Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Truemanhorn and Durat

“Lemmy do all da talking.” Durat said to his counterpart as they walked up the Street of the Singing Dolphin; his unremarkable mace in hand while the crisp clean wind blew back his black hood. “We dunt want to look stupit, we speak for Sai Tauron.” He swung his mace in an underhanded swing aimed to loosen the jaws of some imaginary opponent.

Truemanhorn looked desolate; he wanted to be a part of the investigation and to experience some notoriety for being more than an indentured servant. While the brisk north wind made his eyes water up frequently, Truemanhorn was still able to see and be enthralled by the buildings and sights on this side of Waterdeep. The Sea Ward, nicknamed the Temple Ward, was a moving experience for Truemanhorn in its graceful steeples and the expressions of art. It reminded him of the art in some of the books he read as a child. Inspired, Truemanhorn formulated a plan and tactfully interrupted his friend who was still insisting he be the one to make their inquiries.

“We need a ploy to trick them into slipping up or mayhap uncover opposing stories.” Truemanhorn said. Durat looked at him as if insulted.

Ahead of them on the street, a group of five individuals turned in their direction; Truemanhorn thought they looked a little out of place for this side of town, but so, he mused- did they. To him they reminded him of Bordane for some reason, smug and opposing.

“I be gettn dem to talk.” Durat tested the weight of his mace in his hands; his voice began to take on a brutish quality that was definitely not conviction. “Dees people wheeled in a token gift when itz an evil trap aimed at me friends, and you wanta talk it outta dem!?” Durat looked at him as if Truemanhorn has just suggested they present them with perfumes and oils. “Have you gone mad?”

“No.” Truemanhorn replied; he was not discouraged by Durat’s protests.

“We can have it both ways my eager friend.” Truemanhorn said; Durat’s look of skepticism was comical, to Truemanhorn he looked like a stupefied thumb-sucking cully.

The five individuals were advancing closer now, Truemanhorn could see their black armor, red helms, and fearful wands; one of them could be mystic or warlock Truemanhorn thought because he held aloft a incense censor that bled aromatic smoke ahead of them, it was hard to look at that one for very long as that one was surrounded by a glamor that displaced his form from one blink of Truemanhorn’s eye to another.

“We can use a trick called good guard- bad guard. I’ll be the good guard who asks the questions like: are you missing any wagons and who they may have sold to that matches the description Tauron gave us. You can be the bad guard who then barks a more forceful interrogations.” Pointing at Durat’s mace, Truemanhorn paused for the understanding he knew would soon come. And when it did, Durat’s simple features began to smile.

As the good guard and the bad guard approached and stopped at the Assumbar estate; Truemanhorn realized why the group reminded him of Bordane, it was their symbols of Bane the Dark Lord.

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