Patrols had been doubled since the attack by the Cult of The Dragon that had been thwarted by a band of heroes. Despite the severity of the attack, no additional backlash had been seen upon the streets, yet the Masked Lords had decreed that defences be intensified until further notice.
Swordcaptain Fasille led his unit of the City Watch along the routes within his section of Waterdeep. It had been a relatively dull night in the City of Splendours. A few checks on passers by, inquiries as to their business at this hour. Nothing out of the ordinary.
He heard a yawn coming from his unit, the night had been long and quite forgettable in terms of excitement. Aside from their uniforms, they were indeed a motley looking bunch. Fasille himself was a stocky man with a neatly cropped short hair and a well groomed beard. Behind him standing nearly a clear head taller were two women, twins it seemed as their features, right down to their braids and the grim visage they wore upon their faces were near identical.
Next, a leathery winged, red skinned figure skulked along with them, His white mane of hair divided with two spiralling obsidian like horns that symmetrically flowed down the back of his head. Aside him, walked a robed figure, cowl covering her face, a gleaming elegant blade sheathed across her back.
"Keep your eyes open," Fasille said, voice stern. "Our shift is almost done. Give it your best."
Finally, trudged a young man with blonde hair, a pony tail clasped in silver. An immaculately pressed uniform adorned his handsome frame, accentuating his features. Crossed over his tunic hung a horn, simple in design.
His eyes rolled as an audible sigh dramatically escaped his mouth at Captain Fasille's words. He'd heard him say the same thing on dozens of occasions.
"All I know is that I've two more shifts of this and I'm, - "
His words cut short as two bolts of emerald energy sizzled into the air, capturing the attention of the entire group with their blazing green light.
"Warehouse district," Fasille called out as he turned to his group. "Sobek, Silver, scout and return!"
The tiefling nodded, his wings unfurling with a sudden gust he sprang into the air as Felinar Silverfeld's hands weaved an intricate pattern with a feather held between her thumb and forefinger. It left visible lines of raw magic and coupled with arcane syllables the spell took hold and she followed the tiefling into the night sky, both speeding off towards the green beam's origin.
"Learis, Treja, double time. Wrinfeld sound 'Alarm' and 'Pursuit!'" Fasille turned and ran down the road towards the bridge, the twins right behind him. Wrinfeld sighed once more.
"I had to open my big mouth," he said before blasting three distinct rhythms alerting other watch of their intentions. In reply, other horns in the distance sounded their acknowledgement and their plan to reinforce.
Sobek and Silver landed alongside the rest as they neared the street where the beams had originated from.
"Knocked out thugs, piled on top of one another. Two patrols closing, less than two minutes out." Sobek reported without queue, Silver nodded to Fasille in agreement at the assessment.
"A green hue taints the lamps." Silver added as Fasille looked forward to see the emerald glow.
Fasille nodded at the information. "Shields and truncheons. Cordon and contain." He took point, the twins flanking him. Ahead six bodies were slumped atop one another, bleeding and battered, but breathing. Floating above them was an illusion. A glowing green flame surrounded by fluttering bats.
"Silver?" Fasille said with a familiar tone, prompting her to turn and assess the illusion. Fingers moving quickly, eyes closed.
"It's a calling card," she said still concentrating. "A name. Neifion?" She ended the spell.
"Scoring in several places indicate unstable energies used in this scuffle," pointing to the burn marks on the unconscious bodies. She then noticed the another mark upon the bodies. Roughly, pulling the topmost thug from the pile. A tattoo. A small triangle flanked by two elongated ones.
"Sobek, look!" said Silver with a tone of alarm.
He glanced over his shoulder, seeing the mark, before turning to the next thug and roughly dragged him down, rolling up the sleeve of his left arm."
Fasille noticed the reaction of his two most seasoned and experienced guards. "What is it? What does that mark mean?" He asked, before returning his eyes to scanning the environment.
"Asmodeus." Sobek stated grimly. "They bare the mark of The Lord of The Nine Hells."
"Keep your eyes open," Fasille said, voice stern. "Our shift is almost done. Give it your best."
Finally, trudged a young man with blonde hair, a pony tail clasped in silver. An immaculately pressed uniform adorned his handsome frame, accentuating his features. Crossed over his tunic hung a horn, simple in design.
His eyes rolled as an audible sigh dramatically escaped his mouth at Captain Fasille's words. He'd heard him say the same thing on dozens of occasions.
"All I know is that I've two more shifts of this and I'm, - "
His words cut short as two bolts of emerald energy sizzled into the air, capturing the attention of the entire group with their blazing green light.
"Warehouse district," Fasille called out as he turned to his group. "Sobek, Silver, scout and return!"
The tiefling nodded, his wings unfurling with a sudden gust he sprang into the air as Felinar Silverfeld's hands weaved an intricate pattern with a feather held between her thumb and forefinger. It left visible lines of raw magic and coupled with arcane syllables the spell took hold and she followed the tiefling into the night sky, both speeding off towards the green beam's origin.
"Learis, Treja, double time. Wrinfeld sound 'Alarm' and 'Pursuit!'" Fasille turned and ran down the road towards the bridge, the twins right behind him. Wrinfeld sighed once more.
"I had to open my big mouth," he said before blasting three distinct rhythms alerting other watch of their intentions. In reply, other horns in the distance sounded their acknowledgement and their plan to reinforce.
Sobek and Silver landed alongside the rest as they neared the street where the beams had originated from.
"Knocked out thugs, piled on top of one another. Two patrols closing, less than two minutes out." Sobek reported without queue, Silver nodded to Fasille in agreement at the assessment.
"A green hue taints the lamps." Silver added as Fasille looked forward to see the emerald glow.
Fasille nodded at the information. "Shields and truncheons. Cordon and contain." He took point, the twins flanking him. Ahead six bodies were slumped atop one another, bleeding and battered, but breathing. Floating above them was an illusion. A glowing green flame surrounded by fluttering bats.
"Silver?" Fasille said with a familiar tone, prompting her to turn and assess the illusion. Fingers moving quickly, eyes closed.
"It's a calling card," she said still concentrating. "A name. Neifion?" She ended the spell.
"Scoring in several places indicate unstable energies used in this scuffle," pointing to the burn marks on the unconscious bodies. She then noticed the another mark upon the bodies. Roughly, pulling the topmost thug from the pile. A tattoo. A small triangle flanked by two elongated ones.
"Sobek, look!" said Silver with a tone of alarm.
He glanced over his shoulder, seeing the mark, before turning to the next thug and roughly dragged him down, rolling up the sleeve of his left arm."
Fasille noticed the reaction of his two most seasoned and experienced guards. "What is it? What does that mark mean?" He asked, before returning his eyes to scanning the environment.
"Asmodeus." Sobek stated grimly. "They bare the mark of The Lord of The Nine Hells."
