"Always shoot to kill."
That was the first peice of advice from my instructer so many years ago, in between his sodden sobbing over his lost wife and downing five pints of Sewer Brew in one sitting. It was that same day that he told me to discard the childhood nicknames that my friends had given me and granted me the honored name of Ol Olithvope... and the day that he showed me how quickly a person can kill a man who laughed at another's misfortune.
I hated it at the time, that name. The first bit, sport, it was his nickname for me. A honorific, given to the penniless street urchin who had followed him home in hopes of getting a bit of bread after being given a silver to deliver a message. The second was his and his alone, the title given to him by the victims of his blade in a distant kingdom. He was a killer, or an assissin as he preferred it. Giving that name to me was his way of branding me as his, after accepting my pleas to be his student. Sometimes, I think it might have been his secret way of punishing me for impudence, although the grizzled dwarf would never admit it.
Still, I can't say his training was poor. He taught me uncountable ways to kill another man bare-handed. He introduced and perfected my accuracy with a bow until it was first passable, and eventually somewhat uncanny. Most importantly, he taught me how to hide properly. He taught me how to blend myself not only into the shadows, but how to avoid detection in any light, in any surroundings, and with any number of other people around. Be it in a crowd of people, or in a niegh-barren room of a dwraven peasent, he taught me how to avoid being seen, so that I could follow his second and third cardinal rules: "Never fight a fair fight." and "Always be ready to run."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
His advice, naturally, had led me to Materonmo. A small outpost set on the eastern edge of Stalconleba, the armored plain, a few hours walk from the capital. More accuratly, it led me to The Glacier of Wandering, a tavern owned by the mayor and spearmaster of Materonmo, Mata Emsiibon.
Mata hadn't noticed me entering the building, however when I tapped his shoulder to get his attention at first his shock quickly turned into a grin of delight. His four false wooden teeth squelching in their sockets.
"So, you are the boy sent by the Olithvope eh?" He greeted me with a solid clap on the back, the force behind his arms almost enough to send me over the railing. "A good man, that dwarf, always keeps his word. Although I had expected someone a bit... tougher. Oh well, I suppose you will have to do."
I forced back his infectious smile, trying to keep my gaze averted from the rotting ceder in his mouth. "You have a job right? I'm not wasting my time here?" I wanted to spend as little time there as possible, he was disgusting.
Mata grinned wider, his arm reaching down a picking a small piece of sausage out of his breastplate that had been caught there. "My my, you are forthright. Fine. I have a job for somone with your... skills. If you take it I will make it worth your while."
"I know, what do you want?"
Mata gave me a long, hard look, his smile dropping for a far more serious and less disgusting frown. "You are insufferable, whelp, I want you to kill the Merchant Princess Ama Tarnishshields."
"What is the reward?"
"One weapon from the forge in Tuskevened." he drew a tattered peice of parchment from his armor and wrote a brief note. The paper was so yellow from sweat that I dared not think of what he had used it for in the recent past. "Show this to him, he will give you what you desire... within bounds."
Suspicious of the treatment, I looked the disturbing man in the eyes, noting a wide twich under his left eyebrow. "Why not do it yourself? You are clearly powerful enough." I stated it as a fact, rather than a question. Allowing my tone to provoke a response as Urist had taught me.
Mata gave me a cold stare now. His ire, and my pleasure in conjunction, clearly growing as I spent time asking him questions rather than following his instructions. He had to know I was not going to be his simple drone, to order about as he saw fit. "I have... responsabilities. Killing the merchant princess personally would invite her family against me, as well as giving her permission under law to both lay a bounty on my head and to lay sanctions against Materonmo. I can't give her what she deserves personally for what she has done to my family because of class restrictions, so I am hiring you. Are you happy now... Ol?"
"Fine, I accept your terms. I will not return untill the deed is done." I said simply, smiling within as I ran my hand along the lower edge of my bow. Perhaps this man would be useful in the future as a contact... provided I gave him what he wanted. Yes... perhaps...
Author
Topic: Death and Glory! (Read 58222 times)