[O] A Dangerous Line of Duty
Auron Darrk
[OOC: Introduction. This is, for now, an open story. However, due to the
nature of the story I would appreciate being contacted before and drastic
actions are taken. Participation is strongly desired. Timing reference:
this story takes place some time before the "Looking For an Inn" events (see
AFD) and shortly before "A Beginning", but roughly parallell to the AFD thread
"[CM]Heat Escapes"]
[Closed Section: The Prelude]
There was nothing more to doubt: the doorway was there.
//Fools. They would think to keep me from my hunt.//
The magic locks protecting the portal were simple enough to overload. The
doorway, formerly disguised as a simple landscape painting in a gaudy gilded
frame, shimmered to life. Mystical energies crackled within the hidden glyphs
surrounding the portal.
Shadows swam in the inky darkness beyond, gesturing and calling in pleading
tones,
~Join us brother! Set us free!~ they taunted him.
"Enough!" he growled, and released the magic. Screaming without sound, the
shadows fell back, revieling a landscape that would have put the painting to
shame. A few steps away he could see a simple dirt road, and a short fence
beyond that. Ruts ran down the center of the road, narrow and relatively even.
//Wagons. Common, ordinary, horse-pulled wagons. Good. This _must_ be the
place!//
Auron stepped through the doorway and into the sun of a new world. He
turned to find the doorway from this side was a real doorway in a tumbled down
barn. A flick of his fingers and another release of magic returned the portal
back to it's regular mundane purpose.
Pulling his patchwork Mage robe around him, Auron gazed down the path of the
road. There was a village within sight.
//Now. A bath, a night's rest, and we shall see if there are any
star-gazers in this country.// he nodded. He pulled a cloth from one sleeve and
after wetting it slightly, wiped the blood from the sword in his opposite hand.
* * *
A few hours later found him reclining in a chair near the inn's hearth, a
mug of hard cider within reach and the remains of a simple but filling meal
being swept away by a very accomodating wench. He had shed his fur for flesh,
knowing elves were far more common than the Colzar kind, and more likely to be
accepted. He had assumed correctly, judging by the woman's not-so-subtle
advances.
There was the usuall assortment of locals to be found taking their leisure
within the casks of the inn. Farmers, mostly, and a carter or two, he noted.
Simple folk who despite boasts of courage would keep themselves safely from
strangers. That most of them looked toward him suspiciously and all but the
simpering innkeeper and his staff kept away from his end of the common room
confirmed that.
When next the bar wench returned to top off his mug he took her hand gently
and asked, "Tell me, prettiest of maidens, why should a jewel like yourself
stoop to such base servitude? Are you a captive? Enslaved by yon tub-o-lard?"
The girl tittered behind her begrimed hand. "Ah, no sir! He be my
father." Her eyes shined with excitement. "But should ye be seeking a maid to
rescue, I would try so very hard to be in peril!"
Auron laughed with her. "You are such a charmer, pretty miss. Tell me, are
your eyes as sharp as your wit? Have you seen anything or anyone strange
recently?"
The wench considered his question a moment. "Ye could be speaking of any
number of folk, sir. This place be near a Crux. Just this Autumn past we ha'
seen a two-headed serpent with wings fly past, and an army of giants! More
like ye'self too, sir, though they not be as freindly." She winked at him, then
boldly sat in his lap.
"Now that Bard, he was an odd one too. Sang sweet as an angel, but spoke
little, he. Me father tried to int'rest him in staying a fortnight or so, his
songs brought in plenty o' custom. None of that for him, tho. Odd for a
travelling songster not to pause for a sure keeping and the occasional coin! He
didn't even put 'is hat down, that one." She shook her head, wrapping one arm
around his neck and wiggling enticingly.
//That would be him.// Auron decided. //Philanthropic fool.//
"Was he alone?" Auron asked, wrapping one arm around her waste and pulling
her closer.
//Aye, sir. But he spoke of a woman, he did. Sang about her."
The hunter stared into the fire. //Purrzah...// His mind caressed the
name. //But why is she not with him?// "Did his songs sing of her death?"
The girl squirmed, growing impatient. "Nay, sir. Her beauty and love, but
nothing of her fate." She turned to him, her voice dropping to a whisper, "Sir,
if you seek a woman..."
Auron sighed, and downed the last of his cider. He then turned his most
charming smile on the wench. "Why should I seek when I have the most beautiful
within my grasp? Tell, me, fair one," he whispered back, "Are the beds quite
warm here?"
* * *
The next morning, an hour before dawn, he stepped out of the inn and
returned to the road. He had learned relatively little the night before, but
had not expected more. The place the wench had called the "Crux" was a few
miles further down the road, and was most active just at sunrise and sunset.
His curiosity and familiarity of his prey told him to investigate this
phenomenon.
He met no other on the road in that pre-dawn chill, and after a mile of
walking, he took to the air. A few minutes of flight brought him to the Crux.
There was nothing distinguishing to the patch of bare earth, except it's
barreness beside the lush grasses of a meadow. Scuffed tracks all about showed
some traffic must have come through the night before. He could not find a mark
for the doorway he knew must be there.
Rolling back his sleeves, he began the intricate series of ritual gestures
meant to activate the magical portal. "Enoch mach tlee! Th'orin baethe cron.
Taha'r meina talbed! I call upon the shadows of the portal! Bring to me flesh
and blood! Bring to me one to aid my hunt! Sha'haleth! I command!"
The spell said, he sat back to see if there would be any responce.
[Story opens again]
--
Auron Darrk -- Known commonly as "Patch"
“In the lexicon of youth, which fate reserves
for a bright manhood, there is no such
word as -_fail_!”
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