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Darian Alderleaf

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1Darian Alderleaf Empty Darian Alderleaf on Thu Dec 04, 2014 11:08 am


Dungeon Master
Dungeon Master
The coin flips....

The sun gleams off the beautifully etched picture of the smiling woman's face in the silver coin.

Darian stretched out his legs, he was sore. He was more worn down in these last few days than anything had done to him previously. His back popped as he stood and stretched his thick hands towards the sky.

“Curse of Beshaba” He muttered under his breath, noticing how it materialized into small transparent wisps in the cold morning air as he spoke. It was getting colder, too cold to be sleeping outside.

The dead still lay close enough to where he camped that he could smell the stink coming off of the goblins. They smelled almost better in death, as if the very breath that came out of them was worse than their unwashed skin.

He had lost his two closest, hell only, friends last night in the ambush. Tameran and Rendall had fought well. Each taking 3 of the little green bastards with them before falling to the damned bugbear's javelin and morning star. The attacks had definitely been increasing lately, just as the Lord's Alliance said they were. The fighting paid well at least, even if their current efforts seemed to be ineffectual at curbing the raiding. The mining guild had chipped in as well to help protect their traveling miners.

Darian looked around at his makeshift camp and the three spent bottles of healing potion that lay strew around. He kicked one of the bottles and the left over liquid glowed dull in the shadows of the forest. He was lucky to have made the night without being eaten by wolves or ambushed again. The wounds he suffered before ingesting the thick red concoction, and passing out, had been mortal. Rubbing the face of Tymora in his pocket he silently thanked the Goddess for her protection. He would have to make his way back to Phandelin on his own, sticking to the tree line to avoid another ambush. The guild and Iarno would want to hear about the bugbear appearing in the area...

The coin flips.....

Catching the light is the tail side of the coin. The clouds look a little darker, and Tymora's face is hidden.

Darian opened his eyes. Winter was definitely here now. His nose was freezing cold and his feet that stuck out the bottom on the blanket were numb. He could feel the warm coming of off Quelline beside him, smell her sweet hair, and faintly hear her soft breathing. He swung his feet out of bed and went to check on his sleeping son in the next room over. As he stood silently in the early morning overcast light he thought about his life.

Qelline was keeping up well with the farm, but it didn't pay near well enough to cover the expenses and pay off the Redbrands. He knew how much she hated him going off to work for the Lord's Alliance and freelancing out to the Mining Guild, but how else was he going to make ends meet? He sighed heavily and lowered his eyes to his bare feet and the well kept wooden floor.

Why had Iarno not looked surprised about the bugbears in the area? Why had the old bastard been so hard to find? He was almost always beside that worthless excuse of a mayor. Not only had the old wizard not been surprised, but he seemed almost agitated at Darian bringing it to his attention.

“He paid you didn't he? Stop worrying so much! They don't pay you to figure things out, they pay you for your skill with that dagger and crossbow...” He muttered quietly as he tried to work things out in his head.

As he turned to look out the main room window he caught movement in the low light out of the corner of his eye. The hair on his neck stood instantly and his blood went cold. Crouching, he backed up to the wall between the two bedroom doors. Placing his hands on the cool wood and he silently slid towards his room, and the dagger he kept there. He counted the boards as the silently moved under his fingertips. 1....2.....3.... he knew every inch of the house intimately. He had built it with own two hands after marrying Qelline.

He reached the door jam, straining his eyes in the slowly brightening light. Had he even seen anything?

He froze. Barely breathing with his right hand curled around the open door frame.

The shadow was there. In the window. It hadn't moved the entire time, but now he could make it out, and was sure. He spun, diving through his door for his dagger, opening his mouth to scream to wake his wife.

The crossbow bolt passed through his throat before the air from his lungs could form anything more than a gurgle in the gush of blood. As he clawed towards the dagger on the floor under his bed his vision went red and pain screamed anew through his left leg as another bolt struck him. Straining against the leg that was pinned into the floor of his family's house he willed himself to reach the blade.

The silver coin tumbled out of  his pocket, and quietly pinged on the wood.

Qelline awoke to Carp's cries twenty minutes later. The sight of her only son holding her dead husband's head shocked a gasp from her lips. The morning sun was hidden by clouds, and a faded red strip of cloth, tied to the front door, fluttered in the light breeze.

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