Tales of Faerun

[mythicdawnmaster]

"What a quaint little village this is, although a little too quiet if you ask me. Not that it bothers me." Xallistine commented as the group rode through the gates. Of the many horses in the Slaver camp, Xallistine had chosen a large black stallion, resembling his last mount, Fatty, only far more muscular. He had burnt off the Zhent symbols from the animals breast-band and saddle, as Rhaine did, knowing that such a marking would attract attention as to where they had acquired their steeds.

 

Dismounting his stallion, Xallistine handed the reins to a now quivering stable hand, who was very unnerved at the appearance of the Ulitharid, Xallistine assured the man he wished him, nor anyone else no harm, and followed the party to the Teshford arms. The building was quite attractive, although an air of emptiness seemed to fill it, there must be a huge lack of travellers coming to the falls, Xallistine thought as he gazed at the inn, breaking from his thoughts as the group stepped inside.

 

Unlike his companions, Xallistine was not covered in sweat and grime, his skin naturally parried any ill effects of weather conditions, like sand, it instead just slid off his mucus-lined flesh before it had a chance to stick. Illithid did not sweat either, at least, not in the respect the surface dwellers did. Still, his robes were in need of a clean, the bottom being caked in mud and sand, torn and ripped by the dangerous weathering of the desert. He'd simply have to make repairs using leather strips, for the tears in the arms, as he knew of no tailors accustomed to creating robes for his kind, not on the surface anyway.

 

After paying for a small room, he asked for a bath to run, knowing he'd never fit in a human sized tub, he'd at least use the water to wash of his robes, and give his skin a little nourishment. As the bath arrived he unfastened layer after layer of his surprisingly cumbersome robe, true that the robes of the Illithid looked thin because of their way of sticking to the bony bodies of their wearers, but the leather was quite thick to break into, because of it's many layers. Having completely removed his robes, he first stood in the bathtub to wash himself over with a pitcher of water, his three toed and taloned feet helping him balance. Once he was content he no longer smelt of the desert winds, Xallsitine washed each layer of his robe separately taking him a good while, eventually the water turned a mucky clay-colour, but his robes were back to their shiny quality.

 

Donning but one layer, neglecting his many overcoats and interior wrapings, as well as the large collar he had always wore, Xallistine made his way downstairs, black robe following gracefully behind him, he sat at a dimly lighted table in the corner, spotting his companions as he looked around, and noticing Rhaine in much softer wear.

 

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Ravenna smirked wickedly at the Dracolich as he voiced his question, the undead voice booming and hoarse. She paced for a moment, slowly stepping, her heavy dress following her around, and the bat-like Imp on her shoulders hissed contently to himself as he clutched onto Ravenna's collar.

 

"I am Ravenna, Valthanarax, Queen Consort of the Nine Hells. A rather recent position. The two dead wizards were my correspondence here before my... untimely departure of Faerun. They intended to revere me rather than Szass Tam, they could see his weakness. Your fate is something that amuses me, Lich, and I intend to see my mortal deeds through." her tone was decidedly bored, but her eyes still raged brightly.

 

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Siran smiled to himself as he stepped out of the Red Rock inn, His fingertips covered in dry paint, his sleeves rolled up past his elbows, and his cape and waistcoat left behind in his room. Under his arm he carried a large wooden signpost, recently painted and the final touches been made, he was eager to show it to Olavia at the Teshford arms.

 

Gently pushing open the tavern door with his foot, leaning back under the weight of the signpost, Siran entered the cozy tavern with a smile, making his way over to the bar. He placed the signpost down, and grinned at Olavia, who returned the grin as she inspected the new tavern signpost, the old one having given way to rot and weathering. This freshly painted sign had taken Siran quite a while to make, but when Olavia commissioned it he wanted to do a good job. It bore a depiction of a large wine bottle floating on the river, the Dagger Falls flowing into the bottle, a large, green mint leaf was printed on the bottle, the Teshford arms written across in gold script.

 

"Do you like it Olavia?" Siran asked.

 

"That i do my love! It's beautiful! I'll get the lads to put it up later on, thank you boy." She went to reach for her coinpurse, but Siran lifted a hand.

 

"Don't worry about paying me anything, I'm just glad to see you like it."

 

"How about some Mint wine then? on the house." The woman said with a smile.

 

"No i'll pay, you need the business Olavia, Dagger Falls has such a lack of Travellers..." He trailed off when he saw the large and exotic group of warriors who had now occupied the inn, among them an Illithid of the likes he had never seen, and a beautiful woman with Scarlet hair, and huge, black wings. He could feel himself stare at her, wondering if she was an angel, or an Aasimar like him, but turned his gaze, knowing it rude to gawk at a lady, or anyone for that matter.

[GrueMaster]

Tak'we buried the bodies, or in some cases, pieces, as best as he could in silence, the look in Sori's eyes as she gazed upon him in horror breaking his heart. As he poured earth and sand onto the corpses at Rhaine's behest, the thri'kreen kept cursing himself, his shame at what he'd done agonizing him.

 

I'm nothing more than an animal, just like dark softskins always said, he thought in self-loathing. He looked at Sori sadly, knowing she'd never be friends with him again. He picked up his gythka silently, a sense of despair radiating from his slumped figure, and walked with the group as they departed from the massacre, traveling alongside his clutchmates rather than among them; Tak'we felt too monstrous to disgrace them with his presence

 

 

"Damn it!" Kalin cursed under his breath as he patched up his wounded arm. He'd gotten too careless in that fight. The elan had forgotten to focus himself for the fight, and he was forced to rely on his pyrokinetic powers because of it. "That's going to be fun to explain," he muttered as he finished tying off the bandage, then looked up and finally saw the carnage his companions had caused, particularly Tak'we. By the gods...

 

The blood and random limb scattered here and there left a sour taste in his mouth, reminding him far too much of his war days. He'd burned nearly a hundred soldiers once, and since then the soulknife swore to never to use his powers in such a destructive manner. The state many of the dead Zhents and slavers were in were no less sickening He stood stunned for a moment, then starting moving to help with the graves.

 

Kalin looked up at the stranger as he worked, realizing the madness obvious in the man's words but saying nothing; speaking seemed too disrespectful at the moment. He didn't feel comfortable with the madman traveling with them, but he hadn't contributed much during the fight, either, so he didn't object. When the party left at Rhaine's behest, the elan muttered a quick epitaph for the dead men's souls, then followed after.

 

*******************************************

 

Kalin sighed in relief as they entered Dagger Falls. "Thank Lanthander. I was beginning to think I'd never get to rest!" he exclaimed when the party went into an inn called 'Teshford Arms'. "I'd give an arm for a bath myself," the soulknife said, agreeing whole-heartedly with Rhaine and Myn. He rented a room and laid his coat on the bed, then ordered water up for a bath.

 

Thanking (and tipping generously) the maid after she brought up fresh water, Kalin heated it up to the steaming point after she left by setting his hand aflame, then stripped and sighed blissfully as he slipped into the hot water. That feels so good... he thought, washing off several tendays worth of dirt, sweat, and grime from his skin. After he was done, he got out and cleaned his clothes, drying them rapidly with his psionic abilities, then dressed.

 

Feeling refreshed, Kalin went back downstairs to the main room and sat down, ordering a glass of wine for himself. Seeing Rhaine walk into the room, fresh from a bath herself, he rose from his chair and gave a polite wave, inviting her to have a seat. "Ahh, it feels nice to be back in civilization, doesn't it, Rhaine?"

 

 

Tak'we traveled the entire time in silence, refusing to speak due to his guilty conscious. He avoided Sori in particular, unable to meet her eyes. The thri'kreen barely ate whenever they stopped to eat, the food having a bland taste in his mouth. He covered himself with his cloak when they entered the softskin stone village, wanting to avoid trouble for his companions' sakes.

 

At the inn, the thri'kreen rented a room with some the gold Rhaine had given him and asked that some water be brought up. He went upstairs and, after getting the water, cleaned off the blood and grime sticking to his chitin. He stared at his hands, lost in his thoughts. I didn't need to kill those softskins like that. They were horrible people, but nobody deserved to die like that... He thought of the softskin hatchling's horrified eyes. Poor Sori.

 

Deciding that he should apologize, he made sure the rest of his exoskeleton was clean and went downstairs in his old softskin guise. Seeing her and her parents sitting in one corner, he shuffled his way over to them. When he reached their table, he bowed as low as his figure would allow in supplication. "Thi- Tak'we iss ssorry for what he did. I-I should never have done those thingsss," he pleaded haltingly, not used to referring to himself in the first-person. "Please forgive Tak'we. I-I beg you."

[Flipout6]

Weyland took the time to bathe himself before he went back downstairs before Tak'We and finished off a large cup of water he ordered after he drank his tankard of mead. Tak'We's attempted apology later on when he came down stirred something up deep inside of him that he couldn't place his finger on. Touched, Weyland stood up and approached Tak'We, and clapped his hand on the Thri'Kreen's shoulder.

 

"You see that, Tak'We? How you feel sorrow, regret? That shows exactly who you are, not the fact that you mutilated a few slavers. They deserved it." Realizing that he was getting off-track, Weyland re-focused himself. "There's more to you than that even when you're at your worst, you just need to realize that. We all make our mistakes." In his mind, Weyland was muttering to himself about how killing slavers like that was hardly a mistake, he'd done similar things to people like that. But he didn't bring it up. "Just need to realize that for yourself. Don't take my word for it." He shrugged and walked back to his seat after a moment's pause, then returned to his usual gruff-around-the-edges persona. That inspirational charismatic leadership stuff was harder than it looked.

 

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Amendale had struck out on his own, for the moment, deep within the city, not gathering supplies but rather looking for someone. After all, it was so incredibly rare for him to see one of his own clan again, and one of them lived here within the city.

 

Amendale found himself getting excited as he asked around and found out more about what Vhame's schedule was. Similar to Amendale, Vhame had taken up mercenary work to make a living in the city, of which there was plenty considering there was a murderer on the loose. It took an hour of asking around, but eventually Amendale managed to discover where his friend lived, a middle-class house near the market district. It was a medium-sized stone brick abode with a solid oak door. Amendale hammered on it. No answer. He knocked on it again, this time exclaiming that it was him, and still received no answer. No fires were lit within the house, so Amendale figured he had gone out somewhere. He shrugged and walked back down the path leading to the door, noting the bustle as a group of city guards hustled their way through the crowd.

 

Amendale fell into step beside them. "Is there something you need help with?"

 

"Just had ten people running for the guard-captain crying about some big fight in the slums. Spells and swords, and a murder. I'd recommend you stay out of our way, don't want you getting hurt."

 

Amendale persisted. "I can help. I'm a spellcaster myself." The guard growled something about bull-headed good Samaritans and continued on his way.

 

They came up upon an alleyway between two run-down shacks, both of which were covered in scorch marks, arcane ice, and blood. Other guardsmen were already arriving on the scene, weapons drawn. Amendale's attention, however, was focused on the dead Moon Elf.

 

"Vhame!" He cried in anguish. He knelt down on one knee beside his friend's body, checking for a pulse and finding none. Thinking fast, he placed his hand on his fellow elf's chest and muttered the incantation to a resurrection spell.....nothing. Poor Vhame had been dead for too long, even Rhaine wouldn't be able to bring him back by the time she got here.

 

Amendale bowed his head, letting the hood of his cloak hide his stricken expression from the guards. He stood up and walked away without a word, combing the area with the slim chance of finding the man responsible, but he knew from the get-go it was a snowflake's chance in the Nine Hells. Amendale found his way back to the Teshford Arms and sat down beside Weyland at the table, ordering himself some...alcohol? Weyland was thunderstruck.

 

"Beer? Amendale, by Tempus, what's up with you?" One look at his friend's expression told him what he needed to know, and he stayed quiet.

Edited March 18, 2013 by Flipout6

[josh900]

Finishing his drink Tannin retreated upstairs, giving Rhaine a slight nod as he walked past. He locked himself in his own room, keeping away from the group. Their silence towards him making him uneasy. He went straight into the tub and cleaned himself off. The feeling of the cold water instantly relaxed him. Though he was no stranger to the life on the road by any means and despite growing up on the streets, he was still a creature of luxury, Years of living in upscale Waterdeep had spoiled him.

 

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Kento's scowl grew even more than what most would think possible. for a brief moment the thought of killing her then and there for wasting his time crossed his mind. When he was younger he probably would have, but down here he needed a guide. He let out a long, slow sigh. "Okay...... Then... lets just hurry." He said through his teeth. Hoping that whatever the town they ended up at, that Tannin wouldn't be too far.

[AurianaValoria1]

Rhaine accepted Kalin's invitation, ordering a glass of mint wine from a waitress as she passed by the table. She smiled as she sat down, "Yes it does, friend. I've spent my fair share of time in the wilderness, and I do have a healthy love for the solitude that it provides...but I much prefer the luxuries of civilization."

As the waitress brought her wine, the Doomguide caught the glance of a very young man - or a very tomboyish woman - at the bar. She nodded politely to them in greeting, simply assuming that he or she worked for the inn, and then returned her attention to her companions. It seemed Tak'we was taking Sori's silence towards him particularly hard - it wasn't difficult to identify the thri-kreen in his "old softskin" garb as he stood stooped beside Bilron's table. Weyland shared a few words with him, but they were too quiet for Rhaine to catch.

Rhaine tipped the waitress and took a sip of the wine. She raised her brows in surprise, "Hmm...I've never tasted wine like this. Not bad. I am more accustomed to Tashlan vintages, though."

Sighing, she added, "I do hope we can find a lead in this town. The last mention of the Cult pointed to the Dalelands...but that could be anywhere from here to Sembia."

Sori glanced up at Tak'we and mumbled something unintelligible. Maeve told her to speak up, and the girl said a little louder, "It's all right, Tak'we. I forgive you."

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Valthanarax's ruby gaze never faltered, even as he sank to his belly and began kneading the dirt floor of the cave with his massive bony paws. He snorted, "So you are the witch these fools spoke of...they say you promised to help me against Tchazzar, but your correspondence never came. Tell me...how do I know you are not as incompetent as they?"

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Maydiira and Kento finally emerged out of the woods to look upon the town of Dagger Falls. Evening was falling fast, the sounds of crickets filling the air.

"Well," the drow sighed, "here we are. Let's hope your foe is here, eh? Put an end to this search for good. And perhaps the locals will be more welcoming to one of my blood...though I doubt it."

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As dusk fell upon the town, Ginafae slipped through the gates. Her memorization of the guards' schedule proved invaluable - she encountered not a one on the way inside. A few patrols came dangerously close as she went deeper into Dagger Falls, but with the aid of another invisibility potion, the blackguard was able to sneak past them.

Now to find the worthless jaluk that led her here...

Edited March 18, 2013 by AurianaValoria1

[GrueMaster]

Kalin grinned broadly. "My sentiments exactly, Rhaine," he spoke as he excepted a glass of wine, tipping the waitress with a fair amount of silver. The elan sipped at the mint wine as he leaned back in his chair. "Tashlan wine is a decent vintage. I prefer elven vintages myself, although," he added with a rueful smile, "I was foolish enough one time to try the drow wine Spiderblood. Wonderful bouquet, don't get me wrong, but getting past the spider venom isn't quite worth the effort and price, as I learned after spending three days retching."

 

The soulknife chuckled lightly, his spirit feeling rather high at the moment. You nearly get killed in the middle of the desert, now you're talking about fine wines with a woman you barely know. That voice in his head spoke up accusingly. Hey, I haven't had a decent glass of wine for tendays! he shot back mentally, silencing the voice. Besides, I know Rhaine is a Chosen of Kelemvor, she can handle herself with sword and spell, and she has a taste for good wine, so you can be quiet about who I know.

 

He looked over at Tak'we and was saddened momentarily by how the warrior had been acting lately. He seeks forgiveness, though, so there's a good heart in him. He could relate to the thri'kreen's suffering; he'd been through similar situations. Although in my case, there was no one left alive to forgive, he added sourly.

 

Not wanting to spoil his own mood, Kalin looked at Rhaine curiously and spoke up, wanting to know more about the priestess now. "So, Rhaine, while we're waiting, do you mind sharing a little bit about yourself? Sorry if I seem forward, I just want to know a little more about my companions."

 

 

"Thank you, Sori," Tak'we whispered, bowing his head lightly. "It meanss a lot to Tak'we. Here," he said almost suddenly, his spirit not as mournful now, reaching inside his cloak and pulling out a bundle. "I-I would like softsskin hatchling to have this." He set the bundle on the table and opened it, revealing the beads he had once played on his gythka. "Tak'we'ss mother played it to help ease her hatchlings while they rested. I hope it brings you peace as it did for m-me."

 

With that, the thri'kreen wordlessly turned around and shuffled to a table near his clutchmates and ordered some meat and vegetables, then sat quietly while he waited for his meal and his companions.

[Flipout6]

Weyland downed the last of his cup of water and ordered another one, before chewing on a sizeable piece of meat. Once he swallowed, he looked at Amendale curiously.

 

"So what is your problem, anyway? You're even quieter than usual." He asked.

Amendale looked at him sadly. "Can we talk about it some other time?"

"Nope. We could all be gone from this town by tomorrow, and we can't fix your problem then."

 

"Can you really fix a murdered friend? I couldn't bring him back, Rhaine wouldn't be able to."

 

"Necromancers have been doing that for ages." Weyland replied with a raised eyebrow and a smirk, trying to brighten the mood. "Well, who was it?"

 

"Vhame, one of the other casters from my clan, decided long before I did that he wanted to leave and explore. He won't be going back." Amendale's face darkened.

 

"So who killed him?" An edge had crept its way into Weyland's voice.

 

"That's just it, nobody knows who it was. They think its that guard-killer out here somewhere-Ardin, I think it was- but they don't have any proof. There were signs of spellcasting everywhere, and this man killed him with a simple blade. The Guard says he's not to be underestimated."

 

"A smart man doesn't underestimate anyone. I guess if he was ready to cast, your friend was a smart man." Amendale began to speak and Weyland cut him off. "So, we're going to hunt your friend's murderer down, and we're going to kill him. Closest we can get to fixing the problem."

 

"And you suppose this will make me feel better?" Amendale queried sullenly.

"It'll be something you don't need to wonder about for your life. We leave him alive and you'll wonder who he was, if he's killed again. Won't get the chance to if his head's rolling around on the floor."

 

Amendale thought about this. "We ought to ask Rhaine how long we're in town, first, lest we get left behind."

"Fine." Weyland stood up, walked over to Rhaine, and asked as Amendale suggested. "Look, there's a big problem here that Amendale needs solved and it may take some time. How long are we in town?"

[josh900]

Tannin completely submerged his head under the bath water. The meet with Jax still bothered him. He had never met a bhaalspawn before other than his father and Aunt. He knew that they weren't all like that but still, he had to wonder if it was possible that they could all end up as crazy as Jax. Whether one day the taint could cause even him to descend into such madness. He came up for air, as he did a comforting thought came to mind. There was a point where he could have become that, could have embraced the urge to kill but he didn't. Without Tannin even knowing his Father had at least taught him to suppress such urges. He scoffed to himself. "Only good he did before leaving." He muttered angrily.

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Looking down at the town Kento's mood lightened a little. "Well good to see she wasn't completely useless. Would not have been able to find my way around down there." He thought to himself. "You should not worry about what they think. If they try to bar us from entering... I will deal with them." He said.

[AurianaValoria1]

Rhaine raised an eyebrow at Kalin, "Well...I don't think there's that much to tell. You already know of my old exploits, it seems. You've traveled with me enough to have learned most everything else."

 

At that moment, Weyland and Amendale came up to their table. At the former's inquiry, she replied, "Two or three days. Bilron and his family are fairly exhausted from the journey thus far...it is only fair to let them rest as long as they wish. Why?" her brow furrowed, "What's going on?"

 

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Maydiira looked askance at Kento, now knowing that anytime his aid was offered, it was mostly for his own benefit. She continued walking after a few moments, heading towards the gates.

 

"I'm sure you will."

 

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It had not taken long for Ginafae to find Arland's hideout. After tipping a few beggars, she was able to track him down to a rundown shack. It was not any permanent loss of coin, however; she had stabbed them with her poisoned knife as soon as their backs were turned.

 

Now, to find a way in without alerting the jaluk.

 

She tentatively tested the lock on the front door by gently twisting the rusted knob.

 

Locked.

 

Xsa'ol!

 

Creeping around to the back, she found another door. Testing it as well, she found better luck.

 

Oh, you poor, foolish jaluk, she thought, her lips stretching wide in a wicked grin. Removing some oil from her pack, she poured it over the rusted hinges so they would not creak. Then, she carefully twisted the knob and pushed inwards. The door resisted briefly, but then slowly opened...the drow let it close softly behind her before continuing on. Her eyes flared scarlet as they adjusted to Darkvision, perceiving every nook and cranny in the place as if they were illuminated by moonlight. No furniture, nothing...

 

Though, there was a closet door on the far left, slightly ajar. From it, Gina's keen ears picked up soft snoring. Grinning again, she withdrew a bag of caltrops and quietly scattered them across the floor. Then, casting her darkness spell so that even when he woke he could not see her, she called to him in a silken voice.

 

"Oh Arland...wake up, dear..."

Edited March 19, 2013 by AurianaValoria1

[Flipout6]

Weyland took a moment to run the figures through his head before answering. Two or Three days wouldn't normally be a lot to find someone in a big city, but this man didn't hide himself very well, it would seem.

 

"That murderer we've all heard about in the area, the guard-killer, killed one of Amendale's clan-mates today. I'm going to take him out myself, and Amendale's coming along. He doesn't see the use in doing so, but better to see the body than it is to spend your life wondering, and a little revenge will go a long way if he's to get over this." Weyland explained to Rhaine. "I wouldn't even try looking for him if he wasn't so blatantly conspicuous."

 

"The scene is the backdrop to a battle. Vhame almost burned down two houses trying to take this murderer out before being killed in broad daylight in open battle." Amendale added helpfully.

 

"There you go. He probably won't be too hard to find, and we have at least two days to find him." Weyland shrugged. "We won't split up, so there won't be any piking us off individually if he decides he doesn't like us. Apparently his name's Ardin, which should help provided the locals didn't mix it up, and if there aren't any wanted posters up there will be soon. He's living on a short amount of time. Guess we'll head off now, if that's alright by you." Weyland asked without actually asking.

 

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Arland stirred faintly, not completely asleep yet as thought he heard something outside. He put his head down to fall back asleep and was halfway there when the door flung open. Arland his blades in his hand almost instantly and quickly wormed his way out of the sleeping bag, muttering every curse word that came to his mind (being a Grey, that was enough to put any three mercenaries to shame.) but not fast enough to be instantaneous.

 

He scowled when he heard who it was. Ginafae. Well, it was some kind of vermin making the noise after all.

 

"Well, I guess it has to attack me in my sleep after it runs like a coward, is that it?" He taunted, with a slight smirk playing on his lips. He was actually fearful, but no way was he showing it. He'd have to turn it into power and speed, that was what adrenaline rushes were for. And he knew he'd be using it, there was no way this could possibly end without him trying to fight, successful or not. "Guess it has to corner me too." He called her 'it' on purpose. From what he'd seen she had a temper, and anger made people make mistakes. He planned to exploit that.

Edited March 19, 2013 by Flipout6