Velan Volandis and the Threat of the Throater

[A Nony Mouse]

VELAN VOLANDIS and the THREAT of the THROATER

As the hateful sun began to set over the Palatial Pyramid, the stillness of twilight was broken by a clamor and shout!

"I no longer have need of your services!" bellowed a deep and manly voice as disgraced former magistrates Aubrey and Mae tumbled head over heels down the steps, bowled bodily out the doors by the thick and magnificent thews of Legate Marcellus.

The pair tumbled in a tangle, the Balladeer lecturing all the while to an audience only she could see while the Apothar's face radiated anger and also radiation. They came to a stop in a tangle, "Come on," said Mae, grabbing Aubrey's hand, "We'll find a new reason not to vote for the White League!" she seethed as they scuttled off.

"And stay out!" cheered a nearby Hin scribe handsomely.

"I'm not interrupting am I?" A voice came from behind like honeyed music. Marcellus and the scribe turned around and who did that voice belong to? None other than Velan Volandis!

Marcellus smiled and clasped forearms with the legendary Elven hero, firm and tight, "I can slip you in any time, Velan Volandis." and he gazed into the swordsman's sparkling eyes, "In fact, you are just the Elf I wanted to see. Come in my office?"

"I always do." Velan Volandis said with a winsome smile, close behind the Legate as they made for the lift.

At the office, Marcellus laid out the situation.

"He's called The Throater. For obvious reasons. He has killed several upstanding citizens of the well, and the Astrologers report he is responsible for every single Nadiri who has died under mysterious circumstances. Ever." Marcellus flexed a gesture toward the scribe and the dashing Hin passed a drawing of the man to Velan Volandis. Their fingers brushed and the scribe blushed administrativeishly.

"That is a lot of dead Nadiri." the hero mused Elvishly as he dextrously unrolled the vellum and looked over the image of the man judgefully. "Don't worry Legate. The Throater will go down, and he will go down hard."

"Velan Volandis I know you are a hero without peer but even a hero needs someone to watch their back. Tonight you will patrol the Souk with one of my hardest men. Janissary Radislav, Chaplain of the Wroth."

Velan Volandis gave a roguish smile, "Tell him I'll meet him there. Don't worry about him I'll make sure he gets what he needs." and the Elven hero was off, hair and cloak fluttering behind him.

Night fell over the Souk. The air was hot and it was only getting hotter.

And all through it Velan Volandis stalked through the streets with the effortless grace of an Elven hunting cat, the burly Janissary Radislav striding alongside him with muscular intent. Watching every shadow.

"Its been hours" Velan Volandis said, turning to look at his close partner, "Maybe we should... take a little break?" the handsome Elf suggested suggestively.

"Velan Volandis." replied the Janissary, "The Wroth teaches us to be ready for any betrayal, but I never expected to be betrayed... by my own heart." Radislav removed his helmet, leaning in toward the lithe swordsman. To whisper? To do something more? But then, what did Velan Volandis's keen Elven eyes spy reflected in the chaplain's own... but THE THROATER! Coming up on him hard from behind!

"Not so fast!" whirled Velan Volandis as he unsheathed his weapon and caught the blade of the infamous throater, Leondar Knifekill, on his own shining longsword!

"Finally the ultimate contract," the Throater chittered rattishly, "VELAN VOLANDIS!" a flash of blades as the lithe pair began a deadly and dashing dance of death, "Diakos has a bounty out... FOR YOUR HEART!"

Velan Volandis give a Velandesque roll of his eyes, "And you're just gagging to give it to him, aren't you? Well, it will take more than some two-bit mouse-faced sneak to thrash me!"

"You will choke on those words!" howled The Throater, lunging forward blades poised to penetrate, "and other things! Velan Volandis! Prepare to be throated!"

Just then a blinding flash of holy light lanced forth, spreading shadow aside as Janissary Radislav blasted divine white heat all over the Throater, sending him sprawling back! "He is always prepared!" roared Radislav in a manful bellow, "Feel the kiss of the Wroth!"

Knifekill rolled to his feet, "This isn't over, Velan Volandis! Sooner or later, you will be throated!" and with those words, he threw down a smoke bomb, disappearing in the confusion.

"Well," said the legendary hero, sheathing his blade firmly, "It seems he's no joke. That's too bad," he added, eyes meeting Radislav's, voice dipping into an alluring whisper, "I do enjoy a good gag."

"Maybe," replied, Radislav flushing manfully, "it is time for that break after all..."