Shu — Roleplayer Guild

“By Tempus, guard duty for an Arahar…” Ibdur growled, “As if plodding though sodden alleyways with thieves were not degrading enough.”

Iliskra rolled her eyes and unsheathed her dagger, keeping her mace at her hip for now. Elthel meanwhile as well as Firoz were both squinting closely at Leon, eyes boring into him and then back between themselves. 

“My masked companion here is a man of the cloth, his magic is quite helpful.” Iliskra said lowly, hoping to dispel the obvious suspicion. 

“I do feel more… vigorous.” Firoz said, wiggling his fingers against his bow.

“Very well, Maskarran,” Elthel deliberately drew out the name, “you can handle those two, but we all go through the main entrance together. Once we are past the palisade we each pick a door or window and move inside.”

I knew it. Iliskra thought to herself in regards to Leon’s identity even as she nodded in understanding to Elthel, the others also nodded after which Elthel nodded directly to Firoz who raised his bow and took aim. The Turmish man lined up his shot, Iliskra could hear the bowstring straining as Firoz pulled the waiting arrow back tight. He released, there was a sharp snap followed by a faint whisking side as the arrow went sailing high over the palisade and two guards below. The man atop the rickety tower fell backward suddenly, his arms outward as he slammed into the wall behind him and his crossbow fell to his feet. Iliskra gritted her teeth in angst, expecting the two men at the entrance to hear something and investigate. As fortune would have it they did not, one was absently looking down and scraping his boot against the sidewalk while the other’s head swiveled left and right looking both ways down the street. The man atop the tower slowly slid down into a sitting position, grasping at the arrow in his chest before slumping over to one side dead.

“Well done, Firoz.” Elthel said quietly. 

Firoz released a sharp exhale and hurriedly pulled another arrow from his quiver as he looked to Leon, “You will take those two then? If you need me to drop one just quickly rise your left fist high and I will shoot.”

Iliskra pulled her hood tight around her head as she flexed her grip against her blade, ready to rush forward if need be. She was not quite sure what Leon planned to handle the two men up front but was ready nonetheless.

“I as well, but all will be revealed soon. All that the gods see fit to show us.” Ibdur’s simple response was all the dwarf would say during the short trek to Gunalar’s abode, keeping his eyes forward and hands resting against his axes.

“This is where that half-orc fancied as his home?”

These words were spoken by Willory Copperbridge, one of the two that had met with Elthel, Iliskra, Leon, and Ibdur on the way to Gunalar’s place. Willory and Firoz - a scruffy halfling and a tall, thin Turmish man - had been sent out by Elthel before she had come up from Yanoriim’s basement to speak with the three newcomers. Elthel explained that the pair had used an underground system of secret passages that was intertwined with the sewers to go on ahead. Iliskra had raised her brow at this willing revelation to which Elthel had smirked and stated that it was common knowledge that thieves, assassins, fences, and other “shadowy sorts” used the sewers. “The trick is to know where the passages are and which tunnels are safe to go skulking through.” Elthel explained.

After leaving Yanoriim’s shop Elthel and her three companions went east down the street and then cut through a small cluster of houses perched upon a park area. They came out on the south end of the park, holding back for another armored patrol to pass, and then headed southeast down another short street where they had met Willory and Firoz. The halfling and his Turmish partner seemed quite impressed with Elthel’s tagalongs but quickly composed themselves and followed in tow. After rounding one final corner the six came to another group of houses that sat upon a small hill encircling a fenced-in grove of oak trees. Elthel with a point of her finger singled out Gunalar’s house. It was the most dilapidated, hideous excuse for a lair that Iliskra had seen in some time.

“Gunalar was not one for class,” Elthel remarked, “the inside looks even worse, you will see.”

The six were crouched low in an alley across the street from the “compound” which was basically a charred, falling down, two story estate surrounded by a crookedly placed palisade of stakes. The walls of the mansion were cracked and crumbling, most of the windows were shattered out, and the moss-covered shingles and gutters hung by splinters. There was a single entrance through the palisade which was guarded by two men in ragged clothing and common make leather armor. A crude, rickety “tower” was hugged against the front of the structure right next to the front door, a particularly lazy-looking guard with a crossbow stood atop it with his back against the front wall. Iliskra had seen amateurish defenses before and this was just a pitiful display. Would they even need six in number?

“How many men would you say are inside?” Firoz whispered next to Elthel.

“Gunalar never had much more than a dozen men,” Elthel said grimly, rubbing at her chin,”we killed two during our escape earlier, and there are three rotting in the alley with their boss now. Counting those three out front I would say maybe there are… between four and six inside.”

“If we do this quick and do it right we can kill them all without them spotting us.” Willory said energetically. “Once we cut down those three we can sneak inside, split up, and slit every throat we see.”

Firoz seemed to concur, nocking a glistening arrow into a short bow he had slipped from his shoulder and looking to Elthel waiting for her to make a call.

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