Clarissa's Tale (Book 1) Part 9: The Final Act
Clarissa's Tale (Book 1) Part 9: The Final Act (AKA Who is Nev
Ironbar... and more importantly, what is the organisation that he works
for?)
by Russell Bird
Nev Ironbar had shut the door on Clarissa. Outside, Ehlranth and
Romanar were waiting for him. Romanar laughed to himself. "Had
enough?"
"Oh, be quiet, damn you!" Nev Ironbar pulled off his ever present hat.
He didn't bother to pull off the eye patch, as it disappeared as his
features swam. Neither of the other two were disturbed by this. His
face was completely different now, and even his posture had changed:
less haughty, more military. Standing before Ehlranth and Romanar now
was a tall and handsome man with olive skin of early middle age: a
native of the Shield Lands, in fact. His wavy red hair was greying and
his weather beaten face was a mask of tension. "Did Dinizael identify
the ring?" he asked.
"With his dying breath..." replied Romanar.
"What a pity..."
Romanar surrendered the ring. The person who was known as Nev Ironbar
turned it over. "The long lost Ring of the Pomarj! With this, whole
armies of humanoids can be summoned..."
"The secret of Turrosh Mak is out," mused Ehlranth, "so... now that you
possess it, how do you propose to corrupt it?"
"I will FIND a way. If the most powerful wizards cannot be brought,
they can be threatened."
"What of our mercenaries?" asked Romanar.
"Yes, all of them equated themselves superbly I thought. Remind me
again of the casualties."
"Tafcho, Gleeson, Mary Hunter, Lav Kivelar..." Ehlranth began.
"How is Aridena coping with that?"
"A bit of a mess, I'm afraid..." replied Romanar.
"Well, if she can't pull herself out of it, she won't be of any use to
us... see that she is cared for... Why are you shifting? Does this
bother you? Or YOU, elf! Is this lowly task beneath you now? One of
your skill?"
Both were silent. Ehlranth eventually replied for them both. "Of
course not. We will do as you say. But... well, our activity list
isn't exactly getting shorter..."
"Fine, I release you then! You will give aid when the time comes for
the crusade, won't you?" To this, there was nervous fidgeting.
Romanar changed the subject, "perhaps I might see to the needs of those
that we have to return to Safeton with the Militia. Can I have the
passes?" He was given what he asked for, and left.
Ehlranth spoke, "try not to be too hard on him, business in the Bandit
Lands is peaking right now."
"Of course, and you are busy and well travelled yourself..."
"If I might be going..." replied Ehlranth, almost wearily.
"Yes... see to Clarissa, she is a wild talent I am sure. Have her
watched by the organisation, and the Tavern is off limits, of course.
Have some of the younger members make contact and help her with her
skills. If Mahaern tags along and proves himself a nuisance...."
"I will do as you suggest," said Ehlranth, and this time with a smile,
"as always, your counsel is much appreciated... Organisation of
balance, indeed!"
"I will see you later, Vesper..."
Ehlranth, who was really Vesparian Lafanel, Guildmaster of Assassins and
one of the Directing Oligarchs for the City of Greyhawk, turned to the
door and thought that his colleague needed a minute. Indeed, his
colleague was heading for the balcony around the corner. Vespar called
after him. "Tell me something, I have never known Lassiviren to take
another identity. Is 'Romanar' his only disguise?"
"You should know better than to ask a trade secret... Lassiviren is a
paranoid! If he knew you had even asked the question... well, you know
the consequences, or you can imagine." Vesper felt his blood run cold,
and hurried off.
The man who was known as Nev Ironbar turned a corner and walked out onto
a balcony. Of course, Nev Ironbar was but one of several names he had
taken over the years, and each had a different face thanks to his Hat of
Disguise, which worked well despite the enchantment of this place.
From the balcony, he was looking out over the village of Cantona. The
sun had almost gone down on the place. The militia had raided the
village, but the slavery continue. For now, the slavers were gone. He
looked below, and there were the surviving mercenaries. Beaten,
fearful... but survivors. They would be a big help when the time came
to retake the Shield Lands. He knew all of them and all of their
secrets... if any refused to give aid when the time came, well,
blackmail certainly wasn't out of the question.
For now, there was the ring. A great find... that fool Dinizael did his
job well. He was also glad that Gleeson was dead. Gleeson would have
blown the cover of the whole task, and scared the Slavers off.
He looked at the ring, and fell in love with the thought of the power he
could wield with it... a good addition to the ring of invisibility with
which he had used to secretly protect Clarissa when the slavers struck.
With the proper corruption, he could send whole hordes of humanoids to
their death, slaughtering each other without a second thought. All
while he watched for his own amusement... but only after he learned
where that squinty, swine-faced Despot Mak was hiding. He would stalk
that filth and choke the life out of him with a pair of Ogre Gauntlets,
or anything that allowed for the strength of a giant if possible. He
had had enough trouble keeping his rage under control for the sake of
the mission. What a fool Mak was for sharing the ring with the other
Slavers. A costly mistake...
For now, he had some authorised leave left and he would head out on one
of his solo crusades, free from the constraints of everyone else... and
free from all their neuroses and problems. It would be good for working
off the tension. For now, there was one final matter to take care of, a
problem he had kept hidden from both Vesper and Lassiviren... an
internal matter... none of their business, really. Vesper suspected,
but that did not matter, he would maintain his silence.
He looked below, and he could see Vespar leading Clarissa out into the
main street. She ran over and embraced Mahaern. "Quite an ask," he
thought, "...given the mess that Mahaern was at the moment... Yes, how
very touching..." and made a mental note to give Xerien a big surprise
and just drop in on her sometime soon. "She likes that..." he thought
with a grin. Would the two below stay together? He considered the
Clarissa that he had come to know... of course not!
Yes, they were all cuddling now... What a pity none of them knew real
suffering... like knowing that your homeland was dying under a regime
of tyranny, knowing that your ability to do anything about it is yet
probably years away.
He waited patiently for the traitor to show his face. He knew now that
all of the six guards were dead... save one. He wasn't able to find out
which one, as that person had managed to hide the bodies in the
aftermath of the Slavers strike, and then disappeared himself. If it
weren't for the traitor leading the slavers to the group rather than the
other way around, they would all have been protected by the militia
patrol that he had arranged to have follow them from Safeton. No one in
the mercenary group need have died. No one would have died if not for
this TRAITOR! Slaver infiltration was everywhere. He would have to
take action soon. It wouldn't be long now, surely...
And in the shadows, just visible as the darkness began to fall, Granduur
appeared, ready to slip into the gathering survivors...
"Granduur, you BASTARD... I should have known! You always were an
ambitious turd and survivor... Well, not for much longer you won't
be..."
He began assembling his ornate bow. He looked through his quiver among
his many Slaying Arrows, and found the one he was looking for. Just to
be sure, he emptied a whole bottle of his finest paralysing poison on
the tip. He began talking to himself, "... yes, and if you just happen
to be one of the fortunate few able to resist the enchantment of the
arrow, if it even works in this place, this potent concoction will
prevent you from blabbing any of your secrets... or mine."
He took aim and pulled the bowstring back. Lining Granduur up, he spoke
to himself once more, "you are GONE!"
Confidant of the shot, Turin Deathstalker, Commander of the Safeton
Garrison; Former Guildmaster of Assassins and Directing Oligarch for the
City of Greyhawk; Guildmaster of Assassins for Safeton; Master of
Disguise; Patriot; Successful Businessman; loyal employer; borderline
psychopath; the single most dangerous assassin and one of the most
experienced fighters on Oerth... relaxed the fingers that were holding
the bowstring taught....
End Book 1. Prelude 1.5 begins in a month. Suggested for mature
Greytalkers ONLY.
