Past Lives

Based on Planescape rather than BG II.

She shrugged off the badly aimed blow to her shoulder with a snarl, her eyes glowing a feral red in the low light of the battlefield. Covered in thick blackish blood from head to toe, she looked like the fearsome visage of death itself as she deftly ducked and dodged her opponent, using her wings to gain lift and stay one step ahead of the lesser tan'a'ri. The beast was angry at being unable to catch the tiny annoying creature with the daggers that bit like fire when the enchanted blades sunk home into its leathery hide. It lumbered forward with an unholy screech, intent on ripping her to pieces and ending the painful dance once and for all. She stood her ground and waited, talons only inches from her face, then jumped straight up into a summersault landing behind the startled creature. The last thing the beast knew as it reached its talons back to grab at her was the feeling of intense agony as the blades sunk home into its neck, severing the spine. Blood splattered outward in a fine spray, dousing the tiefling once again in gory ichor. She dropped to the ground and landed a solid kick to the demon's lower back sending it sprawing to the ground face first where it lay there writhing as the "life" left it. She spit, both to clear the taste of blood and brimstone from her mouth and to show her derision for an inferior opponent, then took to the air once again to search for a new target.

She'd not gone far above the ground when a sudden impact slammed into her from behind. Viselike arms wrapped around her, threatening to crush her into a shapeless mass. She could smell the foul stench of another lesser tan'ar'i, winged like herself. Talons sunk into her abdomen, ripping and tearing through her leather armor like it was paper and into the soft white skin underneath. A sickening crack sounded as her left wing was broken by the sheer force of the fiends grasp. She screamed, the berserk warrier snarls gone, now replaced by the voice of a very young, and very terrifed girl on the brink of death. Ribs popped and cracked as her chest collapsed next. The demon laughed sadisticly and began flapping higher. It stopped and held the broken tiefling out at arms length shaking it like a rag doll, mocking her in the infernal tongue. Then it let go. The pale skinned girl was beyond caring as she plummeted to the ground and landed with a thud in a pile of bodies. Later on she would thank whatever Powers that might have been watching that she had, else she would have landed on the hard rocky ground and died instantly. But at the moment, she knew only agony and anger that she still lived. If any opponent saw her still moving she'd likely be slaughtered painfully..... after being tortured for information she didn't have for the amusement of the tan'ar'i lords. Then most likely resurrected for the torture to begin again. Torture comes in many forms she knew all too well.

She lay still, willing herself to die before she was found. Death didn't come. It seemed she'd not even be granted that one request. Her breath rattled wetly in her chest and she felt blood bubbling out of her nose and mouth with each painfully drawn bit of air. After a while, she thankfully passed out. What could have been hours later.... or perhaps minutes only, she didn't know, she awoke to the sounds of distant screams and cries. The battle had moved on away from her, leaving her alone. With agonizing slowness, she pulled herself up to her feet and began to stumble away toward the only place she knew to go, the baatezu encampment. She'd rather be killed swiftly for failure, than ripped apart while still alive by battlefield scavengers or an enemy. The tiefling clamped her teeth together painfully to keep from screaming, her broken wing dragging uselessly behind her the entire way. Much of the trip was a blur as her eyes watered from the pain and her head swam from dizziness due to loss of blood. Once she'd been of value to the baatezu for her fighting prowess, now she was nothing more than fodder, as she fell to the ground in the middle of the camp. Again, sometimes the Fates work in ways that you can't understand nor comprehend on any rational level. It would appear that the Acheron traders were there that day, dropping off a new load of slaves. When she stumbled in, the leader of the band recognized her as a previously valuable sale and in his avarice decided to offer a pittance to the baatezu lord to take the useless girl off their hands. He could take her back to Acheron, bring her back to health and sell her to the Tan'ar'i for more coin. And so the deal was struck; she ended back up on the plane where her Hell had all begun...

For many days, the inadequate healers worked on her injuries. Their efforts did little more than get her wing back in place and on the way to a slow painful healing process. She lay there most of the time on her stomach, too tired and sore to move. The days blended into each other until she lost track of time altogether. Some days she cried silently, mourning for the loss of her youth and innocence (if ever a tiefer from the Hive can be said to have had innocence to begin with), others she stared blankly at the walls refusing to eat or drink. On one of the blackest days of her life, when she had sunk into a deep apathy that prevented her from even moving from her filthy bedding in the dank cell, a sound came to her. It sounded to her like the tumblers on the cell door being worked. She moaned, and tried to pull herself up into a defensive position. If she was to endure more of the attentions of the guards, she was going to go down fighting this time even if it killed her.

Her eyes widened in shock at the tiny figure that literally skipped into the cell and peered at her with a huge grin on his sweet face. "Well, this jail is not nearly as nice as the last one," he piped. "You know....you don't look so good. Hey! You're a tiefer aren't ya? Never saw one up close before... Well, once... but he wasn't a very nice fellow, looked like a goat too. Kept yelling at me to give him his dagger back. How am I supposed to keep up with stuff that other people lose? Can't help it if it fell in my pack, now can I? At least I found it for him, eh? Talk about gratitude.." The girl's head swam as she tried to keep up with his rapid fire chatter. She finally managed to croak out a few words when the kenderkin took a breath, "Get me outta here aye? Please..." He smiled even more widely and nodded his head, braided top knot bobbing around his shoulders, "Of course!" Leaning down to look at her more closely, he held out his tiny hand to her and said, "My name's Jori, what's yours?" Before she could answer, he frowned, "Wow, you really don't look so good. Guess the service in here really is bad. Off we go then. I'm sure the next one will be more hospitable!" He helped her to stand, and she leaned on the tiny figure as they silently slipped out of the cell and away from the lax guards. Mydian didn't look back....