Chapter 7: Welcome to Grethenril

At around 10:00 the coach's passengers could see a faint glow in front of them; by 10:30, they were disembarking at the stable. The coach driver opened the cargo hold, unloaded the baggage, and handed the baggage. When no one came forward to claim two of the bags, one which was rather heavy, he set them aside in the stable's lost baggage hold. His job done, he went to the nearest tavern and checked in, resting his tired body and getting ready for another day.

As the last stable boy left for the night, a dark figure dropped from the undercarriage of the coach. Climbing out stealthily, Garrett walked over to the office of the stable. No one walking outside noticed as the master thief plucked his bag from the heaping mound of other travelling cases. Finding his immediately, he walked over to the nearest tavern.

The coach ride had been the one good part of the day for Garrett. After getting trapped by the Mechanists, escaping even with a shattered leg, and leaping onto the back of a moving coach with two extremely heavy bags, riding the coach to Grethenril was child's play. When the coach drew near to the small village, Garrett had swung himself underneath the carriage of the horse-drawn vehicle and waited. After the coach driver and passengers had left, the thief had emerged from hiding.

Safely procuring his bags, he looked around the dimly lit office for a back exit. Finding one, he found that it was locked. Not surprised, he reached into one of his bag's secret compartments. Withdrawing his two lockpicks, he set to work. The first lockpick, a silver one with a triangle-shaped head, didn't fit at all, not even slipping into the keyhole. Using the second lockpick, a golden square-headed one, Garrett was pleased to find that it fit the lock perfectly. Twisting the lockpick around, it slid the first part of the lock into place, jamming at the second tumbler. Taking the lockpick out of the keyhole, the thief inserted the silver one, which clicked a lot before finally undoing the lock completely. Wincing at the amount of noise it made, Garrett peeked out slowly. Seeing no one, he slid out into the dark alleyway.

The alleyway may have been dark, but both streets on either end of the alleyway were rather well lit. Since Garrett was dressed as a regular traveler, he probably would not be stopped by the local law enforcement. Gliding out into the street, he headed towards the nearest tavern. There he'd be able to check in for the night, and maybe even study a bit before his next carriage trip.

The streets of Grethenril contrasted sharply with the streets of the City. The City streets were well lit with torches on the many buildings. Even if there was no one in sight, the streets always seemed warm, welcoming to whomever might be wandering around at such an odd hour.

But the streets of Grethenril did not have such hospitality. Instead, the few streetlights reflected against the dark and withered stone, casting a bleak look to an already depressing atmosphere. While in the City there were people pacing the streets even at the latest of hours, not a single person strolled the cracked cobblestone under the blood-red moon. Walking along and following the rotting signs to the tavern, Garrett looked around at the buildings, which were no better than the streets around them. Every single one of them had some form of neglect, be it chewed up wood, a broken window, or a worn stone wall. If this was in the City the owners would have been thrown in jail for life, Garrett thought to himself as he walked up to the tavern, which also wasn't in the best conditions. Stepping inside, he again noticed the stark contrast between a tavern in the City and this humble tavern in Grethenril. A tavern in the city would be well lit, the room full of movement with dancers, a music band, and customers. The air would be filled with the sounds of music, merriment, and drink.

None of that was to be had in this tiny, squalid excuse for a tavern. There were almost no lights, and the little illumination was cast upon the few passed out patrons. The one employee was a hunched-over pale man with long hair whiter than the purest of snow. As Garrett walked up to him, the man spoke in a hoarse low voice, "Drinks no more. Closing for the night."

"I don't need a drink, I need a room," Garrett stated. "You have a room I can sleep in?"

The man looked at Garrett straight in the face for the first time, his two sunken eyes staring out from a skeletal face that was almost as pale as the man's hair. "Room, yes, got a room," he spoke in the same guttural voice. Turning around, he yelled into a room behind him, "Jansth!" A little boy, not older than ten, appeared next to the man. "Get man a room," the bartender ordered, "and quickly!" The little boy, in obvious fear of what could happen if he disobeyed the man, scurried off into the room. The man laughed, a hollow rasp laugh. "Good boy, that one," he told Garrett, "very good." As the little boy appeared again, he said to Garrett in a sweet, clear, innocent voice, "This way, mister." Trying to pick up Garrett's bags, he soon found that he couldn't pick up the bulging cases. No matter how hard he tried, he simply could not carry the over-laden bags, much to the irritation of his master. "Worthless!" the man shrieked, producing a large leather belt. Bringing it down on the small wailing boy, it made a loud smack as it struck the small child on the shoulder. Screaming, the child fell to the floor, writhing as the belt came down a second time. Raising the belt high above his head, the man sent it down towards the boy's head.

But its flight downwards was stopped short by a silvery sword. Wrapping itself around the sword, it was flung off into the distance. Moving the sword across to the pale man's throat, Garrett turned to the man. "That was unnecessary," the thief spoke quietly. "Those are heavy bags. You didn't have to hurt the boy for his body's shortcomings." The man nodded, a glint of fear in his eyes like a trapped rat. "No more hurt," the man spoke in a strangled voice. "Now put sword away!" Sheathing his sword, he spoke to the boy, who now sported a large welt on his shoulder and leg where the belt had hit him, "Please, show me to my room." The boy nodded, looking in amazement at the man who had dared to defy his master. Garrett picked up the bags as the boy led the way, failing to catch the angered look in the pale man's eyes.

After reaching the end of a corridor, the boy opened the door for Garrett, who set down the heavy bags and looked about his new quarters. The small room was actually in better shape than the bar out front, albeit the accommodations were sparse. The room contained a small cot, a table, a wastebasket, and a chamber pot. However, it was well-lit by an electric lamp, and the wooden walls were not rotting or peeling. The little boy watched as Garrett put down the bags. Speaking up, he said, "If you wishes to bathe, sir, there's is a pump outsides." "Thank you," the thief said as he put a gold coin in the boy's palm. "Keep this away from your master." The boy's face lit up when he saw the coin, but then motioned Garrett to lean close as he whispered, "I's doesn't think you shoulds have angered Mister Wellsey, sir. He cans get angry when peoples don't do what he wantses them to. I'm very happy thats you stopped him froms hurting me, but that mights not have been a good idea." Garrett smiled at the little boy's innocent wide-eyed look and told him, "That's okay my friend, I can take care of myself." Turning away, he heard the little boy run out and close the door. The thief smiled again. Kids could be so cute sometimes.

Garrett turned back to the situation at hand. From the looks of it, Grethenril didn't look like much of a town, so he'd be wasting his time if he tried to find anything of value in the houses. The only thing to do now would be to sleep and let the day pass by him. Flopping down on the bed, he snuffed out the light. Looking around in the darkness, he looked at the room one last time. The thief felt the blanket of sleep cover him, and he began to doze off…

Garrett woke up sometime later in the middle of the night. Something was amiss…he looked around. Everything was normal, as far as he could see. Getting up, he looked around. Still nothing…

Suddenly, an arrow passed right in front of his face. Flattening himself to the ground and looking out the window, he saw a quick shade of movement, then nothing. Shaken, he made his way over to the arrow that had almost sliced through his skull. Wiggling the arrow out of the wall, he noticed nothing unusual about it. But looking closer, he saw that there was a piece of parchment attached to the arrow. What a way to deliver a message, Garrett thought to himself. Damn near killed the receiver. Unraveling the parchment, he turned on the light and began to read:

Dear Mr. Garrett,

Though I have heard of you, you probably do not know anything of me. I am Fergrin, a former Keeper. Yes, I know that you shudder to hear that term. But I am in a great need of assistance. This is how it started:

When you defeated the Trickster, (few know about this event, and the few that know deny that it ever happened) many people sought to take control of the Maw of Chaos. Eventually Viktoria did succeed, but there are other powers besides the one that runs the Maw. One of those was Tsiikaa, a necromancer. Not satisfied with simply being the ruler of the dead, he has begun to organize a rebellion against Viktoria, in hopes that he will become the leader of the Maw.

To begin this rebellion, he has created a large force of the undead beasts. To gain the bodies and souls, he constructed a necropolis outside the boundaries of Grethenril. Then he began the mass slaughter of our townsfolk with a terrible undead creature called a specter. It flies as fast as a hawk, is as agile as a human, and can suck the very life out of you with a mere brush of its hand. He let a few of the people live, but they serve him and his dark purpose, in fear of what will happen if they displease him.

Tsiikaa does grow in power. When the time comes, he shall release a tremendous power of energy, the power of a thousand souls, into the earth. This force shall crack open the Maw, and he will begin his invasion. If he succeeds, there will be no end of his evil ways.

Garrett, you have defeated the Trickster, and you must defeat this man as well. If his plan does succeed, you will not escape his horrible reign. You must stop this plan. Everyone is counting on you. Please come to this address, and I shall help you put an end to this terrible plan.

Garrett read the letter and finished, annoyed. Why did every single faction in the entire world have to single HIM out? Why couldn't they find some other thief or Keeper or Pagan? Why HIM? Because you're the best, a voice in his mind said to him, you strove to become a master thief. Now look what you've got. You asked for it. Sighing, grumbling, and cursing, he dressed into his thief garbs: the black pants, a black jacket, some robes to hold objects in, and a cloak. Grabbing some arrows, gadgets, and the note, he climbed out the window and onto the crippled streets of a town cursed by a mavolent force of unknown proportions. How typical, Garrett thought to himself, strolling along the roads and searching for the address that was bound to give him another complication.

Chapter 6 / Chapter 8