The Rogue

lukeminherexx · July 2014

The darkness surrounded him, as the moon itself refused to even peek out. He gazed over the field, his eyes picking up any movement.
And there was movement. It was slow, jerky, and very much not human, and very much not alive. The groans reached Luke's ears even on top of the wall. Valindra had really made a mess of things in Neverwinter.
Luke's eyes caught movement on the bridge, as a couple of guards were dispatching some zombies that roamed too close to the gates. It was an easy enough job for them, without any Red Wizards, without any necromancers and their dark magic, they were barely cognitive enough to even know to feed.

It was over quick.

Luke heard the excited voices of the guards, even as they removed the dead corpses.
"Dead, undead corpses," Luke said low, even as a slight smile crossed his lips. It was all insane. The dead, the living, the undead. Why he ever bothered coming here, he did not know. It was a messed up city, messed up beyond belief.
Luke's eyes turned toward the floating inn, and he just shook his head.
The Moonstone Mask. That was his destination. Luke found the shadows, and if any were watching, would have appeared to simply disappear into the night.

lukeminherexx · July 2014

The Moonstone Mask. A legendary tavern floating off the coast of Protector's Enclave. As Liset Cheldar, the current owner explains to new comers, when the Spellplague hit and parts of the city started floating away, some guests had the brilliant idea to tether the tavern's block to the ground, so it would stay accessible. Luke was grateful for that.
With that in mind, Luke could never really get used to the magic that whisked him up to the bridge. Even as he gained his senses from the trip he could hear the conversations as people from all walks of life were coming and going. Some seemed intoxicated, some seemed not intoxicated enough. However, the laughter and lighthearted mood far outweighed any problems.
Luke entered the place with a pleasant smile to the lady by the door. The mask she wore let Luke know her role in the tavern, but Luke was not there for that, and his eyes drifted around the tavern.
He was not there for pleasure, though he was not beyond being there for just that. The tavern was famous for it's ladies, it's drink, and it's discretion.
Luke was there for business. His tailoring business was doing good, and he wanted to expand it out a bit. A business associate of his, a tall lanky half orc actually named Stanly, was his shipping contact to Lusken. Luke had not seen him for days though, but he did frequent the Mask time to time.

"What will you have," the barmaid asked, as she slid an ale to another customer.
"Some clear," Luke said, preferring the clear alcohols over ale. He then offered the lady a handsome smile, not remembering if he met her before or not. She smiled back, and poured him some whiskey in a small glass.
"Name's Luke, Luke Minhere," the rogue offered, taking the drink while he deposited the coin, then scanning the room. His eyes fell on a large half orc, broad of shoulder and very brute looking, obviously not Stanly, then turned back toward the barmaid.
"Phoebe, my name is Phoebe," she offered, then tended to others at the bar.

Luke walked about the Mask, talking with some of the nobles that he knew. They always spoke to him, and always with respect. He offered them some of the finer silks from distant places, and that earned him some points with them. Not a noble himself, that was quite an accomplishment. He soon only found himself, however, with their conversations. Always about riches, always about conquering one interest or another. Always boring.
While Luke enjoyed the elbow rubbing with the nobles, especially when they were buying, he many times preferred the crowd of the Driftwood.

Luke made his way back to the bar, even as Phoebe was frowning at a mess that was somehow made with wine bottles.
"Phoebe, may I ask you something," Luke asked, his own eyes flowing to the mess.
Phoebe looked to him, but was obviously discouraged by whatever happened to the wine bottles.
"Yes you may," she forced a smile, and a very pleasant one at that.
"Have you seen a tall, lanky orc, has a slight scar under his left eye," the rogue asked.
"I have seen many orcs...," she began, but Luke shook his head even as she spoke.
"No, you would know him if you saw him. He is tall, narrow shouldered, nothing really like the half orcs you will normally see," Luke had to chuckle a bit thinking of the description of Stanly. Stanly was not the brute most were. He was raised by his human mother, who mothered him a bit too much it seemed.
"Well, I suppose I have only seen the more brutish ones," Phoebe acknowledged, "but if I see this one I will tell him you are looking for him. What is his name?"
Luke smiled, "Stanly, his name is actually Stanly, and I thank you."
Phoebe seemed to smile at that, and nodded as she went to clean up the mess.

"Boss," a rugged voice called from behind, but Luke knew Brin was there before he spoke. The big warrior couldn't sneak up on a blind and deaf dwarf that was in a coma.
"I checked the Driftwood, he aint there," Brin reported, having looked for Stanly as well.
"Thanks, I guess he isn't around here either," Luke supplied. "Let's head out. If I stay too long I may actually start having some fun."

lukeminherexx · August 2014

"Although the Blacklake District stands largely intact in the wake of the various disasters that laid Neverwinter low, those who inhabit the district have violently resisted Lord Neverember's plans to resettle it. The Nashers, the more violent faction of the anti-Neverember Sons of Alagondar, have claimed the area for themselves, daring Neverember's soldiers and mercenaries to try to take it from them by force."

Krell Morkar watched from an abandoned building as adventurers pass. He stays to the shadows, making sure that he is not seen, which is helped by his dark clothes. Krell had dark hair, dark eyes, and his skin was well tanned. His clothes were meant for functionality, not looks. He wore a simple soft leather tunic, with many hidden pockets. His black breeches were also soft leather, and his boots were thigh high. The boots also had small hidden pockets. In every pocket on him, there was something of use, be it magical, alchemical, or just deadly, such as a small dagger or razor chord. Krell was not a fighter, but he was a survivor.
Knowing that the adventurers were not after him did not make him less leery of them. He found out a long time ago not to judge these adventurers as easy targets. Just because they were new to the area, did not make them new to killing.
The adventurers moved on, and Krell could here some hollering and then the ring of steel on steel down the road, out of his view. Nashers must have seen these adventurers, and challenged them, or the adventurers challenged the Nashers. It was always hard to tell here. One thing was for certain, there would be a killing going on down the road.
Krell moved back into the building, sure no one was coming in. The building was too close to the lake, which meant the Nashers did not use it. It flooded during rains, and stunk because of the corrupted lake, and the mold and the mildew that set in.
Krell walked up the stairs, careful not to step on the steps that were decrepit enough to break through. At the top he found who he was looking for. A tall half orc, that appeared quite feminine, which was odd for such a brutish half race. The half orc fidgeted with frills on his sleeves, and looked disgusted to be in such a place. This brought a smile Krell's face, even as he made himself seen.
"Stanly, I am glad you made it okay," Krell said, still smiling.
"Krell, I made it just fine," the tall half orc said, strangely well spoken. One look into his eyes and one could tell he was very intelligent, unlike many of the warrior, brutish half orcs that stroll through Neverwinter. "Now it is up to you tell me why you had me leave the comforts of Protector's Enclave to meet you in this trashed, smelly shadow of Black Lake."
Stanly eyed Krell, looking down from his near 7 foot stance. Krell himself was just under 6 feet tall.
Krell smirked slightly, then shrugged. "You did not have to come, Stanly. No one forced you to come."
Stanly knew Krell never wanted to talk just to talk. Krell was a rogue business man. He was an adequate fighter, but his worth was in his ability to put those wanting something, with those that know how to get it. He was the ultimate middle man, and made a pretty good living out of it.
"Then let's talk business," Stanly said, while brushing off an old broken chair with a silk handkerchief, then taking a seat.
Krell nodded, and leaned against the wall. Krell never sat when he was giving his spill on a job he knew would bring him, and the one he was offering, plenty of gold.

lukeminherexx · August 2014

This Inn was recently purchased by the dwarven merchant Gorun Pricebreaker, who re-opened it to serve the burgeoning trade routes along the northern Sword Coast. The Broken Crown Inn was so named by the original owner, a Luskan sympathizer who wanted to see the rulers of Neverwinter deposed.

Luke woke up, even as the sky was just starting to break light. He walked over to the window from his room, purchased the night before by Bagila, who was still under the sheets, but stirred when the naked Luke got up. He was not shy, and did not bother to clothe yet, even as he looked out of the window.
Luke's dark hair cascaded down his face, causing him to brush it back. His eyes scanned outside at people already getting a start to the day. The adventurers, bounty hunters, and guards with a warrant were usually the first ones up. This time his eyes flowed over three warriors with tall strong horses already riding out toward the ruins of Blackdagger. Fortune, revenge, fame? It didn't really matter. They came, they went.
"Yur up but you aint none ready there, Minhere," the female dwarf said from the bed, peeking out from the covers. Her curls were a mess from the romp the night before, or only a few hours before. She was obviously a bit worse for the wear, though Luke knew it had as much to do with the ale and bar fight she started as it did their adventures in this very room afterwards.
"You are neither up, or ready," Luke flashed a brilliant smile, one that would charm most.
Bagila just sighed and her head flopped back down on the pillow as she let out an aching moan.
"What did you force down my gullet you swashbuckler," she asked, pushing the blonde curls from her face. She was pretty, with a plump face and curved full figure. She also looked as if she had human in her, though only trace amounts.
Luke smiled and began putting his breeches on.
"Forced down your gullet, eh? I couldn't stop you," the rogue offered with a chuckle.
"As I remember you had me over your shoulder and was forcing me up here for one of your romps," Bagila moaned again.
"I brought you up here to put you to bed, to sleep, don't forget who started the 'romping.'"
Bagila shrugged and sat up, looking around for her own clothes.
"I got work to do cleaning the mess in the tavern below," she said. She worked mornings before the tavern got busy, cleaning it up and preparing it for the night crowds.
"Gorun is gonna have my hide."
Luke grinned to Bagila, and quickly received a pillow thrown to his head.
"Not that kind of having my hide you rogue," she laughed, and sat up on the side of the bed. Her eyes flowed across the rogue, measuring him. She never really understood her own attraction to him. She was a true dwarf in the sense that she liked her men rugged, and bearded for that matter. However, this fancy pants tailor, rogue, adventurer or whatever he really was, caught her eyes months before, and they shared each others company time to time when he swaggered on in to the tavern. He would bring her nice silks and fancy items, most of which she had no use for, but accepted his kindness anyway. There was no future in the two, she would some day find a mate and it would be over. She was pretty sure he would never find himself a mate for good. It wasn't something she desired from him anyway.
"I have some business to attend in Protectors Enclave," the rogue offered, as he slipped his silk shirt on and began to tuck into his breeches. "I am unsure when I will be back around here. I was looking for Stanly, the half orc."
"I know, you asked me about him last eve," Bagila replied. "No idea where he would be either."
Luke nodded as he buckled on his belt. He then sat on the bed next to the naked dwarf and grabbed his boots.
"He was suppose to be going to Lusken, but I guess he left already," the rogue said.
Bagila nodded, not really interested in the conversation. The sales of silk and other cloths was not tops on her list of fun things to talk about.
Luke stood up and brushed his hair back, then looked the pretty dwarf over. She was only partially covered as she sat there rubbing her temples, eyes closed, not knowing she was being appraised.
"I guess I don't have to rush off yet," Luke laughed, pushing Bagila down on the bed and planting a kiss on her lips.
Bagila forced her eyes open, looking almost as if she was about to complain. Instead she smiled and kissed him back.
"Then I guess I don't have to clean the mess waiting for me just yet either," she offered.
Drawn_wallpapers_Painted_girls_Beauty_blonde_girl_035285_.jpg

Drawn_wallpapers_Painted_girls_Beauty_blonde_girl_035285_.jpg

lukeminherexx · August 2014

Protector's Enclave is the heart of the economy and governance in the city of Neverwinter. Lord Neverember reclaimed this part of the city from the hoards of monsters that invaded after the eruption of Mount Hotenow and then rebuilt it. For this deed this district was named after his title, "The Protector". He now oversees the rest of this once great city from the Hall of Justice as he tries to bring under his protection the parts of the city still controlled by monsters.

Luke glided through crowds of the market place in Protector's Enclave. He was able to keep some of his appointments, mostly for fine wear he was selling, even though he was kept busy by his dwarven lover Bagila for most of the morning. Now he was simply looking about to see if there was anything of interest to him. He checked carts with potions, booths with jewelry, and even the auction house, but his day was almost done. It was nearing the 17th hour of the day, and it was about time for a good supper.
Luke felt a small tug at his purse belt, and quickly reached his hand down, grabbing the offender. He spun the would be thief in front of him, and was met with a young boy, who could not have been 8 years old yet. Luke frowned deeply, looking into the boys eyes, who looked back defiantly.
"Do you know what the guards do to thieves here?"
The boy said nothing, but his defiance was slowly turning into fear.
"I will tell you," Luke continued. "First they throw you in the cage, but before you are released, months from now, they will chop off the offending hand."
The boy blinked, and his eyes widened at that, but still he said nothing.
Luke slipped a gold coin from his purse, and then set it in the palm of the boy.
"I will not be generous next time," he admonished, and turned the young thief lose. The boy ran away a bit, then turned back to Luke with a quizzical look. Luke nodded, and the boy was soon lost in the mass of people doing their shopping.
"You should not encourage them," a female voice said from behind.
Luke smiled handsomely, and turned around.
"Marcy, how are you?"
"When you encourage them they will continue to try and steal, and they will be caught, and the one catching them may not be as understanding as a rogue tailor."
"True, and a hard lesson will be learned. What is the difference if I teach it now, or they learn it later?" Luke's eyes flowed up to the taller woman, who only shrugged at him.
Marcy was one of Luke's guards, hired to help protect his shipments of fine cloth. She and Brin also functioned as personal body guards when Luke found himself in need. She stood six feet, very tall for a woman, and was very broad shouldered. She was only in studded leather at the time, saving her steel armor for when she was working. The leather fit snug, showing off her well formed and muscular body. At her left side hung a long sword, and on her right side a short sword. She was a very imposing figure, and most people got out of her way as she walked, or went well around her when she was standing still.
"Have it your way boss. Do we have any jobs soon, I am bored," she simply said, moving on to business. Marcy was really a no nonsense type.
"I do. Since I was unable to find Stanly I think we will be heading to Luskin soon. I will have to rent a wagon and drive the horses myself. You and Brin will ride along. I was hoping to be able to take my own steed, I hate wagon rides."
Marcy nodded.
"When?"
"Tomorrow morning," Luke supplied. "Meet me at the Driftwood on Coriol street at day break. I will rent a wagon and load up tonight."
"Think I will sleep there tonight as well then. You tell Brin yet?"
Luke shook his head. Marcy nodded, letting Luke know she would find him, and just like that, the conversation was over. Marcy walked away, and Luke watched her leave with a grin. She was an amazing swordsman, but a horrible conversationalist. However, he would not trust anyone more than he trusted her and Brin. The two had proven their worth many times over.
Luke also moved on toward the Moonstone Mask. Business was over, he now wanted to relax a bit.
He did not notice a pair of Halfling eyes watching him as he walked away.

lukeminherexx · December 2014

The elves originally called Neverwinter Wood the Llewyrrwood and the forest came to be a colony for Illefarn. When Aryvandaar annexed both Illefarn and the Llewyrrwood in -9900 DR, many of the residents fled to Shantel Othreier. Some stayed for a century, living under the yoke of the Vyshantaar until the queen of the Llewyrr, Synnoria, led a large force of her people out of their lands and across the Trackless Sea to the Moonshae Isles where they established the kingdom of Synnoria in her honor.

The morning started off easy enough, as Luke, Brin and Marcy headed out toward Luskin. Luke bought some supplies for the short trip, even as Marcy and Brin insured the wagon would also be prepared for safety reasons. By sun up, they were on their way. No undead hindered them at the gates, though the putrid smell of dead flesh still lingered, no doubt from the night before. Brin and Marcy were on edge until they entered the Neverwinter Wood, and left Neverwinter and it's problems behind them.

"I hate wagons," Luke said with a smirk, as he rode his own steed at a slow pace beside Marcy and Brin. The two guards sat in the front, with Brin driving the horses.
"It doesn't make it more pleasant since the road is less traveled," Brin said, but he didn't really mind. He did not know exactly why Luke would not like the wagon. The seat was comfortable enough. The back was only half loaded, and covered, so he and Marcy could actually take turns resting and stretching their legs if they so desired.
The road between Neverwinter and Luskin followed the coast, with peeps of the Sea of Swords from time to time. The smell of the coast filled the air even as a cool breeze continued to flow.

The first few days went well, with the weather pleasant and comfortable. Luke did not find it odd that they did not meet with many others, since the Spellplague, less people traveled this road just for traveling sake. It was quite boring to the rogue, who much preferred the chatter of a nice tavern, and the comfort of a bed, and the company of a fine tavern lass.
It was however more dangerous.
Marcy and Brin did what they do best, they took care of their employer. Brin made the fires and cooked, Marcy usually scouted about to insure the area was clear of any trouble before they laid down to sleep. Luke slept in the wagon, the other two usually took turns sleeping by the camp fire.
Five days into the trip, Luke was sleeping in the wagon while either Brin or Marcy took their watch. He really did not care if they stayed awake or not, Marcy was good at scouting and if she didn't find anything dangerous then chances were good they would be fine. None the less, no matter how much he assured them they could sleep, they would still take their turns.
"Luke," his name was called and he stirred, opening his eyes slightly. His hand naturally wrapping around his right hand dagger, aptly named "Right".
Luke looked to the rear of the wagon but no face was peeping in. Thinking he just dreamed hearing his name called, the rogue laid back down to sleep.
"Luke."
Luke opened his eyes again, knowing he heard his name called this time, there was no way he went back to sleep so soon. Luke pulled his calf high boots on, and slipped his daggers into the hidden sheaths. He then pulled his short sword to the edge of the wagon as he opened the flap to get out.
"Luke," the voice said again, but it was neither Brin nor Marcy calling to him. In fact, it was a female voice that he was sure he had never heard before, or at least could not put a name to.

lukeminherexx · January 2015

These vampires were corpses, who went out of their graves at night to suck the blood of the living, either at their throats or stomachs, after which they returned to their cemeteries. The persons so sucked waned, grew pale, and fell into consumption; while the sucking corpses grew fat.

Luke saw a brief image in his mind, it was a girl, probably in her teen years. She was tied to a tree, with three men sitting at a camp fire. He knew she was not far into the woods, but he did not know why he knew. Something was wrong with the whole picture.
Luke looked about the camp, and saw Marcy sitting by the fire. She did not see him come out of the wagon, and it was just as well. He felt the need to go alone, for whatever reason. Luke stuck to the shadows, almost as if he wore them. He strapped the short sword to his hip as he quietly ran, deftly avoiding anything that would make a sound.
It was not long before the rogue saw the glow of a camp fire, and heard the low talking of a group of men, the three men he saw in his vision.
Sure enough, tied to a tree, was a young lady. She appeared to have been burned, and she hung her head almost as if she was sleeping. Around her neck hung a talisman of sorts, that glowed ever so slightly. Just as Luke began to look closer at the talisman, the girl lifted her head and looked directly at him. She turned her gaze to the three men, then lowered her eyes again. Luke looked at the three sitting at the fire. Two were heavy set brutes in leather armor. The third was a smaller man in light colored robes. He could not tell if the man was a mage or a priest, but he would probably be the most dangerous.
Luke made his way around to the tree that the girl was tied to, keeping to the shadows.
Take this enchantment off of me and cut the ropes, She said to Luke, without speaking a word of it.
Luke reached around and removed the amulet from around her neck with his dagger. He kept from touching it with his hands so he would not be effected by it's charm. Luke tossed it to the ground, and began cutting the binds of the young lady.
"We have to go," he whispered into her ear. She smiled slightly to him, but shook her head.
They have killed my family, and will hunt me down until they kill me. They were only saving me now to draw out what is left of my people, she said, again not moving her lips.
Luke frowned, and looked to the three men again. The two brutes were definitely hired swords. However, every time he tried to consider who the other one was, the thought would slip away from his grasp like a slippery stone.
"Help me," she said, this time with her mouth. Luke looked to her, and saw the torture they did to her face. It was burned and scarred deeply, and judging from it, it would be for the rest of her life.
"Stay here then....." Luke began, but she shook her head.
"Give me your sword, I can help out better than you think," she offered.
Luke nodded.
"The robed one will try to use magic, I will take him down first. Help me with the other two," she said, then was up and moving at a speed Luke could only admire.
True to her word, she crossed the 10 yards between them. and knocked the robed man out with the hilt of her sword before Luke could get half way to them. It was unnatural.
The brutes cleared their swords from their scabbards and began to the challenge the girl. They gave her a greater show of respect than he would have considered. The young lady was only of medium build for a woman, and did not appear to be very imposing. Her cotton tunic hung loose, and was tattered, her pants also loose as if they did not belong to her. She wore simple shoes.
Nothing about her seemed imposing or threatening, except for the short sword in her hand, yet the brutes were being very careful.
Luke took it all in as he closed the distance. He drove his dagger to the hilt through the neck of the first fighter, who had his back to Luke. The second saw this and took his eyes off of he girl, taking a defense stance from both of them. The girl then swiftly attacked the fighter, who skillfully parried the attack. He drove her back with his own swing of his long sword, but back stepped away, not allowing Luke to close in from behind.
"You don't know what she is," the man said, a sneer on his lips. "Guess you think you got you some honey here, but that honey will turn out to be the bee."
Luke had no idea what the man meant. The girl may have been attractive at one time, but he was not in this for payment. Even a rogue tailor had some honor, and tying up a young girl, and mutilating her, was beyond what he could stand by and witness.
"Maybe I don't know 'what she is', but I know what you are," he countered, then swiftly moved in with both daggers in hand. This was not the first time the rogue fought daggers against swords. He was quite adept at it, though he would have preferred his short sword that the young lady was using. His blades were fast, and the fighter had to do everything to keep Luke at bay. He parried, then attacked. The brute however made a fatal mistake when he committed himself to a thrust. The young lady, who he must have forgotten about, swiftly and deftly moved in and sliced his head clean off. Luke watched the body crumple to the ground.

Luke watched the girl tie the robed man up, and lay him by the fire. He was still out, with an ever growing lump on his head.
"Glad I did not kill him," she said, matter of factly, handing Luke back his short sword.
"Who is he, what did he want with you," Luke asked, while sheathing his weapon.
The young lady smiled, and Luke could see that beneath her burns she really was beautiful.
"You are done here, my savior. You should go back to your own camp, and leave this all to me. There are others looking for me, and they will not be pleased to see what has happened here. I will promise however that you will have safe passage."
"Well, my name is Luke, Luke Minhere, and if you are ever in Neverwinter please feel free to look me up. Ask around the Moonstone Mask or the Driftwood Inn, they will point you in my direction."
The young lady just nodded, but did not offer her own name.
"You need to get back to your camp, they will start looking for you, and we do not want them in the woods away from the road" she said.
Luke nodded. It sounded right.
Luke looked to the man in the robes, who was just now starting to stir. He began to mumble towards Luke, but Luke simply smiled to the young lady.
"Have fun with him I guess," Luke said, and walked away. As he was leaving the clearing, he saw the enchantment that he removed from the young lady. Luke squatted down and looked closer at it.
He could not understand why that scoundrel enchanted a talisman of Amaunator with some kind of weakening spell. It didn't matter, his job was done here. As Luke headed back to his own camp, he could hear someone begging for mercy behind him.

Luke woke up in his wagon with his boots and weapons on. He tried to remember the dream that seemed to be about a young lady in need of help, but he could not quite remember it anymore. One thing was for sure, Luke did not feel well rested, and he must have tossed and turned all night.
"Let's go boss," Marcy called in, a bit of distress in her voice.
Luke poked his head out of the covered wagon and looked to his guards who were packing up quickly.
"What is it," he asked.
"I was scouting this morning and found a camp with three dead bodies. Two were killed outright. The other, a cleric of Amaunator, was completely drained of blood," Marcy said.
"Hmmmf," Luke said, looking to the woods.
"I hate vampires," Brin called. "Never seen one, never want to see one."
"Yeah, same here," Luke offered, but was finding it hard to take his eyes off of the treeline.
"Same here," Luke said again.

The Rogue

Comments