THE WAR OF THE FIVE
A Dungeons and Dragons Tale by Vyrazhi, ©2017
(AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the first installment of a fanfic I'm writing based upon my very first adventure on . I have permission from my fellow party members to publish this, and one of them suggested I write from my own character's perspective at first. Therefore, it shall begin and end with Tati Svari, and…)
CHAPTER ONE: THE DRAGON SHAMAN: FREEDOM'S PRICE
Aglarond has broken out into civil war after the tenuous grasp of the Red Wizards of Thay was broken. What's left has shattered into pieces and infighting, and you, the players, are right in the middle of it. Are you there to salvage what is left, or simply to profiteer?
The choice is yours…
On the Outskirts of the Yuirwood
"Look at me, filthy outsider." The tattoo-emblazoned human sneers at me. "You call yourself free?"
"Free of you, at least," I rasp, my lungs like full water skins. "That's enough for me."
"For now." He bends his neck so I can take a closer look at the etchings upon his scalp. "Recognize these?"
"Aye."
Umir Monumvirat, Red Wizard of Thay, grits his teeth. "What do they signify?"
"Your devotion to necromancy: the School of Death." I hock and spit on the ground.
Without warning, he strikes me, the meat of his palm bruising my jaw in a blow that brings tears to my eyes. "Correct. I can rend your soul in half, then quarters, eighths, sixteenths, and onward to oblivion. I can bind it any way I wish, confining you to one of my phylacteries until even the gods forget you. Perhaps I shall consume you as I do my daily meals, relishing the flavor in each morsel. Would that please you?" Silence. "Consider yourself fortunate, dear Thousand. I want you returned to me alive in chains, not as a corpse."
"Oh?" More silence. "I have celestial blood. My ancestors will kill you and all your minions beforehand."
"Why haven't they?" The Red Wizard grins. "You may be rare to my kind, but up there, you're just another aasimar among your fellows. The truth you won't acknowledge is that I value you more than your vaunted great-great-great-grandparents do. Otherwise they would have saved you." Pause. "Not praying enough?"
"What do you know about prayer? After you die, you'll become green mould in the Wall of the Faithless."
"Ha!" My former master throws his head back so far I hope his neck will break. It doesn't. "I will never bow to any deity, and I will never die. You think that trinket you managed to steal from Founder Safiya will protect you? It's just a brass idol. You bow to it, yet I thought you were less of a fool than my other subjects."
"You're the fool. I'm already gaining power from it. When Vakhra and I are finally one, you'll be nothing."
"Brave words, but untrue." Monumvirat's voice rings dully in my ears, a rusting bell. "Run if you will, but you know you can't hide. I have allies willing to assist me. You have none, except an imaginary spirit. Do you believe you can do as you please, now that you're no longer a slave? Freedom has a price, girl." He leans in so close that his face surpasses mine, engulfs mine, and I dissipate. "One you'll never be able to pay!"
My golden eyes fly open. A millipede flexes its thousand legs, then tickles my nose. I give a start.
My hand snatches it before my mind knows what's happening. I toss the vermin in my mouth and chew. Its hard shell crunches between my teeth, allowing bitter ooze to burst forth. I taste it only a little, then swallow.
As a thrall and experimental subject, I've been fed much better than this. Now that I'm free, I'm hungry.
I'm not starving, however. Vakhra has seen to that, allowing me to find the fattest insects and ripest berries. I don't lack for water, either, or a cave to keep me dry. Here in the Yuirwood, such things are plentiful. What about fire? When I collect enough kindling, I light it with the breath of my totem, bestowed upon my lungs.
That's right: Vakhra is a dragon, a brass one to be exact. He's the guardian of all free spirits, as I am one.
At least that's what he tells me. That's what I tell myself. How much further am I ahead of Monumvirat?
I never stole from Founder Safiya. She offered her brass idol to me, along with one thousand gold pieces: my chattel price. She also let me choose an enchanted breastplate from her artificers' stores, along with a masterwork longspear, Bag of Holding, and basic set of supplies to keep me alive in the wilderness.
"This isn't charity," she said. "Umir is my enemy, and I mean to slay him before the week is over. Flee."
Flee I did. It wasn't long before I heard the news: The Red Wizards had turned upon themselves. Whatever tenuous hold they had upon the land of Aglarond was now shattered, the continent in a state of civil war.
My heart rejoiced, but my body groaned. How long could I survive in the Yuirwood, home to territorial elves?
Three moons, I've found. As long as I keep myself well-hidden and don't disturb my immediate surroundings unduly, the elves and half-elves don't notice me. The downsides? I always stink of fear-sweat, no matter how I scrub myself in a nearby stream. I can't stop trembling, either from hunger or constant tension. When I do sleep, I end up thrashing around on the dirt floor of my cavern, gripped in the throes of a nightmare.
Most worrisome of all, I am beginning to see things that aren't there. I'm certain they're not benign spirits.
Vakhra keeps those at bay. He lets me know when I must hide, or when a shadow isn't cast by one of the forest's wild beasts. Monumvirat has friends other than his fellow Red Wizards, who have betrayed him. He calls upon the dead, and it is they who stalk me. I've had to run from a shambling skeleton once or twice.
The Founder's gifts of gear can't protect me completely. I need to find my own allies, and soon.
My real name is Tati Svari. I'm running out of time.