Deneve emerged from a tavern known as the Rusty Ram, clutching her aching head and moaning softly. A dozen or so silver pieces clinked loudly inside the purse strapped around her waist as she stumbled along the dusty street. It took all her concentration not to trip over her own feet. She couldn't recall where the rest of her group went—nor did she particularly care.
All she wanted right now was to find her bed and sleep off whatever evil spirit currently inhabited her skull.
How did she end up here again? Everything remained somewhat...fuzzy...after her bout against those three guards from earlier. She barely even remembered losing the competition...only vaguely recalling some taunts from onlookers...and someone...championing her against...what was it? Hopefully she hadn't pissed off anybody important during her drunken binge.
The details of that conversation still evaded her, despite the incessant prodding she attempted to provoke from the memory. Her mouth tasted disgusting, too—as if someone had fed her something revolting—though what, she couldn't recall either.
Well, whatever.
As Deneve wobbled her way down a quiet roadway towards the inn where they'd arranged lodgings, she bumped into something large and bulky—someone else traveling through this stretch of cobblestones. A powerful hand grasped her by the shoulder, arresting her momentum.
"Oof!" she muttered.
Dazed, she blinked several times before looking up at the person who'd halted her progress. An unfamiliar face peered back at her; an imposing figure whose mouth twitched into an amused smirk as they noticed her confused state.
"You seem...out of sorts. Careful now," the man admonished, his voice soft and kind. His grip on her arm lessened as he stepped back, allowing Deneve to steady herself. He was tall and broad-shouldered—though his armor hid much of his build from view. "Didn't you Silverguards learn to watch where you're going? Especially here in a bustling city like this one."
He tilted his head and laughed softly. "I wouldn't want to see you injuring yourself...or anyone else...by colliding with them like a rolling stone."
Deneve gaped at him for a moment before clearing her throat. Her eyes squinted as she struggled to focus. She managed to discern he was dressed in an ornate red and gold armored robe...a battlemage from the Order of the Burning Shield? He wasn't anyone she'd fought against in the past. But his armor gave her a good guess at his power.
She steadied herself and folded her arms defensively. "I'm...fine. Just...a bit...hungover..." she murmured, waving him off. "Anyway...who the hell are you?" she asked bluntly. "Are you some sort of bodyguard?"
"Bodyguard? No." The man chuckled good-naturedly as he pointed to a figure clad in heavy plate armor and wielding a halberd who stood a short distance behind him. "He's my bodyguard."
The figure inclined his helmeted head at the two before resuming his watchful stance. The mage grinned as he patted Deneve's shoulder. "I'm more interested in talking with you and your friends..." His smile faded. "Perhaps a bit too much, but nonetheless...if you find the time..." He paused before adding, "My name is Ardeunius. Perhaps you've heard of me?"
Deneve stiffened involuntarily as she processed Ardeunius's name.
Yes, she knew his reputation. His past deeds proved legendary: winning battles without drawing his blade, taking down enemies three times his size using nothing but magic and his wits. Some even called him a master tactician and a prodigy amongst the Order's ranks. His name itself invoked awe among those who'd heard of his deeds. Even in her dazed state, Deneve wasn't going to test the mettle of such a famed hero.
Not that she was particularly confident in her own fighting prowess at the moment. She could barely stay on her feet!
"Nah..." Deneve feigned indifference as she continued her path toward the inn. She avoided his gaze as she stumbled past. "I ain't interested in talkin'. Got stuff to do."
As she continued onward, she could still feel Ardeunius watching her leave. She did her best to ignore him as she walked. There was no way in hell she wanted to suffer through whatever questions he'd throw at her. For one—she had no idea how to answer them. For two—she wanted nothing to do with such a renowned hero.
At least nothing concerning her personal affairs. Better to play dumb than risk his scorn.
"Another time then," he called after her, his tone amused and laced with mirth. "We'll find you later—you're quite noticeable, after all."
Deneve simply grunted as she entered the inn's front door. She trudged upstairs towards her room and threw open the door, locking it behind her. Then she collapsed face-down on the bed and closed her eyes. Within moments, she'd passed out from exhaustion.
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Deneve's eyes snapped open as she sensed a killing intent directed at her. Before she could react, a firm grip snared her by the ankle and pulled her violently from her bed. A tremendous amount of force sent her sailing through the air, tumbling head over heels before slamming into the wall with a deafening thud.
"Urgh—who the—!?" Deneve rolled to her feet and shook off the dizziness as her vision blurred and spun. A shadowy figure appeared before her; a dagger flashed, whistling toward her face.
Instinctively, she raised her hand to deflect the attack—just barely managing to grab hold of her assailant's wrist and prevent him from stabbing her with his blade.
A short struggle ensued. The intruder twisted violently, trying to pry free of her grasp. He managed to wrest one hand free and grabbed her neck. She couldn't see his face as he forced her back against the wall with inhuman strength. With her other hand, she punched the intruder's side several times—though he showed no reaction to her blows.
Deneve channelled her inner power to focus her mind and energy. She clenched her fist, activating her Mystic Rite, causing a red aura to shimmer across her skin. She bashed the intruder with her glowing hand, smashing him hard in the face. The impact knocked him back, releasing her neck from his iron grip.
She glared at him as her vision adjusted. He appeared to be wearing a mask—a plain featureless one with no visible eye slits. She lunged at him, driving him back towards the window.
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He slashed at her with his dagger, but she ducked under the blow and landed a powerful kick to his chest, sending him flying backwards and smashing through the window in an explosion of glass and wood. She heard him tumbling across the rooftop below with a thud before crashing onto the street.
Deneve reached under her bed, grabbing her twin scimitars. Then she rushed over to the shattered window and jumped through the gaping hole after her assailant.
Whoever this asshole was...they weren't getting away without a fight. She landed smoothly and rolled onto her feet, her eyes scanning for her opponent. She spotted him picking himself up and turning to face her. Deneve wasted no time closing the distance between them.
He quickly threw something in the air that exploded into smoke and obscured their vision. In the haze, he rushed towards her, aiming another swing with his blade. She parried the attack easily. He made no attempt to follow up; instead opting to retreat further into the smoke.
"That all ya got?" Deneve growled, sneering. "Come on, you sonuvabitch." She attempted to pinpoint where he'd disappeared into the murk by listening to his footsteps. She circled cautiously, waiting for any movement.
Suddenly she felt something wrapped around her legs—like vines encircling her limbs. The sensation traveled up her body, squeezing tighter as they went. Before she knew what happened, the binds immobilized her. She looked down, spotting a dark shape clinging to her legs. An enemy spell?
Her Mystic Rites activated instinctively, filling her with energy and strength. She pried the vines off her legs and managed to sever them with her scimitars. Before she could move, several more emerged from the thick mist surrounding them. They crawled upward towards her head and wrapped around her wrists, forcing her hands apart and forcing her to drop her scimitars.
More appeared from the floor below and entangled her feet together. As soon as they restrained her body completely, a figure stepped from the smog.
Deneve stared at the person before her. A figure wearing black robes and a plain mask. Nothing distinguished their appearance whatsoever—not their gender or even their species. The figure remained motionless for several long seconds, their body relaxed and ready. As the seconds dragged on, Deneve began to grow anxious.
"What's the matter...cat got your tongue?" she growled sarcastically, hoping to goad him into revealing something useful. The figure's response was to lift their right hand, revealing a thin metal rod held loosely between its fingers. The tip glowed brightly as arcane runes flared to life along its length.
Deneve eyed the object warily.
The figure lowered their hand slightly, pointing the wand towards Deneve.
With the crackle of a thunderbolt and a rush of displaced air, Lorne materialized beside the masked assassin. In a smooth motion, he pulled his sword from its sheath and struck the figure with a swift blow to the side. The masked person stumbled back in pain and shock as their spell connecting to Deneve fizzled out.
The two faced each other; Lorne held his sword at the ready, while the figure stood a short distance away clutching their ribs. A brief moment passed as each sized the other up.
Lorne's gaze flicked towards Deneve. "Who'd you piss off this time?" he asked, grinning. "Someone out for revenge?"
Deneve shook her head. "I didn't do anything this time, I swear! Well—at least I don't think I did. This guy just came out of nowhere and started trying to murder me!"
Lorne returned his focus to the masked figure. "Alright then..." He raised his blade to shoulder level, aiming the tip towards him. "This is your warning. Get lost before things get worse."
The masked figure clutched their wand tightly in one hand. They hesitated briefly before turning and fleeing towards an alleyway, their cloak flapping behind them. Lorne made no effort to pursue, his stance unchanging. He waited until he couldn't hear the figure's footsteps anymore before he turned towards Deneve.
"That could've ended differently..." Deneve breathed a sigh of relief as Lorne released the mystical restraints. He stepped back as she gingerly rose to her feet.
"Yeah..." Lorne nodded. He frowned as he took in her disheveled appearance. "You alright? What happened?"
"I don't know! That asshole jumped me while I was sleeping." She frowned, rubbing her bruised neck.
From across the street, Roderick, Kaela, and Simon also approached the pair. Kaela tsked as she spotted the broken window.
"You're paying for that," she chastised. "If not with gold then with favors."
"Hey..." Deneve shot her an irritated glare. "I wasn't expecting to be attacked!"
Roderick rubbed his temples. "Now, now, girls...there's no need to argue. We can work out the details later. We should focus on figuring out what happened." He turned to Lorne. "Could you perhaps recognize who they might be? Someone you know or someone we've had contact with?"
Lorne shook his head. "They were masked and hooded...and beneath their robes, they wore enchanted armor. Otherwise, my blade would've cleaved them in half."
"So...it seems you pissed off someone rich...powerful...and vengeful..." Roderick gave a slight shake of his head.
Deneve balked. "I told you! I didn't piss anyone off!"
"Maybe...just a case of mistaken identity? Perhaps an enemy who looks like you?" Kaela suggested.
"Damnit! I don't have any enemies!" Deneve snarled. "If I did, I'd beat their asses till they couldn't sit for a month."
Kaela chuckled dryly. "I've no doubt." Her eyes glinted mischievously. "Or maybe you stole something valuable without realizing..."
Deneve frowned deeply and scratched the back of her head. "Not to my knowledge..." She stopped short as the image of her tussling with a trio of guards from the previous night surfaced from her memory. She muttered to herself quietly as she ran a hand through her disheveled hair.
"Hmm...something you want to share with the class?" Kaela arched a brow. "I won't judge...much."
Deneve glanced nervously between Kaela and the others. "Uhh...maybe..."
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Roderick slumped into the cushioned chair at his desk and ran his fingers through his graying hair. He had managed to appease the inn owner into letting them stay one more night (mostly through gold—coincidentally the currency Deneve had obtained from her previous bout). With the assurance that repairs would be paid for promptly—along with the guarantee of a hefty tip on top—the owner agreed to turn a blind eye to their temporary renovations.
The encounter had cost him precious time—he had hoped to set off to visit several potential trading partners today. Yet in the current situation, the threat against Deneve's life and the party's current anonymity prevented such action. Not until they figured out the situation at hand—and properly prepared against any follow-ups—would he be willing to step out again.
From the other room, the sounds of Lorne, Kaela, and Deneve arguing filtered through.
Roderick sighed tiredly. It seemed that they still couldn't find any evidence that could hint to Deneve's attackers or their possible motives. Thus far, the best theorized option stemmed from Lorne's suggestion—an enemy mistaking her for a target. Or perhaps she'd stolen something without knowing or enraged a criminal gang while inebriated.
The Silverguards didn't usually go out of their way to make enemies. Usually.
Deneve wasn't one for making a lasting impression...except for her penchant for finding trouble and creating scenes. But she never sought to be malicious. She stuck with her family—the Silverguards. Sometimes a little too closely, considering her troublemaking ways.
She rarely conned anyone. Never mugged others. Acted more like a mischievous younger sister than an actual threat. Generally harmless. When someone struck the first blow, she didn't hesitate to retaliate. Still...to send an assassin after her like this? Highly unusual.
A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Simon appeared shortly afterwards.
"Roderick," he began, "Ardeunius wants to speak with you. He's waiting downstairs."