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Gardens of the Moon
907th Year in the Third Millennium
The Season of Fanderay in the Year of the Five Tusks
By Malazan Reckoning, 1163rd Year of burn’s Sleep
T’lan Imass Reckoning, The year of the Gathering, Tellann Arise
Estate district; Darujhistan
He couldn’t believe what he was actually seeing! Uncle Mammot would never do this! He was a kind and calm scholar; he would never claim the right to harm a single human being! Let alone kill so many so indiscriminately! The silver spears of power were unlike anything he had ever heard of, they lanced in every direction like chain lightning. Where they struck stone it showered anyone nearby with dust, where they struck flesh it had much the same effect to his horror. All these thoughts pierced Crokus’ mind like needles, paralyzing him in his hiding spot. Crokus was a young man with silky black hair and a fine fit body, he was an accomplished thief who treated his profession like a game.
“I have to do something about this!” he thought feverishly, yet remained unable to move.
Suddenly the tall wiry black man, who had just appeared a moment earlier to warn everyone that the man was “Jaghut possessed” started unleashing unbelievable waves of pure power at his uncle. It quickly became evident that this strange newcomer stood barely a chance against this “not quite my uncle.” And then for some inexplicable reason this strange mage dashed aside.
“What is going on Crokus thought to himself” thoroughly jarred by a large explosion. When he could gather his wits he looked up.
“By Hood no!” Where Uncle Mammot was standing there was just a large smoking crater.
“What was that smell?" It was like sulphur, and a little bit of coal. Not like the gas that ran through pipes throughout the city. "Nothing like anything I’ve smelled before”
Then it really hit home. “My only family in the world! Gone! to a smoking crater!”
“What was it that he had heard his Uncle say the other day? Something about Jaghut…. That they were a… an elder race, very powerful, lived alone.”
“But why did that have a familiar ring to it?” “of course! His friend Kruppe told him just the other day, “this city was born on a rumour.”
“That of a legendary hidden Barrow containing riches, one belonging to a Jaghut Tyrant”
His Uncle also told him that tyrants were anathema to this race, that they were considered abominations and that they were so powerful they could rarely be killed.
Crokus almost could not believe what this could mean but it did give him some Solace. Though his Uncle, the only caretaker he had ever had that he could remember, had just died a violent death, so had a very terrible creature. He had just witnessed the death of a legend.
After realising all this Crokus was able to put his mind to other things.
“I still have a job to do” He ran to the streets from the Simtal estate and started in the direction of Baruk’s.
This post has been edited by Darkfox: 30 June 2010 - 05:59 PM
