Project 3 – Continuations – Part One

Poi’chi’rak, a once mighty city but now only ruins where the place where they had sent him. The dwarf looked around as he dismounted from the Raven Skeeter. Even though the city was just ruins it was inhabited – no place in Sancho that didn’t provide cover from the poisonous swamps and forests was uninhabited. Few in this pit of a hole had the resources let alone the skills necessary to build roofs or reinforce walls so most of the cover they had were worn blankets or tightly bundled big stone leafs. People, mutants, and spawns were living in holes in the walls, in corners or just a nook where they could get some cover and hopefully hide.

He could feel the strong scent of trash, excrement and urine amongst other vile stenches he couldn’t even identify nor would he want to. And in this place he was meant to find something? Amongst the crawling masses of lowest scum in the land? He grinded his teeth in frustration as he started stalking down the street. Without the syndicates to back up things and keep at least pretence of order and stability one could barely gain respect at all in rubbish heaps such as these.

And without respect and order people would act irrational and strange and not listen to reason. Even the mightiest would turn savage in these circumstances. And those sane enough to try to keep their sanity would go away or come here to be hidden. So that’s was what he was going to look for. People that came here came to hide and didn’t want to be found. People who most likely would kill on the spot if they thought he were here to search for them. Nobody hid in Sancho without good reason, and those coming to places outside the reach of the syndicate had even greater reasons. Reasons they would gladly die for instead of facing worse…

The sky was a greenish black as it tended to be close to an acid swamp or green lake. He thought it was close to evening but he couldn’t tell. The clouds were too thick so he couldn’t determine what time of the day it was. He grinned, finally some positive news. If he couldn’t tell, most likely few others could tell without a watch, and good luck finding things like that here. Without sense of time it was easy to manipulate people. He rubbed his hands together with a wide grin – time to go to work!

***

“Who are you now again?” the ragged man asked him again shooting suspicious glares at him again. The dwarf sighed, the past few weeks he had worked these men and even so the suspicion was high. He didn’t blame them though, this place obviously was dangerous. He was sure that his last informant that’s been here had been here on organ business. Which often meant people here ended up as reserves for Mutants or worse.

“I am dwarf Bou, remember me? I got you those caskets of outlander wine just yesterday?” he said with a faint but nervous smile. To add to the image he trembled slightly and let his eyes flicker. The man bought it and barked a grim laugh.

“Ya, I remember now dwarf,” he said but repositioned his spiked cudgel a little. Bou shuddered and licked his lips. The guard smiled, pleased that he had succeeded to intimidate him before he lifted up the little spring that kept the hidden stairwell closed. Soon Bou was walking down a narrow stairwell made out of stone but heavily damaged from the Shadow knows what. Behind him walked another guard – what an insult! – but he kept going. They only had one torch but he could easily destroy it if it would come to a fight. And in a close stairwell as this, he would win without a fight to speak of.

They reached the bottom of the stairs which opened up to an old wine cellar, though the wall had collapsed in some places and piles of dirt and mud covered the floor. They had put lanterns in every corner of the room and it seemed like they had dug up every tile in the floor too and repositioned them. Either they wanted him to tread lightly or they had prepared some emergency system there.

The room was far from empty though, there were piles with what seemed to be junk randomly placed here and there in the room and it seems like blankets and bedrolls where placed where they had space to be. Along the walls and in the corners men, humans, played dice games or sharpened their weapons or brew potions. The fires and all the smells in the room made it almost feel like a tavern or a big crowded family in a cellar after a storm.

“Bou is here to see you, Master,” the guard said as they stood in the opening. Bou tried to look afraid and nervous and used his flicker to count the men in the room. But his eyes stuck at the Master. He had never seen him until today but all he had worked for was to find this man in hopes that he could somehow get the object he wanted. Even if it meant killing him and his men. But the Master was not what he expected. He was long to be a Sanchonit and had black hair, that moved like dark flames! His eyes were deep in their sockets and his small intense eyes seemed only like black dots with a ring of white. He was almost naked, with only some twined cloth around his groin and swaddle around his feet. But his body was covered with, for others invisible angular markings running from his ankles to his forehead. Only someone aligned with the Dark Arts would be able to see those. He swallowed mentally, this could go very wrong.

“I said; why are you here… Bou?” the Master said again, his voice barely a whisper in the room. Everybody had stopped what they were doing and looked at Bou. Usually Bou didn’t care about such things but now countless of possibilities rose in his head and he almost panicked but in the last possible moment he brought forth a shaky smile and let his fear, his real fear, show in his eyes.

“I just wanted protection and to serve, Master…” he said questioningly. Trying to avoid his eyes..

“No you didn’t” the Master said calmly, not taking his eyes from Bou. Bou looked carefully towards him and tried with a stutter; “Wha..att mmakkes you sssay dat, Ma…”

The Master rose to his feet, slowly but determined. His markings started to blacken to an impossible shade. It was a warning. He knew. Bou dropped his act stretching his back calming his face revealing his weapons and releasing his aura. Many in the room drew their weapons and sprung to their feet and the guard behind him drew his dagger, but too late. Bou had already drawn both his Shadow Dirks and swiftly cut of the guards arm seemingly without even moving or looking towards him. The guard fell screaming to his knees with blood from his arm pushing out from his stump, but then the stump began to blacken and his screams became even higher.

He tried to scream for help but everyone in the room stood petrified looking in shock at the man that was being infested by the Shadow slowly transforming to Shadow Liquid. Everyone but the Master, whom still held his eyes. The guard stopped screaming and trashing on the floor as his heart finally gave up, even before his body had been consumed. May the Shadow bless his soul, he thought. And looked at the Master. The Master only nodded.

“It was his own fault,” the Master announced. “He shouldn’t have attacked someone in conference with me,” the men in the room looked at the bubbling pool of darkness that had been the guard and tried to resume what they had done, ignoring Bou.

“So what do you want?” the Master repeated.

“I want to know where I can find the Bracelet of Tochagian Shadowhunter,” he said matter-of-factly. The Master only nodded and said; “And you think that I know where it is?” he asked and this time Bou nodded. The Master looked at him for a long while.

“Who initiated you? Who performed the ritual?” he asked suddenly. What?! Of all things he could ask me, why that? Bou looked at the Master trying to read him but no use. Then he shook his head. “I don’t know. Five men in Shadow Black Robes,” he answered and the Master only nodded.

“The object which you seek is in the Cedar Mountains. I don’t know why you seek it since it has no power. It’s only a trinket, a symbol. No wielding it cannot channel Tochagain’s powers,” he said as he walked to a pile on the floor going through it, searching for something.

“And you are a sage or a man who knows things like this,” Bou asked mockingly. He got a hot glare from the man as he stood up from the pile with a thrashed book in his hand.

“I know this since there are others who have wielded it and have tried channelling its powers,” he explained with annoyance. He didn’t look happy that he had questioned his knowledge; well Bou wouldn’t have been either so he nodded apologetically. The Master nodded and gave him the book.

It was a journal. Not too old, but it seemed to have been through moisture since some pages had been blurred by something and others where only smudges. He didn’t recognize the script, but he would figure it out soon enough. He looked up with a question in his eyes and was met with an angry glare. He averted his eyes, he shouldn’t question the Master about his intentions. If they would fight, the Master would win, he was certain. He must have the knowledge about how to align people to the Dark Arts, he had never seen someone with those marks and from what he know, writing in shadow couldn’t be done on anyone or anything. He bowed to the Master and then he withdrew. He had a book to decipher and a bracelet to find!