DISCLAIMER: I do not own Dungeons and Dragons. Though I'd be loaded if I did.
A/N: The tense tends to switch between past and present. This is intentional, not a mistake on my part.
Legacy of War
Act 1 – Raevy
Chapter 1
Raevy looked up and down the dock. She saw (merchants and gulls and peasants and sailors and ships and crates and the harbormaster and a road and sewer grates and-)
She cut off the thought. This was not a potential war zone. She was not in danger.
She switched her pack to the other shoulder and walked forward. She potted the Harbormaster, a short, fat, little man with a crop of greasy brown hair and a stench that suggests he'd been sleeping in the fisherman's latest catch, moving towards her (he gets up close draws his knife raises his arm above his head brings the knife-)
"Ma'am? Are ye a'right?" His voice expresses genuine concern. It is only now that Raevy realizes she's hyperventilating, reaching for where her spear would have been.
"Yes, I'm fine," Her voice bears the quality of one who is trying to convince themself, rather than the person they're talking to.
The harbormaster gave her a look of clear disbelief, but said nothing on the subject.
"Well... I need ye ta sign this 'ere form," He handed her a clipboard. "Now it ain't much, jus' a formal'y, we like to keep track of the people who visit Fisher Cove, is all."
She signed the form hurriedly, gave the man two silver for docking, then left quickly. She hated talking to people, especially humans.
(The paladin- if she could even call him that- stands over her, a blood stained sword in his right hand, a lock of her mother's inky black hair in his left. Her mother no longer struggles- she had given up on that long ago. The man notices her, and flings her mother's corpse to the side. It lands by the fireplace with a macabre thump that makes Raevy want to hurl. The man moves toward her, lust glinting in his blue eyes, busily working their way along her already-developed sixteen year old body. He reaches out for her, a grin spreading over his sunburned face. She grabs the knife on the table, desperate. He lunges at her, and the next thing she sees is the man gasping in a futile attempt to squeeze air past the knife in his throat. Blood pours from his-)
"Ma'am?" Not the harbormaster.
She looks at the source of the voice, and realizes she is both hyperventilating and sweating bullets. The voice belongs to a tall Wolfkind, a rarity west of the Mankurian Highlands.
"Ma'am?" He asks again. "Are you alright, Elf-ne?"
She jumps at his voice, her head pounding. The world around her seems to be spinning- never a good sign. It takes her a moment to realize he had used the elven suffix of "-ne". How long had it been since she had heard it attached to her? She made to reply, but stumbled into the inky blackness forewarned by her nightmarish recollection. She could hear his voice, feel the warm fur of his arms enclose her, but it all seemed so distant. She could make out cries for a doctor before letting the darkness consume her entirely.
Raevy awoke several hours later in a hospital bed. She began looked around the sparse room, noting possible escape routes, places that would prove certain death if she were cornered there, etcetera, before forcing herself to stop. She had already seen a great deal before she was successful in stopping herself, however- the doctor hurrying back and forth in the hall, the birds tittering incessantly on the tree branch outside the open window, the jug of water on her bedside table, and finally the large Wolfkind who had spoken to her earlier. He was dozing in a splintery wooden chair that would shatter with one well-placed kick. She considered waking him to apologize for whatever inconvenience she undoubtedly caused, but decided against it.
Instead, she began her usual morning ritual- a brief meditation to warm up her abilities, followed by some light exercise and finally a dose of the medicine she had received from a travelling cleric several weeks back.
("It won't heal your mind, not completely, but it will slow the demon horde caged within.")
Yeah, right, Raevy thought sullenly, crossing her legs. She mimicked this motion with her arms, placing the tips of her fingers on the front of the opposing shoulder. She remained that way for what seemed like hours before finally reaching out with her mind, feeling her way around the objects that decorated her room.
Koda awoke an hour later, to a sight he hadn't expected. While he was glad the elven woman seemed unharmed, her glowing eyes and the table floating by his head were rather disconcerting.
"Are you a shaman?" he asked, curious.
He suppressed a laugh when she jumped, causing one of the cups to fly into the side of her head. She sat blinking stupidly, for several moments, as if unsure of what had happened.
Her response was slow, thought out. "No. Or, at least I don't think so." And then,"...What's a shaman?"
At this Koda burst out laughing. The elf looked at him, confused, unable to comprehend what he found so funny.
. It took Koda several moments to calm himself. He waved her comment away and asked how she was feeling, his question broken up by occasional giggles.
"I'm fine." Slowly. Thought out.
He looked at her skeptically, and she began shifting her feet nervously.
"If I'm not allowed to know your actual state of your well-being, may I at least know the name of the woman who I carried across half the city?"
She considered his request for what seemed like an hour (and probably was) before nodding.
"...Well?"
This time her response came quickly, embarrassment coloring her cheeks. "Raevy."
" Raevy –ne," he said thoughtfully, tasting the name on his tongue. "My name is Koda Zidane. It's very nice to meet you."
A/N: Hopefully this is an improvement over the original.