The Grey Veil
Fenrick of of Estlake
Fenrick stared down the thin blade of his rapier, watching, waiting. The spells he parpared earlier sharpening his senses as much as they sharpened his blade. He saw the attack coming. He didn’t think, flowing through the motions. He knew when to feint, when to press the attack, when a quickly whispered spell would throw his opponent off balence. The bout lasted only a few passes, the ruffian lay in a pool of blood at his feet. Wiping Helioferrum clean on the fallen’s tunic, he eyed the rest of the room. He could feel their movements, knowing another rush was coming. His blade again ready, he waited for the next attack.
There in the shadows, a brief flicker, a movement in the corner of the eye. Fenrick smiled, knowing his back was safe. He walked into the building, seeing the gang of ruffians looking shocked at his entrance. He could only image their reaction when they realized he wasn’t the surprise, the little one they didn’t see in the back of the room wasn’t either. The coated dirk she was slipping between their leader’s ribs was the real surprise.
Drawing Helioferrum and giving a salute he sprang at the nearest to give her a chance to leave unnoticed. A laugh left his lips as he saw two more fall in the back of the room. Would they even realize that she had been there?
The girl in the corner looked up at Fenrick with adoring eyes. The ruffians had either been dispatched or had taken flight. “Thank you so much. You saved me.” Fenrick smiled his most humble smile and swept a courtly bow. “No, no, it is my pleasure.”
Daphne grabbed her carpet bag and then followed her new protector. Finally someone who could best any foe that come for her.
“A magic lute? Good Sir, the instruments I prefer are made of steel and typically are quite sharp,” Fenrick smiled and handed the lute back to the dwarf. It always happened, being mistaken for somebody else. One would think the clothes and steel would be a good indicator, but today a it’s a musician and yesterday it was somebody thinking he was an artist. Well yes, he though smiling, I am, but with quite a different canvas then they were thinking.
The dwarf was fumbling with the lute, breaking strings and cracking the neck. The patrons looked aghast at Fenrick when the dwarf started going on about how it was returned in such a condition.
Two down, three, four. Where were all these crazy men coming from?! Could they not see he was unstoppable! They were not afraid. Fenrick would show them; they would fear Helioferrum. He let his rage flare into his forms, his cuts transforming from elegant quick killing cuts to gruesome disfiguring strikes. He sunk Helioferrum all the way to its wicked hilt once, twice, through the gut, through the eye!
Finally standing in a ring of bodies the last few attackers dropped their weapons and fled. No one was left in the room except that weird sluggish amoeba looking creature in the corner with its dead eyes staring at him. “Hi I’m Clint, you’ll do nicely.” That was really sweet to hear coming from those lovely eyes that reminded him of the moon.