Chapter One: A Long-Awaited Party
Three years. For three years, Khetrik had been on the run.
Of course, for him, it never felt like he was running away from his past. No,
Khetrik was forever running towards his next great discovery. However, for a
Delver, running towards something new often leads to slamming face first into
the past.
Stumbling into the unexpected is how Khetrik came upon his
chosen profession. He was orphaned at a very young age, and made his way by
wandering the streets of the mystical Trade City of Jolithria. Living as an
urchin on the streets of a magical city was fraught with danger, but Khetrik
somehow survived relatively unscathed. Until some of the noble children found
him while playing in alleys of the Green Bazaar.
Khetrik, barely six years old, was beset upon by two
well-dressed teenage boys, when a strange elderly man in black robes, and a
tall conical hat came upon the scene. This small olive skinned ragamuffin was
being trampled by obviously physically stronger young lads, and the old man
without hesitation intervened. With a flick of his wrist, the air around the
boys cracked and their bodies began to contort hideously until they no longer
resembled children, but instead a large pig and a lamb.
The elderly wizard extended his walking stick to prod the
broken and bleeding form of the small unusual looking child.
“Are you still alive, boy?”
Khetrik could barely manage to nod his head as he felt the
cooling relief of the wet cobblestone pressed against his bruised ribs.
“Well then, get up and get moving. Is that any way to show
your appreciation for my valiant rescue?”
Khetrik winced as he forced himself to his feet.
“That’s better, boy. Follow me.”
“What about them?” Khetrik asked
“They got what they deserved! Don’t waste time worrying
about the fates of lesser men.”
With that, the old man led Khetrik away and into the
Dragon’s Cauldron, his magical curio shop and bookstore. Khetrik would later
learn that the ancient wizard was called Veltayne, and that the old man’s kind
rescue was less than altruistic in nature. Veltayne was getting on in years,
and needed someone smaller and nimbler to help him explore dark places to find
the treasures he could sell in his shop. Although, as Veltayne’s ward, Khetrik
grew up as little more than slave labor, the arrangement proved mutually
beneficial as Khetrik learned how to become one of the most skilled dungeoneers
in Bhakaras.
So it was, that when Khetrik was forced to flee his home due
to false accusations of murder, theft and destruction of property, he had his
skills a professional explorer of places dark and creepy to fall back on. All
in all, the situation worked out very well for Khetrik, despite his being a
wanted fugitive. Khetrik had quickly fallen in with a guild of archeologists,
historians, treasure-seekers, and tomb raiders called The Delvers. They were an
honorable, if rowdy, lot who explore the places where others fear to delve for
profit and glory, but most importantly to rediscovering the long lost histories
of Bhakaras, and Khetrik had developed a reputation for being the most fearless
of his kind.
It was his fearless pursuit of knowledge, treasure and fun,
which had resulted in the revelry that was now occurring around Khetrik. The
oaken walls of the Delver’s lodge were packed full of party goers. The main
hall was designed to comfortably seat a couple hundred folk, but was currently
filled with nearly three times that number. The rhythmic stomps of a drunken
crowd augmented the percussive beats of the Brownnotes, a Bard College band
made up of many up exclusively of members of the order who made an art of
turning tales of various expeditions into inspiring songs.
While all the people
around him where there to celebrate his triumphant return from the caves of Pax
Surpennoria, Khetrik found himself focused on the two people closest to him. Seated in the Elk-horn Throne of Champions, Khetrik was
positioned roughly in the center of the hall, and at each arm was found a
beautiful creature doting on the hero.
To his left was a slightly rotund and adorable young woman with
curly auburn hair, a sunkissed complexion, and vibrant blue eyes. Sophie was a member
of the delvers, but she wasn’t part of the expeditionary crews. Sophie instead spent
her days organizing and cataloguing the vast libraries of the Delvers, as a
Keeper of Knowledge. Sophie in particular has a unique skill of recall and is
widely believed to have the entire library memorized. While Khetrik valued his
friend’s mind greatly, tonight he was admiring her other features.
“Khetrik, I’m always so happy when you make it back to us
after a long expedition…”
Sophie, bless her soul, wasn’t very subtle or clever with
her innuendo, but what she lacked in flirtatious linguistics she made up for
with genuine joy, enthusiasm and humor. Khetrik couldn’t help but grab onto her
ample hind and draw her into his lap as he continued the banter.
“Sophie, my dear, the length of one’s expedition is
irrelevant, it’s all about the treasure to be found in the end!”
“Always the poet, Khetrik. You certainly know how to make a
lad jealous!”
Lyrian on the other hand, was usually quite a clever flirt.
He was beautiful to behold, with golden hair cropped short and styled with
scented oils that gave his hair the illusion of his head being wrapped in
golden flames. His skin was smooth, and fair, with glittering hazel eyes that
seemed to stare right through you. When we met, he and I bonded over the fact
that we shared symmetrical faces, and ears that although not as pronounced as
an elf, were still pointed in a way that evoked those aetherial beings. As
usual, Lyrian planted himself upon Khetrik’s lap, and smiled.
“Shall I sing you a love song about a unicorn, this evening,
Khetrik?”
Lyrian moved closer so their noses were practically
touching.
“As you both know, unicorns are my favorite creatures of
legend!” Khetrik then boldly kissed Lyrian, followed quickly by an equally bold
kiss for Sophie. The trio laughed and curled up in Khetrik’s strong arms. Khetrik, at
first glance, would appear to be slim and lithe, but he was actually very well
built, with a small rounded belly, and a strength that seemed unlikely for
his size.
With relative ease, Khetrik was easily carrying around both of his friends.
“Khetrik, be careful not to drop me, my adoring fans would
be beside themselves if I couldn’t perform tonight!”
“Especially Sophie and I!” Khetrik winked.
Where Sophie was a keeper of written lore, Lyrian was a
walking collection of songs, and stories from around the world. A bard by
trade, Lyrian got his start with the Brownnotes, and although he had years ago
left them to enjoy his solo pursuits, tonight was a special occasion and he
would sing with his bandmates again. Lyrian spent most of his days traveling
the world using his skills and connections to learn of secrets that the Delvers
would use to plan their expeditions to dangerous forgotten tombs, dungeons and
other lost places. Khetrik was typically a loner on expeditions, but when he
returned home to his friends, alone was the last thing he wanted to be.
Khetrik’s most recent expedition was to the ancient dwarven
city of Pax Surpennoria. Many years before, the city had fallen during a civil
war that erupted between the factions of Dragonkind that lived beneath the cave
city. The dwarves had been forced to flee their home and had long thought that
their heirlooms were lost forever. However, Khetrik was able to recover an
in-tact tablet that traced the ancestry of the great dwarf king, Ghalar. Of
course, Khetrik also brought back some valuable magical artifacts and precious
stones, but to him the greatest prize was the recovery of a small piece of
history thought to be lost forever. Khetrik didn’t expect to have much of a
legacy, but if he could help restore some of the past people had lost, it would
be enough for him.
Speaking of the past, Khetrik never really explained to his
friends in the guild why he had left his home and run head first into danger.
The wonderful thing about his friends was that even if the past were to be revealed, they
would be more concerned about the here and now and the fleeting and beautiful
time they have together between adventures. Unfortunately for Khetrik, one
cannot avoid their own past forever, and his friends were about to discover
something that would disrupt their fun together for some time.
Khetrik didn’t immediately register the man who walked into the
hall dressed in a long, black duster, and leathers. The lodge was build of
Steelwood from the forests of Hylar, and all the furnishings inside were
constructed of similar material, adorned with the pelts, trophies and leather
of a wide variety of game from across Bhakaras. The reason the lodge was so
full is because of the Delvers open door policy allowing local riff-raff to
join visit the lodge for drinks and food as long as no one violated the rules
of the Delvers, and end of expedition parties tended to attract a lot of
‘first-timers’.
As such, it wasn’t unusual for a strange man to enter the
lodge. However, unlike the other revelers, he was carrying a scroll with a
picture and appeared to be asking very pointed questions of the less-than-helpful
inebriated party goers.
“What is that man doing, Khetrik?” Sophie asked.
“Besides ruining the aesthetic?” Lyrian jabbed.
Khetrik remained quiet as he focused in on the man, and the
scroll in his hand which bore an image of his own face curved into a leering
grimace. Involuntarily, his face was now making the same shape as he realized
was happening. Nox had found him at last.
Inquisitor Nox was an up and coming investigator in the Jolithrian Inquest when Veltayne had been found murdered in his shop, with the contents stolen or destroyed. Since that time, he had relentlessly pursued Khetrik across Bhakaras. Of course, Nox was good at his job, and as such, he and Khetrik had a few close calls over the years.
In the city-state of Galiria, Nox had managed to track
Khetrik down during an expedition to the long buried Oubliette Roux. His
attempt to capture Khetrik using a Decanter of Endless Water caused a massive
flood that nearly drowned them all. Thankfully, Khetrik was able to conjure a
quick spell to allow him to breathe underwater and escape.
Most recently, Nox had blown up a charter ship to
Surpennoria in an effort to prevent Khetrik from escaping his grasp. Little did
he know, Khetrik had befriended a Lightning Drake, and was already en route via
the air. Every time the inquisitor got close, Khetrik was one step ahead.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t so lucky this time.
Nox’s pale blue locked eyes with Khetrik’s verdant orbs and
leaped through the air towards his target.
“Khetrik! You are under arrest by the authority of the
Jolithrian Inquisition! If you resist in any way, I’m permitted to terminate
your life!”
Khetrik’s first concern was that Lyrian and Sophie avoid
getting caught in the crossfire. With very little finesse, Khetrik let them go,
which resulted in both of them hitting the floor at his sides. He then tried to
spring to his feet to dodge the incoming blow, but Nox was too quick and his
studded leather boots collided with Khetrik’s chest causing the gazelle skinned
chaise beneath them to shatter.
The wind was knocked out of Khetrik’s sails, but he was
quick to recover. With a snap of his fingers the air crackled and hummed, and
Khetrik was suddenly gone in a puff of azure mist. From a balcony above the
lounge, Khetrik’s playful voice could be heard.
“Why are you so obsessed with me, Nox?”
“You know why, Twoworlds!”
Khetrik noticed that Sophie was ready to pounce on the
unsuspecting inquisitor, so he gave a quick signal to Lyrian to pull her away
as he continued to taunt the inquisitor.
“I told you, Nox. I
appreciate your interest, but you’re just not my type! You’ve got to stop this ridiculous
chase around the world! No, means no!”
If there was one thing Khetrik knew would get under Nox’s skin, it was a little playful innuendo. Nox was nothing if not a prude. The change in the color of Nox’s cheeks from a light pink to bright red made it clear that Khetrik was having the desired effect. Nox was entirely focused on Khetrik, he’d need to ensure that Nox stayed right where he was to avoid causing any collateral damage. Khetrik summoned a bolt of lightning from his outstretched palm, using the dazzling display to distract as he once again teleported away from his perch.
Unfortunately, Nox was prepared for this particular trick of
Khetrik’s and allowed the blast to strike him directly, almost catching the
bolt with his outstretched hand. Instead of blasting him off his feet, the
energy seemed to cascade around him before being absorbed into the glowing
runes on his silver bracelet. Nox then spun around and brought his fist
perfectly into the space where Khetrik was rematerializing behind the
inquisitor. His fist connected squarely with Khetrik’s forehead and the energy
stored coursed through his knuckles stunning the unsuspecting rogue.
Khetrik dropped to his knees, and groggily shook his head for a moment that felt like eternity, and then, glassy-eyed, looked up at Nox. Khetrik was definitely not in a position to provoke Nox any further, but then again, he also wasn’t one to always make good choices.
“You know, Nox, if you really wanted me to get on my knees
for you, all you had to do was ask!”
Khetrik grinned, obviously pleased with himself, as Nox’s now crimson face flushed and he pulled back and landed a punch on Khetrik’s unprotected jaw. Khetrik could taste iron, and he knew he’d be unconscious in a moment, but he was never one to let that stop him from getting the last word.
“You made one big mistake, Nox,” Khetrik spat some of the
greenish purple blood pooling in his mouth onto the hardwood floor, “you came
after me in my home, and you seem to have forgotten… the Delver’s have rules!”
Nox’s triumphant smirk immediately fell from his face as the
realization dawned on him that he really had made a mistake. The guildhall of
the Delvers was considered a sanctuary and he had violated that by attacking
Khetrik in his zeal. Without making any sudden movements, Nox turned to follow
Khetrik’s gaze at the figure looming behind him. The guildmaster of the
Delvers, Galen van Straud, was staring him down, clad in ornate red and gold
robes and brandishing a wand which he used to punctuate his words.
“Inquisitor Nox of Jolithria, you have violated the sanctity
of the Delver’s Lodge and attacked one of our members without provocation. The
penalty for this is a severe ass-whooping, followed by your summary ejection
from the premises!”
Galen didn’t wait for Nox to offer a protest to defend himself,
all the poor inquisitor managed to get out was a single word...
“SHIT!”
With a flick of Galen’s wrist a wave of myriad colors of
energy flew towards the unprepared lawman, striking him square in the chest,
and both Khetrik and Nox hit the ground with an undignified thud.
