---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*--- [Shifters] The Meeting ---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*--- [Admin - In the last post, Maurkel received his first contact note requesting his services. Rathanael had just arrived from the Void.] * * * * * * * * Maurkel whistled lightly as he walked the pitted cobblestone roads West into the Low City. A group of children ran across the street and bumped into a nobleman as if they hadn't seen him. He yelled at them as they ran off giggling; little did he know he was missing a money purse and a few rings. Maurkel chuckled and smiled cunningly at the retreating thieves. As he approached the noble, he held an image of a stocky dwarf in his mind. His clothes tightened and his sleeves grew. He called on the correct dwarven attire before he started popping buttons; his clothes faded and were replaced by his chosen garb. "Hello, sir! What brings a man of such wealth into this hovel?" he said in a gruff tone. "What do you care?!" he snapped as he moved to guard his valuables, which he suddenly realized were no longer in his posession. "Wonderful bunch of children, are they not?" replied the dwarf admiringly as his eyes went to the alley they disappeared in. "Spawn of the great one they call "Blaz'art" no doubt!" The nobleman looked at the dwarf with new interest. "Blaz'art, you say?" The dwarf nodded and the nobleman reached inside his cloak and pulled out a sealed envelope. "So the offer is accepted?" The dwarf tugged on his beard and gave the noble a shrewd, calculating eye. "Double the sunshine and perhaps." The nobleman shrugged and Maurkel realized should have pushed it farther. This mark seems more valuable than he first realized. The nobleman handed him the envelope. Before the he knew what was happening, the dwarf had spit in his free left hand, clasped the nobleman's hand in a firm shake, and spinning on his heal, turned to walk down a darker alley. "Damn hill dwarves..." cursed the noble as he wiped his hand on the brick wall of a house as he listened to the gruff chuckling fall in time with the clomp of dwarven boots. * * * * * * * * Rathanael stifled a yawn and thought about a nice warm bed to curl up in and a soft pillow beneath her head. It had been quite some time since she'd enjoyed either, and she was looking forward to it--if the inn she'd been told about was any good, of course. Rath wandered sleepily through the streets in the direction she'd been told she'd find the inn. "Well, well, well..." a voice drawled in the vicinity of Rathanael's right ear. "Look what we have here! Are you lost, little girl?" Rathanael bit back a curse. While she'd wandered with her head in the clouds, a group of about six rough-looking men had closed in on her. "I must be more tired than I thought," she muttered under her breath. "Or else I've gone soft!" "Not so little!" a second man was saying. Rathanael didn't like the look of his lascivious grin. "You look like you could use a good man to protect you," the first man said. "A pretty thing like you ought not be wanderin' the streets this time o' night!" "You applyin' for the job, Mack?" one of the others jeered. "Maybe she doesn't want protectin'," another chimed in. Abruptly rough hands seized Rathanael and pushed her back against the wall. A middle-aged man with a sizable paunch pushed against her, his stubbled face so close to Rathanael's that she could smell the onions he'd had with his supper. "Come on, lass, and give us a kiss," the man slurred. * * * * * * * * Maurkel clomped noisily in his dwarven boots through the puddles that littered the unkept alleyways. He smiled as he reflected on his carefree days as a child, splashing joyfully through the world's forgotten lakes. He remembered other times, though, that weren't so joyful. He quickly changed his train of thought to the new tasks at hand. He grimaced at the prospect of long hours promised by stake-outs and patterning. Six thousand gold pieces! It would be well worth the cramped muscles and boredom. His thoughts wandered for a time, but he was quickly brought back to reality as he rounded the corner. "Careful, Jace, you might break the pretty doll!" The other men laughed and jeered as the one called Jace tried to kiss Rathanael. She calmly evaded his searching lips and kneed him in the groin; with a groan, he went down on his knees. Maurkel slipped back into the shadows of the building and watched with an amused grin. This should be entertaining, he thought as he watched the man roll around on the ground in obvious pain. "More like she'll break him," one of the men said as they all stopped laughing. Most of them reached for a dagger or two as they gathered in a circle around Rathanael. "This doll thinks she's made of steel, it seems." "I would advise you to seek some other form of entertainment," Rathanael said haughtily. She glanced down at Jace, who seemed about to get up and retaliate. Before he could do so, she kicked him in the face; he sprawled on the ground, moaning and clutching his bloody nose with one hand and his groin with the other. "'Ere, now, that's enough of that," one of the men said firmly, stepping forward to grab Rathanael's arm. She evaded him and reached for a sword that wasn't there--and abruptly it *was* there as she drew Cylanor from its invisible scabbard. The sword flared to life with a flash of bright green. it hissed coldly in Rathanael's head. Rathanael admonished firmly. "I don't want to hurt you," she said aloud to the five remaining men; they gazed at her in astonishment. Off in the shadows, Maurkel the dwarf tugged at his beared excitedly and fingered the mace that hung at his side. The man who had tried to grab Rathanael's arm closed his gaping mouth. "That's a pretty trick, that is," he said. "Got any more little tricks up your sleeve?" The other four laughed uneasily, keeping their distance from the sword. "I know an illusion when I see one," the first man said confidently, reaching for Rathanael's arm again. The sword flashed like lightning and the man went down, blood gushing from his slashed throat. the sword exulted. "Gods, she nearly took 'is head off!" one of the rest of the group gasped. Another man aimed a dagger at Rathanael's heart. It clattered harmlessly to the ground a foot from its mark, and she smiled coldly at the man who'd thrown it. "'Ere, lady, we meant no 'arm," a third man said, dropping his dagger and stepping away from Rathanael. "We was just out for a bit o' fun, is all." He turned and fled into the dark city streets. "I'd advise the rest of you to follow your friend," Rathanael said. Suddenly she was very weary. "I don't really feel like playing anymore." "Yeah..." one of the men muttered, his eyes on the sword. He backed away and disappeared. One by one the remaining men followed--including Jace, who somehow scrambled to his feet and took off after his friends. Rathanael cursed softly and glanced at the sword. The blood from the man she'd killed was gone, having been absorbed by the blade. She sheathed it with a sigh and stepped over the body of the fallen man. Suddenly Rathanael noticed a shadowed figure watching her from a short distance. She placed her hand on Cylanor's now-invisible hilt. "If you want to try something, you'd better hurry up and do it," she said in a clipped voice. "I'm tired, and I don't feel like hanging around here all night." A gruff snort sounded from the shadows of a nearby building. "Aye, lady. This ain't no place for a woman." The dwarf grinned as he stepped into the light. He tugged nervously on his beard, "'specially one as weary looking as yourself. If'n your up to a bit of a hike, I'd be happy to lead ya' to a place to rest your head." Rathanael tilted her head and stared at the short, muscular, bearded creature in front of her. He didn't smell quite human, but he didn't smell like anything else she'd ever encountered, either. Was he trustworthy? She had no way to judge. "I'd be grateful to you," she said at last. "As long as it's clean, I don't care how far away it is. I've had a rather busy day." She smiled ruefully. He glanced at the body of the fallen assailant, now quiet in a pool of blood, and then in the direction of his fleeing companions. "Damn lucky for them *I* wasn't here! Wouldn't have left a one standin'." He grinned maliciously and shook his mace in the air. Rathanael followed his glance. "I've seen too much bloodshed lately," she murmured softly. "There was a time when I would have chased them down, every one of them, to make them pay for the insult--but I've learned my lesson long since." She shook her head to clear the memories, then looked back at the stranger. "By the way--what's your name?" she asked in a stronger voice. "Oh?! My name? Maurk." He exclaimed and extended his pudgy little hand. "Maurk Ironrok." Rathanael smiled and took the proffered hand. "I'm Rathanael ev'Rhiannon," she said. "Though you can call me Rath--Rathanael can be a bit of a mouthful." She bit her lip and looked down at the strange creature. "I hope you don't mind my asking, but--what are you, exactly? I'm afraid I'm a bit new around here," she explained apologetically. "I've never seen anything like you before, and you don't sm--ah, seem quite human." "Bah!" spat Maurk. "I AIN'T no human, thank you very much! And you certainly ain't from around here, now are ya's?" "As I said, I am a stranger here," Rathanael replied calmly. "I imagine I have much to learn about this place. Believe me, sir, I meant no offense." He looked at her shewdly. "No matter. I am a hill dwarf." His yellow eyes sparkled at her with pride as he straightened to his fullest height. "Best thing to be around here, if'n you ask me." He grinned. "No one can hold their ale better!" A dwarf... Rathanael had heard the legends, but she had never really thought she'd meet one of that race. On her homeworld, they were all but extinct--none had been sighted since the Battle of Darkhorse Keep, three hundred years before Rathanael's birth. "Yes," Rathanael murmured. "I have much to learn..." <...and to forget.> "But enough chatter," the dwarf said, snapping Rathanael out of her reverie. "We need to get you a'restin'." "Please," Rathanael said with a smile. Maybe she was crazy, but she liked the little fellow. And if he led her into a trap, she had Cylanor and her own magic to get her out of it again. she thought as she followed the dwarf through the maze of streets. ---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*--- [Shifters] Volume 1, Post 3 Copyright (c) 1996. All rights reserved. Prytzouth & Maurkel -- Chad Walstrom -- cwalstro@d.umn.edu Rathanael -- Liana Elandrian -- overholt@mhc.mtholyoke.edu ---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---*---