FALWOOD - RUINS
It was not often that outsiders made their business in Falwood.
As the home of most elves, the sprawling forest region had quite the reputation. Some spoke of men succumbing to madness. Other tales whispered of disappearing without a trace. In each of these stories, there was one common thread: malicious intentions were almost always met in kind. For Ishmael Al-Zahhak, these stories were enough to keep the man far from the forest's borders. For one, the nature of his business was such that creating enemies was commonplace. For another, he much preferred navigating the desert. He was used to the sands, used to the routes - woods were another animal entirely.
Yet, this day, the nature of his business would see him set aside his preferences. All due to the actions of one elf.
In the world of selling violence for coin, he was known as a butcher. His rates were literally excessive due to how successful his missions were. If one wanted a king slain, for example, this was the elf who would make it happen. For many years, he made a name for himself by doing good, quality work. Recent years, however, had seen a...concerning series of changes. Missions which called for discretion were being completed loudly. And while casualties were a reality of mercenary work, he was leaving graveyards in his wake.
Moreover, where once he worked alone, he now gathered a brutal gallery of accomplices. Together, they were quickly becoming a scourge in the mercenary world. In fact, they had even turned upon contractors - murdering them in cold blood after a job was finished. And while the actions of a single vile organization would never cease the mercenary trade, Ishmael noticed the hesitancy of clients. They were worried about their own safety. Worried about the outcome of missions. Worried if hiring his company would have the same results as the elf's.
To put it simply, this elf was bad for business. So much so that his regular clients were ready to reward anyone who'd put an end to his habits. That was all the motivvation Ishmael needed to ride.
Thus, the quiet of the Falwood's borders was interrupted by the sound of horses. Ishmael led a squad of five men into the elven homeland, intent on sniffing out their mark. In an ideal world, they could speak as men and reach an amiciable conclusion to the brutality. But Ishmael lived in reality - he knew knocking at the man's front door would only end in violence. To prepare for this, his four fellows were among the best of his company. Now, it was fortunate that the elf rather publicized his locale. After all, clients were welcome to visit his base of operations to discuss potential contracts.
His home was a series of ruins. At a glance, they seemed to be temples of a sort that were abandoned eons ago. Every stone was cracked and covered in moss. Animals of every sort roamed free and nested within the buildings. The elf had claimed the largest structure - a pyramid - for himself. Yet, he seemingly made no efforts to restore the temple to its former glory. The only evidence Ishmael could make out of his presence were the horses which tarried by the base of the pyramid.
Slowing his own steed, turned to his fellows. "Be on your guard. Izak, watch for any magic. Barbatos, watch our rear. Gael, you're on horses. Ruben, with me."
With his orders given, Ishmael dismounted and approached the temple stairs. The elf had made quite the impression on the mercenary world - but that story ended today.[/size]
As the home of most elves, the sprawling forest region had quite the reputation. Some spoke of men succumbing to madness. Other tales whispered of disappearing without a trace. In each of these stories, there was one common thread: malicious intentions were almost always met in kind. For Ishmael Al-Zahhak, these stories were enough to keep the man far from the forest's borders. For one, the nature of his business was such that creating enemies was commonplace. For another, he much preferred navigating the desert. He was used to the sands, used to the routes - woods were another animal entirely.
Yet, this day, the nature of his business would see him set aside his preferences. All due to the actions of one elf.
In the world of selling violence for coin, he was known as a butcher. His rates were literally excessive due to how successful his missions were. If one wanted a king slain, for example, this was the elf who would make it happen. For many years, he made a name for himself by doing good, quality work. Recent years, however, had seen a...concerning series of changes. Missions which called for discretion were being completed loudly. And while casualties were a reality of mercenary work, he was leaving graveyards in his wake.
Moreover, where once he worked alone, he now gathered a brutal gallery of accomplices. Together, they were quickly becoming a scourge in the mercenary world. In fact, they had even turned upon contractors - murdering them in cold blood after a job was finished. And while the actions of a single vile organization would never cease the mercenary trade, Ishmael noticed the hesitancy of clients. They were worried about their own safety. Worried about the outcome of missions. Worried if hiring his company would have the same results as the elf's.
To put it simply, this elf was bad for business. So much so that his regular clients were ready to reward anyone who'd put an end to his habits. That was all the motivvation Ishmael needed to ride.
Thus, the quiet of the Falwood's borders was interrupted by the sound of horses. Ishmael led a squad of five men into the elven homeland, intent on sniffing out their mark. In an ideal world, they could speak as men and reach an amiciable conclusion to the brutality. But Ishmael lived in reality - he knew knocking at the man's front door would only end in violence. To prepare for this, his four fellows were among the best of his company. Now, it was fortunate that the elf rather publicized his locale. After all, clients were welcome to visit his base of operations to discuss potential contracts.
His home was a series of ruins. At a glance, they seemed to be temples of a sort that were abandoned eons ago. Every stone was cracked and covered in moss. Animals of every sort roamed free and nested within the buildings. The elf had claimed the largest structure - a pyramid - for himself. Yet, he seemingly made no efforts to restore the temple to its former glory. The only evidence Ishmael could make out of his presence were the horses which tarried by the base of the pyramid.
Slowing his own steed, turned to his fellows. "Be on your guard. Izak, watch for any magic. Barbatos, watch our rear. Gael, you're on horses. Ruben, with me."
With his orders given, Ishmael dismounted and approached the temple stairs. The elf had made quite the impression on the mercenary world - but that story ended today.[/size]
