The camp was full of patrons surrounding the fire. A trio over by Ritham reaquainting and seemingly talking of friendships. An archdruid and a female spellcastered talk in whispers to the north, propped against the trees. A muscle packed barbarian holding a greatswords stands idle just south of the pair. Meanwhile, a conversation brews between a pair around the campfire.
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Minutes have passed since Jerrick had left camp. I really wondered if he would take care of his new mastercrafted shortswords. No matter, for the gesture was a noble one. But this woman, this elf, now she took great care in her weapons. Even more so then myself. Her agile hands craft those arrows with great effort and care. Hmmmm, I wonder...
"You wouldn't happen to craft bolts as well? I'd rather have mine crafted with the passion of another elf."
The fletcher finished up her task at hand, cleaned up, and took seating near Ssz'Imza. Sparking and popping with freshly cut wood, the fire had a bit more life in it this night. It shivered, at times, in an unseen wind. Though, it lit the emerald green orbs in the fletcher quite well. Ssz'Imza learned her name was Morwen and by her appearance, a wood elf and a forest ranger by trade. The two traded words of boltcrafting. The wood elf was currently unknowledgable of bolt crafting, but would look into it.
A growl came from the barbarian, seemingly standing at piece. It cut through the peaceful ambiance. The archdruid, Volfen, and the magess the witch were still talking in whispers. Every so often a bit of their conversation audible. Keyn, Fera'wyn, and a female in red. Her name was not spoken that Zim had heard. She was reffered to as Rain. They split up their ways and Keyn sat as the fire was well. Not a peep was heard of the raging human again. He remained idle.
A rush of wind flew past me. Damn me for being not being focused! I looked around to see what was going on. Morwen had been cut by the rage of the human's greatsword. He hit once then ran a distance. He was paralyzed. I did not want the elven crafter to bleed to death. Where would I get as well crafted bolts then? Damn this human. I want to kill him for interupting my peace. My blade found his throat and was ready to penetrate, but the whole camp was watching. Who knows, one of these patrons could be from the ULA. Last thing I need is them on my ass. The Banites are a handful as it is. Keyn was talking to the barbarian. My hand was trembling with desire to run this bastard through. It would not be the smartest thing to do in the eye of the public. I sheathed my blades and stood idle, cooling my own fires within. Morwen seemed fine enough, after I checked on her wounds.
The moon elf, took focus on the conversations at hand. Apparantly, as Volfen claimed, Ashara was controling the barbarians actions. She denied it, of course. There was still no proof she was the source. Keyn and the barbarian left for interrogation. Meanwhile, a Paladin, Duncan by name, traded finely crafted elven goods with Ssz'Imza. The moon elf paid quite well, a generous donation.
Morwen took shelter in the shadows under the trees just north east, out of the fire light. I checked on her, and let her know that I could take care of the problem for her, had she the right coin amount to persuade me to do so. Then Keyn and the barbarian returned. Vico, no longer weilding his weapon, approached us. He raised his hands in surrender. I've fought at his side before. He was a barbarian, but he had reasons for his actions. This was all out of place. The witch was playing with a flower and seemed not to care about any of this after the main confrontation was over. She just bickered with Volfen. She was the only one who did not react right away. I am no lawman, but, I'd act similar to how see did if I controlled this barbarian. Yes, Vico approached and I kept my hands away from my blades.
"I'm" the barbarian grunted, "I'm sorry for my actions."
"No need to apologize for actions that were not yours to control." I said, staring at the witch, watching her play with that flower. Vico and Morwen traded words. I'm far more focused now, if anything should happen. The squirrels running through the canopy, Keyn's footsteps leaving camp. I hear and see it all.
Vico raised his arms, almost zombie like and headed for the wood elf. I unsheathed my blades, prepaired to take action. Unlike the rest of those in camp. Though, I should wait to see what he does. It could save my ass if the ULA has it's eyes in the shadows. He wrapped his thumbs around her throat and squeezed. That's my sign...
The assassin's blades moved quickly on the human. Though, there was so much muscle on him, it was difficult to penetrate through it all to a vital. Especially since his main focus was a Ssz'Imza after a few hits.
Satisfied with the amount of blood drawn form the human, Ssz'Imza back off and render himself invisible. Ashara was casting spells of her own, as he figured. He struck the witch in the back. His rapier grinded against her spinal column and burst through her chest. She lay limply on it. In one swift movement, he drew free and aimed for the heart. She lay lifeless. Ssz'Imza retreated to the barbarian.
Vork was still choking the fletcher. It seemed the witch wasn't behind this afterall. No matter, I'll make quick work of him. He does not know I've returned.
A human walked up, wielding a greataxe. Ssz'Imza told him to grab a body. He obided and they took the fresh carcasses to the trash pile. The rats needed a decent meal, especially for not causing the ruckus in camp this time.
"It seemed those Paladins are rubbing off on you." The human joked.
"Yes, perhaps they are." Or so I wished it to appear. This is going to work out quite well, now that I have a few good deeds under my belt.
My arm was brushed and cut by the fight with the now deceased Vico. I semi-joked with Morwen about her being in my debt. I had saved her life twice in less than an hour. But, she agreed and we returned to the fire where she began bandaging my wounds. The odd drow was claiming I had a more selfish reason for doing what I did. But of course, but not all see it that way. I do not get him. Most know of his race, but he hides it, clothed up on the warmest of nights. Yet, sometimes he'll sit almost naked, even when the wind bites at ones ears.
Morwen's agile hands healed me up quite fast. The wound was even gone. Then I realized there was a man's hand on me. His greeting was quite irritating. Samil was a worthy travel companion, but he just ruined the purpose for the attention I was getting. It was quite nice to have a woman want to give me a bit of attention, rather than the soul swallowing succubus I spend random nights with. When Samil feels generous enough to summon her for me.
After I mildly told him off, he went to talk to the magess that travels with us. Morwen and I discussed the situation with Volfen. Apparently, the witch was not dead and she may return. Great. Now my good deed may be more of a hassle than I had hoped.
I traded words with Morwen, I even gave her my old cloak. Wether I liked it or not, her and I are in this together now. I could kill her and offer her dead body to the witch, but it was still my blade that put her to rest, even if temporary. It's best if I aid Morwen. She shares a similar preference of keeping silent and in the shadows. Perhaps she I could even teach her a thing or two. If this Ashara witch shows her face again, it would be quite beneficial if I had someone at myside that would distract the witch and make slaying her again easier.
She, the emerald eyed wood elf, removed her hood. It was odd seeing her without it, just because she seemed to find great safety in it. She thanked me and agreed that she is still quite in my debt. Heh, if she trusts me this much, maybe I can make a deal with the witch and bring Morwen to her alive. Then maybe she'll get off my ass.
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With that though, Ssz'Imza put a hand to his bubbling stomach. It hurt, he wanted to vomit. It burned, it even rose to his chest. It did not feel an illness, but far worse. He looked around, wondering if anyone is seeing this or even offering an explanation. He gazed into her eyes, the emerald green. Ironic how they're the symbolic color of poison. Even more ironic that Ssz'Imza himself is quite fond using it's aid. He blinks and let's the thought pass. Through his quick scan, his keen eyes set upon the eulogy in the headstone to the north. He did not read it, he did not even fully comprehend it, but his instict made his stomach hurt worse.
The justice-bringing assassin made quite the rude gesture in the headstone's direction. He start to exit the camp with parting words directed to the elf's life he saved.
"Don't die. You've quite the debt to repay."
The light of the camp faded, and the unprecedented stomach illness fled at the sight of Samil and Kyra on the boat to Neverwinter.
