A Night at the Broken Sword Inn...well off the beaten track.
(Submitted by Morngrym)


     Neverwinter...a fair city with more going on behind the scenes than many
would care to admit.  A city of mystery and intrigue, deals, and sometimes
treachery.  But these things were far from the minds of most patrons at the
Broken Sword Inn that evening.  The crowd was cheerful and the ale was
flowing freely.  A bard sat by the large fireplace, surrounded by interested
listeners.  Shadows danced on the walls with the flicker of the flames.  The
bard spun grand tales of brave heroes and fantastic creatures -- Things most
of the common people had never seen.  Geran, the friendly barkeep, and owner
of the establishment served his special brews to many eager drinkers.  The
serving maids darted about the room serving drinks, food, and engaging in
sometimes scandalous conversation.

     A large man sitting at the bar rose and walked to the center of the
room.  He was huge, standing almost seven feet tall, with a thick, muscled
build.  His legs looked like the trunks of blackthorn trees.  Scars lined his
exposed face and arms.  He was obviously the veteran of many battles.  "Here
ye all", he bellowed.  A hush quickly fell over the tavern.  "I challenge any
and all here to a test of strength...to a fight!  Who is man enough?"  The
place was dead silent.  "Sit your drunken, fool self down, Daratac!", yelled
Geran.  "Watch ye tongue, old man, if ye would keep it", laughed the
intoxicated giant in return.

    "You!" Daratac boomed, pointing to a man at the end of the bar.  The man
ran from the tavern.  "Lets make this more interesting", Daratac yelled,
"Lets make it real!".  His eyes were glazed as he removed his fake peace-knot
and drew a huge broadsword from his scabbard.  He had the look of a madman.
"There will be no blood spilled here!  Out with you!" Geran frantically
screamed.  Daratac threw a mug at the man, who ducked behind the bar.  "Keep
yerself quiet, Geran or it'll be you", he angrily replied.

     "Are ye all cowards?!" the giant roared.  Another man fled the bar as
Daratac's gaze fell upon him.  "Ah, the dark one..." Daratac said, with a
fiendish smile, looking across the room to a cloaked man sitting in a corner
booth.  He sat alone at the table with a small glass before him.  He didn't
move, or react to the comment in any way.  "Are ye deaf to, coward?!" Daratac
roared, charging across the room and smashing the man's table with the hilt
of his sword.  Daratac took several steps back as the man slowly stood and
walked toward him, stopping only a few feet away.  He stood about six feet
tall with a small, but muscular build.  The dark figure slowly pulled back
his hood to reveal his face.  Whispers erupted among the patrons and Daratac
visibly paled.  The man had very white skin and long, night-black hair.
There was more to his appearance, though.  He had the mark of a black dagger
covering his face, in stark contrast to his skin.  The hilt started at the
top of his forehead, coming down to stream out around his eyes.  The blade
began here, at his nose, and continued down across his lips into a point at
his chin.  

He spoke in a strange, controlled tone.  "To you I am only death...Tremble,
for tonight is your last", he said as an ebony bladed, jeweled dagger
appeared in his hand.  He had an air of power about him.  No one in the room
doubted the boast.  Daratac steadied himself, then attacked in a sweeping arc
with his sword.

The dark one dogged and quickly bolted to one side, slashing a large gash
under the giant's ribs.  Daratac howled in pain.  The patrons watched in
fearful awe--Never had they seen a man move so fast.  Daratac had been in
many battles, though and kept his wits, in spite of the pain.

     The giant took several quick swipes at the agile man, but never made
contact.  It seemed almost as if the stranger was toying with him, feinting
and parrying, but not pressing an attack.  After several moments of this
Daratac was gasping for breath.  The dark figure waded in, inflicting several
cuts on Daratac's arms and hands as the large man tried to parry.  A moment
later Daratac's  face was bleeding from several small slash wounds.  A quick
spin-kick sent him crashing through several tables and finally to the floor.

The man waited; Intentionally giving Daratac time to recover.  The giant man
charged, attacking with a powerful swing of his sword.  The dark one jumped
into the air and onto the bar, the blade passing just under his feet.  A
second later he launched a swift kick into the big man's face, shattering his
nose.  Daratac took several steps back, blinded with blood...it was
everywhere.  The stranger crouched upon the top of the bar and again waited.
A moment later Daratac advanced toward the bar again...and the waiting bird
of prey pirched there.  Three steps from the bar the giant was stopped, cold,
the jeweled dagger burried in his throat.  He fell to the floor into a pool
of blood, a ghostly look on his face.  The dark one calmly retrieved the
dagger, cleaned it on the dead man's shirt and walked from the bar without a
word.                   

..............................   
He who lives by the sword, dies by the sword...beware, those who would travel
the lands of Neverwinter.  Danger lurks even where you least expect it...



By Morngrym Verigost
     Knight-Commander
     Bard of KORT!