Scales of War


Heavy cloud hung over the city like a blanks, with soft drizzle keeping the dawn a hazy grey. In his lodgings in the Blister, a drowsy figure lay in a half awake state being lulled back into sleep by the gentle rain. As he drifted off, he wondered what had woken him up. And there it was. A gentle tapping from outside, dampened by the haze. It could be anything, rain dripping from the roof’s gutters, a delivery person making their early morning rounds, or even..

Tap tap. This time louder, and definitely coming from the locked window outside. Snapping instantly awake, and every muscle poised for action, mind racing on what, or who it could be. His presence here was not widely known, but anyone who did know knew not to fuck with him. Tap tap tap it came again, the window frame rattling as someone tried to get inside. Sensing the presence of his weapon across the room, the swordmaster called it to his hand as he leapt from the bed. In the same instant, he focused his body to rush through the air, becoming immaterial. Picking a spot on the eaves of the window, Cutter re-materialised, sword poised to strike. The source of the tapping turned, looked at him with its yellow avian eyes, and Cutter lowered his sword and stared at the raven. It opened its mouth but instead of the piercing caw like so many that infested the city, a familiar voice spoke.

“Cutter… is time I called in the favour you owe me. Gather your allies at my tower at dusk” said the gravely voice of Rufus Crumley. And with that, the bird took flight in the direction of the slums.

“Well shit” he said aloud, as he climbed back through the window. Instinctively Cutters hand went to the patch of skin he’d had grafted to his back. He’d always known there would be a price to pay for the tattoo, and truth be told, the old man had come in handy with Kalad. The problem, was timing.

Bill had left Overlook and was very brief on the details on where he would be. Cutter suspected it had to do with that dwarven temple, but all he had said was that he would return when ready. He left over a month ago, he was probably a million miles away by now! Glenn too had disappeared without a trace. The aftermath of the siege of Overlook had meant a lot of time to relax and refit, so it had not mattered much….until now.

Luckily Cohen and Dexter we back from the wilds. Although they’d found a solid lead on Sarshan, this detour would mean that he would have to wait. Hopefully they would still be at the Mountains Hearth Inn. If not, well someone there would know where to find them. Cutter pulled his boots on, and stepped out of his lodgings into the crisp morning air. Strolling down the rough cobbled streets, the change in scenery was dramatic. You’d hardly guess that a few short months ago the city was almost ruined by Zithuruun’s army. It was a testament to the Dwarves how quickly the recovery effort started up. Durkik had more than his fair share to do with it too. Everywhere you went you saw his influence in the organised crews, methodically working their way, from the inner districts out. Ironic, as that was the same way Zithuruun had planned on capturing Overlook.

And it had almost succeeded. If it wasn’t for one suspicious priestess, they never would have found out about the doppelganger s. Even now they still didn’t know how many there had been. All one had to do was change its appearance and they became just another face in the crowd, lost in the multitude that was the Overlook populace. Again, working from the inside out.

Arriving at the Inn Cutter stepped through the open doorway into a scene of utter chaos. Chairs and tables were broken, shattered glass littered the floor and the stench of ale stung Cutter’s nostrils. That was good news, it meant Cohen had spent the night. Tiptoeing over sleeping (and possibly comatose) dwarfs, Cutter made his way upstairs to Cohens lodging. The door was locked, but a solid kick had it flying back on its hinges as he stumbled into the room. Just in time Cutter’s sword leapt from its sheath and into the path of an enormous barbarian axe. It sure took a lot to surprise Cohen, as the two comrades ginned between their interlocking blades.

“Get you shit together Cohen” Cuttter said, disengaging his blade. “We’ve got a debt to pay”



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