“Lord Percival?” Kadorax inquired from a few paces away. He didn’t want to get too close to the lively captain for fear of being accidentally hit by a pointing hand.
“Yes?” the man quickly answered, turning with a flourish of his embroidered coat. He was about a foot taller than Kadorax, with a bit of deranged mania glinting in his deep blue eyes.
Kadorax wasn’t exactly sure where to begin. “You posted a quest in town?” he started. “About a lycanthrope?”
“Yes,” the captain confirmed, “so I have indeed. And I am to assume you two have come for details, hoping to collect?”
The two had to wait for a moment as the captain directed more of his underlings in the unloading process. “Well, do you have any more details? We’d like to take the quest.”
Percival dug in one of his elaborate pockets for a moment before producing a tightly bound scroll of parchment and handing it over to the adventurers. “The Grim Sleeper has been lawfully commissioned to pursue a foul beast, and her last known whereabouts place the lycanthrope here in Coldport,” he explained. “I’m always looking to augment the Grim Sleeper’s forces with an additional mercenary or two such as yourselves, preferably on the front lines.”
Kadorax unfurled the scroll and held it so the snake-man at his side could read as well. “A woman, middle-aged, from Assir village, seen multiple times in and around Coldport. She’s to be considered extremely dangerous, with unknown allies, advanced levels of illusion magic, and shapeshifting magic usable for limited periods, though the parameters are unknown. The lycanthrope’s last known aliases: Brinn, Brinna, Brianna, Briar, and other derivatives thereof,” the man said, his voice quieting as he read the names at the end of the parchment.
“What say you, fine adventurers?” Percival carried on. “Fancy a werewolf hunt? A little fur to darken your blades?”
“We’ve met that woman,” Syzak hissed. Perhaps it was a product of his former life as a house pet, but whatever the reason, the snake-man hated dishonesty. He had no issue with murder—especially not with murder for hire—but for whatever reason, Syzak loathed dishonesty. He stomped one of his boots on the wooden deck beneath his feet and spat.
“Oh?” Percival raised an eyebrow. “And this were-beast, did you engage her in combat?”
Sighing, Kadorax shook his head. “I saw her stats,” he said. “She was a level five rogue. I recognized her skills as well. I don’t think she’s the target.”
“Illusion magic can be a fickle entity,” the captain said with an almost whimsical air.
Kadorax rubbed a hand on his chin. “Altering her sheet?”
“Is that possible?” Syzak asked.
“I’m not entirely sure…” the other adventurer said.
“Perhaps there is another stealing the name, and you two happened upon the real woman?” the captain suggested while directing one of his crew with a wave.
“The older noblewoman?” Syzak wondered aloud.
Kadorax rolled the scroll and handed it back. “Could be either,” he stated, “or it could be someone else entirely.”
“We’ll root out the werewolf,” Syzak declared with finality. “When is your crew planning to set out?”
Lord Percival issued a sharp whistle, and a person appeared at the nearby railing a moment later. The captain waved, and the figure began slowly walking down the gangplank, though not with the urgency that any of the other crew had shown. When the person reached the dock, she removed her dark hood, revealing a pale, tattooed face belonging to a withered husk of a woman who could only be referred to as human in the most basic possible sense.
“Gentleman, I’d like to introduce the Grim Sleeper, my personal little death artist who happens to lend her name to my ship as well.” Lord Percival placed a hand on the woman’s back, eliciting a slight bow from the seemingly ancient woman, and smiled brightly like he was showing off a prized treasure to an interested buyer.
Kadorax tried to access the woman’s stats, but she clearly didn’t consider him friendly, so her information was hidden. “What a lovely acquaintance,” he said under his breath. The Grim Sleeper’s tattered robe hung loosely from her body. The stillness of it said she wasn’t breathing.
“I bought her for fourteen thousand bars of silver,” the captain boasted. “A rather reasonable price for such a powerful warlock, don’t you think?”
The Grim Sleeper inched forward, and the two adventurers got a strong waft of the grave emanating from her corpse-like body. The woman was like a plague, a moving blight upon the sunny day that doused everything she came near in gloom. The buying and selling of a warlock’s soul, while technically illegal, was something a fair number of the mercenary captains of Agglor practiced. When warlocks became powerful enough, they learned how to place their soul in an enchanted object—a phylactery—and the people who controlled those objects received absolute obedience from their charges.
Aura of Despair: Rank 3 flashed in Kadorax’s vision, listing the effects he was already more than aware of feeling. He took a few steps backward, and the aura vanished from his sheet, sending a palpable wave of relief through his mind.
“If you don’t mind the Grim Sleeper’s company, you may depart with her at once in search of the werewolf,” the captain informed them with a smile. As the warlock’s master, he was clearly unaffected by her aura.
“Actually,” Kadorax said, “we have some gear being made in town. It should be ready tomorrow, then we can leave. Do you have room on your ship for us to stay the night?”
Lord Percival offered an over-exaggerated bow. “By all means! There are bunks on the second deck. You shall find more than enough space near the back, and my crew will give you plenty of privacy, or as much as can be afforded on a ship.”
Syzak hadn’t taken his eyes from the warlock. “She doesn’t stay in the bunk room, right?” he asked, tongue flicking over his scaled lips. Kadorax shared the sentiment.
“I have no need of rest,” the woman spoke. Her voice was icy, fogging the air, and deeper than it should have been, coming from a woman of her frail stature.
“Yes,” Percival added. “She prefers to patrol the top deck at night when we are in port, and woe to any witless thief who tries to break in and steal from the ship’s hold.”
Kadorax didn’t want to think of the horror that would befall some hapless idiot or drunken sailor who happened to stumble onto the wrong ship completely out of innocent mistake. He got the idea the Grim Sleeper wouldn’t offer much mercy on account of circumstance. “Right,” he said, leery as the warlock inched forward. “If there’s anything you need from us this afternoon, my friend and I are eager to get as much experience as we can. We’d gladly carry shipments or help with the rigging so long as the work yields some reward.”
Percival thought for a moment, but it was clear by his expression that he had something in mind. “You two are from the east, yes?” he asked.
Syzak answered in the affirmative.
“I have a collection of star maps—intriguing, really—and they were all compiled in the east. Though my own adventures have taken me far, I simply am not as familiar with the landmarks on that side of the mountains as I am with those on the fairer side. If you two would be willing to take a look at the maps and offer some guidance, I’m sure they would be of some benefit to your Fate scores, yes?” the captain explained.
“Maps?” Kadorax repeated to himself. “We’ve been almost everywhere in the east. I’m sure we could lend a hand.”
The two adventurers spent the afternoon hunched over a cluttered deck with a measuring tape, a rusted goniometer, and more candles illuminating the room than either of them cared to count. As it turned out, the maps Percival had collected correlated to much more than just the stars: they were also oriented toward multiple ancient ruins, sites that Kadorax knew well from his life as an assassin roaming through all of Agglor’s buried places. With the help of the ship’s navigator, a portly elf of at least a hundred years with a beard down
to his belly, the maps were finished not long after midnight, and both Kadorax and Syzak were too tired to pay much attention to the terrifying warlock prowling the deck as they made their way to the bunk house.
When dawn broke, the ship was buzzing with activity once more. The smell of frying pork and seafood filled the oily air, and sailors spared no volume as they shouted to one another over the din of commerce. On the top deck, the glare of the early morning sun off a fresh layer of snow coating Coldport was nearly blinding, especially after being indoors for so long. Near the wheelhouse, Lord Percival had established a breakfast table where sailors came and went as they pleased between their duties. To the starboard side of the wheel, the ship’s cook worked over a grill bolted directly to the railing, allowing the coals beneath the cooking surface to be easily dumped right into the ocean.
Kadorax and Syzak ate their fill with the captain looking dutifully after his underlings from the head of the table. When they were close to finished, the Grim Sleeper ascended the stairs next to the wheelhouse like a wraith stalking a victim. Her feet didn’t seem to move, and her bedraggled, wispy hair flew in odd directions contrary to the wind.
“We must stage our onslaught soon,” she announced with enough force to draw the attention of the three nearest crewmen as well as her intended audience.
Everyone at the breakfast table stood. “Well, you heard it, gentleman,” the captain said, rubbing his hands in front of his chest to ward off the cold sting in the air. “We do have a brig here aboard the Grim Sleeper which you’re more than welcome to use, though the contract does require me to produce a werewolf’s head, so I’m not positive how exactly you might come to need such a space.”
“We’ll take care of it in town, hopefully quietly,” Kadorax answered. He had a strong stomach for torture, of that there was no doubt, but the prospect of being in a confined space below deck with the Grim Sleeper was something he wanted to avoid if at all possible.
“Excellent,” the captain said with a smile.
“To the wolf,” the warlock groaned, turning her back and gliding down the stairs. Kadorax and Syzak followed her—though not very closely—all the way to the edge of downtown Coldport, if the village could be said to have such divisions. With the driving cold, there weren’t many villagers about in the streets. Those who caught more than a passing glimpse of the warlock hurried their steps, suddenly aware of a new chill in the air that was a bit too much for their taste, sending them running for the refuge of the indoors.
“Lady Brinna’s estate isn’t far,” Kadorax stated. He felt a twinge of guilt for going after his recent employer, but he held no love for werewolves either. Such shapeshifters were somewhat rare in Agglor, though all of them—at least all that were known to the public—were violent beasts deserving of death.
Moving quickly, the two adventurers took the lead, though they headed toward Ayers’ smithy before the estate.
Kadorax made the warlock wait outside in the cold. It didn’t appear as though she minded.
“Your boots are ready,” the smith said upon recognizing Kadorax and Syzak. He lifted two pairs of heavy boots, leather shod with iron, and dropped them onto the counter.
Even before picking them up, Kadorax could tell they had been enchanted. “You’ve put a bit of magic in them?” he asked. As an assassin, he had always been wary around things that looked too much like gifts. Those gifts had more often than not turned out to be traps.
Ayers came around the counter and slapped the smaller man on the back. “You saved my life,” he reminded Kadorax. “I had some extra runic thread in the back, and I figured you could use it. But don’t get too excited. I’m not some master-level enchanter from the king’s court. I’m just a blacksmith from a small village who likes to dabble.”
Kadorax focused in on the boots, and their magical properties displayed in his vision:
Steady Boots - Increases the wearer’s Agility score by 2. Passive while worn.
“Hey, those aren’t bad,” Kadorax remarked with sincerity. “Thanks a lot.”
When the two of them had ditched their shoddy cloth boots and secured the enchanted footwear to their feet, they thanked the smith once more and returned to the blustery cold.
“To the estate,” Syzak said with dark determination. “How will we know the woman is the wolf?”
The Grim Sleeper turned her hideous visage upon the adventurers, stepping too close for a moment and affecting them with her powerful aura. “I can taste fear,” she declared. Her voice rattled in her dry throat. “The lycanthrope will show herself through her terror.”
Kadorax tried to think of a spell or ability that would allow the warlock to literally taste fear, but he didn’t know any off the top of his head. He also wasn’t sure if the strange woman was even capable of hyperbole, or if perhaps she held some magical item that augmented her perception. “I’m pretty sure both of them will be terrified,” he finally stated.
The group moved stoically through Coldport’s streets. When they reached the estate, the Grim Sleeper wisely stepped back and around a corner, remaining just barely out of view. Kadorax could only hope her aura didn’t extend too far through the walls of the house to reach anyone inside.
The door opened, and the younger Brinna was there to greet them. She wore a grey cotton tunic and matching pants, looking sleek and rogue-like in the early morning sun. “Gentleman,” she said with a bit of surprise. “Please, come in out of the cold.” She held the door open just enough for the two adventurers to walk past into the opulent foyer.
“We have some grim news,” Kadorax said once the door was shut to the blustery air outside. Without any magically enhanced method of detection, he had no other way to root out the lycanthrope, so he figured throwing it out in the open and judging the woman’s reaction would have to be good enough.
Brinna looked curious, though she did not respond.
“We were just hired to find a werewolf hiding in the city,” Kadorax went on. “Do you know anything?”
The woman placed a hand over her chest in surprise, and her eyes became large, a reaction that appeared genuine. “You’re serious?” she almost gasped.
Kadorax nodded.
“In Assir, some of the villagers claimed they had seen such a creature, but I never believed their stories. Some of the older folk liked their ale a bit too much, you know? If it is true…”
“We’ll find the beast,” Kadorax told her. “But there’s something else.” He stepped close enough to hear her breathing, listening for any signs of authentic fear or surprise. “The shapeshifter has been using your name, or that’s what the report claims. What do you know?”
Brinna’s breath hitched in her throat for a split second, and that was enough of a reaction for Kadorax to believe the woman was not their target. “My name?” she said. “You’re positive?”
Kadorax ushered her closer with a hand. “I believe it isn’t you,” he said, eliciting a nod of agreement from the snake-man at his side. The two had carried out enough interrogations together, albeit usually with the aid of magic, to have come to the same conclusion. “Exactly how much do you know about your mother? That’s our next best lead.”
“No! Sh—” Brinna gasped, but she cut off her own words before they became loud enough to alert whoever else was in the estate. Her eyes darted to the door on her right.
Silently, Kadorax motioned for Syzak to peer through the crack in the door. When the shaman confirmed the other room to hold no danger, all attention turned back to Brinna.
“She would never…” the woman whispered.
Kadorax wanted to believe her—the woman had lost so much recently that the death of her mother would probably be impossible to bear—but he trusted the report from Lord Percival more than the words of a distraught daughter. “She’s in the house?” he asked quietly.
Brinna nodded. She pointed to the door on her right. “The room beyond the parlor, through there,” she said.
“Good,” Kadora
x replied with a nod. “First, we need to figure out if she’s actually a lycanthrope. Have you noticed anything strange? Anything strange—”
“Like killing villagers and eating them raw?” Syzak interjected, his scaled mouth curling into a snarl.
The woman shook her head. Her eyes didn’t leave the floorboards under their feet. “I’ve only been here a day, and I’m scheduled to leave this afternoon. I have to get to the capital before Assir is lost to the Wasting Sickness. If my mother is a werewolf, I… I don’t know.”
“A house like this, few visitors, a remote village; she could be killing people here and hiding the evidence in this very estate. We should investigate,” Kadorax stated. It had been several years, but he and Syzak had completed very similar quests in the past—hunting humans who had appeared completely normal but were suspected of harboring dark secrets.
“Where would she hide something she wanted absolutely no one to find?” Syzak whispered.
Brinna turned and led them to another room deeper into the estate. The second area was a kitchen larger than most houses, and a few loaves of baking bread filled it with a sweet and savory aroma. “There’s a basement,” Brinna said, her eyes watching the doorway. “Perhaps you’ll find evidence there.”
“And her personal room?” Syzak asked.
“On the second floor. I can show you,” she answered.
Kadorax had the higher Spirit score of the two, so his perception would naturally be better, though not by much. “I’ll take the basement, you take the room,” he said.
“Be quick,” the snake-man agreed. “I don’t want our friend waiting too long and getting bored. Meet here or out front as soon as you can.”
Brinna pointed Kadorax in the direction of the basement staircase, and he darted for it at once.
The cellar beneath the estate was dark and wet, full of wooden crates, shelves stacked with food and other mundane items, and a handful of dangling spider webs. Using what meager light drifted down from the kitchen above, Kadorax found a candle mounted to a metal tray on one of the nearby shelves. It took him a few moments longer to find the firesteel resting nearby, and then another minute or so to finally get the candle to light.
Killstreak Book One Page 6