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Tales of Faerun


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Tak'we nodded to his clutchmate and began working quickly, his claws easily digging through the scorched earth and sand. After digging to about the man's waist, the thri'kreen moved his legs for a better stance, then started pulling the softskin out.

 

For a moment, the man was stuck fast, and with Tak'we's strength, he would have been pulled in half, but the earth finally gave way with a shifting of sand, and out came the poor fellow. The thri'kreen cradled the softskin, then set him down in front of Rhaine. "Mighty Sun doesss not like thisss softsskin," Tak'we murmured, eyeing the severe burns on the man.

 

 

 

"Right." Kalin turned and rushed back to the camp, searching for Rhaine's pack. He found it and pulled out a healing kit, then ran back to Rhaine. "Here you go," the elan spoke as he handed the kit to the priestess, along with his water skin. "Here's some water, too." Kalin watched as Tak'we pulled the man clear of the ground, wincing at the sight. I bet that felt good, he thought, grimacing. The thri'kreen nearly tore him in half!

 

As the insectoid set the man down, the solknife covered him with his coat to help keep out the cold desert air. He glanced at Rhaine with a concerned look. "Poor sod. Looks like he's been here for a few days."

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Xallistine chuckled at Rhaine's severe promise, her religion was a hard one to keep to, but she did it admirably well. He knew of the vows she took, and her church meant more than her Companions. He would never, unless completely necessary do anything that would endanger their bond, their friendship- Lichdom would cast a deadly rift between them, and the victor of such a fight would be hard to determine. But it would certainly solve problems such as the one they faced now- as an Alhoon, his skin would be dry, having no need of moisture, ever again. But the idea was lost to him as Kalin approached with a kind gesture.

 

"Thank you, Kalin. Such kindness will not go unpaid, i promise." The Ulitharid bowed his head, and took a carefull scoop of the mixture, applying it where he needed it. He was half expecting them to be hostile for the whole duration of the Journey, but clearly such things were out of the question- he respected the Elan for his generosity, and would ensure his secretive nature stay hidden. It was just as well none of his fellows were Psioniscists.

 

Hearing the cry of shock from Tannin, the Ulitharid looked around in surprise. But after hearing it was just a head in the sand, he neglected to go and check- people died in the sands all the time, and if this specimen was still alive, he was sure his companions would aid them- He often thought of their kindness too much, but such was their way.

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Rhaine took the healing kit and the water, "Thank you. As for his condition, it is likely that he was buried up to his neck as punishment...I do not think this was an accident."

 

She withdrew a few vials from the kit, some of them for pain, others for cleansing. Pouring a bit viscous liquid from one of the latter vials, she rubbed it between her fingers before telling the man, "This may hurt a bit."

 

Then, she began massaging the cleansing ointment onto his burnt face and neck. Afterwards, she took another vial - this time a painkiller - and worked it into the skin much like the ointment. Finally, after properly preparing the damaged skin, she began to treat the burns with magic. Hopefully, due to the painkiller, the process would not hurt as much. As she carefully healed the man, memories of her treatment of Ianthe's severe burns came to mind. She was doubtful that this man would heal as quickly as the nymph.

 

At last, she stopped to survey her handiwork. All but the worst of the burns had been transformed into new and fresh pink skin - perfectly healthy. The rest was still a little red, but with continuous treatment it would mend as well.

 

"You may scar a bit from this experience," Rhaine said at last, "but I think that is a fair tradeoff for your life. Here," she propped up his head gently and offered him Kalin's waterskin, "you need to drink."

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Throughout Rhaine's administrations, Myn couldn't help but think she was an angel. But, as he healed, the delirium of the last couple of days subsided and he felt more like his old self. After a moment or two, Myn looked at Rhaine and into her eyes. "Agreed, though I think that they could have been much much worse and still have been a fair trade off. Also, I must thank you, I don't think I would have lasted much longer if you hadn't come by when you did." Myn managed to croak out, before he took a long drink from Kalin's water skin. Once he was finished, Myn laid his head back and then glanced around at those who had come to his rescue. "Thank you, thank you all... I owe you my life. It's a debt I don't take lightly."

 

Only the gods could know just how much he meant it when he said the words.

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Rhaine smiled, "You don't owe us anything. Now tell me, what is your name? And who put you in such a state?"

 

She began repacking the remainder of the healing kit but kept her eyes on the man, interested in hearing his response.

 

Back at the camp, Maeve began putting on a pot of oatmeal over the small campfire. Sori sat nearby, rubbing her hands together as the night air had chilled them.

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Eventually Tannin creeped back to where he saw the head. "So uhhh..... He dead?"

 

 

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Kento nodded. "Then I have been here before.... Was many years ago." He said as he started walking again. Sensing Maydiira's hesitation he looked back at her. "Do not worry. Should the people prove to be too hostile I will step in. Will not loose the only way for me to know where i am to the unwashed masses." He said. From his tone it was obvious that he cared very little for the local population.

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Weyland heard Tannin's news and came running, hand on his blade just in case it was a bandit ambush, or undead. Amendale was right behind him. It turned out to be slightly different from what it sounded like, though. It was someone buried in the sand, not a severed head as Weyland had initially thought. Amendale assisted Rhaine in whatever way he could with the healing after Weyland helped Tak'We hoist the man out of the hole, at one point wondering if the man would be literally torn in two by their combined might. At first he just bathed him in a regular healing spell, but he would help wherever else he could as well, and would occasionally try and use a significantly toned-down frost spell to cool the man off. Weyland, watching walked back to the camp, since he could no longer be of any use for the moment.

 

 

Tannin approached, and Amendale responded "No, he lives yet." before seeing what else he could do and finding nothing. He walked with Rhaine and the newcomer back with the camp and was unsurprised to find Weyland munching on a piece of meat jerky.

 

 

"Welcome to the camp! Biggest concentration of epic legends-to-be this side of the Anauroch! Weyland Grey, at your service. The quiet mysterious one is Amendale." He flashed the newcomer a grin.

 

 

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Arland narrowed his eyes at the request and stormed out the front door without a word. It would just look like another customer leaving the shop, especially since Arland was the one who would actually be in a blacksmiths' shop. He eventually navigated his way to the market with a hefty sack of coins in his hand and bought a wide variety of food from breads, to fruits, to meat, to vegetables, and some baked goods, since he wasn't sure what it was Ginafae liked. He didn't like Ginafae by any means, but he figured if he brought something she liked she'd tell him about Weyland at least a fraction of a second sooner and then he could leave. If she didn't want anything, what he had was enough food to feed both of them for a few days, but he had a healthy appetite because of all the calories he burned off daily. He could eat it.

 

 

He returned to the blacksmith's shop with two baskets of various mixed foods, some wrapped up in pieces of cloth. The rich smell of fresh pies and breads wafted through the shop, but he also had some fresh meat in the baskets as well as everything else he'd bought.

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Kalin nodded, glad that the stranger seemed to be alright. "Rhaine, if you need any more help with him, just let me know," he said to the priestess, then went over to the camp fire and sat down in a comfortable spot. Oh, I nearly forgot! The elan pulled something out from his coat. It was a finely engraved flask, marked with the elvish rune for fortune. He opened it and took a decent drink from it. "Heheh, nearly put the whole quest to ruins!" the soulknife said with grin.

 

He looked up at his companions, then laughed sheepishly. "Sorry, I have this little quirk I got from my mercenary days." he explained, studying the elven flask. "A friend and comrade of mine in the Blade Walkers Guild had this superstition. Drast, was what he went by. Whenever we'd take up a new job or mission, he'd always take a drink from this flask of elven mead of his, and would have anyone working with him take swig, too."

 

Kalin took up an accent akin to Southern Cormyrian. " 'It's bad luck not to drink to a new venture. If ye don't take a drink, then yer not comin'! I won't be havin' yer bad fortune get us killed!'" The elan laughed, enjoying the memory of his friend. "And after five years of working with him, never once did I see that flask go empty, even after the guy shared it with over twenty of us. 'It's enchanted, lad,' he told me when I brought it up one time. 'It won't be empty 'til Tymora thinks I've been livin' long enough.' I laughed at first, thinking the old man was joking around."

 

Kalin's cheerful face grew melancholy, his eyes staring into the campfire. "Turns out he was right. One day, he pulled it out before we were going out to ambush a noble's army and passed it to me. I took a drink and handed it back to him, then he cried out when it was empty when he tried to drink from it. I could've sworn the thing was nearly full when I gave it back. We thought it'd be alright, telling him he could refill it after the upcoming battle." Kalin shook his head. "My friend died that day, as did everyone who was in that raiding party. Save for me..."

 

The soulknife looked up, dragging himself from his memories. "I kept the flask after that, and since then I've grown into the habit of drinking from it whenever I go on a new adventure. So," he spoke up, holding out the flask of elven mead to his new companions with a new smile. "Anyone want to take a drink? It'll be for good luck."

 

 

 

Tak'we studied the sun-burnt softskin for a moment, wondering if the man would be able to stand after being exposed to the heat for so long. When he didn't fall down outright, the thri'kreen turned to Rhaine. "Thisss one will be by the fire." He walked over and sat down by Weyland, taking out a hunk of meat from his supplies and munching on it. He listened to the softskin known as Kalin share his tale, then looked at the flask in curiosity.

 

"Sure," Tak'we said, taking the container when the soulknife offered it, "thisss one will drink." He pulled out a cup from his pack and poured some of the golden liquid into it. The thri'kreen passed it to Weyland, then tried the drink. "Tck!" "Mmm, it isss ssweet!" Pleased by this, he quickly drained the rest of the cup. *Wee!* "That wasss deliciousss!" he exclaimed. "Thank you, Kalin."

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Maydiira grinned, "I thank you, Kento. And I am glad I can be of assistance."

 

She spotted a man walking hurriedly from the market to the blacksmith's, his hands full of produce. There was an angry expression on his face as he entered the shop, rousing the drow's curiosity.

 

"Well, that's unusual," she remarked, "Do all you surfacers purchase food with such anger?"

 

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Ginafae had changed out of her armor while Arland was gone, and she now sported a tight, black leather jumpsuit. Her white hair was pulled back from her face, and her eyes flashed again as she spotted the goods in the man's arms. She moved forward slowly, picking over what he had purchased with a critical gaze.

 

Finally, she began setting the vegetables and meat out on the smith's dinner table, working without saying a word. Every once in a while, she would glance at Arland, but she said nothing. The drow simply withdrew a small knife from her belt and began chopping and peeling with expert speed. It was something she had forced herself to get used to over the past few decades...cooking. The blackguard trusted no one to cook for her, and so she did it herself.

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At the mention of the man not being dead Tannin nodded. "Weeell that's good. Now if you all will excuse me. Need to find another Dune to hide behind." He said before walking past another sand dune on the other side of the camp.

 

 

 

 

Kento watched the man, even at a distance he could feel the rage coming from him. "Only when you hate the one you are getting the food for." He said. "Does not agree with what the person ordering him around is doing." He said reading off what the man was feeling. "But then there are very few who do." He said dismissively.

 

 

 

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