Elf, Man, and Demon
(Chapter the First – Tense Meetings)
A/N from Silvorfithrade the Oddity:
And here goes another attempt at writing HotU fanfiction. I writer's blocked about halfway through the first one, but that was two years ago, so here we go again. Not much will make me happier than a review or three; I always improve so much more when someone else is pointing out all my flaws. : ) So...I hope you like the story enough to at least keep from printing out a copy and burning it in a blast furnace. Happy readings, friends.
And now, the usual. I don't own HotU, or NwN, or any of the copyrighted stuff. Tazi is my charrie, so I guess you can say I own her...but other than that, I claim nothing. Except, well the writing, because I did do that but...oh, just remember I'm not getting paid for this so don't sue me. -wink-
"Dooooom doom dooo-"
"Deekin, kindly shut up. Please." Tazieyn Jir'eniel slid to the ground, her back against the ornate stone pillar, and rubbed her temples in frustration. Even thinking about running back to Waterdeep caused the geas to react, and at this moment, the half-elf was learning firsthand what it meant to have her soul tightly constricted. The tiny kobold noticed the pain in her face and fished in his pack, holding out a small, blue bottle.
"Boss want potion? Deekin gives potion to achy boss?"
"No, I…I'm fine, Deekin."
The pale young woman smoothed her jet black hair down and straightened up, shaking her head in the process. "I think I just need some sleep."
"Oh. Sleep is very healthy for Boss! Sleep be a good, good idea. Deekin thinks…maybe he sleep too?"
"Yes, you can sleep too."
"Huzzah!" The little kobold skipped around merrily, earning the two of them murderous looks from onlooking drow warriors.
Tazieyn Jir'eniel looked around just then and sighed, realizing just then that it might be a long time before she saw her meager little home of Hilltop ever again. Everything had happened so fast; she had originally been commissioned by Durnan, the innkeeper of the Yawning Portal to investigate what originally appeared to be a drow invasion from a vast network of tunnels beneath the city of Waterdeep. Upon reaching the bottom level, she and the kobold bard had run straight into the demented owner of the complex labyrinth, a mage with considerable power. Power considerable enough, in fact, to place a geas, a web of complex, binding magic of enslavement, on her soul. Now, the only way to escape the Underdark and return to the surface was to stop the drow intrusion, but the drow, it seemed, were especially prone to mixed politics and traitorous deeds.
Shaking her head in halfhearted amusement at the irony of it all, Tazieyn looked around her. Allied with drow? Her own Moon Elf blood boiled at the very notion. Not that she had been one to harbor racial hatreds, but the resentment, it seemed, ran much deeper than conscious thought. Yes, this faction of drow were different from the rest. She knew that much from hearing the name of the goddess they worshipped.
Eilistraee. The goddess who had given her new life. The one who had helped her accept who she was, helped her get over her lost paladinship. The one who had accepted her with open arms when the disciples of Tyr cast her out. Prejudices carried the weight of a thousand ironies, it seemed.
"Boss! You is daydreaming again? You sure does that a lot lately."
"What?" Tazieyn glanced down and realized the kobold had been tugging at her leathers for some time. "Sorry Deekin. Lead the way."
"That be it, Boss. Deekin not knows where to go in big dark elf city. Maybe…maybe Boss know where?" Deekin glanced up at her with round, hopeful eyes.
Tazieyn swore as she realized she was completely lost in a city of dark elves, standing beside a kobold with a crossbow that was quickly running out of bolts. A tap on the shoulder set off her reflexes completely, and her rapier was drawn, the razor-edged tip no more than a centimeter away from the tense throat of a powerful, albeit familiar-looking tiefling warrior. Inwardly, she breathed a sigh of relief, but held her stance. "What do you want, Valen?"
He cocked an eyebrow. "The Seer had a vision. She told me you were lost and sent me to find you."
"Oooh! Goat-man have nice tail!" Deekin admired, eyes shining. "Deekin writes story about goat-man, maybe?"
"Deekin, that's enough." She clapped her free hand over the kobold's mouth, but the rest of her body was motionless.
"So you've been acquainting yourself with the…magnificent city of Lith My'athar," Valen sneered, nodding with his head toward the meager encampment and scattered buildings. "The temple of Eilistraee is that way." He pointed in a vague direction, and glanced back at her face. "Well? Shall I lead the damsel in distress back to her hiding place?"
"Is that how you see me?" Tazieyn asked, mild amusement tugging the corners of her lips into a smile. "A weak little woman here by force, with no strength of her own?"
"Boss not weak!" snarled Deekin, the kobold jumping immediately to his leader's defense. "Boss fight big dragons, kill them too! Deekin sees! Deekin bet Boss can fight two dragons—"
Here, Tazieyn clamped her hand back over his mouth. "Shut up," she snarled at the kobold through gritted teeth. Turning back to the big man, she blinked at him. "Wanna have a go at it? Right here. Just to prove you wrong. Or are you going to back off because you're afraid to lose?" she taunted. Usually a calm, collected strategist, her patience had been wearing thin as of late especially since her forced arrival in the Underdark. Drawing her other rapier, she turned and faced him, crouched low in a battle stance. Yes, he was close to twice her size, but she was too irritated at this point to care.
"I refuse to fight a woman," he said simply, watching her.
"Then go back to the Planes," murmured a voice behind him, silk-smooth and dangerous. A petite drow woman dressed in black assassin's leathers materialized from the shadows around them and eyed Valen intently. "You pledge to help us defeat the Valsharess, a drow high priestess and a queen, and yet you back down from a simple challenge issued by our newcomer? Liar's words, Valen. You've fought women before. Accept her challenge and don't you dare walk away a coward."
A red tinge came over his deathly pale cheeks at her biting remarks. "Fine," he said to Tazieyn, unhooking the heavy flail from his belt. "I suppose if you die, we can always take your body to the Seer and have her raise you."
"Um…Boss? Maybe…you rethink offer? That thing look big and nasty…"
Tazieyn ignored him. She stared into his eyes, such an icy blue, those eyes, and sidestepped a quick thrust. He retaliated by drawing a knife from his belt and throwing it at her, the surprise attack causing her to drop her guard with her left hand. He then swung the flail at the opening; even as she dodged again, the attack threw her off-balance, and she spun right within reach of his off-hand.
He made a grab for her cloak, but she simply undid the tie and shed it, leaving him holding an empty pile of cloth. Throwing it aside, he turned to search for her and spotted her in time to block and parry a double strike from her tiny blades. She felt satisfaction well up inside her as a line of red appeared on the back of an exposed hand.
"So tieflings do bleed," she remarked casually as he deflected another of her moves. She was rewarded with another death glare and a fierce swing of the flail. Then, he seemed to regain his composure and relax.
"I hear moon elves have ice for blood," he commented as one of his blows scraped her right calf, tearing through the cloth and leather to leave a deep gash in her leg. "Ah, you bleed too, I see."
"I'm half human too," she returned, fighting to remain focused through the pain and leaving another, deeper gash on his forearm, almost laughing as the greave fell to the ground, the leather straps sliced by her rapier.
"Then we are not so different," he said simply. Feinting to the left, he dove to her right and slammed a heavy fist into the side of her head.
oOo
Tazieyn opened her eyes and found her vision blurred, a pounding ache in her head. Suddenly remembering where she was, she groped around for her rapier and felt…sheets? "Gods…" she muttered, sinking back down.
"That was foolish, to challenge him like that," commented someone. Nathyrra?
"I guess not sleeping in two days can do things to a person's perception of what's wise," she groaned, reaching for her pack to find a potion. Her pack was nowhere to be found.
"Here." The drow handed her a blue bottle, which she downed gratefully. The pain in her head lessened and her vision cleared substantially.
"Besides," Tazieyn continued, "it wasn't as though you didn't encourage him."
Nathyrra shrugged. "He forgets who he fights for, and against, sometimes. It doesn't hurt to remind him from time to time."
Two torches on the walls, the only source of light in the room, revealed a black writing desk on the room's opposite side. A chair seemingly carved out of grey stone was placed haphazardly near it, and draped on it was her belt. The two rapiers she always carried had been placed neatly on the table, and beside it was her pack.
"So you trust me and he doesn't? Is that how it stands?" Tazieyn asked. Her voice carried no acidity; her question was simply that; a question.
"Who says I trust you fully just yet?" Nathyrra countered and disappeared out of the room.
Tazieyn stared at ornate designs carved into the ceiling and contemplated the elf's words. Trust, she decided finally, was a two-way street.