It barely made a sound. It never did. At least not till it connected. Sometimes it sounded like someone hitting a pillow. Sometimes it hit bone and you can't describe the sound, or rather you don't want to. But if the shot was true, that's the only sound you would hear. If it wasn't, the gurgles and screams would haunt your nightmares for weeks at a time. But it had been 30 years since that decision on the hillside, and the halfling holding a bow stepped from the shadows to check his handy work. Moonlight caught the green flecks in his eyes as he pulled his arrow from the farmer, but not much else. His face was emotionless. He was just going through the motions at this point. Decisions had a habit of weighing on you, but Chresh had deliberately made so many like these. The mercenary life. He didn't even know what the farmer did, other than he was paid to do a job. He stopped asking questions years ago. They were a bastard offshoot of the Flaming Fist. What he didn't know at the time, but knew now (but didn't quite matter anymore) was they weren't just an offshoot. They were disgraced. They were washed out or ruined mercenaries, that took things too far, or tried to skim too much off the top of a job. Unscrupulous, underhanded, and deadly, The Empty Hand, as they called themselves. Empty hands, because after they were done with a job, those they dispatched had nothing left to hold. Murderers. That has been his life. Wake up, finish the job, get paid, and repeat. He didn't interact with anyone if he could help it. He had long stopped trusting anyone in the group. It was the last bastion of sanity he could hold onto. If he didn't make friends, in his mind, he wasn't one of them. Keep them at a distance. He could deal with his thoughts during the day. The weight of his decisions always crushed in on him at night, threatening to suffocate him. Chresh woke quickly, gasping for air. The nightmare again. It was the same one he had off an on for years. That night.
In the early days when he was low on the pecking order, he was the cook. The leader, a smarmy but charismatic half elf named Doggo seemed like a nice man in his big floppy hat and googles. His personality was so big, he seemed to sparkle when he monologued. He could talk his way out of almost anything, almost. He had a skill of being able to find a use for anyone. Efficiency. Despite being a group of miscreants, Doggo had a way of making it work. He should have been a politician because he was a gifted liar. They had their own code, and while ruthless and deadly, he found a way to sate the darkest desires of them all. He kept a decent sized crew, but his trusted group small. The faces changed somewhat often, but the core always seemed the same. Those early days seemed like an adventure...at first. Chresh was running from his problems and while so many different people came through the Coast Way, from half elves, dragonborn, and gnomes, he never really had many dealings outside of his race. Until that night along the path, he didn't have much knowledge of magic, or it's application. Naive and in over his head, Chresh didn't know it. Doggo took an immediate interest in him, calling him special, making him feel like he had a place among the crew, even if at first it was the gopher and the cook. Doggo liked Halflings. He called them his lucky charms.
He had been away from home for 5 years, and hadn't seen the Coast Way for years. The Empty Hand wasn't welcome near Baldur's Gate, and he found out why that night. He was kicked awake, a hand cupped over his mouth. Doggo signaled with his finger over his lips. Chresh nodded his agreement and quietly slid out of his bedding in the encampment. He walked behind them to a clearing, in the bright moonlight he could just make out a man bound on the ground. He stopped short as the man started to become agitated seeing the group return. Doggo had his back to Chresh starting to pontificate as he had a habit of doing.
"I love the night," everyone around him nodded their approval, "I get to be myself. Life is a stage and I get tired of acting." Nods and giggles again, but this time as those around him started to glance at Chresh. He skipped and galloped around the clearing, occasionally smacking the back of the head of the man on the ground, "the night just seems magical. The night gets overlooked. But when you've lived as long as I have, you learn to appreciate the little things, like nights like these. We get to usher in new members of our little group." His eyes leveled at Chresh, and his demeanor changed. He took a deep breath and smiled, "Have a seat, Lucky Charm!" Uneasy, the halfling took a seat on the ground, making sure to keep a healthy distance from the man bound in front of them. Doggo started prancing again, heartily putting his arms around his most trusted friends, "Did you know our lucky charm is more than he seems? I mean more than an obedient, eager pup?" His eyes leveled on him again, "He's been touched by providence. More than just lucky, he has a secret he's buried deep inside him...a flame as it were." His grin was alarming, menacing and unlike any he'd seen on Doggo's face. A flame? Confusion set in. He was always vague about his upbringing, and never once to anyone talked about why he left the Gate. But he knew! "You look confused, Chresh! Was it my phrasing? Was I too vague? Or you're unsure how I know you were touched by magic? It's not hard to detect in you. Magic is more an a hobby. I love collecting magical things, whether it's trinkets," his eyes seemed to look through him, "or people." He snapped his fingers, and Cresh's world seemed to melt in front of him. The disguise self spell faded away. Doggo was altogether different. His hair was longer and silver. The sparkle was gone. He took off his hat and goggles and smoothed his hair as he tipped his head back, taking in a deep breath of fresh air. His skin faded from a rosy flesh tones, to a pale dark blue. The color from his eyes emptied, leaving dark pools of black. His ears were more pointed, and seemed slimmer, and taller.
He could barely talk, he managed only a halfhearted, "What is going on?"
Doggo threw his head back hard with laughter that echoed in the night air, and even that was grating against Chresh's ears. He looked around and smacked his knee, "See, I told you this backwater kid was entertaining." He walked with a guile and lithe step that was completely different from how he walked just moments before, "He doesn't know what a drow is. My boy, the world you knew is over. You're part of the inner circle after tonight. I've held this group together for two hundred years. Sure my public face has changed from time to time, but I can count on my hands how many have seen this face. You're special. You're one of us now!" Chresh felt out of place and uneasy, not able to let his cheeks burn red as the lie gained a foothold in his mind, "You aren't the first person I've met touched by a god, or the first I've seen run from it. But you're special, and I need you," he glanced back at the man that Chresh had now recognized as the group's healer, "and we have an opening." He moved back to the man on the ground, "Doc here has been with us for ten years! Did you know he had a family? I KNOW! We didn't either! You know what else we didn't know? He'd been stealing from us for half of that time, a little at first, but over the years he's gotten a little more brazen. We just didn't notice because we trusted him, and because he would squirrel away money and hide it for his family, and would messenger them the squirreled away money. I hate squirrels." He pulled a long curved dagger from his hilt and put it in Chresh's hands. "We eat squirrels. Especially ones that have too much in their hands." The man's eyes were wide in terror, screaming through the gag, pleading, but Chresh still didn't understand. He had always seen the group slink into the woods from time to time, with a few members, and come back missing one or two people, but the turnover of new members seemed like a normal thing. This felt different. Doggo looked down at the confused halfling and his smirk seemed devilish.
"I don't understand what is happening. Why am I holdin..."
"STAND UP"
His words stopped mid sentence, as the halfling's legs strained and stiffened. At once he was on his feet, but he didn't want to get up.
"GIVE ME A TWIRL"
The world was spinning and now so was Cresh. He had no control over his body. His muscles flexed and pushed against an unseen force. He moved with the herky jerky clumsiness of a marionette doll. He was a puppet, and Doggo had a vice grip on those invisible strings. Doggo stood behind the man as his muffled screams grew more frantic. He curled his finger, and Chresh began walking forward till he was standing right in front of the man. Doggo picked up Chresh's hand and positioned the blade at the neck of the man and let go. Chresh's arm might as well have been stone. It wouldn't move, no matter how much he willed it to happen.
"Welcome to the Empty Hand, Chresh." he grabbed a hand full of hair and tilted the man's head back "KILL HIM"
A scream echoed through the clearing, but it wasn't muffled. Anguished screams and uncontrollable crying as Cresh stood, unable to run away as the gurgling sounds faded away into a wet dull drip. The men pulled the lifeless body away as Chresh's throat started to wince in pain from the repeated screams. The clouds parted bathing the clearing in more moonlight, and Chresh could see the grass stained and glistening in the night sky. His hands glistened too, covered in a sheen of crimson. He didn't see Doggo snap his fingers, but as soon as the sound hit his ears, his whole body went limp. He flailed onto the ground, not used to having use of his body again. He scrambled to his knees, his eyes unable to focus on anything but the blood. The blood on his hands, and now his clothes. He was still screaming in his mind, but now all that was coming out of his mouth was a raspy whisper. He didn't even hear Doggo come up behind him and put his hands on his shoulder. He bent down and whispered in his ear "Look what you did. You wanted to run away from what you were, well congratulations. Your god won't want you now with that much blood on your hands." His hands tightened on his shoulders as he continued to whisper, "That's the perverse joke of our name. I came up with it myself over a hundred years ago, and I still laugh inside when I say it. We are The Empty Hand, but your hands will be full of that man's blood...forever. Welcome to the crew."
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