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Part Two
By: Adam Janus
In sharp contrast to the dwarf’s calm preparations Sarel paced back and forth past the cave’s entrance like a caged animal. Wearing soft, well traveled leather boots and dyed black sheepskin pants, the frost elf barely made a sound except for the scraping grind created by the stone he used to compulsively sharpen his throwing knives which he wore in belts that criss-crossed his chest, under his light leather vest and over a white linen shirt. Khaz had noted a change in his friend since their meeting with the druidess. Sarel had withdrawn within himself at the reminders of his dark heritage. A fire smoldered behind his almond-shaped, sky blue eyes in anticipation of possible violence and death.
As the sun set in the west stars began to appear in the darkening sky above Khorian bay. Under cover of darkness the pair would make their way south along the coast. With warrior’s stealth they would skirt Isegoth and the ruins to rendezvous with Kimba Truehart and Dev Von Fritz in the ancient cemetery.
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Oiled and sharpened Dev's two handed broad sword lay across the table in front of him torch light dancing along its carefully polished length. Next to it was the short, leaf shaped sword favored by the city guard and easier to use in the close in street fighting and peace keeping.
After escorting Sarel and Khaz back to Dock Street, Kimba returned to go over their plans with the taciturn, former knight. She reached across the table and put her hand on his muscled, gauntleted forearm, "I know what you’re thinking, Dev and you need to let it go," she said to him. "Not everyone that lives outside the law is a criminal; that’s the guardsman in you clouding your better judgment. I have seen into the frost elf's heart; he has forsaken the ways of his people." She then told Dev the unlikely tale of how a druid champion of light and everything good came to befriend a feared, decadent frost elf, denizen's of the night and worshiper's of dark gods and demon lords alike, Hisseesha, Zaranoth and Cruxuzule Mamnibia in the wilds of northern Brynhalla...
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…Tucking her long hair behind her pointed elven ears, Kimba began her tale, “about a decade ago, I was ambushed by a roving pack of brezu. Exhausted as I was, probably the reason the beasts were able to get so close to me, I ran deeper into the foothills of the Graode Mountains. If I could put enough distance between myself and my attackers to "shift" into my cheetah form, I would be able to quickly outdistance them. But they were closing in on me…”
Winded, the fleet footed elfess reached the end of the rocky trail she had been following. Here she could put her back to stone a good defensible place to make a stand. Turning to face her closest assailant, she sent the man-beast a telepathic message; the creature skidded to a halt at the mental barrage. Panting from exertion red tongue hanging out of its mouth between nasty looking elongated canines saliva dripping to the gray rock at its huge feet, it cocked its hairy head to the right as if hearing something in the distance. But, unlike its more docile herbivorous cousin the Sasquatch, brezu were black of heart and soul malicious and violent more akin to tundra grendels and sand yeti's. So Kimba's druidic powers over beasts’ would not save her here; combat was her only remaining option.
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