Aryan Deshyr Ch. 1 - It Takes a Thief

         The moon was just coming up over the treeline when a hooded figured walked up a narrow dirt path leading to Shadow's End, a tavern on the outskirts of Ertona known for housing notorious felons and all manner of miscreant. Many of the guards that patrolled the area never even set foot inside it, fearing that they won't live long enough to take the foot back out. The figure only stopped briefly muster enough courage to enter.

         Reaching for the dull iron handle, the man opened the door and stepped inside and ,if he hadn't been there out of utter desperation, would have abruptly turned around and left. The few torches scattered throughout the establishment provided just enough light to show the walls, which were covered in either a black sludge, mold, splatters of blood or a combination of all three. The smell inside was a mixture of alcohol and death so strong that he could almost taste it.  The only saving grace was that it was fairly quiet, which makes sense since almost everyone, if not everyone in the bar wanted to keep their secrets and their conversations to themselves.

Cautiously not to disturb any of the rather terrifying looking patrons, the man made his way to the bar. Sitting down on a small wooden stool, the man gestured to the barkeep. The big man behind the counter walked over to the man.

“What'll it be?” asked the barkeep in a gruff voice, clearly not wanting to talk.

         The man leaned in close and whispered, “I'm finding myself in need of an individual who specializes in acquiring items of value, I don't suppose you could point to someone with such skills?”

The barkeep smirked, “Sir, if you're going to order something like that, it's customary to tip the server.”

The man slowly reached into his shirt and produced several gold pieces and laid them on the table, which in almost an instant were swept off the counter by the large man.

“There are several “individuals” with the skills you seek.”  The man pointed his large sausage finger at a rather menacing looking wolf-man, “Over there is Grent, he's not the greatest but gets the job done for cheap.”  Pointing to a rather flamboyant looking fox-man, “That's Flynn over there. He's a bit of a showboat, likes to parade about and brag about his jobs.”

The man spoke suddenly, interrupting the barkeep, “I'm looking for the best, the item I need will require nothing less.”

With  a grim face, not happy about being interrupted, the barkeep growls, “Well, in that case, you'd want Aryan Deshyr, he's descreet, professional and a master at his trade. However, he is very picky about the jobs he takes and expects to paid handsomely for the ones he does.” 

         The barkeep points to a rather empty section of the tavern, he manages to see through the darkness a man sitting against the wall with his feet resting on the table in front of him. The man stands up, thanks the barkeep and begins to walk over to the man.  He reached the border of the deserted area of the bar when he hears the man speak. His voice flowed like silk, not rough or crude, he spoke clearly and concisely, but had a certain undertone to it that portrayed that he was not a man to be trifled with.

“Stop right there. State your name and intent. If you come any closer without doing so, I'll just assume that you're here to try and kill me and react accordingly.”

The man stopped in his tracks, knowing that it wasn't an idle threat. Trying to muster a bit of confidence, the man muttered, “My name is Reil and I hear that you're the best at your trade in this establishment.”

The man turned his head towards the barkeep, who gave an approving nod.

“Lower your hood so I can see your face, I never deal with anyone who won't and keep your hands where I can see them at all times if you don't want bad things to happen.”

         The man slowly reaches up and lowers his hood, showing his face. His pale skin seems almost sickly in the poor lighting and his hair is is pitch black and hung down to his shoulders and was done up in a ponytail. Despite his face looking like that of a young man, only in his early 20's, his eyes were sharp and showed great wisdom behind them.  With both hands suspended in the air, he walked slowly towards the table and sat down, placing his hands on the tabletop.

The man, whom he still couldn't make out from beneath his hood, removed his feet from the table and rested his elbows on it in their place.

“Now, what can I do for you Reil?” he asked.

“I need something recovered for me, an artifact that was stolen from my vault.” Reil was trying to leave out as many minute details as possible until he has the man in his employment and could have kicked himself for saying that he had a vault.

“What kind of artifact? We talking family heirloom?,” the man leaned a bit closer and whispered, “or magical?”

Reil only nodded at the question, seeing a small spark of intrigue beginning to form in the rogue.

“Traffis! Me and this young man are going in the back, we have business to discuss in private. If anyone tries to listen in, kill them.” The man yelled across the bar to the barkeep, who only nodded in response. The man then stands up and walks through a dark doorway.

“You coming?” he yells back to Reil, whom stammers to his feet and quickly follows after. Once through the doorway the man closes the door and sits down at the table in the center of the room. Reil follows suit, still keeping his hands within eyesight.

“Now, what kind of magic we talking about? Good kind, bad kind, cursed, holy, demonic? What kind?” the man asks.

“It's an artifact called the Eye of Tessall, it's an orb that was crafted by the high wizards of the Old Times and contains all the arcane knowledge of the Archmagus, Vendrik Tessall. It was stolen from me by a cult devoted to the resurrection of the dark god, Bovin.” 

“Let me stop you there, first off, how did you come to have an item like that in your personal vault and how exactly do you know all this about who stole it?” asked the man

Reil sighed and lowered his head, “I'm not at liberty to say anything about either of those.”

“Well then, I'm not at liberty to hear any more of your job.” the man stated as he begins to stand up.

“Wait, fine, I'll tell you, but you have to give your guarantee that what I say to you will not leave this room.”  The man relaxed and nodded in agreement. “Well, it's not my personal vault, it's the vault owned by the Magi Council, and I know so much about who took it because I was the one who helped them take it. I didn't know what the artifact was beforehand, they told me it was an object that was once owned by Bovin and they wanted for religious purposes. That and they were going to pay me exceedingly well for it, only after they had it did I find out that they were going to try and use it to revive Bovin.” Reil finished his explanation with a sigh, “Then when I finally handed it over to them, they captured me and tried to enslave me with some rather nasty magic, luckily I had this,” he takes off his necklace, it is a simple leather strap but has a small stone with a magical rune engraved on it. “I made this ward to protect against any type of mind altering magic.”

The man leaned in closer, “Tell me where I can find this orb and where to deliver it to once I've gotten it, also, give me that talisman.” he held out his hand, which Reil pulled away from.

“Why would you want my talisman?” he asked, clearly nervous.

“If this cultist can use magic that alters the mind, I think it rather useful to have something to fend it off, that and we'll call it collateral until I'm paid for the job.” 

Reil reluctantly places the amulet in the man's hands. Who moves his hands and it disappears from sight.

“Now let's talk about price. Something like this won't be cheap, even by my standards.”

Reil flinched a bit, he knew he was terrible at haggling and the thief knew he was desperate.

“Name your price.”

Even hidden by darkness he could tell that made the man smiled, “Ten thousand gold pieces.”

Reil's jaw almost hit the ground, that kind of money would rival that of a small kingdom, but he knew deep down that he could afford it if he had to.

“That's absurd! I will pay five thousand and no more.” He said sternly.

“Eight thousand and I keep the necklace.” the man responds hastily, clearly a master of this skill as well.

Reil sighed, knowing that it was useless to keep going on if the necklace was in the equation, “Fine, ten thousand gold pieces it is.”

The man extended his hand and lowered his hood, showing his face. He was a human with almost luminescent green eyes and a sharp face. Reil was taken back by the fact that this man looked no more than 25. Even his hairstyle portrayed his age.  Reil grabbed his hand and shook it.

The man smiles and said happily, “Aryan Deshyr. At your service. Now tell me where I can find this thing.”