Thread: Life's Journey (The_Gladiator & darkangel76)

In life there are two sides to every coin, summer and winter, light and dark, black and white. Some philosophers might say that such balance is necessary. Others sought to skew the balance in one direction or the other. For most citizens of Ersheath, what they came in contact with on a daily basis was the light, the kinder side of humanity. They saw the good people such as the kings and his royal knights. They heard stories of the beautiful priestesses of the order of trine. However life always sought balance, and to balance the scales of life in the kingdoms of ersheath were the thieves guilds. There were thieves guilds or outposts of such in almost every major city. The two largest were in gomgoroth the capital itself, and the second largest was in belbarren major. In the small town of belbarren minor, wherein our story begins there was an outpost of the despurden thieves guild. Loosely translated from the dark elf tongue with which the guild masters had drawn its name, Despurden meant Victors of the darkness. Whether the despurden guild, based out of Belbarren major, had a connection with those illusive and wicked drow elves was anyones guess. After having found a room in a small inn for the lady Rhonwhyn to sleep, Torth had left his post at her door. Ostensibly he was going to get a glass of wine from the common room, or at least thats what he wanted people to think. In actuality he had seen something on their walk through the town, he had seen signs, and been approached by what seemed to be a beggar. He had shoved the man away from the lady Rhonwhyn all the while accepting a piece of paper from the beggar out of view of his charge. In a stolen moment when the lady Rhonwhyn had stopped to buy a fresh baked loaf of bread, he had unfolded the piece of paper with trembling fingers. It held only two things, a time of night, and a place, the common room of a particular inn he knew well from his previous trips throughout the kingdom. The thieves guild had business with him, and he suspected what the despurdens wanted with him. The trafficking in slaves was not uncommon in the land of ersheath, although it was done in private, in the dark, far far from the eyes of the king and his pesky ever nosey knights. Most of the slaves taken were women, and beautiful women at that. Women trained in the arts of sex were also prized, and even more so women who were thusly trained but did not look like the washed up whores they were. A woman, who embodied all of these criteria, was very very rare. Torth knew all these things, and knew therefore what the despurden guild probably wanted with him. A slow smile had split his lips, it only came down to how much would it be worth to them? Women like the Lady Rhonwhyn were very very rare. He knew well that the priestesses of Trine were trained in the art of pleasing a man, for was not one of the roles of a woman to be a lover in the eyes of the goddess? Yet, the lady Rhonwhyn also looked pure and beautiful, she had not spent years on her back pleasing men for money in a brothel, as one might expect a women with the priestess of Trines love making ability to have done. Torth had to fight back a chuckle at the thought of where this spoiled noble woman would end up. It turned out that she would spend her days on her back, or her hands and knees, or just on her knees, after all. All this and more flitted through Torths head hours later after he had met with the cloaked and hooded emissary from the guild, and then later had accepted his payment. Now he was free of her spoiled ass, and off for the open road on his own. What would he tell the temple when he returned there? Should this one be eaten by sea monsters? Killed by bandits on the road, he would have to come up with a good excuse why yet another charge had died on his watch. Lost in his inner thoughts he did not see the figure that stepped out in front of him as he stepped into the alleyway behind the inn. The figure was all in black, which matched the raven locks of hair he kept, cut short. Revealing the delicate points of his ears. There was only one such elf in the area, a half-elf to be exact. His suspicions were confirmed as his eyes flicked to meet the cold gray eyes of the man before him. They were cold eyes, dead eyes, eyes that showed no emotions. They were eyes in which Torth saw his death. He croaked one word, a name, Brandon. In his head he filled in the details that he could not manage to voice, Brandon the black hearted he was known as. Although it was rumored that his given name was Taurean, and that he perhaps had a secret elvish name that no one knew. Not accepted in the human kingdom of Ersheath, nor the elves of kierielle, Brandon had found a home in the underworld. In those last seconds of his life, Torth wondered how he had warranted being killed by one of the most notorious assassins and bounty hunters in the entire kingdom. Something more was going on here than he had thought, and in those last seconds he knew that he had gotten himself in way over his head. Taurean left the filth behind in the darkened depths of the street running behind the inn. Sliding his dagger back into his belt, the half elf let his eyes sweep over the surrounding buildings waiting watching. This job was only half finished. Killing the worm hadnt really been part of the job he had set himself, but it had been satisfying, filthy slime deserved to die. No the real mission was still ahead of him, for he knew Grennen would be emerging from the inn soon with the lady. His fingertips lovingly stroked the handle of his dagger, its smooth surface more familiar to him than the flesh of any lover. The irony was not lost on him that he was hunting individuals that most would expect to be his allies. His lip curled with disgust, these idiots were filth, he allied himself with them usually yes, but all knew befriending him was like sleeping with a viper, it was only a matter of time before you got bitten. Taurean took contracts from the highest bidder, and if that meant one day he killed his former employer, so be it, it was all the same to him, money. Everyones head had its price. That being said, he particularly relished this job. There were lines even the heartless vigilante wouldnt cross, and Taurean did not deal in the torture or enslavement of women. His gray eyes constantly scanned the surrounding cityscape waiting for his quarry to appear. He knew he probably could not kill Grennen right away, the half ogre would not be easy to kill, and Taurean did not want a fight on the open streets either. He would watch and follow. He would take the brute on the open road, in the trees, which were much more the half-elfs element than the lumbering giant of a half-ogre Grennen. Taurean could only hope that the despurden enforcer did not have a group of companions waiting for him, that would only complicate the situation.