“Beware the dark and snowy drifts
Lurking shadows bring destiny’s shift
Those who enter face the reaper’s bliss
Or end up prisoners of the Frozen Abyss”
The warning they called, “Hymn of the Abyss” was known to all four Regions of the world, thus the Thief had heard it sung countless times before, but never as frequently as he had today. Honestly, he wished the Bard would just shut up. Though it was only ever a wish, for he had no intention of doing anything to upset him. After all, he needed the Bard to open the chest that they would soon come across, if the map on the note was accurate. Thus he let the Bard continue to sing, all the while vanquishing any doubts he may have had as to why his companion had a hobble to his step.
And so song after song they continued wandering onward through the wintery darkness and cold until eventually coming across a frozen pond surrounded by mounds of snow, which held to the landscape much like the sand dunes of the Southern Realm. And it was at the far side of the pond in the middle of one of these drifts that the map described as the location of the treasure. Although seeing as there was a small cave on edge of the pond directly across from where they now stood, the Thief didn’t think it was going to be too hard to figure out which drift was the right one.
A few moments later they stood above a worn out chest, though it lacked the dust and dirt to match its age. It had obviously been tampered with recently. Thus the Thief allowed the Bard the honor of opening it up. And so from a few paces away the Thief watched as the Bard lifted the lid and then fell to the floor, having been pierced through the chess with a spike all too well placed for an amateur trapper. Ignoring the Bard’s final and desperate pleas for help, the Thief carefully inspected the chest to identify the trap that was supposed to take his life, not the Bard’s. For clearly the note had been a trap from the start, leading him away from the inn in order to kill him without anybody seeing. Hell, it was a tactic the Thief had used himself. Just never so blatantly. Whoever wanted him dead was obviously no assassin. But upon inspection of the rig attached to the chest it appeared they were at least well skilled in crafting traps. This particular style was used by the locals of the Western Region, which was clearly identifiable to the Thief, being a well traveled individual and master of traps himself. Thus of those staying at Jazmin’s Tavern, it looked as though the Ranger was the one who wanted him dead. Must have had something to do with the item he had stolen from their tribe. Too bad for him though, the Thief had already sold it away.
At any rate, the Thief had gotten what he came for and so had no reason left to stay. The Bard, meanwhile, had died while he was inspecting the trap. So out of habit, the Thief dragged his body over to the pond, cut a hole in the ice and pushed him through. It was simply routine and nothing more. Thus with that finished the Thief began his trip back to the inn, all the while planning how the Ranger would die. Although in the back of his mind he couldn’t help but think the Ranger had done him a favor. After all, it was invigoratingly quiet the whole way back…
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