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This is loosely based on my first foray into the Forgotten Realms fifteen some odd years ago, back when Unearthed Arcana was still a big deal....its first time around. Yes, he still has it, and yes, it's still intact. By the way, putting it all on the front. as it'll let me, so don't be surprised if following posts don't make sense. ^.^
and yes, he the cut the newbie a LOT of slack. Mostly because my ideas made him laugh.
To tie time in a knot,
or
Telki has an adventure
It was a glorious late summer afternoon, with just a teasing taste of Autumn in the air. Sunlight gilded all it touched, and the air softly kissed Telki's striped skin. Unfortunately, she was bone tired, and couldn't properly appreciate the sumptuous evening, not the velvety perfume of the violets she narrowly missed crushing, nor the comforting scent of ferns brushing around her dragging legs. Nope, all her aching bones wanted was her own cozy comfy bed. Sitting with a litter of colicky werecubs wears a body out in a hurry.
Her searching fingers finally found the time worn wood of her family's cottage door. Her father's family had been foresters for Huorn in these woods for ages. “Mom, I'm home, their fever broke just like you said it would. Their Momma's back, Wemie must have gotten ahold to her after all. Can you help me out of these things now?” Telki's drooping ears perked up when no ready reply came back. In fact, as far as she could tell, there wasn't a soul in the house but her. A longtime home takes on a life of its own, and the life in her house right now was decidedly lonely, and getting anxious; maybe that part was just her. Then Telki's eyes noticed the tumbled look of the place. While their home had never been tidy, what met her eyes went well beyond the usual chaos. The den was completely tossed, cushions were ripped, chairs overturned, and some things even thrown on the hearth. The kitchen was smashed, not a single dish or bowl left whole, and even her tiny sleeping loft had been rifled.
Telki felt a clawing fear rising up her throat. What had happened here? Being a cleric of Huorn herself, she had a few resources, but first she'd search by mundane means. Energy wasted on a task that could have been done manually was energy she wouldn't have later when she needed it. She felt an involuntary smile at the memory of her mother's voice reminding her of that time and again. It only served to increase Telki's resolve. What could have done this? Taken her mother without leaving a sign?
Telki carefully searched through the remains of her home for clues to what had happened. She could track well enough to feed herself and avoid roving orc bands, but tracking had never been her strong suit. No, tracking was the purview of her following-daddy's-trail sister. Wemie could tell you how many orcs were in the party, where they were coming from, and what they'd had for lunch.
When she couldn't find enough clues to the attackers by searching, she tried the not so mundane means. Telki thought of her mother's crescent pendant. While Dad's side served Huorn by managing His forests, Mom's family served spiritually. Mother to daughter, the Crescent pendant had been handed down to represent their faith and service. Mom had already told her the crescent would be her's come her twentieth year. She knew every inch of that silver crescent with the antlered engraving, and she created her search spell as she thought of it. She could even feel the grooves and cool metal in her fingers, just as she had played with it so often as a child at her mother's knee.
A small green beacon formed in her mind's eye. It summoned her down the path and to the south of the house. Heedless of the wood lore drilled into her from infancy, Telki crashed down the path like a townie, intent on finding her mother. All she found was the pendant discarded under a bush by the side of the path, the chain broken.
Wemie Forrester pounded down the trail, her four leonine feet and pounding heart created a rhythmic prayer in her mind “please be alive, please be alive” that helped keep the mind numbing terror in check. Anger was a powerful tool for keeping her sanity, but it was only just managing. She'd lost one family, she refused to lose another. The fact that Telki's trail overlaid the attackers' helped somewhat. She was obviously not there when the original force went through, but how did her tracking impaired sister know which way to go?
A wail worthy of a banshee filled the air. The loss and terror in it scared the few remaining birds away in panic. Wemie readied her bow, that had been Telki's voice, if anything had happened to her. .. . Wemie spurred herself forward, soft padded feet on soft leaf litter muting the sound of her passage to a mere whisper. There ahead of her, she saw Telki curled upright on the path, rocking back and forth, cradling something to her chest. Huge racking sobs shook her entire frame.
Wemie had never seen her this way. She didn't quite know how to react. It seemed her sister had been born bouncing and laughing through life. In fact, it was Telki that had named her. When Telki was but a year and a half, she was already curious as to why Wemie had four feet and two hands, while she only had two feet and two hands. Her parents tried to explain what a wemic was, but it came out “wemie,” she rolled laughing, and accepted the name for herself. She didn't miss being Seshorsha Goldenmane, because she couldn't remember: surviving for a year by herself left many scars. She only knew her name and clan because of the runes on her tiny bronze armband .“Telki?”
“They've taken her, Wemie, and I can't find her now. Is Dad coming? Can you and Dad find her? Please, I don't know what to do now....”Telki was babbling at ninety miles a minute, almost incoherently, still rocking the pendant. Wemie folded down on her haunches, and cradled Telki, silently soothing her as best she could. How could she tell her that they took Dad too?
Wemie rocked her sister until the sobs subsided, and Telki spoke more like herself. “I'll be fine now. What can you tell me about what happened?”
Wary of the suddenly calm tone, Wemie complied. Watching for signs of stress all the while. ”No more than five attackers, can't tell species, it's too muddled. They took her alive, no blood anywhere, and I can tell from the drag marks she kept fighting. Telki, it wasn't just Momma they took; they took Dad, and near as I can tell, all magic users in the area. It's not just us, it's something big. We are going to need help, and lots of it.”
Telki felt it starting to overwhelm her again, and she closed her eyes to fight it off. She couldn't help anyone if she gave in to the hysteria screaming at the edges of her mind. Her mother needed her, and now, so did Dad and others. “Then we must go to Waterdeep. They're the closest, and they'll have resources.”
Even the best story, Telki decided, does not prepare one for the real thing. Neither of the girls were prepared for the breadth and majesty of Waterdeep. Salt tinged the air, adding a spice to breathing that pricked the heartbeat and buoyed heavy spirits. Calling Seagulls overhead hinted at mysteries just over the watery horizon. Towering white buildings and dingy little allies crisscrossed everywhere enough to make a pair of country girls plumb giddy with confusion.
Yet the main thorough fare was strangely somber. Dark blue ribbons lined the street, and the crowds lining them were still and silent. There was no shouting, no fidgeting, no conversations, as sad and mournful looks lined the street , watching the procession make its slow and careful way from the Temple grounds down the main thoroughfare, and to the City of the Dead.
Two caskets were being carried in state, side by side. The two escorts for the caskets couldn't have been more different. Around the nearest casket, people wore plate and carried shields, while the farther casket was surrounded by an escort in leather and had bows slung across their backs.
The casket closest to them was being escorted by two the most sorrowful men she'd ever seen. Even though one was dark haired and sun bronze while the other was blonde and fair, they were so alike in bearing, expression, and feature she knew they had to be brothers. Both were clad in full plate armor, and carried shield's with Tyr's familiar symbol: the scales of justice resting on a hammer.
“ 'Tis a shame about Justin, those two there never were all that lighthearted, they'll be pure grim here on out.” A wizened little fellow, no taller than Telki, spoke up at her shoulder. His weathered eyes followed the two brothers, concern for them evident in every crevice of his face.
“Aye, the joy died, leaving only duty....and revenge.” This insightfull sally came from behind Telki. A wee woman even smaller than she was trying to see between her and the old man. Telki shifted to make room for her and she caught a glimpse of the blonde's face as he passed by them.
“I guess there'll be a reckoning soon after this. That will be one pack of Drow we'll never hear from again.”
“I never did hear how it happened. Wasn't Hawk a ranger? How did they sneak up on a ranger?”
“Fah, woman! No drow can sneak up on a ranger like that! Justin and Hawk were at this High elf villa, and 'twas a war party, thirty strong. Hawk, Justin and the villa men kept the raiders at bay while the women got the children out of the villa and away. Help came back in time to keep the attackers from dragging the dead off for who knows what....but not in time to preserve their life.”
“It was Gideon and Gabriel that found them, wasn't it?”
“Aye, as luck would have it. No one should have to find a loved one like they found poor Justin. . . .”
“What do you mean?
The little lady reminded Telki of the little Bobbin birds that would sit and twitter on the sill at home. Their curiosity knew no bounds, either. Her attention, though, wasn't centered on the talk behind her, but on that grim visage full of soul deep sorrow on the dark haired man. She felt his pain as her own, because she was fighting to keep hope for her parents alive, and knew what would engulf her if that hope ever wavered. He was already there.
Something compelled her to step forward from the masses. She laid a hand on his knee. He stopped and looked down. The tiniest curiosity sparked admist the sea of grief as he looked in her face.
“May I say a prayer over the caskets? I know,...I know that better may have been said inside, but all I've to offer?” Telki felt she was handling this badly. Why was she stopping a stately procession to offer inadequate blessings on already blessed caskets on their way to a stately and grand gravesite? What was it about Sad eyes?
“Thank you, young priestess. That would be appreciated.” His words were at odds with the bleak expression. They were deep, warm and kindly. She could feel her face blushing furiously as she performed the simple blessing.........and watched a miracle she was not expecting. Huorn's light actually entered the city, and bathed both caskets in a golden glow. From the surprised murmurs and startled riders around them, neither were the escorts. She could see grateful tears in some of the leathered escorts around what must have been Hawk's casket. She saw one mouth the words “Thank you” from where she was. Telki was quickly hoisted into the saddle in front of the Dark eyed one, before she could melt back into the crowd. “How did you do that?”
“I'm not sure, it's never done that before, and most certainly not in a town like this. Ah, could I ask your name, please?” Now she was nervous, surely all that kindred feeling stuff was just fancy on her part for such a drop dead gorgeous face, and her own pain looking for sympathy.
A dry chuckle met her ears. The lack of humor in it made her wince. “You bless my brother, and don't even know my name? You are quite interesting, young priestess. I am Gideon Rainier. Paladin of Tyr, and captain of the city guard. You would be?” Brown eyes deeper and clearer than her favorite brook filled her vision, placed in a face to make a nymph weep.
“Telki Forrester, I'm just a young hind of Huorn”
“Well, Hind of Huorn, that was a sign if ever I saw one, and you were meant to get my attention. After this ceremony, we will find out why.”
Wemie's day was getting stranger and stranger. First her sister, who had some common sense she was sure at some point, steps out and disrupts a funeral, performs a miracle, and is swept off to who knows where by a gorgeous guy for who knows what. All the people around her were still murmuring about the miracle. It was really hard for Wemie to navigate her bulk in a crush like this, but she was going to have to. Huorn's light, but she hated cities, and solemnly vowed to never set foot in one again, except by divine decree.
Bit by bit, Wemie finally inched free of the crushing masses, only to find she had no idea where she was, or how she'd gotten there. But she did recognize the pack slung across the fellow trying to quickly and nonchalantly make his escape. “What are you doing with my pack, you scumbag!” There is nothing more frightening than a charging wemic full of righteous fury.... The fellow took flight. Wemie, however, was too fast for him, she grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and shook him like a ragdoll. “What do you mean attempting to steal my pack?”
“Forgive me, mighty Mistress! I only took the pack to support my poor sick children! They're wasting away with Red pox, and I couldn't work anymore,... and my poor wife...”
“Now which wife would this be, Everett? The wife that died of that same red pox three years ago? The one that lost her life in a tragic fire last year, or the one crushed by a drunk elephant two weeks later?” A figure resolved itself from the nearby shadows to reveal a trim fellow in bardic finery. He swept a gallant bow to Wemie, ”Good evening madam, I could not let you be taken in by this man's blatant, and badly handled, falsehoods.” The flaunty feathered hat flourish allowed her a glimpse at a mobile face, much used to laughter and jests, and grey eyes that sparkled with humor. Slightly pointy ears peaked out of curling dark blonde hair, revealing at least partial elf heritage. “Orrin O'Cunnin, at your service. Bard by trade, Rescuer of Damsels by hobby.”
“And I should trust you because?” Wemie was fast developing a finely honed hatred for cities. The rats were everywhere, it seemed.
“Why madam, we just met! I don't expect you to open your arms to me, at least not immediately.” A humorous wink saved Orrin from a well placed punch. “You are more than capable of handling yourself, but, I hoped to earn that trust. Mayhap by showing you where that young lady you traveled with went?”
“She's my sister.”
“Now that is a story a Bard would pay money to learn! I'm afraid you are now stuck with my company, at least until I learn that.” Orrin picked up his lute, and jauntily lead the way out of the alley into a clearer part of town. “We'll simply deposit Everett with the next town Guardsman we meet. I understand they've been looking for him.”
“And my sister?”
“She'll no doubt wind up at the main palace. A young lady capable of that will certainly be given an Audience with Lord Paladinson.”
“Well, at least she'll be able to tell him what's been happening in HuornWood. Maybe he'll be able to help.”
“Oh?”
“People, mages and clerics both, have been disappearing. Abducted. The trail always peters out to nothingness, so there's nothing to follow....and the tracks are like nothing I've seen. Not orc, giantkin, or anything !” Wemie really wished she had the gift of gab like Telki. She felt she didn't explain the situation well enough at all.
“More and more the mystery around you deepens. Almost makes one believe in fate, it does. I think I know some people that will be very interested in your story, and for more than a story to create a fantastic Lay. How does “The Wemic's Lay,” sound?” Wemie noticed Orrin caressing a golden harp brooch, ....did she just see it sparkle in the dark?
Telki was now firmly confused, and utterly impressed. The grandiose palace overlooked the entirety of the city. Gideon found he was actually enjoying himself playing tour guide. Everything was new to her, and the only pall on the entire thing was remembering Justin: Justin in a musical duel with a minstrel, singing risque tunes in the park he was walking Telki through, Justin switching Gabriel's training blade for a painted wood one here in the bailey, Justin making their mother laugh . . . Telki laid her arm on his shoulder. “Tell me about him. It's clear he meant a lot to you.”
“It's absolutely amazing he ever finished training as a paladin. Mother was sure he'd choose the bard's path before it was over. He was forever bedeviling Gabriel, disrupting practice with jokes. . . . and making life that much brighter around him.” Gideon bowed his head, and covered his eyes with his hand. It wouldn't do to break down in public, he was a paladin of Tyr.
“I think I see a sheltered bower over there. The brush would hide us from eyes, if you like.” Telki couldn't help herself. The man had been naught but courteous and kind. She hugged his arm, and saw his huge chest heave a sigh. “ You could tell me about him without fear of interruption, or tears giving away your grief.”
“No, no. We have spoken of my troubles more than enough for now. I want to know what brought a dedicated forest priestess to Waterdeep. I'm sure it was for more than a funeral blessing .”
When he removed his hand, his beautiful brown eyes were bright and clear. No sign marred them of the grief storm that had been gathering. “But if you'd like some privacy to talk, we can certainly make use of the bower. “
“Yes, thank you. I'm not sure how well I'll keep my own composure once I start.” Gideon seated her in the secluded bower seat, and sat opposite her the circular stone bench. His eyes never left her face while she fidgeted with her tunic's hem. “Our trouble began about two weeks ago. I came home from tending some sick cubs, to find my house over turned and my mother missing. I tried to track her abductors, but lost them once I found where my mother's pendant had fallen. Wemie found me on the trail, and told me all magic users, secular and holy, were missing from our area. The attackers are even beyond her means to track them, and they are of no species we know. That's when we came here to find help.”
Telki worried when she saw Gideon's eyes narrow, and his fists clench. “Those damned Drow.....” Telki had yet to hear him growl like that. It more like something from a wounded, and deadly, animal rather than a human's throat. Telki whipped around to watch the pacing Gideon. How had he managed to get there so fast? “What do you mean? She found no sign of Drow. How do you know it's them?”
“We'll need to speak to Lord Paladinson as soon as he's free this evening. There'll be no time to loose. First we'll take out the pack responsible for Justin's death, and get information from them on what they're planning.” Gideon had already forged ahead, unmindful of the young lady tugging on his arm, trying to get his attention. Telki had had enough.
Gideon quickly found himself back to his senses when his back hit the floor, the fine young lady he'd been succoring replaced by a very large tiger sitting on his chest. Once the tiger had his full attention, the tiger shifted to a semi state. “What are you going on about? How do you know it's the drow? And don't you ever tune me out like that again!”
“You're a weretiger?”
“You mean the striped hair and golden eyes weren't a dead giveaway?”
Evening at Lord Paladinson's castle was a whirlwind of sights, sounds, and textures that left her poor senses reeling. The clutter of sensory input had overloaded her ability to process long ago. She had taken to simply smiling and nodding at everyone. Luckily, Gideon did not seem to mind the deathgrip she kept on his well tailored arm, and intercepted a lot of the questions coming her way. How he had found a gown her size, Telki wasn't sure, but it fit like it had been custom made for her. Which begged the question: when had he taken her measurements, and why didn't she remember enjoying it?
“Telki!” A voice she knew since infancy cut across the clamor like a deep struck bell note. The crowds parted as if by magic, as several hundred pounds of wemic , ....was that a ball gown? came barreling down on her. Telki simply threw her arms out, and embraced her sister back.
“I am so glad to see you!” Telki whispered into her Sister's golden mane. Her hair always smelled like sweet summer sun. It didn't matter what fragrance was used to wash it. Her own wonderful scent always came through.
'What possessed you to run off from me like that? Do you know what I've had to do to find you?” Wemie put Telki down, and fixed her with the requisite big sister stare.
“I'm sorry, it seemed necessary when I stepped forward. I certainly didn't mean to get carted off. How did you find me again?”
“A bard helped me, named Orrin O'Cunnin.”
“O'Cunnin is here tonight?” Gideon's dark eyes started scanning the room for the bard. “Ladies, I must speak with him for a bit. If you'll excuse me?”
“Yes, we're this evenings entertainment, he's setting up by the Great Hearth.”
“'We?' Oh Wemie, you're to dance for us?”
“Unfortunately. I might wind up banned from the palace after this.“
Now that Telki had her sister and something to look forward to, the party had become bearable, even at times, enjoyable. Despite her sister's dire outlook on her dance performance, Telki knew better. Nothing was more graceful than a Wemic in dance. She'd seen Wemie dance before, when she thought no one was watching her. She might not remember her life with her tribe, but her body sure did. Maybe it was a kind of racial memory. This time, when a curious courtier came up to her, the smile was genuine.
Gideon saw Orrin setting up right where Wemie? had said he would be: next to the great hearth. Watching him set yet another instrument up, Gideon idly wondered how he transported them all, and then noticed the peculiar pack behind him: a rather large bag of holding. Gideon's lips quirked. Orrin was either a very wealthy bard, a very stealthy bard, or a well connected bard.
Turning over what little he'd heard of the bard, there was nothing to indicate he wasn't all three.
“To what do I owe this most auspicious visit from the Grimmest Brother?” The man had ears like a bat, too.
“Something tells me you already have a fair idea, since you came with the conundrum's 'sister'.”
“Ah yes, those two are fit fodder for a full cycle of songs in and of themselves. But my sources tell me none of it is fabricated: Magical users are disappearing in HuornWood, Secular and Clerical alike. My sources also tell me they aren't being kidnapped by anything natural, either. “ Orrin finally looked up from the mandolin he was tuning, and held Gideon's piercing black gaze. “that includes Drow, Gideon.”
Now, he had a quandary. Which came first? His duty to his brother, or this, more mysterious and possibly more menacing duty? What could be more menacing than Drow?
“Oh, I'm glad you came to me, I have a message for you: Blackstaff wants a meeting in the morning.”
Yep, Orrin definitely had connections in high places. Blackstaff was a law unto himself. Rumor held that he was one of the hidden lords of Waterdeep. No one was brave, or foolish, enough to ask him outright. “What time, and where, Orrin?”
“We are to present ourselves at the base of the Black Tower at nine sharp, the rest will handle itself. This includes the girls, of course.”
“Of course.”
By the time Gideon rejoined Telki, he had decided that the Drow problem looked like it would have to wait. That rankled. It literally felt like an itch he couldn't reach to scratch, and it was clawing its way inside his deepest marrow.
“What did Orrin say to cause such thunderclouds on your brow?”
“What?” Gideon pulled himself out of his musings to gaze at the pixie face at his elbow.
“That lady was coming to talk to us, and you glared at her so fiercely, she turned and ran.”
“Lady Huxley? She can run?”
“Like a rabbit through high grass.”
Morning found the sisters waiting with their newfound friends at the base of Blackstaff's tower. None of them slept very well, wondering what may ensue, so they had all gathered early to talk and wonder...and on the slight chance Blackstaff might see them early. They had talked themselves silent, and were now waiting.
This gave Telki plenty of time to muse about last night, and the unenlightening meeting with Paladinson. The rest of the evening had passed uneventfully, considering. Wemie's rendition of the Fahlnalla, the Spring Rains, was well received, and earned her three marriage proposals, six offers of employment (one which had to be carried out on a stretcher because of the nature of the job), and accolades from everyone.
This also made the evening meal interesting as well. Telki had a hard time keeping up with the different discussions at dinner. Why were they there? How did Huorn's favor enter the City at all? Where did Wemie learn to dance? Did Telki dance, too? Had they heard about the Drow incursions? and were they really here because of all the disappearances?
It literally made Telki's head swim. She almost ran to the private meeting chamber when Gideon called her back there to speak with Lord Paladinson. He already knew about the situations, and the meeting with Blackstaff. What a waste of time!
“Sir, do you know what it might be about?” Gideon was doing his best to get the reticent old Lord to talk. The infuriating lord just smiled at them. While the snow white mane and tall, firm stature spoke of duty and dignity, there was a sparkle in the brilliant blue eyes that mentioned mischief now and again. “I will tell you this: you are waiting for someone, and that will give you time to you desire to clear out those Drow camps. It needs doing, they will only continue to invade, harass, and kill until they are stopped. I think you and Gabriel would do just that. I understand we have offers from the Huornites and Mielikki rangers to help, as well.
Gideon was downright giddy the rest of the meeting. Suddenly, Telki had a new nickname for him.
“Well, such punctual guests, welcome to my abode.” Suddenly, there was a door where there wasn't before, and everyone filed through. Blackstaff himself greeted them as they passed through. Although his tower was naught but bare black stone outside, inside was vastly different. Wide windows gave sweeping views of the city and harbor. Sumptuous furniture in soothing hues invited them to sit and relax.
“I know why you are here, moreover, I know what needs to be done. More than a few of my students and friends were among the abducted.” Blackstaff paced in front of them. He waved his hand in front of one of the windows, and the view shifted to that of a piratical dressed drow at the helm of a very strange ship.....sailing amongst the stars? Telki felt her jaw drop, and Gideon's arm tighten.
“Her name is Feral. She is NOT a typical drow, and you will need her help and cooperation.” Blackstaff planted himself in front of Gideon. “Do I need to repeat what I just said?”
Telki waited with held breath for an explosion that did not come. Eventually the tension drained out of Gideon, and he nodded silent assent. The muscle in his jaw, however, just kept jumping.
“Sir, will you tell us just WHAT in Huorn's name is going on?” Telki could stand it no longer, she wanted answers, and she wanted them now.
“A vampire has found a way to become a god, and you, fortunate child, get to stop him.” Blackstaff turned the full power of his gaze on Telki. Staring up into that somber and knowing visage made her feel very young, and very small .
“And you must stay in your tower whilst we do the dangerous stuff....why?” Orrin seemed an old hand at this, and he was idly flipping a coin across the back of his fingers. His eyes were gleefully cataloging the different magical goodies in the room. His interest in the arcane arts bordered on obsession, and he was finally where he'd longed to be for ages.
“Because, ye daft child o' mine, that creature's naught the only threat he's a-dealing with!” A voice to send chills down Orrin's spine rang out, and his father's familiar figure emerged from the far doorway.
“Did ye really think they'd let you run amok on somethin' this important?” Very pronounced ears appeared in thick curly white hair as the old bard swept a graceful bow to Telki and Wemie. “Gibbon O'Cunnin at yer service. An' ye lovely ladies must be Telki and Wemie, I've heard much about ye from my current company” Even as he straightened, two white, striped figures rushed around him to give Telki and Wemie enthusiastic hugs.
“Whaddaya mean runnin' off to have adventures without us!” scolded one. Ama, dressed in dark, form fitting clothing, squeezed Telki till she thought her ribs would crack.
“Wemie! You'll never guess! I'm apprenticed to Blackstaff! Isn't it exciting?” Nala was bouncing on her toes as she rapid fired the news at Wemie. All she could do was nodd in the appropriate places.
Gideon looked over to his brother, Gabriel. “My god, there's more of them?”
“And isn't she a sight!” Gideon's eyebrows rose, as he followed his brother's star struck gaze to the one called Ama. If it weren't for the stark difference in attire, he'd be hard put to tell them apart.
Once the twins had made greetings with everyone, Wemie finally asked the question Telki had been wanting answered. “What are you guys doing here?”
“Well, they tried to take Nala. Fortunately, I was there.” Ama beamed as if she'd saved the day all by herself.
“What saved the day was a Refuge bead your Mom had left” Nala noticed the blank looks, so she decided to explain further. “A Refuge bead transports a person somewhere else, usually the caster's home. So, Ama's little alarms went off, I saw they weren't like anything we'd ever seen, broke the bead, and wound up in what was left of y'all's house.”
“Soon as she vanished, I pulled a disappearing act of my own. Either they couldn't find me, or weren't interested in me.”
“From what I've seen of your skills lass, I'd say they couldna find ye.” Gibbon thoughtfully scratched his chin, and eyed the girl in a measuring manner. Orrin had only seen that look once before, when his father tried to teach him the craft his way. What was he contemplating?
“Correct. Or they would have used you to capture Nala the way they used their father to capture their mother.” Blackstaff smoothly interjected himself into the conversation.
“What?” Telki and Wemie both were shocked at the news. How'd Blackstaff know that, anyway?
“Oh, come to the scrying mirror, and see the whole thing for yourself.” Blackstaff waved again at the “window”, Feral disappeared from view to be replaced by a kitchen they knew well. There was their mother, preparing poultices and tinctures, when a loud crash from the door heralded the arrival of the attackers. They seemed to move in the midst of a billowing, sickly mist, and they never could get a clear picture of them. They saw their mother fight the mist, and whatever creatures were in it, using every spell and trick she knew. Then they saw their father presented, trussed like game for slaughter. The fight goes out of her, and she's carted off.
"Even with the best augmentations magic can give, it will still take her a month to reach us. I've already altered her flight. In that month, I want all your Drow business concluded. Understand?" Blackstaff felt the curtain of gloom even as it fell over the girls. He decided to end the audience quickly, so the girls could comfort each other in private. It was no easy thing to see someone loved carted off so ignomiously.
“It will be dealt with much quicker than that, I promise you.” Between Gideon's iron jaw, and Gabriel's icey eyes, Blackstaff had no doubts whatsoever, that those Drow would soon be joining the dearly departed. “Very well. Gibbon, I trust you and Orrin will stay here, and help with the preparations?”
“Oh, I'll stay, alright, but I think Orrin would best serve escorting these fair ladies about, don' ye think?” Gibbon quirked an eyebrow at Blackstaff, as if reminding him silently of something.
“But I think I could be of more use to you here.....” Orrin quickly interjected, at which an almost visible idea struck Blackstaff.
“No, I think your father is right. While the paladins are dealing with their duty to Paladinson, you would be most helpful in acquainting the ladies with Waterdeep, and making their wait palatable.”
“But...”
“It's settled boy, donna make a scene.”
“Yes,” A noticable pause then a grudging “sir.” Even Telki, as morose as she was, easily envisioned the sulky young child in Orrin's answer.
This was how a battle field should always look: tired but victorious knights congratulating each other on a good fight, few losses, and the field strewn with clean kills. Even now, the squires and knights still able were dragging the fallen into a huge pyre. It would not do to leave them for scavengers, even if they were Drow. No, a pyre blessed in Tyr's name was always the best revenge against the Spider Queen. Anything to irk that Hellbound demones.
“Better?” Gabriel pulled his warhorse in next to Gideon, and surveyed the field that had so captured his brother's musings.
“No. It didn't bring Justin back. As good as it would feel to put my mace through Lloth's skull, even that wouldn't bring him back. Tyr's hammer, but I miss him.”
“I miss him, too.” Gabriel's brows drew down together, as a puzzling thought occurred to him.
“Spit it out, brother, before your brows knot.”
“How did you know to send a flanking contingent around that hill? It still puzzles me that you knew they were there.”
“It's how they caught Justin.” Gideon heaved a sigh, and folded his arms over the pommel. “I studied the site, wondering how they were able to take that village as fast as they did, considering they had both rangers and paladins to help defend it. They came at them from two sides.
“But we caught them camping!”
“Did you really think a mounted calvary was going to catch them unawares?” Gideon moved his horse on down into the field, still shaking his head at his brother.
After inspecting and caring for the wounded, Gideon decided to pay a visit to their “special guest” Under heavy guard, and eyed like a squashed bug, was a wounded drow. Gideon surrepitously cast his detect lie spell, and sat down opposite of the prisoner. “Why was your war party sent here? What does Lloth want with this place?”
The prisoner was surprised to hear his own language spoken by such a one as Gideon. So caught off guard was he, that he allowed his eyebrows to nearly reach his hairline. However, the surprise was quickly replaced by mirth that had him clutching his wounded chest. “She doesn't, doesn't want this place. No, she wants chaos and death. She hates the high elves and any that help them. She wants you all dead.”
Gideon, through clenched teeth asked. “And you? What do you want?”
The drow laughed again. “It matters not. One of your men used my own blade on me. The poison has already spread. I will be seeing my queen momentarily..” A spasm shook the dark elf's frame, leaving him limp and panting for breath.
Gideon watched without sympathy. Once the spasm passed, he leaned down close to the elf's face. “When you see your precious queen, tell her I'll be sending her more of her subjects.” A thought occurred to him that put a humorless smile on his face. “Tell her to get used to disappointment, too.” Gideon quickly pushed himself away from the dying drow, every muscle tense, and attempted to pace some it out.
“Gideon, what did he say?” Gabriel quickly caught up to his pacing brother.
“There'll be more attacks, Gabriel. I don't know where, I don't know when, but this was just the first foray. The Spider Queen has declared war on the surface dwellers, centered on the high elves, and their allies.”
“Isn't that pretty much everyone?” Gabriel stopped in his tracks, as the scope of the Spider Queen's ambitions struck him full force.
“Everyone we care about, anyway.” Gideon mounted up, and pulled his horse around. “And I have only a month to unravel this entire mess. Blackstaff had better damn well have some answers for me this time.”
“What am I to do then?” Gabriel watched his brother in amazement. Was he really leaving?
“You've been on enough campaigns. You know what to do, and you're in charge of the troops for now. Act like it.”
“What?” Gabriel called after his thundering form. “You never leave me in charge!”
Gabriel turned to survey the men, his men for now, in consternation. What to do now? Well, he thought, what would Gideon have them do now? “I guess we rest, pack up, and head home. Right? Right...” Why in Tyr's name did Gideon leave him like this?
Gideon pulled up fast in front of Blackstaff's tower. He was slightly surprised to find a door open for him, especially since there was no door at all the last time he was here. Never the less, he didn't nearly wear his horse to foundering getting here to hang back now. Back straight and shoulders squared, Gideon made his way in.
“And here he is. Don't worry Gideon, your horse is already being cared for properly. “ Gideon followed the voice to a dimly lit sitting type room, vastly different from the rooms they had previously visited. The furniture was simpler, the colors more brown and green, and there, beside Blackstaff's familiar robed figure, sat a very solemn looking ranger in dark brown, almost black leathers. If danger were personified, this man would be it. Point of fact, perhaps he was danger personified.
“This is Draegar, one of my contacts. I summoned him as soon as I scryed the information that drow gave you.”
“And how will he help?”
“By giving you the Drow staging area?” The man's voice was a perfect match to image he presented: quiet and deadly.
“You know where it is?” Gideon raised an eyebrow at that.
“Scouted it myself. They'll think they have a bad wild cave lizard problem, if they find the bodies.”
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