Jonitillus

Chapter One - Qeynos

Jonitillus strode easily through the bustling streets of Qeynos, a cocky grin on his face. His green eyes twinkled as they surveyed the crowd of passerbys. At first glance, his flamboyant garb made him appear as nothing more than the son of some minor noble or rich merchant. But those who looked closer caught a glance of the chain shirt under his tunic, the well-used look of the weapons at his side or the calluses on his hands from years of fencing. And then there were his eyes. More than anything, his eyes always gave him away, seeming a little too old for his young face. But then, you couldn’t see what he’d seen and walk away untouched.

Rounding the corner, he watched a froglok hop through the crowd croaking a song popular with the local half-elf bard named Abdgar. While Abdgar’s songs tended to be a little too melancholy for Jonitillus’ tastes, seeming more like dirges than tavern songs, he couldn’t deny how the haunting melodies lingered in his mind. He had even caught himself humming a few lines of “The Fall of T’Haen” without realizing it. Even now, he had to fight back the urge to whistle along with the low-bass croaking of the froglok.

Luckily, the crisp salute of a nearby soldier snapped the swashbuckler out of his musical dilemma. Jonitillus nodded to the soldier and hurried past, ignoring the looks of the nearby commoners. They were probably wondering if he was an off-duty guardsman or perhaps some special agent for the Queen. Smiling inwardly at the bewildered expressions, he ducked into the doorway of the Herb Jar – the local alchemy shop. Opening the door, the heavy odor of herbs and chemicals stung his nose. No matter how many times he was in this place, he could never get used to it. He couldn’t imagine the alchemists who spent hours upon hours brewing the strange concoctions – but he was glad they did.

“Hail, Aaron,” he beamed at the old man who looked up at him. He deftly tossed a small pouch of coins on the counter in front of the alchemist. “The usual.”

“Well met, Jonitillus,” replied Aaron. While he thought the old man might be in his late fifties, the alchemist hadn’t really seemed to age the entire time he Jonitillus had known him. He wondered if the perhaps one of his strange potions was responsible. If so, he imagined there would be quite a market for a potion that kept one looking young. Aaron untied the pouch and began counting the money.

Jonitillus feigned a pained expression. “Aaron, I’m hurt that you still count my money.”

The old alchemist didn’t bother responding, nor did he loose count. He continued counting the silver coins until satisfied. “No, I can’t imagine why I’d count the coins… especially not after that Freeport crap you tried to pass off on me.”

“I told you I didn’t realize they were Freeport coins,” Jonitillus smiled sheepishly. Actually, he had known. He had taken those coins off the body of a dead bandit who had attacked him on the way to the Thunder Steppes. He wasn’t sure where the bandit had gotten the coins, but in his eyes, gold was gold – whether it came from Qeynos or Freeport. Unfortunately, not everyone agreed. The exchange rate for Freeport coins was barely 80%, so he had tried to mix them in with Qeynos coins when paying for things. Most people didn’t catch it, but Aaron had. Luckily, he had had enough gold Qeynos coins to cover what he owed. But since then, Aaron had always counted coin.

The old alchemist slipped the coins into a small coffer behind the counter and emerged with a package, setting it gingerly on the counter. “The usual, 3 vials of poison” he muttered. Suddenly, a wistful look passed over his face, making him look even younger. “Oh, I almost forgot. I combined the giant spider venom with a little powdered zombie bone someone brought me from the Catacombs. It should be much more potent than the usual batch.”

Jonitillus shuddered involuntarily at the mention of the catacombs and the living dead that lived down there. He’d been down there himself when he was younger. He had gotten in a little trouble with the guards and they had offered to let him off if he went into the catacombs to investigate rumors of Bloodsaber activity in the city.

The Bloodsabers were a notorious gang of assassins and thugs, thought to be funded by Freeport. Jonitillus had tracked them to their base of operations in the catacombs under the city, posing as an assassin for hire. Once they had realized he was working for the Qeynos Guard, he had been forced to flee deeper into the catacombs where he had run into the undead. Only a lucky twist of fate had kept him from joining their undying ranks, when he chanced to run into a group of paladins and clerics who were searching for a holy artifact thought lost in the catacombs. Calling upon the power of Mithaniel Marr, the god of Truth, they smote the undead and helped him reach the surface.

The door to the apothecary opened, breaking him out of his silent reverie. Another client was coming in, an attractive human woman wearing robes – perhaps a mage. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her exotic almond face seemed lost in some private thoughts.

With a furtive glance back, he slid the package into a pocket in this cloak and wheeled to face the door. He glanced at the newcomer admiringly, flashing her a boyish grin. Pulling off his wide brimmed hat, he bowed low with a flourish, “My lady.”

His words seem to snap her out of whatever thoughts she had been intent on. “Oh… oh my,” she stammered, suddenly caught off guard. Her cheeks flushed and she seemed at a loss for words, seemingly unused to such attention. As he straightened, Jonitillus reached down and took her hand in his, gentling bring it up to his lips and kissed it gently. “A pleasure to make you acquaintance,” he soothed, ignoring Aaron rolling his eyes.

“I…umm… I mean…Nice to meet you,” she blurted out, her eyes traveled over his rich garments and she hastily added,”um…my lord.”

The swashbuckler ignored the snicker from the old alchemist behind him. While he had occasionally let some women believe he was a noble, he knew he had no chance of passing himself off as royalty with Aaron near. “Jonitillus… just Jonitillus, my lady.”

“Oh,” she shot back quickly, seeming to recover. “I’m no lady. My name is Liath, wizardress of the 3rd circle.”

Jonitillus raised an eyebrow. Training to be a mage was difficult and took years of dedication and unless some illusion was masking her age, she looked younger than him. For her to have reached the 3rd circle of power so quickly meant she must be very powerful indeed. He smiled inwardly. Probably not someone he wanted to cross. “The pleasure is all mine.”

She smiled, and then catching a glimpse of Aaron, suddenly seemed to remember her purpose in coming to the Herb Jar. Jonitillus watched her change instantly from shy girl to wizardress in a second. All business now, he noted. “It was nice to meet you Jonitillus,” she said. Even her voice seemed stronger now – more confident. “I have to take care of some business with Aaron.”

“Of course, milady,” he said, bowing low again, “I will leave you to your business.” Jonitillus knew his opportunity had come and gone. He straightened and walked to the door. Casting a glance back as he passed through the door, he was actually surprised to see she was glancing back at him too. He winked and her head snapped back around towards Aaron.

Smiling wistfully, Jonitillus headed down the road towards the stables to retrieve his horse, Daydream, from the stable hand. He had been asked to do a favor for the garrison on the Island of Zek, and while he wasn’t sure exactly what that favor entailed, he doubted it would be easy. Nothing was ever easy in the Orcish Wastes.

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