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Karamus Entry 11
Karamus frowned a bit as he woke up in the usual way in the usual place. Absolute darkness. He tested each hand and each found and as usual, found them bound tightly. “You know… it wouldn’t hurt to have some variety every now and then. Silk instead of metal… wine instead of mud… wenches instead of sodding paladins…” he began to mutter to himself as he relaxed his body against the metal surface. The room was colder than normal and as the cansin looked, the normal fire was nothing but a few embers.
Concern whipped through his mind at the thought of having been left in the room alone, forever. Even being alive for as long as he had been, forever was still a bit of an unbelievable dream in the back of his mind. Certainly those of the adventuring type typically don’t live long lives but those who do tended to be some of the most powerful people in a realm. Karamus only needed to think of uncle Klimmerfall for a perfect example of that. “No, not the person to think of…” he told himself, “He died in a torture…room… just… like… this… one…”
The thoughts of death raced through the old man’s mind once more, conjuring a particular memory of a time when he was in Cauldron. He figured the memory was really brought up during a previous torture session and has just lingered in his mind since. He had nearly died that day, a hair’s breath from slave labor at the feet of a uncaring god in an uncaring environment. Yeap, eternal life was sounding better all the time. Now was a good time as any to reflect…
The incident was preceded by the group’s usual aimless wanderings. My own devices and plans were set in motion once the ring was obtained from Kort’s belongings. Why I did not hold onto that ring myself I will always chide myself over. Must be more forward thinking!
I spent most of my time for the next two or so days at the inn to distance myself from the company activities. I found this to be the best solution so as to not draw attention to my business dealings. Speaking of which, I think my poor underling might need a raise for when I asked for the world, he delivered in excellent fashion. Upon the morning, Maavu had been arrested, Tercival was rumored to be a fake and the half orcs were giddy over the chance to go into Redgorge. Only the last item was left to be uncovered which was delivered on queue.
I received a message from the company that a letter had arrived for me and so on time I arrived and feigned disbelief that the Shadow Academy had made their final demand on my sister. For the most part, everyone was ready to help in my quest to get back to Sigil though the sodding paladin was suspicious of the events but seemed more occupied by the events that had cropped up over town.
When I tried to speak with Ashton about the best means of getting to Sigil and the rest of the group was talking aimlessly like normal, the room was suddenly filled with unholy fire. I had caught a whiff of sulfur just before it went off and my training took over as I dived for cover. From above, a half-orc jumped down from the balcony and began to slice and dice his way through the group with the intent of turning Bransen into a steak dinner. Quickly I moved to flank the assassin, running Nightstar through his side with practiced ease. I had hoped that the half-orc would continue to focus on Bransen so I could continue my assault but for some reason, he suddenly turned on me, brining both blades down and nearly severed both my arms. The room went cold and dark as I sunk to the ground and then I blacked out.
I don’t know how long I was out but when I came to, most of my injuries had been healed but the battle was still raging on. When I looked around, I saw the half-orc charging by me and I quickly got to my feet and chased after him. He didn’t get far as the paladin and I cut him down in short order. Next we both moved on to the archer who was helpless but floating in the air. I switched into my slippers in short order and climbed up where the archer was and slid my rapier into his heart. The wizard managed to get away from what the others had said and all I could do was shrug. “Who wants us dead and how did they know so much about us?” was the universal question.