Tales of Faerun

[Flipout6]

Annette blushed in the face of Rhaine's praise. "I-I don't think....Nothing they couldn't have done-"

 

"Oh, just take the compliment!" Sybille rolled her eyes and clapped Annette on the shoulder, lightly enough that she didn't knock the girl over. "I think this makes you an official hero, Annie!"

 

"As if she didn't already outstrip us by a mile." Marie smirked. "Your potions made us more money than all of our merc work combined."

 

"It's pretty good, but I've made more than this in a day before." Arland brushed his shoulder off nonchalantly.

 

"Illegally, of course." Marie countered.

 

"Of course!" He agreed.

 

"Murdering and stealing for the most part. Like you did from us." She glowered at him. "Never had to work for it."

 

"Not that you'd know anything about hard work, princess." Arland snarked obnoxiously. "I'll bet rich parents and some light merc work was so hard. How ever did you not pass out from exhaustion? Us peasant farmers don't know a thing about hard labor!"

""I've killed your type before"? Do you not care that some people you cut down actually have loved ones?"

 

"Am I still not forgiven for that? Last time you got a little heated up over it....well, you were heated up, alright. I lit you on fire."

 

"And I put a hole in your lung. Maybe that can be arranged again."

 

"You wouldn't. I really don't want to light you up again. I really, honestly don't."

 

"Enough." Sybille ordered. "Marie, don't argue with an idiot. He'll bring you down to his level and beat you with...a lot... of experience." She smirked.

 

"Yeah, take tha- wait a minute..."

 

"She called you an idiot, Arland." Amendale stated bluntly.

 

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On the way out of Eartheart, Sybille stooped down and squeezed Dagny into a tight hug, giving her a wistful, bittersweet goodbye and a warm smile before they went on their way. She hadn't been with the group long, but she'd grown quite attached to the young Defender.

 

Once on the road, it took little more than a few hours for Arland and Marie to gradually seem to melt the ice between them and ride side-by-side. Amendale flipped and looped lazily in the air as he used an Overland Flight spell, occasional flying circles around Zorica, Nawen or Weyland. Every now and again he'd disappear to the edge of the horizon and fly back again, much more somber before his mood picked up again. Then the process repeated itself.

 

With the mules having been hasted, they made extremely good time. Two days into their journey, once they hit the Council Hills, Amendale vanished into the woods. He found a spot overlooking miles of land as the sun began to go down and kept to himself there. The Greys set up shop in the cabins. Arland sat beside Marie at the campfire after they both disappeared behind one of the cabins for a few short minutes. Things between them were obviously tense....but Arland inconspicuously slipping his hand over Marie's and receiving a warm smile in return was something not lost on Sybille, who gave Marie a wink and Arland a warning crack of the knuckles. Zorica went off into the woods, seemingly to look for Amendale.

 

Annette, meanwhile, noticed the flash out of the corner of her eye and looked at it curiously. She was quick to notice the humanoid figure, an impressively-endowed....Dryad? But something was wrong. She stumbled and fell to the ground. Annette rushed over, brushing aside Ianthe as she went.

 

"Are you alright?" She asked, but the dryad was out cold. Her foliage-hair was yellowed and dying, and her breathing was labored. Annette reached into her pockets, looking for a healing potion. She found one and supported the dryad's head, tilting her head back so she could administer some of the powerful but foul-tasting mixture. "Somebody get Rhaine. Go on!" She barked. The potion, a leftover from the ones to cure disease she'd made to counteract the poisoned river's effects, was exactly what she needed. It began the process of helping flush toxins from the dryad's system. As she began to stir, Annette kept her still. "Help is here, have no fear. We've the means on hand to heal you, just give us a few seconds."

 

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He heard her coming from a good distance off, but Zorica seemed to appear out of the trees from nowhere. The steel dwarven breastplate she'd received in Earthheart glittered fiercely in the blazing orange light of the desert sunset, but even then he didn't spot it until she stepped out into the clearing where the soil of the forest turned to stone before plunging down a sheer cliff face to the grasslands below.

 

"What brings you out here?" Amendale asked loudly, an eyebrow raised.

 

She carefully picked her way around the scrub brush and into the open, crossing her arms atop her chest with a sigh, "Just thought you shouldn't be going anywhere alone." She paused before adding, "And...I kind of wanted to talk with you." She looked out over the sprawling plains that eventually transitioned into even drier and sparser land, "Pretty in an odd sort of way, isn't it?"

 

He nodded, and followed her gaze out towards the plains that ultimately stretched onto the horizon and into Mulhorand. The sun was setting over the mountains to the west, casting colossal shadows that stretched for miles, and lighting the sky up in a blaze of glory. "Especially during the evening, yes." He looked back at her. "What'd you want to talk about?"
The half-drow shrugged, "Just...seeing if you were doing all right. Are you?" She glanced at him quizzically, the sunlight reflecting gold in her eyes.

 

Amendale's expression seemed to drop and he looked back over the cliff face as he thought about it. "...Far better than I'd ever have expected. I'll recover. I guess at this point that's all that really matters."

 

She frowned, "Are you all right with the notion we might never find who did this?"

 

"No. But if I dwell on that idea I'll never heal." He looked her in the eyes. "I can't help anybody if I'm obsessed."

 

Zorica glanced away abruptly and visibly swallowed hard, her mouth set in a thin line, "But how else will justice be dealt, then? If people stand idly by and let villains get away with their wrongdoing, then we allow it to happen to future victims...future generations."

 

He nodded. "That's true. But on a similar note, if we let our metaphorical wounds fester instead of letting them heal, we're no good to anyone, be it now or in the future." He frowned, thinking over her words. "...But you have a point that I can't counter. Maybe I'll talk to Rhaine about hunting down whoever did that. She's probably eager to tear their throat out herself as-is, anyway."

 

Zorica chuckled, "She is. This I know. Whatever happened to her during that battle...that was...awe-inspiring to say the least. And she is certainly not satisfied knowing that the culprit is, for now, beyond our reach. Knowing her, she won't rest until she finds them...albeit, for a different reason."

 

"Sounds like we both get what we want, then." He stated, shrugging. "What about you? How've you been holding up? Are you okay?"

 

"I'm," she hesitated, not meeting his eyes, "I'm all right, I suppose. As good as I can be. Probably better than you. I guess." She looked down at her toes, "Thanks...for asking, I mean."

 

"Anytime." He replied with a warm smile. "Say, that reminds me..." He raised an eyebrow. "You asked what I'd be protecting when I said I wouldn't let a blade touch you. Called yourself a worthless half-breed, drow-blooded piece of trash." He shook his head, stood up from his seat and leaned against a tree. He wasn't wearing his usual black cloak, leaving his dark hair to sharply contrast the kaleidoscope of brilliant hues around him, as well as the white desert clothing he was clad in. "What makes you think I'd judge you for your race? I don't think any less of you for it. So why do you?"

 

She snorted, "Hmph. I'm the daughter of a prostitute and a Drow mercenary, an orphan for much of my life and a thief just as long. And the one person who gave me a purpose other than thieving is now dead. I'd say I don't have that much going for me other than a bullheaded determination and the desire to try and do something good for once."

 

"A winning combination." He grinned. "That's all you need to make something of yourself. Who your parents were doesn't matter so much as who you are."

 

She cracked a small smile, "Glad you think so."

 

He kept smiling. "I absolutely do."

 

"You're too nice."

 

"Well I suppose if you want rude you could always go and talk to Arland." He shrugged, bemused. "Personally, though, I enjoy your company too much to endorse such a course of action."

 

She raised an eyebrow, a bit taken aback by his compliment. Of course she'd known Amendale to be nice...he was always nice...but this was...really nice. Her eyes narrowed, "Do you, now? And what exactly do you like about my generally boring, dry, sarcastic, and pessimistic company?"

 

That caught him off-guard. "I-uh...wait, wh-" He shook his head, his grin reduced to a curl of the lip. "Dryness and sarcasm aren't things to dislike, I assure you. I protest the very notion of you considering yourself boring, and pessimistic? That has its own charm." He felt colour go to his cheeks and his (rather visible) elven ears and wished dearly that somebody had invented a spell to prevent blushing. His expression, however, turned serious. "Other than that...I'd have to say that at least some of it is empathy. I see you feeling forlorn, and I want to help. As well as your own compassion."

 

Her mouth split into a grin, "You keep calling me that...compassionate. Am I, really?"

 

He nodded, raising an eyebrow. "Well, twice now you've asked me if I'm holding up alright, you want to do good for the sake of it, and- sorry for bringing this up- it grieves you that you didn't defend your friend to the death. I'd call that compassion...and I was raised by bards. I read a lot of literary texts."

 

"Well," she looked away, "Don't want it to look like I'm trying too hard."

 

"Why not?" He asked. "It's nothing to be ashamed of."

 

Zorica huffed and hunched her shoulders, "Many people find their end in being too kind."

 

"Well, I can safely say that at ninety-one I haven't met my end just yet." He stated flippantly.

 

She snorted again, "Obviously. Unless you're a damn good-looking zombie."

 

"I think if I was I'd catch fire every time I used a spell. It'd be funny until I started dying. Again, as the case would be."
She smirked, "And then I'd have to run you through, you know."

 

His lips quirked with amuement. "And I'd be trying to chew on your pretty face. Can't have that."

 

A blush crept unbidden into her cheeks, tinting them a rosy lavender, "Are you calling me pretty, Amendale?"

 

"Well, considering you flattered me by declaring me good-looking by zombie standards I decided to return the favor. Just with a lot less sarcasm." A short, awkward silence passed. "...Yes, I'm calling you pretty."

 

She chuckled, "Well...I...haven't heard that one in a while is why I ask. Last time I heard that, I'd just pickpocketed the drunk who said it. Came away lucky that time."

 

Amendale snorted. "Pity they never put stories like that into any of the romance tales. They take themselves too seriously."

 

She raised an eyebrow, "Have a lot of experience with those romance tales, do you?"

 

He blanched, having had her stop him in his tracks for the second time today. "Well....okay, fine, I used to read them by the dozens. Happens when you're borne of Bards."

 

Zorica's blush deepened, "Well...I'll be honest...when I was younger...so did I. Used to steal into rich folks' libraries. Kind of funny how many of those are in places like that. But anyway..." she trailed, and then gave him a sly amber wink, "I won't tell if you won't."

 

He winked back. "Cross my heart, hope to die. Except for the "hope to die" part." He smiled at her. "Weyland knows, nobody else does. Actually, he used to embarass himself perousing through a bookstore to get one for me every now and again. So if he finds out, don't worry about it. Anyone else, though..."

 

"My lips are sealed," she grinned.

Edited October 16, 2014 by Flipout6

[AurianaValoria1]

Rhaine glanced up from her work - tending to her armor and reorganizing her pack in front of the fire - thinking she had heard her name. Concerned, she rose from her seat on a log to see Annette and Ianthe bent over a strange figure. The Doomguide dropped her tools and carefully made her way over, "Did someone call my-"

 

She stopped as she recognized the figure laying on the ground as one of her old companions - one of the first who had joined her in this quest.

 

The dryad, Hazel.

 

"By the gods, Hazel!" Rhaine exclaimed as she knelt beside the sickly dryad, "What...I thought we parted ways near the Kryptgarden! How...why did you come all the way out here? How did you know where to find us?"

[tokyobiohazard]

Hazel stirred in Annette's arms, before finally opening her eyes and letting an a sharp intake of air, gasping as if waking from a nightmare. She murmured something about sickness before she was coherent enough to speak in full sentences, the bitter healing potion working its way into her body.

"Ianthe, Rhaine," she managed to get out first, before coming to her senses. She jerked upright in Annette's arms, "It's a disease... I was one of the only ones to make it out alive."

Ianthe's tears spilled over her cheeks and she fell to her knees, not wanting to believe a word of what Hazel had said. "What about your tree? My stream? What of our friends?"

Hazel fumbled at a pouch on her side with clumsy fingers, before producing a small potted sapling, leaves yellowed and withered, with a glass dome encasing it, "This is all that's left of my tree... Your stream runs thick with diseased waters... And most of the Fae are dead, save for the nymphs. The disease does not ravage them as it does the rest of us."

She took a step away from Annette, nodding her thanks to the young woman, before falling to the ground again with the groan of creaking wood and rustling branches.

The fur on Aera's neck stood on end as she listened to the tale, and she watched as Arva walked over to his wife, taking her by the shoulders and cradling her head to his sternum as she sobbed. He rocked her back and forth and watched the dryad warily, unsure of her relation to Ianthe, but assuming she was from Ianthe's home judging on their dialogue.

[AurianaValoria1]

Argyros squinted at Conall, "I thought dryads had to stay close to their trees? How is it she can be this far from the Sword Coast?"

 

The paladin crossed his arms, "Looks like she has an acorn from her oak...which effectively lets her go anywhere, if I remember right."

 

The dragon-in-disguise's only response was an amused, "Hmph!"

 

Rhaine took Hazel gently by the shoulder and then motioned to Lucas, "Squire! Make yourself useful and fetch Nawen...I need her expertise."

[josh900]

Lucas tore his eyes away from the Dryad a Rhaine gave him an order, he shook himself back into reality before nodding and running off to find Nawen.

 

Finding her sitting on her own Lucas began to sputter out information. "There's a umm.. A tree woman, here, that's umm.. That's sick or something, R.. Rhaine needs your help."

[Deleted6317247User]

Nawen was watching the fire with Rhegar resting his head on her knee when she noticed Lucas approaching her. After he told her what was happening she got up. "Tree woman? What's a dryad doing here?" She wondered as she made her way to Rhaine.

 

"Hazel!" She said happily, glad to see the dryad again but her mood quickly changed into worry when she noticed that the dryad was sick as well as the sickly looking sapping she had with her. "Is everything alright?" The drow asked but everyone's grim expressions and weeping Ianthe meant that things were far from alright. "What's happening?" She asked concerned.

[Flipout6]

"Some sort of disease or sickness." Annette reported to Nawen. "Whatever it is it's something that you'd probably be able to identify. I can brew potions; I can't do much with regards to nature or the wilderness. I don't think Amendale would be more suited to the job than you, either. She's got a curative potion in her, so she should be alright for a while."

 

"What's going on?" Weyland asked. "Who's she? Is she alright?"

 

"I think they used to know her." Arland pointed out.

 

"Can't be that bad a sort, then." Marie murmured to herself.

 

"Well I've never heard of an evil dryad." Sybille commented. "But then, I've never met a dryad."

 

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The Kryptgarden was dead.

 

Perhaps not all of it, but a sizable percentage of it. Miles by miles of leafless trees and yellow grass, withered plants and toxic water. Blackened soil, dead wildlife, even the birds, diseased and feral and curled up in death. Some had, in a rabid frenzy, torn others apart before themselves falling to pestilence unnatural.

 

Silithus looked at the carnage with a twisted, crooked smile plastered on his face. A showy, billowing black cloak fluttered in the stale breeze. Ravenna had given him a new outfit, one much more practical than his old one. A set of robes coloured as black as midnight, embroidered with scarlet trimming and rope-like patterns, he wore a dark-grey tunic with a violet gem embedded in the chest, with emeralds the colour of moss flowing down the lapels. His staff was the same one he'd used since the beginning of his life, with a cat 'o' nine-tails on one end, rusty and slimy, and barbed points topping the end of the staff.

 

He wandered aimlessly around his wondrous painted canvas of misery, spreading his arms with joy. Between his cracked laughing he muttered fervent prayers and praises to the Ladies of Pain and Disease, gripping his jagged staff so tightly that his hands bled, letting his viscous, diseased blood flow down the shaft and fertilize the dead soil at his feet. He ran his tongue along one of the tails on the end of the weapon, and black fingernails tore at his cheeks.

 

"-Oh witness this shrine of agony I did build for you-"

 

"You're the one who did this." A woman's voice snarled. Something behind him growled.

"Isn't it glorious?" He shrieked, his mind gripped in the throes of perverted dementia. "A wonderful little art piece I have made! Beautiful..."

 

Then a lightning bolt slammed into his chest, and thousands of volts seared their way through his body with a boom a thunder. Silithus stumbled backwards with a howl...of joy. Still twitching, he sighed with pleasure even as he gnashed his teeth in pain.

 

And then, Elaril Del'Ferrill found out just how demented a psychopath she had to face.

Edited October 18, 2014 by Flipout6

[AurianaValoria1]

Rhaine tasked Nawen and Annette with assisting Hazel in any way possible, having had little to no experience with extensively healing a Fey creature like a dryad. Moreover, the Doomguide was not well-versed in the diseases and afflictions of the forest, and so she thought it best for the drow ranger and alchemist to handle the situation. Troubled by what she heard, she then made her way to her own cabin, where she finished work on her armor, studied her map, and continued contemplating recent events, as she often did when by herself. Though she was determined not to let it affect her interactions with others, she was still steamed over the fact that the culprit behind the undead attack on Amendale's village was, for now, beyond her reach. Her church also did not look kindly on the machinations of Talona's priests, and she vowed that if she ever caught whoever had committed both crimes - and she was sure that the two events were connected somehow - their ilk would think twice before doing so again.

 

Conall busied himself with keeping watch alongside Argyros as the evening turned into night. They talked occasionally, their voices barely whispers, before the dragon finally decided he wished to stretch his wings. He shifted back to his natural form and took to the skies, guarding over the camp while making slow and lazy circles in the cool air above. Zorica returned not long after, mostly keeping to herself and sitting before the fire with an absent expression on her face.

[Deleted6317247User]

Nawen listened to Annette intently. If only she was able to identify whatever sickness it was. "I think a druid would be more suited for this than I am." She said sadly as she knelt by Hazel and carefully checked her to see if anything was out of the ordinary, more than it already was. After she was done, the drow sighed heavily. Caring after dryads was something she had never done before nor thought she'd ever have to do. She looked back at Annette. "I'm afraid, I don't know what disease is this," she spoke sadly, "so your potions and perhaps healing spells are the only options we have for the moment."

 

She then gently helped Hazel back up, "I think we should start with a cure disease potion and perhaps cure poison as well?" After what happened at Eartheart it seemed for the better not to brush the idea of poisoning aside even if Kryptgarden was very far away. Nawen then turned to Hazel. "You need to rest, and hopefully Annette's potions will help to regain your strength." She said as she began leading the dryad to one of the cabins where Ianthe and Arva stayed, thinking Hazel would feel better with a close friend nearby.

 

Shalena watched everything from the distance curiously. By the looks of it some of them new the dryad, but the piratess' attention was mostly focused on Hazel. She had never seen a dryad before, and thus she seemed very exotic and just as the many tales told, beautiful.

[AurianaValoria1]

Rhaine was in the middle of working out the best path from here to Mulhorandi lands - and preferably to smoother roads - when she thought she caught some movement out of the corner of her eye. Glancing up, she glimpsed a spider-like thing crawling into the cabin from under the door, making metallic clicking noises against the stone as it went. Almost immediately, the hairs stood up on the back of her neck as she recognized what it was.

 

Blackrazor.

 

Long, blade-like limbs worked their way across the floor, slowly approaching her - not to keep his presence a secret, but to ensure that he did not cause her alarm. "Haaaaand of theeee juuuudge." The words came out like metal scraping against metal. It then bowed low, a sign of peaceful intent.

 

Rhaine narrowed her eyes at the animated weapon, wondering why it was purposefully seeking her out. It made her not at all comfortable, despite its rather...humble...greeting. She raised her brow at it and hesitated for several breaths - the distinct urge to call Tannin tickling the back of her mind - before answering, "Yes? Is there some reason why you have decided to interrupt my thoughts?"

 

"To speeeaaak… To speeeaak and to waaarrrn.” The creature scuttled closer. “But not thisss waaay. Heee could heeeaar. And put a ssstop to iit.” A bladed leg raised up and extended out, pointing at Rhaine. “A prrick.. And we shaaall speak, without interruptioonsss.”

 

The Doomguide rose from her seat and took a step backwards, and she mentally prepared a destructive spell, "And why should I trust anything you have to say? I should call your master at once."

“Unlike hiiim, Iii have no reasssooon to lie or haarrrm youuu,” its metallic mouth-like feature scratched together.

 

Her lip curled in disgust, "Forgive me if I find that hard to believe."

 

A sort of growl-like sound came from the blade creature. A slew of strange syllables and what were possibly words came from its mouth, none of which sounded even remotely similar to any that were known on Toril as it quickly climbed up onto the desk.

“Verrryyy well theeeen.” It growled as it curled its legs underneath itself and lay on the table. “Then puuut your hand on meee… Quicklyyy, I despiiise ssspeaking in thisss fooorm.” It said with a notable irritation in what could be considered its voice.

 

With no small amount of apprehension, she carefully laid her hand atop the spidery thing, ready to jerk it away should it try anything...

 

Almost in an instant, both Blackrazor and the walls around her began to fade, an empty blackness surrounding her instead. The candlelight inside was the only source of light anywhere.

“My, you are a cautious once aren’t you?” came a loud, deep, and rumbling voice from out in the darkness. “Although I suppose it’s understandable given the circumstances. But I digress. Greetings to you, Hand of the Judge, or should I drop the formalities and simply call you Rhaine?”

 

Her mind whirred like clockwork in an attempt to make sense out of all of this - thus, what he called her was the least of her worries. "Rhaine will suffice," she replied shortly.

 

“Very well then,” said the voice. “I’ll get straight to the point then as I imagine you have very little interest in speaking with me for too long. It concerns… What do you call him again? Tannin, yes. His true names serves him so much better, but alas such things have no meaning here, an oddity I doubt I’ll ever get used to I must admit, even if it does offer me some leverage in our relationship.” The voice rambled on, “But I suppose that’s besides the point, the true purpose of this little meeting is to inform you that our mutual.. eh, 'friend'...is plotting something most troublesome, something that would tip the scales of the natural order out of balance.”

 

Her expression was blank and unreadable, "Go on."

 

“To put it simply, he intends to kill a god.. Several in fact, though one in particular is his main target, the rest are simply 'in his way'. I shouldn’t have to tell you the sort of calamity this could cause, do I?”

 

Her breath came in a sharp inhale, and she bit her lip as her eyes roved around the darkness. What if the thing was playing her like a fiddle, and just lying for its own evil ends? It was not that far of a stretch to assume such.

 

But what if it was telling the truth?

 

After a few moments of silence, she replied, "And so what is this to you? Why do you care?"

 

“Self preservation. While I certainly would enjoy feasting upon the power of a god, their wrath is not something I am ready to face. I have been dormant for several years now and am certainly not at the height of my power, least of all ready to face a god in their own dominion as he is planning to do.”

"I must admit,” the voice paused, “it is a bit of a surprise to me, I thought he had lost that fire years ago. Now if only he would direct it at something that we could both benefit from.”

 

Her heart thumped in her ears, and at last she hissed, "Enough...enough!" She jerked her hand away from the evil blade and screamed as loud as her voice would allow, "TANNIN VIRSON! GET THIS THING OUT OF MY CABIN AT ONCE!"

 

A sigh came from the darkness. “I suppose this will have to wait for another time then, perhaps when he is closer to his goal we’ll talk again,” he said as the walls began to come back into view. Not giving Rhaine a chance at anything, Blackrazor jumped from the table and quickly ran out of the cabin.

 

From outside, Conall heard Rhaine's shout, and he wondered what it was the half-blood had done now...