Finarfin
Habitué
- Messages
- 125
Luke, Halfling Fighter: Part 14 – Tomb of King Strohm III
Later that evening, as Luke was drinking at the Copper Coronet, a woman named Samia stopped by and asked for his help in retrieving treasure from the tomb of some long-dead king. It sounded like a welcome change of pace after last night’s Valygar body-stitching experience.
Once inside the tomb, Luke dispatched all of its guardians with ease. After looting the king’s resting place, he made his way back toward the entrance where Samia had promised to meet him. She was waiting there — with her own party.
The place was deathly quiet, save for the slow rhythm of water dripping somewhere in the darkness. Each drop echoed: drip… pause… splash.
Samia greeted him with a thin smile:
“Greetings, Luke, and congratulations on getting the treasure. Now, if you hand it over — along with your coin and that fancy belt — everyone leaves here alive.”
Luke looked unconcerned. His gaze measured each of his opponents one by one, calm confidence radiating from him. He replied evenly:
“What makes you think you can defeat me, when I so easily dealt with the guardians?”
Even as he spoke, his fingers worked silently, slipping three darts into each hand.
Samia’s smirk widened.
“You’re tired from fighting. We are six — armed adventurers. And you… you have only your darts and your fists. You don’t stand a chance. You have no weapon, my friend.”
Luke smiled back.
“But my friend… I am the weapon.”
Another drop fell. Time seemed to hold its breath as it hung in the air.
When the splash finally came, five bodies hit the floor with it:
The sixth dart had found its mark as well. Samia stood frozen, stunned, her body refusing to move except her mouth. Her voice trembled:
“What… what happened? Who the hell are you?”
Luke did not answer. He only stepped over the first corpse.
“Wait, Luke — I have money. More than you can count. It’s all yours, just spare me!”
“I can count pretty well,” Luke said, stepping over the second body. This one was still twitching. He flicked another dart into it without breaking stride.
“I am the daughter of Cyrus Silverpocket, guildmaster of the Shadow Thieves!”
"I am new in town, name like that doesn't ring a bell" replied Luke.
"You can’t hurt me. He’ll hunt you down!" cried Samia
“We can only hope,” Luke murmured, smiling as he stepped over the third body.
Say one thing for Luke—he does not fear names.
Samia’s fear grew with each step, her eyes widening, breath quickening.
“Please… please, I’m begging you! I don't want to die”
Luke finally stopped, standing only a few feet away. He looked at her as if she were already another body on the floor. He twirled the last dart between his fingers, the movement lazy, casual—like he was thinking about whether to toss away a pebble.
“Funny thing,” Luke said, voice low. “Every time someone begs me like that, they’re never begging for their life. They’re begging for a chance to betray me later.”
Samia shook her head frantically. “No! No, I swear, I’ll vanish from Athkatla. You’ll never see me again—”
Luke stood next to her, so their eyes met. His were calm, cold, the eyes of someone who’d already decided.
“Oh, you will vanish alright,” he said softly. “But not the way you think.”
Her mouth opened to scream. The dart flicked once, almost invisible, and the sound that followed wasn’t her scream at all—it was the single hollow plink of the water drop landing in the puddle.
When the ripples stilled, Samia lay across it, eyes staring blankly at the cavern ceiling.
Luke rose, brushing the dust from his hands as if the entire fight had been a small inconvenience. He didn’t even look back as he walked toward the tomb’s exit, the silence broken only by the steady, patient dripping of water.
Later that evening, as Luke was drinking at the Copper Coronet, a woman named Samia stopped by and asked for his help in retrieving treasure from the tomb of some long-dead king. It sounded like a welcome change of pace after last night’s Valygar body-stitching experience.
Once inside the tomb, Luke dispatched all of its guardians with ease. After looting the king’s resting place, he made his way back toward the entrance where Samia had promised to meet him. She was waiting there — with her own party.
The place was deathly quiet, save for the slow rhythm of water dripping somewhere in the darkness. Each drop echoed: drip… pause… splash.
Samia greeted him with a thin smile:
“Greetings, Luke, and congratulations on getting the treasure. Now, if you hand it over — along with your coin and that fancy belt — everyone leaves here alive.”
Luke looked unconcerned. His gaze measured each of his opponents one by one, calm confidence radiating from him. He replied evenly:
“What makes you think you can defeat me, when I so easily dealt with the guardians?”
Even as he spoke, his fingers worked silently, slipping three darts into each hand.
Samia’s smirk widened.
“You’re tired from fighting. We are six — armed adventurers. And you… you have only your darts and your fists. You don’t stand a chance. You have no weapon, my friend.”
Luke smiled back.
“But my friend… I am the weapon.”
Another drop fell. Time seemed to hold its breath as it hung in the air.
When the splash finally came, five bodies hit the floor with it:
“What… what happened? Who the hell are you?”
Luke did not answer. He only stepped over the first corpse.
“Wait, Luke — I have money. More than you can count. It’s all yours, just spare me!”
“I can count pretty well,” Luke said, stepping over the second body. This one was still twitching. He flicked another dart into it without breaking stride.
“I am the daughter of Cyrus Silverpocket, guildmaster of the Shadow Thieves!”
"I am new in town, name like that doesn't ring a bell" replied Luke.
"You can’t hurt me. He’ll hunt you down!" cried Samia
“We can only hope,” Luke murmured, smiling as he stepped over the third body.
Say one thing for Luke—he does not fear names.
Samia’s fear grew with each step, her eyes widening, breath quickening.
“Please… please, I’m begging you! I don't want to die”
Luke finally stopped, standing only a few feet away. He looked at her as if she were already another body on the floor. He twirled the last dart between his fingers, the movement lazy, casual—like he was thinking about whether to toss away a pebble.
“Funny thing,” Luke said, voice low. “Every time someone begs me like that, they’re never begging for their life. They’re begging for a chance to betray me later.”
Samia shook her head frantically. “No! No, I swear, I’ll vanish from Athkatla. You’ll never see me again—”
Luke stood next to her, so their eyes met. His were calm, cold, the eyes of someone who’d already decided.
“Oh, you will vanish alright,” he said softly. “But not the way you think.”
Her mouth opened to scream. The dart flicked once, almost invisible, and the sound that followed wasn’t her scream at all—it was the single hollow plink of the water drop landing in the puddle.
When the ripples stilled, Samia lay across it, eyes staring blankly at the cavern ceiling.
Luke rose, brushing the dust from his hands as if the entire fight had been a small inconvenience. He didn’t even look back as he walked toward the tomb’s exit, the silence broken only by the steady, patient dripping of water.
