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The torturer
I had a really good time role-playing the other night with a couple
of other characters. So, to commemorate the event, I thought
I'd write a little story. Actually, it's a little long. Bear with me.   -- Bercilak
"The Torturer"
Bercilak stumbled into Darkhaven square. His body
ached from the battle he had just fought with the umber hulk
near the Drow caverns. Blood trickled down his body as he
thanked Gareth for the narrow escape his ability to recall to
the safety of the city had given him. Even if Gareth, Owl and
the other gods had left the realm, the magic they had long ago
imbued in the blood of those willing to risk their lives for glory,
fame, or infamy still worked. The ability to magically return to
the center of Darkhaven was a blessing to Bercilak now.
Bercilak collapsed near the fountain, replaying his
latest battle, trying to find a reason for his ineptitude in fighting
the great earth creature. Bercilak snapped from his reverie as
he noticed a tall, thin robed being watching him. Bercilak
closed his eyes and let his mind spread its tendrils through the
fabric of reality, scanning for the identities of the major
adventurers currently active in Arathnos. Bercilak smiled.
"Malthus," he grunted.
The robed Malthus nodded. "Bercilak. You look
wounded."
"Umber Hulk not want to wrestle. Bercilak want to,"
the half-troll snorted.
Malthus nodded solemnly.
Bercilak took a quick drink from the fountain.
His wounds were healing nicely. His trollish constitution
worked wonders on injuries. Of course, a lot was needed
to even truly injure a troll. A lot was needed to remove
anyone who had been blessed with adventurer's blood from
the world. The gods had seen fit to allow all true questers to
only die a temporary death. As one body died, a new one
formed, and the spirit was transferred. The even was not
entirely painless. The new body was usually not entirely
healthy and required healing before being operational, and
lost equipment stayed lost until the recently-departed-and-
reformed returned to retrieve their belongings from their corpse.
Bercilak had seen many awful things in his day, but he had
never quite gotten used to seeing his recently departed body
laying before him, staring up at him with dead eyes. A soft
touch at his belt snapped Bercilak from his meditations on
death.
A shadowy figure tried to steal away into the crowd,
carrying with him Bercilak's purse. Bercilak reached out
swiftly and grabbed the thief around the neck. Bercilak
clenched his fist tight, and the thief's head popped off and
landed at Malthus' feet. Bercilak took his purse from the
corpse and settled back in by the fountain.
Malthus stared at the corpse.
"He took purse," explained Bercilak.
Malthus nodded warily, "He apparently picked the
wrong person to try his skills on."
Bercilak chuckled.
A young man wearing a green cloak and yellow
tunic stepped into the Square and headed for Malthus. He
planted a thick staff in the ground and leaned on it. "I need
help finding a key," he said to Malthus, ignoring the half-troll
dozing in the sun.
Malthus and the young man exchanged a few words
while Bercilak searched the ether again for the name of the
near-boy that talked to Malthus. Colcun. The Pup. An old man
wandered into the Square and sat at the edge of the fountain,
idly tapping his cane against the stone. Bercilak listened to
Malthus and Colcun, trying to figure out if it was worth his
time to help the young man. (tap, tap, tap, tap.)
"I'll offer 1000 pieces of gold if (tap, tap, tap,
tap, tap) you'll help me get past Wilam the torturer," Colcun
said.
Bercilak's ears perked up. One thousand gold
wasn't much to one of his stature, but it would buy him
quite a few turkeys. And with his trollish metabolism, he
needed all the turkeys he could get. Bercilak stood and
loomed over Colcun, casting his shadow across him."What
you need again, pup?" he asked.
"I need someone to help me retrieve a (TAP,TAP,
TAP,TAP) key from Wilam, the torturer in Dragon Exports,"
Colcun re-explained.
Bercilak glared at the old man tapping his cane.
"How tough (TAP,TAP,TAP) Wilam?"
"I'm sure you could handle him (TAP,TAP,TAP,
TAP) without any trouble," Colcun said, looking up into the
troll's snaggled grin.
"Me hurt. Let (TAPP, TAPPP, TAPPPP)," Bercilak
broke off in mid sentence and backhanded the old man.
His frail body soared across the fountain and smashed into
a building, landing limp and broken on the ground. "Let heal,
then me go with you," Bercilak finished.
Colcun stared in disgust at the shattered old man. He
thought briefly about turning down the assistance from the
troll; he wouldn't want to have the gargantuan warrior turn his
random sense of violence on him.
Malthus looked at Bercilak, "You're quite the
mercenary."
Bercilak glowered at Malthus, "What you call me?"
Malthus gulped, "A mercenary."
The half-troll lowered his face even with Malthus.
"What that?" he asked menacingly.
"Umm," Malthus said weakly, afraid he had offended
the looming warrior, "it means you kill things for money."
He smiled weakly.
Bercilak thought. Language wasn't his strongest ability.
He spoke a little dwarven, but that had mainly been so he'd
know what they were screaming as he ripped their legs off.
Common was at best, a pidgen language. His lips had trouble
forming the weak consonants, so his mind had trouble grasping
the grammar. Kill things for money. He figured that wasn't so
bad. He smiled at Malthus, "Heh. Yeah."
Colcun looked at the troll. "So, you'll help me?"
"Yeah," Bercilak grunted, "After all, me merce.
merkemersha.what he said!" He pointed a meaty finger
at Malthus.
Malthus smiled, "A mercenary."
Bercilak grinned at Colcun, "Yeah."
Colcun nodded. "Very well then. Let's go."
A short trip later, Colcun and Bercilak stood at the
entrance to Dragon Exports. Colcun said the password and
slipped inside. Bercilak fumbled with the password, but got
it right on the third try. Inside, they walked to the front office
and approached Belesdan, the merchandiser for the Export
company. Colcun stepped towards a concealed door on the
eastern wall. Belesdan leaped up and started toward
Colcun, "You can't go in there!"
Colcun stayed focused on finding the latch for the
door, "Bercilak, stop him."
Bercilak grunted and plunged his spear into
Belesdan's throat, blood spurting across the room. Belesdan
collapsed. The half-troll wiped his spear off and muttered
about the ease of the kill.
A secret door and two sliding traps later landed
Colcun and Bercilak right on top of a zombie. Although
a more difficult battle than the previous one, Bercilak
quickly dispatched the zombie. "Through that door is
Wilam," Colcun said.
Bercilak took the key off the dead zombie and
opened the door. As he stepped into the room, the door shut
behind him, blocking Colcun out of the room. When
Bercilak turned to the door, Wilam attacked. His meager
attempt bounced off the half-troll's armor, leaving a small
scratch. Bercilak turned and thrust his spear at the torturer,
holding his longsword to the side to force the torturer to
dodge in the opposite direction. Wilam vainly slashed and
punched at the half-troll, but the warrior's longer reach kept
the smaller torturer from doing any real harm. Slowly and
methodically, Bercilak worked Wilam until he could no
longer dodge. With a flick of his massive wrist, Bercilak
lopped the torturer's head off. As he wiped the evil
pain-inflictor's blood off his spear, Bercilak opened the
door for Colcun.
Colcun rushed in and headed for the body.
"He kick key as he die," Bercilak grunted.
"Yes, I know," Colcun muttered, "But where is
it?" Colcun searched the ground for a minute before finding
a small hunk of metal that slightly resembled a key. Colcun
cursed, "This isn't the right one. We'll have to wait for his
next to arrive and see if he has it." He lead Bercilak into a
small anteroom to the north, and the two adventurers waited.
Below them, the chants of dark rituals echoed in the stillness.
Colcun peeked southward. "He's back."
Bercilak stepped through the door and slashed at the
torturer who was still staring dumbfoundedly at his
previous's corpse. Bercilak felt a vague sense of joy that
monsters suffered the same sense of loss as adventurers. Wilam
vainly defended himself, but unlike adventurers, he carried no
recollection of his clone's death, and fell for the same spear
and sword technique that his previous incarnation had fallen
for. The battle was quickly over. Colcun searched hurriedly.
"Ah ha! I've got it," Colcun exclaimed.
Bercilak grunted.
Colcun fumbled around in his purse and
methodically counted out 2000 coins and handed them to the
half-troll. "You did me a great favor. If you ever need my
help, let me know."
Bercilak grinned as he put away the coins, "Same
for you."
Colcun smiled, "However, you really ought to stay
away from killing the senior citizens."
Bercilak thought for a moment. He grunted, "Okay.
They break easy anyway."
Colcun stepped away and muttered the words that
would send him back to the center of Darkhaven. Bercilak
fingered his pouch of coins. "Enough for three turkeys," he said
to the dead torturer. He muttered the words that would recall
him to his clan's building. As he faded from view, he smiled,
"Maybe Umber Hulk ready to wrestle again"
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