Solo Warrior 19: Machine on a Mission

[Bungleau]

Back to Chapter 18 - - - Back to the Beginning

Missy Hissy no longer thought much about whether killing was appropriate or not; it was simply something she did, much as she’d drink a Boogre brew placed in front of her at a bar. Birds flew, flowers bloomed, and she killed. Nice and simple. No shades of gray, no halfway points. You lived, it died. If it lived, then you died. Game over.

As Missy walked toward the town, she spied a lone figure walking through the dappled trees ahead. Putting a bit of fire in her step, she moved closer, and soon recognized the scaly traveler she had met near the gates of Valeia, so long ago and yet so recently.

“Hail, stranger,” she called as she emerged from some low-hanging willows. “Where be—yikes!”

Missy ducked as the traveler threw a spell her way. Venom bite, burning haze – it didn’t matter. The rule was all that applied – you live, or you die. She moved closer and pulled out the wizard’s blade she’d found in the chest near the Mavin sword. After some enchanting in Ishad N’ha, it was now a formidable weapon, and much faster to work with than her old nightblade.

Flicking the blade left and right, using the defensive tricks of the ninja and the swordwork of the samurai, she soon brought the traveler to his knees.

“Hold a moment,” begged the green-skinned snakeman. “Spare me, and I can make it worth your while.”

“Who are you, that you beg for life at the end of it?” asked Missy.

“I am but a simple traveler, a merchant who goes from town to town, buying low and selling high. Grue Mor—er, Mordecai is my name, and I’ve but recently come from Frosgard, where they talk of giants that live in floating castles in the sky,” said the quaking traveler. “Perhaps there’s something I can offer you that you dream of….”

Missy’s eyes hardened into narrow slits. “The only things I dream of you cannot provide, save perhaps one. This ring is tied to me somehow… can you tell me anything of it?” She showed him the black pearl flying merwoman ring.

His eyes grew quiet as he looked at the ring for a long time. Finally, he spoke. “I’ve seen this ring before, it and one other like it. They were part of a dark contract, one of the most diabolical bargains ever struck. The nature of the ring indicates the importance – black pearl is one of the rarest of gems, marking it a high-goldpiece contract. And the figure carved in it represents the contractor, the person offering to pay. There aren’t many flying merpeople, to be sure. The last ones seen were in the area of Collaseum, but that town is long gone, faded from sight centuries ago. Of recent sightings… I can think of none, except – no. Not even then could it be.”

Missy pocketed the ring. “Interesting, but not very useful. And a feeble attempt at lying, as well. No merchant would know the details of an assassin’s contract. Only an assassin would, and one would hope a smart assassin at that. You’re not. And the guild has sent me to put an end to your misdeeds. You know the circle – you live, or you die. And today, you die.”

With a quick dagger thrust, Missy pierced the heart of the scaly assassin, stepping back to watch his green life’s blood bubble into the soil of the Gael Serran. Soon, worms and roaches would be taking the nutrients from his body and passing them elsewhere in the circle of life. So it had always been, and so it would be.

Picking up a scroll that Grue Morde had dropped, she continued on towards Brimloch Roon. “You live, or you die,” she muttered to herself.

The noise of clanking armor came to her over the gentle breeze. Palming her wizard’s blade in her hand, she moved toward the sound. A group of rogues – no, more. True banditos, rogues who traveled the forests and waylaid unwary tourists. She marched through them toward the one who appeared to be their leader.

“Brahmar the Bandit King I am, and today, I’m in a good mood. Leave your gold and valuables, and I’ll leave you your life,” he said, flecks of spit and meat flying from his bearded mouth across the greenery.

“You’ll have none from me,” said Missy, “and less from others.” Taking a step back, she called on Jathil’s mind tricks and her own protections and launched a firestorm at the crowd of banditos. As the molten balls fell from the sky, they began to attack, throwing knives and shooting arrows. She calmly dodged their missiles and advanced forward, dispatching one and then another until she stood in front of Brahmar.

“Not such a good mood now, eh?” she asked. “You live, or you die.” With a final thrust, she left the bandit king to fertilize the forest.

No excitement. No thrill. No fear. Just death. Butterflies twirled in circles. Missy killed. Villagers brought forth a new generation of villagers. Missy killed. Politicians plotted. Missy killed. She didn’t think much about it any more, just did it. You live, or you die.

Ahead, she spied the gates of Brimloch Roon. Standing in front of the iron gates, erected to protect the citizenry, she smiled slightly. Their protection was largely symbolic; anyone with a bit of athleticism could simply climb over the gates. Moderately strong, and you could push them open, using a sword blade to separate the wooden boards. Nothing is as strong as its weakest point, and the use of wood to protect against fire beasts was suspect, at best.

Creating a portal, Missy decided to head back to Ishad N’ha one last time in order to finish up the last few tasks remaining. Summoning herself to the town, she stopped at the pawn shop to collect her payment for Grue Morde’s death. A pity, really. It was much less than she had anticipated. And to the town hall, to tell Barrenhawk of the end of the Bandit king. Gratefulness and an honorarium were her reward, and truth be told, she’d prefer there to be more “arium” and less “honor”.

She stopped in at the warriors guild for a last time. “Yer different now,” said the guildmaster. “Ye’ve moved to the point of oneness, a spot where this world matters less.”

She looked him over. Though he was a simple shopkeeper, and though he was a trained warrior, there was far more to him than appeared at first sight. “Aye,” she said. “There is little of this world that matters, and my role is clear.”

“Say no more,” said the guildmaster. “There are two kinds that reach this spot in life where you are – where life itself changes meaning. Those who survive it become the great ones of the world.”

“And of those who don’t?” asked Missy.

“They make fine corpses for a funeral,” replied the guildmaster grimly. “’Ere. Take this carta and head on your way to Brimloch Roon. It will give you an introduction to the warriors there, and they can help in your path.”

Missy accepted the rolled scroll and headed out the oaken door, her face tight and her emotions in check… barely.

On to Chapter 20

[ 02-26-2003, 10:53 PM: Message edited by: Bungleau ]

[chi master]

How do you do it bung!

[macoati]

The plot...thickens? B, that was by far one of the better 'rights of passage' scripts I think I have ever read!!! Magnificent!!! I hear Pulitzer talking!!!

[bsftcs]

I would even say the Nobel Literature Prize.

[WillowIX]

Great story Bungleau! Too bad you´re on the road now for a week. I want chapter 20! LOL!

Perhaps we should come up with our own rewards? The Freudianslip Award for best Toad imitation, The Wyvern Award for saving the most NPCs etc.

[kev]

With Missy's present dark demeanor I fear for Oakenmir's safety.
Will Missy become an evil charactor? I must know. & soon.

[LiOnHe@rT]

i dun tink Missy hissy cares about anyting for now, now she is juz a free-for-all killer.........
but still, GREAT STORY BUNGLEAU! at least this W&W forum has someone famous--- Bungleau, bets writer for "True W&W Stories"!!! i wonder wat cahpter 20 is gona be........
give it up for bungleau! [img]graemlins/thewave.gif[/img]

[Olli Kalma]

Originally posted by kev: With Missy's present dark demeanor I fear for Oakenmir's safety. Will Missy become an evil charactor? I must know. & soon.

I don't believe Missy would kill Oakenmir...
Unless she needs some seed of life...