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The Prologue, starring Danie, Esthaenie, and Adelram:
The mist wound thick around the meadow as Danielle Amora picked her way across, cloak dragging through the dew-hung grass. Her boots were soaked through, toes clenched against the chill that drifted across the way.
Ahead of her, Adelram stalked through the fog, feathered arms clasped in reverence.
“This is as far as I shall take you. Be wary and wise, Amora.” The kenku’s beak clicked as he spoke, silhouetted by the light of the moon. His simple brown robe draped in billows over his shoulders. Danielle liked the man: he was quiet, and honest, much unlike most kenku. Adelram was an excellent monk and guide.
“Thank you, Adelram,” Danie said, wrapping her cloak more tightly around her middle. She winced at the tremor in her voice. Adelram nodded solemnly and began to leave when he paused.
“Ms. Amora,” he said, raven-like head bowed, “if I may… why are you here? There is naught here but a meadow, last I heard.”
Danie’s ears turned pink. “Do you know the Oracle of Verineth?”
The kenku shrank back. Danie regretted her words, wincing under her mask of calm. She was a fool to tell him.
“You spoke to the Oracle himself?” Adelram said, half-terrified and half-reverent. Danie’s eyebrows quirked at the hint of awe in his tone. She straightened.
“Yes, I did. And he said to come to this meadow, outside Graywing City.” Danie crossed her arms, but doubt ate at her all the same.
Adelram, however, looked satisfied. “The Oracle is wise, and trustworthy, despite being a filth--”
Adelram’s eyes widened. He put a hand to his beak. “Amora, I did not mean to speak in that way. I hope you understand.”
Danielle nodded. “I get it. And I know what he is. I’m not afraid of them.” Her voice went just a bit too high on the last word.
Adelram nodded, casting his eyes down. “Until we meet again.”
Danielle gave him a weak smile. “So long.”
He vanished into the mist without a sound. Danie shivered.
She walked forward, eyes scanning for trouble, ears pricked for the sound of pursuers. She was a rogue. Rogues prepared for the worst.
There were no footprints on the ground. The wet earth sucked at her feet as she walked, caking her boots and dragging her backward. She grumbled under her breath.
She dragged her boot along the ground until she came to a toadstool. It was green, like her cloak and hair, and almost blended into the grass but for the pulsing glow that came from within the bulbous top. It was a flight fungus.
She stopped in the meadow and screamed in irritation.
“A flight fungus?” she called, “I walk for miles to get to the city, pay 30 diamonds to hire a guide, and I get a flight fungus?”
She swooped down and plucked it, eyes blazing in blind irritation. Flight fungi were common around Verineth, and almost completely useless. One bite meant fifteen seconds of flight, and only fifteen. They couldn’t even be useful enough to give more than one bite, either. They crumbled to powder after the first nibble. Danie growled and crumpled the stalk in her hand. There went the last of her money until she bartered or stole for a meal. There went three days of walking. By the gods, she had had enough of Oracles.
A thunderclap drowned out her screaming. She tensed, waiting for rain, but it never fell. An electrical storm. Perfect. She looked up to the sky, daring the lightning to hit her. It would be preferable to her current existence.
A flash of golden lightning illuminated the woman in the clouds. Danie stopped shouting, suddenly sobered by the sight.
The woman hovered, violet dress billowing against the clouds, curls of red hair scattering across her back. Two ivory wings curved against her back as she levitated in the clouds.
An angel? Danie watched in awe as the woman’s eyes fluttered open for a moment, deep gray-green eyes glazed with lightning’s glow.
The woman began to fall.
Danie’s breath caught. The woman pitched backward and fell, unconscious, skirts twirling in dizzying whorls. The flight fungus grew heavy in her hand.
Danie took a bite from the fungus and felt it crumble in her hand. She stepped off the ground and began flailing, trying to make it to the falling woman. Thirteen seconds left.
She picked up some speed, wind battering her face, and swept in under the falling woman. Danie wrapped her arms around the tall woman and tried to slow the descent, breath wheezing through her lungs, grasping for oxygen. Seven seconds left.
Danie slowed in the air and readjusted her grip on the winged elf. The woman curled against her. A strained sigh escaped Danie’s lips. She was safe.
The woman’s eyes fluttered open, bleary in the mist. She blinked twice and let out a ragged cough.
Danie’s vision faded for a moment. In her mind, she saw the dark, gaunt face of the Oracle of Verineth, laughing, the third eye stitched to his forehead glowing with scarlet light. She shuddered.
She snapped out of her reverie when the gorgeous woman screamed and punched her in the face.
submitted by Brookeira
(October 24, 2017 - 8:10 am)
(October 24, 2017 - 8:10 am)
And it begins! Awesome writing!
(October 24, 2017 - 8:44 pm)
(October 24, 2017 - 8:44 pm)
Tiptop!
(October 25, 2017 - 8:04 am)
Yay, it's begun! This is really good, Brookeira. *Claps*
(October 25, 2017 - 10:01 am)
I don't know any DnD, but this is good.
(October 25, 2017 - 7:31 pm)
Thanks everyone! New chapter coming either tomorrow or on the 28th!
(October 26, 2017 - 8:12 am)
Yay!
(October 26, 2017 - 11:28 am)
'the gorgeous woman screamed and punched her in the face.'
XD Me... so true.
(October 26, 2017 - 7:06 pm)
This looks great, Brooke! Can't wait to see the next part!
(October 26, 2017 - 8:05 pm)
Chapter One: Gilokerym
Two Months After the Prologue, One Month before Our Story Begins
Esthaenie ran after Danielle with shaking hands. She forced them to be still and straightened up, pulling her cloak around her back.
The tavern rose into the sky of Graywing City, its wooden sign slick with old rainwater. Lights burned dim and warm from the windows while spirited music oozed faintly onto the streets and drifted between the cobblestones.
“Are your wings hidden, featherhead?” the rogue asked, turning on one heel to appraise her. Esthaenie huffed.
“Of course they are. I’m not in the mood to be ambushed.” Esthaenie readjusted her cloak, voice braver than she felt. She would be fine. Both of them would be fine. She pinned her cloak shut and waited.
Danielle shrugged and pushed open the door. The music greeted them full force, a seductive melody to reel travellers in. Esthaenie watched the spiky-haired halfling sing as Danie spoke with the manager. She turned just in time to see the rogue slip a gold coin from his coffer, fingers graceful and sly. It winked at her in a streak of gold and vanished into the green fabric of her cloak pocket.
Esthaenie gasped and stalked over to Danie, chest full of righteous indignation. “What in the infernal plane was that?” She seethed, arms crossed, wings subtly twitching.
Danie whirled around, looking momentarily guilty before her mask of aloofness strapped itself to her face again. “We have to pay the bills somehow, feather--”
“Call me that again and I’ll throw you up onstage.”
“Oh, gods, please don’t.” Danie said,face scrunching in distaste. Esthaenie smirked. Danie’s stage fright was amusing, almost cute. She wouldn’t last two minutes as a bard. Danie used the distraction to grab her by the arm and drag her over to a corner table.
“Why are we here?” Esthaenie said, cringing back into her chair under the leering eyes of a drunken warlock. “I thought we were looking for work.”
“We are,” Danie said, paying the barkeep for a round of ale with the purloined gold, “and this is exactly where we’ll find it. The Auburn Wolf is full of people looking to hire mercenaries this time of year.”
“I can’t believe this. Selling our services like serfs. I’m trained in avariel combat. My sword is forged of glassteel! Do you know how rare glassteel is? I--”
Esthaenie let out a small shriek as a hand clapped her shoulder, narrowly missing her concealed wings. They flapped once in alarm. She prayed it looked like a gust of wind.
Danie’s face was pale, her eyes wide, though her voice was steady. “Hands off the elf, mister. If you’d like to do business, I’m a skilled rogue and she’s a warrior.”
The man behind her laughed and spun her to face him. Esthaenie recoiled. He was filthy, coated with grime and reeking of animal droppings. A tanner. Stubble coated his jaw and neck like miniature worms jabbing their way through his leathery skin. Two copper-piece eyes roved over her. He smiled. A gust of rotting breath oozed out.
“Your services I can do without, but this elf… we don’ get many elves around here. Name’s Rorek, the Graywing City tanner. I’m going to offer… 500 gold pieces, for the elf girl.”
Esthaenie sagged with relief as Danie shook her head. “No deal. I’m going to have to ask you to leave her here with me, Sir.”
Rorek scowled. “Second time tonight that an elf has refused my offer.”
“You heard her,” Esthaenie said, “leave.”
The man’s lip curled. She felt something cold and sharp press against her side under the table. Danie had noticed it too. Her eyes widened.
“New deal, rogue,” he said, grinning, “I take your elf friend with me, no charge, and she doesn’t get a knife in the gut.”
Danie looked between the two of them, mind racing. Esthaenie nodded to her. She would be alright. She’d disarm him. Danie hesitated. Esthaenie groaned softly. Come on, Danie, I’m a trained warrior!
Danie tensed. Esthaenie realized that she was about to lunge for the man, just before the man wheezed and was pulled away, up and over the back of the chair. The two whirled to see a tall, blonde young man, dressed in pale blue armor, his Carolingian sword pointed at Rorek’s chest.
“I hope he wasn’t bothering you,” he said, giving Esthaenie a quick nod. She shook her head, sighing. Danie hopped over the table to join her on the right side of the booth.
“Thanks,” Danie said, grinning at him, “we were fine, though. Just a couple of riffraff.”
The man smirked. He turned back to the squirming man. “Leave here with what little scraps of honor you have left, tanner.”
The man scowled and stood. He loomed over the blonde man, chest heaving with rage. He jerked his head toward a table of watching men. They stood, cracking their knuckles, and stalked to flank him in a grime-coated herd.
Esthaenie bit her lip and put on her bravest face. There were thirty men here, at least. Nearly the whole of the large inn’s visitors. That meant that they’d each have to dispatch at least ten each to win this fight. She gripped her sword and took a fighting stance.
One of the men lunged for her, shouting. She put up a sword and blocked. Another yelped as Danie leapt up, wrapping her legs around his shoulders and grappling him to the ground. She took a moment to gawk at the athleticism before turning to block a man’s fist with her hand. The blonde man struck a man with the hilt of his sword, keeping him unconscious.
Abruptly Esthaenie’s world spun around beneath her, and pain bloomed up the side of her face. She fell with barely enough time to roll out of the way of another haymaker punch. The burly man trying to attack her pulled at her cloak. She panicked as her wings were partially revealed and pulled her cloak back up, leaving her stomach open. He sent a crushing kick into it and she let out a cry of pain.
A blur of green streaked by above her and the burly man was down, winded under Danie’s small foot. Danie slammed a chair into his head and he lay still. She whirled and ran to Esthaenie.
“Fight’s not over yet. Come on, get up!” Danie said, voice stern. Her face flickered between concerned and steely. Esthaenie went pink. She really ought to pull her weight in this fight.
She stood shakily and grabbed her sword, ready to fight some more. She deflated when she saw that there were twenty more to dispatch. Gods, she was tired. Walking all day was no picnic, especially when she could be flying.
There was a sudden change of tune in the music onstage. It was faster, wilder, and stronger. Esthaenie felt warmth flow back into her bones as she struck, reinvigorated, throwing men out of the tavern or knocking them out. For a moment, she locked eyes with the halfling woman playing onstage. The lady gave her a smug smirk. Esthaenie couldn’t suppress a grateful smile. The woman rolled her eyes. Esthaenie frowned and turned to slam the flat of her sword into another man’s head.
The three were down to ten men, who looked like they’d rather be somewhere else but were fighting all the same. Esthaenie watched as Danie used her dagger to hurl an ale mug into an attacker’s head. She jumped and whirled, blocking a strike from a scrawny teenager and throwing him out of the establishment.
There was a gap in the fighting. The two sides split for a moment to regard each other, scowling. Eight men left, three of them still standing. Danie winced and put a hand to a small wound on her arm. Her green hair was wild and half-soaked with ale. She looked much like a sleepy kitten who had dashed through a thornbush. The blonde man looked hardly worse for wear. Esthaenie put a hand to the side of her face and winced. There would be a bruise there.
One of the eight men opened his mouth to shout a battle cry. A tentacle of dark energy lashed out of the back room and dragged him out, screaming. The other men turned, eyes wide with fear. Esthaenie watched, hand on her sword.
A person stepped out of the darkened hallway, wrapped in a deep gray cloak. They wore a robe of dark cloth, silver gloves, and boots to match. Most notable were the eyes, or whatever took the place of the eyes. The figure’s entire face was hidden in unnatural darkness but for two glowing orbs, flickering from silver to scarlet as Esthaenie watched. Danie muttered a prayer under her breath. The blonde man, however, sighed with relief.
“Thank Tyr. My arms are getting tired. Can you deal with these men, Illaeara?” the blonde man asked, leaning on his sword.
“I suppose,” the wizard, Illaeara, sighed, “but I hate wasting spells. Westward, who are your friends?”
“I don’t think I introduced myself,” Westward said. “I’m West Warding, but you can call me Westward. Cleric of Tyr. Human”
He proudly indicated his shield. The seven men were slinking off, frightened.
“Thanks for the help. I’m Danielle Amora, a rogue. Human. I know, I’m short enough to be a halfling.” Danie said, joking. There was a bit of a sigh on “halfling.” Danie didn’t exactly love being short.
“I’m Illaeara.Wizard.” the sorcerer fell silent. Danie opened her mouth to ask her species, but Westward shook his head.
“She doesn’t really want to disclose her species. Hence the hood theatrics.” he sounded a bit annoyed. Illaeara’s eye-lights turned orange and made a rolling motion.
The halfling bard hopped off the stage and joined them. “Great fight, West. Entertaining as hell. Would’ve joined it, but nooo…”
“You did very well in assisting us, Eris.”
“Yeah, whatever. Name’s Eris. I’m a bard. Halfling. Shocking, I know.” she gave Danie a wicked grin. Danie raised an eyebrow.
The others turned to her. Esthaenie’s mind raced.
“Er, yes. I’m Esthaenie Gilokerym.”
Danie was vigorously shaking her head. Esthaenie could have hit herself. Using her real name? Really?
She jumped. “I’m, er, I’m a warrior. Danie and I are looking for work. I’m a… a high elf.”
Westward and Eris nodded. Danie looked pensive. Just as they were about to relax, Illaeara let out a sigh.
“A high elf? What a pity. If you happened to be, say, a runaway avariel noble, I would offer to buy your wings.” Illaeara folded her arms over her chest.
Esthaenie drew her sword. Illaeara’s eyelights turned yellow for a moment, then blue. Danie drew a dagger. Illaeara laughed quietly.
“Put away your weapons. I’m only joking. Please, you don’t think I recognize avariel names?” the wizard chuckled. Esthaenie hesitantly put away her sword.
“You have wings?” Westward asked, one eyebrow raised.
“Y-yes.” Esthaenie sighed. There was no use hiding it now. She flapped her wings once under the cloak to demonstrate.
Westward looked thoughtful. “You two did say you were looking for work, didn’t you?”
(October 27, 2017 - 8:32 am)
This is very well-written! Nice job. I can't wait for the next part!
(October 27, 2017 - 1:24 pm)
holy guacamoly that's a ton of writing! Keep up the good writing mate!
(October 27, 2017 - 2:21 pm)
OMGoodness! Great writing Brook!
(October 28, 2017 - 7:08 pm)
Wow! I can't wait for more!
Onyx says foxz. Foxs? Okay... Foxs... I'll keep an eye out, Onyx.
(October 28, 2017 - 9:49 pm)
Chapter 2: Summerland
Our Story Begins
This was turning out to be one hell of a boring fight.
“Go team,” Eris muttered, plucking halfheartedly at her lute, “yay.”
“Eris, do you mind playing a livlier tune? This is hardly something we can fight to.” Danielle said, throwing a knife into the head of an advancing goblin. Eris scowled and stuck her tongue out. Rogues were the worst. Sneaky, underhanded, whiny rogues. If you were going to be a fighter, do it right and charge out into the open, screaming for blood.
“She’s correct, Eris. Play one of those tavern songs.” Illaeara waved her gloved hand dismissively at her. Eris threw a pebble at the wizard. It missed and clattered onto the ground. She sagged. Aim to match her abysmally low strength.
She’d be a warrior one day, though. A barbarian. Then they’d all see just how wrong they were. Eris grinned at the thought.
Westward leapt past her. She threw another pebble. This one clanged softly against his armor. Better than nothing! Westward shot her a glare that could cut steel as she smirked.
A spray of blood spattered Eris as a goblin screamed nearby. Esthaenie stood, a sword stabbed deep into the goblin’s chest. The winged woman looked down at her own dress and frowned. Eris licked her lips. The warm, metallic taste of goblin blood tainted her tongue.
If only her own hands were free to fight while she played--
Oh.
Oh, yes.
Eris spun around, dropping her lute, and began to root around in her pack. Westward shouted at her to hurry up and start playing, dammit, while Illaeara let out an angry huff and fireballed a couple of goblins. There! Eris snatched the instrument out of her pack. She had bought it just a few days ago in Bagnahn Port. The shopkeep said it was called a “kazú.”
Eris shoved it into her mouth and began to play. The others groaned and muttered threats. The vaguely melodic buzz worked, though. The group’s fighting grew stronger. Eris picked up her axe, still playing the instrument, and ran after the last goblin.
The others were shouting. Eris ignored them and leapt, managing to straddle the goblin’s shoulders. Danie shouted at her to “quit copying my style!” while Eris grabbed the goblin and her axe, playing tunelessly as she tried. Where was her axe--
She was in the air. The goblin laughed and advanced, sword raised, sprinting toward her.
So this is how it ends, she thought, winded, dust filling her mouth, I die here, never getting to punch Westward in the face. This is a tragedy.
Eris was just about to flash the goblin an obscene gesture when the sky darkened, crackling with electricity. The goblin froze just long enough for a bolt of lightning to streak out of the sky, so hot it burned a crater in his chest and blackened his skin. Eris swept her cloak over her face and huddled down, blinded by the heat and light close above.
The goblin let out a noise like a squirrel hit with a trebuchet load and fell to the side. A woman who looked like an angel stepped forward.
She was tall, with long ribbons of pitch black hair in curled vines around her head. Her skin was the color of a young sapling’s bark, and two hazel eyes were alight with joy. She extended a hand to Eris. Eris, blushing, took it.
She turned to see the rest of her team. Esthaenie was fuming at her, of course. Danie looked confused and as though she wanted to take a nap. Illaeara’s eye-lights were scarlet. She was irritable and angry. Ah, well. Eris didn’t give two rat’s hinds what they thought.
Westward, however, was practically drooling. He was staring at the mysterious wood elf as though she were more of an angel than Esthaenie. Eris chuckled. Idiot.
“Hello, friends!” the woman said, “I’m Starflower, and I’m so happy you’re all here!”
Eris groaned. She walked to stand next to Illaeara. “Well, I hate her. You?”
Illaeara huffed. “Of course.”
(October 30, 2017 - 8:31 am)