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."
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."






