This is a story that was at The Mercenary Guild site when the whole thing was up- about a month ago. I figured I\'d post it and see what you all think of it. I\'m planning to write another story about Jaxan, but I haven\'t found the time. Also, it makes more sense if you read
this(don\'t worry, it\'s not long).
-
The old mahogany clock sitting on a high shelf struck ten. Jaxan glanced at it before returning to the polishing of his worn out long sword. It was now six years since he left his past behind in Masmir and set out to find his destiny. He was sitting comfortably on a short wooden stool in his cousin?s living room.
He saw the scarred face of a fighter in his blade, and satisfied put it back in its sheath. Jaxan had been through many fights in the last weeks travelling through the bandit-ridden tunnels of Fanohr?da. Once the tunnels had served as a quick route from the Eastern Plains to the Aladian region, but now only the foolhardy or desperate dared brave those tunnels. Jaxan fell under the latter, running low on supplies he needed to reach Aladia. He rubbed his right shoulder recalling where he had been hit with a magically propelled shard of ice, caught at unawares in the dark.
His cousin?s small house in Aladia sat in the eastern side of town. The room was dimly lit by several candle stubs on the wall, which cast shadows on the dark finished paneling. It was a clear night out with moonlight illuminating the lonely streets. This was the last night Jaxan planned to spend here, for he could not find any suitable work for himself in Aladia.
Through the window he saw a Demorian walking down the street, sword at his side, bow on his back. He stood looking around as if new to the area. ?Good luck,? thought Jaxan, knowing now too late that Aladia was a quiet town with no use for warriors. ?Tomorrow the road will continue west,? he thought, staring out the window fixedly.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
SharpEye had never respected his local Octarch. Lord Baland taxed his family to starvation, forcing him to leave for the east. Of course, that wasn?t the only reason he?d fled, though he liked to tell himself otherwise. Confused and angry, the night before he left he stole his father?s bow and from the window of a vacant tavern room ended Lord Baland?s term early.
From that point on he was never again Weibard Triligan, the tailor?s son, but SharpEye, the feared window assassin. His flight was swift and soon he gained quite a reputation for solo robberies and murders of government officials. He brought a new pestilence upon the land: a organized group of bandits, the Blood Snakes.
Recently they had taken the tunnels of Fanohr?da and been preying upon hapless merchants and travelers. Unfortunately for them, few people risk passage through the tunnels anymore, and the Blood Snakes knew that they would have to find new hunting grounds.
This very night SharpEye was roaming the streets of Aladia, looking for vulnerable targets.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jaxan still sat staring, contemplating his next move. The candles were near spent and he could fell himself drifting away from consciousness. There he saw them again. The faces of those he had slain in his father?s smith that night six years ago were fresh in his mind. Four were unable to move, loaded with stolen ingots, and there was the other two, that had dropped their loop and fled. The fear in their eyes as they watched Jaxan?s blade run through there accomplices? bodies, was unbearable. One of those faces was familiar?
Jaxan slow realized that he had seen that face again this very night. It was the Demorian, the one who never saw justice
He grabbed his sword and dashed into the streets, heading in the direction he had seen the Demorian going. Jaxan felt blood surge to his face as he walked silently in the shadows. That Demorian was of the group of thieves that had raided his village for years, the group of thieves that murdered his mother.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
SharpEye had done one loop around the city, scribbling down low-risk, high-profit shops for later burglarizing. He was about to leave the city when he spotted an opportunity he could not resist: he watched as a plump shopkeeper walked out of a jewelry shop, turned and locked the door, but then muttered something and failed to shut the door completely. The shopkeeper was quite drunk and was singing a crude song while walking down the street, completely oblivious to the Demorian that had just slipped into his shop.
SharpEye spent several minutes carefully choosing a few inconspicuous pieces before pocketing them. He turned to exit the shop and leave the city to go back to the tunnels.
?In quite a hurry to leave aren?t you?? spat Jaxan, who was now standing in the doorway, blade drawn and pointing towards the Demorian?s chest, ?I suppose you don?t remember a boy from Masmir.?
SharpEye?s eyes widened at the recollection of his narrow escape, looking from Jaxan?s face down to the blade pointed to his heart. Jaxan had a terrible thirst for revenge; one move could end a terrible master of thieves. For a full minute they stood there, paralyzed. Jaxan suddenly snapped out of it and delivered a heavy left to the Demorian?s face, knocking him unconscious instantly.
Jaxan swung him over his shoulder and carried him in the dark to the city?s guard. The officer on duty looked puzzled at first at the sight of a man carrying a bleeding elf over his shoulder, soon turning to surprise. Behind the officer, on the wall there was a poster portraying that same Demorian above a mention of a four hundred octa reward.
?You got SharpEye?? the guard asked incredulously.
Jaxan saw the poster and nodded half-consciously. With a few signed papers, Jaxan walked back to his cousin?s house twenty thousand tria richer.
