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First day in Neverwinter - Trazk Al'Dzra DE TR
jasonst22
Member Posts: 8 Arc User
Trazk Al’Dzra rocked back against the chair and almost toppled over from the force of the blow. Straightening himself he spit blood on to the dirt floor of the chamber. He could feel the blood starting to rush to the bruises on his face and knew his situation had gone from bad to worse. The bindings holding his wrists behind his back were well knotted and his prospects for survival dim. One eye swollen almost shut, the dark elf rogue took stock of his surroundings.
Dark basement, check. Surrounded by orcs, check. Eyesight blurred, check. Prospects for survival, dim.
Trazk raised his chin and opened his one good eye to look at the huge orc in front of him. Bare chested and muscled like a brick wall, it was truly a specimen of the species. From the corner, in the darkness, the voice came again.
“What do you want here elf? This is Many Arrows territory and your kind isn’t allowed here, well not breathing anyway.” The voice was calm and sounded educated, not the usual guttural orc pigeon dialect of common Trazk was used to hearing in their company. “This isn’t Ched Nasad or another of your degenerate cities so we don’t fear you here elf.” Harsh guttural laughter drifted out of the darkness all around Trazk, showing the locations and existence of at least seven other orcs in the small chamber.
Ched Nasad, thought Trazk. What could these creatures know of the City of Shimmering Webs? Was this one of the foul dark dwarves that had burned his beloved city to cinders then attempted to rule the ashes? He needed to know more, he had to know more.
Trazk peered towards the darkness and tried to see the figure there. He could just see a vague outline, the slight shafts of daylight shining through the cracks in the roof blinded the elf to what the corner and even the edges of the room contained. Trazk could hear the orcs just out of eyesight, smell their rank sweat, thus he knew he was surrounded. Their scent was overpowering to the dark elf and there were several times he worried he was in danger of retching, both from the scent as well as pain as he had been at this for quite some time as best he could tell.
Trazk started to open his mouth and his head exploded into tiny rainbow colored lights, pain blossomed across his skull as he was rocked again by a backhand from the huge orc he could see. His mind started to reel and he wondered not for the first time that day, “How did I get here?”
Trazk had been smelling the same smell for hours. It reeked with a myriad of scents, offal, sweat, spice and even perfume. The closer he got to the surface the stronger it became until the corridor he had been following from the Underdark to the surface ended in a small round chamber. At the end of the chamber was a simple wooden ladder that went up to a trap door of some type.
Crossing to the ladder Trazk carefully examined the ladder with a practiced eye and discovered to his amazement that it was not trapped. A quick dance to the top and another pause to examine the trap door that led up again revealed nothing on this side of the door. Listening to the cracks in the surface of the door revealed only silence on the other side of the barrier, the last between the dark elf and his goal of the surface and the city of Neverwinter.
Nimble fingers quickly assessed the lock and with a faint click, released its hold on Trazk’s goal. Quickly Trazk took a dark rag from inside a pouch and rubbed it along the hinges of the door before quietly pushing it upward to reveal the room it had contained. The rag was a greaser, covered in a lubricating gel that allowed even the noisiest of hinges to open like silk on smooth skin.
One quick movement and Trazk crouched in what could only be a subbasement and took in his surroundings. Several large casks, easily from floor to ceiling ran along the wall furthest from him. The other walls of the chamber were lined with shelves containing bottles and random tools. From the look it appeared Trazk had emerged into a wine cellar of some type. Ignoring the alcoholic bounty around him, the elf slid along the wall to the doorway and checked its frame for alarms once more. Again he came up empty and frowned inwardly, how trusting were these surface dwellers.
A quick slide of the greaser on the hinges and a listen at the door revealed sounds of drinking and gambling on the other side of the door. Slowly Trazk opened the door and discovered a bustling tavern common room at the top of a short flight of stairs. Closing the door once more, Trazk crossed the room and took one of the bottles off a shelf. A quick flash of steel left the cork a memory and purplish liquid was quickly dabbed on his outer garments. A few fast silent steps and quick sure movements found Trazk lying at the top of the stairs in a heap, just another drunk on the floor spooning with its only friend, the bottle.
For several moments, Trazk simply lay on the floor as the busy tavern passed him by. From just under the hood of his cloak he was able to watch the barmaids hustle from table to table. Here a table of human mercenaries drank their fill and lied about which maids they had lain with the previous evenings. There a mason and his colleagues argued the cities current politics and how their guild’s place in them seemed tied to one politician on another.
Finally coming upon an idea, Trazk simply reached out and grabbed at a passing barmaids ankle as she hustled a tray of ale mugs to a particularly rowdy table of off duty guardsmen. Rough hands grabbed the seemingly drunk elf from the floor, lifted him from the cool stone and carried him bodily to the doorway.
Then just as suddenly as Trazk had been seized, Trazk found himself free and airborne. Two of the large humans had decided his presence was not needed in the tavern and had thrown him into the alley. Trazk landed hard on his shoulder, pain lancing up into his neck as he rolled with the landing and came to a halt. He waited silently in a heap in a corner of the alley to ensure the guardsmen were not going to follow up on their amusement.
“Well it wasn’t your best idea Trazk but I suppose it got the job done. Perhaps not in the style we are accustomed but we can worry about style points another time, “he thought. Luck was on Trazk’s side in one element of his new situation, it was night time on the surface so the elf didn’t have to deal with the sun, at least not yet. After several heartbeats, Trazk rolled over in the pile of rotted cabbages mixed with night soil and again thought not for the last time that day, “How did I get here?”
Trazk watched the orc as he passed through the edges of the River district on some as yet unknown errand. The creature was huge, even for its kind and had a savage quality that would have made the slavers in Ched Nasad salivate to have it on their blocks.
Trazk waited until the creature neared his hiding spot and then dropped behind him from the slight overhang in the alley. Growling the orc turned and swung, its ham sized fist moving the silver hair from Trazk’s forehead in a natural part. The follow up blow too found emptiness as Trazk had immediately ducked the blow that was sure to follow the first.
The elf had slid behind the orc, one slender bone handled stiletto sliding along the creature’s crotch and holding at its vitals. The elves other hand reached up and stabbed with stiffened fingers at the orc’s shoulder and punched once at the nerve cluster hidden under layers of muscle. The orc froze at the feel of steel at its crotch and raised its hands in surrender.
“Al nin ussta abbil, bwael ulu kyorl dos 'sohna” said Trazk in drow, watching the orc’s eyes widen in recognition. (Well now my friend, good to see you again.)
The orc turned his head slightly and started to grin widely and then quickly looked around. Slowly the orc lowered his hand to the stiletto at his crotch and moved it to one side. “Watch dat fing Trazk, joo gona make hunnerds uh wumen folk cry ta night ifn joo take off me parts.”
Trazk rolled his eyes and slid back into the alley, followed by the orc. After they were out of sight of the street they briefly clasped arms and renewed an old friendship.
“Whut joo doin on da surface, joo ole rogue?” ground out the orc in common to the slim drow. “Las I heared joo wuz in Nasad when da dorfs hit, I finkin joo dead.” For a moment the orc stepped back a step and closed one eye to examine the elf. “Joo ain wun uh dem undeaders iz ye, I’d be hatin ta putcha down.”
Wearily the elf shook his head and replied in common, “No Gnash, I am still among the living. As to what I am doing here on the surface, I am the thunder before the storm arrives. I need information about this area, who runs this part of the city?”
The orc grinned widely, almost making his curled tusks touch his ears at the width of the expression. “Da Many Arrows dun take dis part uh da city and dats a fact. Took me in on da firs dey seen me, lots uh orcs in Nevahwintah, lots uh good soljers fer joo.”
Trazk nodded and continued, “Do you think you can get me a meeting with their leader? I’ll need to requisition his assistance in turning over the tribes to us as soon as possible. Then again his permission isn’t really needed, however it would be a nice touch don’t you think?” Trazk grinned at the orc, his white teeth shining in the moonlit alley.
Fingers like bratwurst attached to a catcher’s mitt stroked the orcs lantern chin for a moment as the creature considered this and finally Gnash shook his head. “I don fink dey let a darkie point ear near da boss, evun if joo ask nice.” Again the orc shook his head and looked down, “I jus don see it ‘appenin Trazk.”
For a moment the reunited comrades stood in silence and then slowly Trazk’s grin reappeared in the darkness. Gnash’s nose twitched once and the big orc frowned, shaking his head. “Curse joo fer a fool and me fer bein joo friend. My sniffer be itchin, las time dat ‘appened joo almost got mah head cut ofn me shoulders.”
Trazk laughed mirthlessly at his associates discomfort, “Well Gnash, if this plan doesn’t work at least we will both not live long enough to rue the day as it were.” Quickly the drow leaned closer to the mountain of orc flesh and lay out his plan, much to the chagrin of Gnash and his perceived life expectancy. Not for the first time that day would Gnash also wonder, “How did I get here?”
Trazk shook his head in an attempt to clear the cobwebs the latest barrage of backhand slaps had deposited in his head. He leaned forward and kept leaning forward till he lost his balance and fell to the floor. At this signal, his orc boxing mate moved up to check his punching bag elf was still among the living. With a quick pop and twist, one wrist was dislocated and the ropes holding his hands fell free under his body.
Suddenly the basement under the Many Arrows encampment exploded into twin bone handled stilettos and roaring orc. Trazk rolled to his feet and continued onto one shoulder, rolling into the knees of an unseen orc to one side. Back to his feet he tumbled and shoved a razor edged stiletto into the chin and through to the brainpan of the closest opponent.
Before the orc even knew it was dead, the elf had already spun around its shoulders and kicked off. Trazk used the momentum to dislodge the stiletto and propel himself at the second orc in a fully laid out position. Both hands flashed steel in the daylight peering through the cracks in the ceiling as Trazk flew into the second orc full speed and drove the blades down into the shoulders of the creature. A gargled cry was sharply cut off as Trazk ripped a blade out of the creature and across its throat as it fell.
A quick scrambling noise from behind the elf brought his attention back to the leader of the interrogation. Trazk spun on his heel and grabbed the chair he had been seated on during his “interrogation” and threw it into the legs of the retreating figure. A sharp cry of pain showed the elf his aim was true as the figure fell to the ground in a heap of robes and concealed darkness. With a thought, Trazk enacted one of the powers inherent to his race and enveloped the figure in purple flames. The “faerie fire” wouldn’t burn the figure but would make it all the easier for it to be seen and targeted again if need be.
A quick look to his right showed Trazk that Gnash had made short work of the orcs on that side of the room. Orc flesh lay on the floor like split lumber as the huge orc stood over his slain kin with his great sword still at the recovery position from its latest death stroke. Catching the gaze of Trazk upon him, the orc nodded once in acknowledgement that they were clear and both crossed the room to the moaning cloak wrapped figure laying on the floor.
Gnash produced Trazk’s belongings from one corner of the room and Trazk picked up his hand crossbow and calmly shot the cloaked figure in the back. Stiffening the figure arched its back and tried in vain to reach the quarrel now lodged firmly between its shoulder blades. Rolling over onto its back snapped the quarrel but the drow sleep poison on its tip had already started to do its work. As the figure rolled over, Trazk saw the face of another drow male.
The male’s eyes widened as Trazk pulled out a symbol on a leather thong around his neck and showed it to the male. The symbol of House Nasadra, noble house of former Ched Nasad was on the symbol and its appearance in Neverwinter drew a gasp from the other drow. Before the sleep poison took the cloaked drow to a coma like state he said in a choked voice, “Lu'oh xunus dos inbau ghil?” (How did you get here?)
Trazk looked up at Gnash and nodded, the big orc reaching down and collecting the cloaked figure and tossing him rather unceremoniously over one shoulder. “How did I get here indeed…”thought Trazk aloud as both he and Gnash started to laugh. It had been one heck of a first day.
Dark basement, check. Surrounded by orcs, check. Eyesight blurred, check. Prospects for survival, dim.
Trazk raised his chin and opened his one good eye to look at the huge orc in front of him. Bare chested and muscled like a brick wall, it was truly a specimen of the species. From the corner, in the darkness, the voice came again.
“What do you want here elf? This is Many Arrows territory and your kind isn’t allowed here, well not breathing anyway.” The voice was calm and sounded educated, not the usual guttural orc pigeon dialect of common Trazk was used to hearing in their company. “This isn’t Ched Nasad or another of your degenerate cities so we don’t fear you here elf.” Harsh guttural laughter drifted out of the darkness all around Trazk, showing the locations and existence of at least seven other orcs in the small chamber.
Ched Nasad, thought Trazk. What could these creatures know of the City of Shimmering Webs? Was this one of the foul dark dwarves that had burned his beloved city to cinders then attempted to rule the ashes? He needed to know more, he had to know more.
Trazk peered towards the darkness and tried to see the figure there. He could just see a vague outline, the slight shafts of daylight shining through the cracks in the roof blinded the elf to what the corner and even the edges of the room contained. Trazk could hear the orcs just out of eyesight, smell their rank sweat, thus he knew he was surrounded. Their scent was overpowering to the dark elf and there were several times he worried he was in danger of retching, both from the scent as well as pain as he had been at this for quite some time as best he could tell.
Trazk started to open his mouth and his head exploded into tiny rainbow colored lights, pain blossomed across his skull as he was rocked again by a backhand from the huge orc he could see. His mind started to reel and he wondered not for the first time that day, “How did I get here?”
Trazk had been smelling the same smell for hours. It reeked with a myriad of scents, offal, sweat, spice and even perfume. The closer he got to the surface the stronger it became until the corridor he had been following from the Underdark to the surface ended in a small round chamber. At the end of the chamber was a simple wooden ladder that went up to a trap door of some type.
Crossing to the ladder Trazk carefully examined the ladder with a practiced eye and discovered to his amazement that it was not trapped. A quick dance to the top and another pause to examine the trap door that led up again revealed nothing on this side of the door. Listening to the cracks in the surface of the door revealed only silence on the other side of the barrier, the last between the dark elf and his goal of the surface and the city of Neverwinter.
Nimble fingers quickly assessed the lock and with a faint click, released its hold on Trazk’s goal. Quickly Trazk took a dark rag from inside a pouch and rubbed it along the hinges of the door before quietly pushing it upward to reveal the room it had contained. The rag was a greaser, covered in a lubricating gel that allowed even the noisiest of hinges to open like silk on smooth skin.
One quick movement and Trazk crouched in what could only be a subbasement and took in his surroundings. Several large casks, easily from floor to ceiling ran along the wall furthest from him. The other walls of the chamber were lined with shelves containing bottles and random tools. From the look it appeared Trazk had emerged into a wine cellar of some type. Ignoring the alcoholic bounty around him, the elf slid along the wall to the doorway and checked its frame for alarms once more. Again he came up empty and frowned inwardly, how trusting were these surface dwellers.
A quick slide of the greaser on the hinges and a listen at the door revealed sounds of drinking and gambling on the other side of the door. Slowly Trazk opened the door and discovered a bustling tavern common room at the top of a short flight of stairs. Closing the door once more, Trazk crossed the room and took one of the bottles off a shelf. A quick flash of steel left the cork a memory and purplish liquid was quickly dabbed on his outer garments. A few fast silent steps and quick sure movements found Trazk lying at the top of the stairs in a heap, just another drunk on the floor spooning with its only friend, the bottle.
For several moments, Trazk simply lay on the floor as the busy tavern passed him by. From just under the hood of his cloak he was able to watch the barmaids hustle from table to table. Here a table of human mercenaries drank their fill and lied about which maids they had lain with the previous evenings. There a mason and his colleagues argued the cities current politics and how their guild’s place in them seemed tied to one politician on another.
Finally coming upon an idea, Trazk simply reached out and grabbed at a passing barmaids ankle as she hustled a tray of ale mugs to a particularly rowdy table of off duty guardsmen. Rough hands grabbed the seemingly drunk elf from the floor, lifted him from the cool stone and carried him bodily to the doorway.
Then just as suddenly as Trazk had been seized, Trazk found himself free and airborne. Two of the large humans had decided his presence was not needed in the tavern and had thrown him into the alley. Trazk landed hard on his shoulder, pain lancing up into his neck as he rolled with the landing and came to a halt. He waited silently in a heap in a corner of the alley to ensure the guardsmen were not going to follow up on their amusement.
“Well it wasn’t your best idea Trazk but I suppose it got the job done. Perhaps not in the style we are accustomed but we can worry about style points another time, “he thought. Luck was on Trazk’s side in one element of his new situation, it was night time on the surface so the elf didn’t have to deal with the sun, at least not yet. After several heartbeats, Trazk rolled over in the pile of rotted cabbages mixed with night soil and again thought not for the last time that day, “How did I get here?”
Trazk watched the orc as he passed through the edges of the River district on some as yet unknown errand. The creature was huge, even for its kind and had a savage quality that would have made the slavers in Ched Nasad salivate to have it on their blocks.
Trazk waited until the creature neared his hiding spot and then dropped behind him from the slight overhang in the alley. Growling the orc turned and swung, its ham sized fist moving the silver hair from Trazk’s forehead in a natural part. The follow up blow too found emptiness as Trazk had immediately ducked the blow that was sure to follow the first.
The elf had slid behind the orc, one slender bone handled stiletto sliding along the creature’s crotch and holding at its vitals. The elves other hand reached up and stabbed with stiffened fingers at the orc’s shoulder and punched once at the nerve cluster hidden under layers of muscle. The orc froze at the feel of steel at its crotch and raised its hands in surrender.
“Al nin ussta abbil, bwael ulu kyorl dos 'sohna” said Trazk in drow, watching the orc’s eyes widen in recognition. (Well now my friend, good to see you again.)
The orc turned his head slightly and started to grin widely and then quickly looked around. Slowly the orc lowered his hand to the stiletto at his crotch and moved it to one side. “Watch dat fing Trazk, joo gona make hunnerds uh wumen folk cry ta night ifn joo take off me parts.”
Trazk rolled his eyes and slid back into the alley, followed by the orc. After they were out of sight of the street they briefly clasped arms and renewed an old friendship.
“Whut joo doin on da surface, joo ole rogue?” ground out the orc in common to the slim drow. “Las I heared joo wuz in Nasad when da dorfs hit, I finkin joo dead.” For a moment the orc stepped back a step and closed one eye to examine the elf. “Joo ain wun uh dem undeaders iz ye, I’d be hatin ta putcha down.”
Wearily the elf shook his head and replied in common, “No Gnash, I am still among the living. As to what I am doing here on the surface, I am the thunder before the storm arrives. I need information about this area, who runs this part of the city?”
The orc grinned widely, almost making his curled tusks touch his ears at the width of the expression. “Da Many Arrows dun take dis part uh da city and dats a fact. Took me in on da firs dey seen me, lots uh orcs in Nevahwintah, lots uh good soljers fer joo.”
Trazk nodded and continued, “Do you think you can get me a meeting with their leader? I’ll need to requisition his assistance in turning over the tribes to us as soon as possible. Then again his permission isn’t really needed, however it would be a nice touch don’t you think?” Trazk grinned at the orc, his white teeth shining in the moonlit alley.
Fingers like bratwurst attached to a catcher’s mitt stroked the orcs lantern chin for a moment as the creature considered this and finally Gnash shook his head. “I don fink dey let a darkie point ear near da boss, evun if joo ask nice.” Again the orc shook his head and looked down, “I jus don see it ‘appenin Trazk.”
For a moment the reunited comrades stood in silence and then slowly Trazk’s grin reappeared in the darkness. Gnash’s nose twitched once and the big orc frowned, shaking his head. “Curse joo fer a fool and me fer bein joo friend. My sniffer be itchin, las time dat ‘appened joo almost got mah head cut ofn me shoulders.”
Trazk laughed mirthlessly at his associates discomfort, “Well Gnash, if this plan doesn’t work at least we will both not live long enough to rue the day as it were.” Quickly the drow leaned closer to the mountain of orc flesh and lay out his plan, much to the chagrin of Gnash and his perceived life expectancy. Not for the first time that day would Gnash also wonder, “How did I get here?”
Trazk shook his head in an attempt to clear the cobwebs the latest barrage of backhand slaps had deposited in his head. He leaned forward and kept leaning forward till he lost his balance and fell to the floor. At this signal, his orc boxing mate moved up to check his punching bag elf was still among the living. With a quick pop and twist, one wrist was dislocated and the ropes holding his hands fell free under his body.
Suddenly the basement under the Many Arrows encampment exploded into twin bone handled stilettos and roaring orc. Trazk rolled to his feet and continued onto one shoulder, rolling into the knees of an unseen orc to one side. Back to his feet he tumbled and shoved a razor edged stiletto into the chin and through to the brainpan of the closest opponent.
Before the orc even knew it was dead, the elf had already spun around its shoulders and kicked off. Trazk used the momentum to dislodge the stiletto and propel himself at the second orc in a fully laid out position. Both hands flashed steel in the daylight peering through the cracks in the ceiling as Trazk flew into the second orc full speed and drove the blades down into the shoulders of the creature. A gargled cry was sharply cut off as Trazk ripped a blade out of the creature and across its throat as it fell.
A quick scrambling noise from behind the elf brought his attention back to the leader of the interrogation. Trazk spun on his heel and grabbed the chair he had been seated on during his “interrogation” and threw it into the legs of the retreating figure. A sharp cry of pain showed the elf his aim was true as the figure fell to the ground in a heap of robes and concealed darkness. With a thought, Trazk enacted one of the powers inherent to his race and enveloped the figure in purple flames. The “faerie fire” wouldn’t burn the figure but would make it all the easier for it to be seen and targeted again if need be.
A quick look to his right showed Trazk that Gnash had made short work of the orcs on that side of the room. Orc flesh lay on the floor like split lumber as the huge orc stood over his slain kin with his great sword still at the recovery position from its latest death stroke. Catching the gaze of Trazk upon him, the orc nodded once in acknowledgement that they were clear and both crossed the room to the moaning cloak wrapped figure laying on the floor.
Gnash produced Trazk’s belongings from one corner of the room and Trazk picked up his hand crossbow and calmly shot the cloaked figure in the back. Stiffening the figure arched its back and tried in vain to reach the quarrel now lodged firmly between its shoulder blades. Rolling over onto its back snapped the quarrel but the drow sleep poison on its tip had already started to do its work. As the figure rolled over, Trazk saw the face of another drow male.
The male’s eyes widened as Trazk pulled out a symbol on a leather thong around his neck and showed it to the male. The symbol of House Nasadra, noble house of former Ched Nasad was on the symbol and its appearance in Neverwinter drew a gasp from the other drow. Before the sleep poison took the cloaked drow to a coma like state he said in a choked voice, “Lu'oh xunus dos inbau ghil?” (How did you get here?)
Trazk looked up at Gnash and nodded, the big orc reaching down and collecting the cloaked figure and tossing him rather unceremoniously over one shoulder. “How did I get here indeed…”thought Trazk aloud as both he and Gnash started to laugh. It had been one heck of a first day.
[SIGPIC][/SIGPIC]
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