Hello all, this story is based loosely off one of the epilogues which come at the end of Hordes of the Underdark, specifically one which is likely to occur for evil characters. My knowledge of the Forgotten Realms, or if that's even the right name, is far from perfect so if you notice any glaring errors in the story then please feel free to point them out.
Beyond that, I hope you enjoy. For the record Neverwinter Nights is the property of bioware... or someone. Not my best disclaimer, ah well.
The Second Hero of Neverwinter
Chapter 1
"You have no strength about you little flesh-man. You are not worthy to add to the skins of Caivanlang the Many."
"Now that is truly a tragedy." Darras replied, making a valiant effort to sound confident. It was not easy, and he doubted the demon was impressed by his efforts.
"I shall not even acknowledge this tiny Elvan thing you travel with. It is not even worthy to serve as one of my skeletal slaves."
Isania smiled and plucked an arrow from the quiver on her back.
"Don't let him fool you." She said quietly, "This creature appears to judge others by strength and girth alone. I can't imagine he's that smart."
"Ok." Darras replied, lifting his two bladed sword to guard his chest.
"He's strong, but he doesn't look smart. I doubt he could find his buttocks without a map."
"Which one? He's got five at least."
Caivanlang the Many was so named for the multitude of body parts that had been crudely stitched together to form his body. He either didn't know or didn't care what such pieces were or where they went however. Hands stuck out of the creature's knees. Ears coated his right cheek. There was a leg protruding from his throat. There was only one head though, it didn't belong to any species that either of them recognised but it didn't take a genius to know that this was yet another demon, or something similarly depraved, come to enjoy his new found freedom on the Prime.
"You're not the first to think they could best us creature!" Isania shouted to the abomination before her as she readied an arrow.
"I shall be the last."
"Oh there's an original retort," Darras said, "Which 2nd rate novel did you claw that from?"
"You dare mock me?!" Caivanlang hissed, the nineteen arms along it's spine bristled.
"Of course we dare you cadaverous git!" Darras shouted back, "What did you expect?"
"Enough!" It shouted, "I have let you bask in my glorious presence long enough. Die now flesh-things, and be grateful."
The demon tore at its own gut with five clawed hands. As he ripped the dead flesh and muscle away, four sword wielding skeletons fell from his patchwork gut to the ground.
"Pull back," Isania said, "Let them come to us."
The two of them stepped backwards several paces while the skeletons pulled themselves off of the floor. Isania let fly one of her lightning arrows, striking one of the un-dead skulls. The head was torn off but the creature seemed none the worse for wear because of it.
"He's a more competent necromancer then I thought." She said, "We're going to have to tear them apart."
"Right." Darras said, tightening his grip on his sword.
As the shambling creatures edged slowly towards the two adventurers, Isania began reciting the incantation for a fireball spell. Darras flicked his eyes between the skeletons and the expanding ball of fire between his mentor's hands before it shot off towards the enemy, detonating as soon as it struck one of the skeletons in the neck. The beast was blasted to pieces, the headless one fell to the floor, now utterly lifeless. The rest, though somewhat crispy continued to bear down on them. Their pace was increasing and their swords were raised and ready to be buried into living flesh.
"Let us be done with these nuisances," Isania said, readying another arrow, "and then let's kill this disgusting wretch."
"Gladly."
Darras stepped quickly towards the closest of the skeletons. The creature raised its sword over it's head, trying for a quick killing blow to the brain. With no muscles nor blood to power the arm however the motion was slow and cumbersome. Darras blocked the attack with little effort. He pushed the enemy's sword away, then swung his own blade through its neck. It stumbled backwards as its head fell from its shoulders, then collapsed altogether as the next strike sliced it's spine in two.
Only one left, he turned and saw it stumbling slowly towards Isania, who was casually ripping its limbs off one after the other. Soon the skeleton was hopping towards his target with no arms to attack with.
"This is too easy," He heard Isania say as her final arrow sent what was left of the skeleton falling to the ground.
"Was that the wrath of Caiviava the Mincy?" Darras said, making sure Caivanlang heard him. The demon simply stared at him with disinterested eyes.
"I used to find great amusement in watching my skinless slaves do battle with spindly nothings like yourselves. But it has grown dull. I shall deal with you now myself, and then see if any worthy flesh can be found in your city of Neverwinter."
"You will never see Neverwinter!" Isania shouted, "You will not live to see the next sunrise."
"The sun is not long for this world Elvan fool. You've seen how this world changes. Be glad that you shall not live to see your world as it is taken by my kind."
"Let's be rid of this thing." Darras said, "we're behind schedule as it is."
Isania began preparing another spell. Darras moved back to his discarded pack and pulled out the last remaining fire bomb. Caivanlang's gut was closing, but if he could fling an explosive into his belly, he might get rid of this abomination quickly and painlessly.
A stream of magic missiles flew from Isania's hands. Each one impacted on the various skins of the enemy's chest. On some of his hides they left small scorch marks, in others they left nothing at all.
Darras ran forward as close as he dared and let fly his grenade. The explosive struck high of the mark and bounced off of Caivanlang's chest. It exploded on the floor next to his fourth leg.
"A puny effort."
Isania shot off two arrows in rapid sucession. Two eyes in one of the beast's kneecaps burst open and spewed forth the decayed matter within.
"Is this the best you have to offer."
"Oh shut up you piecemeal windbag!" Darras screamed, stepping towards the demon with his sword at the ready, feeling somewhat more confident now that battle was properly joined, "Can you actually fight? Or do you just throw meaningless insults at your…"
A bolt of pulsating red energy shot forth from Caivanlang's mouth, it tore through the air with a ear piercing howl. Darras watched it move from between the demons teeth, straight into Isania's chest.
She flew backwards, the bow slipping from her hand. Her limp body hit the dry grass with an audible crash. Her already pale skin now looked grey.
"Does that satisfy?" The gravely voice of Isania's killer asked, "A suitable insult, little thin-fleshed man?"
What happened next he didn't remember so well. There was his sword and there was the meat he cut with it. He remembered the sound of his own screaming, manic and bloodthirsty, and he remembered how when he had slashed one piece of skin to ribbons, Caivanlang fell or shifted a little more and brought new bits of meat to beat. He slashed off arms, legs, shoulders, shins, anything that was in front of him. The demon cut at him, swatted him away with clawed limbs and shot at him with the same kind of infernal energy that had felled Isania. But though he was no longer thinking with a rational mind, what was left was apparently sufficient to keep himself alive. He had no healing potions left after the battle, his wand of lightning had turned to dust, and he had apparently managed to dodge the magic and keep coming back to tear at more and more pieces of Caivanlang because at the end of it all, after however long it took for him to start thinking and remembering things again, what he found was a dead demon with more cuts in it then he could count. Arms and legs and other bits were strewn about his body. Fortunately it didn't look like any were his.
Isania.
With that one word, fear overtook him, and seeking out the place where she had fallen, he found her outstretched and shivering on the ground.
She was still alive.
"Are you alright?" He asked, falling to his knees beside her. Stupid question, of course she wasn't alright. Her skin was as grey as a zombie's. She needed a priest, or something.
"343, 343 years of, of standing against, evil." Her voice was little more then a whisper, her eyes fixed to the red tinted clouds overhead, "I don't, want it to end like this Darras."
"It won't end like this." Darras said, tearing through his pack and then Isania's to find a healing kit or a suitable potion.
"No," she breathed, "I'm done for."
"You're not done for!" He shouted, tears streaming from his eyes, "I won't let you die like this. I'll get you to Neverwinter and I'll take you to someone who can help."
"Listen to me."
"Just hang on, stay with me." He placed his left arm gently under her neck.
"When you get to Neverwinter," she continued speaking as Darras lifted her over his shoulder, leaving both their packs behind and stopping to retrieve only his sword. He'd need it if they ran into something else. "Seek out, an elf named Sarir, Sarir Tre'vaiar. Tell him you were my apprentice. He'll finish what I started.
"It won't come to that."
"Say his name, repeat my instructions."
"It won't come to…"
"Darras! Do it."
"Sarir Tevir, tell him you sent me."
Isania almost laughed.
"Close enough."
"Just hang in there. Stay awake."
"I'm not sure I can."
"Just try."
"You know, you're starting to sound like me."
"Helm's patience," he said, trying to force a smile that neither of them could see, "That is not good."
"I want you to know…"
"No, don't say it."
"I'm proud of you. I think you might just make it."
The tears that had been threatening to emerge from Darras' eyes finally showed themselves. He had no spare hand to wipe them away and so they blurred his vision, forcing him to slow his pace.
He walked for two miles before he realised that Isania had stopped breathing.
"Not a problem." He said, "I'll get you to Neverwinter and get you raised. But, but I need to stop for a minute, ok? Just to catch my breath. Dry my eyes, ok?"
He placed her body down gently on the grass, and then collapsed next to it. The roads were no place to break down and sob but Darras could do nothing else. First came the tears, then he threw up.
Almost miraculously, nothing chose to disturb him. Eventually he placed Isania back over his shoulders and continued walking. Neverwinter's walls were almost in sight now.
"Halt! Stay where you are or you will be put down by archers. Do you understand."
Darras didn't respond, instead he stared intently at the patterns on the city gate's elaborate knocker.
"I said do you understand?" The militiaman on the wall above shouted to him.
"I understand." He muttered finally.
"State your name, business and place of origin."
"My name is Darras Waynolt. My friend and I have travelled here from Port Llast, right now my business is getting my friend back from the dead."
"And after that?" The voice on the wall asked.
"Sanctuary."
The head peering at Darras over the wall vanished and there was some indecipherable murmuring from above for a few moments before it reappeared.
"Be prepared to surrender all your weapons and gear upon entering the city. You will be searched and examined by a cleric of Tyr, if no infernal taint or trace of evil is found lingering within you then we shall permit you to enter Neverwinter, tend to your friend if we can, and return your gear. Any violent action shall result in your death. Do you understand?"
"I understand." Darras replied, looking up as far as the body over his shoulders would allow, "Let's just get this done with."
The head disappeared again, and for minutes nothing happened. He almost thought that they'd decided not to let him in after all but eventually the large oak gates creaked open.
Two large armoured figures were waiting inside the gate for him. One held out a hand to take his sword from him, the other helped him carry Isania to a nearby robed figure, who looked at her like she was a severed finger in his underwear drawer.
"Your dagger." The second guard said to him. Darras stare blankly at him for a few seconds before realising that the small knife he carried was still attached to his belt. He removed the weapon and handed it over.
"I think I left the rest of it on the road." He said, though apparently this reassurance was not satisfactory as he still ended up getting patted down to make sure he wasn't concealing something to level the city with under his vest.
"The boy is not a threat to the city." The cleric said, having apparently done what divination rituals he was going to, "but this elf, she has been touched by fell energies. It looks like she has been dead for hours, the infernal influence has already spread throughout her body, there is nothing here fit for her soul to return to. It is with whichever God or Goddess would have it, now."
Darras hadn't let himself even consider that he might hear these words as he had carried Isania to Neverwinter. This couldn't be right.
"How is it you can do nothing?" He asked, trying not to shout, "can't you purge whatever crap she'd been infected with?"
"Keep a civil tongue while addressing a servant of the Just God, boy!"
"Answer my question or you'll find yourself missing a head!"
"Easy." The guard who had taken his sword said, placing one hand on Darras' shoulder, "Firlo, answer the man's question."
"Very well, if you must know to cleanse her body of the foul taint within, I would also burn away most of her internal organs. If I were then to revive her she would not survive a minute. Does this answer satisfy?"
Darras didn't remember what happened after that too well either. This revelation that Isania was truly and irreversibly dead forced whatever energy he had left away. The least thing he remembered before waking up within Neverwinter's walls was the stone floor rushing forth to meet him as he passed out.
To be continued.