When Legends Fall

Chapter II, Part II: Awakening

Chapter 2:1

Quinn began his morning with an old hobby of his. It had been years since the Guild of Mercenaries had been this bold. Too long. Either way, he was fighting for his life against three highly trained assassins. He woke to the sound of an arrow thunking into the wall beside his head, and muted cursing several yards away. He stood up quickly, musing, Luck. With all my old skills, I was saved by luck. As he stood there, waiting, two assassin's rushed through the front door and one burst through the window, sending shards of glass skittering across the floor. The one from the window had a recurve bow raised and an arrow already nocked, pointed straight at his chest. One drew a pair of wickedly curved knives and the other a long dagger, almost a sword.

Quinn raised his hands in submission, raising an eyebrow and inclining his head towards his bow-wielding assailant, "You missed." His tone wasn't mocking, or incredulous, but a flat, monotone statement of fact. The man with the bow spat, "Don't give me lip, old man, you're just as dead either way." One of his partners flipped his knife in the air, catching it by the blade without looking, "The Great Mage, killed by three lowly assassins" he snickered, "Without your little tricks your nigh helpless aren't you? A kitten in a corner."

Quinn replied in the same flat tone as before, "I've learned a few new tricks. And rediscovered some old ones as well." The assassin put on a look of mock horror, before gesturing towards the plaque on the mantle, "Then how'd you get this expensive little piece of kindling?" As he was finishing the statement, he threw his curved knife, and it pinwheeled crisply through the air. Without moving his feet, Quinn lunged with his arm, catching the blade between two fingers and pirouetting in place, thrusting an arm out as he spun to the point where he began. The knife flew four feet and slammed into the assassin, who, by luck that rivaled Quinn's own, had raised his gauntlet, glancing the knife off to the side. The assassin looked up, eyes wide with disbelief, "You missed."

Quinn shook his head,

"No I didn't." He snapped his foot up, hitting the assassin in the nose and knocking him unconscious. Quinn tried to use his magic, but the energy he could transform was painfully low. His powers had been stripped from him by the VVerym. Somehow, impossibly, last night he had called upon those energies once again. They came back painfully slowly, the tiniest of trickles returning at a time. He drew as much energy as he could from the fire, barely making it waver as he siphoned its power. Pitiful. As the arrow from the assassin ten feet away came towards him, he infused it as many times as he could, straining with the effort. The arrow dipped almost straight down, slowing enough that Quinn caught it, breaking it and throwing it as he threw himself to the side.

His shoulder hit the hard stone of the mantle and he stood quickly, removing the hanging quarterstaff from its hooks. It was of light ash-wood on the outside, and its core was of a brittle but easily infusible black metal called Arcae. It would be next to worthless in a fight if it got hit once while not infused, but luckily, the more energy Qinn expended, the easier it would be to use it. He drawed more energy from the fire, and infused his staff once. He was feeling weak in the knees and sweat poured down his forehead, but he needed to keep up the image of being in full health. In the assassin's surprised stupor, they let down their guard, mouths hanging cavernously wide. With two quick swipes, he had hit one in the jaw and the other in the gut, knocking them to the ground. As they lay there, nursing their wounds, Quinn kicked them viciously in the ribs. Once, twice. He picked them up by their collars, slinging them out the door and onto the dirt. As they ran, rousing their unconscious partner, he yelled. "Tell Illen I'm back, and I'm coming!" He watched them go, than tripped inside and slumped down on his cot, exhausted. He rubbed his hand along the edge of the smooth staff, musing at the feel of it in his hand. He stood up, and replaced it on its hooks. He sighed, "Melodrama really takes it out of you." The fire had rekindled, and was blazing merrily in the corner once more. The water in the pot had long since evaporated, and the smell of burnt beans tinged the air. Quinn closed his eyes, sucking the energy from the fire. It took much more effort than it used to, but he did it. The fire was stifled to nothing but burning embers. It was getting easier.

Quinn heard a shuffling behind him. Of course, insurance. The fourth assassin was heavier-set than the other three, but had no problem launching his large frame into the air, short-sword held above his head. Quinn released the energy in the form of expulsion, transferring the heat into kinetic energy. He released it through the palm of his hand, concentrating it for the most force with the least energy dispersed. A fist-sized bluish light flew straight for the assassin's abdomen, sending him flying against the wall. As the assassin crumpled to the ground, Quinn whispered, "You're a new kind of idiot, aren't you?" Then, he did something unique, even for a mage. Using an intense Mental Link, he placed his hand on the assassin and released energy directly into him. The sheer force exploded the man in a hail of blood and flesh and bone. Quinn collapsed, the corners of his vision going black. His knees gave out from under him, and he fell onto his face, drowning in the tangible darkness.