Rise of the Thrall Lord
Tarrsmorr Tales I - Sollaris' Sojourn at the Gilded Swan
Sollaris’ Sojourn at the Gilded Swan
An Old Talespinner Tale
As the noble Siegfried helped the owner of the Boars Head air out his commons room and settled his staff and self for the evening, he did not notice that the quiet Elf had wandered off. Sollaris Evermeet had some experience with bringing evil Mage’s their due, and he had set out to do just that. Earlier he had glimpsed the edge of the cleric’s symbol from where it was canceled beneath his black tabard, and it has the look of something not quite holy.
After casing the Gilded Swan, and easily avoiding the henchmen the other party had left outside the Inn, Sollaris located a likely second story window in the rear from which the faint sounds of chanting and odd moaning could be heard.
Ascending quickly and quietly the roof, Sollaris patiently waited for the chanting to cease. Then descending to the window he easily unlocked the shutters, but unfortunately, the Goddess of Luck played her fickle tricks, and the disengaged latch fell to the floor with a clatter. Seeing the shadows of someone approaching the window, Sollaris quickly moved to an open window on the far side of the back wall and went in. A portly Friar whose snores could have drowned out the tramping of twenty or more elves occupied the room.
Sollaris moved with ease across the room and into the empty hall beyond. Quickly and quietly unlocking the first door he found brought Sollaris into the room occupied by the remainder of the mercenaries and henchmen of the flagitious party. Luckily, they were all fast asleep, and Sollaris crept to the next room.
The latch of the next door yielded as easily to Sollaris’ deft touch as all the others, but perhaps some strange curse placed upon the room by its unholy occupants caused the loud creaking of the door as he pushed it open only enough for a peek. And unholy the scene within truly was.
The three of the four within were dressed in black robes of a shimmering gossamer material. The man nearest the bed had the unholy symbol of Amon, Lord of Darkness held high in his left hand while his right held a blood-stained dagger that had an immediate malignant aura about it. The unholy symbol seemed to radiate darkness if such was possible, or perhaps it was hungrily devouring even the small light given off by the two braziers of incense that lit the room. The other two in black were gazing at the ritual with such rapt and evil voracity that even the fair Enchantresses features could not hide the ugliness of her soul. But the fourth individual in the room was the most disturbing of all. Poor Smigg the guardsman was bound to the bed and gagged. His torso crisscrossed with baleful runes in his own blood barely moved with stir of breath.
It was all clear in a split second, and Sollaris began to retreat further into the dark hall, hoping to gather the forces of good to battle these blackguards. But the crepuscular cleric had dropped the ceremonial dagger and was making spell preparations, as were the two mages; there was little hope for a quiet exit. Sollaris rapidly cast Sleep and began to realize the danger of his situation when his spell was only strong enough to drop one of the room’s occupants, the female enchantress. The caliginous cleric’s spell went off and the air began to thicken around Sollaris until he could not move. Then the contemptuous cleric casually hauled Sollaris into the room and latched the door.
“Luckily I have a spare set of manacles just for extra guests who might drop in” he gloated as he propped the benumbed Sollaris against the wall. He then propped his male companion against the same wall with derisive chuckles, and went over to gleefully grope the magically slumbering enchantress.
“Your foolish arrogance will be the end of you” thought Sollaris thinking how it was indeed lucky that he had only the simple lock of the manacles between him and that foul man’s exposed back instead of a sturdy rope. He was right about the villain’s end, but not the manner. For unknown to either Sollaris or his perverse captor, Riley O’Murphy and his cat were at that very moment sharing a round of Riley’s infamous amber beverage with a portly Friar only two rooms away.