3. Specter of the Nars

Specter of the Nars


  • **3.3

    The spell of gentle repose worked perfectly. The creature, while dead, still functioned decently enough without any wear or decay. He placed the creature on a make shift table in the corner of the underdark he made as a home. Working carefully with the tools before him he began to extract the venom from the creature’s gland, continuing to keep it on the brink of body failure with his spells so the liquid would reproduce itself.

    It was amazing what one could do with sufficient knowledge in alchemy and magic, and before long he managed to have a decent supply of pseudodragon poison. Taking the stinger from the creature he fashioned a way to stab and apply the poison with it. It was time to act.**


  • **3.2

    He stowed the body in one of the many caves of the Nars. He knew them well, knew small ones that one could barely wiggle in and others that were like grand cathedrals. It was his job to know, it was Her bidding, it was Her place and he felt most at ease there, in the darkness, with the cold stone wrapping him in a chilly embrace. However his task was not able to start yet, he had one more item to retrieve.

    He stalked into the Rawlins, moving through the trees. His black robes, dark as midnight on a moonless eve, rolled down his body as he waited within the tree lines and watched. He knew the fools of Norwick well, the crazed adventurer’s that go to all lengths to “hunt”. Tonight they will be the prey though.

    He watched a few come and go. Human, elf, another human, then a dwarf. No, not what he needed. It was something specific and if it took him a tenday to find it he would wait. Patience is a virtue.

    The night rolled on. Hour after hour slipped farther into the past as Selune’s retched light shone down onto the woods. He was planning to retire for the night when his eyes saw what he wanted, thank the Lady. A hin, adorned in the typical blue robes every mage in Norwick buys, skipping along with a small pseudodragon flying behind him. He was happily talking with his familiar, a little hesitant in the woods at night but hardly afraid as is the downfall of most hins.

    The hin heard the words of casting, but the spell was beyond his grasp. The young adventurer was engulfed in magical darkness. The blue robed mage began to panic and was suddenly hit with a furious wave of magical fear, shaking his entire body and bringing him to the ground in a weeping mess.

    He stalked up then, pulling the great sword from his back. His talent with such weapons had diminished with time, but he still knew the fundamentals, and his target was a quivering mess. He moved to the darkness, his magics allowing him to be at home in the protective globe. He spotted his pray and ignored the pokes of the annoying dragon. He swept down, chopping into the hin three times. The hin’s Blood splattered the ground and rolled off his robes as if it were mere water, the enchantment keeping it clean, as he watched the last movements of life in the corpse.

    He felt the stinger from the pseudodragon once more pushing against his robes, the creature confused as to why it wouldn’t penetrate. It didn’t have a moment to ponder this though, for a purple gauntleted hand reached forward with blazing speed, snatching the creature. It squirmed in his hand but with his master dead its power was fading and he easily snapped the dragon’s neck.

    He pulled the hin’s body onto his shoulder, and with a word of a spell he let the dragons corpse remain fresh and unable to deteriorate. It was almost time now, betrayals must be set right for those past this world.**


  • **3.1

    Tim couldn’t believe it, ten whole gold for a simple job. He’d never seen ten gold at once in his life save for passing a few of the nobles on the street. They always had a ton of gold, and yet he couldn’t even afford food half the time. The hin teen practically had to drag the great sword the man wanted behind him in the street, but that was okay. As he slipped out the gates he thought rather happily how he’ll give half of it to that nice orphanage starting up.

    As he came into the foothills he looks around for the man. He dragged the sword onward as the sun finished setting, moving to the meeting place. When he turned a corner around a hill his furry hin feet nearly tripped over themselves as he almost ran head first into the shining golden man.

    “You did well little one. Here, a tip for your fast service.” The golden man said, tossing a coin pouch to the hin but missing a bit, over throwing above the little ones head.

    The hin turned quickly, grabbing at the coin, counting it out in small wonder. Behind him the shining man in the golden robe bent to pick up the weapon.

    Smiling he looked over the blade. Smiling he ran his hand down it to see the craftsman ship. Smiling he brought it down in an arc nearly severing the hin child in two.**


  • 2.14

    He reached out, arcane words spinning forth from him, trying to grasp it. He still could not, no, not yet. But closer…ever closer.


  • 2.13

    She blinked.

    All around her was darkness, comforting, warm darkness. In the distance she could see her Mistress, She who was always there in her heart even when she wouldn’t admit it to herself. She closed her eyes and felt the darkness around her, and let her mind wander to all the things that made her happy in life


  • 2.12

    The darkness came from him, and she did not blink.

    The magic pulled agonizingly at her soul and she did not blink.

    The chakram came down, tearing through her neck, and even as her head began to be removed…she did not blink.


  • 2.11

    Cara followed the path her feet took her. She was in a daze, had been ever since the night she went to bed with Richard. Sweet dear Richard. Now she walked along the nars almost as if in a dream.

    ”Go up along the ridge then around where the gypsies live. If you see anything of danger run”

    Yes, that’s the words he said. The kind man in gold. Such a nice man, listening to her problems and lending her an ear. Why couldn’t more people be like him. Not like her sweet dear Richard. Sweet dead Richard. Betraying bastard Richard.

    She came to a crypt at night and entered without a single thought. Normally she would’ve been scared to death of even think about venturing into such a place. But it was okay, it was safe here. She knew it was. She walked through the halls of it as if she had walked it a thousand times before. She opened the door and saw him there. A dark imposing specter of a man, the helm connected to his robe looking like that of a deep dragon, yet she knew it was still him. That shining man, that golden hero in her life.

    She walked to him, a smile on her face, blood crusted in her hair. She looked at him and when he asked one simple thing, ”Are you ready?”, she nodded and laid upon the altar.


  • 2.10

    He watched all of this and simply smiled.

    ”Perfect…she is ready”


  • 2.9

    Donavan got to the house about midday. He had gotten the word from Dunderstone to check the house out after numerous complaints of the smells coming from it. He had taken his time to get on the case. Eight long years he had served in the guard force and they had him going out to check smells. Smells for the love of the gods! He finally decided to head over there after a nice long lunch at the mermaid. As soon as he entered the bedroom, he regretted having had that lunch.

    The scene was a bloody mess and flies among other insects had began to swarm around the two dead bodies piled on top of each other on the bed. Holding his nose and holding back the bile rising in his throat, he moved over. ”Dock worker and some street whore” he thought to himself looking at the two and the surroundings. He spotted a knife in the hands of the dead lady, then looking at the wounds figured she must’ve killed the man and then slit her own throat after the guilt of it. Or at least that’s what was going on the report, he wasn’t spending more of his days looking into the deaths of some no named whore and piss ant dock worker.

    He shut the door to the house and headed off to the morgue. ”Let one of those saps carry the bodies off and clean up the place,” he thought, ”I don’t get paid enough for this shit.” He hurried his steps a bit though, he remembered he still had to finish writing up the report of the husband that disappeared after seemingly slaughter his newly wed wife.


  • 2.8

    Marlene was set to leave today. She had only spent a tenday in Peltarch and yet her time here was amazing. Most of all was the man she had met. Such a strong powerful lover. She had never given into such fits of lust before but her body seemed to cry for it with him. She had to see him one last time before she left, had to be with him once more.

    She went to his house early that morning and found the door partially open. She found it curious but didn’t care to much, it suited what she needed. She came in nothing but a dress, nothing underneath. She wanted to find her recent lover and have what she wanted before she was off.

    She crept through the quiet house, heading to the room she knew to be his bedroom. She pushed open the door and moved in and stood silent, transfixed, just pass the portal. The bed was covered in blood and her lover was there in the midst of it, his chest tore open like he was assult by some wild animal.

    A scream came to her lungs, a piercing yell that escaped her mouth for a few seconds before being silenced. The blade came from behind her, one quick slice across the throat. She turned in horror, the crimson liquid spewing from her neck, and saw a woman standing there. A fine velvet green dressed covered in blood upon her body, a bloody dark dagger firmly in her grip, but most disturbing of all was those swirling purple pupils. They were the last thing Marlene saw before she entered the lands of Kelemvor.


  • 2.7

    -Shink-

    A gurgling cry of agony tried to erupt

    -Shink-

    The dark metal blade of the dagger jutted into his chest a second time

    -Shink-

    The third ripped in within a millisecond after, killing any chance for a scream

    -Shink-

    She felt the blood splatter, she didn’t care.

    -Shink-

    Her eyes caught the knickers near the bed. Not hers…not her size…

    -Shink-

    The blade in her hand, how, when. Him. Yes, he put it in her pocket when he whispered…

    -Shink-

    ”He will betray you, and again, and again, and again, and…”

    -Shink-

    ”No more betrayals”

    -Shink-

    ”No more betrayals”

    -Shink-

    ”No more betrayals!”

    -Shink-

    ”NO MORE BETRAYALS!”


  • 2.6

    The gown was amazing. Made of pure green velvet it outlined the curves of her pristine young body perfectly. She had ran into Richards tiny little home that night with it on, elated at the sight of his smile. ”He loves it!” she thought. Cara ran up to her lover, grasping him close and kissing deeply.

    Richard, transfixed by the angelic visage of his girlfriend in such a garment was more then willing to let this flurry of physical actions continue forward, leading his lover into the bedroom and to his bed. The bed that just hours earlier, while Cara’s mind was filled only with thoughts of her love and his happiness, he was delighting in the pleasures of the flesh with a tart he met on the docks.


  • 2.5

    He left early the pervious morning. Cara’s thoughts on it came to her as if they were moving through thick fog. She had remembered an amazing night of talking and togetherness yet couldn’t remember any real conversation they had. Stranger still, she remembered him leaning closer to her before leaving. Watching as he removed his helm and whispered strange words into her ear. Yet his face and those words were no where to be found in her memory. Still, just the thought of the strange helmed man brought delight to her and increased her spirits. ”Anyways, no time to worry of such things. Today I buy my dress. I’m sure Richard will fall in love with me all over again when he see’s it.”


  • 2.4

    She talked long into the night, and all the time the man listened and filtered it all. The magic slipping through her body like some insidious serpent sent forth the words he wished to hear. The talks started on the happy things in her life. How great of tippers the dwarves where, how her mother had just married new husband, how she was going to get a beautiful dress to show off to Richard tomorrow. But as time went on things slipped further from this and the darker things came out, the shadows to the good things that we all have in life. Her bitterness to the dwarven fools always causing such a mess, the resentment at her mother remarrying so soon after the loss of her father, and the betrayal she had felt just the past tenday when she found her dear love Richard with a courtesan from the street. All this and more he listened to and filed into his head, all the time smiling and nodding and listening and consoling and being as she put it at the end of the night ”such an amazing friend…”


  • 2.3

    ”Ah m’lord, tis good to see ye again ‘ere. Can I get ye something to drink, a bit o’ meat or some bread and cheese perhaps?” She gave the imposing figure a smile. Something always seemed to draw her eyes to him. He seemed so kind and righteous, the glowing golden robes looking like something out of the Stories of the Dales, yet there was something more to him. A power she couldn’t fully grasp, yet seemed to intoxicate her.

    ”A bit of ale perhaps Cara; and yes, some bread and cheese sounds excellent now that you mention it. Something light after the travel.”

    His voice was kind, if not a bit weary, and seemed to ease Cara’s thoughts a bit. The young wench running back into the kitchen only to return a minute later with his Order.

    ”’Ere ye are m’lord. If there be anything else I can be getting ye just let me know” She turned to head away, but her heart skipped…in fright or excitement she wondered…as his covered hand reached up to grasp her arm.

    ”Actually Cara, I was wondering if you’d sit a spell with me. It was a long lonely travel and it would be nice to actually get to talk to someone again. Besides, you can’t blame a man for wanting to have a little company from such a enticing young lady can you?”

    She gave a small giggle and after seeing no one else was present in the bar she quickly sat down, moving out of his grasp ”Well now m’lord. I do believe I’ve seen you in this bar on normal occasion for a few tendays now but I never did get ye name?”

    He gave a small short chuckle, friendly yet with a edge to it like a razors. ”Hmm, names are powerful things lass, and sadly its power I don’t have because I don’t remember it much anymore. You may simply call me Traveler if you wish, or D.”

    She gave a funny laugh, not fully understanding such strange notions as that but seeming to lose herself in the situation even so. ”Well now, Traveler isn’t a name it’s a kind o’ person so it wouldn’t be right havin me call ye that now would it? Now D ain’t much o’ anything either, its just a single silly letter but you’re kind o’ cute in a weird mysterious kind o’ way so I’ll keep to that. So Mr. D, what exactly where you wantin to talk about?”

    He smiles under his helm, letting the smile filter into his words. ”Anything and everything zinthos, things to pass the night away carnac and things to make us laugh. deboratus Or perhaps things that make you cry instead, the darker things in your life that you bottle up inside. I’m just hear to listen my dear, so speak whatever you wish. “

    She blinked a bit, shaking her head against the quick blink of purple light she imagined seeing. Was he just speaking gibberish? No, no the night air was getting to her and making her mind wander a bit. How foolish of her, and with such an intriguing man here with her. Besides, she had a ton of things she needed to talk about and the man seemed like he wanted to listen, how could it hurt to tell…


  • 2.2

    He pushed the door open, quickly yet fluidly moving into the warmth of the Pissing Goat, away from the biting wind that was full of Auril’s chill fury. He unconsciously brushed a bit of the snow from his golden robe, thankful at least that the elven crafted helm he wore kept some of his heat in.

    His head scanned the room, seeing the typical patrons of the goat at this night. Drunkards and street rats that had no where else to go because society has scorned them, married men out for a night of carousing before heading back in a stupor to rape their wives, thieves and murderers who thought the night was still young for their hour was still to come. It was a festering hole of human society, one that he thrived in. But not now, not in this guise, in this persona. No, he saw the one he came for and let a small smile form under his golden head piece. Moving over slowly, the robes billowing before giving the impression of his simply gliding over.

    ”Ah, Cara my dear. How lovely it is to see your exuberantly warm face in the steed of all this frigid weather.” The words trailed out like honey but behind the mask there was a small smile that would’ve chilled Auril herself. The game had begun.


  • 2.1

    It had been a long day for Cara. Some of the dwarves from the south came up to the city and they always caused a huge ruckus. Loud and boisterous, spilling ale everywhere and leaving bones of turkey legs scattered about like some crazed feast. Still, for all the trouble and annoyance they may cause at times she still enjoyed when they came up. They had a quaint fun to them that always brought her joy through the weariness of tending to them. The fact that they also were rather good tippers once drunk helped out as well.

    The fiery haired lass headed over to their now deserted table, cleaning up a bit as the candles around the inn finally began to reach their last few embers. She slipped her hand over the half a dozen gold coins and plopped them into her pouch. The thought brought a smile to her face as she thought of the shopping spree that would come the next day.

    She let her minds eye wander as she cleaned, slowly drifting to thoughts of her current lover Richard. He was a strong man, a loading boy at the docks. His broad shoulders and thick chest were a perfect match for her delicate young boy and the thought of his shining green eyes sent her alight. The sound of the door clicking open and the bell ringing sent her from her small reverie as she turned her head. It was then that she saw him again.


  • **1.6

    Those traveling the Nars this day saw a man hanging upon a cliff along the path just after Jiyyd. Burnt into the back of the corpse was a simple message:

    “Darkness is ever Watching”**


  • **1.5

    He held the two eyes in his hand, peering at the strange organs as he rolled them in his hands. This was truly what he needed, the torture of the creature hanging behind him was simply a bonus. Taking a thin needle he pinned one into the middle of the mutilated corpse, a sigul, a sign, a token. He took the helm back into his hands, replacing it with a relieved smirk as it blocked out the blinding light of the sun. Quickly performing a ritual of summoning he pulled forth from the hells a minor devil. The thing quickly bowed at the service of the mage, hoping to do his biding in exchange for some time in this land. The mage bid the imp to cast a simple spell, one of invisibly, then set it on its way to have whatever vile fun it would wish. Himself, his time in this area was done now, it was time to retreat back and continue with his rituals and prayers.

    “After all,” he mused, “I have another to add to my focus.”

    Chuckling coldly as he rolled the remaining eye in his invisible hand**


  • **1.4

    Korgath’s eye fluttered open. Eye, because one was completely swelled shut. The one good one remaining instantly had blood dripping down into it, obscuring his vision as the pain came back within him. He looked through the red haze, watched as his lifeblood spilled out through different points and dripped down under his head.

    It was then he realized what was happening. He pulled his head up a bit to see his body hanging upside down, suspended by a rope tied to a tree branch. He instantly tried to move his hands to his great sword but found them tied.

    “Ah, good. Awake once more. I was beginning to wonder how long it would take you.”

    Who? Wait, no. He knew who it was. It was the specter that descended upon him, the thing with the head like a dragon that he saw before the damned club smashed into him with unbelievable accuracy. He tried to scream out, to call for help, to demand to know why this was being done. Despite his attempts though, nothing more came then simple wheezing and coughs.

    A cool, collected, calm yet purely wicked chuckle came from behind.
    “No no no my barbaric prey. There will be no speaking, no rallying cry for the other brutes from the south to come.”

    At that Korgath saw a bloody dagger thrown under him, teasing him.

    “That is the weapon I used to cut out that voicebox of yours so I no longer had to hear your screams. It would’ve been fun to listen to you beg for your life but such luxuries are not able to be had out here in the wild, but I’ll just have to make up for it.”

    Korgath confusion set in. Witch craft was obvious involved in this, he knew that the moment the red aura surrounded him and the darkness befell him. How was his throat cut out though and yet still he lived. Of course Korgath was a simple southerner, the typical barbarian that knew little of the extent of magic, so there was no way he knew that the man simply cut the useable parts of his voice box then healed the skin, sealing it so that the blood would not trickle out and deprive his captor of the pleasure of his torture.

    Suddenly pain, intense and intrusive seized his body. He felt fingers, each tipped in dripping acid running down his bare back, searing the skin straight from his body, tearing it from the bone. Korgath smelt the sizzle of his flesh, the putrid smell invading his nostrils. The torture went on for what seemed like hours though in reality it was mere minutes. Finally the pain ceased, the sound of his skin sizzling under the magicks stopped. He breathed a sigh of relief, but a short lived one, for just then he saw the boodly dagger picked back up.

    He tried to force his head up, to see who had done this so that he may curse the man to the gods upon his passing. The helm was off, and his one good eye opened slightly at the man beneath the wyrmish covering. The face was darker, the skin looking as if it was covered by ash, but it looked familiar. A face from norwick, years ago. A cleric of lathander that healed his wounds…but, even then, the man seemed to have a darker gleam in his eyes. These musings didn’t have much time to set in though, for the man was moving down, his dark face close to Korgath’s.

    “And now you sad excuse for a living creature, I shall have two things from you before I leave you be. First your lecherous eyes that shall never look upon the flesh of another to lead you to vile deeds of your kind, and to aid me in my endeavors to come. And second I shall take from you because all those of your town do not deserve to call themselves men…”

    He watched in terror the man begin to chant words he didn’t understand, and screamed at the first realization of what he meant. The arrow of acid shot forth from his devil in the skin of a human’s hand and tore into his most precious area, the sizzling of it sending a gurgle through his lungs, a scream nearly escaping despite the ruined voice box. The pain at least distracted him enough that he didn’t have a chance to be afraid of what was coming next, not until the blade struck. The tip of the steel diving into the soft membrane of his one good eye left within him, and the intense pain was finally to much as his consciousness left him…this time being the last ever.**