Part 1 - Valik was going to die
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The splendid city of Athkatla was asleep. The normally crowded streets now lay deserted, and a sense of emptiness seemed to fill every corner, alley and square of the capital of Amn. Silence reigned, but one man's furtive steps broke the quiescence that hung like a pall over the city. The sky was as black as a cat’s eye, and the darkness above painfully reminded Valik of his own prospect. As he hurried down the street, he looked cautiously in every direction – and twitched at every movement or sound. No man would use the cover of night for honest intentions, so there were no prizes for seeing that this man was up to no good. The truth was, of course, a bit more complicated than that. It always is. But the truth is not always important, and in this case not even relevant. Truth or lies, friendship or betrayal were of no moment. Only the desperate urge for survival mattered.
In every corner he saw death, yet they were but illusions playing tricks on a tired mind. Tension and uncertainty now occupied his whole disposition, overruling and suppressing all remaining wits. The apprehensions grew larger with every second – they grew until the fear finally came true. Just as Valik rounded a corner, he found himself staring straight into the eyes of the ultimate horror. His worst nightmare stood him face to face and his suspicions hardened into certainty. He was going to die.
Overcome with panic, Valik found himself unable to move. The fear had paralysed his muscles. Although he knew his only chance of escaping with his life was to flee, he could not force himself to move. Valik could do nothing but stare at the shadow which now became more and more apparent. The figure was easily recognisable – a fact which only contributed to the dread in Valik’s heart.
The face of the shadow bore no emotion, yet it had a sense of calmness over it. The look in the eyes – green, bewitching and absolutely determined – turned the blood in Valik’s veins to ice. The long reddish hair was ruffled slightly by the wind, and the cloak slowly shifted, but other than that, the figure did not move. It almost appeared to have been petrified at that specific spot a long time ago – or as if it had been standing there for an eternity. Valik realised with abhorrence that despite all his attempts of stealth and discretion, he had been outsmarted. He had skulked around the city trying hard not to be seen, all while the nightmare had been waiting for him right here. But all that was for naught now, and despite knowing how pointless it was, his trembling hand slowly moved towards the hilt of the rusty sword he had obtained a few days earlier.
Finally, the redheaded assassin moved – and he was faster. With a speed that seemed inhuman, he drew his own two blades and bolted forward. A brisk and well placed blow with the flat side of the scimitar disarmed the inexperienced Valik before he even had drawn his own sword from the sheath. Before Valik could even blink, the shadow quickly and efficiently ran the other curved blade through his stomach. Gaping at the ferocity of the attack, surprised and staring, the defenceless man tried to utter a single word, but his voice would not bear it. His mouth started to shape itself to loose a simple moan, but blood gushed up and over the edge muffling the sound. Valik’s last thought before falling backwards was that the figure had, for the first time, averted his eyes. He was dead before he hit the ground.
The figure did not shed any tears for the man he just had murdered. Nor did he feel any satisfaction. He crouched and carefully wiped the sword of the blood on the dead man’s shirt before putting it back into its sheath once again. He remained kneeling besides the man for a few minutes, after which he carefully closed the eyes of the victim. He rose to his feet and slowly began to walk away. His cloak still fluttered in the wind as he paced down the street. He did not look back. He would never do that. Valik would soon fade to a faint memory, and given time, probably fall out of remembrance.
His mind was blank as he wandered along the streets of Athkatla. He had become used to this kind of work – if you ever can get used to it. Nevertheless, the rule was clear; “No one crosses the Shadow Thieves and lives”. Valik had crossed the Shadow Thieves and died. And the last thing he ever saw was the face of Khadion Linvail, son of the Shadowmaster Aran Linvail, and prince of the Shadow Thieves of Athkatla.
Dawn was approaching.
Khadion NPC mod - Team leader, head designer
Hubelpot NPC mod - Team leader, coder
