Familiar Faces, Worn out Places

[Shang Tsung]

Mister Geoffrey Hamilton had been a member of the Darkshire City Council for the last two years. As an avid supporter of the mayor, he had stood with the rest of the councilmen who sought to decrease the budget for the military. The last four years had been rough for the city, with shrinking revenue and trade income juxtaposed by a decline in production and population. Although the people of Darkshire were hardy and tough to break, it was reaching a tipping point.

Councilman Hamilton knew that. Mayor Boone knew that. Hell, most of the Council knew as much.

Unfortunately for Hamilton and those who shared his beliefs, the garrison that once stalwartly defended the city against the Moors had become little more than a cancerous sore. It absorbed so many able-bodied men through conscription, and to do what? Send them out on murderous campaigns out in the interior of the Pale Moors? Or even worse, they just sucked up money and food sitting in their towers and barracks. The whole situation was deplorable and in desperate need of an overhaul.

After a day of meetings that lead to nothing, Geoffrey had retired to his private quarters, nestled on the far side of town. He enjoyed having his home here, far from the shadows of the town’s center. It was here that he could escape from some of the more frustrating aspects of Darkshire. With the day behind him, he could change into more relaxing clothes, brew up a nice cup of tea, and relax with a book. The town would still be broken in the morning, so he didn’t feel bad about enjoying his evenings while he had the chance.

As the man made for his steaming cup in the kitchen, he heard a sharp succession of raps at his front door. With a scowl, he made his way toward the other side of his home and glanced through the peephole. Through the tiny glass, he spotted his page—a young man named Albert.

“Albert, what are you doing out here at this hour?”

“I’ve got some terrible news, Sir… It appears that a band of ruffians has occupied the town hall, and they’re threatening to start executing people if the council doesn’t hear their demands.”

“Goodness, that’s horrible,” Geoffrey stammered as he started to undo the locks on the door. Once he had them all out of the way, he pulled open the door and ushered his assistant into his home. “Have they stated these demands yet?”

“Yes, Sir,” Alfred replied as he stepped inside and waited for the door to click shut. “They demand your death.”

Geoffrey’s eyes went wide as he stared at the now grinning face of his assistant. “What heinous words are those?”

With a roll of his eyes, Alfred drew a letter opener from the inside of his vest and rammed it through the councilman’s heart. Geoffrey let out a grunt and stumbled backwards, his hands grabbed fistfuls of his now bloodstained garments. Before the man could find the words, he was already crumbling into a gently twitching heap on the floor.

While the councilman finished bleeding out, Alfred stepped over the corpse. When his foot landed on the other side of the corpse, the page’s cheap shoes had been replaced by the expensive boots of Shang Tsung, who hummed faintly as he slung a bag off his shoulders. Inside of the large haversack was enough evidence from the crime scene to implicate Councilman Hamilton in the conspiracy. After planting a variety of drow artifacts and a few nicely forged documents in his desk, Shang turned his attention back to the corpse bleeding on the floor.

“Man, I can’t believe that Councilman Hamilton cut town after the success of his plan. I’m sure he’ll melt into the Omniverse and never be seen again… what a shame.”

With a grin on his face and a glint in his eye, Shang set about clearing out the last piece of the puzzle.