01 April 2013 - 03:11 PM
Targaryen,
Thank-you for answering so quickly. Truth be told, Adrian's quest involving Tanya fired not too long after I wrote my note above, so all is well. As to the music, well, I am not sure were it is from . . . probably some other mod I installed . . . else I am hearing things 
.
Again may I say how much I am enjoying all your hard work,
Cheers 
CelticRose
07 January 2013 - 02:44 AM
Greetings:
A thousand apologies for being so long at this chapter. Real life has thrown me many curves this last year, and not to make excuses, but I have been working over 50 hours a week so . . . and stubborn me, I refuse to just throw something together. The voices in my head would never allow that! No, never, nay! (sorry for the twisted humor, I am on cold medication 
In writing for these lovely characters I have made a few discoveries, one of which I feel the need to explain. I fear I have had difficulty in writing for Domi's character Rizdaer. I do not believe mine to be the vision she saw, and for that I offer my apologies. I offer no excuses. The drow that has come across to me quite strongly is decidedly different, but it is who I see and what I hear, sooo, enough said.
Hope you enjoy this next chapter, cheers!
oOo
Just as Ruach D’irthaear closed the inn door behind him, a shuttered window above was opened to the night air. The focus of the golden elf’s plans looked out into the darkness, welcoming the frigid breeze in hopes that it would help clear her head. For two quarters of an hour Anariel had been battling with her indecision about the missives from her parents.
Finally breaking the seals she had read them carefully and with the aid of another fine bottle of wine, she had written her reply. Brief but respectful, her letter was now safely sealed within the leather case for its return to Luskan. All she needed to do now was to deliver it into Ruach’s hands.
Speaking to the room she shook her head slightly, “But that task is for later.” With a sigh, she closed the window, refastening the latch, and pulling the heavy curtains back into place to keep out the drafts.
As she turned to face the room her eyes fell on her gift from Lord Ulbrec and his lady wife. Upon discovering of Anariel’s failed attempts to find a replacement for her fighting leathers, Lady Elytharra had given her a true gift.
Laying out upon the bed was a light armored hauberk. Anariel ran her hand over the small, finely woven silvery grey links, pleased with the cool, almost silky feel to the metal. Of elven design but crafted by dwarves, the hauberk fell to below her knees were it was split at the front and back to allow for greater freedom of movement. Not quite as light or fine as mithril, it was still incredibly light and of uncommon craftsmanship. In addition to the shirt of mail, there was a dark blue, quilted gambeson to be worn atop a shirt, but under the hauberk.
Very pleased with the gift, Anariel smiled as she remembered the group’s reaction earlier.
Upon their returned from Lord Ulbrec’s quarters, exclaims of excitement from Peony had announced her discovery. As promised each member found a token of appreciation in the inn’s common room. A thank-you as it were, for agreeing to take on the mission of traveling to retake Shaengarne Bridge. With a quick pounce, and a rustling, and tearing of paper, followed by another shriek of joy, the petite wizard uncovered her gift. Peony held up a tooled leather wand sheath for all to see.
Ancient runes in shades of purple decorated the outside of the pale blue sheath, while inside could be found two wands, one of sleep, and the other of fire missals. Each one capable of a two charges per day before having to be recharged. The gnome would have to spend her daily casting wisely.
The others seemed quite pleased with their gifts as well, albeit not as loudly demonstrated as Peony. Sir Nord beamed with pride at the set of bracers that would enable him to cast protection of stone skin. A warm bronze color, they fit him as if specially made for him.
Next to the knight, Jaemal ran his hands over the soft silver white fur trim on his cloak of non-detection. Far from being just a tool of protection, this cloak should enable the sorcerer to stealthily gain close access to the enemy. With his added skills as a fighter this easily made him an even stronger double threat.
The group’s cleric, Valeero received the smallest package. Within a small silkened pouch of darkest red she found a ring. The wide band was made of braided strands of a silver colored metal inset with small stones the deep color of blood. A ring of healing, it was fashioned with surprising strength given its delicate appearance.
Even Rizdaer had been remembered this time by Lord Ulbrec with a keen edged long knife which had been enchanted never to dull. As the drow almost timidly unwrapped his gift, a look of surprise warred on his face with one of confusion. This quickly changed to a gleam of a warrior’s appreciation as he studied the blade.
Everything had been going smoothly until the package for Diriel was handed to him. A confrontation seemed inevitable given the assumption from everyone in the group that the druid would refuse any gift from the mixed race couple. His handsome face begin to harden into lines of intolerance as he drew himself up as if for battle.
Then suddenly Peony had intervened, standing inbetween their leader and the druid. “Oh come on Di! Open your present, I wanna see what you got! Come on, pretty please? I could help open it . . .”
Diriel had then looked at the rest of the party over the rock gnome’s head, as she continued her pleading. “Please Di? Oh come on, you know you’re dying to know what it is. I know I am.”
“Where is the harm my friend?” asked Jaemal. His smile warm, he continued to reason with the druid,“It could be a vital tool for our mission.”
All eyes were trained on him. With a sigh that would have done credit to the greatest of martyrs, Diriel gave in and removed the wrapping. His face softened with a look of wonder if not gratitude, for in his hands lay a Traveler’s Journal. Made of toughened rich brown leather, it was decorated in Elven runes in varying shades of blues and greens. Greatly sought after by bards and wizards alike, these journals were quite compact for traveling, but were enchanted to expand when opened.
A loud knock on the door brought Anariel back to the present. Expecting a visit from Valeero, Anariel opened the door permitting her to enter. A basket hung from the crook of the cleric’s arm, as her hands held a laden tray.
“I thought to make us a pot of tea while I redress your wounds,” announced Valeero, easing the tea tray down onto a convenient table. She then industriously fed more wood to the hungry fire and placed the kettle onto the hob while Anariel moved two chairs closer to the small stone hearth.
Even thought healing potions had been used initially on the more critical of the Anariel’s wounds, those on her shoulder and upper chest still required a bit of healing balm and a clean dressing to ensure no infection set in. Several minutes passed as the cleric cleaned and redressed the wounds declaring that they were healing quite well. Valeero set the basket containing tools of her craft as a healer aside, and turned to the kettle.
As she busied herself with measuring the tea leaves, and setting them to steep, she gently suggested that Anariel help herself to the food on the tea tray.
“I noticed you didn’t have much of an appetite earlier, and it is important that you eat something to help with the healing of you injuries. I raided the inn’s lauder, hope there is something there to tempt you.”
“Thank you for your kindness Valeero,” came the elf’s reply. “I think I will at that.”
Taking a thick slice of crusty bread, she slathered it with some wild bramble berry jam, and sighed deeply as she took a bite.
Valeero smiled, then after a few minutes, she placed a steaming cup of tea in Anariel’s hands,“Here, sip on this a bit, it will help relax you.”
The elven maid inhaled the fragrant scent of the herbal tea. Another large sigh escaped her after the first sip.
“Where ever did you find honey?” she asked.
Valeero smiled, lifting the cup to her lips, “When it comes to a good cup of tea, I have my ways.”
Both sat quietly for a while in companionable silence enjoying the tea and the light repast until it was broken by Anariel,“I feel the need to explain my actions this evening, if not apologize for them . . .”
Gently the cleric broke in, her tone reassuring, “You owe me not the slightest explanation Anar, but I would welcome the chance to understand, and to give you a gentle ear should you wish to talk.”
For a time Valeero thought that the elf had decided to keep her own counsel, so long was her pause. But then Anariel spoke softly, “I have behaved most selfishly, and even foolishly in my past. But that is too long a tale for present . . .” The cleric watched as the elf tried to gather her thoughts, “As for my conduct tonight where Ruach is concerned . . . have you ever had dealings with someone who seemed to bring out the very worst in you, no matter how hard you tried to remain civil?”
Valeero gave a short bitter laugh, “Only too well do I know this misfortune. One of those from my own order in fact, a priest of notable position, and fame. I held him in esteem at first, as did most, then I was made his assistant. Twas the worst of times for me, for he was wont to humiliate me in private as well belittle me in public. Worse yet, was how I responded to his treatment . . . I was punished for my insolence and disrespect daily, and yet I could not seem to keep my tongue behind my teeth.”
“Sounds all too familiar,” responded Anariel. “Insolence and disrespect were words most often used when my name was being spoken of, whether by my parents, or my instructors. Well, that is not wholly true where my teachers were concerned. My weapons masters spoke kindly of me, but then I always behaved for them.” This last was said with a smile as if the memories were fond ones.
The cleric watched Anariel from above her cup, “Ah well, I suppose just as there are those we feel an instant kinship to, there must be those to whom there is an intense animosity.”
“It was not always that way with Ruach and I,” the elf said quietly, as if speaking to herself. As she spoke, she stared into her cup as if it contained pictures of her past, “He was a hero long before I was even born, and I was in awe of him when first we met. He had traveled to places, and done things I had only read about. When he came to visit my Father, I would follow him about babbling questions to him, one after another. I was just a child then, I should have been beneath his notice, and yet he was always kind to me. After a time, he would bring me back something from his travels, some little trinket, or bauble, and he told the best stories. His kindness to me made me feel special.”
Chewing on her bottom lip she confessed to the cleric, “In the tender years of adulthood I believed myself to be in love with him. He was so beautiful to look upon, so fair in face and form. He seemed surprised at first when I spoke of my love for him. Then he told me that he too had loved me for years, but had never dreamed that I would return his affections. For a time I was the happiest I had ever been.”
After a slight pause, the elf continued, her fingers lightly traced the rim of her tea cup, “As the years had passed, Ruach became more important to my Father, procuring one honor after another in his campaigns. He was like another son to my Father, if not for my brother Lavir, I think Father would have welcomed him as such. I even nurtured a hope that my father would welcome a match between Ruach and myself. Daily I waited for my Father to tell me of the news of our union. But it never came. At first I blamed my Father, and in my rebellion, I foolishly gave myself to Ruach, trusting him . . . but slowly I realized that despite our intimate relationship, Ruach never asked for my hand from his lord, my father.” She shook her head slowly while shrugging her shoulders, “He never intended to.”
After a moment of silence there came a bitter laugh, “It was not until years later that I learned what a master Ruach was at deception, and by then it was much too late.”
Another long pause followed and then, “My brother tried to warn me away from Ruach . . . but I heeded him not.
My failure to read Ruach’s true character would have amounted to nothing if it had involved just myself. But my naiveté, and stubbornness were a fatal mix for my beloved Lavir.”
A loud snap came from the fire as a log fell further into the burning coals. The noise was enough to pull Anariel from her musings. She set her tea cup down carefully and looked over at the cleric with a half smile, “Whatever did you put in that tea? It is not my usual habit to ramble on so . . .” Looking a bit self conscience, she quietly added, “I thank you for listening though. I hope it was not too boring a tale.”
“Twas just a bit of honey,” Valeero replied smiling. She then set herself to take away the uncertainty she saw on Anariel’s face.
Reaching across, she placed her hand upon the elf’s arm, “I won’t pretend to understand all you have gone through, but I know it is not very easy to give one’s trust once it has been shattered by another. I want to thank-you for trusting me, and please know that everything you have shared with me I shall keep in the strictest confidence. Anytime you want to share, or need to share what is in your heart, I hope you will call upon me. And just for the record, not one person alive, no matter their race or upbringing has lived through their lives without some form of selfishness and a bit of folly. It is part of that which makes us who we are today.”
Rising from her chair she continued, “One day we must swap tales, I think mine might surprise you, I was not always a priestess.” This last she added with a sly half smile curving her lips and a quick arching of one of her auburn brows.
Crossing to the door she opened it before turning to Anariel. Embracing her she said, “May Lathander bless and guard your slumber Anar. I will see you in the morning, good night.”
The elven maid gave a small smile, “If your god gives me sleep without dreams then I shall be truly blessed.” She then added rather shyly, “My thanks to you, long has it been since I have been able to unburden my heart so. Sweet slumber to you as well.”
“I pray that you might sleep the better for it Anar. Till the morrow then,” replied the priestess before she turned and walked down the hall.
oOo
From down at the opposite end of the hall, a pair of pale grey eyes followed Valeero’s progress from Anariel’s chamber. Ruach had overheard the small exchange between the two females and wondered at their conversation. Yes, the sooner he removed Anariel from this group of adventurers the better. It would not do for her to benefit from any friendships, especially with as strong a female as the priestess appeared to be. No, she must be kept alone and removed from support of any kind.
With that thought in mind, Ruach moved to his room which was a few doors down and across from the elven maid’s. After tonight’s battle of words over dinner he knew to expect a fight from Anariel. A twisted part of him looked forward to the struggle ahead.
After rummaging around in his pack for a few minutes he found what he was looking for, a length of soft rope for binding her limbs and a cloth to gag her mouth. As he pulled the necessary equipment from his pack he heard a clinking sound. Still holding the rope, he reached back into his pack to pull out a vial with blue liquid.
He smiled as he held it up to the lamp light watching it wink and sparkle like a jewel, “A sleeping potion, perfect,” said Ruach. The smile on his handsome face turned sly, “Tonight lirimaer, you will have your wish for dreamless slumber, and then we will continue our little game.”
As he moved to place the vial safely in his pocket, he noticed a flickering of light. Thinking it no more than a trick of the lamp light on the sleeping potion, he bent his arm to tuck it safely inside his doublet. There it was again, a blue flickering of light, only now it seemed brighter.
His smile fled completely as he realized that his hand, and then his arm were now outlined in a blue flame-like light that flickered and snapped like fire. Taking an involuntary step back he saw that the blue fire followed him and was spreading to outlined the whole of his body.
“What’s this?” he cried in a combination of anger and surprise.
From the darkest corner of the room came a slow drawl, “Come now, a sil’in darthiir of your education and experience should know faerie fire when he sees it.”
Inwardly Ruach cursed when Rizdaer seemed to melted out of the shadows. In a tone of one use to being obeyed, Ruach commanded, “What are you doing here drow? I demand you explain yourself.”
Far from being intimidated, the dark elf advanced into the room. He bowed his head slightly, never taking his eyes from the golden elf. “How remiss of me. Please allow me to introduce myself, I am Rizdaer Hune, formerly of the Northdark city of Ched Nassad. I am here as one of Mistress Anariel’s company to solve an annoying problem.”
“Then it is you who are responsible for this . . . this light?”
“Faerie fire,” supplied the drow.
Ruach shook his head, “Faerie fire is impossible outside of the Underdark.”
“Not really,” came another voice. This one rich and cultured,“ I have never seen faerie fire before now but I have heard tell that very strong drow individuals can maintain much of their magic outside of the Underdark.” Jaemal had entered the room unbeknownst to Ruach and now stood to his left, a good handspan taller than the gold elf. In spite of himself, the elven commander took a step back.
Close behind the Mulhorand sorcerer came Peony, still in her evening finery. She looked in wonder at Ruach’s body brilliantly outlined in dancing blue light, “It is such a lovely shade of blue, just like some pansies my Grandma had, well that was before the goat ate them.”
She stepped closer to the simmering light, peering up at the elf’s outlined hands, “Does it burn like real fire?”
Ruach took another step, backing away from the inquisitive gnome, dropping the rope as he did.
“Oh, you dropped something . . .”
“Never mind that girl, ‘tis nothing,”claimed Ruach. As he snatch up the rope he pushed her rather roughly to the side.
Jaemal quickly pulled Peony out of harms way. Placing a protective arm around her he faced Ruach demanding,
“Here now! Just what are you about?”
Ignoring the sorcerer and the gnome, Ruach sneered at Rizdaer, “Drow, you have yet to answer my question. Why is such a foul, loathsome creature as yourself in my room? What vile schemes are you hatching?”
“Schemes?” Rizdaer began. “You are one to speak of schemes. Nay darthiir, I do not plot and plan, at least not at present. Unlike you, that which I do is born of the desire to survive. It is not kept secret, but is in the open for all to see, you on the other hand,” the dark elf gave a soft humorless laugh, “Let us just say that one beetle recognizes another, and this sly beetle knows you to be up to something. Just why have you really come seeking my mistress? I do not believe that you come merely to deliver messages from her parents, nor for her lady mother’s request to save her daughter, at least not that alone. Any errand boy in Lord Ni’Tessine’s armed guard could do that.”
The dark elf crossed his arms, then tapped a long slender finger on his chin as if deep in thought. “Nay, something else drives you. It should not be that difficult to ascertain, now what would a drow be driven by . . . ”
Refusing to rise to the bait, Ruach rolled his eyes thinking, ‘Damn drow sure loves to hear himself talk.’ Taking advantage of the moment, the golden elf eased his hand closer to the long knife sheathed at his hip as his enemy continued talking.
“ . . . when you think about it, there is little difference between most of the surface dwellers and my former brethren. The desire and play for dominance, wealth, supremacy, it is all the same. There are those who have it and will fight to keep it, and those who want it bad enough to kill. Then of course there are those pawns caught in the middle, too poor or stupid to be a threat.”
Hand securely on the hilt of his knife, Ruach started to ease it from the sheath . . .
Without skipping a beat Rizdaer chided tauntingly, “Drawing your weapon eldalie e’trit, and here we are just talking.”
Jaemal raised a slim eyebrow voicing his disappointment, “I am very much surprised at your rudeness sir to draw a weapon during this discussion, after all you are a diplomat and you should be able to control . . .”
“I am Lord Ne’Tessine’s emissary, he is the diplomat,” growled Ruach.
Peony chimed in from the safety of Jaemal’s side, “ Well is it any wonder that you aren’t the diplomat with how rude you are? First snapping at people, then waving around a knife, and now interrupting Jae.”
Glaring at the pair, Ruach bared his teeth in a threatening sneer, “One can never be too rude to a drow.”
“Be that as it may Ruach if you draw your weapon I will be forced to draw mine, and then were would we be? Well, you would be bleeding at the very least.” Rizdaer paused, “Now to continue, I wish to know the real reason you are here. Is it love for my mistress? Nay, you may lust after her and enjoy tormenting her, but you love her not,” said Rizdaer as he looked directly into the golden elf’s eyes. “What is it that drives you? Love? Wealth? Power?”
“Honor,” answered Ruach quickly. “I mean to protect my brother’s betrothed. Not that a foul creature as yourself could understand such a concept.”
“ Ulnaril vyk’zlade,” countered the drow in a what sounded almost like a hiss.
“I know not what you called him Master Rizdaer, but find I am in full agreement with you,” commented Jaemal.
In the tone of a conspirator the drow spoke to the Aasimar in something like a stage whisper, “I called him a, what is it in the common, oh, a lying snake.”
A half smile appeared on the sorcerer’s face and a soft giggle could be heard from the gnome still standing beside him.
“Honor you say? No, that’s not it,” stated Rizdaer with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Tis not honor. No, you have ambition. It wafts from off of you as stink from a dung hill.”
Ruach finally found his voice, “You and your kin are a blight against all of the People. You are the most foul, evil, and cursed creatures there are. Treacherous monsters, devious, lying . . .”
“Yes, yes I know,” said Rizdaer with another dismissive wave of his hand at the golden elf. “But know you also, that the Drow but embody those vices that the surfacers themselves possess, but will not acknowledge, even the People.”
Stunned at that thought, Ruach stared at the dark elf for a moment before speaking, “Oh how I shall enjoy seeing you bleeding at the end of my blade. all I needs do is call for my elite guard. You are not the only one who can use magic tricks.”
From around his neck he drew a heavily linked chain of bronze with a medallion of his family crest. It was set with a pale sky blue stone, of which the elf covered with his hand. He murmured in elfish a soft but firm command. Looking rather pleased with himself, he smiled smugly.
“Oh, you mean your men in the rooms next to the kitchen?” asked Peony. “I’m afraid they will not be able to answer you. They looked awfully tired and so I gave them some mulled wine to go with their dinner. My Aunt Camilla’s recipe. They should wake up tomorrow.” Smiling sweetly she added, “Some time.”
Uttering what sounded like a choked growl, Ruach drew his blade and would have lunged at the gnome if it were not for Jaemal.
As the sorcerer used his strength and stature to wrest the blade from Ruach’s hand, Rizdaer could be heard saying, “I see you cannot mind your manners oh golden one, so do hand Master Jaemal your blade . . . hilt first please, I would hate to see his fine new attire ruined with your blood. Oh and do hand over the sleeping potion, you will not be needing it.”
Within moments the elven emissary found himself lying on his bed securely restrained with the ropes he had intended for Anariel. Rizdaer held out his hand for the strip of cloth that Peony held to use as a gag, “I will finish here, I’ve something yet to impart to our friend.”
Jaemal looked at the drow shrewdly, who in turn gave him a reassuring bow of his head, “I swore to my Jabbress, you can trust that if not my word.”
Seemingly satisfied with the drow’s reassurance the sorcerer offered the petite gnome his arm,“Come Peony, let us sit by the fire awhile and have one last glass of wine before retiring, shall we?”
“Why thank-you Jae. Did I ever tell you the story about the time I conjured my first real illusion? It was a beautiful summer's day when . . ."
Rizdaer closed the door before approaching the captive elf. All traces of taunting or sarcasm had vanished from his features and posture as he looked down at Ruach.
“I would have you know kivvil just how fortunate you are. If not for wishes of my Jabbress, you would be dead now. I have know your kind before, full of yourself, stubborn, and even worse, not nearly as intelligent as you think you are. So, I will make this simple for you. You will not engage Anariel in conversation unless spoken to, nor will you follow my mistress or this company.” Rizdaer paused briefly, and with a look that promised pain he continued, “For if you do, I shall kill you no matter what my Jabbress wishes.”
Before the golden elf had a chance to speak, the drow spoke a word of power, unleashing a bit of magic he had learned long ago.
The air around Ruach’s bed shimmered, and then there appeared dozens upon dozens of spiders. All different sizes, the biggest, easily the size of a man’s fist. They were in varying shades of black, gray, and yellow, while a few had a glowing spot of blue on the backs of their heads. They all scurried toward the surface elves, their multi-jointed legs making a crackling sound as they moved.
A genuine smile crossed Rizdaer’s face as he perceived the golden elf’s growing fear of the spiders, “My friends here will keep you company while you contemplate your future. Now be a good darthiir and maybe they won’t be hungry.”
“I promise you that you will be sorry you ever got in my way you black whoreson! I will kill you for this,” sneered Ruach.
“Oh I look forward to your, attempt darthiir.” As Ruach growled his anger and frustration, the drow added, “Did I mention that the spiders are attracted to strong emotions like anger and fear? Ahhh, I thought not. Good night oh sil’in plak’la darthirii. Pleasant dreams.
With those words, Rizdaer soundlessly walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.
After retrieving his cloak from his room, the drow walked to the door of Anariel’s chamber. Not one to take magic for granted, especially drow magic, he settled himself on the floor of the doorway, his cloak about him.
Once more he spoke a word of power and there in his hand stood a small blue-black spider. With gentleness belying his race, he blew softly on the spider sending it sailing across to the door frame of his mistress’ chamber, then spoke the words, “Kyorl lu’ kyorl.”
Content that the arachnid would alarm him if anyone came to the door during the night, Rizdaer gave himself over to sleep.
*********************
Drow:
Eldalie e’trit = elven filth
Jabbress = Mistress
Ulnaril vyk’zlade = lying snake
sil’in darthiir = noble surface elf
sil’in plak’la darthiriisil’in = noble golden elf
darthiir = surface elf
Kyorl lu’ kyorl = watch and guard
01 July 2012 - 01:25 PM
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