The Hand

[Rick Moore]

A meeting in Dread Keep...

"It seems we have time to take stock of what has transpired this past week. This Gov'nor of Yew is no where to be seen. She hides in the Yew wood like a plague beetle. If not for her underlings I would think Yew abandoned." Mikael's dark eyes moved from Omen to Malekai, his lips curled faintly upwards forming the tightest of smiles and continued.

"The message we left the people of Aegis seems to have fallen on deaf ears. I have it on good authority the slaughter that occurred within the tavern has been kept a secret from the surrounding villages... Since our attack I have rode the Yew wood and have seen not a soul. Perhaps we should speed up our plans."

Mikael looked to the brooding liche Malekai who stood before him and asked, "How goes it with bolstering the ranks of the Hand? Malekai glided back and forth effortlessly as he began to speak. "I have sssent word calling forth the most vile ssscum and villainy. Our ranksss continue to ssswell. There iss one I would mention who sstands above the rest, hisss name iss John Widow. A most vile one he iss." Milkael nodded and offered thanks before turning his attention to Omen.

"Alas my faithful friend I wanted to share this news with you as soon as possible. I have received word from a fellow brethren of ages past. Would seem he is willing to answer our call once again." Omen's eyes shown a glint of curiosity as Mikael continued speaking. "Cravien Shade should be arriving in Yew in three days. Be wary of him, for I would speak with him afore any other." Omen nodded in understanding.


Mikael D'Amavir >H<
Hand of Terror
The only way to make good is to be bad
ICQ: 8630161

 

[D'Amavir]

"We have to do something, Brother", the old man said, "We can't allow Mikael's reign of terror to continue." Since spotting his wayward nephew at the Abbey, Khoyl D'Amavir had made the arduous journey back to the Obsidian Isle where his family had resided for generations. He had hoped to convince the current Elder of House D'Amavir, Merik, to send support to the Abbey against Mikael's band.

That hope was quickly dashed as Merik responded, "Why should House D'Amavir care what happens to some already dying town? There is nothing there except farmers and monks." The way he spit that last word made clear his opinion of his brother's chosen profession.

The argument between the two continued for some time as the monk attempted to convince Merik to do what was right, for once. It might have continued all night if not for the third man present. Drevyn D'Amavir leaned back in his chair, feet resting casually on the obsidian table as the two fought before finally speaking up, "Elder, perhaps Uncle Khoyl is right to suggest that you send aid to the people of Yew. As things look now, cousin Mikael has gone even further into the darkness. He threatens more than just that small farming town. How long until the troubles he brings find their way here to our home?"

Merik remained silent as he listened to his young protégé. The red haired rogue often saw things from angles the Elder could not so he was given some leeway. "What do you suggest, child?"

"Perhaps I should travel to Yew and its surroundings to find out if there is anyone, or anything, there worth supporting. If nothing else, perhaps we can have others deal with our brigand problem before we are forced to ourselves."

Nodding sharply, Merik responded, "Fine. Go there and find out if any of it is worth my time. If not, return here and leave the farmers to their fate. We will deal with Mikael when it becomes necessary, if it becomes necessary. But he shares our blood. Shedding it is the very last resort."

 

[Omen Tailamont]

So, he thought despondently, The Hand of Pain was to return...

It wouldn't be long before, once again, Mikael chose the councel of the legendary mage above his own...

The thought left a bitter, metallic taste in Omen Tailamont's mouth.

Omen Tailamont >H<
The Hand of Treachery
ICQ: 22265202

"The only way to make good is to be bad."