Post by Averion on Jun 21, 2011 19:07:42 GMT -5
As permanent residence had not yet been established, Averion currently had a room in an Inn to tide him over until he could get a working network up and running, but first a place of business must be located and adjustments made so that it would serve his needs properly.
The temporary room was not a bad place; the half-elf had slept in far worse places over the years, places where a single blanket or pillow would have been an extreme luxury. Places he preferred not to think too long upon, should he wish to find any sleep. Still, there was a grumble of irritation from the male as he was forced to drag himself from his bed upon the knocking of a fist on the sturdy wooden door. He had not been so deep in slumber that the faint creak of foot on floorboard did not alert him to the presence of someone in the outside hall, but such things he had long ago learned to monitor whilst still clinging to sleep.
Silken tunic and leather pants, both of black, were drawn on before he paced to the door and hauled it open. Even through the closed portal the sound and pacing of the innkeeper’s breath were unmistakable, and unless he had neglected payment — which Averion never did — there was nothing to fear from the fellow that the sharp-eyed rogue could discern. “Better be good,” he murmured to the man as he studied him through eyes feigning a drowsy state.
The innkeeper wiped several beads of gathering perspiration from his brow and glanced sidelong down along the hall before returning his gaze to Averion, heavy lips gibbering away before the first apologetic words came forth. “Ah, apologies, apologies, my lo... good sir,” quickly he correctly himself when Ave’s eyes narrowed; the half-elf had corrected him on multiple occasions already. “B... but, it is said you have some knowledge of, ah, certain things and something terrible is afoot!” The innkeeper’s resolve growing as he thought of his relatives, and what was inevitable should they not receive what they required. “There is a village, not so far away… they are stricken with disease, a horrible thing, and the shipment of curatives they were to receive has gone missing on the road! We thought it may be the bandits, but, ah… we have since received word that the courier, the man who was bringing the shipment… he is, ah, dishonest in nature.”
Ave sliced a hand through the air to silence the man. He knew this tale all too well; however, in the versions that Averion himself was aware of, he was usually the dishonest party taking advantage of others. A smile laced with mirth slid onto his lips momentarily, before he gave a nod to the innkeeper. “So you suspect he found a… higher bidder, yes. My own investigations have revealed a possible suitor. This courier as you call him, he is likely more dangerous than he seems.”
As the silence grew and the innkeeper favored Averion with a bemused expression, the rogue eyed the man with cocked brow, expecting the hint had been made clear. It seemed not. “I do not risk my life for nothing, my friend. I will recover these supplies and see they go where needed, but if I am to tramp around the countryside in the middle of the night I expect to be paid for my services. Is that sufficiently clear for you?” The brow acquired a higher tilt now; Ave would be just as pleased to return to his bed.
“Oh! Oh, of course, of course, my lor-- sir,” he managed a wavering smile as, once more, he corrected himself. “The, ah, courier’s payment shall be yours. Perhaps the villagers, they will be, ah, generous… should you arrive with all due haste. I cannot say…”
Another wave of the hand. “Save your words. I’ll be off before the hour is done to take care of this little matter of yours. I trust you will keep my room reserved and not charge me while I am away?”
At the first sign of a nodding head from the innkeeper Averion nodded in turn and swung the door closed once again to prepare himself.
Averion had little tolerance for riding to begin with, and doing so in the dark was an even less pleasant affair, so he left his stallion in the stables when he set out. He could see better than most even in darkness but there was no substitution for his own feet on the earth, the natural wind blowing past his face, carrying the scents of the night with it. Progress was slower, at least while he kept to the road, but it was not long before he strayed from it and began a trek overland. The terrain changed rapidly in the direction he chose; rolling hills with their dancing grasses were soon replaced by scattered stretches of forest and then rocky stands with narrow passes that would have made travel difficult for a man on horseback.
Once or twice he detected the presence of bandits or perhaps others, but he stayed wide of them. They were not those he sought, and though he still had recruiting to do he suspected that a village infested only with the dead would not pay overly well for his services. When the land gave way to little more than rocky foothills and chasms, a river bubbling someplace in the distance, Ave knew that he was close.
There were several caves in the area, but the majority of them were tapped out or had fallen victim to cave-ins that made them impassable. He would find the camp at the main digging site, he knew, but he could not be certain the courier would still be present. But, the supplies ought to be. He need but find them, take them, and make his escape.
At this hour the camp was near deserted. There were no sentries posted; who would have interest in sneaking into a mining camp in a region notorious for the horrors that infested the mines? Several makeshift huts had been erected, including three longhouses that he discarded as residence for the miners themselves. There would be no valuables there. No, his eyes were only for the squat, blockish structures on the camp’s outskirts. A lantern blazed just inside the canvas covering the lone window of one, perhaps the domain of the night watchman or some other functionary the kobolds left here.
He crept close, a shadow below the window.
For long minutes he remained there unmoving. From within he caught something that may have been breathing, but with the number of holes and such in the thin wood walls of the hut, it could just as easily have been the wind sweeping through the interior. Finally, after near thirty minutes of listening, a distinctly metallic scraping sounded within. Perhaps a tin canister across the wooden surface of a table, it was hard to say. But either way it revealed the presence of one within, as well as their relative location.
In a matter of seconds the half-elf swept round to the entryway. This too was covered by a smeared canvas drape and presented an obstacle to stealthy passing. He would have preferred a deal, quiet words in the night, but it seemed he must resort to other measured. With back pressed to the wall nearby the entrance, he produced a hand crossbow of drow design from the voluminous waves of his cloak, miniature quarrel already loaded and prepared to be fired. Precision was of necessity, and yet he had less than ideal conditions under which to function. Silence, silence… his ears attuned themselves to the interior of the hut, body shifted to one side, the tip of the crossbow inserted into the gap between canvas and doorframe.
Averion pursed his lips and made a low calling sound, a hooting similar to that of an owl. From within, nothing. The sound was repeated, this time more loudly. After a few moments of further silence, the scraping of chair legs was evident, and then booted feet attempting to move quietly and failing quite miserably to his ears. Closer. Closer. A perplexed grunt from within, so very close at hand, provided him with location. The dart was released with the softest of clicks, to be followed by another grunt, this one revealing considerably more surprise than the last. Silently, Averion ducked beneath the canvas and caught a glimpse of staggering form. In an instant his gloved fist shot out and connected with throat, silencing anything more that may have been said.
As the poison worked its way into bloodstream and spread through body, the kobold began to collapse. The rogue stepped in close and caught the tumbling creature, laying it gently to the floor. There the body was left as he began to scour the interior of the hut. There was not much to find, but underneath a box filled with old bits of copper he found a sheet of fresh parchment, details recently scrawled upon it. A contract. Details of a shipment received, and agreed upon payment. The small chest was located soon enough, stacked with several others that contained less intriguing things; mining supplies and rations and the like. As he turned to take his leave, he paused to stare down at the body imprisoned in deep sleep for a time. Slitting the throat would be an easy thing, but the only difference would be the finding of a corpse rather than slumbering kobold. He had no time to dispose of anything.
Decision made, he stepped over the body and exited the hut with chest tucked beneath his cloak secured by an arm, and stole away into the night.
By the time Averion had made his way back to the road, or rather close to it, dawn was beginning to show in the purpling sky. Progress had not been as swift as he’d hoped; while the chest was not overly large nor heavy, its contents were delicate and he had no desire to endanger the prize. If anyone pursued him they were either too far in the distance to be overheard, or boasted exceptional skill. The village should not be far now besides, though he resisted the temptation to walk along the road itself in case it should be watched, keeping it in visual distance but daring go no closer for the time being.
When signs of the village finally came within sight the sky had brightened to the point that cover was essentially meaningless, and so he crossed the land to resume travel upon the road itself. All was silent; even wildlife dared not remain this close to civilization when there was disease about, it seemed. It was too early to tend the fields, but Ave wondered if even that much was still being done in light of the sickness. He came upon the place all at once, cresting a low hill to gaze down upon the cozy little settlement. The streets, such as they were, were nearly empty at the hour but he caught glimpses of movement from time to time, reassuring the male that he was not too late.
Deep breath taken, he started his way downward, confident that this mission would soon be at an end.
NEXT: A Cure and a Courier
The temporary room was not a bad place; the half-elf had slept in far worse places over the years, places where a single blanket or pillow would have been an extreme luxury. Places he preferred not to think too long upon, should he wish to find any sleep. Still, there was a grumble of irritation from the male as he was forced to drag himself from his bed upon the knocking of a fist on the sturdy wooden door. He had not been so deep in slumber that the faint creak of foot on floorboard did not alert him to the presence of someone in the outside hall, but such things he had long ago learned to monitor whilst still clinging to sleep.
Silken tunic and leather pants, both of black, were drawn on before he paced to the door and hauled it open. Even through the closed portal the sound and pacing of the innkeeper’s breath were unmistakable, and unless he had neglected payment — which Averion never did — there was nothing to fear from the fellow that the sharp-eyed rogue could discern. “Better be good,” he murmured to the man as he studied him through eyes feigning a drowsy state.
The innkeeper wiped several beads of gathering perspiration from his brow and glanced sidelong down along the hall before returning his gaze to Averion, heavy lips gibbering away before the first apologetic words came forth. “Ah, apologies, apologies, my lo... good sir,” quickly he correctly himself when Ave’s eyes narrowed; the half-elf had corrected him on multiple occasions already. “B... but, it is said you have some knowledge of, ah, certain things and something terrible is afoot!” The innkeeper’s resolve growing as he thought of his relatives, and what was inevitable should they not receive what they required. “There is a village, not so far away… they are stricken with disease, a horrible thing, and the shipment of curatives they were to receive has gone missing on the road! We thought it may be the bandits, but, ah… we have since received word that the courier, the man who was bringing the shipment… he is, ah, dishonest in nature.”
Ave sliced a hand through the air to silence the man. He knew this tale all too well; however, in the versions that Averion himself was aware of, he was usually the dishonest party taking advantage of others. A smile laced with mirth slid onto his lips momentarily, before he gave a nod to the innkeeper. “So you suspect he found a… higher bidder, yes. My own investigations have revealed a possible suitor. This courier as you call him, he is likely more dangerous than he seems.”
As the silence grew and the innkeeper favored Averion with a bemused expression, the rogue eyed the man with cocked brow, expecting the hint had been made clear. It seemed not. “I do not risk my life for nothing, my friend. I will recover these supplies and see they go where needed, but if I am to tramp around the countryside in the middle of the night I expect to be paid for my services. Is that sufficiently clear for you?” The brow acquired a higher tilt now; Ave would be just as pleased to return to his bed.
“Oh! Oh, of course, of course, my lor-- sir,” he managed a wavering smile as, once more, he corrected himself. “The, ah, courier’s payment shall be yours. Perhaps the villagers, they will be, ah, generous… should you arrive with all due haste. I cannot say…”
Another wave of the hand. “Save your words. I’ll be off before the hour is done to take care of this little matter of yours. I trust you will keep my room reserved and not charge me while I am away?”
At the first sign of a nodding head from the innkeeper Averion nodded in turn and swung the door closed once again to prepare himself.
~
Averion had little tolerance for riding to begin with, and doing so in the dark was an even less pleasant affair, so he left his stallion in the stables when he set out. He could see better than most even in darkness but there was no substitution for his own feet on the earth, the natural wind blowing past his face, carrying the scents of the night with it. Progress was slower, at least while he kept to the road, but it was not long before he strayed from it and began a trek overland. The terrain changed rapidly in the direction he chose; rolling hills with their dancing grasses were soon replaced by scattered stretches of forest and then rocky stands with narrow passes that would have made travel difficult for a man on horseback.
Once or twice he detected the presence of bandits or perhaps others, but he stayed wide of them. They were not those he sought, and though he still had recruiting to do he suspected that a village infested only with the dead would not pay overly well for his services. When the land gave way to little more than rocky foothills and chasms, a river bubbling someplace in the distance, Ave knew that he was close.
There were several caves in the area, but the majority of them were tapped out or had fallen victim to cave-ins that made them impassable. He would find the camp at the main digging site, he knew, but he could not be certain the courier would still be present. But, the supplies ought to be. He need but find them, take them, and make his escape.
At this hour the camp was near deserted. There were no sentries posted; who would have interest in sneaking into a mining camp in a region notorious for the horrors that infested the mines? Several makeshift huts had been erected, including three longhouses that he discarded as residence for the miners themselves. There would be no valuables there. No, his eyes were only for the squat, blockish structures on the camp’s outskirts. A lantern blazed just inside the canvas covering the lone window of one, perhaps the domain of the night watchman or some other functionary the kobolds left here.
He crept close, a shadow below the window.
For long minutes he remained there unmoving. From within he caught something that may have been breathing, but with the number of holes and such in the thin wood walls of the hut, it could just as easily have been the wind sweeping through the interior. Finally, after near thirty minutes of listening, a distinctly metallic scraping sounded within. Perhaps a tin canister across the wooden surface of a table, it was hard to say. But either way it revealed the presence of one within, as well as their relative location.
In a matter of seconds the half-elf swept round to the entryway. This too was covered by a smeared canvas drape and presented an obstacle to stealthy passing. He would have preferred a deal, quiet words in the night, but it seemed he must resort to other measured. With back pressed to the wall nearby the entrance, he produced a hand crossbow of drow design from the voluminous waves of his cloak, miniature quarrel already loaded and prepared to be fired. Precision was of necessity, and yet he had less than ideal conditions under which to function. Silence, silence… his ears attuned themselves to the interior of the hut, body shifted to one side, the tip of the crossbow inserted into the gap between canvas and doorframe.
Averion pursed his lips and made a low calling sound, a hooting similar to that of an owl. From within, nothing. The sound was repeated, this time more loudly. After a few moments of further silence, the scraping of chair legs was evident, and then booted feet attempting to move quietly and failing quite miserably to his ears. Closer. Closer. A perplexed grunt from within, so very close at hand, provided him with location. The dart was released with the softest of clicks, to be followed by another grunt, this one revealing considerably more surprise than the last. Silently, Averion ducked beneath the canvas and caught a glimpse of staggering form. In an instant his gloved fist shot out and connected with throat, silencing anything more that may have been said.
As the poison worked its way into bloodstream and spread through body, the kobold began to collapse. The rogue stepped in close and caught the tumbling creature, laying it gently to the floor. There the body was left as he began to scour the interior of the hut. There was not much to find, but underneath a box filled with old bits of copper he found a sheet of fresh parchment, details recently scrawled upon it. A contract. Details of a shipment received, and agreed upon payment. The small chest was located soon enough, stacked with several others that contained less intriguing things; mining supplies and rations and the like. As he turned to take his leave, he paused to stare down at the body imprisoned in deep sleep for a time. Slitting the throat would be an easy thing, but the only difference would be the finding of a corpse rather than slumbering kobold. He had no time to dispose of anything.
Decision made, he stepped over the body and exited the hut with chest tucked beneath his cloak secured by an arm, and stole away into the night.
~
By the time Averion had made his way back to the road, or rather close to it, dawn was beginning to show in the purpling sky. Progress had not been as swift as he’d hoped; while the chest was not overly large nor heavy, its contents were delicate and he had no desire to endanger the prize. If anyone pursued him they were either too far in the distance to be overheard, or boasted exceptional skill. The village should not be far now besides, though he resisted the temptation to walk along the road itself in case it should be watched, keeping it in visual distance but daring go no closer for the time being.
When signs of the village finally came within sight the sky had brightened to the point that cover was essentially meaningless, and so he crossed the land to resume travel upon the road itself. All was silent; even wildlife dared not remain this close to civilization when there was disease about, it seemed. It was too early to tend the fields, but Ave wondered if even that much was still being done in light of the sickness. He came upon the place all at once, cresting a low hill to gaze down upon the cozy little settlement. The streets, such as they were, were nearly empty at the hour but he caught glimpses of movement from time to time, reassuring the male that he was not too late.
Deep breath taken, he started his way downward, confident that this mission would soon be at an end.
NEXT: A Cure and a Courier