BNN: A Gemstone Lost

Prellis the scribe Jul 10 2000 2:58PM

It was a common enough night at the Barnacle, the local inn and tavern situated in Minoc. Throughout the eve a slow, yet steady stream of miners and lumberjacks filtered in for a drink prior to heading to their homes after a long day’s work. The tavern-keeper had an easy job in this remote town, serving the local patrons and occasional visitor.

He made his way about the spacious room, cleaning up empty mugs and waking the few drunks resting their heads on the table. Even before he began to approach one such table, he could hear the loud snoring of one who had far too much to drink and would not be going home this eve. Without much concern for waking him, the tavern-keeper cleared off the table, took a last look around the room and retired for the night. In his drunken slumber, Lupov Thagrad, the sometimes alchemist, shifted in his seat, his face turning to the side and his hand dropping from his lap to dangle limply in the air.

Were any inhabitants in the tavern awake, the sounds of the snoring echoing off the table would have covered the slight sound of the door opening, would have covered the near silent foot falls of the man who entered and approached the table Lupov slept at. Even had the alchemist been in a normal sleep, the masterful hands of the assassin searching through his belongings would not have stirred him.

Having not found what he was looking for, the assassin, cloaked in a cape of red, drew his kryss blade, the thick poison that coated it gleaming in the candlelight. Perhaps it was the scent of the poison on the blade disturbing the alchemist’s keen nose that caused him to shift again in his sleep, perhaps it was a bad dream brought on by the watered down wine, but whichever it was it had saved his life. For when Lupov made that little movement, the hand that dangled in the air opened and a small gemstone fell to the floor.

The tourmaline landed on the floor with a loud thump and then proceeded to roll across the ground, the assassins eye fixed upon the glimmering stone. As he reached down and retrieved the tourmaline his lord had sent him for this night, he could hear the sounds of the tavern-keeper stir from his sleep, awoken by the sound of the gem striking the ground. Pocketing the gemstone rumored by many to be one which was sought after by the daemon Nostur’yl, the assassin quickly left the building, leaving only the still-sleeping Lupov to be seen when the tavern-keeper entered.

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