The Drow rogue had led Wuldin and I into Osgood’s warehouse. It was dim inside with a few flickering torches lighting a spacious entry hall. While Mirrix motioned for us to wait near the entry way, she had soundlessly padded up behind the one sentry inside. The man died without ever seeing who held the dagger that ended his life.
Now we stood inside an interior room while Mirrix moved in the shadows toward another sentry. This one had with him a strange metallic dog. It had faintly glowing reddish eyes and the dwarf turned to me and whispered, “The beast is ‘mechanical’.”
I had no idea what that meant.
Mirrix reached into a small pocket in her leather armor and produced a steel shuriken. She looked back at us to make sure we were ready, then she flipped the metal fragment onto the stones near some boxes off to the sentry’s right. The shuriken faintly clinked on the stones, but it was enough to attract the guard’s attention. He turned that way with a puzzled expression on his face. After a moment’s hesitation he walked toward the crates to investigate. That’s when Mirrix sprung into action and it was both wonderful and horrifying to behold.
In one hand the Drow held a jagged knife, in the other a short sword. She leaped into a roll that brought her within a few feet of the man who had his back to her as he examined behind the wooden crates. With blinding speed she impaled the guard through the lower back with the short sword and brought the dagger across his neck from behind. Gore splashed the nearby crates. The iron dog (later I’d learn that House Cannith created these iron ‘defenders’) became alert but Mirrix was already back-flipping across the stones back toward Wuldin and I.
We were ready; me with my great axe and Wuldin with his hammer. The iron defender clinked and clanked as it chased Mirrix and I brought my great axe down on its head. Wuldin smashed at its hind legs with his hammer. The metal beast groaned and crumpled and the reddish glow faded from its eyes.
What I felt that night I’ll always remember. I felt dirty. Watching those two men die at the hands of the Drow elf had me shaken. I turned away from my two companions and wretched on the cobblestone floor. I felt like crying.
When I had finished, Wuldin came to me and settled his gloved hand on my arm.
“We can turn back here.” There was great compassion in his eyes. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”
Mirrix was going through the pockets of the dead man and she turned and looked at me with hard eyes. Her disdain for my weak stomach was apparent.
The rogue pocketed a few coins, walked over to a door at the far end of the room and listened. Apparently satisfied there was no ambush waiting beyond the portal, she beckoned us forward and opened the door. Wuldin patted me on the shoulder and helped me to my feet. I took a deep breath and nodded. I wasn’t going to quit now.
We followed Mirrix through the door.