HOME | DD

Description
The night was full.  There was no moon, and even if there had been, the low hanging clouds would have blocked it out.  The only light that shone was the few sputtering lanterns outside some of the more well to do businesses.  The rain and damp of the chill night had put out most of the street torches, and the hour was too late for most houses.  In general, this was the type of night where the worlds were close, when the barriers that kept one world from invading on the next.  In a alley that was shrouded even from the pitiful light that existed, a being of shadow pushed against the barrier that kept him in his world.  He needed to be in the mortal realm, where he could feed on the chaos, the misery, and most importantly the souls of those that lived there.  In his world, he would live and die in a short amount of time.  In the mortal realm, he could live forever.   He clawed, bit, tore, and rended the fabric of reality, until he was able to pour through the hole like a sludge through a sewer grate.  Fully within the mortal realm, the dark creature sent his senses out, searching, looking for his agents.  When he found the strings of fate that lead the closest to the chaos he craved, He chuckled, and spoke, "Let the games begin."  In their beds, those that were sensitive to his power, shuddered and silently screamed in their dreams.

Sharan lounged in her chair, her long legs hung over one arm.  She had spent a busy day in the market, and an even longer evening in the Rusted Anchor.  Ostensibly, in the market, her outfit and her demeanor made her seem a house maid.  Her Sylvan features, the typical golden hair, lithe body, pointed ears, and silvery eyes marked her clearly as an elf of the Sylvan Enclave.  most of the Sylvan elves here in Tyn were either house servants or guards.  She had moved among the other servants, the casual shoppers, and the day vendors, occasionally picking a pocket, or lifting some bit of gold or silver finery from some unsuspecting high class shopper.
Later, as the day grew long, and the shadows reached far to the east, she made her way to the Rusted Anchor, a pub on the harbor docks.  There she moved through the patrons, serving ale, wine, and stronger spirits to the dockworkers and deckhands.  As a waitress, she was ignored except for refills, and to be occasionally groped by drunken hands.   All in all, it wasn't a terrible way to make a living.  If only that was her only occupation.
Sharan was an Infiltrator, a thief and assassain for the Black Masks.  Her job, her real job, was to find information, determine threats to the Aryn Empire, and if necessary, eliminate those threats.  Most people of the Empire knew nothing of the Black Masks, and even fewer knew of its true purpose.  To most people of Tyn, she was a waitress and house servant.  To the underground, she was a thief and sometimes assassain.  To the Emperor, and his elite, she was a weapon, an instrument of power and control.
Sharan thought, and not for the first time, about this city she was assigned to, and how she got there.  Born in the Sylvan Enclave before the rise of the Aryn Empire, she was raised in typical Sylvan fashion.  As a female, her destiny was to be a priestess for Chia, goddess of nature.  However, when it was found that she possessed magical power, a rare feature in the Sylv, she was banished from the temple.  Without the protection of the temple, and Chia, she was alone.  The males of her race were trained in the ways of the forest, and of combat, but none would train her.  She was essentially alone.
It was then, when she was at her lowest when she was approached by an Aryn elf.  They were looking for people with unique talent, and she  had fit the bill.  Her Thaumancy, a magical ability to shape and control metal with her mind and spells, gave her an edge on opponents.  The Aryn nation would pay to have her taught her magic, and give her whatever she needed.  In return she had to agree to serve the Aryn nation.
She took the offer, seeing as she had no other options, and began training.  It was during this training that she found that the Aryn king, Valerin, had notions of Imperialism.  He had taken over the Dorwyn elves, the Sylvan elves dark cousins, without bloodshed.  Valerin had merely used his charm, and his considerable magic, to convince the dark skinned elves that their best option for security was under his banner.  He then proved it, by protecting two of their cities from an attack by orcs.
During her training, she found that it was no accident that an Aryn elf was in Sylv.  Valerin had set his eyes on the Sylvan enclave next, and had been looking to find a way to bring the wood elves under his banner next.  His answer came in the form of a vision.  One given to the High Priestess, showing Chia walking hand in hand with Valerin.  Chia, goddess of nature, knew that only by joining the Aryn, not fighting them, could the Sylv protect nature further.
Sharan remembered vividly when her training had reached the point where she was no longer considered an Acolyte, and was given her tests, to determine which job would be best for her.  Her training had advanced well, and she was able to cast many simple spells by mind.  She had also shown a certain knack for picking locks, even without her magic to assist.  Her real talent rested in her stealth, however.  Raised in the forest of the Sylvan Enclave, and taught from the time she could walk that disrupting nature was a sacrilage, gave her an unnatural grace and fluid motion that made no sound on any surface.  Her tests agreed with her fighting master, that she should be an Infiltrator.  Her skills in combat were solid, but not enough to be a Sword  Dancer, or Shield Singer, and her magic too limited to be an Enchantrix.  Her skills would be wasted in any other position.
After many successful missions, she was given the job most coveted by many of her brethren in the Black Masks.  She was assigned to Tyn.  Aryn was the capitol of the Empire, but Tyn was it's heart.  Tyn had been a human city, located at the mouth of a major river that was the lifeblood of much of the continent, on a natural harbor.  It had grown to become the most prosperous city on the continent, and had been the seat of power for the country of Galin.  Once the kingdom fell, Tyn had become the second city, known as the Jewel of Aryn.  The Emperor himself had taken a residence on the Noble Hill, and the great Marble Hall, the castle that sat on the hilltop, was a meeting place of comfort for any noble of the empire.  It was fast becoming  clear that Tyn would likely become the new capitol, for it gave the Empire more direct access to all of the kingdoms within the Empire.
Sharan shook off her revelry, and returned to the present.  Her real job now, was to gather information within the kingdom, keeping an ear and eye out for dissent.  She also was to keep specific merchants and nobles from gaining too much power, by stealing from them, or killing them when needed.  Today, she had gained two pieces of information that she may have to act on soon.
First: The Princept of Tianim, Yao-Cha, had come to Tyn.  His reason for being there was not known, but he had brought the Royal Champion with him.  Tianim and Aryn were on the brink of war, sitting in a stalemate  because of one thing.  Tianim was also the location of Brechtenheim, the home of the dwarves.  Brechtenheim was an independant kingdom, yet since the entirety of the kingdom existed beneath the mountain range that ran through the country of Tianim, the two kingdoms had signed a pact of mutual protection.  Aryn was reluctant to bring war to a country that could field an entire dwarven army to match size its human army.
Yet now, rumors flew that Brechtenheim had sealed its doors, its inhabitants falling to a mysterious plague of unknown origins.  With that shift in power, it was obvious that Tianim was looking to find another way to stave off war.
Second: News had come in today to the Rusted Anchor, that the merchant ship Waverunner had gone missing.  The owner of the ship, Gareth Paleblood, was a venerated merchant to most, and a known pirate in the underworld.  Rumor circulated among both circles about the reasoning.  Sharan herself believed that Gareth had run afoul of either another merchant or another pirate, and lost his ship.  Soon enough, Gareth himself may be coming to her, in an effort to gain a new ship, or to get revenge on whichever merchant he ran afoul with.
As she contemplated the two pieces of news, a knock came to her door.  It was late, and most respectable people would have been in bed.  Her contacts in the underworld, however, would be in the middle of their more nefarious jobs now.  Her contact with the Black Masks, a dwarf named Damon, would also know that she would still be up at this time.  She answered her door with some hesitation, and with her hand on her dagger.  At the door, stood a figure completely shrouded in black, with a dark purple cowl covering his face.  Only the strange golden eyes were visible to her.
"Sharan Olumet, Outcast of the Sylvan Enclave, Thaumancer, Assassain, and Infiltrator for the Black Mask, I need your help."
The voice that came out of the figure was a bare whisper, a grating of sand on stone.  The sound did not so much reach her ears as it permeated her body.  She shivered at the sound, even as she wondered how this being could know so much about her.
"who are you, and what do you want of me?"  She asked, her instincts telling her to be cautious.
"Who I am is unimportant, my task is what is important.  I was given the task of ensuring that Yao-Cha, Princept of Tianim, does not return home.  I was given your name, and told to seek you out.  It was told to me that you would be willing to take on such a job, if the price was right.  I am willing to pay a great deal."
With that statement, the being stepped through her door, and into her apartment.  She couldn't even remember stepping away from the door, yet now she sat back in her chair, as this, this thing, approached her.  It held out its hand, which held a large sack.  She reluctantly took the pouch, and looked inside.
To her amazement, within the pouch was a large chunk of what could only be Psionic metal, and several shadow gems.  Psionic metal, a rare and sentient metal, was often used to make enchanted weapons and armor.  To most, the metal would bond with the owner, not being able to be used by any other wielder until its owner was dead.  Many weapons made from this metal were even able to decide if a wielder was worthy of controlling it.  To her, and others with skill in Thaumancy, the metal was more powerful than anything else, able to respond to mental commands, and shape itself in accordance to their desire.  She already had two small pieces of Psionic metal, one in the form of a collar, which she used to protect herself.  The metal could respond to her needs fast enough that the collar was all the armor she needed, so long as she was aware of the attack.
The other piece she had, was in the form of a bracer.  From this she could form any tool she needed, and in times of combat, even form a second dagger.  These two pieces were given to her as a gift from her master, once she graduated to the rank of Infiltrator.  She had them appraised once, and found that the raw metal alone in those two small pieces cost several thousand Gold Crowns.  The chunk in the pouch now was easily twice the size of both pieces together.  This piece would be enough for her to complete her "Thaumancer Armor", a master Thaumancers pride and joy.  It would give her a second bracer, belt studs, and a head piece.  Thaumancers had no need for full body armor, when they had this much psionic metal on them.
The Shadow gems were another great prize.  Though she didn't have power over gems like a geomancer would, Shadow gems were able to hold complex enchantments, and maintain them much longer than normal.  With this many gems, she could finally finish her combat gear.  She had been searching for a long time for gems of this quality, that hadn't been enchanted already.
"This is half your payment, up front.  Once the job is done, the other half will be placed in your dead drop point, behind the Rusted Anchor."
Sharan hadn't remembered agreeing to take the job, but her mind went to the Psionic metal, and not the inconsistancy of her memory.  She didn't remember taking the strange amulet from the being, nor did she remember placing it around her neck.  By morning, she didn't even remember the visit, but only the job, and the payment.