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[Arakad]

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The red felucca moon shone bright above the desert island. The air of Nujelm was calm. The sea calmer. But the harbor was active and bustling with the crimes committed. The pirate ship had landed that evening as the murderers stormed the city. They had killed many patrons at the bank, taken and looted the goods of those few that sought a peaceful life upon the outskirts of the Sosarian worlds.

Word had reached the Duke as he sat in his office in the Mazewood armory tower. Word of death, terror and a city under siege.

The Duchess had been attending the warriors ball, judging the contestants and enjoying a night away from the kids.

Arakad rose from his desk and went to his heirloom chest, pulling out the black armor of his days as a warrior for hire, and the blade forged of Valorite mined out of Pormir mountain, over fire from the lava of Montor and cooled in Termir Ilshen lake. The blade would never dull, never corrode. He sheathed the blade and suited for battle.

-

It was a mundane voyage, almost peaceful, as he sailed from the port of Skara Brae on the fully armed Galleon - Thorns Valor. Full mast and perfect wind brought him to the docks of the desert city.

The hired crew lowered the mast and tied the lines, keeping watch over the docks with the cannons primed and ready to fire at the first sign of the raiders return.

As the masked Duke approached the harbor master, he noticed the trail of fear in the air. Death was here; recent death. And it never left.

"My liege thank heavens you've arrived. We managed to drive off the Pirates but some of them still lay low in the outskirts district. We have sent patrols but they have found nothing." The Harbor master said, bowing just enough to pay his respects.

The gleam in the pale silver eyes showed a contempt for the Harbor Master. "You've done well my friend ... you should tend to the frightened and try to keep the moral of the people up. Order the patrols to maintain the city I'll handle outside the city limits."

Pushing past the gathering crowd it wasn't long before he took the advantage of blending in and fading into the city patronage. Few recognized their Duke, but it was rare he walked amongst them as nobility. He never liked titles, regardless of his heritage.

He came to the western gate and immediately used the arts taught to him to absorb into the shadows. His abysmal senses seeking out as he leaped through the darkness around the buildings, walking the abyss. He could trace the scent that the wretch on society left. He could smell the blood. He could taste the fear.

As though by instinct the scum summoned up his ghost mount - it was a small thing, a llama of course. Quick and light if it was given the chance to run, it wasn`t - The sad thing about such a mount is it takes longer to summon than it takes to shadow-step. The darkness is quicker than the light. Just as the murderer called up his mount Arakad leaped through the darkness in-front of the Pirate with enough force to the chest, a paralyzing blow. A kick from the side knocks him from the ghost mount sending the poor beast back into the etherium whence it came.

The raider immediately armed, leaping out at Arakad with a glancing blow. ~to slow old man, to slow~ the voice called from the back of Arakad's mind. The Familiar voice of the demon that now laid dormant within his body. Yet another distraction. But only because the voice was right - The bastard had all the time in the world to make that blow.

Arakad returned to the abyss, leaping to the darkness behind the scum. A swift, direct strike to the mans arm - it would leave the arm in one piece, but no force on Sosaria could let him use it again. At this prone position there were three maneuvers that Arakad could use against this braggart. One killed ... one maimed ... the other just hurt. A strike of lightning - one would not have seen the blow of his katana unsheathing, striking and returning to its resting.Ttaught to him from his master Tai - this blow was enough to send the man to the ground on one knee. With a firm strike to the Pirate on the base of the forehead with the pommel of the Katana, Arakad goes to work

-

Darkness, its fleeting ... its soothing ... it also hides the fear of the unknown. The criminal doesn't know what has come of him.

"I got rights man - this is assault - harassment." The pirate began, followed by a stream of lude comments about Arakads mother.

"Sure, bub - you have rights - many rights. In-fact I stay awake at night counting just how many rights you have, it gives me a chuckle before I sleep."

Light shown through to the pirates eyes, Arakad removed his hand from the murderers face.

It was the scream of help that echoed through the streets of Nujelm. The scream of terror that put a smile on Arakads face.

It took some time to hull the 200lb unconscious man to the top of the palace, and just a bit of effort to rig his bolas as a harness around the mans arms and legs. Hanging the scum of humanity upside down from the roof, Arakad crouched there holding the rope that kept the scum from falling face first to the ground.


"Ok! I swear! I won't be back just don't drop me man ... don't do it!" A plea, a cry to strike into the heart of the Duke. A dark heart that only one person could brighten, and she only does it by smiling at him.

"That's right - you won't be back - Mercy, not in my vocabulary" Arakad gave a soft growl of warning, allowing the rope to hiss as it slid from his glove - the man begins his slide down the marble surface of the wall.

The ground came issuing up to the man, and despite what the man might have heard - he will likely stay conscious for the entire fall. He would remain alive up until the point his nose inverted, his eyes sunk and popped inward and his face crunched like a walnut. Thoughts like that kept a smile on Arakads face.

Using the darkness as a guide, Arakad faded in and then stepped out by a tree near the base of the palace - dragon skin boots stepping over the roaming entrails of the fallen pirate as he made his way back through town. He tugged the dark cloak around him, lowered the hood and kept his masked face downward. The citizens never knew he was there, other than the rumors around the harbor of the visiting Duke, and as the Galleon pulled out of harbor, it was whispered around town of how the Duke and his men captured the last of the pirates and took them prisoner. Only the palace guard that cleaned the mess off the lawn would know the difference.