There are times when sorcerers need loyal protectors who have mastered the art of swordplay. These guardians and enforcers are known as Thayan knights; familiar with magic and devoted to none but the Red-robed ones.
Born with no sorcerous bloodline, young boys are trained in
martial arts; languages and spellcraft. During the feast of Labraen, a day when its constellation is at its zenith, squires are required to prove themselves in
various contests of will, cunning and stamina. Many are knighted and are
entered into these specialized Thayan ranks; alternately there are others who
are sent west in disgrace…
Sturm Brightblade has always led his life following the Thayan
knight code. Outcast from the order over twenty years ago; he could always find a
mage or alchemist who needed a trustworthy sword or translator. Ironically Sturm
has been fulfilling his training since Homen Abarbrent and his family has been
in Waterdeep. Sturm has devoutly served the Thayan Ambassador in many ways
often as proxy; today however brings the bitter taste of interrogating a spy.
Brightblade was not Sturm’s family name; his truename was one that
invoked horrible madness to anyone who hears him speak it, besides Brightblade
sounded trustworthy and honorable. Nevertheless, Sturm found a sadistic
pleasure in sharing his truename with individuals he thought he could
manipulate, but more often than not such experiments ended with unintended
results.
Sturm entered the dungeon chamber where the spy was being
incarcerated; a box, known as an alchemist’s box because it once contained a
complete traveling laboratory. The box was being tended to by two knolls or “watch
dogs” that sniffed the air curtly when Sturm entered; a low growl emanated from
the gnoll on the left.
“Open the box.” Sturm ordered the gnoll on the right, and when he
did the first thing the creature in the box saw was a very agitated monstrous
gnoll.
Sturm looked down at unfortunate man in the box. He was short for
a man with a finely groomed mustache, expensive clothes, and… was that perfume?
He barked orders to the gnolls while pacing counter clockwise around the spy
who only watched. After what seemed like a long time to the spy, the gnolls
returned with various instruments of pain and exploratory tools. Looking into
the captive’s eyes, Sturm began to ask his questions.
A few hours later, Sturm found himself standing in front of Thayan
Ambassador Homen reporting his findings; blood was still fresh on Brightblade’s
arms, hand and face.
“The spy claims to be sent by the Knights of Antiquity to observe
Thayan movements and explore your involvements, Ambassador Homen.” As Sturm
spoke, a tiny devil shifted in the darkness.
“What has he learned, trusted bondman?” Homen spoke with the
cultured sophistication of a Thayan Noble. The devil’s ears twirled toward
Sturm, its hands thrummed excitedly.
“Tyrus found a supply of Obliviax, memory-moss, in Undermountain and
how it was going to be used; the treachery of Ar-Kane the Wise; but nothing
about your daughters- the twins or even Syllia’s child. He says his name is…”
Sturm was saying more, but the tiny devil known as Imp Lord Pinprik had heard
enough and was away in a whisper.
On a balcony overlooking the canals of Skullport, Moala and
Omerrta Abarbrent waited for their punishment to come from their father. Their mischief
has finally cost years of subterfuge and resources as well as the lives of
others. The lives mattered little to the human-tiefling sorcerer daughters of
the Ambassador, but they had hoped to one day oversee the Thayan operations in
Waterdeep.
As swift as quicksilver Lord Pinprik appeared up and over the balcony
to address its mistresses, “My ladies,” Lord Pinprik bowed deeply, its devil’s
tail lashed from side to side. “Tyrus will have to be more careful in the
future,” Lord Pinpirk laughed manically. “But, no one yet knows of your divine connection
with Gargauth.”
At
this, the manical laugh was shared by all.
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