Reckoning

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a deep crimson hue across the sky, a dark figure cloaked in shadows moved stealthily through the dense crowds of Aetheria. His pursuit of redemption burned like a relentless fire in his heart. These motley criminals he had encountered had humiliated him. It wasn't even their superior strength or cunning tactics that led to his defeat, but his own arrogant underestimation of their abilities, a mistake he wouldn't be making again.
Suldur saw his encounter with these tax-evaders as something of a turning point in his life. Bruised and broken after the battle, he returned to Duke Johann. The Duke, who Suldur saw as an ambitious and ruthless man, if a bit foppish, still believed that one of them owed him a considerable debt, even moreso, now that they had murdered his soldiers in fleeing Timber's Bend. Suldur had survived the encounter, so the Duke returned him to his task the moment he was fit for travel.
Over the months that followed, Suldur found ample time for training. Following the evaders' trail, he found himself boarding a ship in Sravine, heading to the sacked city of Chamsport. In the month aboard, he practised sword and knife fighting with some of the more talented seafaring warriors, learning how to be more acrobatic, and to use terrain to his advantage. He learned how to sail, and to read the stars, so that he might never be lost, no matter where he was.
It was in Champort that the greatest change happened, though. The city was thick with the living dead, and it seemed every day was another dance upon the razor's edge, with Death as his partner. Of the men that the Duke offered him to pursue the fleeing adventurers, few remained, but the days of back-to-back fighting to cross the city taught them much on resilience. Suldur came to understand that he would likely need to sacrifice more of his men if he were to bring the escapees to justice.
About halfway through the city, Suldur came to the city's temple, the last safe haven for the living in their desparate fight for survival. The locals proved to be friendly enough, opening their doors to Suldur and his men, after confirming that they weren't threatening to turn undead. The religious cloister was full of scared and starving commonfolk, the nobles of their high town having fled aboard some Prasoddi airships in the weeks before. Suldur was accustomed to the sight.
Being on a mission, Suldur and his men resisted the clerics' attempts to convert them without difficulty, but it was during these discussions that he first met Marle. At first, Suldur considered her another inconvenience, another conversion specialist coming to try and ply them further before they moved on. In their discussions, however, Suldur learned that Marle had recently lost her father, who was once leader of this cloister - murdered by some out-of-towners employed by another group of survivors, raiders that had pillaged much of the city's resources, and hoarded them before vanishing from the city, all their ill-gained wealth in tow.
The descriptions of the murderers Marle had received when speaking with her father's corpse was simply too close to the ones Suldur was looking for, he couldn't ignore it. Marle revealed to him that the fleeing group of survivors had headed toward Ceford, the closest city with enough space to house such a large group, and that they had left less than a week past. She begged to join his crew, if only for the chance to avenge her murdered father.
Now, under the silvery light of the crescent moon, Suldur's preparations bore fruit. In Chamsport, it was simple enough to learn that the group had, only days ago, moved on toward Aetheria. He was getting close. While his funds were running low, he had enough left to charter a small, fast merchant ship headed that direction.
In Aetheria, it was mere hours before he heard whispers from local students, studying at one of the schools there, a group from out of town that had recently broken in to one of the city's premiere arcane universities, and had murdered a student to steal a magic artifact. To Suldur, it was all to obvious.
"Typical. Only days in town, and already, they murder and steal."
He had tracked down the elusive criminals to The Nameless Inn, one of the more upstanding establishments he had encountered, though no such inn had yet graced Timber's Bend. In the cover of darkness along with Marle and Garvik, his most loyal lackey, and a hulking brute, he watched them from afar as they entered, his heart pounding with anticipation.
Garvik shifted uncomfortably, eager to please his master and fulfill their thirst for revenge. "Master Suldur, what do you plan to do now?" he asked, his deep voice tinged with excitement.
Suldur's eyes narrowed as he observed the adventurers for a moment longer, the last of them disappearing into the inn. "Patience, Garvik," he hissed, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I will strike when the time is right. But first, we must ensure we have the advantage."
He reached into the folds of his cloak, producing a vial containing a sinister, glowing liquid. "I got this from that Ashiaran alchemist on board the merchant ship," Suldur explained. "With this, I can weaken their senses and cloud their judgment, making them vulnerable to our assault."
Garvik's eyes widened with anticipation as he stared at the vial. "Aye, that sounds like a fine plan, Master Suldur," he replied, a wicked grin forming on his rugged face. "But," he seemed uncertain for a moment, "We don't outnumber them by much, do we? There's," he took a moment to count on his fingers, "Eight of them, if you count the little one, and only a dozen or so of us. You said they were dangerous."
Suldur clapped a hand on Garvik's shoulder, "Oh, my friend, there are so many more of us than that, don't you worry." He gave a knowing look to Marle over Gavrik's shoulder. Gavrik seemed only more uncertain, but decided not to press the issue.
Suldur turned his attention back to the evaders, a cruel smirk crossing his lips. "They will pay for what they did to me. The Duke's debt will be collected in blood," he vowed, his voice carrying the weight of his determination.
With the potion in hand, Suldur watched and waited for the opportune moment to strike. Revenge was within his grasp, and he would make sure that these crimnals regretted ever crossing paths with him.