Renegade

The sky was shrouded in black clouds, looming over Mimir like a dark shroud. Lightning lanced across the horizon, and the howls of Seraf could be heard echoing throughout the wind.

Panzure steadied his nervous Pitzen and looked up at the city gates. The lands of Mimir spread for miles around, but the giant city itself was surrounded by walls twice as tall as any ogre. The guards at the gate were reluctant to open, and Panzure knew why. He was a rough mercenary, with terrible social grace to match. His fur was a scruffy grey and his eyes a dark, brooding blue. He had long black hair, tied back to keep it out of his eyes. He wore ragged armour, pieced together from what he scavenged from battlefields. On his belt was a variety of knives and other pointy things. On his back was a large sword and a shield, the former designed to terminally shorten the lives around the wielder, and the latter designed to keep him alive long enough to do this.

At last the gates opened, and Panzure rode through, keeping a watchful eye on the shadows. Even though he was armed to the teeth, thieves still tried to attack him, for reasons only known to them. He rode on through the dark and muddy streets, his Pitzen eagerly sniffing the air. He stopped at a grimy tavern, dismounted and knocked harshly on the oaken door. A panel slid back and an old pair of eyes watched him with distrust.
"What'cha want?"
"A room and a stable." Panzure replied.
"Got any money?"
"A couple of thousand Marks."
There was a slight choking sound and the door opened wide, a frail old Norn waving him inside. The old Norn gave a sharp whistle and a youth got up from a table and trudged outside to see to the Pitzen.
"Godsawful night, 'tis sire," the old Norn said, eager to make conversation.
"Sod the Gods." grunted Panzure as he walked inside. Suddenly, a bolt of lightning struck outside the door and a great rumble of thunder echoed across the land.
"Damn, missed," it seemed to say.

Inside the air was warm, and smelled of mead and ale. Great fur rugs were scattered in front of the fire, where many other travellers rested. Everyone didn't pay much attention to him, all except a group of Norns in the corner who were trying far too hard to avoid his gaze. They were obviously the ones who wanted his services. Panzure pushed a Norn off his seat and dragged the suddenly free chair over to his potential employers, ignoring the complaints of the recently de-seated.
"Are you the ones who sent for me?" A Norn blinked owlishly at him through large spectacles.
"My name is..." he said, pausing slightly while he thought up a believable pseudonym. "My name is Tellum."
"Really? Not the Arcanus Tellum of legend, the famous Hexenmeister?"
"Er..."
"Who lived five hundred years ago?"
"Um..."
"Relax," grunted Panzure, stealing someone else's ale. "I don't give a damn what your names are."
"For security?"
"No, because I don't give a damn."
The Norn laughed nervously, a sound which put Panzure at his ease. He leaned back, revealing his vast array of pointy, vicious-looking weapons from under his coat. The Norns shuffled away from him, and he smiled quietly to himself.
"Something's going on in the city, Panzure. Citizens are disappearing and turning up weeks, even months later, mutilated beyond belief. The Watch haven't found a thing."
"Even so... Why me?"
"We've heard of your exploits. Your methods are messy, but if they get the job done..."
The Norn trailed off, leaving the statement hanging in the air like a nasty smell.
"You want me to find out what's going on, and you don't care what I do?"
"In a word... Yes."
Panzure grinned openly. This was his kind of job.
"Do I get money?"
"Are you broke?"
Panzure cursed under his breath. Stupid question, stupid answer.
"Do I get anything?"
"Yes."
The Norn was more assured of himself now. He pulled all the strings, and Panzure knew it.
"Like what?"
"Weapons, when you need them, will be available."
"And?"
"You will meet certain... experts... who may help you."
"Like who?"
"One is waiting outside for you now. You are our only hope."
Panzure nodded and left.

After a while the Norn turned to his companions and sighed deeply.
"With this destructive thug on the case, we're done for. Saddle up the Pitzen."

Stories

Chapter 2