Adventures of Abd al Bari – Daughful the Snake

part 2 after a fathers wish.


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The dark smoke rising in the distance causes Abd to pull his horse to a halt.  He has been traveling this frosty South Brixian road for weeks since leaving the comfortable heat of his Shakkadian home.  He had travelled this far by attaching himself to caravan’s as far as he could and then hiring local guides.  He had to deal with his share of strange looks; not many tanned skinned Shakkadians are seen this far north, but his good humor has seen him past any potential trouble prejudice might have brought.

 

His coin had run out days ago, and he was unable to continue paying for his guide. 

 

“The lack of charity in this land of peaches is distressing, and now this foolishness.” Abd says to himself ruefully.  Peach skin, the slang term used among many Shakkadians to refer to the lighter skinned Brixians, falls ruefully from his lips.  The peach, a rare delicacy imported to his country from the west, does not do well in the heat of Shakkadia, and quickly spoiled if not treated delicately.  What he refers to is the less than polite way his guide told him he would no longer be working for Abd, when he discovered the sandy skinned Shakkadian’s money had run low. 

 

But Abd has travelled to many distant locals and desolate places and travelling through these along this forest road is not beyond his ability to navigate.  He has a reliable map of the nearest towns, and will have no problem sustaining himself.

 

“Well, let us see what can be seen, by Tamiree’s eyes.” Abd says, invoking the name of the god of truth, whos vision cannot be hidden from.

 

He walks his horse into the woods and ties it to a tree. Hopefully it will be out of sight.  He then carefully moves down the road and around a bend, only to come upon the ruins of a small village.  He slowly scans the town and relaxes, somewhat as he sees no sounds of life.  Abd pulls a map from his horse satchel and examines it carefully.

 

“So this is Loftshire.”  Abd says, looking down at the map. “Jewel of all Brixia.”

 

He pauses nervously prompts his horse to move forward until he enters the edge of the town.  The faint smell of burning flesh assails his nostrils as he looks upon the scattered bodies of the village and its attackers.

 

Women and children lay amongst the uniformed guardsman and more roughly clad marauders.  They town put up a fight bet was brutally and mercilessly overwhelmed.

 

Abd notices for the first time that the raiders are black haired, where the guardsmen tended to brown or sandy haired.  Their look sets them apart from the South Brixians.  They must be their more barbaric Brixians of the north that he has heard about but never set eyes upon. 

 

Abd wrinkles his nose and dismounts his horse.  This kind of carnage is not something he his accustomed to, but he must press on.  The trail of the thieves led him here and the Horn of Imbugud must be found. If whoever raided this village has it, then his problems have just multiplied tenfold.

 

Abd ties his horse to a broken post and looks at the buildings the make up the town.  The village could not have contained more than a few hundred people, so it shouldn’t be too difficult to find some clue.  

 

He looks until he finds what must be the town’s tavern and moves towards it.  He steps through the broken door and sees an unusual sight, even in this town of horrors. 

 

Robed figures litter the inside of the main hall, as well as dozens more of the raiders.  There are strange burns and markings in the armor of the North Brixian’s as well as the more mundane cut and slashes.  The robed men put up a fight before they were killed, whoever they were, and not just with swords.

 

Abd kneels and slowly pulls the cowl from one of the robed figures and jerks his hand back, as if stung by a scorpion.

 

“My father’s shriveled big toe!!”  Abd exclaims. The porcelain white face of a shadow elf stares up at him.  Its red eyes have gone a stone grey color in death.

 

Abd begins to slowly back out of the room, when he hears the sounds of horses approaching.

 

“Damn.” Abd hisses.  He considered rushing outside and making a break for his horse, but quickly rethinks his impulse.  He would never make it.  It’s best to hide and see who he’s dealing with.

 

The treasure hunter looks around the large hall.  There are long tables running through the middle of the room, and chairs knocked haphazardly around it.  There are plates of food and overturned goblets.  Dinner was been eaten, when the attack came.  Abd gazes up at the ceiling and smiles.

 

“A storm of death has struck this place.” Whalid the Thief says, as he guides his horse up the battle torn street. Riding next to him are 12 other men; Shakkadians all.  These men are dressed for the cold weather; overdressed in fact.

 

“To be sure.” The deep voice of Daughful the Snake agrees.  He is not a large man, but he has the rugged, caged look of a seasoned adventurer.  He looks around uncomfortably, but he is not shaken.  He has seen and done many bad things, and what he is seeing here is not foreign to him.

 

“I think it best if we turn around.” Whalid whines. “This is getting too dangerous.”

 

“We will not turn around.” Daughful says simply.  Daughful is tough without doubt, and his henchman; vicious cutthroats, are no less hardened.

 

“Perhaps I should then head back to the town and await your return.” Whalid says, as he begins to turn his horse around.

 

“You will do nothing, worm.” Daughful says.  There is steel in his voice.  Whalid freezes.  Daughful is ruthless, and not easily turned around.  He is as brave as he is treacherous, and Whalid knows not to annoy the man.

 

“As I said.” Whalid says, reversing himself. “I will not rest until I have served that sandworm Abd al bari’s head up to you on a golden plater!”

 

Daughful looks at the cunning little man blackly.  If there weren’t a king’s ransom in gold involved, he would never put up with the cur.  But for now he needs Whalid.  He will run the runt through once he has the Horn in his hands.

 

“We shouldn’t wait around here, Daughful.” One of the henchman says as the group pulls their horses to a halt in front of the large hall. “We should hurry and check these buildings, so that we may move on.”

 

“You are right Bashiir.” Daughful says thoughtfully. Bashiir is his most trusted right hand, or as trusted, as any of these scum could be, and his word carries much weight with Daughful.

 

“Quickly search these buildings.” Daughful says; dismounting. 

 

At his command the men also dismount, and spread out among the buildings.  Only Whalid remains atop his steed.  Daughful and two of his men enter the main hall, while Bashiir directs the remaining men about the rest of the town.

 

Daughful enters the main hall and his men fan out, and begin searching amongst the bodies for any clues, as to what has gone on here.  One of the men jumps back and makes a holy symbol.

 

“Shadow Elves.” The man spits.

 

Daughful raises an eyebrow.  He has no problem with the creatures.  He has dealt with them many times on the black market.  But it is said that a dead Shadow Elf will bring black luck to whoever gazes upon him.

 

“Asahn, Kulmbesh, it is time to exit I think.” Daughful says to his men, who eagerly agree. 

 

As Kulmbesh turns to leave a bit of soot lands upon his shoulder.  He looks at the clump of dirt and then towards the ceiling.

 

Suddenly a length of leather snaps downward and around his neck, and he is jerked violently into the air.  Abd drops down holding the other end of the whip.  He has hung the length of leather across a ceiling beam and as he drops down the unfortunate Cutthroat is jerked in the air.

 

Kulmbesh’s arms and legs jerk wildly, as his neck is snapped.  Abd swings forward and releases the whip.  His momentum swings him toward Daughful the snake, who fumbles to pull his curved sword from its sheath.

 

Abd releases the handle of the whip and flies into the stunned Daughful, planting both feet directly into his chest.  The shocked grave robber crashes back into a long table, and smashes through it.  His sword goes flying across the room and clatters into a corner.

 

With uncanny agility Abd rebounds off of Daughful and lands deftly on his feet, as the body of Kulmbesh crashes to the ground.  The third henchman, Asahn, charges Abd, his own sword drawn and ready.

 

Abd flicks a throwing dagger at Asahn and catches the man just above his breastbone.  The heavy clothing he wears to fight the cold is unsupported by any armor, and the blade sinks into his soft flesh.  The stricken man topples forward, gurgling on his own blood.

 

Abd recoils at Asahn’s violent ending, but one of them had to die and Abd was determined that it not be him.

 

Abd glances to his left in time to see Daughful hurtling at him, a long piece of wood, a remnant of a shattered table, in his hands.

 

He swings madly at Abd who pitches backward out of the woods arc.  Daughful follows closely behind the flipping Abd.  Wild blows smashing into the already battered furniture of the hall.

 

The two struggling men; stomp on and tumble over the dead bodies of North Brixian, Shadow Elf and Shakkadian treasure hunter.  Daughful, doing his best to cave in the head of his rival, chases madly after the fleet footed adventurer. 

 

One of Abd twisting maneuvers brings him next to Kulmbesh’s body, and he reaches down and grabs the handle of his whip, freeing it from the man’s neck.  As Daughful closes in with his improvised club, Abd snaps his wrist and entangles the Snake’s ankles.  With a jerk he pulls Daughful off his feet, causing him to land painfully on his back.

 

“You twisting monkey!” Daughful shouts as he struggles to get up. “I’ll have you yet!”

 

“You have made that same promise before.” Abd laughs. “And what you pledge has yet to happen.  I am truly disappointed in you, for what does a man have if not his word?”

 

Abd snaps his whip towards Daughful and the leather tip snakes out and rakes across the sputtering man’s face, leaving a bright red swath of blood.  Daughful howls in pain and clutches at his burning face.

 

Abd stands and snaps a bow towards the writhing Snake.

 

“Until next time.” Abd says smiling. “You are lucky that I don’t have time to finish you off.  But let the trademark I left on your face, be a reminder of my mercy.”

 

With that the smiling adventurer sprints from the hall and leaps onto the back of Daughful’s horse.  The rest of the men, having heard the commotion, are rushing towards the sounds of battle, but arrive too late to stop Abd.

 

Abd laughingly kicks Whalid from his horse as he rides by, sending the cringing man headlong into the frozen ground.

 

“Pardon my foot good friend Whalid.” Abd says. “Hopefully your head is as soft as your behind!”

 

With that Abd rides up the road and away from the destroyed town.  Several of the scrambling henchman jump atop their horses in a futile attempt to give chase, but their riding skill is nowhere near Abd’s and they are quickly left behind.

 

“Farewell my good friends.” Abd yells behind him. “May Kumel smile upon you!”

    


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