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D&D Campaigns => Eberron => In Character Discussions => Topic started by: Johan on November 16, 2008, 03:26:57 PM

Title: 12.27.2132 - Making Other People's Decisions
Post by: Johan on November 16, 2008, 03:26:57 PM
Temmit was tired to the point of exhaustion, but he was determined, and recently caffeinated. Smokey was a silent observer.

He hauled Damien out from his bedroom and as quickly as possible to the kitchen. There he set his jaw, and brought to mind the violation that Damien had visited upon Leslie.

He had no moral issue with what he had decided to do, and the darker part of his mind - the one that concerned itself with vengeance and the more malicious side of justice, entertained the notion of waking the bastard up, so that he would know what was about to happen.

But there was no logic in that. It was a notion born of emotion…anger, to be specific. And this doing he had convinced himself to be of value from a logical perspective; that part of him that he valued the most.

Temmit removed those clothes that covered his torso, and he donned a dirty apron that hung in the kitchen to protect himself as much as possible from the impending spatter of blood. He positioned Damien near the trash shaft and put a number of thick cloths under him. It was in so doing that Temmit noted the string that encircled Damien’s neck.

Temmit pulled the string, and it was immediately clear that there was something attached to it beneath Damien’s shirt. Something that seemed pretty intent on staying below Damien’s shirt. Temmit worked at it, his curiosity aroused. Whatever was attached to the string was metal, flat, and round. After a few more moments, the pendant sprang loose from Damien’s shirt, revealing a medal that had an embossed spire in the middle. To the right of the spire was a field that depicted the night sky, a full moon and stars along side, and a prominent open eye in the near field. To the left of the spire was depicted a day sky, with the sun and sparse clouds in the far field, and a closed eye in the near field.

Temmit stopped short. His jaw hanged flaccid, his breathing stopped, and his heart raced.

“A Shield.” Smokey whispered…it was clear that the crystal was as stunned as Temmit was.

“Yeah.” Temmit said aloud.

“An Outland Patrol Shield.”


“But Damien had an Outlands Patrol Shield.”
“Yes. He sure did.”

“Why? How?”

“I don’t know yet.”

The world seemed to halt for Temmit as he and Smokey reiterated this notion over and over. Damien Starke was in possession of an Outlands Patrol Shield. Part of the young man thought that it would be best now to keep Damien alive, to ask him questions. But then cold reason suggested that any answers that Damien might give were suspect at best. Complete lies as often as not. He would confuse matters more than anything. And just because he was tied up, blindfolded, and gagged, didn’t mean that he would be a docile and compliant prisoner. He would still be dangerous indeed. And should he escape…the risks greatly outweighed the potential benefits of keeping him alive.

Damien in possession of a Shield, and also looking for the names of Whisper members, might easily explain how the Karh’Thul knew which particular kids to target. And not only that, but other theories of Temmit’s tightened considerably.

Where would Damien have gotten a shield? Well, who could reasonably be expected to own one? Based upon what Temmit had learned over the last few weeks there were two obvious options: on one hand, they might have inherited it. On the other hand, there was the church. Fresenius, that’s who.

The Medallion fairly bristled with energy in Temmit’s hands. He knew that Damien owned this Medallion. He could feel the villain’s mind upon it. Even if Temmit had found this Medallion in a back alley in Shantytown, he would know that it had belonged to Damien Starke. He didn’t know how he knew it, but there was a deep-seated conviction there. He needed to explore this sensation, and especially with respect to this Medallion…who owned it before Damien did? He knew the answer lay deep in the metal of the Mark.

“So do we keep Damien alive?” Smokey asked.

Temmit had already answered that question for himself: “No.”

A quick, forceful thrust of Damien’s own masterwork dagger separated the villain’s vertebrae and with relatively little work Temmit was able to decapitate him. The head fell unceremoniously into the sink. Damien had already lost a great deal of blood, so the ordeal wasn’t as messy as it might have been. It was messy enough, though, and Temmit had to command his stomach to settle; an image of Leslie, bound, gagged, and bruised, helped Temmit’s resolve considerably.

He shoved Damien’s body down the shaft, and ran water into the sink, rinsing the blood down the drain as well. He rinsed his hands and cleaned the dagger.

Thankfully, Damien’s head fit nicely into the sack of salt that Temmit had brought along for the purpose. He made sure that the salt covered the entire head, as it would preserve the head a bit, and keep the stench down. It was a cinch that they wouldn’t be able to deal with it tonight, so this would keep it viable for a day or three until they could get done what they needed to get done.

His grisly work completed, Temmit took off his apron and threw it down the shaft, donning his clothes once again. He hefted the sack, as well as the dagger and headed back to the warehouse.
Title: 12.27.2132 - Making Other People's Decisions
Post by: Johan on November 16, 2008, 11:34:20 PM
edited and updated
Title: 12.27.2132 - Making Other People's Decisions
Post by: Dray on November 17, 2008, 12:12:33 PM