Live, and die, by the sword by ~holylink718Pasha Khalili was moments away from death, and he didn't even know it. So arrogant was he, thinking himself invincible. Leader of one of the most influential thieves' guilds in Sharn, the City of Towers, he thought quite highly of himself. He had surrounded himself with hundreds of trained rogues and warriors, not to mention his personal entourage of elite hobgoblin bodyguards, trained by Daask.
Daask was a criminal syndicate specializing in supplying demi-human troops to the surrounding thieves' guilds, lesser mercenary companies, or other such organizations. Daask had a strict policy of neutrality concerning guild wars and the like, and most Daask mercenaries followed an unofficial code of conduct, refusing to kill their Daask brothers or sisters. For this reason, most inter-guild battles were fought with troops unaffiliated to Daask. However, they made perfect bodyguards, or in some cases, assassins. Yes, he had spent quite a lot on them, but not a copper was wasted, Khalili believed. These were the best bodyguards money could buy.
As elite as these mercenaries were, Tanith Valdis, master assassin, had no trouble at all slipping past their security. So deep inside their underground fortress, they simply didn't think anyone could possibly get that far without magic, and several magical wards prevented teleportation magic from functioning inside. Pasha Khalili just didn't understand. When Tanith is sent to kill someone, that someone is dead. If Khalili had realized just how badly he had fucked up, that Tanith would be sent to dispatch him, he may have thrown himself at the mercy of Large Luigi, the beholder he had crossed, and begged for forgiveness. But he thought he had gotten away with it. How wrong he was.
Khalili entered his personal chambers, the safest room in the entire complex, by all accounts, but Tanith was already there, waiting. As Khalili donned his nightclothes, Tanith slipped out from behind a large tapestry adorning a large portion of the wall. Even if Khalili had been facing the tapestry, all he would have seen was the torchlight as it flickered off the thin wire of the garrote. Suddenly he was choking. He couldn't breathe, couldn't yell for help. Only as his legs were kicked out from under him, and he fell to his knees, did he realize that he wasn't alone in the room. He struggled with all his might, but he didn't really stand a chance. Years of laziness had taken their toll on the once great thief. No longer as thin or dexterous as he used to be, he was helpless as he slowly passed from consciousness. He never saw the face of his assassin, but he knew why he was there. He knew he had gambled and lost. In his last moment of life, he thought it ironic that he would be assassinated in the same fashion, in the very room, that he had his predecessor removed in. Then he was dead.
No sign of forced entry was ever found, and the guards outside saw and heard nothing until their shift had ended the next morning. No one except his son and chief lieutenant knew about the secret door that lead to an escape tunnel to the sewers. As such, many suspected he played a part in his father's death, but none would openly speak of those suspicions. Nor did any truly care, for such was the way of things. After a few days, it was business as usual, albeit with a new Pasha.
*****
Business was very good that night at the Laughing Beholder, a seedy tavern in a pretty bad part of town. Despite the setting, however, the owner, Large Luigi, prided himself at his ability to keep his humble establishment relatively pleasant, considering the neighborhood it resided in. While he knew the occasional barroom brawl was inevitable, he tolerated no weapons to be drawn, and he made certain that anyone violating said rule was quickly and effectively removed from the bar. Though he usually let one of his many bouncers, most of which had orc or hobgoblin blood in them, handle such forced relocations, every once in a while he was forced to do so himself, and, to the delight of his patrons, usually in a spectacular fashion involving his incredible array of magical abilities. He rarely seriously injured these ruffians, but people loved such displays of power nonetheless.
The quiet evening was broken, however, when a commotion rose from the back of the room. He turned his eye to see what was going on, and chuckled to himself when he realized what it was about. Apparently three men, mercenaries, most likely, had attempted to make themselves at home in one of the back booths. Unfortunately, this booth was taken by a man who didn't want to be disturbed, and pointedly told them so. They obviously thought that, being outnumbered three to one, he had no say in the matter, and they promptly sat down anyway. Luigi, of course, recognized the lone man, and wondered if he was going to have to have the men dragged out once Tanith had beaten them senseless.
Normally, Luigi would have sent his bouncers, or perhaps he himself would go, and attempt to alleviate the building tension before it erupted into a fight. But he could sense that Tanith was in a foul mood tonight, and perhaps this is just the thing he needed to cheer up. Nothing cheered that one up quite like force feeding a bully his own lungs, and, Luigi had to admit, he enjoyed such things as well. Not to mention, the Laughing Beholder had not seen a fight in a few months now. Perhaps a demonstration was in order. He telepathically told his brutes to stand down, and let things play out. Besides, he figured, if they were too much for Tanith to handle, then what chance would his bouncers truly stand? Luigi cast a spell of clairvoyance, allowing him to more clearly hear the ongoing exchange.
"I believe I told you to be gone," Tanith was saying with a glare that had the men suddenly unsure of their bravado. "I won't tell you again. There are plenty of other tables. Go find one."
Such is the way with that one, Luigi mused. Rarely did he bother with threats, at least spoken ones. Luigi did hope, for their sake anyway, that they would heed Tanith's command, but he could see that they weren't going to.
"Maybe you aren't very good at math," The lead man said, suddenly regaining his confidence. "But we outnumber you three to one, so unless you want to use that ale to wash down your teeth, I suggest you scamper off and give the big boys room."
The man, Galen by name, then reached for Tanith's collar. In an explosion of motion that Galen's brain almost could not decipher, Tanith snatched his wrist and twisted it down as he stood, smashing Galen's face into the table. Before his stunned companions could even register that they were under attack, Tanith sent one flying with a swift kick to the sternum. Nearby patrons, and Luigi, thanks to his spell, could hear the bones crack under the force of the kick. The man crashed into a table, smashing it to pieces and sending its inhabitants scattering before coming to rest, quite unconscious, on the barroom floor.
To his credit, the third man kept his cool enough to try and take advantage of the situation and flank the assassin. Unfortunately for him, Tanith didn't have a flank. He turned into the assault and clothes-lined him into the ground, then turned to Galen, who was pulling himself up off the ground, holding a broken nose.
"I'll kill you, motherfucker!" Galen screamed as he snapped a knife out of a hidden sheath and lunged forward.
Tanith saw the blade coming and easily sidestepped it, grabbing Galen's wrist as he went. He could have simply snapped the man's arm, but instead he merely disarmed him. As he knocked the man to the ground, he caught the falling dagger and threw it in a brilliant flash of movement. No sooner had Galen smashed to the ground had the dagger thumped into the floor between his legs, imbedded halfway to the hilt. Sputtering curses, Galen was unceremoniously "escorted" out of the establishment by a rather large half-orc brute. Two others dragged his companions to the door and tossed them out into the gutter.
In the span of about 15 seconds, Tanith had incapacitated the three mercenaries with his bare hands, a detail not lost to any who witnessed the fight, if it could even be called that. Calmly, as if nothing had even happened, Tanith returned to his seat and took a long swig of his ale.
Yes, Luigi thought, business was very good this night.
*****
It was well after closing, long after he had sent his staff home for the night, before Luigi joined Tanith in the back booth.
"Ah, Tanith, I knew my faith in you was not misplaced," Luigi began with an approving grin. "Just as you promised, Khalili is dead, and his son, one who is much easier to manipulate, has taken his place. Do tell me, did he beg for mercy before you ended him?"
"He might have tried, but I hardly gave him an opportunity," Tanith responded dryly. "Though that might have been an amusing scene to watch, I have to say, I expected better from him. It was far too easy. If I hadn't known of his reputation, I would have taken that as an insult to my abilities."
"Well, my friend, while it may not have been entirely necessary to have sent one of your skill, I do enjoy the level of…efficiency I get from you. Besides, the man crossed me, and I cannot allow that to go unpunished. Already word on the street is that you were the one to do the deed. Who else in all the city could slip, undetected, into the heart of Khalili's very home and murder him in his own bedroom, all without anyone seeing or hearing anything?"
"They would be wise to keep such speculation to themselves, else they attract unwanted attention," Tanith returned slyly.
"My boy, you should take that as the sincerest of compliments," Luigi chuckled, knowing the game Tanith was playing, a game he himself enjoyed. "Besides, they won't move against you, you know. You're too valuable. No one would dare to invoke the wrath of nearly every criminal organization in the entire city."
And there it was again, a not-so-subtle reminder to whom he was dealing with. While Large Luigi was indeed a force to be reckoned with alone, his true strength came from his unrivaled influence, which reached from the highest government official's office to the most disgusting, disease ridden whorehouse in the depths of the city. Tanith may be one of the most dangerous men in the city, but Luigi was more than a single man, more than a single beholder even.
Not that Tanith believed that Luigi was threatening him. Tanith might have a hard time actually taking Luigi head-on, but likewise, Luigi would have a difficult time indeed if he wished to exterminate the greatest assassin the city had known in a century. And so, they worked together, for mutual benefit and profit. Tanith would take care of a few problematic individuals from time to time, and he was granted a nearly untouchable status among the other guilds. Everyone knew that no assassination contract was ever completed without the knowledge and consent of Large Luigi; people may suspect that Tanith was, in fact, the assassin who silenced Pasha Khalili, but he had obviously done so with Luigi's approval, if not request. And seeing as any who stood against Luigi soon perished, no one made a move against him.
As part of their arrangement, Tanith was also free to pursue side jobs with other guilds, as long as they did not interfere with Luigi's occasional contract. So, while to an outside eye, it may have seemed as though one or the other had the upper hand in the relationship, it was as close to a true partnership as most of Sharn's denizens had probably ever seen. Neither of them truly wanted to dominate the other, even if the opportunity presented itself, if for no other reason than just because it was doubtful it would be worth the effort necessary to do such a thing.
Tanith broke the moment of silence that had fallen upon them. "It's getting late, and I've got things that need my attention, so I'll not keep you any longer. Until next time."
Large Luigi nodded, watching him go. He was grateful that not all humanoids were so capable as that one. His job would be infinitely more difficult, he thought dryly.
*****
Tanith hadn't taken three steps out of the Laughing Beholder before he noticed his newly found shadow. The way the man moved suggested that he was very confident in his abilities, which was ironic considering how quickly Tanith spotted him. He considered turning and facing him right then and there, but quickly thought better of it. First he would look for any allies this man might have. As he walked, he did spot a second figure, this one on the rooftops, also following him. No doubt would-be assassins looking to make a quick stab at fame. After all, if they could bring Tanith himself down, they would, in effect, absorb everything he was. Every assassination he ever took part in would thenceforth be attributed to them. No novice to this line of thinking, he prepared for the inevitable fight. He could easily lose them, but it was doubtful they would give up so easily. Better to deal with it now, he decided.
He quickly found a suitable spot. For them, that is. He knew that if they intended to fight him head on they would have already done it, so he made his way toward an alleyway with easy access from the rooftops flanking it. He figured the one up top would make the first strike, dropping down at his back, probably hoping to end it before it really began, with the other coming up from behind as a sort of lookout. A good strategy, he thought. Too bad it's not gonna work.
Predictably, as he entered the alley, he saw the second stalker take position above the halfway point in the alley. Not wanting to disappoint, he continued on, slipping his hands down to the hilts of his blades. As the man dropped down on him, Tanith was already rolling past, causing the man to fall short of his intended target. As he came up from his roll, he drew his blades with lightning speed. Turning to face his would-be assassin, he sees not a man, but a warforged, a pseudo golem of sorts, imbued with the intelligence of its creators. Created in the Last War, they were intended to be an inexpensive machine, incapable of complex thought but highly durable and very obedient to its creator. As time when on, and the war reached its conclusion, however, they seemed to have developed a sense of self awareness, and have recently been deemed free citizens.
He then noticed that this was no ordinary warforged. This one had, in place of one of his normal sized arms, a huge monstrosity of an arm nearly as large as Tanith's chest. Tanith silently reminded himself not to let that connect with him as he glanced at the small crater that was the point of impact, where Tanith had just been standing. Evidently not one to relinquish his momentum, the warforged charged on with a right hook that would have taken Tanith's head from his shoulders had he not ducked at the last second. Instead it just took a piece of the building's foundation out. He rolled to the side as it came down again, impossibly fast. He leaped up and slashed with his sword, taking a chunk out of the constructs chest armor with it. Seeming not to notice, though, it came on again, failing to connect, but putting Tanith on the defensive.
Tanith suddenly wondered the wisdom of facing this one. Not having time to ponder it too extensively, however, he continued to fight defensively, avoiding the devastating blows while waiting for any sort of opening. His desperation grew, however, when he remembered the second assassin. He would have his hands full with this one alone, without any help from its ally. Realizing he needed to finish this quickly, he dared to dash up the wall and summersault over its head. He tucked his legs in not a second too soon, he saw, as it tried to intercept him midflight. As quick as it could swing it's arm, though, it couldn't turn fast enough to protect itself. His sword sliced into its back, blasting through its chest as his dagger stabbed into its underarm, stealing the strength from the rest of its arm, sending its club of a fist crashing to the ground. Not waiting to see if it was dead, he yanked his sword out and took its head off with one clean stroke.
As it collapsed to the ground, he turned to face its companion, just in time to see him casting a spell. He barely had enough time to consider his course before a bolt of lighting streamed down the alley towards him. He leaped to the side, the bolt barely missing him. He charged at the caster, knowing he had to stop him from casting again. As he approached, however, he realized with disgust that the caster was a mind-flayer, an illithid, not a mere spellcaster. Next came the traditional illithid blast of psionic energy, threatening to overwhelm his mind and paralyze his body. Tanith shrugged the brunt of the assault off and continued his staggered charge. Again his mind was assailed, and again it failed to defeat his formidable mental defenses, but this time, he fell to his knees, apparently stunned. Predictably, the mind flayer moved in for the kill, obviously wanting to feast on his brains while he was, apparently, unable to defend himself.
"Drop your sword," it said to his mind, trying to psionically force its will onto him while he was apparently vulnerable.
Continuing with the facade, Tanith let his sword fall with a clang to the cobblestone, but kept his dagger close to his side, out of sight. As the illithid reached for him with its tentacles, he leaped up. It barely had time to register that it had been tricked before the blade pierced its heart, or whatever the equivalent is for mind flayers. It gurgled the beginnings to a spell, no doubt to flee, but he drove the dagger again and again into its abdomen. Unable to hold its concentration long enough to cast its spell of teleportation, it fell to the ground in a bloody heap. It weakly reached out with its mind and tried to convince him to spare it, but it was too weak to truly be compelling, and to the mind of one such as Tanith, who managed to defeat its fully strengthened attempt to dominate his mind, was easily swatted aside. Tanith then drove his dagger into the creature's throat, ending its fast fading life.
After wiping his blades on the illithid's clothing, Tanith sheathed his weapons and searched the bodies for anything that would identify the two would-be assassins. Unable to find anything of value, monetary or otherwise, he left their bodies to be found by the watch and disappeared into the night.
It was doubtful that they were hired to kill him. They, or rather, the illithid, probably just wanted to make a name for itself by eliminating the greatest assassin in the city. He was unsure of the warforged's role in the whole thing, but he truly didn't much care. Could be it was mentally dominated into service or perhaps not, either way, it mattered little. He would continue to defeat such attempts on his life, but he knew that someone would eventually succeed. It was unlikely that someone such as him would die peacefully, of old age. When you live by the sword, you often die by the sword. Such is the way of things. And, truly, Tanith wouldn't have it any other way.