The Capture

Cyril, for just a moment, was surprised at how calm he  kept when the Dark Elves descended upon the encampment.
He was also very thankful that he hadn't drawn the short straw that night and ended up on first watch as he now looked down on the three small darts sticking out of his comrades face and throat.

The other eight guardsman he traveled with, fought the ebony skinned forms around the light of the campfire and as he rounded the wagon he watched them all disappear under a globe of what he assumed to be magical darkness. Panicked shrieks could be heard from within as he edged closer, as his eyes adjusting to the clear pale moonlight.

Faint foot falls behind him pricked his ears up and he instinctively spun, hands in motion as they caught a blade destined for his back and deflected it harmlessly sideways. Turning his wrist quickly to bring his hand over his assailants hand he kept control of the arm, crossing it over the dark elf's body. The lithe onyx form spun with the momentum his other hand whipping down with an over head strike from a wicked dagger.
Cyril moved with in cohesion with the Dark Elf, keeping in his blind spot and catching the dagger hand at the wrist before bringing down his weight just behind the elbow of the extended arm, Cyril fell on top of his attacker as he felt a satisfying 'pop' as the cartilage from Dark Elf's elbow tore, shrieking as the blade fell away from his now useless arm.
Cyril silenced him quickly, snapping a fast punch to the back of his neck, a single knuckle extended.

He scooped up the dagger, nimbly turning it over in his hand so that the blade ran concealed down his forearm before moving to aid his compatriots. 

In the time it had taken him to dispatch one, the Dark Elves had dispatched the remaining seven.
Six slinking forms now stalked in towards him. There was no victory to be had here in this moment.
"If the enemy are stupid enough to want to capture you, don't fight it."
He heard his instructors voice in his head as he let the blade slip from his hand and fall to the ground, his foot kicking it aside as he locked his fingers behind his head, arms raised and heart racing.

There were three clicks in quick succession from the hand crossbows leveled at him and felt the sting of the darts pierce his leather tunic and bite his flesh.
The pain only lasted a moment as he felt the numbing effects of the poison spread through his body.
He knelt, just as his legs began to give way.
He then decided that if he woke up from this, he was going to find a way to escape. He would bring news of this capture to the surface and warn his superior officers.
This would be his ultimate test to prove his worth to the Lords Alliance.

Calling to The Dark - Post current campaign.

The Blind Kraken Inn was for many the first port of call from the south wharf of Waterdeep's dock district. It was a haven for the less reputable of the cities travellers. A place where city guards seldom came and deals were made and broken.
 The establishment bustled with all manner of folk. Tables set about the floor seated drinkers and gamblers. Draped off the upstairs balcony were men and woman of all races coaxing the patrons below with offers of companionship for a modest fee. A small area around a fireplace was kept clear for the Kraken's entertainers. Two played here this night. A sombre melody of bagpipes and Lute strings kept those close by swaying and singing. Cheers of "Grubar!" And "Linny!" erupted from the merriment.
Amongst it all, a young woman, service tray in hand, deftly skipped about the tables collecting empty tankards all while  avoiding the occasional slap on the arse or attempted grope.  With a smile and a wink she kept them cheering and laughing as she navigated the a course back to the bar.
"Ye having fun, Daisy?" Came the gruff voice of Benrik the Inn keep. An older, more grizzled version of the patrons that now drank his ale, gambled at his tables and spent coin on his whores. He wore a decent scar across his right cheek to his lip that he earned as a whelp in a bar not unlike the one he now ran. Part of his large handlebar moustache was now divided by it.
"Sure, Boss," she chimed back as she unloaded the empty cups from her tray. "Just another night in Paradise!"
"Just be sure you keep moving out there," boomed the voice of a younger man from across the bar. Daisy shot him a wry smile as she moved across to his position at the opposite end of the bar.
"Oh don't worry, Lucias, I'll only stop if the  tips good." Smirking as she danced away with two full tankards of spiced mead.

Lucias Halt, the taverns lead bouncer, stern and sturdy. Billy club hanging from his belt and Daisy's Lover for just over a year now.
It was Lucias that had found her walking aimlessly in the nearby market area, sobbing and making very little sense.  Something about an employment venture that had fallen through. 
He took her back to Benrik after much coaxing and assurances that he wasn't trying to rob her.
She was smart enough to insist that a town guard escort them back to the Kraken, just to be sure.
All that initial mistrust and fear turned about as time went on.

Daisy arrived at a table consisting of three men.  'Some kind of uniform,' she thought as they all sported a crimson sash across their chest. A fourth figure sat opposite the men. A dwarf, but the smell of the sea permeated from him so strongly that she would have believed that it was some kind of bearded sea creature that walked out of the bay instead of off a ship.
A game of bones was currently underway. The dwarf against the human seated in the middle of his cohorts.

Judging from the pile of coins on the dwarfs side of the table, the game wasn't going so well for his opponent.

Greyson

"Boys," she interjected between moves, "two cups o' mead, as ordered."
The dwarfs hand went up and snatched one tankards before it even left her tray and began quaffing it's contents, keeping one eye on his opponents.
Daisy watched the spectacle play out as he replaced the mug on the tray in record time and proceeded to down the next.
The second cup was drained and handed back to the stunned Maid. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and took a few copper from his pile and slapped them down on the edge of the table in front of Daisy.
She offered a small curtsey and nimbly scooped up the coins.
She turned away and took a few steps back from the table spreading the money  in the palm of her hand to check for any fake currency as Benrik had taught her.
There was more than enough for the drinks, but there was one smaller coin, it looked more like iron than copper.
She held the palm of her hand closer to her face. Depicted on its surface was a hand holding what looked like another coin.
"Mi lord," she said spinning about not taking her eye from the iron coin.
"I think you-" the dwarf interrupted her and she looked up from her palm . "Lass, the names Greyson and  that's A gift. From me to you." he gave her a quick wink, " you keep that on you for good luck." As he turned back to his game. A quick smile, another small curtsey and she was off, collecting cups from other tables.
"Keeping out of trouble, boys?" she asked the two other bouncers at the front of the tavern. They replied back with their usual playful retorts.
Then from behind her clear as day, she heard the word that was responsible for starting more bar fights than she'd had hot dinners.
"Cheat!" Accused Greyson's losing opponent as he slammed his fist down on the table, sending game pieces in all directions.
"Ye call me that again, boy, and you and yer little friends here, will be sittin' down to piss fer the rest o' yer lives." He threatened . "Now take yer ugly faces out of here, like the losers ye are so I can count yer money."
"How's about we just take back what's-"
Lucius' hand slapped down on the angered man's shoulder as Daisy watched by the entrance as the other bouncers quickly moved in to stand behind the Dwarf. She'd be out the door in a flash and up to the guardhouse a few streets from here to alert the city watch.
"If you have a dispute, take it up with the Magistrates in the morning." Warned Lucius who had his small club readied in his other hand. "There will be no trouble here tonight."
"All right boys," said the leader of the trio as he raised his arms and stood slowly, turning to face Lucius as he did. Two dozen  more men and women stood up as Lucius realised they all wore some kind of red sash, belt or bandana!

The distraction created by the other sashes was all that was needed for a hidden blade to be stuck repeatedly and brutally into Lucias. In the blink of an eye and a scream of grief, the inn erupted into a brawl as loyal drinkers and bouncers tuned against anyone wearing a red sash.

With a great bellow Greyson pushed the table into his three aggressors, freeing Lucius from the grip of his attacker.
The precious seconds bought he spent immediately on Lucius.
Hands spread over the young boy bleeding out he muttered a few quick illegible words as a glow covered Lucius.
The blood visually slowed its flow from his body as a dagger struck the back of his concealed breast plate.
Greyson turned with the blow. And caught the young woman by the wrist, resisting the urge to set her alight with a thought, settling instead for a head-butt that spread her nose across her face. He flung her back sending her smashing through a turned over chair where she remained motionless.
"Hold on lad," Greyson said surveying the carnage unfolding. "Wasn't meant to happen this way." Lucias looked up as the pain took his consciousness. He heard the Dwarfs words before the blackness took the pain away.

Grubar

The fighting closest to the bards intensified as knives, bottles and chair legs were brought to bear.
Gruber, with on leg up on the footstool channelled his innate powers into his pipes and let forth a macabre dirge that effected all those in the immediate area. Most of the weapons from enemy and ally alike were dropped to the floor as those within his immediate vicinity succumbed to a terrible vertigo-like sensation. Gruber noticed a few of the brigands in sashes were able to shake off the musical assault. "Stubborn bastards!" He snorted.
Linny, rapier at the ready and lute strapped to her back leapt from table to table, slashing fingers and piercing  joints, disarming those who hadn't been stricken by Gruber's music.

A young man through gritted teeth growled as he managed to get a swing of a table leg off at the Forest Gnome. Smiling the whole time, Linny jumped and spun straight up and over the swing, landing with her rapier back in it's sheath and her trusty lute in hand with a chord held at the ready. Her other tiny hand raised in the air holding a silver plectrum.  Her little legs in a widened in stance as she brought the plectrum down and as the lute sang so did she, unleashing a high pitched shriek so magically charged that held him in place for several seconds!.
As he collapsed she spun back to Gruber, a massive smile on her face. "Ha!" She laughed as she leapt back to the stage where Gruber surveyed her work from. "Now that was a showstopper!"

Linny

Gruber nonchalantly pulled a piece of squashed bread out of each ear after a few moments. "Oh I'm sorry Linny, I didn't see you take down that one whelp," as he pointed and muttered at the pile of helpless brawlers. "eleven, twelve, thirteen." He sighed and patted his bagpipes. "I was too busy counting." he gloated.  

"Humph!" She retorted crossing her arms and frowning. " I'm surprised you could get past five without using your fingers!" Her childish features always made Gruber smile. She had real talent. Although he'd never admit it out loud. 

"When he two are finished measuring cocks!" Roared Greyson, a ruffian locked under each armpit

"Ooh! We're coming, Greyson! Linny cried out cheerfully waving her arm, signalling despite being only several meters away. She leapt into the fray as Grubar waded through the incapacitated crowd, mumbling half assed apologies whenever he accidentally trod on a hand. 

Daisy hadn't seen much of the brawl play out, she had burst through the Krakens double doors into an empty street in search of anyone that could alert the guards. 

Her eyes welled and her heart felt as if it had split, body shaking with each uncontrollable sob. The streets were barren. 

"Help!" she finally screamed in desperation, "Help us!"

"Oh I don't think there'll be any help for you, lass." Hissed a voice from behind her. She spun about with a gasp as the same man who had attacked her dear Lucias was stalking towards her. A bloodied female carrying two curved knives beside him. Terror rolled over her like a wave and thankfully her flight instinct took control. She turned and sped away as fast as her legs would carry her towards the darkness of the nearby alleyways.
 

The Warning. Hoard of the Dragon Queen -Rest period after Cyanwrath's Encounter *Spoilers*

Raan watched and listened at the doorway of what was once a kobold barracks in the winding tunnels of the Cults hideout.
Less than an hour before the company had squared off against Landrigosa, the Blue Half-Dragon that had duelled and defeated Kilvarax, the company's own Dragonkin warrior.
Although Landrigosa had acted honourably by allowing the hostages to go free once the duel was completed, Raan had sworn that he wouldn't allow something as trivial as honour to encumber the delivery of true justice.

He heard the tell tale scratching of Kil's clawed feet and the swish that his tail made as he pivoted. Then the clack, clack, clack as he approached. He controlled the urge to cringe at the noise it created, considering anything left in here likely knew their position.

In the dim light Raan gave him a nod to acknowledge his presence as Kil took up a flanking position on the other side of the door.
It seemed an eternity passed, neither of them looking at one another, maintaining their vigil for the sake of the camp.
"What you did," came Kil's guttural draconic voice, "was no small feat."
Raan looked briefly in surprise but for a moment.
"But  rob me of my vengeance again." Kil left the threat open.
Raan had thought about this conversation since the aftermath of the battle, anticipating such a confrontation.
It was in this moment that something else occurred to him.
"You're right. I acted hastily, and in doing so, took your chance for vengeance."
This caused Kil to offer a small sideways glance.
"I granted justice to all of those that devil would have maimed and killed in Greenest." Raan looked at him squarely. " The truest course of justice was to allow you the kill. To bare witness to the justice you would have wrought." He looked back to the doorway. "I won't make that mistake again."

Raan and Kilvarax finished the rest of the watch in silence.
Each respecting the other a little more than they'd ever let on.

Reassurance and Reward. - Hoard of the Dragon Queen

Raan closed the door to his room back at Nighthill's keep and immediately threw off his pack and cloak. He fumbled with the clasps on his breastplate as he suddenly felt as if it were a weight chrushing the air from his lungs.
With a final heave he flung it from him and as it clattered to the ground, so did he.
His undershirt was damp and it clung to him. Beads of sweat formed and ran down his face as he processed the events of the last few hours.

He took a deep, calming breath to steel his nerves and peeled the soaked garment off, feeling every muscle protest in doing so. Burns, cuts and bruises adorned his torso and arms. He and the band that had come together on the road to Greenest had endured so much in a short time.

Moving to his knees, Raan uncoupled his two swords and placed the longer blade out with in front of him to his right and the shorter to his left.
Finally he removed the pendant from around his neck. Placing it directly down in front of him.
He focused on it intently as he regulated his breathing. It's unblemished surface, the symbol of the hand holding a single coin, caught the  flickering light of the hearth. 
Soon the room fell away and there was only his swords, the coin and darkness as he slowly closed his eyes.
"My love." Came the ethereal whisper of his lost wife's voice. His eyes snapped open there standing before him in a field of grass stood his beloved. Adorned in a dress of royal blue, her favourite colour. It was decorated in the finest patterns and it clung to her slender frame. Her face was clear and full of colour. The Elven part of her heritage visable in the shape and clarity of her eyes, and the slight points of her ears peeking out from her flowing black hair that moved slightly in the breeze. A jeweled band of silver keeping it back from her face. In her hands, she held his sheathed sword against her breast.

He knew better to answer, as to risk breaking concentration was to risk losing this glorious vision.
"My love," she whispered again, "you are on a dangerous path. You honour your family with every life you save. The evil you extinguish makes the living world a better place."
The words washed over him like the suns rays breaking through a dark cloud.
He began to feel rejuvenated as the aches and pains of his last encounter ebbed away.
"But there is more danger ahead, Father."
Came the voice of his beloved daughter.
She appeared from behind her mother's skirts and moved to stand in front of Raan's smaller blade. "More people to help. More people that are in pain."
She was every bit her mother in appearance.  The same shaped eyes and face. She wore a simple dress, her hair in a plait. 

He watched her pick up the other sword that was bestowed upon him when Assuran had spared his life and gave him the choice.
"Let us both help you." Said his wife as she offered the hilt of the sword she carried.
"Father," came his little girls voice as she took a step forward, offering the other hilt. "Let me help too."
Raan reached out and grasped both hilts and in unison his family stepped backwards, keeping hold of the pair of swords and revealing their keen edges.
"Goodbye, Father."
"Go, my love."
They both spoke together as a blinding light struck Raan. He struggled to keep his eyes open not wanting to lose sight of his family.
He finally relented and looked away from the searing light to find himself back in his room within the keep, both blades now in his hands.
He stood up, completely renewed and healed. No marks of the battles upon him, no fatigue or aches, yet, something was different.
The two blades in his hands felt lighter than before. More of an extension in his hands than just two swords.
He made a small figure eight with the smaller of the swords that he had held in his left hand.
There was no clumsiness or feeling of being awkward or weaker. He put both the swords through a few simple drills and soon realised that he could use these weapons together, no weakness on one side or the other. He threw both blades up and caught them again in opposite hands without a hint of slowing down.
Faster and faster he spun the blades in unison until they were a humming blur of steel!
When he finally paused, he could not help but smile.
It was only then that he noticed the morning sun creep into the room from the open window. It was morning already? As his stomach growled the answer to his question.
He quickly strapped on his blades and donned a fresh shirt.
Before walking from the room he replaced any hint of happiness with his customary scowl. 

Appearances had to be maintained after all.