Dioe/Logs/harrowing-undershard

The Harrowing of the Undershard

Dertan sat on the dark, cherrywood chair, running a kerchief over the blade of his dagger. Soft whimpering echoed from the damp cells deeper in this ancient section of the Undershard which Dertan and his crew had claimed. The sound was so familiar as to be beneath the notice of the Elothean as he glanced at the note and the bulging pouch of platinum Dokoras beside it. The coin would help him win a complete victory over Nerran, the so called "Ferdahl of the Undershard," and keep the filthy S'kra traders at bay, who were no doubt hunting him on account of the contract he failed to complete, when he had to kill several of his prisoners before he could get them to the ships.

The sound of footsteps aroused Dertan from his musings, and he rose to his feet. Four of his thugs escorted an Elven woman into the chamber. She pulled back the hood of her cloak to reveal silvery white hair, and entrancing, violet eyes. Upon her breast was pinned a night blossom. Something about the flower seemed to tickle something in his memory. He recalled it was the sigil of some Elven house or other, but the woman's voice pulled him to the present.

"Greetings, Dertan Aurdru," she said. "You are not easy to find." She bowed her head slightly.

Dertan grunted. "Security's important, as you know."

The woman smiled. "I am told you do excellent work for noble Houses of Ilithi."

"They're not wrong. I'm the best, and we both know your masters ain't gonna do it," said Dertan.

"You have read my proposal then?" asked the woman.

"That's the only reason you're here," Dertan replied curtly. "Ten thousand platinum Dokoras for two Elves. I can pick them up within the next two andu."

Suddenly, one of the thugs beside the silver-haired visitor crumpled to the ground, blood pouring from his eye socket.

"What in Idon's -" Dertan took a step back, but when he turned his attention back to the visitor, he'd found he'd lost sight of her. A second thug gurgled, and the woman stepped out of the shadows. The corners of her mouth lifted in a smile that shimmered with mischief and malice, as she removed her blade from his neck. One of the fallen thugs rose to his feet and grabbed another of Dertan's guards. The arisen thug bit into the guard's neck as she attempted to draw her scimitar. Dertan's golden eyes widened in surprise. His heart pounded in his chest, and he swiftly stepped out of the torchlight, deeper into the chamber. He barely noticed the Elven woman slipping her blade into the abdomen of the last of his guards.

"Damn that traitor!" Dertan thought. "I will make sure she spends the last moments of her life -"

"It's been a while, mate," came a voice from behind him. In the dim light, Dertan became aware of the glimmer of cold, emerald green eyes as a figure stepped from the shadows.

"You're dead for coming to this place! Do you know who I am!?" Dertan shrieked. He focused his mind, and with a fluid movement, sprang toward the intruder, but just before he could plunge his dagger into his foe, his former bodyguard interposed himself, blood still oozing from the hole that had once contained his eye. Dertan's dagger sunk into the flesh of his former comrade, the undead shell sinking to its knees. As Dertan struggled to remove his weapon from the kneeling corpse, he froze in abject terror. The fury and rage of the Elvish man who stood before him overwhelmed all his senses. There was a flash of steel. Dertan looked down, and a pile of entrails sloshed to the ground. Raising his eyes again, he saw a face distorted in wrath, mutated with arcane magic. He heard a roar of unrestrained violence and the sounds of cracking bones, as his consciousness faded into darkness.

***

"Dioe! Enough!" The Elf felt a hand gently restraining his wrist, and he became aware that he was breathing heavily. Dark liquid coated his peacoat and dripped from his hat. "He's dead," Ophiliah quietly said, releasing his wrist. With a wicked grin, she added, "Let's open the cells." She knelt beside Dertan's corpse and plucked a ring of keys from his belt.

Dioe took one last look at the carcass at his feet. Images flashed through his mind: a young woman with black hair, the faint smell of jazmine, a scream. His features flashed with anger. He ground his teeth, and tears flowed from his unmutated eye. He turned quickly away. "Set them all free, and lead them to Zaldi Taipa. I'll find you as soon as I'm done here."

Ophiliah made her way deeper into the chamber, unlocking cell doors, manacles and chains. In quiet words, she told those with enough strength and sanity to follow her if they wished to live. Dioe turned to face the entrance of the tunnel that led to and from the chamber. Arcane energy swirled around him, as he bent all of his will toward harnessing his attunement. He could already hear the footsteps of Dertan's crew moving in his direction. The first three that entered the chamber melted in a burst of acid. Dioe drew his swords and strode into the tunnel, leaving a gruesome trail for Ophiliah and the survivors to follow, as they made their way out of the Undershard and into the morning light.