Shadowdance 01 - A Dance of Cloaks

blind, and before him was a clay pot. Ethric watched as a chubby merchant wearing red and purple silks atop his tunic tossed in a handful of coins. Before the merchant could escape, the dark paladin was there, grabbing his arm while stabbing his sword into the pot.
    “Let go of me,” the merchant shouted as he tried to wrench his arm away. Ethric’s grip did not loosen. When he pulled the sword out of the pot, the sharp tip had pierced through the center of one of the coins.
    “What charity is this?” Ethric asked as black fire surrounded the blade.
    “Help for those less fortunate,” said the chubby man as he looked around for someone to aid him. There were none. Everyone recognized Ethric’s black armor, the dark flame of his blade, and the white lion skull painted on his breastplate. Just like the priests of Karak, the paladins were forbidden from entering Veldaren, but when inside they were never seen. Better to safely ignore the darkness than call it out and risk death.
    “Shall you buy your way into eternity?” asked Ethric. The coin slowly melted, the copper dripping down the length of the blade, bubbling and popping. “If copper to a blind man saves your soul, imagine your rewards if you threw gold to the feet of a truly holy man.”
    “You’re evil,” the merchant said. Ethric felt impressed by his courage.
    “Evil?” he asked. He ripped the silks from the man’s tunic and held them aloft. “You parade before a blind man in wealth that could feed him for years while tossing him a pittance you will never miss. That is not piety. That is disgusting.”
    He turned and rammed the silk into the blind man’s pot. The merchant stood with his hands shaking, his eyes torn between the dark paladin and the silk.
    “No fighting, have mercy. A kindness is a kindness, no matter the size,” the blind man said, trying to defuse the situation. Ethric only smiled and gestured to the pot. His sword still burned with fire.
    “What is more important to you?” he asked the rich man. “Your wealth, or your supposed bribes to the fates?”
    When the merchant reached down for the silk, Ethric cut him down. With two vicious hacks he separated the head and dumped it atop the pot. The blood poured freely, ruining the silk and drenching the few coins within.
    “Gifts are always repaid in blood,” Ethric said to the blind man. “Altruism is a delusion. Grace is weakness masked in lies.”
    By now a crowd had surrounded him, shouting and pointing angrily. The dark paladin smiled, and when he stretched out his sword, the people made him a path. With so many swarming the streets, it took a good while for the city guard to arrive. He heard the distant commotion behind him, but felt no fear that they might come searching. They would hear his description, and know him for what he was. That alone would prevent any real search. No city guard was dumb enough to challenge a paladin of Karak, not without an army at its back.
    Despite the delay, Ethric’s mood remained good. He had very little to work with in his search for the faceless women, but Pelarak had given him one tangible lead. On the inside of the wall, about half a mile north of the western gate, Pelarak had told him of a crack. It was wide, running lengthwise along the stones of the wall like a lone bolt of lightning. If Pelarak ever needed to contact the faceless women in urgency, he had an apprentice leave a note in the crack while the stars were bright. By morning it’d be gone.
    Ethric found the crack, looking exactly as it’d been described to him. The street was quiet, modest homes with immodest fences on either side. They appeared new, most likely built after Thren’s little war had started. He removed his glove and put his hand against the deepest part of the crack.
    A smile lit up his face. His lengthy training had attuned his body to all things magical, both clerical and wizardly in nature. Deep inside the crack was a simple alert spell, one that would send warning to the caster whenever the ward was tripped. The faceless women would never need to check, yet would always know when they had a message and could retrieve it before the dawn. Seeing beauty in the spell’s simplicity, Ethric reminded himself to treat his foes with greater respect.
    Deciding to treat simplicity with simplicity, he found a large rock and shoved it into the crack, tripping the ward. Now the only question that remained was how long it’d take one of the women to arrive.