THE CHRONICLES OF MERICK

PART I of III

(When you start reading it, it seems as if it would go on forever. It speeds up. Please bare with it. I have condensed certain points in the game to make it faster and more readable. Trust me, it's worth a read ;) Feedback is appreciated so I don't feel so lonely in this thread [img]tongue.gif[/img] )


PROLOGUE:

Name: Merick

Race: Dwarf

Class: Fighter

Alignment: Chaotic Evil

Skills: long sword ++
long bow ++

stats:
STR: 18/26
DEX: 17
CON: 19
INT: 5
WIS: 12
CHA: 16

Character Profile:
Merick always dreamed of roaming the plains as a walking deity, powerful and feared by all. He is selfish, impatient and full of hate. In reality he is selfish and obsessed with his own obsession for his own strength. His lust to spill blood often gets in the way of his interests which sometimes gets him into rough situations, but still, he is witty and always has an escape route and a road to victory.

Racial Advantages:
Dwarves have the highest resistance to poison and magic (saving throws) of all classes which protect them from being effected by spells and the effects of spells. Also, dwarves have high constitution meaning higher Hit Points. At 20 CON they gain regeneration. Merick stands a over half-foot taller than most Dwarves (the screen shots are misleading…)

[ 04-04-2007, 09:33 PM: Message edited by: Rockstar ]

PROLOGUE: THE STORY BEGINS

Recently things had been changing across the farum. Bandit raids had escalated higher than ever before in only a year. The local economy was taking a heavy down turn. The two major mines, in cloakwood and Nashkel, were struggling to produce any pure iron, and the ore they could gather was of poor quality. Over the past months bandits were specifically targeting the caravans carrying iron to be imported from distant lands which meant that only sourch of iron was the inferior ore that the mines were producing. The military was struggling to find the iron wares to create decent swords that would not break in mid battle and uncertainty was looming everywhere.

Merick grew up in the town of Candlekeep. A large town conceiled by a heavy stone wall which overlooked the ocean. Merick never knew who his real parents were and was raised by his foster father, Gorion, a wise and powerful mage, the most respected in all of Candlekeep. He was looked upon differently as dwarves were none in Candlekeep but he was never bothered by it as he was very physically intimidating to his peers. While not interested in schooling, he spent many hours in the library with his foster father, Gorion, studying warfare and ways of the blade. He foresaw himself as an excellent warrior and had now just reached adulthood. There was always something about Merick that the townsfolk deemed as somewhat super natural. His use of a blade and bow seemed to reflect that of a veteran warrior and his ability to learn new tricks, skills and strategies in combat was unexplainable. Gorion was the only person who nurtured his gifts of combat, and as his talents rose, so did his hatred for everything around him. Merick hated that he had suffered the upbringing of not knowing who he really was and being the only dwarf. Soon this hate developed into a chaotic lust for destruction. He found great use for his physical strength, and while he was not skilled at magic, he did not see this as a downfall as most dwarves were not. Gorion was always worried at the evil nature of Merick’s ways. Merick carried much hatred. It almost seemed as if he was possessed by a power so great it consumed his humanity. Merick still held respect for his foster father as he was a powerful mage and looked up to by the townsfolk due to his magical skill, but thought his father was not a fool for exploiting the gifts he had. “The man could rule Candlekeep and the nearby towns with an iron fist, yet he chooses to waste his days in the library…” Merick thought to himself. He continued to be trained with weapons, particularly the sword as his teacher was a swordsman. He also spent many hours at the archery range firing bows. Merick trained as if there were no tomorrow but didn’t know why. He felt his life lacked significance and always felt as if Gorion was too restrictive. He wanted to adventure but there was never a reason why…


CHAPTER 1:
ACT I
A Rude Awakening

Merick woke up startled by Gorion who was shaking him in a panicked fluster. “Awake child! Wake up!” the said. Gorion shoved a bag of gold into Merick’s hand and told him “This is all the spare gold I have. With it by all the wares you need… We are leaving Candlekeep and must do so before sunset!” Merick was quick to wake up and spoke in his deep dwarven voice, “What has happened? What would worry you so much that you would wake me in such a hurry.” “I will explain in due time my child.” Gorion insisted and then paced quickly out of the room. Merick pocketed the bag of gold and walked to the tavern to by some wares.

Merick pushed through the doors. “How ya doin’ young Merick!” Exclaimed Windthrop, the tavern keeper. “I do not have time for your petty chatter! I’m leaving soon and I need wares not gossip” Snapped Merick. Windthrop was silent with an angry and upset expression on his face before telling Merick “Ye spiteful tongue will give ye what’s coming to ya… The townsfolk have done nothin’ but look out for ya since you were brought here and this is how you treat us? You have the worst reputation of anyone your age by far. You start fights and talk back to your elders. Now why should I serve you after hearin’ that?” Merick tilted his head and eyed Windthrop and stepped closer before telling him “Because my father is Gorion…. now get me a sword and that split mail in the corner.” Windthrop slowly made his way to the wares and got what Merick asked for. Merick placed all his gold on the table and Windthrop took what he wanted and left little change. “This is absurd! Look how much you have charged me for these!?” Exclaimed Merirk. “Your place is not to question with me young one.” Replied Windthrop. Merick stared at the blade on the counter, tempted with evil thoughts, but instead collected his left over gold and walked out of the tavern.

Merick knew that there was still a while before Gorion was ready so he walked to the barracks in the hope to find some work. He hated having to help people with errands but he had run low on gold and needed a bow. He spoke to the head of the barracks, Fuller, who got him to deliver some bow bolts and a sword to some soldiers. Merick grudgingly did the task only to get the gold, which he took to purchase a bow (a short bow was all he could afford). He walked to the library but bumped into Imoen on the way.

Imoen was a young girl almost the same age as Merick. She was the only friend Merick ever had, and the only other he had ever cared for. She was like a sister to him and could not remember her parents either. She was human and beautiful of face and was quite skilled as a thief. She scuttled up to Merick and spoke “Hey ya! Why are you in such a hurry?” “You’re right, I am in a hurry and I’ve no time to speak.” Merick replied and barged past her. Merick didn’t fear anything but the feeling of not knowing what was happening made him feel uneasy. So uneasy that he wasn’t at all comfortable. He could see Gorion and began walking towards him, but as soon as Gorion lay eyes on him, he ran straight down to Merick and asked “Do you have everything you need child?” Merick nodded. “Then lets go.” They immediately started walking. On the way Gorion explained that if anything happened or if they were separated, to head to the friendly arm in, just north-east of Candlekeep and to look for a couple of elven travelers named Jaherra and Khalid. Merick asked again what was happening but Gorion gave the same response, that he would explain in due time. Merick lost patients and yelled “Stop being a wise old coot and tell me where we are going! NOW!” Gorion’s eyes lit up in rage. “How dare you speak to me that way. If you know what is good for your safety you will follow me now!” Merick and Gorion left the gates of Candlekeep and headed north east, through a forest trail, to the Friendly Arm Inn.

[ 04-03-2007, 10:40 PM: Message edited by: Rockstar ]

CHAPTER 1
ACT II
The Armoured Figure

Gorion pressed forward at quite a quick pace. It was as if he was trying to get away from Candlekeep as quickly as possible. There was no chance for conversation as all effort was aimed at moving forward quickly. By the time the moon rose they already been walking for a couple of hours. Merick and Gorion entered a forest, only guided by one torch held by Gorion. Gorion did not have age on his side and visibly needed to rest soon, yet he still pressed on. The two walked up a steep hill covered in trees and when they got to the top they were greeted by a series of dark figures standing under one hundred metres away. “Stop.” Gorion said calmly. Merick found himself with his hand resting on the handle of his dagger. Clearly they had both run head on into the danger that Gorion was trying to evade...

Both Gorion and Merick put their hands on the hilts of their blades as they saw the party advance on them. The leader of them was obvious. A tall dark armored figure, and with him, two ogres and a young female mage. The man stood at a menacing near-seven feet, carrying a large sword and covered in heavy armor that seemed magical upon appearance. The sword the armoured man carried would have needed to be held in two hands by a normal man, but their enemy held it comfortably in his right hand. Merick started to feel his heart pounding but I was not afraid. Finally his foolish father might have the courage to use his powers for what they are meant for.

Gorion did not chose to run as he knew that they were outnumbered and all they could do now was stand and fight. The dark party stopped about twenty metres away from them. The armored man addressed in a deep, dark voice “You know why I’m here. Hand over your ward and you will remain unharmed.” Gorion replied angrily “You are a fool to think I would trust your benevolence… now step aside and you and your lackies will remain unhurt…” The armoured man laughed in a deep taunting voice and spoke “I’m sorry that you feel that way old man.” Gorion wasted no time and started casting and launched a large bolt of lightning at one of the ogres. The ogre did not see it coming and got struck in the heart then feel to the ground dead. Merick’s eyes gleemed as he thought to himself “finally the old fool actually uses the power the gods gave to him!”

The dark figure pointed his sword at Merick and the ogre advanced on him. The female mage created a flaming arrow with her hands and cast it at Merick. Merick jumped out of the way but the arrow hit him in the shoulder and he fell hard on his back. The fire arrow dug deep into Merick’s shoulder before falling into a pile of cinders which burnt his chest, which he frantically brushed off. Gorion looked at Merick in desperation and cried out “Run child! RUN!” Merick knew that he was not ready for a battle like this, especially now he was wounded. For him to become truly powerful that he would have to live and fight another day. He scrambled to his feet and ran deep into the forest till he found a thick hedge to hide behind. There he could see the fight without being noticed. The ogre lost sight of Merick and turned around to face Gorion only to be greeted by a lightning bolt to the face, killing him instantly.

The dark, armoured figure was still a distance away, but began slowly advancing on Gorion. The female mage stood back and cast four red magic stars at Gorion. Gorion replied by casting four of his own which destroyed hers in mid air. Gorion then took the initiative and created a fire arrow and launched it at her as she was casting another spell. The arrow hit her unarmoured chest and exploded into cinders that left her on her back, brushing away the cinders of her face and chest until she slowly stopped and died. Gorion turned to see the dark figure was nearly in front of him and quickly cast four magic missle stars at the figure. Each star hit Gorion’s enemy but each missle only seemed to wind his enemy for the moment and almost straight away, the armoured figure stood upright again and began advancing on him again. Gorion quickly launched an arrow made of pure acid, but the armoured figure was now right in front of him and blocked it with his hand. The man hissed lightly as the acid ate away at the armour on his wrist. Before Gorion could began to cast again the dark figure smashed him in the face with a backhand from his empty fist. Gorion tumbled to his knees with his back exposed to his opponent. He forced himself focus and rose to his feet. He clenched his fists ready to cast and went to turn around. In an instant, Gorion arched his back and howled in pain as the armoured figure ran his blade all the way through Gorion’s mid-back. The dark figure ensured the blade was pushed in as far as it would go and Gorion went loose before the sword was removed from him and he fell lifelessly to the ground.

The dark figure began walking around searching for Merick. He only looked around for a few feet before giving up on what he knew would be a waste of a search. The armoured man made his way back over the hill he came from and passed the female mage, who was actually still barely alive but now blind from her injuries. “Help my lord. I cannot see! Take me with you.” plead the women as she grabbed the man’s leg. The armoured man drove his sword into the women before continuing over the hill. Merick could hardly believe what he had just seen. His eyes burnt with anger and the lust for revenge. Merick lay down against the bush he had been hiding behind and slept for the few hours left until the sun rose.

[ 04-01-2007, 09:46 PM: Message edited by: Rockstar ]

CHAPTER 1
ACT III
Unwelcome Company

Merick awoke still stunned by the events that had transpired the night before. That strange man had killed his foster father and more importantly made an attempt on his life. Merick checked his equipment. He still had his bow, some arrows and the long sword he had got from candlekeep. He had chain mail but it was not of the best quality. He would have to find better equipment soon in order to feel safe. There was somebody after him and he knew he would have to be ready. Merick knew the next best step would be to follow Gorion’s advice and to head north-east towards the Friendly Arm Inn. Merick made his way down the road.

After an hour of lonely walking Merick heard a russling in the bushes behind him. He drew his bow and an arrow and aimed it at the bush. “Hey, don’t shoot!” said a familiar young girl’s voice. “What are you doing here?” Yelled Merick. “I’m here to look after ya.” Chirped Imoen. “You are foolish to have followed me here and you will only slow me down! Gorion was killed last night and you will have no better chance if you don’t go back home to Candlekeep now!” Imoen’s face went pale and her eyes welled with tears. “Gorion’s dead? …” Merick stared cruely at her impatiently. “I’ll head back … ya know where best friends still but I’ll wait till you change your tune.” Imoen wiped the tears from her eyes. “I’ll tell the others about Gorion’s passing. Goodluck.” Merick didn’t say a word and watched her walk in the distance. Just as Imoen was nearly out of sight he called out “Travel safely child!” Why Merick did not slay her where she stood for stalking him, he did not know. As ruthless as he was, she was as close to kin to Merick as any other ever was and what honour he had, he would use to stop her from coming to harm. …Even still if she returned he would remove her head from her shoulders for simply disrespecting his power.

CHAPTER 1
ACT IV
The Wizard in Red

Merick walked a lonely trail northeast for a near day, until he finally saw a huge castle like inn in the distance, just as Gorion said. The only company Merick was a small wolf which he put an arrow through and ate. Merick saw two evil looking travelers standing and arguing on the side of the road he was walking up. One was a mage and the other was a Halfling swordsman. The wizard introduced himself as Xzar and his hobbit companion as Monteron. They said they were headed towards the Friendly Arm Inn and offered Merick a place with them. Merick had not the patients to even speak with them after what had recently happened to him "Get out of my way. I don't need any help!" Merick spat back them. "I should smite you down where you stand." The hobbit said intimidatingly. "Come now Monteron." The wizard said, "He'll get what's coming to him." Merick muttered to himself, "I think not." The two turned their backs on him and started walking towards the Inn. Merick noticed a purse on the back of the halfling’s belt. He raised his bow and shot the mage in the back killing him. The Halfling spun around and charged at Merick. Merick dropped his bow and drew his blade and waited for the Halfling to charge at him. Merick rolled to the side of the amateur Halfling fighter and drove his sword between the halfling’s ribs. Merick packed their gold and wares into his backpack and enjoyed a peaceful walk until he reached the gates of the friendly arm in.

Just as the gates were in sight, an old man approached him Merick. The man had a heavy grey beard that sat on top of his heavy red robes, with a red pointy hat. The man was obviously a sage of sorts and spoke to Merick as if he knew of him. The man introduced himself as Elminster and tried to bore Merick with ‘sage advice’ in the form of metaphors. Merick knew he would get nothing out of this wizard so he told the wizard to go away before he could make a point… Merick saw how the wizard’s mere presence struck respect and awe in people. But Merick would get that respect. “But not through wearing robes… but through the blood on his blade…”

[ 04-13-2007, 03:20 AM: Message edited by: Rockstar ]

CHAPTER 1
ACT V
The Friendly Arm Inn

As Merick approached the Friendly Arm Inn, the guards on top of the tower saw him and called for the drawbridge to be lowered. To Merick it looked like more of a fortress than an Inn, with small houses around a large, castle like centre, where the inn actually was.

Merick had to walk up a long set of steps to get to the main entrance of the Inn. on the way up a hooded man stood up the moment he saw Merick and walked over to him. The man asked him if his name was Merick. The dwarf replied “I don’t know who yer talkin’ about.” The stranger opened his cloak and exclaimed “Liar! You match this description exactly.” The man began casting what appeared to be a swarm of magic stars at Merick. He quickly jumped out of the way to dodge two red magic stars launched at him. As he hit the ground, Merick heard a voice yell out “Fire!” It was the captain of the guards patrolling the Inn. There were three archers already aimed at Merick’s attacker, but still Merick drew his sword and charged. The guards filled the caster with three arrows before Merick could get close. Merick ran his blade through the man’s gut and stared down at the man before he fell to the floor. Merick waited till the guards weren’t looking to grab the mage’s bag. It was filled with scrolls, some gold and a bounty with his name on it! The bounty had Merick described exactly. “A dwarf in above average height with a black beard, traveling alone or with few company.” This man must have personally received the bounty description as it hadn’t said who to collect the bounty from.

… “Nobody can be trusted any more… Nobody! I need no help anyway!” Merick thought to himself. In the tavern, two folk caught his eyes, they must be the friends of Gorions. Merick walked across the room and was approached by a stranger explaining that bandits had been attacking the caravans that deliver the iron from the outer towns. This was of little concern of Mericks so he walked up to Gorion’s friends. They were both elves by appearance, one a female named Jehira, the other a male named Khalid. They were obviously a couple and spoke with Merick and implied was that he needed protecting and that he was best with them … Merick replied sternly, “No! … I have made it this far on my own and I do not want to share my company with semi-talented card playing friends of my father’s! Take your own path because you are not welcome on mine…” Jahera spoke up and tried to convince Merick. “Your father foresaw this day and sent word to us to meet you both here. If you did not make it with him, you were to be escorted with us to the town of Nashkel.” Merick gleemed at her and rudely kept his silence. Merick only had just under 900 gold and still mediocre equipment … he knew they would have more than enough gold to keep him going for the time being. He raised his sword at Jehera’s throat and demanded all of their gold and potions. Khalid through their money and potion bag to him and Merick immediately, looked around and ensured that nobody had seen the robbery and backed away, making for the road.

Merick pondered about the events that had transpired as he walked away. He knew that the bounty on him had to be connected with Gorion’s killer. Gorion must have known that the enemy had heard word of a talented dwarf in Candlekeep and is why he was in such haste to leave.

Gorion's plan was to journey south Nashkel was owner of one of the only two iron mines on the Sword Coast. “A mine does not produce a whole area with iron ore and then suddenly go barren in a couple of months,” Merick thought to himself. "With all the bandit raids on imported iron, somebody is clearly starving the Coast of iron." Merick did not care the least for the troubles for the townsfolk of Nashkel, but at the moment he had no leads as to who his foster father's slayer was and any information might help light his way

Getting to Nashkel would mean having to go South the way he came and then continuing down through the forest and the town of Berigost, before finally reaching Nashkel. Merick thought it to be wisest to stay off the main roads for the time being, at least until he could aquire some decent equipment. He headed south but took a much more easterly route. Merick ventured into the Peldvale Forest.

[ 04-01-2007, 10:24 PM: Message edited by: Rockstar ]

CHAPTER 1
ACT VI
The Peldvale Forest

Merick was now a walking bounty holding a cruddy wooden bow and protected by a sword and armor that could fall apart if struck hard enough due to the poor iron in the area that was used to make them. Merick traveled east, into the Peldvale forest, before heading southbound to Beregost to avoid the main roads.

Merick ventured into the forest, set up camp and got some much needed rest. In the morning he went hunting for some food. After running into and killing some uneatable spiders and gibberlings, he found a large wolf that had not yet noticed him. Merick calmly drew his bow and aimed at the wolf’s torso, but as he pulled back the string the wolf fell down dead from an arrow to its side. Merick saw a hunter with a good quality large bow walk up to collect his kill. Merick new the authorities would not know who killed this man, this deep into the woods. Merick grinned as he thought to himself “Hunting the hunter…”. Merick waited till he had a clear shot and pierced the unarmored peasants heart. Merick upgraded himself to a long bow and got some arrows.

Merick knew that he would to find better equipment still to survive and the cover of forest was perfect for taking down enemies with stealth. Merick ventured further into the forest. He saw an unarmed man searching for help in the woods. Merick casually approached the man before the man introduced himself in a fluster, “My Lord, I-I am Farington… I desperately need you to find a scroll and –“ Merick ran his blade into the man’s gut. “In exchange for ye gold?” Merick smiled evilly into the dying man’s eyes. Merick took the man’s purse of petty gold before the man dropped to the ground dying. As the life left the man’s body, Merick felt as if something was entering his. His heart pounded and he felt stronger. He had felt this with all the enemies he had killed since Candlekeep, and it seemed to grow stronger in him with each he killed. He felt faster, stronger, quicker to think. As if there was more muscle inside his arms although they were the same mass. Merick could not explain what it but it was as if he was learning or gaining something more than just the experience from his battles. Strength in the deaths of others…

CHAPTER 1
Act VII
Battle with The Red Wizards of Thay

Merick finally reached a desert clearing. It was full of tall rock pillars that reached several meters in height and would at least provide some cover should he need it. The sun went down and he kept pressing on. In the distance he saw a fire and got closer, making sure he was undetected. Once close, Merick realised that these were not mere campers. They were Red Wizard’s of Thay. Powerful mages, while low in numbers were fanatical and performed group rituals, like what Merick was seeing. Merick’s heart began to pound. Even though he had killed others since leaving Candlekeep, he had not really won a fair fight yet.

The leader of the wizards told two of the four wizards to go and collect some more firewood. Merick stalked them and quickly shot them both in their backs with his bow. The arrows seared effortlessly through their red robes, but their screams were loud. Merick darted back to the camp to finish off the group, his heart raced as he had to dodge between the rows large rock pillars . Merick quickly staggered to a stop when he ran head on with the two remaining wizards, who were facing him less than ten meters away.
Merick’s heart sank but he still had hope, he was not in the open, or he would have surely been finished. The group were in the open in an area which was surrounded in rows of tall rock pillars around two meters wide and three meters apart. This with the cover of night gave Merick some advantage. The leader taunted “You will taste death this day you foolish dwarf!” Merick did not show intimidation as he replied. “And you, wizard, will taste my blade!”

The leader of the wizards cast four magic stars at Merick, but Merick was right next to a pillar and rolled out of the way. The stars chipped away large chunks of rock. The two wizards could not find Merick as they only had the moonlight to guide them. The leader walked ahead towards the pillar Merick had hidden behind. The second wizard, watching his master’s back, all of a sudden screamed a roaring scream as a blade poked out of his stomach. The leader turned around and launched a huge bolt of lightning. Merick quickly withdrew his blade and dived out of the way. The second wizard was knocked meters back into a pillar before falling down with his face black and his robes smoking. The leader was now panicking, he summoned up a ball of energy, ready to throw at his attacker in one hand, and held his staff tight in the other. The wizard frantically looked in all directions before catching a blink of his attacker jumping towards him with an overhead swing with his sword. The wizard’s spell fizzled into the air as he held his staff up with both hands to block the swing. The wizard tried to swing at Merick but Merick hooked the wizard’s staff with his sword and twisted it out his hand. The mage then aimed a ring on his right index finger at Merick’s head and screamed, “Farclah!”. Merick twisted his body out of the way to avoid a long stream of fire about the width of a fist. The same moment, Merick swung at the man’s extended hand and slicing fingers clean off. The man screamed and hunched holding his hand. Merick taunted arrogantly at the defeated Red Wizard. “Here you are, as promised.” Merick swung a lightning quick backhand swing across the wizard’s face, cutting it deep and splitting it wide open. Merick knelt down to examine the ring off the wizard’s severed finger. He put it on ring and aimed at the mage. Merick evil smile turned to an expression of hate and vengeance as he said. “Farchlah.” A jet of flame, a fist in diameter, lasting for about three seconds scorched the dying mage. The flame burnt through his robes and scorched his bare torso. Merick turned and walked away satisfied by the screams that only lasted a few moments. Merick checked the bodies for some more potions and some spell scrolls that would sell for a pretty penny when he finally reached Beregost.

CHAPTER 1
ACT VIII
The Basilisk Kingdom

Merick knew he was starting to get close to Beregost. This longer route had definitely proved much more life threatening than originally thought. The sun began to rise and he had finally gotten past the dusty pillar filled plain he was enduring. He was back to treading on grass, and what little pleasure Merick was capable of feeling, he felt it here.

Merick saw two travelers in the distance. Merick approached them, hoping they may have some useful wares. A chill went down Merick’s spine when he realised that these travelers were statues, people turned to stone, because only one creature could do this, one that Merick stood no chance against. A basilisk. A creature that could turn a man to stone in an instant in a gaze. Merick knew he would have to find another way round when a thought came to his head. He rummaged through his backpack to find a potion of invisibility he had taken off one of the Red Wizards the night before. He drank it and watch his hands disappear before him.

Merick ran as lightly and quickly as he could into the grassy area. First all he saw were statues of fallen warriors baring arms, or mages casting spells. Finally he saw basilisks… many basilisks. He made sure only to keep an eye on the road ahead and not to make eye contact with any of them. Merick’s pace quickened as he saw what seemed to be the last of the statues in the distance. Merick stopped to catch his breathe when he could no longer see any statues or basilisks behind him in the distance.

Merick ventured on and finally saw his hands and feet reappear in front of him. He let himself get distracted and realised that there was a party walking towards him. There were three of them, a man carrying an appealing long sword, an archer and a cleric holding a shield and mace. The swordsman spoke “Ho there stranger. Have ye seen any basilisk round these parts.” Merick replied rudely “That I have and you will make easy prey for them the moment they see you.” The party seemed to share a simultaneous feeling of anger and excitement as they drew their weapons. “We could always do with an easy warm up.” The archer said cockily. Merick would put an end to such arrogance.

Merick drew his blade and aimed his ring at the archer. The archer’s chest was greeted by a heavy bolt of flame that sent him falling on his back a good meter before he could fire an arrow. The other two charged at Merick. Merick, knowing no fear, charged straight into the action. Merick exchanged a few shots with the swordsman before having to roll out of the way of a swing by the cleric. Merick noticed that the swordsman was not wearing any armor on his limbs and would be the first easy take down. He ran at the two again, rapidly dodging and swinging to try and get some offense in between defending against the two men. The swordsman attempted a heavy, but reckless swing, but the dwarf ducked it and the cleric had to step back. Merick took the opportunity and swung at the swordsman’s unguarded leg. The sword struck right at the ankle and was strong enough to remove his foot from his leg. The swordsman dropped his sword and rolled on the ground screaming.

Merick charged straight at the cleric, who raised his shield. The cleric could not get a shot in and kept stepping back, blocking until he tripped over a large stone and landed on his back. Merick immediately ran his blade into the man’s exposed throat before being hit in the back of the thigh with an arrow. Merick screamed loudly as he turned to see the archer, badly injured kneeling with his bow and arrow. Merick thought quickly and took the clerics shield. He turned around to face the archer just in time to block a shot that would have hit him in the back. Merick ran at the archer and blocked an arrow before engaging the archer up close. The archer forced himself to his feet and drew his sword. Merick wound his sword right back and swung hard at the acher, who raised his sword with both hands to block the strike. Merick’s sword, made from poor iron, cracked in the middle and the length of the blade fell to the ground. Merick, knowing the man was injured jumped into him and pinned him to the ground. They both wrestled over the sword, but the less injured Merick used his strength to turn the blade into the archer and kill him.

Merick walked over to the one footed swordsman and picked up his sword. This was a finely made sword and would serve him well. Merick plunged it into the man before looting them and continuing his journey.

Merick was now limping, but could see in the distance, the city of Beregost…

[ 04-10-2007, 05:07 AM: Message edited by: Rockstar ]

CHAPTER 2
ACT I
The Town of Beregost

Merick trudged his way back to the main road and continued to Beregost. His injured leg was ailing him and slowing him but he had learnt much from the experiences he had already gone through. Slowly he felt as if he was proving himself to be the warrior that he always dreamed of. Even if it was only due to luck, Merick had managed to defeat a party of travelers and a clan of Red Wizards of Thay. Merick finally stepped foot into the city of Beregost.

The buildings here were rather tall but slightly warn down. The town was rather large but was definitely less than middle class. “Pathetic flocks of peasants.” Merick muttered to himself as he limped his way to a sign post, illustrating a map of the town. He headed towards the largest tavern in the town, Fieldpost’s Inn, to sell some wares and rest without conflict. He thought he would be safe there in the midst of a heavy crowd and would stand out less there. A good place to be to rest up and let his leg heal.

Merick entered the tavern and walked over to the bar. On the way to the counter he bumped shoulders with a short but stocky and well built male. Merick stopped where he stood and slowly turned around to find the man already facing him, awaiting an apology. Merick thought it would make sense to kill the man later, when he was not so weary so he spoke first, “I’m in a good mood laddy. Apologise now and I’ll let you walk out of here in one piece.” The man, clearly drunken laughed and replied “Now, now dwarf, I think I’m going to have ta show ya some manners.” Merick heard the man’s friend call across the room, “Yeah! You tell ‘em Marl!” Merick quickly raised his hand to catch a drunken punch from Marl. Marl was not a tall man and was not much taller than Merick’s 5 ½ feet. Merick responded with an uppercut that broke the man’s jaw and sent him tumbling backwards into some bystanders. Merick sold his wares at the table, got some potions and leaves to help his leg heal and paid for a room. Merick wanted nothing more than to slice the whole bar to pieces and help himself to their valuables and rest for free, but he knew he could not yet take on the whole world… yet. He went upstairs to his room and rested.

The potions were worth the gold that Merick paid for them as he woke up walking pretty much fine. He strapped his sword, bow and arrows to his back and marched down stairs, ready to set out to his next destination, Nashkel. As he walked back down to the ground floor, through the bar, Marl was waiting for him. The barfly was sitting laughing with his friends, with his now misshapen jaw, until he caught sight of Merick and snapped to his feet. He walked boldly up to Merick and brought his face up close to intimidate him. Merick head butted the man with his helmet and sent Marl to his knees, holding a bloody nose. Merick walked out of the Inn and headed to the town’s southern exit.

Merick was nearly out of the town when he heard somebody cry out in a light, but manly voice, “Ho there traveler!” A skinny man ran up to him. He carried a backpack and a harp and appeared to be a bard of sorts. Merick stared impatiently at the man and stroked his beard before saying in a deep voice, “Ye have one minute boy. And there had better be something in it for me…” The man nervously introduced himself as Garek and told Merick that he was representing his master, who was in need of protection from three mercenaries stalking her in the town. Merick began to walk away. “300 gold!” Garek yelled out. Merick turned around and told the bard, “lead the way.” Merick had his own plans.

Garek introduced Merick to a women in a purple cape who bored Merick with the details Garek had already given him. “I want my gold… now!” Demanded Merick. “You will get your gold when you have completed your task.” Snapped the women. All of a sudden three men baring short swords approached them. The leader bowed and exclaimed, “We have found the gems you have asked for my lady.” “That’s them!” exclaimed the women, “Attack them!” Merick grinned and tilted his head. “It looks like you aren’t too good at paying your mercenaries are you. And I… am no mercenary.” Merick gleamed evilly at her before turning his back and walking away. She drew a crossbow from out of her cape and fired at one of the three mercenaries. The arrow hit the leader clean in the chest and the other two smothered her down and stabbed her on the ground.

Merick was now a good fifteen meters away when he drew the other potion he had taken from the Red Wizard of Thay he had killed in the wild. Gorion had shown him these potions and he knew what to do with them. “I like the sound of those gems on top of my handsome payment.” Merick said grinning to himself. Merick hurled the potion at the distracted group and watched it explode into flames. The flames were magical and dissipated into the air within five seconds, but had still killed all three mercenaries, the mistress and Garek as well, who was only watching the events as a bystander. Merick chuckled as he took his 300 gold as promised and helped himself to the mercenaries gems before making his way south out of Beregost and a quick rate.

CHAPTER 2
ACT II
The Lighthouse, The Book and The Siren Queen

Merick followed a dusty, stony road that had led him straight from the tall buildings of Beregost. The sun was setting and Merick decided to simply take the main road south to Nashkel as the distance between Beregost and Nashkel was nowhere near as long as the distance he had to cover when traveling between the Friendly Arm and Beregost and the cover of night could defend him from any opposition.

Merick trudged down the straight and dusty road until he saw a junction in the road with a sign with arrows pointing out several landmarks. Merick examined it and his eyes widened when he saw one word, “lighthouse”. This was ‘the’ lighthouse he had read about when he was younger. There was said to be a cave nearby which concealed a tomb of great power. “That book will belong to me and me alone!” Merick spoke to himself. He headed directly west from where he was, toward the lighthouse.

Merick had to wade through a deep but empty forest only to find that he would have to travel through another forest, this one as empty as the last. Finally, and to his amazement, with no encounters he saw the top of the lighthouse in the distance above the forest tops. Merick pushed onward and saw a monster jogging towards him. Merick drew his blade only to a moment later discover that the monster was a lightly built women, unfittingly wearing chain mail and baring a sword. The women wore a look of desperation and plead, “Please help me. Only you can help me.” Merick did not look amused and grunted “I don’t do damsels in distress.” She gasped as he ran his sword through her stomach and snatched her purse of gold off her before she fell. Merick loved the freedom of the forest as bodies would not be found for days or even weeks later with no sign of the killer.

Merick was getting closer and closer to the lighthouse when all of a sudden he heard. Something similar sounding to a succubus! They must have already detected that there was somebody in their forest. Merick frantically searched his potion sack for any potion that would do something more than heal wounds. “Yes!” Merick thought to himself as he found his last invisibility potion. Merick drunk it down and watched his limbs disappear in front of him. He pressed through the woods and saw at least four Siren’s, beautiful, blue skinned women with the ability to charm their enemies under their control with a combination of seductive songs and lustful gazes. They could not see Merick and Merick kept his mind focused on something else as he made his way toward the lighthouse, so that the songs would not take his mind. Merick reached the lighthouse. Merick looked around to find a pile of small, loose boulders in front of a smallish opening. “This must be it.” Merick grinned.

Merick moved the boulders and made haste inside. Merick found a series of tunnels that all led to one big empty room with a lake. Merick wondered if he had been beaten here. Then a thought struck him. He put his hand inside the lake and felt around until he touched something. Merick pulled out a almost ancient looking book. The book must have been enchanted to not be effected by the water, but he did not want to open it until it was dry, just incase. Merick’s heart sank as he heard the sound of singing right outside the cave. The Sirens had noticed the moved boulders. Merick dropped the book in his backpack and bolted back the way he came. Merick charged out of the cave’s entrance and straight past two siren’s on both sides. Merick’s invisibility was wearing off and he was now easily identifiable. He ran as fast as he could, he could hear the voices of Siren’s as he passed. He saw two more in the corner of his eye as he kept running till he was clear of them all and could here no more singing. Merick stopped and leant against a tree to catch his breath. He then turned around and saw a Siren wearing a light blue, satern dress and more beautiful than any other siren. Merick’s drew an arrow with one hand but he found his other hand by his side, paralyzed and unable to reach for his bow.

His vision blurred around the Siren and her red locks blew in the wind as she invitingly said “Hello there young stranger. I am Sil, the Queen of the Siren in these parts. You look weary there.” She smiled sweetly “Let me take you in.” Merick had greater resistance to these spells than most as he was dwarf and was naturally stronger against magicks, but he happily began walking towards the women. Merick blinked and realised what was happening to him. He began to clench the arrow in his right hand. He was less than ten meters away from Sil but he could not do anything. Merick used all his mind and strength to raise the arrow in his hand. Merick screamed loudly as he quickly plunged the arrow into his own shoulder. The pain was enough for him to break the spells focus as he fell to his hands and knees.

Merick quickly scuttled to his feet, looking only in the distance and ignoring the singing behind him. An arrow soared by Merick’s head, missing him by only an inch but he managed to get into dense forest before the Siren Queen could fire another arrow. “Bitch!” Merick thought vengefully. “I will be back for her… and she will have nothing to sing about when I cut her tongue from her vile mouth!”

Merick made his way south-east through the forests to save time getting back to Nashkel. In just over a day’s journey of tangled vines, giant spiders and diseased gibberlings, Merick saw the lights of Nashkel across the night time sky. He finally enjoyed a peaceful walk with no further interruptions.

[ 04-08-2007, 11:32 PM: Message edited by: Rockstar ]

CHAPTER 2
ACT III
Nashkell, A Town With Troubles. Part I

Merick entered the town over a small bridge. Although it was nightiime, he could see that this town was much smaller, simpler and more primitive than beregost. There were more individual houses with straw roves as opposed to large buildings with individual rooms, like Beregost. “A simple town of pathetic fools and peasants.” Merick muttered to himself. This town only really served as a base for weapons and food for the nearby mine site and was a place for miners to go and share an ale. The town’s population, despite the huge mine nearby, was still very small as most miners at the actual mines but the town was renoun for having a well trained and organised soldier barracks. Merick’s wounded shoulder was pestering him and he was now hungry and in need of an ale.

Merick followed the signs and went to the only inn in Nashkel. On his way there an odd looking man in his mid twenties came up to Merick and introduced himself as Noober. Merick did not reply. Without being asked any questions, Noober started filling Merick in with how nobody likes him, his interests, life in general and what he thinks of the townsfolk. After five minutes of being followed, Merick could not take this any more. He asked Noober to follow him around the back of the bar, where nobody could see. Merick saw a dagger on Noober’s belt. Merick told Noober to take out his dagger then hold the blade towards his heart. “Now kill yourself.” Smiled Merick evilly. Noober began to cry and plead to Merick. After a minute of two or persuasion, Merick realised that Noober would not do it so he struck the handle of the dagger with his open palm and sent the blade straight into Noober’s heart. Merick walked around and into the bar laughing to himself, “It’s not my fault the dear boy killed himself because nobody liked him.”

Merick entered the bar. The moment he walked in a rather well built women’s eyes and mouth widened at first glace. Merick sat down at the bar, next to the roaring fire, and ordered a plate of chicken and some fine ale. The women came and sat next to him with a friendly hello. Merick said hello back in a sleazy dwarven accent. “Is your name Merick per chance.” Asked the women sweetly. Merick replied with a smile. “If it was, you weren’t planning on running that there dagger through me were ye?” The women’s eyes widened. In an almost instant series of actions, Merick swiped the dagger out of the women’s hand (that she had subtly kept out of Merick’s view) and run it upward into the underneath of her jaw. The women twitched a moment and Merick subtley took her purse off her before she slumped off her stool dead. Merick looked in the purse and saw a piece of paper. Another bounty from an anonymous sender! This time at 680 gold. “I’ve appreciated in value.” Merick laughed to himself before scrunching it up and tossing it in the fireplace.

A well built soldier in red and grey armor, a Nashkel Guard, was having a quiet ale on the other side of the room and quickly ran up to Merick. “What in the name of the gods have you done?!” Demanded the soldier. Merick was clearly already a wanted man and had to chose his enemies wisely for now. “I was attacked and defended myself against this foolish tart.” The soldier seemed to believe Merick. “Alright, but I’ll need you to come back to the barracks and fill out a report.” Merick rudely snapped. “I have not the time for petty paperwork!” The soldier threw his hands in the air in a stress. “Why this town! Why raise my family in this town? Our mines are going barren, there is a bounty on our captain’s head.” The word pricked Merick’s ears as he interrupted, “Bounty you say?” The soldier nodded his head biting his lip obviously confusing Merick’s greed with concern. “About three weeks ago Captain Brage, head of our barracks for many years, just completely changed. He was a holy man, loved his wife and child and protected the townsfolk until one day he just… snapped. There’s rumors that the stress from the iron shortage caused him to stress out... He killed some of his own townsfolk... Also heard a bizzare rumor that his wife may have been disloyal or somethin’ because he killed her! He murdered his own wife and child!” Merick looked at the ceiling pondering on what the man was saying and asked. “Where is your Captain now?” The soldier replied. “Well, he was seen fleeing the murder seen and heading into the forests west of here.” “anything else?” Merick enquired impatiently. “Uh, yes.. actually. I knew the Captain personally and … he could never do something like this? He changed when he got a new sword. It is large and ancient looking and-“ Merick stood up and walked upstairs to a room before the man could finish.

[ 04-09-2007, 11:12 PM: Message edited by: Rockstar ]

CHAPTER 2
ACT IV
Nashkell, A Town With Troubles. Part II

After some much needed sleep Merick walked down and put down half the gold he owed the in keeper and walked straight out. Merick walked down the main road and over a bridge when he ran into a man who was clearly another Red Wizard of Thay. “Greetings stranger. My name is Edwin, but you may call me, Sir.” Merick did not look impressed as the wizard continued “I would require you muscle on a task that need-“ Merick butted in. “Save me your words wizard. I have already killed four of your kind on my way here.” Edwin’s eyes lit up and foolishly lost his patients to a warrior within a sword’s reach. He began to cast, only to be slashed diagonally up his body before being kicked in the chest and tumbling over the railing into the lake. It was early in the morning and nobody saw, and even if they did, it was another self defense.

Merick continued down the street looking for the bounty collector to see whether this bounty was worth his time or not. Merick stopped when he saw a large temple on his left. This building was the only modern looking building in the town, built of limestone instead of straw and wood. Merick walked in and spoke to the priest about the tomb he had found in the lighthouse. The priest examined it. “I had read much about this book, but never had I thought that I would see it. There is a spell in this book which when cast can allow one’s wounds to regenerate overnight!” Merick stroked his beard intrigued and replied “So the legends were true… Can you cast it on me.” The priest nodded excitedly “Yes, sir. With your dwarven fortitude you should be nearly infallible! Remember the spell can only be cast once ever!” Merick looked at him impatiently “Just cast it…”
The priest cast the spell on Merick which surrounded him in a cloud of blue and white energy which absorbed into his skin. Merick did not feel any different but maybe the effects would show later. Merick paid for identifying the book, left the book on the table and walked out.

Merick walked down the street to find a fat man standing next to a wall with white posters of bounties for collection. Merick approached the man, who smiled with delight the moment he saw Merick. The man spoke, “Ah, you must be Greywolf. You must be here to collect your bounty…. Have you taken care of Prism?” Merick replied “In due time, may I please have my bounty.” The stupid collector gave Merick 200 gold just as another man joined the two. The stranger carried a spear and wore light chain mail and introduced himself to Merick as the Mayor of Nashkel. “Finally” The Mayor said with delight. “A warrior capable of solving the riddle of our decaying mines. What was your name sir dwarf?” Merick replied in a low tone “Merick.” The collector’s face screwed up in disgust but he held his silence in the presence of the Mayor. The Mayor continued. “We are the only mine in the southern half of the Sword Coast and have enjoyed unrivaled income from the mines. Well that was until the mines all of a sudden started producing dirty weak iron. We can’t use even half of what we harvest out of it, and what we do use is still of very poor quality. It’s funny that not long after we started experiencing problems with our mines that the northern mine of Cloakwood began having the exact same problems. There is obviously another force at work here but miners have gone missing and nobody dares go down there and” Merick had head enough and asked the simple question “What is my reward?” The Mayor replied sternly “Your reward will be a small fortune by anybody’s standards.” Merick turned and walked away and yelled out. “Hold on to ye gold… I will be back for it.

Merick walked and pondered. “Two rewards in the same town… Funny a how troubled town of weaklings can have it’s uses when they are willing to pay a substantial amount to have their problems solved.” Merick wanted nothing more than to slay the town and take it’s gold, but he still had to keep his reputation low for now and would play by the book. Captain Brage seemed like a good place to start. The Captain had been seen fleeing to the west, probably to seek the cover of the forest. The sword he had found was clearly cursed some how and the man probably was not responsible for his actions, but to Merick money was money. Merick headed west out of the town after Captain Brage.

[ 04-09-2007, 11:39 PM: Message edited by: Rockstar ]

CHAPTER 2
ACT V
Captain Brage

Merick muttered to himself in impatience at having to head west out of the town, back the way he came, but this time he would journey exactly west. He pushed through the forest for over a day, searching for his bounty. He was no ranger and was really relying on a bit of luck to track his enemy. Merick finally had some luck when he saw a boot print in the ground that nobody could miss. He knew that not many would venture into these woods as there was basically nothing to hunt in here. It had to be the captain.

Merick came to a clearing where a main road ran. This was a road that travelers took to get to and from the Sword Coast from the south. Merick looked around when he saw three overturned caravans thrown into the bushes on the side. Merick investigated.

Arrows were scattered around the road. There had been some resistance by the caravans. These were caravans from distant towns carrying in much needed iron supplies, but the iron was gone, the drivers killed and the wagons thrown into the forest. Merick found something very interesting. It seemed that the wagons had managed to take down one of their attackers. In the bushes was also a body of a bandit! “So the bandits are the ones behind the caravan raids… but to stop iron caravans from the north and south would require a lot more organisation and numbers than what bandits would usually have.” Merick thought to himself. He headed over the road and deeper into the forest.

It was now the middle of the night and Merick was starting to get weary, but he knew that his target would probably be resting now, so it was a good chance to strike. Out of the shadows a man in a dark cloak came out with a look of terror on his face. Merick drew his bow and arrow but let the man speak first. “Good sir. Do not head this way. I have seen him. The General Brage. He is possessed by some evil and I cannot let you pass… I will stop you if I have to.” Merick smirked “No you wont.” An arrow went right through the stranger’s heart. Merick stepped carefully until he came to a clearing. There he saw a man sitting next to a fire, holding large sword in blue robes surrounded by thick chain mail.

General Brage took his sword and stood about fifteen meters away from Merick. His eyes were white. He uttered in a deep voice. “I am the head of the dead and all the only thing that stands when one has fallen… what am I?” Merick thought hard for a moment, trying not to faulter under pressure. “A tombstone!” Merick said. The man fell to his hands and knees breathing heavily and the sword left his hands and hit the ground with a hard thud. Brage, still on his hands and knees looked up at Merick and smiled. “Thank you hero. You have saved others and myself from the evil holding me." Brage began to cry “By the gods what have I done? My poor wife and child.” Merick eyed the kneeling Brage from a distance and spoke coldly “Regardless of whether or not I have saved you there is still a bounty on ye head.” Merick drew his bow and aimed it at Brage’s head. Brage’s eyes lit up with tears of rage. “You are nothing more than a selfish bounty hunter!” He grabbed the sword off the ground and charged at Merick. Brage’s eyes went white as the curse was renewed.

Merick was quick to act and fired three arrows into Brage’s in the chest, but each shot only staggered him and he kept charging at Merick as if unwounded. The sword obviously sent the holder into a berserk rage and was deadly in the hands of a captaining soldier. Merick quickly dropped his bow and drew his sword as Brage came in with a flurry of slow, but heavy shots. Merick was on the back foot, able to block Brage’s hard blows but unable to get any offense of his own in. Merick took a glimpse behind him and saw that he was about to walk backward right into the campfire. The Captain came in with a hard overhead shot, which Merick barely managed to take the force of. The blades were locked and the berserk captain managed to press Merick down onto one knee. Merick’s arms were at full length trying to push Brage’s blade away, which was slowly but surely getting closer to Merick’s head. Merick saw the fire only a meter behind him and knew it was do or die now. Merick quickly rolled to the side and behind Brage and slashed both his legs right behind the knees. Brage’s leg tendons were cut and he had no choice but to fall on his hands and knees. Merick scrambled to his feet and quickly shoved the Captain in the backside with his boot and sent him straight into the campfire. The Captain crawled along the ground out of the fire, still burning, unable to move his legs below the knees. He was still holding onto his sword, but only to be pressed hard to the ground by Merick’s boot. The arrows in Brage's chest sunk right in but was still burning so Merick had to be quick. Merick held his blade upside down with both hands and ran it rapidly in and out of the Captain’s back rapidly half a dozen times. Stuck flat on his face, Brage tried an blind, uncoordinated swing at Merick but Merick blocked it and stood on his right hand so he could not move his sword. Merick raised his blade in both hands and brought it down on the Captain’s neck.

Merick fell on his back exhausted and had to rest for a few moments before collecting the Captain’s head and heading back to Nashkel. Merick enjoyed no interferences on his walk through the forest and pondered on his first near death experience before reentering Nashkel.

[ 04-10-2007, 04:59 AM: Message edited by: Rockstar ]

CHAPTER 2
ACT VI
Journey To The Nashkel Mines

It was night time when Merick set foot back in Nashkel. Whether or not it was the effects of the tomb that had been cast upon him, he did not feel weary as he should after a long fought battle and felt he had a whole day of energy still to use. Regardless he went to the Tavern to hire a room and sleep until the sun rose.

That night Merick did not sleep well. He had a dream unlike any other he had ever experienced. It was almost as if a supernatural presense had drilled into his skull and planted the dream in there. He found himself back in Candlekeep and relived the events as Gorion walked with him out of Candlekeep and to the forest. It was almost as if a demonic play as it played out right until Gorion's dark, armored murderer ran his sword right through his foster father's back. When Gorion fell down dead, Merikc saw the vision again. Then again and again and again, until Merick's eyes became used to the sight of it. The only thought that emerged in Merick's head was that soon he would have the power of Gorion's slayer, and as foolish as Gorion was, Merick would avenge his death. Merick awoke in his own sweat, but somehow he felt stronger than before. As if something inside of him was slowly waking.

Merick strapped on his armor and sought out the fat bounty collector immediately to find him just where he was before, standing in front of a building with ‘wanted’ posters, behind a simple wooden table. Merick dropped the bloodied, burnt head on the collector’s table without saying a word. The bounty collector squirmed backward and pressed himself against the wall, his eyes open in horror, staring at the severed head. He quickly regained his composure and placed the head in the basket. “You… you startled me.” explained the collector “I’ve seen many a severed head but … not the one of our beloved Captain Brage.” Merick eyed him impatiently “Where’s my bounty?!” The collector looked at Merick angrilly and passed him a purse. “There’s only 150 gold in this purse!” The collector showed no intimidation “That is the payment for your dishonesty earlier… Merick.” The fat collector went on, “I was absent the day the real Greywolf came and told a relief collector that he would return later to collect that bounty. Greywolf has continued to business with us none-the-less and headed to the mines to collect some stolen gems.” Merick reached for his blade but contained his rage remembering there was still a bounty to be collected for the mines, one that the collector probably would not have on him. Instead Merick grabbed the collector by his shirt and held him close. “Don’t you ever… ever cross me again! … and hold on to your bounties because they belong to me!” The collector was shaking as Merick walked away, walking out the eastern exit of the small town, towards the neighboring mine site. “This town will fall first…” Merick muttered to himself under his breath.

The walk to the mine was only a couple of hours with nothing but gravel and the occasional tree. Merick stopped when he saw a giant recess in the ground hundreds of meters wide. This was the mining pit. There were carts on rails leading from the primary mine entrance to a processing area where the iron was bagged up and put into caravans to be shipped off. However, the pit looked unusually bare with not even half the workers on the outside as he would have expected. Merick went to find a scaffolding to climb town into the pit with when something caught his eye. Over on the opposite edge of the pit, his dwarven eyes saw a man dressed in blue. Merick bolted over to the other side of the outside pit to meet the man.

The man in blue stood in front of a rock face chiseling away at the rock face, forming what appeared to be the face of a young women. Sitting on the ground next to the man were some carving tools and some very expensive looking gems. Merick realised this must have been Greywolf’s current bounty. The man in blue turned around when he heard Merick approaching behind him. The man was visibly stressed and spoke in a tired, defeated tone “I suppose Greywolf has sent you, hasn’t he? I knew it was only a matter of time. All I wanted was to finish my masterpiece…” Merick looked at the jewels on the ground and knew that they would sell for far more than what the bounty collector would pay for them and without a word advanced towards the man and his gems. Out of nowhere, behind the rock face, appeared wearing bronzed leather armor that covered his torso and upper thighs. The man was only of average height and build but was heavily ripped and Merick could already tell this man was a professional killer. He was Greywolf.

[ 04-11-2007, 06:47 AM: Message edited by: Rockstar ]

CHAPTER 2
ACT VII
Greywolf

Greywolf looked at the man in blue and spoke with a cheeky grin “Prism, I thought I would never find you.” Greywolf turned and looked at Merick. “And you. You wouldn’t be the foolish dwarf who stole my bounty are you?” Merick knew he was lucky to have won his last fight and that this opponent would be as difficult, but none the less, he refused to show any weakness and replied, “Aye, that was me, and I’ll be taking this one off you as well.” Greywolf’s eyes burned with hatred as he drew a single long sword from behind his back. The sword looked amazing. The hilt was made of gold and the blade glowed a light blue, covered in a fine layer of frost. Merick drew his blade as the two moved in towards each other.

The two warriors ran in and clashed blades. Greywolf stood a foot and a half taller than Merick, but it seemed to prove little advantage. Sparks flew as the swordsman spun and clashed their blades in a series of flurries and aggressive blocks. Merick managed to gain the offensive advantage and got Greywolf on the back foot, with some aggressive head level strikes, but the advantage did not last long. Greywolf executed a quick sweep at Merick’s feet which caused Merick to jump back and raise his guard in time to get pushed back by a series of hard swings. Merick managed to get some decent swings in but found he was gradually getting pushed backward towards the rock face. Merick saw the rock face was within arms reach and knew that he was done for if he was cornered. He tried a hard overhead shot at Greywolf, but the mercenary saw it coming and kicked Merick hard in the chest against the wall. Greywolf brought his blade back by his side and thrusted it at Merick’s chest. Luckily, Merick predicted the follow through and pivoted to the side to see the blade sink deep into the rock. Greywolf leaned back to pull his blade out of the rock but fell backward as Merick drove his sword right through Greywolf’s thigh. Greywolf rolled on his back screaming in agony.

Merick heaved as he pulled the Greywolf’s icey sword out of the stone and examined it closely. Merick stood over Greywolf, who was about to remove the sword from his leg until he saw Merick standing over him. Merick taunted “Thank you very much for your blade and ye bounty” before driving the sword downward into Greywolf’s skull. Prism stood trembling against his rock sculpture, too frightened to say a word as Merick approached him and slashed him across the stomach and took his gems. Merick left Prism too fall to the ground, holding his wound, which was frosen around the outside edges of the cut, as a pool of blood built around him.

Merick could avoid any allegations against him as Prism had been killed with Greywolf’s blade and Greywolf could have attacked Merick first. Merick smiled at his ability to cover his own tracks as he made his way to the entrance of the Nashkel Mines.

[ 04-11-2007, 06:05 AM: Message edited by: Rockstar ]

CHAPTER 2
ACT IX
The Secret Of The Mines

Merick entered the enclave and straight away saw two entrances, but one of them was vailed with a purple curtain. Merick’s foot stung as his wound was collecting the black dust on the floor and was getting more and more infected every step. He held his bow and arrow together in front of him, ready to take down any more kobolds that he may encounter. Merick followed the short hallway until he reached a brightly lit room. The rocky walls were lined with candles and kobolds had engraved markings all over the wooden pillars that supported the mineshaft. Beside a couple of large chests was a throne with a half-orc sitting in it, and in front of him, four kobolds bowing before him.

Merick wasted no time and shot the first two kobolds in the back before they knew what hit them. The other two drew bows and fired at Merick but Merick rolled to the side and fired another arrow to kill another kobold. The final kobold froze in terror and watched Merick fire an arrow into its skull. Merick lowered his bow by his side and eyed the half-orc, who had not moved from his throne while watched his kobold companions slaughtered. Half-orcs always stood taller than a normal man and always carried a stronger, more solid build but generally bared the lower intellect of their orc kin. This half-orc seemed slightly shorter than the average half-orc but was probably smarter than the later, running a mine sabotaging operation. He seemed to be a cleric of sorts and wore thin metal armor covering most of his limbs and his tusk filled jaw was screwed up in fury at the sight of his intruder.

The half-orc stood up, unarmed and spoke in a deep, but unusually fluent half-orc accent. “I am Mulahey. And no doubt you were sent by Tarzok.” Merick wondered what information he could draw from this man and thought of his reply carefully before saying. “Yes. Now reveal your treachery to me and perhaps I will be merciful…” Mulahey yelled in rage. “Not a single measure of iron leaves these mines unspoiled and still he sent you!” The half-orc snarled. “I have no intentions to betray Tarzok! Bah, I even have proof! And you… you will regret ever coming here!” Merick heard the stretching of a bowstring behind him and dropped flat to the floor.

Merick rolled to his feet and drew his bow and arrow and shot down a kobold. He had only hit one of at least ten kobolds that were waiting at the entrance of the room. Merick fired at another kobold, but got hit himself in the shoulder. Merick grunted as he dropped his bow, ripped the arrow out of him and charged at the group with his sword. Merick weaved to the side to avoid the next bombardment of arrows but was not quick enough as two arrows hit him, one in his upper thigh and the other in the right hand side of his gut. Merick literally charged into the group of kobolds and bowled most of them over as they were pressed together as a group near the door frame. Merick rolled to his feet and sliced down the last two standing kobolds that faced him. He then did a couple of spinning flurries and carved up the most of the kobolds on the ground, when all of a sudden Merick saw something big in the corner of his eye and hit the deck!

A spiked ball on the end of a flail sailed just over Merick’s head and flew into a rising kobold. The kobold’s head and chest almost exploded on impact as blood splattered everywhere. Merick turned to see Mulahey standing over him, holding a flail in one hand and a small shield in the other. There was an arrow stuck in Mulahey’s leg where a kobold had missed and hit him. Mulahey swung his flail back and brought it down at Merick. Merick rolled to the side, and still on his back, stabbed his sword at Mulahey’s gut but Mulahey blocked it with his shield. Mulahey looked at kobold that was laying next to Merick that lay dying on the ground from a sword wound. He pointed on it and cast a quick spell. A blue trail of sparks left the half-orc’s hand and surrounded the kobold’s cut before sealing it up. In the short time that Mulahey had taken to do this, Merick had gotten to his feet and ran his blade through the kobold, which was reaching for its own. Mulahey’s diversion had worked as when Merick turned to face his opponent, the flail crushed down on his left bicep. Merick dropped to his knees and his sword fell at his feet. His left arm was shattered and hung lifelessly by his side. Merick’s vision doubled as he looked up, defeated, at Mulahey. Mulahey smiled and boasted “Give Tarzok my regards when he falls by me too.” The half-orc swung his flail in the air twice before bringing it down. As the spiked ball came down on his head, Merick's eyes burst to life. He sprung only a couple of feet to the left, enough to avoid the attack, and collected his blade of the ground. Mulahey was completely caught by surprise as Merick lunged to his feet and extended his new icy blade upward into the brain of his opponent. Merick pulled his blade from his opponent and fell on his back nursing his broken arm. Mulahey dropped to the floor in a dead heap.

Merick was in agony and didn’t know whether he would survive the trip out of the mines and back to Nashkel. Either way, he needed to search the enclave. He had saved the mines for Nashkel but that was never of interest to him. He wanted answers so he searched the large chests in the room. He stuffed all of the envelops into a sash on his side to sort through later. Now he needed another way out of here. He could not fight off any more kobolds with these injuries and looked around the lair thinking to himself, “He had to have another entrance to smuggle in those green vials and the kobolds.” When looking around he recognised a giant banner hanging over Mulahey’s throne. It was the symbol of a god, clearly one that the kobolds followed. Mulahey must have established himself as a prophet so that the kobolds would do his bidding. Merick tore off a corner of the banner and made a sling for his left arm.

All of a sudden something caught Merick’s eye. There were cracks behind one of the large chests. Merick shoved the chest out of the way and saw a rocky passage. Merick followed the rocky passage in absolute agony, but hope came when he saw sunlight peering down at him. Merick reached the surface tired, dirty and in agony, but found it pleasant to breathe clean air again once.

[ 04-13-2007, 04:33 AM: Message edited by: Rockstar ]

CHAPTER 3
ACT I
Farewell To Nashkel

Merick’s journey back to Nashkel was a long and painful one. He’d received a broken arm and punctures his foot, thigh, shoulder and lower stomach. Luckily for him, kobolds aren’t strong and their arrows didn’t penetrate too deeply past his armor. However, as agonizing as Merick’s trip back was, he was amazed at how well we as able to sustain a ready form when a weaker warrior would not have even made it back to Nashkel. Although the fortitude spell that was cast on him earlier would have definitely aided this, Merick felt as if something else was awakening inside him. Something seemed to grow with every powerful enemy that fell to him.

When Merick reached the town, he headed straight for the temple for some badly needed healing. The priest healed Merick for nearly a half hour for free and had him as good as new when Merick told him he had cleared the mines. The sun was down and the town was emptying so Merick headed straight for the Inn for a quick dinner and some much needed sleep. In his room, before he rested, Merick took out the letters he had taken from Mulahey’s lair to try and make sense of what was happening.

Most of the letters were between Mulahey and his superior, Tarzok, the one that Mulahey presumed that Merick was sent by to kill him. It seemed that both of them had their parts to play in starving the Sword Coast of iron. Tarzok was in league with the bandits, raiding any caravans importing iron into the area, whist Mulahey’s job was to make sure that all the iron produced by Nashkel was spoiled and near unusable. It seemed that Tarzok became displeased with Mulahey’s inability to keep his operation secretive when the Mulahey could not contain his kobold minions from killing the miners and warned Mulahey that he would be replaced if he could not do his job properly. “So the plot thickens…” Merick thought to himself. Merick read on and found that Tarzok had not disclosed his position to Mulahey, but in the most recent letter, did mentioned that he had appointed a new messenger, Tranzig, that was currently residing in Beregost. Merick needed to wrap his business up in Nashkel quickly to try and catch this fellow named Tranzig.

Merick awoke to a sunny morning and started walking towards the fat bounty collector when he crossed paths with a man wearing a dark cloak. The man in the cloak approached Merick and peering through his cloak, asked the dwarf. “Hello sir dwarf. Is your name Merick?” Merick smirked. “Who’s asking? You or Tarzok?” Merick saw the man’s eyes widen under his hood and grabbed the man’s right hand and snatched an axe he was holding. The man panicked and ran away in fear. Merick hurled the axe at the stranger’s back. To his amazement, the axe span perfectly through the air and planted itself perfectly in the cloaked man’s spine. The Nashkel Guards nearby ran up to them in time to see Merick take the man’s purse and for his own curiosity, fastened the throwing axe to his belt. Merick stared at the guards and boasted, “I saved your mines. I’ll take what I like.” A group of five soldiers surrounded the man and began to clean up the mess. Merick saw the bounty collector, and next to him, the Mayor, eagerly awaiting Merick’s findings.

Merick, in an unfathomable act of generosity, explained how the mines were being poisoned and that he had killed the master of the mines. The bounty collector unconvinced said “And what proof do you have?” Merick dropped the green vials on the table as well as the corner of the holy symbol that he had ripped off the wall of Mulahey’s chamber and used as a sling. “He got a kobolds to poison the steel with these and got them to follow him by setting himself up as a kobold profit, which the stupid creatures believed… Now where’s my reward!?” The Mayor raised his spear and called out to all nearby townsfolk, “My people! The Nashkel Mines have been saved thanks to this brave dwarf.” Merick stared at the mayor and slowly extended the upward palm of his hand, demanding payment. The Mayor smiled and gave Merick a heavy purse of gold and said “And for you Merick, 900 gold pieces!” Merick did not look impressed, looked down at the purse then up at Mayor before replying, “I want double this!” The Mayor was shocked. “I cannot give you any more than that. I’m sorry.” He said apologetically. Merick knew that he could not let them get away with this. Although it would be a bold move that he might regret, now was the time to make a stand. All the nearby guards were cleaning up the bounty hunter that had just been killed. Merick drew his blue bladed sword and cried out. “People! Gather round and watch your leader and all you stand for fall before you!” The Mayor could not believe what was happening and fumbled his spear into a ready position. The Mayor was past middle-age, too old to stand a chance against Merick. The Mayor knew this and took initiative to thrust his worn-out, old spear at Merick. Merck blocked the spear to the side, grabbed the spear near the tip, cut the top foot from the length of the spear and held it in his left hand. The Mayor, now infuriated, swung at Merick with what was left of his spear at Merick’s head. Merick blocked the attack with his sword and in the same motion ran the spear into the Mayor’s chest. The Mayor breathed heavily as a line of blood trickled from his mouth. Merick held is head close to the Mayor’s and whispered. “Your town will burn first...” The Mayor hatefully spat blood on Merick’s face. Merick replied by swinging heavily at the Mayor’s neck and watching his head tumble from his shoulders. Merick turned to face a circle of innocents that had watched their town leader fall and called out to them. “I gave you all a chance after you crossed me once. You will all taste death in time.” Merick saw a battalion of Nashkel Soldier charging at him. Merick quickly ran between the gaps between the buildings and narrowly managed to lose the guards before making his way into the forest. Merick hid behind a tree to catch his breath and thought to himself. “I’ll be back for the rest when I can afford for such actions to bring attention to me. Now it’s time to drop in on Mulahey and Tarzok’s little errand boy…”

[ 04-12-2007, 11:20 PM: Message edited by: Rockstar ]

CHAPTER 3
ACT II
The Hobbit Town Of Gullykin

Merick headed north to make his way back to the city of Beregost. Merick thought it would be wiser to go through the forests and stay clear of the main roads in order to get to Beregost unnoticed. When Merick last journeyed down from Beregost to Nashkel, he explored the lighthouse and the eastern forests. This time Merick decided to explore the forests west of the main road.

Merick pressed through yet another forest with little habitance. Merick did nothing but walk, besides kill and eat a fox, for a day and half. He began to ponder of how it was someone stupid and foolish to have killed the figurehead of a major town in The Sword Coast as now he would be wanted by the authorities as well as his unknown enemies, but he justified it in his own mind as he had to make a fearful stand somewhere. Hopefully Merick would have no reason to head back that way.

It was late afternoon when Merick saw a miniature town filled with tents and farms, and walking around inside, hobbits. Merick ventured in to see if there was anything of use that he could pillage from these small people. Merick arrogantly strutted straight through the town as if he owned it, but he was not impressed as these hobbits were primitive and only seemed to be running farms, raising animals and crops for themselves. Merick was just about to walk out of the town when what appeared to be the leader of the town came up to him. This hobbit wore lightly plated armor and carried a short sword and small shield on his back. He spoke at Merick, “Hello there stranger. You look like a warrior of some skill. We have a problem that you might be able to help us with.” Merick needed to get to Beregost to catch the messenger and was not interested in helping anybody regardless. Merick eyed the hobbit up and down for a moment.

Merick had already tasted what it was like to strike fear into the hearts of innocents. He could not help himself. “Draw your weapons.” Merick demanded with his eyes eagerly open. The Halfling looked stunned for a moment before drawing his short sword and shield. These people were farmers, not combatants and the battle reflected this. The hobbit people looked in horror at what was happening. Merick drew his blade and went straight into an offensive flurry of spins and slices. The hobbit leader was immediately put on the back foot and could only use his sword and shield to block the shots. Merick swung heavily to the right to knock the hobbit’s shield to the side before a lightning quick slice diagonally down the hobbit’s chest. The hobbit fell to the ground dying. Merick grinned in victory and aimed his ring at a straw stable. Merick sent a jet of fire at the stable that set it ablaze. Merick walked out of the town as if he had never been in it as the hobbits frantically gathered bails of water to put the fire out. Merick knew he didn’t have the time to hunt down and kill them all, but it was spreading the fear that he was interested in. At least for now…

CHAPTER 3
ACT III
The Sword Coast’s Greatest Swordsman

Merick was three quarters the way to Beregost and was now enjoying the peaceful serenity of a quiet forest enhabited by nothing but birds and squirrels. Merick had been so fixated on getting to Beregost that he had not rested since he left Nashkel. He found a well concealed tree to rest against and fell asleep.

Merick awoke to the dawning of the sun after hearing soft footsteps. Merick scrambled to his feet when he saw a tall warrior carrying a long sword approaching him, only meters away. Merick drew his blade and regained his composure.

The man was tall with blond hair and a large jutting jaw. His torso was covered in thick leather armor and he had noticeably heavy, perfectly crafted, black gauntlets on his hands that covered his hands up to his mid forearms. The man spoke. “I am friend of the hobbits of Gullykin and I came to visit them last night to find their village ablaze and one of my friends dead. I am here to serve justice to you.” Merick laughed at the notion. “So you’ve come here to serve ‘justice’ have you?” The man kept a serious look, “I am the greatest swordsman in the Sword Coast. I reside at the Firewine Ruins and I have never seen defeat in a sword dual.” The man made Merick’s face lit up in anger as the swordsman continued. “And I will do this farum a favour by removing this phycopathic dwarf.” Merick both men drew steel. The man had an impressed look on his face when he saw Merick’s sword as he commented “That’s a nice sword you have there… finally it will get a deserving master.”

Both men charged into close quarters. Both men wielded their blades with one hand and Merick was having to aim much higher against the tall man. Sparks flew rapidly as the swords danced in a spectacular dance display of speed and technical skill. Merick’s sword abilities had advanced thoroughly since he had left Candlekeep and was holding his ground, but his opponent seemed to have such speed and accuracy in his shots that Merick did not know how long he could hold a steady position for. Neither man was backing away as they held their ground when out of the blue, the swordsman tricked Merick, who misjudged a block and saw the swordsman’s blade enter just below his left collarbone. The swordsman slid his blade all the way through, angled slightly down. Merick arched his body forward in pain but at the same time swung his blade hard at the swordsman’s extended arm. The swordsman, thinking Merick was done for, in a panic, withdrew his blade as fast as he could, but Merick’s blade was already there. Merick’s sword swept right through the swordsman’s forearm, just below the elbow, in a separation of streaming blood.

The swordsman stumbled a few steps in hysteria before collapsing to his knees holding his arm at the elbow, watching blood drip from the wound, which was half crusted with frost. Merick grunted as he forced himself to stand before the swordsman, with the blade still run through him and gloated, "Never underestimate a dwarf!" The swordsman looked up at Merick and said in a low tone. “Finish me warrior…” Merick scrunched up his face with hate and replied, “With pleasure.” before beheading the swordsman.

Merick cried out in agony as he slid the blade out of him, length by length. He spilt some healing potion on both the front and the back of the wound to stop it from getting worse and then examined the gauntlet on the severed hand that lay on the ground. Merick took both the gauntlets and put them on. He realised he had found one of the ‘greatest swordsman’s’ secrets. When he put them on his hands moved faster and his when he swung his sword, the blade went almost exactly where he had wanted it to go. “Seems there is a good return in killing hobbits.” Merick laughed to himself as he made his way through the forest. After walking another day, Merick pressed through the last few clusters of trees and could see Beregost.

[ 04-14-2007, 09:57 PM: Message edited by: Rockstar ]

CHAPTER 3
ACT IV
The Red Wizard Revealed

Merick walked through Beregost surprisingly only experiencing moderate irritation from the stab wound he had sustained in his last dual. Merick headed for the most likely Inn that Tarzok’s messenger, Tranzig, would be staying in, Fieldpost’s Inn. This was the Inn where he had broken the jaw of that cocky bar fly so Merick hoped he wouldn’t be waylaid in his time here. His mission was a simple one. He was to find the messenger who commuted between Mulahey in Nashkel and Tarzok, and find some clue as to who this Tarzok was and where he could be found.

Merick was nearly at the Inn when a small boy approached him. “Sir. Um, excuse me. Are you Merick the dwarf?” Merick looked around and saw that this was not a trap before replying, “Who wants to know?” The boy spoke up, “An Officer Vai wants to talk to you. She’s from the Flaming Fist but she said you need not be afraid, sir. She said she is willing to ignore your charges for now in exchange for some work.” Merick's public execution of the Mayor of Nashkel had gotten himself entwined with the Flaming Fist. The Flaming Fist were based in the great city of Baldur’s Gate and were the most well armed and elite law enforcers along The Sword Coast and stood above all other law enforcement that existed. Regardless, Merick worked for nobody, especially not law enforcers, and he told the child, “You will tell the Flaming Fist Officer Vai that you have not seen me this day… wont you?” Merick stroked the handle of his sword. The boy started to shake. “Yes. Yes sir. I wont – wont tell her a thing.” The boy cautiously stepped away before running down the street. Merick heard a voice behind him that somehow sounded familiar, “You should not be so harsh towards children.”

Merick turned around to see the red wizard that he had seen outside the front of the Friendly Arm Inn. His heavy white beard and long red robes blew in the wind. The last time he only spoke in riddles to Merick when Merick was not a mindset to listen. Merick sensed that there was something of significance about this wizard and approached him to speak to him. The wizard spoke first. “I am Elminster, and I knew your father, Gorion.” His words did not spark the desired reaction in Merick as he heard the reply “Tell me what you have come to say, no more.” Elminster’s friendly glow turned to one of impatience from Merick’s rudeness as he explained, “Merick, your hatred and lust for power can change. You have predatory instincts inside of you, stronger than any other, but they can be over turned. You must listen to –“ Merick yelled at the wizard. “I will do whatever I like and claim whatever power that belongs to me! You cannot tell me how to live my life just because you knew my father.” Merick stormed off away from the sage and entered Fieldpost’s Inn. Elminster called out to Merick, “Follow the clues and the answers shall present themselves!”

The second Merick walked in, Marl, the bar brawler who’s jaw Merick broke, stood up and started to advance towards Merick. Merick was not in the mood after his conversation with Elminster, and drew the throwing axe from his belt and hurled it at Marl. Merick was surprised again as the axe sailed perfectly through the air and planted itself in Marl’s face. People in the tables nearby screamed and scurried away from Marl, who hit the floor hard, dead. Merick walked to the bar tender and asked. “Tranzig. A man named Tranzig.” The bar tender said wide eyed, “S-second floor, first door on the right…” He looked at the body on the floor. Merick smiled in jest. “I don’t think he’ll cause you no more trouble.” Merick walked up to the corpse, removed his axe and then cleaned his boots on it before making his way upstairs. Merick lifted up his armor to check on his stab wound. To his amazement, the stab wound had healed up and now seemed to be a mere flesh wound on both sides. Merick walked up the stairs, saw the first door on the right and kicked it in.

[ 04-14-2007, 10:06 PM: Message edited by: Rockstar ]

CHAPTER 3
ACT V
Tarzok’s Messenger

Merick was still holding his throwing axe in his hand as the door flew open. He walked inside to find when he saw a scruffy man with knotted hair, wearing tattered green robes frantically packing his things into a backpack. The man turned around yelled at his intruder. “Get out! You can have this room in a minute.” Merick replied bitterly. “Keep the room. I want answers, Tranzig.” The man turned out to be a mage with some skill. He began to cast a blue ball of energy between his hands. Merick threw his axe at the mage, but Tranzig used his ball of energy to raise a small, blue, circular field between his hands that blocked the attack. Merick drew his sword and charged. Tranzig cast a red globe of energy then concentrated it at Merick as a thin jet of fire, similar to the effect of Merick’s ring. Merick tried to stop the fire with his sword but the sword flew from his hand and the fire scorched his right arm. Tranzig went to cast another red ball of energy but Merick was quick enough to run up to him and punch him hard in the face. Tranzig’s red ball of energy flew into the air and dissipated into sparks and dust as he fell back into the wall. The mage’s nose and mouth were pouring out blood and before he could regain his stance. Merick slammed him hard against the wall. The man grunted from the impact. Merick saw a dagger on the mage’s hip. Merick held the slouching man’s throat against the wall with his left forearm and snatched the dagger with his right hand and twisted it into Tranzig’s thigh. Tranzig screamed loudly. Merick’s right hand and forearm were saved from the fire by his gauntlet, but his upper arm was bloodied and charred, just strong enough to torture a man.

Tranzig now had sweat beads running down his bloodied face as he pled, “Ok. No more. Please. I’ll talk, I promise.” Merick eyed his victim expectantly before Tranzig started speaking. “This – this was my first job. I don’t know much. All I know is I was meant to deliver this letter to somebody called Mulahey in the Nashkel Mines.” Merick was not satisfied and asked a rhetorical question to see how honest this man was being. “Who do you work for?” Merick yelled in his face. Tranzig was quick to say, “Tarzok. His name is Tarzok. I don’t know any thing else.” Merick twisted the dagger deeper into his victims thigh. “Argh! Ok! Please stop! He associates with bandits. I was told to meet him at the current bandit base to deliver any news after I gave Mulahey his letter." Merick yelled in Tranzig's face, "Where is the bandit camp?!" Trazig pressed against the wall in pain and terror as he answered, "The base is northeast of the Peldvale forest.” Merick had one more question. “Do you know a tall man in dark armor?” Tranzig shook his bloodied head, his eyes full of terror but seemed to show the truth. Merick pulled the dagger from Tranzig’s leg. Tranzig looked greatfully at Merick and barely had enough time to say “Thank you.” before Merick drove the dagger into his chest. Merick left Tranzig to slide down against the wall as he left the room after he took the letter that Tranzig was meant to deliver from his backpack.

The letter was from Tarzok to Mulahey. It seemed that most of the letter was Tarzok scolding Mulahey again for not being able to control his kobolds from killing the occasional miner. However, the letter did make a short reference to Tarzok being just north of Peldvale to complete organising a large bandit raid to raid a heavy incoming convoy of iron carrying caravans. It seemed that all the information that Merick got out of his torture victim checked out and now he could only hope that Tarzok would still be in the bandit camp.

Merick made his way downstairs and avoided drawing any more attention here by legitimately purchasing some throwing axes, giving him a total of five. As Merick exited the inn, he noticed that people made way for Merick and stood well out of his path. This was just a small taste of the power Merick had drempt of. He would head north towards the Friendly Arm Inn but then stop short and head east to the forest of Peldvale, where the letter specified a rather large convoy of iron caravans is passing through. From there he would search the northern outskirts to find the camp where the bandits were preparing their raid, and in there, Tarzok.

[ 04-14-2007, 10:17 PM: Message edited by: Rockstar ]

CHAPTER 3
ACT VI
The Flaming Fist

Merick started his walk up to the Friendly Arm Inn. Although he’d received a heavy burn on his upper right arm, he knew the main roads were the quickest way to Peldvale, and time was of the essence. All he wanted to do was to find Tarzok. Merick pondered. Tarzok could not be the leader behind this whole operation. Tarzok was just a puppet being used to maneuver the bandit raids on the caravans. He had to be getting the funds from a higher source to pay these bandits for their services.

Merick journeyed about half way to the Friendly Arm Inn when he stopped in his tracks. He was not alone. The road he was on had turned into more of a bush track, with thick forest lining both sides of the road. As Merick had suspected five armored solders with bows sprung out of the forest creating a wonky twenty perimeter around the dwarf. On the chest plates of the soldiers was a picture of a burning fist. These soldiers were of The Flaming Fist. Merick wondered if he had bitten off more than he could chew this time. These soldiers were the elite of the elite and trained to work in small units. The officer that was searching for Merick in Beregost must some how have alerted a battalion up in Merick’s current location when Merick refused to go and speak to her. Merick felt his heart begin to race as he quickly drew his bow and an arrow as the five soldiers did the same and aimed at Merick.

Merick spun in a quick circle to see his enemies’ locations and aimed at one which spoke. “By order of The Flaming Fist, you are under arrest to stand trial for the murder of the Mayor of Nashkel. Now drop your weapons and lay on the ground. We will bind your hands and promise you will not come to harm.” Merick began to lower his bow as he muttered to himself. “This is one dwarf ye not be catching!” Merick snapped to his feet and fired a quick, but sloppy shot at the soldier in front of him. The arrow pierced the soldier’s hip before he cried out “Fire!”. Merick went to draw another arrow but got hit in his injured, right bicep. Merick dropped the arrow he was holding in that hand and bolted for the bush. As Merick hooked his bow over his back, he saw an arrow sail just above his head. He was nearly at the trees when he arched his back in agony as two more arrows hit him in his upper back. Merick dived into the forest and got hit again, this time in his calf. Merick thought that the end was near, but he could only run.

Bolting as fast as he could, Merick saw arrows sail past him and hitting tree trunks in front of him. Merick grit his teeth in pain, only concentrating on running as fast as he could. He jolted as another arrow hit him in the lower back. Merick kept running till he had lost them. Merick’s armor and thick skin had stopped the arrows from penetrating overly deep, but Merick was wounded, badly. Blood was running heavily down his armor, and as he felt himself weaken, Merick knew that couple more arrows in the wrong place would mean his fall. He hunched over in pain and exhaustion when he heard another arrow hissing through the air. An arrow hit Merick in the side, below his ribs. Merick kept on running, trying to keep a northward direction to save back tracking. Merick’s wounds were slowing him, but the forest was getting thicker and he soon lost his attackers.

Merick ran another kilometer before he nearly collapsed and stopped to rip out all the arrows and tip healing potions over his arrow wounds. Merick was deep in the forest where nobody could find him. His armor had heavy lines of blood leaking from the punctures where the arrows had hit and Merick knew that his only hope now was to rest in the hope that nobody found him while he recovered his wounds. The power that had healed him in the past was the only thing keeping him alive at this point. Merick lay against a tree and closed his eyes, knowing that if his power to heal was not strong enough, that he would die this day.

Merick awoke. He had overslept and the sun had gone down. He examined his wounds and found he was lucky. His wounds were bad, and although they had healed somewhat, he would be able to make a painful journey back to The Friendly Arm but would not be able to defend against any attack now until he could be healed. Merick got to his feet and trudged his way back to the main road until he reached the Friendly Arm Inn.

Merick went through the gates of the Friendly Arm Inn and headed straight to the temple. Merick staggered through and crashed over on a table. The priest could see Merick was wounded and immediately helped Merick onto the healing table as the healer got to work on him. Merick awoke to see the sun up. He had slept for hours and hours, but his wounds were gone and he felt rejuvenated. He sprung to his feet in a fluster and could only hope that Tarzok was still at the bandit camp, preparing the raid. Flustered, and not thinking, Merick threw a generous amount of at the priest and ran out of the in. His wounds were completely recovered but he did not have time to organise new armor. Merick dashed out of the Friendly Arm Inn and headed east and charged into the Peldvale Forest, to the bandit camp.

[ 04-17-2007, 10:17 AM: Message edited by: Rockstar ]

CHAPTER 3
ACT VII
Dreams and Signs

Merick made haste into the Peldvale Forest. He made considerable distance into the forest but it was late afternoon and he would need the cover of night to infiltrate an entire encampment of bandits and their leader, Tarzok. Merick sat against a tree trunk surrounded in bushed and nodded off.

Merick opened his eyes to find himself in the bottom of the Nashkel Mines. He walked slowly and cautiously through a long mine shaft, along the way seeing bodies of kobalds that he had killed himself. Merick stopped when he saw Mulahey. But this was not the half-orc that he had killed. It was a specter. Mulahey’s image was slightly transparent, with an aura of white light. As Mulahey stared blankly into Merick’s eyes, Merick noticed that the stab wound in the bottom of Mulahey’s skull was there, just as Merick had left him. Merick reached over his shoulder for his sword and to his waste for his axes, but his weapons had vanished. Merick charged at the specter, who stood blankly in one spot, and dived into it, tackling it to the ground. Merick immediately placed his hands round Mulahey’s throat and started to strangle him. Mulahey did not move and did nothing but stare in Merick’s eyes as Merick choked the specter to ensure it did not rise again.

All of a sudden, the specter started to fade and in a matter of seconds, Merick found himself choking thin air. Where Merick had held Mulahey’s throat in both hands, appeared a perfect dagger made of pure bone. The dagger gently levitated inline with Merick’s head, as he got to his feet. The dagger seemed to whisper to Merick. In his head he heard a dark voice whisper softly, yet forcefully, “Use the gifts that were given to you…” In the blink of an eye the dagger pointed itself at Merick’s heart and flew into his chest. Merick’s eyes snapped open, as he looked around and saw the sun setting on the forest. "Time to get moving again." Merick thought to himself. He got to his feet and started running through the forest. Ducking and weaving through the thick forest, Merick saw the sun overhead was setting and knew he had less than an hour of sunlight left.

The sun had gone down and Merick knew he could only be a couple of hours away from the bandit camp. He had reduced his speed to a walking pace and trudged through, what was now, a thick vine filled forest, dense with trees. Merick stopped. Something was wrong. He was being followed. Merick rested his left hand on his throwing axe as he stared at a suspicious bush. Merick began to tense when he heard a rustling from the bushes. Merick hurled the axe as something sprung out of the bush. The axe hit his enemy with a solid spray of blood. A wild dog was dead on the ground with the axe implanted deep in the top of its head. Merick shook his head in shame of himself, letting an animal sneak up on him like that. "Pathetic animal..." Merick muttered. As he reached down to dislodge his tomahawk when he heard the most subtle of steps behind him. Merick felt the adrenaline hit him like a sledge hammer. In the same immediate action, he dropped face down on the floor and drew his blade from over his shoulder. Merick rolled over to see a dark skinned elf pull back her short sword, which would have run straight through Merick had he not have fallen to the ground. The dark skinned elf was a Drow. The Drow were an evil, subterranean breed of elf and rarely seen on the surface. Merick, still on his back, raised his sword to stop some incoming chops at him. On the third strike from the Drow, Merick managed to hook her blade with his and swing it to one side. Merick followed through with his sword sailing straight through the Drow’s upper calf. The Drow women cried a shrill scream as icy blue sparks lit the dark surrounds, and her leg separated in two as she fell on her back screaming. Her stump only bled half as bad as it should have as it was half frosted over, and one side of her calf had icicles running about ten centimeters up it. Merick got to his feet and stood beside the screaming dark elf. Merick plunged his sword into the ground, right next to the dark elf's neck. Her scream lowered to a muffled groan as she the ice from the wound was causing her much pain. Merick spoke a one word question, “Bandits?” She closed her eyes and winced before reluctantly saying. “An hour to the north. A whole camp.” Merick did not let her get another word in as he scored his blade along the ground, across the Drow’s neck and severed it cleanly from her shoulders. Merick sheathed his blade and continued north until he could see the light from the campfires in the distance. He had found the bandit's camp.

[ 04-22-2007, 12:20 AM: Message edited by: Rockstar ]