Rise of the Blade - Charles Moffat [24]
"Strange, it didn't effect your intelligence. You're still as dumb as ever!" The drow extinguished his cigar with the heel of his boot and bolted for the door with a vengeful Pierce in pursuit.
Even as he felt his hand wrap around the cloth of the mage's cloak, Pierce knew he wouldn't actually grip it. He slammed into the door with his momentum, letting out an "Oof!" He staggered back and the door opened.
Draque popped his head inside. "Nice new spell, eh? I call it Astral Jump. Lets you made a quick leap through the astral plane and come out on the other side of things. I developed it specifically to get around prismatic wall."
Ignoring his aching jaw, Pierce peered up at the drow mage. "You better cast one of those quick before I get my hands on you. You're gonna need all the walls you can-"
He stopped abruptly, knowing Draque was already gone. He smiled despite himself, knowing the threat had meant nothing. The drow would make a good bard considering his ability to cheer someone up.
Tonight, Pierce thought as he opened the door and climbed the stairs into the chill night air, was a night he needed to be cheered up. Gazing upwards into the heavens, the constellations of the gods' staring back down at him, the fighter again felt at peace.
Normally, in a city one could never see the stars that shone overhead due to the constant lights and sounds. Waterdeep was never quiet. Even in the middle of the night people walked the streets in drunken revelry. The Academy was the exception however, a powerful enchantment of Rambertz's keeping the stars shining above and the sounds of the city dulled until it was lost in the chirping of insects.
He took a step forward into the orchard and before he knew it he was wandering from one part to the next. A night not so long ago, he had felt this way. Empassioned with the seemingly mundane services he tried to uphold for the good of all people, and yet somehow at peace with the rest of the world. Stopping at a pool of water he looked down at the reflection of the stars captured in it.
He leaned over even farther and saw his weathered face and prematurely greying hair. He was getting old far too fast for his taste. He wasn't as strong as he used to be.
Running a hand through his grey temples, he stared into the basin. Chev had pushed him back easily in that test of strength and Pierce was still considered to be incredibly strong. He could have pushed back five years ago though. Could have beat Chev to a pulp.
He wasn't so sure now though. His foresight did strange things sometimes and even now, after years of learning how it worked, he still didn't have a clue sometimes.
Feeling the despair getting to him, he dunked his head in the cold water and then brought it back up. The icy cold water ran down his face and the back of his neck. A sliver of pain as he arched his back from the sudden sensation of water rolling down under his wool tunic.
Shaking his head, he ran his hands through his hair once more before looking in the basin. As the water stilled, despite drips landing in the water and causing tiny ripples, he saw a new image: He was young again. His hair was vibrant and dark brown, almost black. It was an illusion of course, a trick of the water and its ability to make wet hair look darker.
"Pierce?" It was Rambertz behind him.
"Good evening. Beautiful isn't it?"
"Not as beautiful as the sun in all of its glory," the drider responded.
The Doctor turned and flashed a knowing smile at the druid. Shaking his head, Pierce left the water basin and headed for the warmth of his room.
Vinci d'Or studied the racing horse from his seat beside the gatehouse of Bravepike Manor. He could see it coming from a half mile away, as soon as it had crested a hill and came charging down the roads straight for him. At first it had been a vague silhouette against the rising of the sun but as the man rode closer his features grew more distinct. "A messenger?"