Thurnas Netmaster staggered into the compound supported by one of his remaining men. He had taken a vicious slash from one of the Sheik’s retainers and had lost a lot of blood. Fortunately the hour was late, so aside from the shocked guardsmen who had hastily opened the gate to the bazaar, no one witnessed his rather unceremonious return from the night’s events.
What was supposed to have been an ambush perpetrated by the slavers out at the old obelisk had instead turned into a slaughter. The Sheik’s men had materialized like ghosts, surrounding the slavers as they lay in wait. A pitched battle had ensued, and Thurnas had lost most of the gnoll mercenaries as well as his own hired muscle. Only he and a pair of his followers had managed to escape, and at great cost.
Thurnas knew that he had to have the wound tended to soon or risk bleeding out. “Khalim”, he shouted hoarsely at the man who was not supporting him, “Get to Hogan’s and see if that old rogue will sell you some healing potions. I know he keeps some on reserve…”
The slaver gasped in sudden pain as he lost his balance, crashing into the door frame as he and the remaining guard entered the Sandvoyager’s Guild. “Careful you inbred jackal” he cursed at the man “Get me to my room without killing me if you are able, and then secure the compound… see who we have left. Check below and inform our allies as to what has transpired. The situation here might now be untenable”.
Without a word in reply, the guard nodded and shifted his shoulders, to give Thurnas better support. On any other night, one or both of them might have noticed that the guild hall was unusually empty and silent, with no sign of even the several slaves who took care of the menial tasks.
Thurnas did however notice that the door to his chamber was open ever so slightly, and he could have sworn he had closed and locked it before they had departed an hour earlier. It was a fleeting thought, overshadowed by the pain and increasing light-headedness he was feeling, a result of blood loss he knew.
Shoving the door open, the man supporting Thurnas took two steps into the chamber before an arrow caught him in the throat. He collapsed with a choking gurgle, clutching futiley at the shaft as he drowned in his own blood.
Thurnas was too weak to stand, and fell to his knees as he drew his scimitar, nearly crying out in agony as he did so. His eyes widened in shock and disbelief as he took in the figure who now slowly lowered his bow and drew his own blade, advancing with deadly intent towards the stricken slaver.
" Barus Broadblade … but… you are dead…"