As of 12/17/97
In the dead of night in the great city of Sahmbarrah, a shadow disengaged itself
from the protection offered by the wall at its back and moved, without a sound, to
a pool of darkness at the base of another wall across an alley. There, the
shadow stopped for a few moments, watching and listening for anything that
may have seen its movement. Fully satisfied that nothing noted its passing, the shadow
turned to the wall and quickly, skillfully, began to ascend it.
At the top, the figure crouched down and again waited. And waited. In a crouch,
the figure made its way over to the far side of the building, toward its intended
target for the evening. Across the way, in a drab looking building, lay his goal.
Taking a rope, with a grappling hook attached, from where it was tied to his belt,
he took stock of the situation. Below, hidden, but not well-hidden, he saw a
man standing in the shadow of a doorway, katana at his side, and another figure
sitting in a darkened second story room, crossbow cocked and loaded, watching
the door guard's back.
The figure on the rooftop readied his grappling hook by slipping a thick piece of
cloth over each of the hooks, tying them in place once they are all on. He then
began to swing the hook, measuring the distance to the other rooftop with his eye.
He released and the hook flew unerringly to its goal. With a soft thud, it landed
well back from the edge of the roof. A tense moment passed as the
crossbow man rose, but only to stretch tired muscles. When he returned to his
seat, the figure on the roof slowly counted two hundred heartbeats, then added fifty
more. He slowly began to draw the rope to him, taking up the
slack, and then tied it to a chimney. Once the knot was completed, he carefully stepped
onto the rope and slowly made his way across to the other building.
Setting his feet once again on a stable surface, he rolled out of sight behind another
smokeless chimney, drawing a black-bladed dagger as he did so. But the
precaution was unnecessary, as no one was about. Slipping his backpack from
his shoulders, he fished out another grappling hook and rope, this one knotted at
regular intervals to aid in climbing. Anchoring it to the brickwork on the chimney,
he slowly let ten feet of rope down, keeping the rest looped over his right shoulder. As
he scaled down the chimney, he let out more rope as needed by allowing the loops
to fall off his shoulder, one at a time. Seeing a dim light at the bottom, he stopped
and again listened intently for what seemed to be an eternity.
Hearing nothing, he gently eased himself to the floor, crouched, and looked around
the room he was now in - a reading room, with walls full of shelves laden with
books. The only source of light came from a candle someone had apparently forgotten
to extinguish for the night. For the first time, the figure's features were visible. He was a
Pseithen with coppery red hair and finely sculpted features on a tanned face.
His green eyes scanned the room, looking for any telltale movements. A slow
smile played across his lips as he rose from the fireplace and moved across to
the only door in the room. At the door, he placed his ear against the wood and
again listened intently. Easing the door open, he peeked through the crack and
saw a hallway extending away from him, with various doors leading off of it into
other rooms. At one of the doors, another guard stood with his back against
the doorjamb of the room he was guarding. Eyes glazed over, the guard was apparently
ready for the watch change. Within moments, the guard snapped awake at the sounds of
a person coming up a stairway. Another similarly armed guard rounds the corner
and approached the suddenly wide awake door guard. With a few whispered
words, the first guard was relieved, sending him off to his bed.
After a surprisingly short period of time, the new guard began nodding off. Giving the
guard ample time to become bored with his duty, the Pseithen waited for several moments before
making his move.
Quickly slipping from the room and silently easing to the wall, he crouched and waited a
moment. Slipping another of the blackened daggers into his left hand, the Pseithen quietly
made his way toward the guard. Ten feet away, he stops and listened once again.
Hearing nothing, the Pseithen moved the last few feet and, rising up behind the guard, placed one blade between the guards slightly parted lips and thrust backward
at the same time so that the other blade came from the other side and plunged
into the guard's neck. The dagger continued, ripping out the front, cutting any sound that might have escaped the
dying guard's lips. Reaching out, he grabbed the dead guard's spear as it
slipped from his nerveless fingers and began to fall. The Pseithen's other hand gently eased the
guard's body to the floor. Breathing heavily, the Pseithen quickly regained his composure and
worked to slow his breath.
Again, he listened at the door and cracked it open after hearing nothing but deep
rhythmic breathing on the other side. Suddenly, he spotted a handmaiden asleep on a pallet
in the corner. He moved over to her and stooped down, wadding up a corner of her blanket.
He kicked his toes in her solar plexus, causing her to loose her breath. When
she opened her mouth to try to breath, he crammed the wadded blanket into her
mouth. Since she was human, he was not worried about her seeing him in the near
complete darkness of the room. Instead, he flipped her over onto her belly and
quickly tied her thumbs together. Then he did the same to her wrists and feet,
hog-tying her, and effectively immobilizing her.
Rising from his position near the girl, he approached the door leading into the
main bedroom. Gently easing it open, he peered in at the couple sleeping on the
huge bed to his right. In a crouch, he moved over to the sleeping figure he felt
was the woman and, rising slightly, he saw his guess right. Going through the
same procedure as with the hand maiden, without bothering to tie her up, he
quickly silenced her. When the husband opened his eyes and saw the intruder,
the figure placed the edge of the blackened dagger at his throat, also silencing
him, but in a more dramatic fashion (being told the blade at your throat is
poisoned will do that). Bulging eyes staring at the intruder, the man watched as he
readied a gag and then opened his mouth obligingly when ordered to do so.
Once gagged, he was ordered to roll onto his side and place his hands behind
his back. Looping a previously made slip knot over the mans thumbs, the
intruder quickly had the mans hands and feet tied. Finishing with the woman,
he then sat back, admiring his work.
Reaching into a pouch at his side, he withdrew a flask and a vial. The vial he
gently set on a nearby night table, and the flask was uncorked. Drinking from the
flask deeply, it was evident that the nights work had made him very thirsty. Once
done, he replaced the flask in his pouch and approached the immobilized man
in the bed. Replacing the daggers edge back at the mans throat, he removed
the gag.
Speaking in a low voice he said, his voice light and melodic, "Make a
single noise louder than my voice is right now, and we'll see if the poison I
bought is as fast-working as I was told it was. Understand?" At the mans
harshly whispered, "Y-y-y-y-yesss," the Pseithen said, "Don't whisper. Just
talk as I am now." Now that the man understood, the intruder says, "You and I
will have a little talk here tonight. And depending on whether or not I believe
you, you may live to see the sun rise again. Understood? Good. Now, many
years ago, you and some others of the Shadow Warriors raided a small village
on the other side of the Straits of Manag-Tsu. It was a relatively unknown place,
populated by a small number of my people. I know you were there because I
saw you personally." At the frantic shake of the mans head, the intruder said,
"Do not try and deny it now. I personally saw you with my own eyes as you and
the other soldiers slew everyone there."
Seeing the look of desperation in the
mans eyes, he said, "I know you were a soldier and just taking orders, though
I see that you have risen in rank since that time. Ahhhh, yes. I know of the
tattoos and their significance. You see, I have been studying your organization
and learning of its ways. You were a soldier then and you are a captain now. I
also want you to know that I want to know the names of those that lead the
attack. I do not want the names of the soldiers, just those they followed. Name
them now, and you and your wife will both live. Name them not, and you will
both die, but not with this fast acting poison, but with a measurably slower
kind."
As the man began to speak, the sound of fear working its way into his voice,
the intruder withdrew a sheet of paper and made a show of writing down all of
names he heard. When the man was finished, the intruder replaced the
gag and sat back away from the man. Looking at him intently, the intruder
again began to speak, still in a whisper but this time with a rage in his voice
that was almost palpable, "You stupid oaf! Do you think that I would go through all
of the trouble to get the names of those responsible for my people death and
promise to let you live, even though I have taken no precautions to hide my
identity? Do you think me stupid? Besides, I watched as YOU looked down on
my youngest sister, Talanthia, and spoke soothing words to her as you opened
up her throat! I watched as you destroyed my entire village, but I was powerless
to stop you. Friends dead, family butchered! For their deaths, you and every
one of your Shadow Warriors that was present there that day will pay and pay
and pay!"
Moving over to the night stand, he picked up the vial he had placed there earlier.
Breaking the wax seal, he was careful not to spill any of the liquid onto his skin.
Reaching into his pouch, he carefully extracted a needle and dipped the point in,
wetting half its length. "Remember what I said about the fast-acting and the
slow-acting poisons? Care to take a guess as to which kind this is? I am sorry
to say that this is the slow-acting type. But don't worry, it is also the most
deadly poison that I have ever seen. But, before you get pricked with the
needle, I want you to experience something, something that I had the
displeasure of experiencing years ago."
With that, he turned to the forgotten wife and lightly cut her across her exposed
belly. Not deep enough to kill, but it would sting as it healed. If, that was, there
wasn't a very fast-acting poison on the blade. The woman began flailing about,
thrashing back and forth for about ten seconds before her breathing slowed, then
after two more rasping breaths, she stopped.
Turning back to her husband, the intruder said, with a smile on his lips and a fire
in his eyes, "I'll have to work on that...it wasn't as fast as I was lead to believe."
He then leaned in close and whispered in the man's ear, "I also want you to
know something else - the name of the man about to kill you. The name
is Qaalinos the Fox." With the last word out of his mouth, Qaalinos plunged the
needle into the mans arm and then stepped back to watch. Within moments,
the man was struggling for breath as his throat slowly began to close in on itself.
As the poison slowly worked its way through the mans system, it caused
blood vessels to burst in his eyes, blinding him. The poison continued to work
at destroying the man for another half-hour, eventually putting him in a coma,
then causing a massive brain embolism that probably would have been painful, if
the man had been at a point of caring about pain any more. With another smile
on his lips, Qaalinos said, "Huh? I guess I'll have to work on that one, too. It
wasn't nearly as slow and painful as I was told."
Leaving through the door, Qaalinos made sure the girl was still restrained.
Seeing that she was, he went to the exit and listened, hoping that his earlier
handiwork had not yet been discovered. Knowing he would likely be dead now
if it had, he took a moment listening to the sounds of silence. He then left, as
unnoticed as he had arrived.
At daybreak on the same day, at the docks, a young woman approached a
large sailing vessel and was greeted by the captain of the ship, "Lady Talanthia! I
am so happy to see you again. I have your room ready, as you instructed
when you booked passage yesterday. Right this way. Oh, the trip should go
smoothly, as the winds are blowing right for a quick journey."
Appearance
Qaalinos stands 5' 1" tall and weighs just 105 pounds. With his long copper
colored hair, which hangs to the middle of his back and is held in a braid,
looking a lot like a tail, and his dark green eyes, it is easy to see how he got his
nickname, The Fox. He wears a dark green hooded cloak over a set of dark
brown breeches and tunic. He wears all of this over his suit of leather armor.
He wears a short sword on his left hip, rigged so that it rides hilt-high, for an
easy draw with either hand. The chains holding the scabbard has cloth woven
through the links to prevent them from making any telltale noises. On his left
hip rests a dagger in its scabbard, and if one were to look closely, they may
notice a second dagger hilt poking out of the top of his right boot.
If he were to
be extensively searched, 4 more daggers would be found in various spots, all
rigged in such a way to be drawn with a minimum of difficulty. One is strapped
to the calf of his left leg, hilt down, to be drawn by reaching up through the leg of
his breeches. Another is strapped to the forearm of his left arm, hilt aiming
toward the hand. And the last two are strapped to his back, over his armor and
under his clothing, hilts aimed down. These two are easily reached by bringing
his hands up and reaching under his tunic. With a flip of the thumb to loosen a
leather strap, they will then almost fall out into his hands. His final weapon is a
short bow which he keeps slung over his left shoulder, the arrows for which are
kept in a quiver which is belted on diagonally across his back, the top visible
over his left shoulder. Dangling from his belt are three small pouches, all of
which appear to contain something. And he wears a backpack which contains
all of his worldly possessions.
Background
Qaalinos the Fox was born and raised in the mountains of Nerous-
Taan, just to the east of Torresan. He was always interested in working with his
hands, and when a friend of his oldest brother came home from adventuring
abroad, telling tales of thievery and the like, Qaalinos was intrigued. The friend,
Kronothos, taught him the art of picking locks and finding traps. He was coming
along fairly well in his studies when his village was attacked. Qaalinos was
roaming the hills, pretending to be a great adventurer, when he heard the sounds
of a battle being fought.
Running back to the village, he found his people in an awful battle against people
who looked strange to him. They were human, he could tell, but they had an
appearance that was unfamiliar to him. And they were covered with strange
markings that looked like paintings. Not knowing what tattoos were, never
having seen one, that was the only way he could describe them. He watched
from the cover of the edge of the trees as his people were cut down like grass.
The soldiers didn't stop with defeating the warriors of his village, but destroyed
every living person they found. He looked on in horror as he watched as his
mother and two younger sisters were dragged out of hiding and butchered, their
throats cut. One of the men spoke soothing words to quiet his youngest sister,
then, smiling, he cut her throat from ear to ear.
Holding back the rage he felt grow inside, he silently swore revenge on all the
people and memorized all of their faces, etching them into his mind. When the
men were done with the slaughter and left, he made his way down to the village,
noticing only then that there were others coming down out of the hills. For the
next week, they buried the dead, honoring them in the only way left to them.
While gathering the bodies together, Qaalinos found the body of his father,
minus his hands and head. He only recognized it by certain scars on the torso.
Searching for some object of his fathers, he soon found his two short swords,
both of which were found when his father was very young, still adventuring and
making a name for himself. Picking them up, he claimed them for his own, by
right of inheritance. With these weapons, he intends to fulfill his oath.
After leaving his homeland, he has traveled across much of Western Glashia,
looking to gain in ability for the day when he goes after the people responsible
for the death of his family. He has taken to life as a thief with a passion. He
travels around, from city to city, stealing from the cream of society (makes more
sense than stealing from the poor, the poor have nothing worth stealing) and
then moving on. The items he steals today are sold in another city, so as to not
draw too much attention to himself. He has been financing his moves around
the countryside for several years. He has made a bit of a name for himself
nonetheless, however, but no one has ever been able to identify him. His skill
at disguise is legendary. No one knows that he is a male, or that Qaalinos is, in
fact, his given name. He is small enough to pass for a female, human or
Pseithen. With just a bit of dye, he is able to go from blonde to dark hair in
just a short period of time.
So, for the past 45 years he has traveled across the country, stealing as he
went. Every so often, he books passage across The Sea of Heredia to the city
of Sahmbarrah, to hunt down those responsible for killing his family and people.
He spends time there, getting to know his prey's habits and haunts, then late
one evening, he uses the skills he had learned over those many years, and then,
when he finds the men, he kills. Letting the rage completely wash over him, he
rarely remembers what has happened after the fact. He merely kills the killers,
letting the cleansing power of the blood wash over him.
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