Mordheim

OLDCLAW'S EVENING OUT
By [email protected]

It was raining, that kind of drizzle which soaks you to the skin. Nothing moved except a stealthy looking figure. A closer examination could reveal trembling whiskers.

A little sound is heard and in a flash there appear 2 mean looking blades in the figures hands. They glisten black in the rain. The figure looks around and then moves across the street towards the
shadows. He moves so fast, that a blink of an eye is enough to make you miss him. He stealthy moves towards some distant sounds and lights...

"So this is the place-place I heard about," thought Oldclaw, one hand constant on his weapons. He tried to decipher the writings on the building above the door. The Mankin's writing was strange, but not unreadable: "Twisted Goat".

This ought to be the place anyone could enter and have a good time... "Hhhmm, i smell-smell breeders!"

Slightly distracted, Oldclaw heard the stealthy footsteps almost to late. As he turned, he pulled both blades. One he held close as defence, the other already lashing at the yet unseen enemy. He could see a caped figure wielding one slim blade, but with such speed and grace it could be 2. Blows were dealt and parried over and forth. Both figures started to breath more deeply, but the swordfight continued. Suddenly the caped figure launched a strike and Oldclaw parried with both blades. When they parted again, Oldclaw's right leg almost gave way. From under the cape came the figures left hand, holding a bloody stiletto now... Just as Oldclaw wanted to use something special, the cloaked figure spook: "Your doomed rat! The stiletto was coated with black lotus, you will die within seconds... A glow appeared in Oldclaw's eyes, "That may be-be stranger, but i will be not-not the only one-one. Look at-at you sword hand." The figure looked at his hand and as it was the signal... fell to the ground. Oldclaw reached into his pouch and pulled out a small vile. He quickly drank the antidote.

While searching for valuables, Oldclaw again smiled as he saw the little knick his blade made on the man's finger. Only his natural resistance made it possible, to hold out against the poison long enough, to get the antidote in time. Carrying the fine blade, some coin and a new cloak Oldclaw hasted himself back to his lair. Maybe he would visit that place again, might even wander in. "Twisted Goat..", he thought as he disappeared into the rain....