Winter 35, 513 AV
Morning-Sunrise/7th Bell
Morning-Sunrise/7th Bell
The early morning streets had been scarcely populated with lingering traces of Sunberthian nightlife who sought to escape the morning daylight like frightened cockroaches. Daedlaus routinely made the morning stroll from his apartment in Daggerhand territory towards his Business Dagwood Metal everyday. His foot falls slowed to a halt as he found himself in front of the hang-mans gallows.
He stood at the steps of the gallow, his hands clutched behind his back, watching the debased corpse of a man impelled by daggers into the wooden gallows steps. Dae's attentive hazel eyes were beguiled away from the corpse by a rhythmically swaying noose above him. The noose ebbed like a pendulum in the winter breeze as if Dira's deathly grip pulled at the rope themselves in attempt to lure the life weary into an early meeting with Lhex. It was a noose made infamous, in his mind, during the Spring fires when which the city of anarchy rose up to rebel against the powerful threats that began to impose order onto chaos; the gallows where the city cheered the hanging of Robern "The Rotter" Dalagnar.
It was either out of fear or curious interest in who might observe the bodies that many people decided not to read from the note stabbed directly into the mans chest. Nevertheless, Daedalus along with several figures in hooded cloak stood still around the bodies. They all whispered soft curiosities towards one another in attempt to pry information from each other. "Never thought I'd see the day Ole'Red hand would be caught Red Handed." A cloaked man said silently to the intrigued collective. Daedalus had leaned in close to the impelled body to let his eyes graze over what was written.
"The time of the Daggerhands has passed..."
Daedalus read the words aloud which cause several men to look at him. He gripped the lapels of his wool coat to pull them closer together. It served to adjust the straps of his backpack, as well as keep himself warm from the slow falling snow. As he looked into the mans face, staring deep into the empty cavities that used to hold Rokan's eyes, he mused about the symbolism of it all. "Someone clearly loves the use of satire."
The metalsmith had lived in Daggerhand Territory long enough that he was apathetic towards the gang and its members. The gang who hassled him on his way to and from his home. In truth, Rokan's death gave Daedalus a certain amount of delight. "We can all agree he deserved this punishment, but who is the 'Hound'? Should we not thank the 'Good Samaritan'? " It was a sly question aimed to try to pry loose information from any talkative person. However, as expected, neither of the cloaked men spoke a word out.
He stood at the steps of the gallow, his hands clutched behind his back, watching the debased corpse of a man impelled by daggers into the wooden gallows steps. Dae's attentive hazel eyes were beguiled away from the corpse by a rhythmically swaying noose above him. The noose ebbed like a pendulum in the winter breeze as if Dira's deathly grip pulled at the rope themselves in attempt to lure the life weary into an early meeting with Lhex. It was a noose made infamous, in his mind, during the Spring fires when which the city of anarchy rose up to rebel against the powerful threats that began to impose order onto chaos; the gallows where the city cheered the hanging of Robern "The Rotter" Dalagnar.
It was either out of fear or curious interest in who might observe the bodies that many people decided not to read from the note stabbed directly into the mans chest. Nevertheless, Daedalus along with several figures in hooded cloak stood still around the bodies. They all whispered soft curiosities towards one another in attempt to pry information from each other. "Never thought I'd see the day Ole'Red hand would be caught Red Handed." A cloaked man said silently to the intrigued collective. Daedalus had leaned in close to the impelled body to let his eyes graze over what was written.
Robern is Dead.
The time of the Daggerhands has passed. With their leader gone and in the wake of the storm, Sunberth seeks new opportunity. Too long have we paid the price in blood and coin to Robern's muscle and too long have we allowed them to grow fat and confident in their control.
If you seek change, if you seek power beyond what the individual can give, if you seek control or the blood of Daggerhands on the frozen ground...then I have work for you.
A New Power is rising in Sunberth.
I have already dispatched one of Robern's generals. I alone claim the deathright for this act. My power is no myth and my goals are not meager. If you seek some throw against the fates or share my desire to reduce Robern's vacant empire to rubble...find me.
If you are skilled enough to follow the whispers, we will be in contact.
-Hound
"The time of the Daggerhands has passed..."
Daedalus read the words aloud which cause several men to look at him. He gripped the lapels of his wool coat to pull them closer together. It served to adjust the straps of his backpack, as well as keep himself warm from the slow falling snow. As he looked into the mans face, staring deep into the empty cavities that used to hold Rokan's eyes, he mused about the symbolism of it all. "Someone clearly loves the use of satire."
The metalsmith had lived in Daggerhand Territory long enough that he was apathetic towards the gang and its members. The gang who hassled him on his way to and from his home. In truth, Rokan's death gave Daedalus a certain amount of delight. "We can all agree he deserved this punishment, but who is the 'Hound'? Should we not thank the 'Good Samaritan'? " It was a sly question aimed to try to pry loose information from any talkative person. However, as expected, neither of the cloaked men spoke a word out.
