another wiz and another corps, and another and another. By the tenth foe with an arrow or bolt in through their heart, the howls of war hounds roared to life as packs of these vicious beasts lunged at the remaining mercenaries. Any sell sword that remained now had to deal a shrieking terror of the foulest kind: harpies. They swooped down, overpowering even the most powerful of assassins with sheer numbers. When they had even liked the marrow clean from the remains of their victims, the beasts turned hungrily towards the only remaining food: 1 minotaur and a handful of elves.
“Enough!” Commanded a rough voice, with the snap of a finger. Like passive children, the animals gave a wide wake to their master, a strong elf with a patchwork of scars on his exposed chest. His only weapons was a long, well worn glaive, and a charming smile.
“I see my pets took care of the rest of the miscreants. I am Trux Pack Leader of the Krwalkus clan. Of all beastmaster clans, it is ours that ranks among the greatest of warlords. We also hold the honor of being an ancestral rival of yours.”
“Than why help us, Trux? I thought Druchii delighted in the destruction of an enemy?” scoffed Ronin. “Not that I’m ungrateful for not having a small forest worth of hungry animals not tearing us apart.”
“Yes, well, pretty much of the greater houses of the time saw it fit to wage a secret war with you, it was mostly because the Master of the House’s wife had a few conquests of her own, on the battlefield and otherwise, and well, she added your ancestor to the list multiple times. The fact a fierce rival was wooing her was more than my ancestor could bear, nor would it be one he would have to for long. We get stuck with a blood pack to bring you down to a manageable level, which we did, so our end of the bargain was done with. She just called in a few favors with our other rivals, something that would just not do for future relations. Especially how callus she is towards our city. Never a good thing to insult the great City of Karond Karr, nor is it to bring up old grudges that serve no purpose than to further one’s ego. As for your kin, you were always a good marker to see how well the raids were going.”
“So genocide was not on the order of the day?”
“Why, when we made more money off your clan’s efforts? We were even going to propose an alliance sealed with a marriage or two to ensure the wealth would keep on flowing?”
It was amazing to Ronin. The great love of the Druchii was the act of killing. Up until now, he thought the only other conquest a Druchii would even dare say they enjoyed would have been in the bed chamber. Now the real truth came out: Druchii were greedy, and the love of silver was greater than all else. Butchery was just a way to get to it. Only in the Har Ganeth, the city of the Executioners, did the acts of slaughter outweigh all other pleasures.
“Now come,” commanded Trux. “The captain of the Executioners has given you to the Kewalkus clan. Your studies beguine when you dock in Karond Karr, where you will learn from the Vaulkar of that great city. His name is Felkir Krwalkus, and he is a master breeder of both hydras and dark steeds. When you have learned all you can from him, we will see where your fate is.”
“Why does it seem that because I am of Asur birth, people must assume I am a fool?”
“It’s an interesting question. Wish I had an answer.”
“I have spent a year in the depths of hell, with my only retrieve being my friends here. I have been beaten, scourged, threatened, attacked by assassins and daemons, and just a few breaths ago, attacked the woman responsible for seeking the life of my father. Forgive me for not trusting you.”
Trux simply smiled. “All is forgiven, as trust is a commodity not common in these parts. So there is no need to apologize.” A blink of Ronin’s eyes, and the beastmaster was now standing back to back to Ronin, his prized glaive under the stripling’s jaw. Where Trux once stood, was Sevril’Relik, bewildered, but otherwise unharmed. “All things considered, as a Shadow Caster, one who has some understanding of the winds of Ulgu, I could make your death look like an accident if I wanted to.
“However, now that you see me doing what I do best, I think you can trust me. After all, a shadow caster of my level would be a pretty coin in your purse. But then again, I could say the same thing about your bride. I can smell the Dhur on her.”
“I get it: we each have something that we can blackmail each other with. Something that we could cause great harm to one another, like two duelists with daggers under their rival’s throat. This is also too good to be true, but I’ll take what I can get.” said Ronin reluctantly.
“Glad you see it my way. Now if you don’t mind, we have a leviathan to board.”
“That a class of ship.”
“Eh, no. It’s a thirty four sword length long sea creature with a pleasant disposition until mating season or it sees a whale, at which point all bets are off.”
“I thought we were going on a ship?”
“Druchii often build vessels on the backs of large sea monsters, using the beast’s abilities to our advantage. We keep the castles low so the creatures can still move swiftly, enchanting them for lightness. That and to block out the water. Leviathans do not like being on the surface for too long.”
“Wait, we’re doing what?”
“It may be best if I showed you.” With a snap of Trux’s fingers, everyone was now standing beside the ocean in the dockyards. The air was crisp and clean, and the activities of the workers seemed to move at a casual pace. Even the guards took the time to set their spears down and cast a line into the sea. Several slaves brought up steel cages filled to the brim with crabs, and hoisted them onto carts to be taken to market.
Trux brought out a conch horn, and blew into it three times, each breath producing a loud trumpeting burst of sound. As the beastmaster expected, the ocean came alive with bubbles, the waters rising with each breath. Before too long a head breached the surface. What amazed Ronin the most was the size of the serpentine head, and the maw that came with it. So massive it didn’t take much imagination to think a dragon could be crushed by such a maw. The surprises only continued as Trux simply walked over to the edge of the dock, and beckoned the beast to come forward.
“This is Sea Stalker,” he said as he petted the Leviathan’s bottom lip. “She’s about a hundred and sixty years old, and has seen a lot of action in those years. Do not worry for she is calm, and well fed. She’ll take you to the Karond Karr with no worries.”
“I guess we’re going to get to…”
“I will stay here. My superiors have another assignment for me, here. I dare not disappoint them. Slaves, bring out the ramp!”
Two ogres pushed a large wooden ramp towards the leviathan’s head, then hurried back to their duties. There were few things that could scare an ogre, and something that could make a snack of them was one of them.
Ronin was the shrugged his shoulders, and grabbed his stuff sack from what was left of the cart. “The sooner I get out of this city, the sooner I can get a good night sleep.”
“I doubt it, I get sea sick.” groaned Sevril’Relik, as he leaned against the ramp’s railing. “Do we have to go on that thing?”
“What choices do you have, assassin? To go by land would take many months of travel, much less preparation. The use of magic is out of the question as teleportation is over great distances is often met with disaster unless one is a master of the Lore of Shadows. That is someone we do not have at the moment. As for other vessels, they are out on patrol or raiding for supplies for the oncoming war, so this is your only option.”
“If all available ships are gone, why is that thing here?”
“Leviathans prefer a slow and steady pace while pregnant unless they are hunting. Until she gives birth I am afraid she will be the only ship available. If you do not like that, how far can you tred water in kraken infested waters?”
“Kraken?”
“Yes, the favored pray of the leviathan. There have been some rouge monsters destroying the cargo ships in the area, so I was sent to deal with them. Thanks to them, she’s well fed. Also, since she is heading towards Karond Karr, it makes sense to bring you along. Now go, or I will throw you on my ship!”
Relik grumbled, but conceded to march on up the ramp. Sulfura and Sorbeck followed suit with the luggage. All that remained was Ronin and the women he loved. Ronin took one good look at the city he had lived, trained, fought, and made friends and enemies in. The scream of victims on various alters throughout the city range through Ronin’s ears, reminding him why he hated this city.
“Karond Karr will not be a pleasant place,” began Selexa, placing a hand on Ronin’s shoulder. “But it will be better than what we had before.”
“Will that be truly the case?”
Arhedel smacked Ronin in the back of the head then kissed him on the cheek. “This is Har Ganeth, of course anyplace else will be better.”
“Are all Druchii Cities this insane?”
“Only the great six.”
Who needs sanity? I have a Hydra
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Lord temnir
- Executioner
- Posts: 161
- Joined: Sat Jun 14, 2008 8:51 am
- Location: Vienna, Austria
Re: Birth of a Dark Elf
I just read the first few chapters of story. It is awesome and I really enjoyed reading so far! 
If you'd ever consider to write a book, let me know and I'd buy it!
If you'd ever consider to write a book, let me know and I'd buy it!
Victory is messured by the blood spilled.
Re: Birth of a Dark Elf
Thank you. I'm currently rewriting a few parts, but thanks. One can only hope I get that big.
Who needs sanity? I have a Hydra