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Tales of Faerun


AurianaValoria1

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Theron whistled softly at Ianthe's statement and resettled his wings, reluctantly turning his head away from Boota.

 

Rhaine placed a hand on Nawen's shoulder, "Think nothing about it, my friend. I'm just glad to see you safe."

 

She then nodded at Xallistine's remark, "Indeed. Even though we might need to rest, evil will not. Let's get back to our horses and find this fortress of Ravenna's. We've no time to waste."

 

With that, she followed the Ulitharid away from Maraiel's lair.

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Echo had a very short attention span when it came to treasure; upon hearing the Doomguide's invitation, she turned and ran farther inside the cave. Mahira's eyebrows shot up as she watched her overeager friend disappear. "In that state, she'd probably lay claim to Xallistine's wand if he left it unattended." Shaking her head in disbelief, the Calishite took her leave of Rhaine and Nawen and followed the halfling.

 

The pair filled their coin purses as quickly as they could. For her part, Echo paid little attention to what she was picking up; if it was small and reflective, she grabbed it.

 

"Make haste," Mahira said. "Time is of the essence here." In the end, she nearly had to drag her friend away.

 

"I didn't know a banshee's lair could be so ... profitable," Echo said as they left the cave behind. She would've turned and looked wistfully behind her, if not for Mahira's firm grip on her shoulder.

 

"The two of us alone would never have survived such an encounter," the Calishite muttered. "There is no profit for the dead."

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Tak'we stumbled through the mists, sides heaving in exhaustion and pain. He'd been running for what felt like several hours now, his endurance starting to meet its limits. The wound in the thri'kreen's side was throbbing, oozing ichor and releasing a horrid stench. A dagger had managed to pierce his chitin, and had released a poison into his lifeblood, slowly overwhelming his senses. Cruel softskins, Tak'we thought, clicking in pain and frustration. Why can they not leave this one alone?

 

The former slave had been on a simple courier job, making sure that the messenger he had been with made it safely to the next softskin village. The job had gone well, no thieves or creatures had attacked them, but when the thri'kreen went to accept his payment, at the local tavern, the trap was sprung. The courier mission was a plot made by Tak'we's former master's son to lure him to a place where the fighter could be easily captured. It almost worked, Tak'we rued as he clutched his wound, but they were not good hunters... The slavers surprised him, stabbing Tak'we with the poisoned dagger as planned, but capturing the thri'kreen was a different matter: Thri'kreen were notoriously resistant to toxins, so before the poison could take full effect, Tak'we had managed to leave half a dozen of the bounty hunters dead and fled the village.

 

He'd fled to the nearby forest, hoping to hide from his hunters, but they were persistant, skilled trackers, and the dagger wound was taking its toll.

And now this horrid mist! Tak'we kept running, stumbling now, using his gythka to help support him. The mists began to clear now, showing a cave. Tak'we paused, not wanting to enter what may become a stone prison, but he could hear his pursuers behind him, so he started for the cave, praying to the spirits to protect him. As the mists cleared further, he paused as he noticed that the cave was occupied already... and someone...or something...was coming out of it. It looked like one of the pointy-eared softskins. She was in heavy metal armor that not unlike those Tak'we had crafted when he was a slave, and had a bastard sword that rested easily at her side, but that was not what gave him pause. It was the fact she had wings! And it appeared that she had more allies inside.

 

Torn between choosing the unknown party before him and the hunters behind him, Tak'we couldn't decide what to do. But then the slavers entered the clearing, twelve of them, smug looks on their faces. "There you are, Bugman," the leader of the group spoke, one of the dark-colored softskins from the place of Takwe's captivity. "A merry chase you've given us. I'm almost impressed. But no slave escapes from me. Tak'we gave a menacing hiss at that comment. "Oh, look, lads. Looks like the master's pet doesn't want to play nice." The slavers chuckled and drew their weapons. "Remember, boys. The master will give us a bonus if we take it alive." The hunters yelled and charged toward the wounded thri'kreen. Given a direct threat, Tak'we did not hesitate between the two parties. "Thiss one will die firssst!" Tak'we hissed, and let loose a piercing screech and readied his gythka, knowing he would die there but prepared to take as many of the bounty hunters with him...

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The Doomguide suddenly heard a large commotion to her right. She instinctively drew Touch of Death, calling to her companions, "On guard, everyone!"

 

A ways into the forest she could see twelve men bearing down on...

 

What in the Nine Hells is that thing?

 

It reminded her somewhat of a formian, only bigger and slenderer. It wielded a formidable weapon, but it was obviously wounded. It would not last long in this fight.

 

And why would twelve men be after it?

 

The insectoid let out an earsplitting screech that echoed throughout the woods, causing Theron to leap from her shoulders and into the air with an answering cry. Rhaine glanced at Nawen and Ianthe. Both were rangers...perhaps they would know what was going on.

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Tak'we speared the first slaver that closed with him and kicked the dead softskin off of his gythka. He spun the bladed staff, deflecting a blow from the second foe into a third, wounding that hunter. The thri'kreen slashed at the second man with his lower claws, tearing open his throat. The third man struck out as Tak'we did this, scoring him on his already bleeding wound. He screeched in pain and stabbed his attacker, finishing that one off.

 

One of the slavers threw a spear at him, forcing him to duck, further aggravating his wound. Tak'we hissed pain as he rose to defend against the next three hunters, desparately trying to avoid their blades. He managed to slash one of them from shoulder to hip, but received another wound, this time on his upper right arm. Tak'we screech, pulling his arm close to him and lashed out at the fifth man, slicing off his arm. The thri'kreen tried to spin out of the sixth attacker's reach, but the poison, coursing through his body now, slowed his reactions down, and he took a blow to his leg, spilling his lifeblood. He grabbed the spear thrown at him earlier and spitted the slaver where he stood.

 

Tak'we was trying to keep his grip on his gythka, his vision beginning to blur. He shook his head in defiance, hissing in anger. He attempted to raise his weapon, but as he did so, a whip shot out and managed to rip it from his grasp. Another slaver tried to strike him with a club, but Tak'we summoned enough energy to block it with one of his lower arms, stopping the blow but breaking his arm in the process. He reached out and grabbed the man with his good arm and began crushing his windpipe. A crossbow shot out and wounded Tak'we again in his abdomen, delivering more of the paralyzing poison, which had been increased in potency since their first encounter. His world began to spin, blackness beginning to appear at the corners of his vision, but he refused to relinquish his grip on the slaver struggling to free himself, face turning a sickly blue. Then a heavy blow landed between Tak'we's shoulders, knocking him to the ground and releasing the seventh hunter, who gasped and coughed violently while the other slavers began tying the wounded thri'kreen up with heavy chains.

 

Tak'we glanced up, seeing the lead bounty hunter smirking at him with contempt. "Nooo...pleassse," he begged the softskin, weakly struggling against his bonds, "... not the chainsss...not again..." The leader grinned maliciously, "Sorry, Bugman," he taunted," but no slave escapes, especially a wild animal like you. And this is for killing my men." With that, the Calishite struck Tak'we against the head, knocking him out cold.

Edited by GrueMaster
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Mahira was visibly angered; the prisoner's treatment at the hands of his captors turned her stomach. She had heard rumors of the creature's noble kind living in the Calim Desert, but had never before seen one in person. Recognizing the mercenaries' leader as her countryman, she spoke to him directly. "I have no love for bounty hunters. You call this mantis warrior 'slave?' 'Animal?' How then should I address one such as you, abdal* of vermin? A leech is nearer to the gods!" Following the Doomguide's lead, she drew her scimitars.

 

The halfling looked wildly round at her companions, and saw that Rhaine held her bastard sword at the ready. Twelve against one, she thought, yet half lie dead by his hand! She pulled one of her daggers from its sheath, eyeing the distance between herself and the nearest mercenary.

 

 

*Translates as "servant" from Calishite Alzhedo, a form of the Alzhedo language spoken in Calimshan.

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The leader of the slavers sneered at Mahira, seeing that she was also a Calishite. "Silence, woman!" he snarled at her. "How dare you speak to a man that way!" He brandished his sword at the Calishite woman and motioned his remaining men to fan out around the trio. "This... beast," the bounty hunter waved at the unconscious Tak'we, "killed twelve of my men, and it's wanted for butchering my master's father, and I'll be damned if two weak women and a mere child will keep me from collecting my reward!" He looked at the three women in contempt, Mahira in particular, as he strode arrogantly up to them. "We outnumber you women. Be silent and let us be on our way, or we'll show you what men can do." Edited by GrueMaster
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Aricia rode up so she was level with Rhaine and Mahira, her ten-headed flail spinning violently in one of her delicate hands. Her brown eyes were fixed on the man who spewed sexist remarks about mens superiority... Oh the amount of his kind she had bloodied to a pulp... "And what's that then? Smell more than you do already? Stumble at us with clumsy moves and over exaggerated battle cries? Oh please... I don't think you know what you are up against, little Man." A smirk formed on her moist lips.

 

Xallistine, hearing all of the commotion, rode up to see what looked like a giant Mantis being attacked by Calishite's, and judging by what he had heard, they were slavers. Their actions provoked no emotion from the Ulitharid, in many ways he was distant from his kind, but there were some instincts, some parts of his nature he could not suppress, and one of those was the tolerance of slavery. His own slaves were treated well, but it seemed that this creature had been wounded. "It would be a fruitless endeavour to capture the... insect now, he would fetch a terrible price at any market. I suggest you hold your weapon, or i shall be forced to show you what a real slaver can do." This whole confrontation was for now a battle of tongues, one that the strong, and independent women of this group would definitely win, Xallistine only hoped his appearance would unnerve the foolish slaver and his men.

 

-------------------

 

"You speak the truth Aedan, the gods have given me nothing... so i am faithless, just as you are." She explained, as they continued on.

 

It wasn't long until they reached the Banshee's cave, looking around Ravenna could see that it had been recently disturbed, fresh ashes of an undead creature lay scattered across the ground, and the treasure trove was disturbed and pillaged. "No!" Ravenna raged, throwing a fit of violent anger as she hurled the treasure at the cave's hard walls, sending valuable gems flying everywhere. "It has been taken... The Doomguide and her companions have my pommel." She ran her fingers through her hair in frustration, but stood once more. "We must push on, i shall have to do this without the daggers full power... Come, Aedan, our final destination awaits." Ravenna turned with a swish of her cape, and continued on, following a different path than that of the doomguide and her companions, heading away from the cave, away from the fort, with the intent of reaching the banks of the River Rauvin.

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Rhaine was not one for pulling rank, but this slaver had gone far enough. She narrowed her eyes, tightening her grip on her sword, allowing the eerie green flames to return to its edge. Her voice was low, tinged with a dangerous fury.

 

"I would choose your next words very carefully, little man. You address the Chosen of Kelemvor, and you are impeding a mission of the utmost importance to the security of the Realms. You would dare insult me, and therefore insult my Lord Kelemvor? The god who possesses sole power over your fate in the afterlife? You would incite the wrath of the Judge of the Damned, all for the sake of a mere slave who is close to death? You are a bigger fool than any woman could ever be.

 

"Release your prisoner at once...or you will find yourself kneeling at my god's feet much sooner than you anticipated...little man," she warned, fully ready to fight these men to release the so-called "beast." She had just witnessed it slay six hunters in a matter of seconds...this was no simple slave, and her instincts told her that this was no simple bounty situation, either.

Edited by AurianaValoria1
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The bounty hunters began to step away from Rhaine and the others, shaken by their words. Even through his dark skin, one could tell that the Calishite slaver had become pale with fear. He regretted his arrogant words now, no longer confidant that his men could withstand such a powerful group. He glanced back at Tak'we's form on the ground, torn between leaving the incredibly large (and costly) bounty or dying right there and then and not have anything. "Stand down, men," he sighed, "They've won here. Leave the Bugman. Let's leave this place. " And they turned around and left, leaving the unconscious thri'kreen where it lay chained, the Calishite hoping that the punishment that he'll surely receive from his master would not kill him. I'll be back, slave. he thought glancing at the thri'kreen with hatred. One day or another. Then he followed his men out of the forest. Edited by GrueMaster
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