Tylum the Terrible in Beyond the Sanctum Forum

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Tylum the Terrible

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Kanolth	Tylum the Terrible	Lead	[-]
Posts: 1921 (10/05/09 12:48 AM) Sigil of the Outcast Blade Order of the Wayfarers GSW Emeritus Reply Quote More My Recent Posts	Tags : None Two forms chase each other through dark alleys. A wall is encountered and first the leader, and then the pursuer effortlessly flips over it without so much as a sound. The chase leads into busy streets, as the two cloaked forms run frantically through the crowd as if running through air. Their steps are practiced and graceful. Their breathing is non-existent. The first runner makes it to a tavern on the corner of the road. He springs up and clutches onto the drain pipe, scaling the side of the building like a gecko. The pursuer mimics the movement with perfect grace and scales up after him. On the rooftop the two run from edge to edge. They leap to clutch on high ledges, and hoist themselves up effortlessly. They scale up ladders, and slide down poles. They zip across laundry lines. They run along gang planks. The pursuer does not relent, as he leaps after his prey across the alleys below. The beggars and commoners look up in awe as the two forms fly over them like angels of death and chaos. Then comes the big jump across a street. The leader jumps with all his strength and makes it to the adjacent roof, but he twists his ankle in the fall and he almost keels over in pain when he rolls to his feet. Desperately he pulls his blades from the folds of his cloak. The pursuer, smaller than he, lighter on his feet and faster of foot makes the jump easily. He lands and immediately goes to ground, rolling across his shoulders, onto his back and then onto his feet, with his blades already drawn. The cowl of the pursuers cloak is flung back, revealing the face of the boy that would be king. Tylum the Tyrant. Tylum the Butcher. Tylum the Outcast. Steel rings on steel as the two combatants clash. Their blades dance in a blinding fury as rain begins to pelt down on the combatants. "Your days terrorizing my streets are over dog," yells the boy as he comes face to face with his latest victim. "You might not know this about me since I am a hero and all, but I take great delight in killing you. I relish in the smell of the blood of the guilty; Of murderers and defilers of women." "You won't get me that easily, BOY!" the injured prey squeals. "I will not go down without taking you with me!" "Pfft," Tylum spits, as he comes around full circle, and in an impossible move slices across his enemy's wrists. Blood spurts everywhere, with a stream of it splashing across the boy thief's face. Tylum's face twists into a sardonic grin as his prey falls to its knees and begins to grovel. "Please my lord! Please spare me. I shall do what you want! I shall relinquish my holdings to you. I shall give you all the gold that I have. But please don't kill me. I have a fam...." The man's cries for mercy are cut short by the wicked steel of Tylum the Terrible. "Like I care." * * * "Aw you shouldn't have," Tylum cries as he is greeted by throngs of people who applaud him for his latest kill. Ridol stands just before him, his arms outstretched to embrace his apprentice. Oh wait! He is not his apprentice anymore. No this time, the student has surpassed the teacher. This boy prodigy. This specimen of excellence! Oh are those the Sigils in the background? Starlene the High Sigil smiles his way and in her hand he sees a pendant? Tylum's heart jumps. Is it a Sigil? "You are brave and noble," she smiles. "You are the kind of sigil we require among our ranks. You do not need to present for candidacy. You're pretty much family!" She leans in and kisses him on the forehead and Tylum's heart jumps. "What will your sigil be?" "Outcast Blade," Kanolth calls out jovially, "is taken I'm afraid. But I know you will find an even better sigil for yourself. Oh by the way, someone wants to apologize to you." He clears his throat and with a stern expression he nods to the side. There stands Keats Lovesonnet, a shell of his former self. The sullen man is hunched over like an old, tired bag of bones. His glossy eyes are rimmed with tears of embarrassment, the emotion within them one of a man who is pleading forgiveness. "Ty- Tylum...." Keats whispers, as he desperately clutches onto Tylum's sleeve. Tylum angrily shakes him off and the bard takes a few steps back, but his expression never changes. "I have been so upset with myself since that day.... I cannot live with myself.... Please Tylum.... Please forgive the lesser man. I cannot sleep. I cannot eat. I feel so bad for what I did. I only wish that you will find it in your heart to forgive me of that terrible, terrible incident." Tylum clears his throat as he places his hand on Keats head, his fingers grasping the bard's hair and then releasing slowly. "You.... are forgiven." "Oh Thank you. THANK YOU!" Keats exclaims as his eyes fill with tears. Color returns to his face, and his posture straightens as if the man is revitalized by the energy of the master rogue in front of him. "This calls for a toast, for a great and terrible burden has been lifted from my tired soul. I can now live again!" "See," Kan says with a grin. "All is well between a master bard and his.... former apprentice. I am so proud of you Tylum. Now about us working together..." "As am I," yells Beldhyr, as he forces his way in between the two rogues. Ignoring Kanolth he takes Tylum off to the side. "You will be welcome on my Adventure Sundays young man. But you will be given mighty tasks to perform that only the few can do while...." Beldhyr glances over at Kanolth and then back at Tylum as he winks, "others can not." "And I would be honoured if you are by my side when we slay the Leviathan once... and... for all!" Matthyas cries. "I shall suffer no lesser rogue than Kanolth, which makes you perfect my young, talented friend. You have done well Ridol. Tylum is the hero he was born to be." "It was nothing," Ridol grins. "He's a natural. He has become a much better adventurer than I could ever hope to be." "Oh Tylum," Miroh squeals. "Oh I love how you saved me from that brute. I want you so much...." "Not a chance," Tylum scoffs. "My heart is for someone more worthy of my time...." He looks around for Thalisa, but.... she is nowhere to be found. Why? "But she is not here," Miroh coos. "I had hoped you would do me the honor of a dance at least. I know we got off to a bad start, but I see you for the man you are. You are a man who is strong and can protect the woman he loves. And I find that to be most.... most...." Tylum nods, takes Miroh the Bully by the hand, and leads the woman to the dance floor. "One dance then." As they move gracefully about the floor, those in attendance look on. Kan raises an eyebrow and offers a supporting smirk. A smirk that Tylum rarely ever sees on the face of the steeley rogue. Is it respect? Is it reverence? Everyone stops their own dance and looks on at the couple as they spin slowly across the room. Miroh stares intently into the eyes of her savior. A wry smile comes across her lips, but Tylum feels awkward and looks away, looking for the beautiful face of the girl he left behind at the Sanctum. This is his party.... Why is she not here? He looks back at Miroh. Her face moves in for a kiss.... "WAKE UP!" she suddenly screams, shaking him. * * * "Tylum... Wake up!" he hears a voice call for him somewhere.... He then feels cold.... wet.... miserable.... His ears are filled with thunder and the pelting of rain. "Tylum! Wake up lad! It's time." He lays in a ditch on a side of the road. He remembers where he is know.... On a road in the Western Commons. The Combine Spires loom over him, providing mild shelter from the biting wind of the relentless storm. To his right is Ridol who is shaking him awake. In the distance, through the rain, he sees the lights of an approaching caravan that makes its way from Highpass Hold to Freeport through the Commonlands where Tylum now lies in wait with his master. Ridol pats his exhausted and miserable apprentice on the back. "Alright.... time to work. Don't let me down." Last Edited By: Kanolth 10/05/09 8:45 PM. Edited 1 time.
Tylum		#1	[-]
Posts: 229 (10/14/09 8:53 PM) Ridol's Apprentice Reply Quote More My Recent Posts	The caravan approaches, and Tylum huddles down under a tree by the roadside. The outriders eye him curiously, but they certainly see no need to stop. They pass on by as he keeps his head down. As the first of the wagons creak by, Tylum raises his head off his knees and scans the faces of the drivers. The first one-an older human man, in his forties or fifties perhaps, wrapped up against the chill and the damp. He keeps his eyes straight ahead on the backs of the riders a few dozen yards in front of him. The second wagon, however…a younger man at the reins, bundled like the first. Behind and beside him, half under the cover of the wagon, a young woman-a wife or sister? A quick glance back at the handful of other wagons shows no better opportunity than this, and Tylum gets hurriedly and markedly clumsily to his feet, slipping a bit in the mud and throwing out his arms to keep his balance. The jerky motions get the attention of the second driver, and Tylum's night spent in the wind and rain softens the man's wary expression slightly. Tylum looks up at the driver through strings of hair hanging partly into his eyes and squints a bit. What do you want? The driver's tone is brusque, but forcedly so, and he cannot keep his gaze on the wagonback before him; his attention returns every few seconds to the bedraggled elf. The woman disappears into the wagon. Tylum falls in step beside him. Sir, I was heading to Freeport to catch the boat back to Faydwer an' I got caught out here when the storm broke. I dug in for some shelter for the worst of it, but I thought it'd be over by now, an' my boat leaves tomorrow. If you're headed that way, think I could just ride with you? I got my own food. Tylum raises his knapsack in evidence, his gaze hopeful. The caravan driver's face passes through expressions of suspicion, boredom, and then a touch of pity mixed with approval as the skinny kid assures him that he will not need to be fed. The man gives him another once-over and finally gives a jerk of his head, inviting Tylum to clamber up onto the moving wagon. The young Feir'dal does so quickly, his foot slipping on the wet wood and his eyes going wide before he hauls himself up onto the seat. He makes no move to get under the wagon's cover, instead smiling with a child's gratitude to the driver and wrapping his thin cloak tightly around himself.
Kanolth		#2	[-]
Posts: 1953 (10/20/09 3:38 PM) Sigil of the Outcast Blade Order of the Wayfarers GSW Emeritus Reply Quote More My Recent Posts	The driver lashes the reigns then, and the wagon lurches forward and continues its slow roll through the stormy countryside. The wagon driver hums to himself as he assesses the sky and curses under his breath at the state of it. He turns his head to look upon the bedraggled elf boy who had somehow found himself in the middle of orc country with naught but the clothes on his back and the food in his pack. He shakes his head at the boy's apparent stupidity. Another runaway it looked like. He shakes his head as he pulls a small brown bottle from a compartment on his left. He unfastens the cork and takes a swig. "Ya know we're still three days shy of the city gates, elf," he finally says. "You're gonna be missin' your morning ride across the Tears." He offers the boy the bottle.
Tylum		#3	[-]
Posts: 230 (10/21/09 1:03 PM) Ridol's Apprentice Reply Quote More My Recent Posts	Yeah, er...well... Tylum ducks his head and looks chagrined. The wagon lurches heavily. I wouldn'ta made it anyway. Is it still okay if I ride with you? I can...help or something maybe. He surveys the caravan with a youth's air of worldliness and tries to cloak the uncertainty in his voice. So...what're we transporting?
Kanolth		#4	[-]
Posts: 1990 (12/03/09 2:45 AM) Sigil of the Outcast Blade Order of the Wayfarers GSW Emeritus Reply Quote More My Recent Posts	The driver scoffs as he whips his reigns. He pays no heed to Tylum's question as he pulls the bottle away from his new passenger and takes another swig. "Aaaaaah...." he hisses as he fastens the cork of his bottle and puts it off to the side. After several minutes of watching the road as his wagon crawls forward through the rain, he turns his gaze toward the quivering lad. "Gettin' to Freeport in these troubled times lends itself to a bit of danger and much work upon camping. We expect you'll be pullin weight in both battle and chores, elf. So you're gonna be workin for me now, at least until we reach the city." He keeps his eyes on the boy, and Tylum can see now the lurking danger within his eyes. This man was no ordinary wagoneer of Tylum is certain. He had the same eyes as the cook.... Ridol.... Kanolth.... Keats. Although they were darker, and despite the man's soft, aging features, darker and more sinister. After a few more moments of silence, the man turns his gaze back toward the road.
Tylum		#5	[-]
Posts: 231 (12/03/09 4:28 AM) Ridol's Apprentice Reply Quote More My Recent Posts	Y-yes sir. Tylum lets a quaver enter his voice; it is easy with the cold and the rain and the strangeness. His gaze slides unwillingly off the man, his expression that of a person who watches a snake, afraid it will strike if eye contact is broken, but too cowed by the gaze to maintain it. He hopes fervently that Ridol's faith in him is not misplaced. He notes that the man has not answered him. The boy keeps his eyes fixed on the "road" ahead. Last Edited By: Tylum 01/02/10 9:41 PM. Edited 2 times.
Kanolth		#6	[-]
Posts: 1993 (12/05/09 4:06 AM) Sigil of the Outcast Blade Order of the Wayfarers GSW Emeritus Reply Quote More My Recent Posts	The journey through West Commonlands is slow, and miserable. The day darkens, but the rain does not let up. The sky beats down upon the weary drivers and their new passenger. The dozen or so wagons, with accompanying horses and mules, approach a cluster of what seem to be abandoned buildings surrounded by a thick copse of trees. As they approach the buildings the wagons slow, and a man on the first wagon jumps from it and runs down the caravan line, his hand on the hilt of his sword all the way. "Aye, aye," grumbles the driver as he perks up and watches. "Something's amiss most like." The man jumps up onto a wagon three ahead of Tylum's. The wagon then lurches to a stop and the driver stands and signals for the rest of the caravan to do the same. Tylum's driver gently pulls on the reigns, bringing his horses to a dead stop. Within moments the caravan sits idly along the winding road as a group of men jump from the first two wagons and make their way up the hill toward the dilapidated ruins. The driver reaches back and pulls out a heavy crossbow. He then reaches back again and pulls out a short sword, handing it to Tylum without so much as an acknowledgement to the act. Pulling the winch of the crossbow back with one great heave, he places a bolt and leaves the crossbow leaning across his legs as he sits there for a few moments, contemplating the possibilities of what might be happening up on that hill. "Stay here, I'm gonna go see what the hold up's all about." He jumps out of his seat, and slowly walks toward the front of the caravan, leaving Tylum alone with naught but the howling wind, the pelting rain and the uncertainty of what cargo this wagon might have. Last Edited By: Kanolth 12/06/09 2:49 AM. Edited 1 times.
Tylum		#7	[-]
Posts: 232 (01/02/10 10:19 PM) Ridol's Apprentice Reply Quote More My Recent Posts	Suddenly, Tylum is alone on the wagon seat holding a short sword. A ripple of fear shivers him, and he restrains himself from leaping down off the wagon and bolting across the commonlands. That's not part of the mission. This is the mission. This is what Ridol wants me to do. This is what I have to do. Where am I gonna go if I don't? Find out if this is the real thing. Tylum straightens in his seat, wrapping his fingers around the hilt designed for larger, human hands. He scans the wagons. All attention seems to be focused to the front, and the wagon or two behind him can't see him well. He edges open the door that closes off the covered portion from the driver's seat and glances casually through the crack. The smell hits him first. He had thought, at first, that it was the horses in front of him, but the door was containing it. Worse than any stable...the rank stench of sweat, urine, despair, and terror...Tylum gulps, swallowing the bile that rises in his throat, and pushes the door shut again, setting the latch. He'd thought that he'd heard clanking and shifting behind him, and had hoped that maybe this caravan was a decoy, that he would not see... His sharp Feir'dal vision was still mercifully dim enough in the pitch darkness of the wagon that he only had impressions of many, many bodies sitting and lying together, propped on one another, their labored breathing making an eerie, arhythmical cadence that did not quite fill the air of the "room"...it left something missing, despite the number of bodies making the sounds. Tylum shudders and swallows again. The mission. Pay attention to the mission. Yes, it's the real thing. The right caravan. Now he...Where has his driver gone?
Kanolth		#8	[-]
Posts: 2112 (01/30/10 2:38 AM) Sigil of the Outcast Blade Order of the Wayfarers GSW Emeritus Reply Quote More My Recent Posts	Minutes pass by, and then the driver re-emerges from one of the wagons ahead. He jogs back to his wagon and hops up onto the seat, grabbing the reigns and when the caravan begins its slow ascent up the hill he tightens his grip on his crossbow and curses under his breath. Despite the tension, the elf lad cannot detect any danger himself. Everything seems normal.... until they reach the top of the hill and displayed out before the wagon-train are the corpses of six orcs, possibly bandits that had planned to ambush the caravan. "The rest of em got away," one of the bloodied killers says as he stands over one of his kills with stained sword hovering ominously over the cleaved skull. His face is decorated with the blood splatter of his monstrous victims, and his piercing blue eyes are rimmed with wrinkles, and scars. His voice is gravelly and course, no doubt from enjoying the pipe one too many times. But despite his thug like appearance, Tylum can see a sharp intelligence in the man's face, and when the man's eyes settle on him while he speaks, he feels the coldness of them as it pierces through his cover. "I counted eleven in total. Horfold in is pursuit, although I doubt he'll get them all." "That'll teach em," the driver says in thieve's cant as he spits. Tylum can decipher the language well enough thanks to his exposure to the rogue way of life. "Do you reckon we'll be bothered when night falls? I have had this overwhelming feeling that we've been uncovered." The killer nods, "I have seen that look before, heh. I don't share in your trepidation mate. But you have put me on guard, that's for sure. As for these orcs they are clumsy and we'll be ready for em." He then nods toward Tylum. "Who's the kid?" The driver turns to regard Tylum and reverts back to common. "Just some wayward soul I decided to rescue from a ditch. The commonlands is no place for a lad to travel alone." The killer shakes his head and grins, continuing the conversation in common as well. "Aye indeed. You don't know what might be waiting for you just round the corner, eh?" He takes a rag from the passing wagon and begins to wipe the blood from his sword. "Make camp in yonder clearing, near the abandoned tower there. We'll sort out watch once camp is made." The driver nods politely as his wagon trudges past. Within hours the fires are going, and the camp is made. A very large tent is placed in the center of the wagon ring and Tylum can see the cautious nature of the three on watch as they walk inside the ring, peering out into the darkening night. Tylum counts around two dozen men, not counting the prisoners he knows sit quietly in the back of the wagons. The men do not demand much of Tylum, despite their growing curiosity as to who he is. Some of them even treat Tylum as a nuisance, and he knows to take a hint, opting to stay with the wagon and watch from on high. "We leave at first light, so be sure you are ready to go, otherwise I'll be leaving you behind," the driver says when he brings his passenger a bowl of stew later that night. He lights a pipe. "So, where do you hail from boy and what business brings you to such a troubled place?"
Tylum		#9	[-]
Posts: 233 (02/03/10 9:39 PM) Ridol's Apprentice Reply Quote More My Recent Posts	Tylum takes the bowl from the man's hands, silently grateful that his little bag of road rations will be saved for another evening. He allows not-entirely-feigned eagerness to show on his face as he shovels the stew into his mouth, letting his shaggy hair fall a bit into his eyes as he seems to give his whole attention to wolfing down the meal as though he hasn't seen food in a while--yet, in his show of eating quickly, his actual bites are moderate so that the meal actually lasts slightly longer than it should, keeping him supplied with the plausible excuse of having a mouthful of food to buy himself time to think before he speaks. The driver asks him a question. He chews carefully and swallows. I'm from Kelethin. Came here cause I wanted to see Freeport, an' when I got there, I got a job to take a letter to the Commonlands, an' when I did they said could I see about getting a bag of seed to their cousins in East Karana, an' I always wanted to travel, y'know, so... Tylum spoons another bite into his mouth. So yeah. I got to see the world from a little trip to Freeport. He smiles with the shy pride of the novice traveler, still amazed at his own worldliness. The driver chuckles roughly and shakes his head, though whether out of nostalgia for or mockery of such innocence, Tylum doesn't venture to guess. The man doesn't comment. Tylum keeps his eyes on his stew, scraping the bowl clean and washing the dish out of habit before managing an uncomfortable doze on the wagon seat, wondering, not for the first time, if he is completely out of his depth. * * * The caravan is awake, packed, and moving before day has fully broken. The looming walls of Freeport approach, and the caravan trundles heavily on.
Kanolth		#10	[-]
Posts: 2116 (02/04/10 3:27 AM) Sigil of the Outcast Blade Order of the Wayfarers GSW Emeritus Reply Quote More My Recent Posts	On a hilltop not far from the campsite, a lone figure sits beneath the shade of a tree. He watches the departing caravan through his small telescope and lets out a resigned sigh when he sees Tylum on one of the wagons. "Not quite in with em yet, but I expect you to take your time Tylum my boy.... And thats good. These bastards can smell desperation." Ridol turns his gaze eastward and takes note of the broken horizon. Freeport sits there like an uncut jewel in a patch of sandy brown and a small bit of remorse reminds Ridol of his longing to one day return home when his services are no longer required. He snaps out of his daydream and turns his attention back on Tylum as he peers through his telescope once more. The wagon train will reach Freeport when the sun sets, and once the caravan passes through the city gates, Ridol will have to trust Tylum will follow his orders and remember his training. That thought does not sit well with the rogue as he ponders the situation for a moment. He was too well known in Freeport to pass through quietly without anyone noticing. Eventually someone would recognize him and the alarm bells would sound throughout the Freeportian underworld. With a series of clicks he pushes the telescope inward on both ends, reducing it to a small rod and sliding it into a sheath on his belt. He then rises to his feet and turns in the other direction for Dolman's Inn. "You're on your own now Tylum. I pray nothing ill befalls you."
Tylum		#11	[-]
Posts: 234 (02/06/10 12:18 AM) Ridol's Apprentice Reply Quote More My Recent Posts	And the days turn to weeks...