Tales of the Ruddy Spirits Taproom
Kayallan Shadow Mage
Class: Shadow mage from the Shadow Plane
Race: Kayal (Fetchling is a derogatory term used by Material Planes races)
Profession: Undertaker (includes the science of mummification, taxidermy, embalming, etc.)
Armor DR: 3
Fort: 9 (take -1 in dim light or darkness)
Ref: 11 (take -1 in dim light or darkness)
Will: 13 (take -1 in dim light or darkness)
Spell like abilities: Disguise Self once per day
Other special bonuses: Shadowy resistance (+5 cold & electrical resistance); Shadow Blending (attacks in DIM light have 50% miss)
Sense Motive: 11
Seething shadows, black as ebony, slithered up gray tower walls. Yentha’s fingers clenched and her alabaster skin paled.
“Well, what next?” she asked in a shaky voice.
“Listen!” Kafdra inclined her head. Faintly through the casement there came the clank of armor; talons scraped on cobblestones, gruff voices shouted in an alien tongue, and cries of alarm mingled with the shouts.
“The shadows awaken and grow fearful,” said Ash-rakyld the Zihuju. “You had better go and reassure them, Kafdra!”
“Call me Yentha,” answered Kafdra. “We must become accustomed to it.”
“What have you done?” cried Yentha. “What have you done?”
“I have gone to the gates and ordered the guards to open them,” answered Kafdra. “They were astounded, but they obeyed. That is the Zihuju’s army you hear, marching into the city.”
“You devious slut!” cried Yentha. “You have betrayed our people, in my guise! You have made me seem a traitor! Oh, I shall go to them—”
With a cruel laugh Kafdra caught her wrist and jerked her back. The magnificent suppleness of the shadow mage was helpless against the vindictive strength that steeled Kafdra’s slender limbs.
“You know how to reach the dungeons from the mage tower, Ash-rakyld?” said the witch. “Good. Take this wench and lock her into the strongest cell. The jailers are all in a drugged sleep. I saw to that. Send someone to cut their throats before they can awaken. None must ever know what has occurred tonight. Henceforth I am Yentha, and Yentha is a nameless prisoner in an unknown dungeon.”
Ash-rakyld smiled with a glint of strong sharp teeth under his dusky upper lip.
“Very good; but you would not deny me a little—ah—amusement first?”
“Not I! But gag the scornful hussy or she may call upon her idiot shadows.” With a wicked laugh Kafdra flung her sister into the Zihuju’s arms, and turned away through the door that opened into the outer corridor.
Fright widened Yentha’s slate gray eyes, her supple figure rigid and straining against Ash-rakyld’s embrace. She forgot the marching intruders in the streets, forgot the outrage to her post, in the face of the menace to her womanhood. She forgot all sensations but terror and shame as she faced the complete cynicism of Ash-rakyld’s burning, mocking eyes, felt his hard arms crushing her writhing body.
Kafdra, hurrying along the corridor outside, smiled spitefully as a scream of despair and agony rang shuddering through the mage’s tower.