Tales of Faerun

[AurianaValoria1]

Rhaine followed the old woman closely until she entered the clearing. There lay Aricia, all of her possessions still with her. Rhaine approached carefully, touching the elf on the neck. There was no pulse.

 

She then glanced up and saw something written on the tree, scrawled in an elegant hand right into the bark itself.

 

Thank you, and good luck.

 

The Doomguide nodded solemnly. So the Archfey had known her death was coming, and she had resigned herself to it. There was nothing Rhaine could do.

 

After a few breaths of silence, she looked over her shoulder at the old woman, "Goodlady, I will need a gravedigger."

Edited January 27, 2013 by AurianaValoria1

[Flipout6]

Amendale had stood up instantly at the reports that one of Rhaine's friends was dead, and was out like a shot after her. Weyland had never seen him move so fast. Deciding that should the woman's death have been the result of something other than natural causes there could be a fight, Weyland stood up and went after him, still chewing a piece of bacon.

 

Amendale arrived right beside Rhaine, and took a moment to behold the scene. A make-shift death note, and the dead woman in diamonds. He, too, checked her pulse. Nothing. He attempted a healing spell, perhaps to reactivate her heart, but nothing happened.

 

"I may be a healer, but I cannot resurrect the dead. Looks like we will need a gravedigger after all....." Amendale said somberly, and bowed his head in respect. Weyland, feeling rather awkward (and sorry for Rhaine) followed suit.

[josh900]

Tannin walked down the stairs as Rhaine, Weyland, and Amendale left with the old woman. Shrugging it off he ordered some breakfast and sat at a table at the far end of the room away from the others. Knowing his moods first thing in the morning he found it best that he stayed away from those he was traveling with when he first woke up. After finishing his meal he put his hands up onto the table and rested his chin on them completely oblivious to what was going on outside.

[GrueMaster]

Tak'we was thrashing in the bed, a dark dream tormenting him.

 

There was black smoke everywhere, and the clash of weapons filled the air. Tak'we, now a scrawny nymph barely over three in height, ran through the haze, trying to find his mother. "Clutch-Mother!" he cried, hacking as he breathed in the toxic air, "Where are you?" He came into a clearing and saw her then, relief rushing through him. "Clutch-Mother!" the young thri'kreen called out, running to her. "What's going on?"

 

His mother Tic'che noticed him, then. "Tak'we! What are you doing here!?" she yelled, "Get out of here!" What happened next would scar Tak'we forever.

 

As his mother cried out her warning, an armored figure on a horse rode out of the smoke, and struck her down from behind. Tak'we looked on in horror at his mother's broken body, unable to move. The figure dismounted and stepped slowly over to his mother, blade raised for a killing blow. Tic'che struggled to move away, but was too weak to get up. She looked at Tak'we and croaked what would be her last words. "Run, Tak'we..." Then down came the blade, silencing her forever.

 

"NOOOO!," the nymph cried out, rushing towards his clutch-mother's body and cradling it. "Mother..." Tak'we heard a cold, mocking laughter, then. The armored figure was laughing at him. Sorrow turned to anger as the young thri'kreen picked up Tic'che's gythka and tried to kill the one who murdered his mother. The figure tore the weapon from his grasp and backhanded him to the ground, laughing contemptuously. More figures came out of the smoke. "Azhad, are you alright, milord?"

 

"I am, despite the fact you weren't at my side just now," the armored figure snapped, causing the subordinate to cower in fear. Azhad looked back at Tak'we. "This bug here tried to gut me." Tak'we could make out a cruel smile on the man's face. "It'd be a good addition in the Arena, now wouldn't it? Chain it up and get ready to leave," the Calishite ordered." As for the rest of the village," he chuckled darkly as he remounted his horse. "Burn it."

 

Tak'we thrashed vainly against the raiders' grasp as they chained him up, completely defenseless against them. "Mother! NOO!!..."

 

"Tak'we, it's just a dream...," a voice echoed out.

 

The thri'kreen's agony and the village suddenly faded. "What's going on?" he asked in confusion as his surroundings faded back in, only to reveal a moonlit grove with a pond in the center, the full moon reflected upon the water. His home wasn't anywhere in sight, no smoke or dying screams, and he was fully grown once again.

 

"Thiss isn't thiss one's village," he murmured as he walked towards the pond. Tak'we noticed a lone figure kneeling by the water, a pale softskin female, but didn't feel suspicious of her. In fact, he felt...comforted... by her presence. "Who are you?' he asked, "What iss thiss place?" The pale softskin rose from where she knelt. "Tak'we, my child, can't you tell?"

 

He studied her for a moment. Her skin was the color of moonlight, her hair silver. And her eyes. They looked like full moons. "You- you're Mother Moon," he spoke with a sudden realization as he fell to his knees. The moon spirit, here!? "Indeed, child, I am Mother Moon, known as Selune among the other races." She gestured around at the clearing around her. "This is my grove. I have come here often. It is... peaceful here. One can feel safe here."

 

Tak'we nodded his head in agreement. He did feel at peace here, the nightmare he was having already fading. He looked at Selune, puzzled at her appearance here. "Mother Moon? Why are you here?" The thri'kreen did pray to the moon spirit, but he was no holy one.

 

"I have been watching you for a long time now. You have been through so much, dear," she replied. "Tonight, you prayed to me, from the very bottom of your heart, for my blessing. And I am here to give it." She stood in front of Tak'we. "You're very strong, my child. Despite everything the world has done to you, you haven't let it consume you. Many would have given up and died, but not you. I'm proud of you."

 

Selune held out a medallion and placed it in Tak'we's hand. "I want you to have this. It has my blessing upon it." He looked at the gift with wonder. It was wrought of fine silver, crafted to match the moon overhead. "This will give you strength when you have dire need of it, a light in the darkness. May it help you in your quest. Take care though," she warned, "you can only rely on it once." Then everything began to fade.

 

"What'ss happening?" Tak'we asked anxiously, not wanting to go just yet. "I'm sorry, Tak'we. The sun is rising, and I cannot speak during the day..." Her voice began to fade. "Mother Moon! Wait!" he cried out.

 

"Don't worry, my son... may the moon light your path..."

 

Tak'we awoke with a gasp, chest heaving as he tried to calm his heart. What was that? he wondered, then winced when he turned his head, the sunlight hurting his eyes. *Chak'Tck!* he cursed. It was morning and he'd left the window open all night. The thri'kreen stood up and swayed as his head began to ache.

 

As he shielded his eyes, he walked over to the window and shut it with a bang. He looked over to where the empty wine bottle lay. "Ooohh, never again..." It was then he noticed that something was in his hand. Tak'we gave a start as he recognized what it was. The medallion!? What happened last night? Then he shook his head trying to clear it. *Sssss!* Thisss one can ponder it later. Everyone elssse isss probably awake now..."

 

Not wasting another moment, he slipped the symbol around his neck and threw on his cloak, taking up his disguise once more, then grabbed his gythka and stumbled out the door, one hand clutching his head. Tak'we sighed. It was going to be a long day...

Edited January 27, 2013 by GrueMaster

[tokyobiohazard]

Ianthe woke up quite refreshed in one of the rooms of the inn, the covers pulled up to her nose. She stretched and rolled over, realizing Reona was nowhere to be found. She found it rather odd, and sat up. As she dressed, she heard someone yelping and a thud from one of the nearest rooms.

 

"Hm, I guess people are waking up in odd places after last night."

 

And how right she was. Arva opened his eyes as he woke up lying on his left side on a cramped bed, feeling heavy and tired. As he stretched, his fingers met the warmth of flesh. He released a yelp as he realized he was not only wearing loose trousers which barely seemed to fit, but there were two women passed out around him, and one curled up against his side. He clapped a hand over his mouth as his lips yanked themselves up at the corners.

 

"Score!" he blurted, before clapping his hands over his mouth again. The women around him stirred, before he recognized the one curled up at his side as Rena the half-orc from the previous night.

 

She held a hand to her head, her coarse black hair frizzed out in all directions.

 

Arva's face reddened deeply as he mumbled, "You look nice this morning."

 

He then noticed something which he hoped was a hallucination and he scrabbled his way backwards out of bed, landing on the ground with a harsh thud. He slicked his hair back with one hand, some of the white strands falling uselessly before his eyes again. There was a tall woman with short hair and a petite woman curled up rather close to her, and Arva released a sigh of relief.

 

Alphonse stirred and took in a deep breath as he rolled over, smoothly wrapping his arms around the girl next to him and pulling her close. His eyes widened as he noticed the mop of raven hair atop her head. "We didn't..."

 

Reona pressed her hands to her temple, shoving away the arms of... Alphonse? That couldn't be right. She turned over and blinked at the red-haired half-elf. "I feel like someone else was here..."

 

They soon noticed Arva twisted up in sheets which draped over the bed and into the floor.

 

He screamed, and they joined in.

[Ithildin]

When Echo finally woke, she felt disoriented for a moment, and wondered how long she'd slept. She sat up and looked around for her cuirass, noticed her empty wine glass and dinner plate, and suddenly remembered she was in Loudwater again. "Mahira!" she exclaimed aloud, as every detail of the previous night's conversation came rushing back to her. That was more than a dream, she thought. Mahira seemed to be herself, for the most part; if only I’d had more time to ask questions … thank the gods I will see her again! I need only wait for Shieldmeet, and the Feast of the Moon. I must remember to ask Lady Rhaine what she knows of Kelemvor’s realm. The knowledge that Mahira did not seem to be suffering came as a considerable relief, and emboldened her: she felt strong enough now to face whatever calamities might lie ahead in the Anauroch.

 

Donning her armor and weapons, the halfling picked up her coin purse and Mahira’s, and headed downstairs. Nodding politely to Tannin across the room, she sat down at the bar to have breakfast. She ate two bowls of porridge with apples and honey, and then asked the waitress for directions to Loudwater's bathhouse. The place was empty when she arrived, and not as elaborate as the Glistening Harem's bathhouse in Calimport, but certainly better than a lake or stream. She dried off and dressed, feeling refreshed, and then returned to her room for her saddlebags, all the while wondering where everyone else had gone. She carried her belongings downstairs and went out to the stable, fervently hoping her mare hadn't "disappeared" in the middle of the night.

[Macman253]

Rhaine and the lady tore out of the tavern at the news of someones death, He got up. Tossed a silver on the table and followed, there he found an elven woman resting against a tree. Carved into the wood of the tree was a elegantly written message. He did not know the woman but she seemed to die in peace, secretly he envied her. He bowed his head in respect. Good deaths are so hard to obtain, and to do it on your own terms is a good way to die.

 

He spoke a few words in Gith, the words his people spoke to help pass on the spirits of the dead. "Walk the many planes in peace and harmony, may you always have a sword at your side and the wind at your back." He said as he placed his fist across the center of his chest. He did not know the woman and by her allies reactions she was well liked. It's sad he never got to meet her.

 

He looked over to see Weyland mourning with the rest, out of respect of he dead he paid no mind to him and their distrust of one another. "I will leave you to your grief..." He said as he turned away, he hardened his heart for fear of getting close as he departed he looked to the elven woman. "Rest well..." He said as he left to gather supplies for their trip.

[mythicdawnmaster]

Little Old Monica bowed her head respectfully, and rushed off to find the gravedigger, who wasn't too far, as his house sat overlooking the graveyard. Monica knocked on the door frantically, until the black robed man exited his home, his face turning sombre as Monica explained the events.

 

After a few minutes, he and the old lady returned to the clearing, the gravedigger's black hood over his head. "By Kelemvor... I am so sorry for the loss that has befallen you all. I shall not charge for this burial." he spoke softly, looking at the body of the Arch-fey, who seemed so at peace. "There is a little plot near a blossom tree should you like... secluded from the rest. I shall ready the earth." He concluded, walking off to the cemetery.

 

"There are caskets in the shop, would you like to bring her?" Monica asked.

[AurianaValoria1]

Rhaine shook her head, "I think it is best we leave her here for now. Weyland, Amendale? Make sure no one disturbs Aricia while I'm gone," she turned to the old woman, "Goodlady, if you will lead the way, I'll choose one. We'll have the assistants bring it to her."

[mythicdawnmaster]

"Of course." Little Old Monica said, slowly leading the way to the shop, opening the door, and stepping inside. It was dimply lit, but finely kept, all of the coffins were clearly of good quality, and some more ornate than others, gesturing to a triplet of coffins by the side of the room, she said "Those are the best ones i think, Jolden always goes on about the fine wood he used for them. But don't worry about the price, only a heartless merchant would hassle for for money on a day like today." Monica said, figuring from the elf's appearance, she liked finery, her voice soft and frail.