A dragon, a dwarf and an elf walk into a bar...
But only because that bar is on their way to tracking down the lost heir in a last-ditch quest to save the kingdom from a very long list of very bad things. And also, quite possibly, because the more o...
Just once, she'd like a challenge. A task she could sink her teeth into. Something that might actually stretch her abilities, allow her to test herself and provide, along with the usual shower of gold, the satisfaction of a job well done . Gold was easy to come by, after all. Satisfaction, not so much.
And she'd thought this might have been just such a job. Three soldiers, albeit two of them retired, three individuals with the kind of skills that might just, if not match her own, then at least allow her to make good use of them. Some use of them, at any rate.
But, no. It seemed they were to be easy pickings, just like all the rest. Following their trail from the palace had been child's play, tracking them down to the gnomes' magic shop simplicity itself, and shadowing them to the tavern—and now to wherever it was they were headed next—laughably, contemptibly easy. It was true the elf had glanced her way once or twice, but it could only have been by chance. In her hooded cloak, trailing half a block behind her quarry, utilising every trace of the copious cover the bustling streetscape provided, she knew she was as good as invisible.
Lord Hirschnopple had provided no justification for her task and she had asked for none. There was perhaps a time, years ago, while still in the early stages of her own life, that she might have wondered at the reasons for the taking of another, but those days had long since passed. While it was true the League's elders had taught her such concepts as morals and honour and compassion—and taught them well—they had only done so in so much as it allowed them to be cast aside. To be overcome and ignored as the useless and sentimental fripperies the best and most talented apprentices soon saw them for.
Even to a disinterested observer such as herself it was clear her targets had been appointed some task, and it didn't take a genius to conclude three such as these could only be on a quest they believed, in their emotionally handicapped judgements at least, to be just. As being good, whatever it was they perceived that to mean. Which, she supposed, by extension, made her bad. Evil or wicked, or what have you.
She could still faintly remember a time when that might have bothered her. When those concepts held some meaning, some power to sway her feelings and perhaps even influence her actions. Now, of course, they were nothing more than that—concepts. Good or bad, angels or demons, heroes or villains, it mattered not—to her the trio were targets and nothing more. A paycheque, a means to an end.
And it was time to collect. Time for the end.
Their end.
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"You cannot be serious. Haven't we already wasted enough time?"
Striding by his side along the street, Carri turned and gave Slash a frosty look. "Excuse me? An hour or so to obtain a device that will lead us directly to Vazor, a man who could be literally anywhere on the face of this benighted world, and who might otherwise have taken us years to find? If we'd even been able to find him at all? You call that wasted time?"
