Tales from the Vast

by XeroxCopycat

Ravens Bluff, a city on the edge of the wild frontier. Long known as a haven for adventurers from the world over, it has bred generations of dauntless heroes. Tis here that a new generation of heroes will rise from the legends of yesteryear, bound for death and glory alike. Such is their tale of wild adventure, of friendships forged & passions flared.

In many a folktale of Faerûn there is mention of a City of Adventurers, where every citizen is a mighty and famous delver, monster-slayer, explorer, or smiter of foes, from the bread-bakers to the roofers, the dung-sweepers to the high judges. The very cobbles of the streets are gold, they say; handfuls of gems serve as small change, and the humblest houses crammed with with valuables of gleaming beauty.

Folktales are often like that.

Yet, in one small corner of our world, such a city does exist. A young and vigorous city, where magic dazzles and wealth is heaped upon in plentiful bounty. A city of watchful ravens, where danger lurks nae a elbows grasp away. A city of the bold and the grasping, the youthful and the daring, and the reckless and the wild-spirited.

The City of Ravens Bluff. The Living City, City of Adventurers, the Shining Jewel of the Vast; Many a title has the city, nestled in a sly corner of the Dragon Reach at the foot of the Earthfast Mountains. held throughout it's history. To me, this grand city, tis the place I have had the honor of calling home.

I remember well how my tale began, how I had come to this beloved city. Born from the fantastical lands of Halruaa, I was orphaned to the city upon the steps of the Halls of Mystery, the high house of Mystra within Ravens Bluff. There was I raised, in the days when the city was young, and orc & hobgoblin raids were all too commonplace, and there I came to know life and the love of the goddess.

My early years were spent amongst the grand libraries of the Hall of Mysteries, scouring tome upon tome of arcane lore, learning all that I could of the Art. Some would say I had an insatiable, perhaps even gluttonous, appetite for knowledge, and they'd well be right indeed, for even now I still thirst to know all that can be known.

Time passed, and in that time was I ordained as a priestess of the faith. Like so many others whom called Ravens Bluff home, I to was taken up by the whirlwinds of adventure. Imagine ye so, a fragile young lass such as myself in ill-fitting robes, amongst hardened swordsmen and masters of Art. Yet somehow I endured even those harrowing trials. In time though, I made a name for myself amongst even these greatest of heroes.

Amongst those bright days, I in time discovered a treasure more valuable than any king's ransom. His name was Spark, a faerie dragon who's scales shinned with the hues of morning sunrise. A most curious creature he was indeed, owning forth a passion for Art to match even my own. Caught amongst the honeyed splendor of the Living City, he had found refuge amongst the good folk of the city, lairing amongst the patrons of the Golden Griffon Inn.

Even now I remember lovely Spark well, ever the consummate performer he was; bold, adventurous, perhaps even a bit lecherous at time, he was ever yearning to amuse even the most stolid hearts. Some found his puckish whimsy quite the irritation, yet myself, I found his charming tales of grand adventure, and his wild-spirited persona most astounding. In time and through chance, he and myself came to know one another quite well.

In time, my fame within the city blossomed and grew, and so do did a friendship between human and dragon turn into love. Our hearts entwined, I accompanied the young Spark home in the emerald depths of the Highbank Forest. Twas was a land of verdant beauty, of unbridled life, and wild revelry. It was intoxicating, like the finest vintage, to live life so carefree and unbound. Many a moon did I spend amongst the fae folk, and the cares of the world washed away. I so wished I could have stayed for the rest of my days. Yet, I knew well and true my duty, for my heart belonged in Ravens Bluff. We were of two very different worlds my love and I were, and with the storms of war looming upon the horizon, he and I parted ways. I prayed to Mystra, wishing upon the moon and stars that when the city knew peace, that we would reunite in this secret garden, bound eternal for all our days. Though many tears of sadness we weeped, we knew that one day our dream would come true. We spent one final even together, enthralled in love-play under the light of Selune.

Twas a night most wondrous indeed...

In time, I had settled back into the beating heart of the Living City, back amongst the people of the Bluff. Still many an adventure I yet partook, daring all in the name of the city and beloved Mystra. Yet, it seemed so different then as it twas before. Perhaps still was I a drunkard for the verdant lands of that emerald dream. It was only with the passing months I began to notice the stirring deep within me. And through Mystra's guiding hand was the veil of mystery parted, revealing the wondrous gift I had been so blessed with.

I was with child...

I took leave from the adventuring profession to tend to my new found duty, one which I could nae had imagined myself ready for, were it not for the wise council of many a dearest friend. Such it twas, a mother to be, yet so young was I. Was I ready to bear such a grand responsibility? Months passed, and in time my beloved child came to fruition, a boundless flower growing upon the tree of life. I thought for countless days of a name most fitting for my unborn daughter. Then I remember well Spark's tender words, how I was to him like a cherry blossom, fluttering wild and free in the wind. It was then but one name came to my mind, the name which my child would bear for all her days.

Sakura...

She was a child born of two worlds. Though human in appearance, such I suspect the whim of the goddess upon, her bloodline coursed with draconic power deep within. Oh was she ever magnificent to behold, possessed of an unearthly grace, and a razor-sharpened intellect to match my own. By the time she was old enough to walk and speak, she had already begun to show signs of the Art, one which came as instinctual to her as taking in breath. Yet mastery of the Art was not her only forte, for she would find joy in the bardic arts, especially the art of dance and song. In time, her Art continued to mature, oft exceeding even my own great expectations of her, powers which I suspect to this day the hand of blessed Mystra upon.

For all the joys and wonders her early life held, she was not without her own quirks. Oft times she would act upon instinct rather than patience, a flaw I dared hoped she would grow out of as she matured. And though a silver tongue she possessed, she would daft speak her mind without heed to her words, a trait which landed her in trouble more than a few times I dare say. Aye, she was the embodiment of her father, bold to act, and boisterous indeed.

Many a year past, and the city came to grow fruitful and prosper, though nae without great cost. War eventually came to the lands of the Living City, a traitorous act perpetuated by one of our own. The city was pushed forth to the brink, and only through the gallantry and sacrifice of many a good man did we eventually triumph. The scars of war bared a heavy toll upon all, and upon myself even more so, for in those final days of the war was the Highbank taken to the torch. I sought out our secret home, yet twas little left than death and decay, for the home of my love was burned to cindered ash, with but no sign of my beloved. For many a tenday I sought my love out, yet no word of him came. Season upon season passed, and even through Mystra's divine hand, I failed him. Emptiness filled my heart, and for the first time in my life, I knew loss.

In time, I retired from the adventuring game; seeking to continue the work of beloved Mystra, whom had since patronized Ravens Bluff as the City of Magical Knowledge. I pored amassed wealth and influence into a single grand undertaking, a testament to thy goddess' love for the Living City, a legacy to be passed forth for generations to come. The Halls of Sevenspire, a grand sanctum of knowledge and learning open to all who seek wisdom. Her ivory spires a shining jewel standing tall upon all.

Yet now my heart beats silent, an abyss of loss and regret darker than endless midnight. Sakura has grown into a lady of quixotic beauty & fiery temperament, yet even now we quarrel, the bonds of mother and daughter slowly tearing. And much like myself at that age, she to now yearns to seek adventure, daring all in search of treasure of fame for beloved Ravens Bluff. Yet, for all the wondrous tales I had partaken upon, all the triumphs I myself won for glory and honor, even now I hesitate to permit her what her heart yearns. Am I so wrong to refuse my beloved daughter so? Or should I let her take the reigns of fate into her own hands? This is the burden that a mother must face, even one where my stolid heart waivers. I pray Mystra, mother of all magic, guide me in doing what tis only right.

I pen now these words to the great tomes of history, for only now can my beloved Sakura write forth her own tale. For weal or woe, may beloved Mystra guide her upon her own path.

Lady Cheryl Aiestrella, Emissary of Mystra

14 Ches, Year of the Vindicated Warrior, 1383 DR

1

No, I would not want to live in a world without dragons, as I would not want to live in a world without magic, for that is a world without mystery, and that is a world without faith. And that, I fear, for any reasoning, conscious being, would be the cruelest trick of all.

Drittz Do'urden

Morning dawned bright upon the City of Ravens Bluff, luminous pillars of amber-hued radiance cresting over the mountains, beaming down dawning light to the city, burning forth the haze of morning fog that hung low upon the Living city. As much in tune with nature, life began to stir anew within the slumbering giant upon the shores of the Dragon Reach. The shop-keeps opened their doors, harking forth glittering wares from across the width and breadth of Faerûn. From the clanging of hammers from iron workers, to the clattering of horse-hooves across cobblestone streets. such was the rhythmic cacophony that morning time brought to the city, echoing from building to building, echoing forth in harmonic symphony.

Such was life in the Living City, a place known far and wide the world over as the City of Adventurers. All whom called Ravens Bluff home, from the humble bread-makers, to the high judges and ironmongers, all had tasted the sweet tang of adventure in one form or another. Such tales was wide believed by the rest of Faerûn. Aye, indeed such a place should nae have existed, where one could scarce throw a stone without hitting a battle-scared warrior, or some master worker of Art; a beautiful, perfect chaos this place was, perpetually hanging from the precipice of self-destruction. Such was the lot of heroes who sought fame and fortune, for they were indeed a most volatile concoction.

Yet, despite such a fragile existence Ravens Bluff had faced, she had held strong through many a trial. Through red war in the fields & the forests, to intrigues from greedy Sembians with more gold than brains; the Black Network and their dread lords, the Red Wizards of Thay, countless extra-planar threats, demons and dragons alike, all had dared to bring the City of Adventurers to ruin. Were she but any other city, such machinations would have brought the Living City to it's knees. Twas it not for the fabled gallantry of the city's myriad adventures, Ravens Bluff would have well suffered such a dread fate. Yet through all, she endured; through might of arms & mastery of Art, to glib tongues & even the divine hand of the gods themselves. Ravens Bluff, the City of Adventurers had become a beacon of hope in the savage lands of the Vast.

In time, such had the heroes of the city rose to such fame, that in years past three gods sought to patron the Shining Jewel of the Vast. First amongst the three was lovely Sune, goddess of beauty, who longed to turn the Living City into a verdant paradise of beauty and passion. She was known well amongst the folk of the city, for tales spoke of her clash in the very streets of Ravens Bluff with the power known as Glasya, consort to the lord of the third, a power that sought to mar perfect beauty. Sune tasked but one duty upon the heroes of the bluff, the destruction of the devil who had so marred the goddess within her own realm.

Second amongst the three was Tyr, the greater deity of justice. He so wished to patron the city as a glimmering example of law and virtue; a city of justice, one where the rule of fair and just law held sovereign over all. Tyr's duty to the grand heroes of the city was to free the people of a faraway land, a people enslaved by tyrants & preyed upon by demons known long and well to the heroes of the Vast.

Last upon all twas Mystra, mother of all magic. Her wish was to transform the jewel of the Vast into a city of magical knowledge, a place of learning and wisdom known the world over. Her task, recover an artifact of legend from ruined Myth Drannor. The all three duties were fraught with danger unequaled, the heroes of the Living City prevailed, pleasing well the three gods. Yet only one could well be chosen to bring their blessing upon the Living City. Finally, after much debate and the destruction of an errant god-being who sought to claim power in the world, twas blessed Mystra that was at last chosen. Through her subtle hand, seekers of lore and knowledge began to congregate upon the Living City, such now had they done so over a score of winters.

As morn's brilliant light peaked above the granite mounds of the Earthfast Mountains, the streets and back streets of Ravens Bluff sprung forth to vigorous life. Nestled upon their flanks was one of the many crowning jewels of the City of Adventures, the ivory spired towers known as the Halls of Sevenspire. Constructed a mere half-score of years beforehand, the halls served as a grand library of lore, rivaled only by the ancient halls of distant Candlekeep, or the deep catacombs of lore beneath Mount Talath in far away Halruaa. Here scholar and seekers of lore the world over toiled day & night, cataloging ancient tomes of both magical and historic lore. Twas a playground of knowledge, open to all with open hearts and open minds whom sought forth wisdom.

Even with the blessings of beloved Mystra, such a place could not have been brought into existance without the guidance of a grand benefactor. Such the Halls of Sevenspire had in their beloved matron, Lady Cheryl Aiestrella, the Emissary of Mystra. She was a woman of gentle grace and unearthly power, known by all and loved by many amongst the good folk of Ravens Bluff.

Twas a tale of legend Cheryl's story was. A fragile slip of a priestess in her younger days, oft known for wearing ill-fitting robes, and a most queer shade of violet in her long, lanky hair. A girl twas she whom stood upon side many a great hero of the day, performing courageous deeds aplenty. From sailing forth up storm-wracked seas, bringing priestly dooms to many a pirate flag, to saving the city from deadly plots, she had, in both war and peace, brought hope many a time over. As much a master artisan, she had carved forth a legacy most fine amongst the heroes of the Living City, a shimmering point of starlight amongst darkest night.

In time, even the heroes of old moved on in their lives, letting the youthful take forth the reigns of destiny into their hands, and such twas the high lady no different. She had grown from humble beginnings to a being of transcended power, the chosen emissary of beloved Mystra. For even for her, a woman of deep passions and grand beliefs, she had an even greater duty above all, that of a beloved mother.

Lady Aiestrella's first-born child, a girl by name of Sakura, twas a scraggly haired wisp of a girl with a keep intellect and boundless charisma. Born with a gift for the Art and a temperament as bright and blazing as perdition's flames. For years, Lady Cheryl struggled long to mold her in thy own image, to temper her daughter's raging fire. Yet as much as she would try, her daughter resisted. Such was the way of a headstrong youth.

Yet, much as her mother had done so many winters ago, Sakura began to hear the siren's call of adventure. Such had been her wish for many a moon, for she foresaw such a life as a release from her mother's old-fashioned ways, a life which Lady Cheryl had forced, ever so lightly upon the impressionable young lady. To Sakura though, no matter how gentle her mother's words, twas the heavy-hand of some damnable iron fisted tyrant in her mind.

The emissary, for all her wisdom, was torn to her core as to how best to proceed. Dare all and allow her to seek fame and fortune as she had long before? Or deny her her destined path, and risk an inseparable rift between the two? Such was the burden that motherhood had placed upon Lady Cheryl, one she spent many an eve in supplication to her goddess for.

High upon the ivory towers of the Halls of Sevenspire, gazing down upon Ravens Bluff in morning spender, young Lady Sakura looked down from the balcony of her bedchamber. The sting of sea water stung her nostrils, shaking forth the sleep from her befuddled mind. A flowing morning gown of sea-green kept the dawning chill from her slender frame.

Twas a privileged view of the city, one matched only upon the deck of the grand flying galleon of the Moody Brothers Circus, a pleasure she had experienced long ago as a child. The sea-born breeze shifted her unkempt hair, parting it gently away from her emerald-hued eyes. It was a moment of quiet solitude, a instant away from the world beyond her window. A world she yearned desperate to partake.

As much as she enjoyed the picturesque view of the City of Adventurers, she knew deep within her heart that this place had long become her prison. Twas so for as many a season she could well remember now. Often had Sakura pleaded for leeway from her mother's way of life, an escape from this life of mundane servitude. Twas not that the younger Lady Aiestrella cared not for such noble pursuits, for her heart was one seeped in goodness, yet she saw the world from a far different looking glass than her mother. Where Lady Cheryl sought solace & solitude from the world around her, she sought action. They were so much apart in their view of the world, and yet it was her mother who imposed her stolid way of life upon her young daughter with the weight of the gods.

Above all though, the younger Lady Aiestrella yearned adventure of her own, such as her mother had sought so freely long ago in her own youth, such to this very day her mother still often waxed poetic about. Yet, Lady Cheryl forbade her such dangerous pursuits, reminding her long and well the perils such a life carried with it. Twas a poisonous dream her mother oft warned her, a envenomed snake waiting to strike forth and bring her ruin, such twas her commonplace words of woe and caution.

Twas not that the youngling was ill-prepared for such. Certainly she was beyond talented in the Art, a gift of magic born of instinct and natural intuition. Such she thought was the doings of her father, a man whom Lady Cheryl spoke very little of, and only then in whispered mysteries. Yet, as much as Sakura yearned to explore the world about her, her mother's words carried with them the weight of gods, the words of Mystra herself. Such a heavy burden even now sagged heavy upon her heart.

Sakura sighed deeply, taking forth a deep breath from the world outside, a world she so desperately yearned to partake upon. It was only the familiar sound of a gentle knocking upon her door which roused her back into the world, a sound she knew all too well as her mothers.

By the gods, why must ye intrude now? Sakura thought darkly, caring not for what honeyed words her mother twas assured to speak. Resigned to her certain fate, she banished such thoughts from her mind in haste, bidding her mothers entry to her sanctum.

"Fair morn to you m'dear." The elder Lady Aiestrella smiled softly, clad in simple white silken robes trimmed in gold, clinging ever so precariously here and there from her shoulders. Her hair, now silver with Mystra's divine power, hung forth as a cloak from her head, long and radiant in the morning sunlight, and her cherry red eyes glistened as rubies aflame at dawn. She beamed of power and grace, a woman high in the service of the mother of all magic, yet humble as the child she once was.

"Morning mother." Sakura replied back rather nonchalantly. For all her mother's beauty and radiance, she wished not her presence at all. They had again spoken in length the eve before about Sakura's desire to become an adventurer. As so many times before, her mother had once again denied her. In anger at her mother's continued dissent, Sakura's temper came to bear, spurning forth fierce words toward her mother, words she now regretted deeply.

"Have you come to admonish me once more?" Sakura asked, her voice cool with dripping anger.

"No." Her mother replied quietly, her voice quiet and serene. Such was always her mother's way, always kind even in the face of blackest scorn. "Twas I who have come to apologize to you"

"Mother..." she sighed deeply, resigned to her actions of the night before. "You need not, twas I who lost my temper. I was the one who was the fool. Not you." Crestfallen, she stepped away from the balcony, sitting herself upon the edge of a lavish poster bed, drawing forth a woolen blanket to shield her from the morning chill. "I shouldn't have let myself become angered as easily as I did. Tis stupid of me that I did so."

"For once ye speak truth." She paused briefly, letting her words cling upon her daughter's thoughts. "...but, I to had hand in thy anger m'dear. Such words I do regret even now, and I pray now ye'll forgive my forthrightness."

"Please." Sakura pleaded, "May we not dwell on this matter longer? I know well enough your answer on the matter."

Lady Cheryl sad alongside her beautiful daughter, laying a gentle hand upon her shoulder. "My dearest, I only do so for I worry gravely for your well-being." The emissary looked down, "Long ago, I too was much like yourself. Yearning to experience the world about me, to taste the sweet nectar of heroism on my lips. Yet for as fine a vintage it was, twas was often times as much a bitter poison, one which rotted away slowly at my very heart and soul. Adventuring is much like that, exciting as tis may be, it can much as well destroy a person."

"Is that why you so scorn me wishing to become one? For fear of losing myself?" She asked of her mother.

"Aye." Lady Cheryl looked down, her face quiet and solemn with sadness, "Though I know well and true your heart seeks such, such I too even now admire. But I know also well the pain of losing those we care deeply for. To lose you to such madness, I can nae bear such heartache again."

Sakura sighed gently, embracing her mother close, fighting off the urging to shed tears. To see her beloved mother in such anguish, despite their past disagreements, it was too much for her sentimental heart to bear. "Mother, I pray forgiveness."

Cheryl's response was a heartfelt squeeze, forcing forth the breath from Sakura's lungs. For a woman of even Lady Cheryl's petite statue, she was unnaturally strong, such was the might of her Art, especially when showing forth her affections. Twas a blessing of divine power Sakura so wished to learn. "Ahh! Mother must you?"

The emissary blushed forth in embarrassment, chuckling playfully at her daughter's discomfort. Sakura though could only smile through her trickling tears, mother had the most uncanny knack of bringing a grin to the face of any soul despite their myriad troubles.

"You need remember your own strength." She grinned back, snorting away to clear her anguished wracked sinuses.

"Aye, sorry dear." Lady Cheryl smiled back, content with the calming effect it had upon her joyous daughter. "Might I pray ask what ye have planned this day?" She asked of her daughter.

"I've thought little of it, perhaps a visit to the playhouse will clear my head. If ye of course shall allow me so? I hear they are in practice for their new production. Perhaps Madam Brunhilde will allow me to watch."

Sakura beamed with swelling pride, for if there was but one relief from the confines of her cage, it was amongst the bards of the Ravens Bluff Playhouse. A place that had long stoked her fires of imagination since she was but a wee lass. Such had long served as her refuge from the outside world, and were it not for the coursing power of Art that flowed through her soul, she had once fancied herself a bard. A dancer amongst serene moonlight like many a fantastic bard's tale. She had even taken up the art of dance on the side, taking various lessons from those who would show her the fine movements. Such her mother well and truly approved.

"Of course dear." Lady Cheryl smiled, knowing well her desires. "I trust ye will be well?"

Sakura gestured blissfully. "I will, and I thank ye. And what of yourself?"

"Tis one council after another I fear. Formalities mostly I fear amongst the nobility." Lady Cheryl sighed softly. "Even this very morn I received writ of assembly from the Lord Chancellor himself. Something well to do with the unification I'd imagine."

"The Lord Chancellor, you mean Master Starmantle?" Sakura inquired.

"Aye, ye've the right of it. Tis curious, I find it most peculiar that he would request my personal council this day. Such has never been his way in the past."

Sakura was poised to ask as to Lord Starmantle's possible motives, but wisely refrained. One thing she had learned early and well as a worker of the Art, twas never wise to question a wizard's motives, especially one who held high office amongst the elite of Ravens Bluff. And even amongst such hallowed ground, one was never too careful lest some foe desire vengeance, or run afoul of seeking magics. Such was a easy way to a destructive end indeed.

"Well, I'd be best moving along if I'm to make the morning rehearsals. Pray thee well this morning." She smiled, gently kissing Lady Cheryl on the cheek in affection.

"And you as well m'dear. Mystra watch over ye." Cheryl smiled, giving her daughter a playful ruffle of her hair, one which gave Sakura a queasy look of embarrassment once more to her face. Such was her mother's way to place a rightful smile upon her daughter's face.

Twas shortly past nine bells in the City of Adventurers, and Sakura made her way over to the great theater of the Ravens Bluff Playhouse, the vaunted halls of the Bard's Guild. Though closed to the public that day for rehearsals, Sakura was known and well liked amongst the troupe, allowing the young sorceress free passage within. Within the grand theater, bare save for only a couple ragged children sweeping debris for a few coppers, she sat quietly upon a rugged bench near the performance. Upon stage, the bards were afoot, practicing many-a-line from their newest masterpiece, a cockeyed retelling of the war against Myrkessa Jelan. Twas a farcical spectacle of grand satire, with appearances from a assemblage of vivid dramatis personae, many based in comedic parody off the grand adventurers of old. Though true in spirit to the tales of the war, twas many a'jest and jape entwined within.

Sakura watched the proceedings with joyful glee, enjoying the spectacle of whimsical jokes and crude humors, of bumbling heroes fumbling and prat-falling over themselves, and fantastically illusions of fearsome foes brought to life through masterful working of the Art. She watched the rehearsal with the awe and wonder of a child shown a kingdom of sweets & sugar-bread. Though far from perfection, the show was a grand spectacle to behold.

At high-sun, the performers broke for their afternoon lunch, whence Sakura trotted backstage. There amongst the dusty back-halls of the theater, she made her way to the wardrobe room. Countless dozens of whimsical outfits of ever make, color, and creed lined the walls and racks within, with scarce room to move about. Everything from suits of mail and faux full-plate, to gowns rivaling the richest noble garb, to the even more outlandish (and at times quite risque Sakura shuttered to think).

Here amongst all these flights of fantasy, laired an old matron of the theater, one whom Sakura had long befriended as a child many winters ago, the elderly Brunhilde Erikksonn. A behemoth of a woman with a motherly twinkle upon her eyes, her children twas the many younglings who called the Bard's Guild home. At well over seventy winters, the elder Brunhilde still found great vitality, even amongst her ample frame & graying hair.

"Madam Hilde!" Sakura exclaimed, as she waving to the grand matron of props and costumes. "How fair ye this day?"

"Well, bless me little heart, if it isn't Lady Sakura!" The mammoth woman exclaimed. Before the young magician could react, Brunhilde had already placed her in a most affectionate bear hug. Brunhilde took measure of the young woman in her arms, remembering long and well the playful child Sakura was many a winter ago. "Oh my how you've grown into a fine young lass of late. How have you been?"

"Well enough. I thought I would watch the rehearsals today. I must say I'm quite impressed by what I've seen so far." She grinned back.

"Aye indeed. I'm sure even now Beatrice is reworking the script even as we speak. I suppose I could ask her to write a role in for you should you want dearie?"

Sakura tittered, "I'm quite flattered, but acting has never been my calling..."

"Oh nonsense dearie, you'd be a natural at it!" The robust matron interceded with an affectionate pinch of the cheek. "Ye have a great deal of talent in you lass. You just need a way to let it come forth."

"Aye... I know all too well." Sakura replied.

"So what brings ye to my little parlor this day?" Brunhilde asked of the young Lady Aiestrella as she worked upon sewing up a torn leather tunic. "Do tell dear."

Sakura languished in thought, "Only boredom and want I suppose."

"Ohh dearie, such are a dreaded pair indeed. Now tell me, what pains ye dear?"

Sakura replied, flipped through the various outfits hanging from a wooden rack, fantasizing herself garbed in majestic royal nightgowns, and whimsical dancing garb. "Miss Hilde, may I ask something of you?"

"By all means." Brunhilde smiled, admiring the young lady's enthusiasm. "And please, do try a few on. I'm sure there's a couple there that would fit you well enough, if ye feeling a little adventurous that is."

Sakura looked to Madam Brunhilde in surprise, astonished at her ability to divine the truth of a matter. "Well, You ever thought that at times someone was holding you back from a dream you wished to pursue?" Sakura asked of Madam Brunhilde as she spied forth a splendid dress, "...Something you felt was right and just?"

Brunhilde looked to the young Lady Aiestrella. "Aye, all the time. And ye'd be well and good to chase your aspirations I'd say! Tis as natural as a child chasing a butterfly in the wind." She reached over the slender fame of Sakura, pulling forth a stack of costumes from the rack to mend. "After all, none of us are getting older now that's for sure. Oh, do I remember well when I was your age."

Sakura looked to Brunhilde, curious to know her truths as she quietly stepped behind a curtain into a small changing room. "So what happened?"

"Aye, long ago I too was young. A lass much as yourself, and a famed singer to boot. Oh I have many admirers back in those days, young nobles swooning over me wherever I turned, trampling head over foot to win my hand. I had many a chance to settle down and enjoy the high and noble life. Yet, I'd well admit, I enjoyed the show beyond all else. In the end, I chose to stay here with the fellowship of bards, because this is where I belonged. And were I to relieve my life once more I would have asked it no other way. Twas my dream all along, one I followed with a passion." Brunhilde smiled gently, her red-cheeked face aglow in joyous remembrance.

"I see." Sakura said softly, thinking profoundly upon Madam Brunhilde's words, as she slipped her slender frame out from her own simple dress, into a beautiful gown. "So you followed your own path heedless of what others thought you should do?"

"Aye, and to my dying breath shalt I regret it not. Oh yes, I could well have had everything I wanted. Fame, fortune, status. Yet, all along, I knew deep down that this is where I belonged." Brunhilde beamed forth. "Oh Sakura dearie, you wouldn't be thinking of considering joining us here would you? Twas if there were any place for you, we'd be honored for you amongst us."

"I wish well I could. Perhaps one day I may well seek that path." Sakura shook her head softly as she looked upon herself in the mirror in that cramped dressing room. She was clad now in a beautiful cross strapped dress of Calshite silk and feathery gauze, one that tapered off into the prismal hues of a majestic sunrise. Twas slightly big upon her, yet twas so light and brilliant upon her slender frame. "Tis adventure I dare seek. Such which my mother steadfastly refuses to let me follow."

"Your mother... ah you mean Lady Cheryl?" Brunhilde shook her head. "I'm well amazed ye haven't sought to leave her side. No offense to your mother now, she's done well and good for us all. But were I her, I would be raring to let you run free. Ye've all the talent and heart in the world, and yet she still doesn't let you even try."

Sakura stepped out from behind the partition, much to Madam Brunhilde's grand approval. "Ye think I should seek out the path then?" She asked again.

"Oh dearie, ye look..." Madam Hilde caught her breath, looking over how radiant the lovely young Sakura looked so garbed. "Anyways, and I'd well be honest with you, do so with all yer heart dear lassie. Ye've your own path to follow, and only you can walk so."

"If only I could make my mother understand that." Sakura murmured to herself quietly.

"And in time she'll come to understand that lass. Just, one piece of good advice if I may. Go not alone on such grand expeditions, it's no fun at all if you win glory and nobody is around to sing of your tales, let alone a path to a quick grave. If I were you, I'd band up with a few folk like yourself. Tis the City of Ravens ye live in, and she births heroes anew by the day. I'm sure someone like yourself could find a few kindred spirits amongst the new blood." Brunhilde was practically beaming at this point, as she took a string of fine rope across her waist, measuring her. "A fine heroine ye'll make one day my dearie."

"You really believe so?" The sorceress replied back.

"Of that there's no doubt, gods willing." Brunhilde grinned upon the young lady. "Now, no more talk about this, let's see bout making this wondrous thing it a bit more to your liking. I know a wee little lass who's a natural at clothcraft and this sort of work is right down her ally."

If only she would understand...

City hall abounded with frenzied activity, politicians and nobles alike locked in heated debate since early dawn. Such was normal for a bustling city of over 40,000 souls. Yet upon this high-sun, they haggled not over trivial matters of governance, but rather the future of the Living City and the Vast beyond. Long had it been the dream of many to unite the grand cities of the Vast together under a single flag. Only in recent winters past had such visions finally begun to take root.

There were those who saw great benefit to such a bold alliance, a mutual defense against foes both within and beyond, mainly threats from the bastard city-states of the Moonsea, the pirate isles, and even suspected influence of the Shadovar upon wealthy Sembia. With such also stood the prospect of open trade amongst the land, a stance held amongst the administration of the City of Adventurers as being "beneficial to the good of all".

Yet, certain of the nobility, those long and deep in the wealth that Ravens Bluff long drowned upon them in coin and gem, they saw such alliance a threat to their own personal power. An affront to the wealth and prestige they so wielded as a sword to flesh. Those of wealth and prestige gazed such an alliance as a fools delusion, concocted in madness, a naked ploy to strip the nobility of their rightful place.

Such trite was nae the place for the likes of Lady Cheryl. Though honored amongst the city and her people as her eminence was, she had steered far clear of such political machinations, preferring more subtle maneuvers. In her heart, she well supported the proposal of unification, though she wisely kept such thoughts amongst her own. Many would well suspect such open involvement as the church of Mystra manipulating the governance of the city, a poor state of affairs Lady Aiestrella was well wise to avoid.

Yet, here she stood, a calm within the storm of heated debate, invited at the behest of the Lord Chancellor of Ravens Bluff, Lord Algalon Starmantle. Appointed to the post only three winters ago, he was a giant of a man, standing forth a full head taller than most folk. His powerful frame and well-groomed physique betrayed a man of great strength. Yet for his powerful physique, twas he that possessed of the keenest intellects the Living City had witnessed in a generation. A master of Art & war alike, he was a scion of righteousness honored time and tide again.

He had come to fame during the war, a commanding presence in countless clashes. The unleashed might of his Art won many a campaign for the city in it's darkest days, and for such he had been honored countless times over. In time, he earned the coveted honor of Raven Knight, the highest order of knighthood held within the city, and with such came a place amongst the council of lords. Even to this day, he had served well as high council to the Lord Mayor and the civic government, a voice of logic and reason in the oft-turbulent sea of chaos.

The meeting chamber at city hall was packed to the brim, an arid room drenched in the putrid stench of tobacco and oily sweat of a good thirty-odd men. Such was not the place Lady Cheryl wished herself to be, yet here had she come, at the behest of Lord Starmantle himself. The council of lords were deliberating, quite voraciously, the defense of the sea lanes for the newly proposed alliance. At hand was a heated proposal to hand over control of the dauntless naval militia under the Tantran banner. The Ravens Bluff Naval Militia (or RBNM as twas more commonplace known) was a proud organization, one which even Lady Cheryl herself served proudly at wartime as a captain. Though the Living City's neighbor to the north was regarded the superior navy of the Dragon Reach. Such thought of handing forth cart-blanch authority of their proud order sat most queerly with the veterans of the militia.

And now it's fate was to be left to the whims of greasy nobles and hot-tempered politicians. As temperaments began to boil over, threatening to send heated debate into a firestorm of accusations, the loud rapping of a iron-shod staff shook the room, sending all to silence. Lord Starmantle demanded the floor, and within this high chamber of office, his word was law absolute.

"Gentlemen..." His deep voice commanded for order, a sudden wave of silence engulfed the chamber. "I trust that we, in the due fullness of time, that we find common ground on this matter. Such is only one of many such trials we face. However I will not allow this assemblage to squabble over petty politics. You are men of civility, and I expect you all to conduct yourselves as such!" The voice of a righteous man rose forth, as the Lord Chancellor glared hard upon the assembled mass, his gaze foreboding the dooms he could well cast down upon all.

"Now, as to the issue at hand. I am well aware of the abilities and unique skills that our ships and crews bring, yet long have we been but a loose coalition fighting for a greater cause. To allow our sea-born neighbors to bring their grand navy's to the fold requires that we work together, and such requires a single unified flag."

He paused for a moment, waiting for one to speak forth. Yet none stood forth to meet his challenge. "Even at this moment our militia strikes forth once more at the heart of our enemies, the pirate scum whom have terrorized our sea lanes for far too many winters. Yet now you debate their fate without so much their very council. That you would dare such is a dishonor to those whom have served and died to protect this city."

"Then why does none come forth to their defense?" A single noble, fat and bloated in both girth and greed spattered forth. "Surely you would lead us to believe that none remain this day that bears right to speak on their behalf."

"None such are present at this time. Tis why I have asked one whom has long served the naval militia in times past to speak on their behalf." Lord Starmantle looked forth to the emissary, beckoning her forth to address the assemblage.

All within turned to Lady Cheryl, the Lord Mage's ploy now laid bare before her, a masterstroke it was she thought. The emissary was long proud of her service amongst the RBNM, as she had commanded one of their fine ships to victory countless time and tide before. She grinned softly at Lord Starmantle's brilliance, and stepped forward. Hushed whispers raced madly across the hall. The emissary stepped forward, clearing her throat.

"Gentlemen, fellow lords and ladies, honored guests. Though long retired have I been from such active duty, I believe I speak on behalf of all whom have served our beloved Ravens Bluff on the open seas. I know full well this clarion call, a summons to service and duty. Such did I, like many others answered with open arms and heart. I'm sure you well remember the war that besieged our beloved city all those many years ago, one that was well and truly begun by the sacking of our very harbor. This City of Ravens has long been a city born and raised of the sea, and in those early days of the war, those seas turned red with blood, our blood. Bereft of her defense by sea, we were ripe for conquest. And were it not for the likes of vaunted heroes, such as Admiral Blackmantle, Captain Glumthrag, Lady Dawnbringer, and countless others, we who stepped into the breach with not but dauntless courage. We held forth the line in the wave in those darkest of days."

"Yet your words admit that this militia was, and is now, little more than disorganized privateering at best. Men and woman with writ and license to slay and rob, all in name of our beloved city." A disgruntled noble, robed in whine velvet and furs shouted from the back of the room, much to Lady Cheryl's displeasure.

"Ye'd dare speak of us as no more than mere pirates?" Though her voice betrayed it not, there was cold fury in her eyes. "No better than sea-born swine whom dare pillage, rape and murder? Remember ye not the scourge of piracy that plagued our seas when the city was young, or the ravages of Blackmanta upon good people?" Her gaze fixed hard upon the bastard nobleman who dared such treason upon the militia's good name. A steel gaze of priestly doom shared by all.

As well expected, the good sir stood agape, his words falling only upon silence and deaf ears.

"Now, if I may well be allowed to continue." The emissary intoned, composing herself. "I dare not deny that we at times had to rely upon our own unique talents. In a city such as ours, tis would be unwise for us not to consider such a potent asset. Regardless, the results of which have been made well clear. Tis been nay a major strike upon our waters in near a score of winters. The sea lanes bare safe for law-abiding folk, free from pirate predations. Is that not what we are meant to do, to keep the city safe from all enemies both foreign and domestic?"

The room fell silent, baring a few hushed whispers. "Now we stand here, speaking of alliance with our brothers and sisters to the north. A grand undertaking to say the least, and one I hope and pray unto our Mother of all Magic will bear to fruition. I know well the wisdom of uniting our naval forces, but I ask of you good men and ladies like. Tarnish not the fine name of our militia, nor sully the names of those whom have given their lives in defense of our fine city." With that, she stepped aside, and waited.

The room burst open into open applause from the assembled mass. A long moment of thunderous clapping & hollering echoed mightily across the chamber, bringing a smile to the emissary's face. After a few minutes, Lord Starmantle called the assemblage once more for order.

"Well said, and with such we shall adjourn this council for the evening. I trust you will ponder well the emissary's wisdom, and ye all have my thanks for coming." At Lord Starmantle's command, the throng of nobility and politicians departed the chamber, leaving but a few stragglers remaining. Lady Cheryl stood there in a quiet corner of the room, contemplating in silence. The Lord Mage strode forth to her as the last of the noblemen exited the hall.

"My thanks to you m'lady." He spoke, his voice a deep husky baritone.

Lady Cheryl looked into his steel eyes, smiling softly. She would well have right to be furious at the Lord Mage, but not a hint of such discontent came to her expression. "Aye, but ye know well I steer well clear of such political gatherings for good reason."

"My apologies, I had hoped giving them such a perspective as thy own would at least give them proper council. Given the circumstances, I knew not of another who would speak thus so. I pray forgiveness if I have offended."

"No, not in the least, ye've the right of it as always." She smiled gently, "I trust you are well?"

"As well as one can be so enthralled by such acrid negotiations."

"I can only imagine such. Any progress so far?" Lady Cheryl inquired.

"Nay I fear. The Clerical Circle and Merchants Council are on board so far, as our counterparts from Tantras and Calaunt. Yet to convince all the smaller towns throughout the realm of such, especially our own council of lords. Tis a test even of my vaunted patience."

"Such many have worked towards for a lifetime." Lady Cheryl smiled gently, offering her arm to the lord mage, "Perhaps then some fresh air would do thy patience well?"

"Aye, my thoughts exactly." Lord Starmantle nodded, taking forth her offered hand. "Dinner then?"

Lady Cheryl nodded, at least the fine cuisine of the Golden Griffon would well put her mind at ease. Twas a chance to speak for them to speak freely, free from the bonds that duty long shackled them both with. Such was a pleasure Lady Cheryl had not partaken for quite a long time.

Far too long...

2

Reason is a choice. Wishes and whims are not facts, nor are they a means to discovering them. Reason is our only way of grasping reality; it is our basic tool of survival. We are free to evade the effort of thinking, to reject reason, but we are not free to avoid the penalty of the abyss we refuse to see.

Lord Algalon Starmantle, Knight of the Raven

The afternoon sun was slowly sinking on the western horizon, consumed in shimmering glory upon the waters of the Dragon Reach, azure blue skies giving way to the rose tinted brilliance of sunset. Sakura had spent much the day in Brunhilde's joyful company over at the Gilded Gowns Dress Shoppe, a small storefront over in the temple district a few score paces away from the Halls of Mystery. Know by only a select clientele, the shop was known as a fine purveyor of garb to the rich and prosperous, a place where Madam Hilde came quite often when a costume needed that fine touch.

Inside the shoppe twas it's owner and master artisan, a wee lass of a halfling known as Lalaya Riversong. She was a tiny wisp of a girl, even amongst her her own kindred, barley standing halfway to Sakura's chest. Her long golden-blonde locks of hair entwined in dueling intricately braids. She wore fashionable, yet functional loose robes in rich earthly tones. Despite her slight stature, Lalayla quickly proved herself a tailor of unsurpassed skill with a fiery passion for her trade, a talent she supplanted with a even deeper passion for the Art. They had spent the day having Sakura ever so precisely measured, for Madam Brunhilde insisted the younger Lady Aiestrella have something beautiful to wear. Such a masterpiece would take time indeed, but Layla's talent for clothcraft was undeniable.

After five bells past highsun, the trio then stopped off at the Paupered Pastries, a small little dingy of a shop known throughout town for it's sinfully delicious deserts. Such was a favorite of little Lalayla, who was quite addicted to the shoppes sweet cream puffs, a light, fluffy pastry filled with rich vanilla cream. All of which was a treat from Madam Brunhilde. Twas her way to treat those with aching hearts to the finest the city had to offer. It mattered not if they were of common stock or high upbringing, everyone deserved happiness in one form or another.

The three munched away most happily on their desserts, sitting on the curbside watching the day pass away. Lalalya spoke at long length of how she had come to the city. The youngest child of the Riversong clan, and the only girl amongst four boys, all with a considerable talent for the Art. Though oft teased as the youngest lass of the clan, Lalayla's genius was far superior to those of her male siblings. Twas quite a feat to claim such, especially when such razor-sharp intellect rained down as slashing knives in the family.

They had come to Ravens Bluff in the harsh winter of 1379 DR, when the city found itself buried under pounding blizzards for weeks without end. The Riversongs had originally been bound for the lands of Luruan far to the south. Though trapped amongst snow-bound refugees that hard winter, they found the Living City to their liking. By the following spring, they had settled into a lavish apartment a mere few steps from the High Halls of Mystery, the city's venerable temple of Mystra.

"So..." Lalaya began to ask of Sakura, her voice strong tinged with a country accent, "I hear your one of those sorcerer folk, ones that can conjure Art by force of will alone."

"You can tell?" Sakura looked to the little seamstress in surprise.

"Aye, a good wizard can tell. Must be nice indeed not having to spend weeks on end pouring over old dusty tomes." Lalalya asked, jealous of her talents.

"I suppose I've not the patience for them. Mystra only knows how much mother would wish I would spend time buried amongst them."

Lalayla laughed haughtily, a roaring cacophony heaving forth from the halfling's chest. "Dearie, I was reading tomes of ancient Netheril long before I could even walk. Trust me when I say this, having power at your beck and call is one thing, but knowing full well what ye'll do with it, oh such takes wits indeed!"

Madam Hilde was content to watch the two hark back and forth on the matter of all things Art. Twas quite the spectacle, seeing the two match wits. On one hand was Sakura, bright eyed and filled with hope and dreams, her talent powerful yet newborn. On the other Lalayla, an experienced, down-to-earth halfling wizard with an intellect honed to razor perfection, and a an ego bigger than the great wyrms of legend and lore. Brunhilde simply sat back and grinned, watching the day wax away as the two mistresses of Art laughed and jested together upon one another.

As the evening sun sat upon the Living City, Sakura bid farewell to her dear friends. A fire had been lit deep within her, a renewed confidence flared back to roaring life through the words of her friends. She started her way back along the streets to home at the Halls of Sevenspire. She first though had to fulfill her own needs, and a growling deep within her guts. Twas such a place along her route back home which would well settle her fill.

The Whispering Mermaid, a quaint little tavern known for it's fine grilled seafood, caught daily from the frigid waters of the Dragon Reach, and the comely lasses adorned in costumes inspired by the depths. Twas no Sharky's the young lady thought, but thence again one need not magics of water breathing to visit that place. For her, twas a place Sakura and her mother had spent many a quiet eve, spirited away from the hustle and bustle of the city proper.

Sakura walked into the Whispering Mermaid, which bared mostly quiet that evening, with only a couple patrons scattered about, tended to by comely waitresses. Amongst them twas a band of hardened men gathered at a grand table. Adventurers she thought to herself. They were loud, and boisterous, and to Sakura's distaste quite intoxicated. One such twas a hulking mass of a man, easily the size of an ogre she thought, garbed in ill-fitting garb for his gargantuan frame. Stink permeated the air around him, and drippings of barely chewed food drenched his chest. Twas a sight most sickening to the young lass, but she determined to pay it not it's heed.

The waitress took to Sakura's table in a quite corner of the tavern, apologizing profusely for the disturbance such braggart ruffians were causing. Such matters paid the young sorceress little concern, her first mistake. She ordered an old favorite, a grilled catfish served over steamed cabbage with a tangy berry sauce. Sitting there in comfortable silence, sipping forth a tasteful white wine, Sakura mulled over in her mind the wisdom parted upon her. Her mind was well and truly made up, she would seek out her destiny regardless of her mother's blessings in this endeavor. Such she prayed in her heart to blessed Mystra that mother would finally understand she was well and ready for the task. To ease her mother's mind and heart, she would propose to seek forth heroes like herself. Young, vibrant heroes willing to work together toward a common goal, and risk all for the good of the city.

Half-a-bell passed before her dinner came to the table, plenty time enough to think her plan through. Before she could reach for her desired meal, her peaceful silence was quickly plowed asunder as the braggart ogre of a man loafed forth toward her, his breath heavy with the stench of bad slake and dark consciousness. Twas obvious to Sakura he was not of his wits as he lurched forward, thinking Sakura another pretty face in the establishment.

"Oi, and whom might ye be." He grinned, balancing himself on the table to hold himself steadfast. His stink was atrocious, and twas only by Mystra's grace her constitution held firm.

"My own business. To which I ask ye leave me to such." She replied back.

The man lurched forward, swaying from his own drunkenness. "And what be your business lady. After all, a good lady like yer self would nae come here less she be looking for some fun..." He was pressing himself up against the table now, uncomfortably close for Sakura's taste, his words a drunken slur.

"Good sir, I think it best you leave." Sakura asked of the man calmly. From it's hidden place at her belt, Sakura felt for the hilt of a small knife she carried, a last resort should things go badly. "I hope nae to ask again."

"...come on, your rather pretty." He snorted out, spit flying free of his gaping maw from every word he dared speak. "Why you want not a mighty adventuring man like myself." He lurched forward again, blocking the table with his girth, trapping Sakura at the back of the booth.

"I have nae a quarrel with you, but I've not ANY desire to be with a drunken lout like yourself!" Her loud pleading was cut short as a second man approached, garbed in plate steel sprung from the grand table. Unlike his confederates, he was primed and proper in appearance, with raven black hair and a matching goatee. She gleamed no weapon upon his person, yet a worrisome glance showed a massive axe near where he sat..

Sakura squirmed back, pressing herself against the wall and the booth. Fear tinged up her spine. She could have well escaped one unarmed drunkard, but two presented quite the dire challenge indeed. She was thankful to the goddess that his arms were nae long enough, preventing them from grasping her.

"Now Thendrael, let's be kind to the young miss." The second man placed a hand hard upon the drunkards shoulder. "Tis no way to treat a fine lady." Perhaps cooler heads would well prevail this eve. So Sakura hoped, her second mistake.

"Apologies." The man spoke in a cool tone. "I fear old Drael here's had a few to many this eve. They be weary from the road." He nodded, forcing the drunk warrior back amongst his compatriots. "Xantarex."

"Tis no worries." Sakura relaxed, her third-fold mistake. "And I thank you."

"Now, all pleasantries aside." The warrior spoke, his voice as cold and sharp as the steel he carried. Suddenly, with the swiftness of a snake striking prey, he grasped Sakura's arm fiercely, nae a hint of emotion on his stone face. "I believe you will be coming with us now. After all, we are weary from the road we have long traveled, and I'm sure your most eager and willing."

Her face turned white, sheer fright gripping tight upon her heart at the man's iron grasp. She trembled, fingering the hilt of her dagger, praying in her mind to the gods above that he had nae seen such. In the raven-haired man's steel clutch, she dared not try to cast forth Art upon him.

"Let me go!" She said harshly, but her voice laced with anguish. She was trembling in supernatural fear, her mind ablaze in fire, unable to even scream for help. His confederates swiftly sprung forth, reaching hands grasping nearby swords and cudgels, brandished menacingly in her direction.

Oh gods please let me go, her mind yearned to scream.

"A shame." His tongue dripped with heartless venom. "I had hoped ye would come willingly. I suppose now we shalt teach you your place, little woman." In sheer desperation, Sakura sprung from her seat, kicking and biting, desperate to escape the clutches of this cadre of bandits. She begged mercy from blessed Mystra, praying the Lady of Mysteries would open some means of flight from this place, and these men so intent upon ravaging her. Xantarex yanked her from the bench hard, raw pain seeing through her arm from his macabre grasp.

Twas blessed Mystra, our lady of mysteries so cruel to allow her this fate?

In that instant, as terror gripped fierce upon her neck, twas then that her silent prayers were answered. Mahogany doors swung upon, as a man, slender yet compelling in frame stood in the entry. Clad in a crisp linen shirt beneath studded leather jack, his hand firm upon a silver filigreed pommel. His eyes darted rapidly, first toward the assailants, then to the beautiful damsel in distress.

"I dare trust you were about to leave the nice lady in peace?" He spoke with cocksure bravado, confident in tone and deed. "Would well be a pity to see us come to blows in this fine establishment."

Sakura endeavored mightily against Xantarex's grip, thrashing with all her meager strength to dart free, feeble attempts that the raven-haired bastard all but ignored as he held the sorceress fast. Even with the young ladies frenzied struggles, He gazed to the newcomer with cold-steel eyes. "Indeed a pity it would be. I would dare nae wish to spill such precious blood upon these grounds."

Xantarex backed his words up with a sudden jerk, snapping Sakura forth into his waiting arms. With alarming swiftness, he placed a hidden dagger hard against the girl's throat. Sakura sobbed in raw terror, her heart beating heavy and fast upon her breast.

"Now, you lay forth your blade and knives upon there floor, slowly. And do take care for the one secreted within your boot. Do so now, or she will die." There was no hint of fear in in his voice, no cracking of his tone betraying hesitation or pause, only the cold snarl of hatred and malace. Xantarex was well inclined and able to spill innocent blood.

The young nobleman slowly complied, dropped his silvered rapier to the ground ever so gingerly. His daggers, balanced well for throwing were next, as he placed them in elegant order upon the wooden floor. Finally, he knelt down, loosening the hilt of a small knife from a hidden scabbard upon his boot. Xantarex's gaze never left the boy's sight.

Twas but his only mistake.

For only a brief second, he eased his grasp upon Sakura's throat. By instinctive motion, she stomped down hard upon the raven-haired bastard's foot, hard. Pain shot forth, shooting raw pain up his leg. Twas was all the time Sakura needed to squirm free. She darted to the floor, vaulting herself over a nearby table, toppling forth a patrons feast of lobster and swordfish in her desperate flight. She landed at the stately gentleman's feet, her movements as light and sure as a heaven-bound angel in flight.

The young gentlemen he flanked astride her, snatching up his mastercraft rapier from the ground in a single fluid motion. Twas hardly the time and place for formality, as Xantaerx's confederates surged forward, weapons drawn, raring to slay for the insult visited upon them.

Sakura gasped forth words of power, her hands clasped in the motions of eldritch power. A fine mist coalesced before them, shrouding all within the tavern in albescent mist. With that, the duo fled the Whispering Mermaid, hurling wildly down cobblestone streets, twisting and turning through a maze of back corners and blind allies.

Twas several long moments before the two finally stopped. Sakura gasped for breath, her lungs aflame in pain from their desperate flight. Was a long moment as the two struggled to catch their second wind.

"Be you well my lady?" The young gentleman warrior asked, composing himself.

"Aye, thanks to you." She grimaced. Her heart racing from excitement.

"Good. And well met to ye. You did quite well there." He smiled back, keeping sharp watch upon the ally, lest the brigands trace them back this far.

Sakura took a closer look at her rescuer. He was indeed a dashing young man, perhaps only a couple winters older than herself. His eyes a gentle shade of hazelnut, filled with life and youth. His hair a deep earthen brown, and his hansom face, so gentle yet filled with bountiful confidence. Yet for his boyish charm, he had stood resolute in the face of certain death and lived.

"So. To whom do I have the honor of this rescue?"

"Oliver Alexander Blacktree, squire of the Knights of the Golden Rooster. At your service my lady." He bent to a single knee, taking the young Sakura's hand into his own and kissing it. She smiled, only in tales of daring knights in silvered coats of arms had she read of such prim and proper formality. Perhaps chivalry still survived after all she thought.

"My thanks to ye. But I beg you, for I am no lady of title or status. I require not such formality." Young Lady Aiestrella's face was flush with heat.

"And to whom have I the honor this fine night?" Oliver asked calmly of the sorceress.

"Sakura is my name." She replied back to her protector.

His eyes lit up, "You're the daughter of her eminence, the High Lady Aiestrella?" Again he bowed in supplication to the young lady.

She could only giggle softly at Oliver's fawning, even more so considering the potential danger they yet faced. "Please, you need not bow or anything before me. I'm no more a noble than as a jester in a king's court."

"But my lady, ye are the daughter of a high and beloved lady of our fair city. To show no less would be most dishonorable." Oliver protested. He dared not offend the daughter of the emissary, less his standing amongst his peers be tarnished.

Sakura smiled, beckoning the young squire in training from his knees. She cared little for such formalities as etiquette and protocol, especially if foes could still be seeking their lives. She smiled toward the young master who had so daftly rescued her from her plight. "Fair enough, perhaps though we should seek safety before we come to know one another better, don't ye think?"

"Tis would be my honor m'lady." Oliver nodded, a gentle smile cresting his face.

Xantarex stood darkly at the foot of the Whispering Mermaid, cold furor in his heart. His men had scattered in pursuit of the bitch sorceress and her would be rescuer save but two, the fat oaf Thendrael and a younger slimmer man cowled in gray robes.

"What of your tracing spell mage?" Xantarex nae cast a glance at the worker of Art.

"To the east lord, across the north bridge."

He needed not another word, for his demeanor spoke countless volumes. The boy had taken his prize, and for such he must pay for such an insult with his life. He motioned for his men to hunt the man and his woman down, swift and quiet. The raven-haired man looked down, clenching forth a blackened steel gauntlet matted upon his fist.

Yes oh dread lord, they will know well fear before this night ends.

Selune hung high in the evening sky as the two skittered back to the Halls of Sevenspire. They had taken a serendipitous route back through the northern reaches of the city, crisscrossing various alleyways and busy intersections. Though still wary of possible danger, they thought themselves safe from immediate harm. Oliver and Sakura spoke at length of themselves along their way back to the halls. Their slinking about was less evasion from an unseen foe, and more a moonlight walk of the Living City.

He was the younger nephew of the Lord Mayor, Lord Charles Blacktree. Raised far from the confines of the Vast, he grew up amongst the high courts of Cormyr, far to the west. The second son of his uncle's brother, he was an educated man versed well in history & nobility. He had long heard of the deeds of his legendary uncle, the man whom had boldly led the city in the final days of the war. Oliver had longed to travel one day to the lands of his uncle, daring to rise forth to the greatest of expectations. To such, he had devoted his life to the cause of righteousness, a high and shining example of finest chivalry in this chaotic age.

Oliver came to Ravens Bluff at his uncle's behest over the past winter, as the Shades of lost Netheril began to press hard upon Cormyr. Their he continued his training, and eventually came to be squired within the vaunted Knights of the Golden Rooster. Though considered a lower tier knighthood of the Living City, the Roosters long had a reputation for uncompromising chivalry. Such did the order serve as an important rite of passage for those seeking to achieve greater glory in the name of Ravens Bluff.

So had he served now, for little less than a season as an initiate of the order, determined with all his heart and soul to live up to his uncle's honored name. Indeed he was a young man that Sakura could well relate to, a lad with great expectations hoisted upon his shoulders.

As they reached the Northspan, the two looked up at the evening sky. The stars had just begun to twinkle in the evening twilight. Selune was in full blossom this night high above the Fire River, her tears lighting the heavens with the fiery sparkle of a thousand diamonds. Sakura stopped for a bit, looking up to the celestial beauty above, her hair blowing gently in the evening breeze reflecting the moon maiden's luminescence. She was such a sight to behold bathed in moonlight.

"M'lady?" He asked of his charge. Ever careful not to offend.

"Aye?"

"I must say, and I beg forgiveness should such words offend, but... you are most beautiful."

Sakura blushed in the pale moonlight, for twas the first time a man had so honestly praised her so. No, how can such honest words bring offense, when they had been spoken by the most forthright man she had ever the pleasure to meet. The two locked eyes upon each other for a brief moment, these two whom had so shortly before had dared death.

"Oliver..." Sakura gulped. There were no words, for neither could find the words to express the moment to one another.

With a sudden instinctive motion, he drew forth steel, placing himself protectively at Lady Sakura's side. In the distance, he could make out a band of man, five in all quietly working their way toward them. Their faces all too familiar to the duo. Sakura looked to their assailants, her hands trembling anew in fear.

The confederates had returned.

"Cursed, how did they find us?" Oliver cursed Tymora's luck. His eyes scanned the bridge, and his heart sank as he gazed doom coming from the far end of the bridge. A second group, 3 men strong stood upon the far side. The lecherous fat man, and two thugs clad in leather. He spied crossbows now firmly in hand, loaded and ready to strike them down.

Sakura brought forth another magic from deep within her heart, an orb of silvery-white fire coalesced in her palm. "So where's your friend?" She shouted out to the thugs, now a good ten-score paces away she figured.

Her boast was quickly met with a shout from the eastern reaches of the span, there, concealed by shadow was Xanterx, his formal jerkins now replaced with plate steel. A wickedly curved axe rested in his steel fisted hands, a monolith of cold steel and bladed death.

"Now." The raven-haired warmonger shouted. "You have tried my patience boy, and for such insolence you shalt suffer." Cold fury tainted his tone. "...and suffer you both shall, in the name of the black hand. Submit now, and beg for thy lives, and I shall grant you a swift death."

Oliver pointed his steel rapier hard toward the thuggish brute. "And just shalt you do with us? You lot, nothing more than blast and blather, so cock-full of yourselves. Threatening much, yet all you do is talk and talk. You be little more than brigand scum, fit only for the ball and chains of the Golden Ball."

What is he doing? Sakura thought of her overly brave defender.

"Even now, the watch comes as we speak, and I'd dare say they'll be more than glad they'll be more than glad to lock you away. That is, if I don't finish you first." Oliver shouted back in foolish pride. His free hand beckoning the thugs forth to steel-tipped doom. "You good sirs will lay not a finger upon my charge. I warn ye for the last, leave now or your lives shalt be forfeit.

Sakura whispered to Oliver, astonished, "I hope ye know what you're doing."

"I'd much prefer Tymora's luck right about now, but we'll take whatever comes to hand." He quietly replied.

Xantaerx uttered but one word to his men, slamming the heft of his great axe to the street. "Slay." His command brought a furious charge from the four before him. They rushed forth, blades bared naked in the moonlight, eager to draw forth virgin blood.

Yet it would be the young squire of the Golden Roosters whom would strike first. From his back, cleverly hidden behind his cloak, he pulled forth a slender throwing knife. Leveling it square at the first assailant, he let his seeking blade, striking the lead man square in the chest, piercing the coat of scale armor he wore and tearing into his black heart. He crumpled to the ground, red crimson spurting free from his critical wound.

Sakura knew well what she had to do, though she loathed the thought greatly. She loathed such naked violence, yet now here she was, fighting for her very life, trusting her fate a second time to a man whom scarce a bell ago had saved her life. She muttered a silent prayer of forgiveness to the Lady of Mysteries, and unleashed her orb. Silver flames screamed through the night, as the eldritch magic struck home, setting a rouge in rugged leather alight.

"Ware, more come!" She yelled to Oliver in haste, spying the rear guard approaching them. Amongst them, the fat drunkard whom now wielded a steel-braced crossbow of his own, far larger than the small hand bolter Oliver had fired in surprise. With a ghastly whisper, the trio launched their bolts. One met only the ground at Sakura's feet, missing by the narrowest of margins. A second grazed Oliver's cheek, leaving a fine trail of crimson upon his face. The last though, fired from the fat man himself, found it's mark in the young lady's shoulder.

Sakura screamed, a banshee wail that pieced the heavens. Raw pain shot through every vein as she slumped to her knees. Her chest heaved, her heart grew heavy with searing pain, agony as never she had felt before. By the gods, twas this to be her end?

The world was silent, her beating heart drowning down the wild echoes of battle. All was fading to darkness, yet there was still a vestige of feeble life left in her. She saw things in slow-motion, as the three men lunged forth toward Oliver, blades swinging in blood rage. She remembered her mother's council, warning of such dangers, and her unwillingness to step away from the precipice of adventure. Aye, she knew well in that instant Lady Cheryl's words, "...adventure is the cruelest lord of men all." So now she cried out for her mother's comfort.

Through Tymora's luck, Oliver had scarce managed to evade a number of fatal blows as the confederates slashed at him, yet still he was being peppered with little wounds here and there. Undaunted, he swept his blade in a sweeping arc, catching one man hard on the jugular. Blood shot free from the brigand's ruptured neck, any plee for mercy drowned in gargled blood, spraying all in his dying throes.

Oliver knew well he could nae take scarce much more, and the fat man and his cronies were near ready to shoot once again. Kicking the scorched man aside, he grasped Sakura's limp body up off the ground, dashing with all his remaining strength for the side of the bridge. In her barely coherent state, she could make out only two words from the noble swordsman.

"Trust me."

In that instant, Oliver heaved them both with one daring leap, into the black darkness of the Fire River, Sakura tight in his arms.

Their world turned to darkest night.

She could feel nothing but an icy chill upon her heart. Sakura gasped for breath, but found not such comfort. She was going to die her, in the arms of her would-be rescuer deep in a watery grave. Darkness took her, and all went to black.

Some distance down river, Oliver pulled Sakura's unconscious body ashore upon the muddy banks of Ladyrock, a rocky crag of a neighborhood set square in the midst of the river. She was truly a mess, her dress little more now than mud-spattered rags caked in blood. She was badly wounded, and the young man feared she had nay survived the fall. Ignoring the pain of his own bleeding wounds, he fumbled through one of his pouches, seeking one item which could save the young lady from death's door.

Without hesitation, he pulled a mud-caked vial from his pack, a tube of clear blue liquid which he fast poured down Sakura's throat. He held her hand tight, seeking some sign of life.

There... the subtle throbbing of her heart, he felt it upon her wrist. By the grace of the gods above she had survived. He sobbed into her chest, thankful to whomever divine power had given her life anew.

Hours past, and the two laid there in the mud. By the grace of holy Mystra, Sakura came too, Raw tears coursed her cheeks. She was delirious from the pain, yet though all she managed still a small smile upon her face. Oliver had saved her from a gruesome fate, and he had stayed at her side through all, risking life and death in her defense.

"...thank you." She said weakly. "You've... given me quite the night to remember." She grimaced, mostly from the pain coursing through her veins.

"Speak not my lady." He asked of his charge, cradling her trembling body in his arms. Remembering well where he had placed his spare potion, he pulled forth a second metal vial from his pocket.

"Drink now." He pulled the stopper from the vial, and trickled the bluish liquid down her throat. It was a most unpleasant flavor of mint mixed with a tinge of iron. Minutes past, and with time Sakura could feel the hurts begin to wash away.

"A healing potion. Tis not much, but it should be enough till we can find you aid." Oliver replied.

"My thanks..." She smiled weakly, falling back into the black abyss of sleep.

Oliver nodded, and smiled, letting the younger Lady Aiestrella slip into slumber. He would insure her well-being to the very end, for that was his duty. Such he had accepted without a second thought, or want or need of reward. He was well willing to give his very life in her defense.

The next morning came, and Sakura awoke to find herself in the comfort of her own bedchamber, safe in the Halls of Sevenspire. Lady Cheryl sat at her left, tending to her wounds. To her right, asleep in a plush lavender chair was her protector, the young squire Oliver.

"He insisted on staying till you were well." Sakura's mother quietly spoke, placing a cold towel upon her head.

"Mother..." she looked to Lady Cheryl, fresh tears welling in her eyes. "I'm so sorry. Oh gods I'm so sorry..."

"Dear, let it not trouble you. Young Master Oliver told me all. What he did for you was beyond reproach. For that he has my gratitude, and my trust." She smiled gently, wiping the tears ever so softly from Sakura's brow.

"What mean you?" Sakura asked.

"It means my dear you are well now ready. You know now what it is to be an adventurer, and what perils you shalt face. And you know now well what it means to fight for something you believe in." She smiled, dressing the bandages upon her daughter's shoulder. "I'd dare even say you've found yourself an able and willing companion in your travels." She looked to the slumbering Oliver, and smiled joyfully.

Sakura looked to the sun drenched sky of the window beyond her bed. Her emerald green eyes bright with renewed life and quiet vigor. "But why only now, when you have so long denied this dream that I have sought?"

"Because my dear, sometimes adventure is not something we seek, it is what seeks us. How you deal with such is the true test." Lady Cheryl smiled, kissing her daughter gently upon the forehead. "All I ask, and such I have tasked Oliver with. Find others who share your way, find those whom share in your hopes and dreams. Find those who will shoulder laughs, and tears, and moments of adulation and loss in stride. Such are a rare breed indeed, but I trust in you to find such able souls. Find such, and I shalt support all ye in your boldest endeavors."

Sakura grinned, holding her mother close. "Oh mother, thank you..." She broke forth into joyous tears, her wish finally given leave to become reality. It was in that moment the cage that had long been her life was at last opened. She was free now to scrawl her own pages upon the pages of fate.

"Sleep now my dearest child." Lady Cheryl clutched her daughter in her gentle embrace, kissing her tenderly upon the forehead. Much to her own surprise, shared of the same tears of joy as her daughter.

3

"Ah, ye want to be an adventurer do ye lad? Aye, I'm sure ye've heard tales of magnificent riches and glory to be had. Have ye heard the tales of sleeping in the mud, days of riding, vicious monsters, road bandits, and gaping painful wounds. Of course, ye haven't heard those! If everyone heard tell of those stories there'd be a hell of a lot less adventurers."

Lezardan of Cormyr

The day had come and gone, and yet still the young Lady Aiestrella laid slumbrous still, her aspirations dancing amongst vivid hopes & semi-concious thoughts. In the apple of her mind's eye, Sakura imagined the wondrous tales that were yet to come, standing boldly against a thousand-score of unseen foes, her Art high and mighty even amongst impossible odds. She dreamed of ancient treasures of lost Netherill, of majestic artifacts long secreted by mighty wyrms, of gold and gems enough to raise her own realm, amongst stolid friends and ancient powers.

And then there was his face, the man who had so sworn his very life and fate to protect. His gentle touch caressing her in dreams. Though only newly met, she dreamed long and deep of being with him the rest of her days, to grow old and wise at his side. She smiled gently in her sleep, awash in the vision of her forever.

"Sakura..." a soft whisper came, lulling her ever so cautiously from the abyss of sleep.

She blinked her eyes open, letting them adjust to the pale lantern-light of her chambers. Twas early eve from what she could see. At her side Oliver sat, smiling gently down to her, his face so alive with life and hope.

"How fair ye?" He asked.

"Well." She lifted herself gingerly from the bed, her arm still a tad sore, yet she could move it without ill or pain. Her mother's magic, and her loving care had done well. "A little stiff, but, I live thanks to you."

He made a certain face, one that brought a soft chuckle to Sakura's mouth. "Ye've slept most the day. Lady Cheryl insisted upon letting you rest."

"Though..." She looked down, taking well note upon the horrible growling in her empty gullet. Sakura blushed in shame. "I could well use some dinner me thinks."

"I would well think so." Oliver responded back, "Though I think it well we stay here for evening-fry this night. Twould not be nice if we run into another band of thugs wishing ruin upon our dinner."

Sakura laughed with a furious might, well impressed by the young knights whit. "How do ye do so Oliver? To be so bold as to laugh in the face of certain death as ye did last eve?"

"Tis better to face the gods alight in laughter than in solemn disgust me thinks."

Her eyes batted upwards, curious at his response. Before another word could well be spoke, they were staring into one another's eyes anew. He was so beautiful Oliver was, bereft of armor or steel, he wore the look of nobility well upon his brow. Here they stood, love in their minds and hearts, yet twas no words that could well express such devotion to one another.

To soon it twas, far too soon.

Somewhere, secreted beneath a nondescript warehouse deep in the wretched bowels of old Crow's End, Xantaerx stalked. He looked over his minions, cold hatred seething as serpent's venom in his veins. To be humiliated so by a lone sorceress and a minor waif who dared decreed himself a warrior. They would pay, oh yes they shall, his thoughts danced with the countless dooms he would personally visit upon them. The raven-haired warrior demanded blood in honor of the Black Lord, and blood he shalt have.

Soon...

But first upon his platter was another matter, the failing of his minions. Such a simple task they had placed before them, slay a measly pair of children. And yet, they had failed him in such, and for that, the dread lord demanded retribution. Already had the eve cost him three of his confederates.

"Kern, Valkris. Explain thy failure! Two mere whelplings I send you against, and yet you let them escape!" His anger echoed, sending raw fear in the black hearts of his fellow brigands.

"Xan... please lord, twas the boy whom was more skilled than we had picked him so to be. Tis not our failing!" Kern, a ugly haggard of a boy in ill-fitting britches and a well-patched leather jack-coat, barely twenty odd years old. He had come to his master's service as a rouge, seeking quick coin and power over men. Yet now here he was, upon his knees begging mercy from a man known not for such.

Valkris sneered to his right, a black-skin man of dark complexion and even darker motives. Fresh burns scarred his face, suffered in their ill-fated assault. Native to the desert realms of Calimshan, the balding man was known for his brutality, second only to his master. Even in that scorching city of rouges and slavers he was a man wanted & reviled. Murder, treason, rape, many a long chapbook of offenses he had racked upon himself. Such was luck that he stowed away upon a galleon bound for the Moonsea all those years ago.

"You plead now the master's forgiveness?" Valkris swore, his accent thick and deep, making his threats all the more persuasive. "I've killed rabble far more skilled than this. Let us be rid of this dead-weight, and turn to the task at hand."

Xantaerx looked to his dusky-skinned confederate, then to the quivering whelp of a boy. His mind decided, he whirled his axe in a grand cleave, severing young Kern's head from his quaking body.

"Let this be warning to all." He gazed to his murderous band, "Your failings will no longer be tolerated. Bow, and pledge your obedience to Bane; for he, through I, demands it!"

All within obeyed.

"Now." He stated coldly. "What know we of these two?" He glanced over to the fat man, the one they called Thendrael. A bloated mass of a man, his wine velvet garb sized more for an ogre than a human. A butcher by trade, he worked by day in parcels of meat and lamb. By night, her served in another roll, as broker of information to those who wished ill upon the Living City, supplying secretive knowledge for coin aplenty.

"The boy I know not, only that he is new come to the city. As for the girl, I believe her name as Sakura, daughter of her 'holy' eminence," He spat forth the last few words in revilement. "The bitch queen of Sevenspire herself. I can only surmise her well-skilled in Art, though her mastery is yet unknown." Nae would he speak the true name of Lady Aiestrella, lest some seeking magic peer forth into this black sanctum.

"And yet she was well alone, and fearful that night." Thendrael added. "Be this perhaps a leash we can use to master her?"

"It's possible. The boy's appearance reeked of circumstance." Sereth, a minor wizard hailed from Thay in service of the black hand pipped fore. "Though I fear the dooms her mother could well visit upon us all. She could well be our deaths."

"Such is truth, and yet she allows an innocent child to abound on her own." Xan spoke coldly to himself. "We shalt be patient in tracking our quarry. She will make another error well enough, such her inexperience teaches us. And when so, we will be there to strike."

"And just what do we do with her, when she is well in our grasp." Valkris spoke.

"Then..." Xan thought of the many-fold dooms he would visit upon the bitch. "She will submit herself, in mind and body to our lord. She will know well and true the full might of the Black Hand. And only then, when her heart lies broken, when she knows well the true power of the one lord Bane, only then will she die..."

Oh yes, she would die indeed Xantaerx brooded, but not before her corruption was true and complete. He would see her spread upon Bane's iron altar, begging her mercy to the lord of tyranny. He, and his confederates would visit unspeakable horror upon her petite frame. Then, only then, would he allow her death, for in death the bitch child would serve no lord but Bane.

Evening-fry in the Halls of Sevenspire was grand feast that night, shared by all who called the towers home. Roasted lamb and duck, moistened with tangy berry sauce laid delectable upon the grand buffet. Freshly baked honey rolls and the sweet smells of stewing vegetables rose high aloft. Though a casual affair meant well to wind down after a long day in the libraries of the halls, twas a feast meant for grand jubilation.

Sakura sat at one of the of the grand oaken tables astride from her new found companion. Along with them sat Lady Cheryl, regal in her formal robes of azure blue and violet. Flanking her was a woman of fiery crimson hair and ruby-hued eyes sparkling with life. Sakura knew little of her save her given name of Alyss. Oft times she would be seen at the emissary's side, a guardian? Perhaps some secret confidant of the high lady? Mysterious that one was, Sakura thought to herself.

Upon Cheryl's right, sitting in enjoyable silence was Lady De'edrt Dawnbringer, known well and wide as Deed, a wood elf long known and loved throughout the Vast. Lanky blonde hair flowed gracefully from her face, caressing the length of her lithe form. Beneath her plain dressings of earthern greens and brown, Sakura spied mail made of finest platinum, impossibly light and flowing as the finest noble gown.

Sakura blushed, imagining herself such a radiant being. As light as the spring breeze, yet able to cleave forth even steel-skinned dragons with ease. She knew well Deed's tales of adventure, for long had she been her mother's erstwhile companion and blood sister. Fable and legend spoke long of her saga, a elf-child a dance in the shadows of Selune, bringing forth brightest hope anew to the land. She was, much to one's suprise a devout champion of Eilistrae, a drow goddess whom served as a singular beacon of hope amongst such dark creatures. Such did bards laminate of her, every tale most adventurous than the prior.

Yet, amongst those seated within the grand parlor, such grandiose tales of adventure and danger were spoken as truth, for twas the truth of things. Deed had taught the youngling Sakura many such truths as she had grown, indeed her very love for dance had derived from Lady Dawnbringer's tutelage, an art her beloved mother well approved of.

Oh how she yearned to stand forthwith as equal to such legends, a mighty champion of righteousness heralded in poem and song.

"So there we were, in the midst of the grand plaza in Procampur, a dragon raging amongst the townsfolk." Lady Dawnbringer told those amassed at the table. "We knew well and true the carnage it would bring upon the city should it have taken wing."

"So then what happened?" Oliver asked of the high lady.

"Deed, dear sister. Must we speak of this tale again?" The emissary protested, embarrassment seeping red into her face.

"Ahh, but that what makes it so fun." Her elven sister replied with a comely wink. "Now, we knew we could ill afford a dragon in flight over the city. So, Miss Cheryl here, she did something quite unprecedented." She turned to Lady Cheryl with a smile, nudging her to indulge in this fantastic tale.

"Oh come on mother, do tell." Sakura asked, quite interested in how she had handled such a rampaging.

"Well enough then." Cheryl sighed, admitting defeat. "I brought a spell of summons, and... well, I dropped a celestial orca upon the beast." Her face was the deepest shade of crimson.

"You dropped a whale upon the dragon?" Oliver exclaimed, desperate to erupt not into laughter.

"Aye, she did indeed dear lad." Lady Dawnbringer retorted. "Twas quite a spectacular sight to behold I might say, let alone it saved many a folk from certain death. I remember well the knights council commending you for such 'creative' use of the Art."

"True, though such did take much convincing. I would well had been drummed forth from the Keepers were it not for many a good word." Lady Cheryl sighed softly. "Let's just say I begged many a forgiveness from Mystra for that one."

"Oh come now sister dearest, you saved many a life that day through your actions. Even those hard-heads upon the knightly council had to eventually see truth."

Oliver cleared his throat, "But would not the council see such as a reckless usage of Art?"

"Twas the council's initial consideration." Lady Cheryl replied, "But such circumstance left little time to consider consequence. Twould they have found such to disbar me from the order was within their right, and such I would well have accepted. My faith is in the Lady of Mysteries, and to her alone will I one day be called to task." She let forth a small smile. "I only hope that when my time has come that my deeds have well garnered her favor."

"Thankfully," Deed interrupted, "Such dashes of raw stupidity are rare indeed amongst the council, especially in light of the words of many a fellow knight and certain of the lordship of Procampur herself."

"Indeed, and for that tis I who am thankful." Cheryl replied in thanks.

"Still, enough quip about our deeds." Deed turned to the youngling heroes to be. "I hear ye two had quite the adventure just the past eve?"

"Aye, a band of braggarts and thugs. They were well harassing the fine lady in drunken stupor when I chanced upon her."

Sakura blushed, listening to Oliver speak of their wild ride through the city, waxing poetic of their daring escapade, and the narrow escape upon the Northspan. Warrior, scholar, and poet alike, such was a rare breed indeed this fine young man was. Such Sakura thought brightly to herself.

"Aye, danger sought & danger found. Ye did well, both of ye." Deed smiled, beaming forth with pride toward the duo.

"Tis because of Oliver I do yet live." Sakura replied. "Yet, I do admit fear of what they would well have done to me. Especially that one man. Believe his name Xan... Xante something" She thought for a fleeting moment.

"Xantarex." Lady Dawnbringer spoke darkly, finishing the young sorceress's thought. "A Thayvian slaver, recently come to the city. Aye I know of this 'man' you speak. Best ye ware of him dear children, for he is not a foe to be trifled with."

"Ye've had dealings with him?" Sakura asked of Deed.

"Personally, I have nae crossed blades with him, yet... Though amongst the Ravens his name is spoken of in deeds both dark and dastardly. Like many who seek ill to our fair city, he cowers in shadows, fearful of showing his face in daylight." There was a cold, subtle anger in her tone, a seeping hatred of all that dared enslave another man for profit.

Sakura could well read such in her lips, and the heavy burden upon her heart. This bastard spawn of Thay whom had dared place hands upon her own kindred, such twas unforgivable. "In time, he shalt meet the gods." Lady Dawnbringer said. She was well to keep her true thoughts quiet upon her lips, but so long as the slaver met the gods upon her blades, such was well and good.

"Now." Lady Deed again turned sheepishly toward Sakura and Oliver, her face once more a'grin as a Cheshire cat, "I hear you two be seeking companions for your adventures?"

Sakura nodded to the lady.

"Tis good. And such I know of one who seeks as you do."

"Oh?" Oliver asked. "Pray keep it not a secret Lady Dawnbringer?"

Deed grinned from ear to ear, "Certainly not. My my young Master Oliver you've a keen tongue about you. Know you the Temple of Torm?"

Oliver nodded, "In name and deed only, though I fear I've not had dealings with them previous."

Lady Dawnbringer nodded, "Fair enough, there is one there that seeks such a fellowship. A girl she is by name of Quiellie Silverhope, a paladin in devoted service to the Lord of Duty."

Sakura looked to Oliver as she dug into a second serving of fragrant stew, "Perhaps we shall seek her out? Ask of her to join our band?"

"Tis would be wise indeed, especially one whom our lady so recommends by her own hand." Oliver responded back. The two were well in quiet agreement.

"Well enough." Lady Cheryl replied. "Then I shalt speak to the temple of this in the morn. Mind thy manners amongst those who serve Torm, they are folk of high honor and duty, and such is their life."

"We shall Lady Cheryl, and thy thanks to both of ye." Oliver nodded to the high ladies of the table.

"Now, if you all shalt excuse me, there be matters of import I must tend to before the eve draws to close. Deed, my dear sister, might you accompany me briefly?" Lady Cheryl asked of her cherished blood sister. To which the golden-haired elf simply nodded.

The two companions remained long at the table, enjoying the succulent feast that layed before them. They spoke of dreams soon to be fulfilled, of hopes and fears, and the road they would tread upon...

Together, they so hoped and prayed.

Upon the high tower of the Halls of Sevenspire lied the emissary's personal chambers, itself a library of old dusty tomes and ancient librams spread haphazard amongst mahogany tables. Twas here that the chosen servant of the goddess of magic often sought refuge from the world, for her solace laid within reading such grand tomes.

Beyond this personal library was her bedchamber, a simple chamber with a grand posted bed and lavish wardrobe. Even a servant of the goddess, one whom had long transcended her human form into Mystra's chosen emissary in the realms, even she required such a human need.

Lady Cheryl looked out the stained glass of her window, Selune's radiant light shimmering down upon her, bathing her in purest moonlight. She was a sight to behold, one which Lady Dawnbringer grinned at, to see how beautiful her blood sister was in that fleeting moment.

"Deed." Lady Cheryl sat upon the edge of her bed.

"Speak not dearest sister. I know well that which you ask me, and I shalt indeed keep eyes upon them." Lady Dawnbringer said plainly.

"Am I so open as a book?"

"Of course ye are, ye'd not be my sister were you not." The elf chuckled. "I do admit though, she's chosen quite a fine companion for her adventures if I may dare say."

Cheryl blushed softly in the pale moonlight. "Aye, she seems well happy at his side. I pray Mystra guides them safely along the path."

"And that she will dear sister. That she always will." Deed replied back. "Ah, to be young and have such hopes and dreams. I envy them."

Cheryl looked to Deed in mock protest "Oh now yer making me feel old!"

The elf just sat there beside Lady Cheryl, a grin plastered hard upon her face. "Now now Cherry dear." A mocking name that earned her well a stiff glare of priestly doom toward herself. Deed could well only laugh at her sister's flustering.

"Gods, to think it's been years since anyone's called me that name." The emissary sighed softly.

"Reminds ye of thy own beloved?"

"Aye." Sadness crossed her face. How long had it been now since they had last been together? Twas a long score or years indeed. Cheryl could nae even remember the days that had passed since they had last been together. Long had she sought through high Art her beloved Spark's whereabouts, and yet even her most powerful magic could sense not his presence. Was he long passed into the realms of the gods? Had he sought adventure on some far-flung plane of existence? She knew not, and twas killing her every day since. Even their secret place, known only to themselves and the faerie folk was long gone, burned to cinder and charred ash in fire during the war

Silent tears flowed gently from her eyes, tears for a love long lost, yet yearned for even still. Deed could only watch her dearest sister, her face stolid, yet she knew well the grief that tore at her heart.

"Sister." She spoke gently, wrapping alabaster arms ever so softly around her waist. "I know what he meant to ye. And though he may well and truly be gone, he shalt be with thee in your heart for time everlasting."

Cheryl looked to Lady Dawnbringer, and broke down into sobs, clutching her sister tight against her. To harbor such pain for so long in utter silence, twas a burden that no being, neither human nor the scion of a beloved goddess should dare be forced to bear.

Twas a good long time before the emissary became calm once more, her cheeks awash with tears. She was grateful for such a caring sister, though nae of flesh and blood, whom could see life as she could not. Deed had long stood by her side since she was scarce a young girl herself, and yet now, after all the countless sisters, she knew now what it meant to have such friendship.

"Deed, think ye those two shall find love in one another?" She spoke of Sakura and Oliver.

Lady Dawnbringer just smiled and winked, "Have a little faith."

4

Methinks ye shouldst take what is given when proffered by an elf. They have secrets aplenty, as well they should, and take care ye don't pry too hard. Inquisitiveness is admired by the People, but rude investigation is not, and ye'd crack the shell of a dragon turtle with your teeth sooner than gain secrets from a slighted elf.

Elminster, Sage of Shadowdale

Rain hammered down hard upon the Living City that morn, a maddening cacophony of pin-drops upon stone and steel. A storm had brewed ashore in the night, and now as morn crested over the city, twas a blanket of mottled gray clouds that shrouded the city, rumbling occasionally with the deafening roar of thunder. Twas a horrid day indeed to be about, most horrid indeed.

Such a drenching did little to dampen the spirits of both Oliver and his charge. In fact they were much as children at play in the rain, shrouded in simple cloth cloaks. They darted about from one street to another, seeking sanctuary from the rain as their whims seemed fit. Even on such a horrible looking day, they sought the grand temple of Torm, one of the three-fold gods of justice whom cast down upon the realms their divine favor.

Twas nearly mid-day when they finally arrived upon the temple, a grand slab of stone and marble standing sovereign over all whom approached. The two, their cloaks soaked well by chilling rain, gazed up at the mock castle. Before the entrance, two guards clad in darkened war steel bared their path, their watchful gaze bore down hard upon the young adventurers.

Sakura could scare keep her heart from beating out of her chest, looking upon the men glaring upon them both, certainly taking their measure. Oliver though stepped forward in confidence, approaching the watchmen.

"Well met, we come at the behest of Lady Aiestrella to speak with a certain paladin of thy order." He presented forth a silver-forged scroll tube, sealed with the familiar symbol of the Mystran faithful, a river of mist amongst seven stars.

"And whom be this paladin you seek?" The guard replied gruffly. "Speak now."

"Lady Quel-ell..." He paused, trying long to pronounce the elven name to the watchmen.

"You seek Lady Silverhope." The guard snatched forth the scroll, and unscrewed the case. He examined it in close regard, ever watchful for treachery.

"Aye good sir." Oliver spoke, awaiting his fate. Twas the space of a long breath before the dutiful guard spoke anew.

"All is in order. You may pass." The guard growled as he opened the heavy iron doors outward, beckoning the young master and his charge forward.

"My thanks good sir." Oliver smiled as he begot his companion forward into the temple proper, and quickly out of the rain.

The high house of Torm stood mostly empty, save for a few ever-watching men clad in plate steel. Torchlight lit the grand hall, hanging forth from ablaze sconces upon fluted columns. There was no grandiose spectacle to be found here, no monuments to great deeds, no murals of divine wisdom. Such twas nae the way of the Tormite faith. Here there were only but three prime tenants; duty, loyalty, and righteousness, and here in this most holy place, the tenants of the faith were law absolute.

Directed to one of the side chambers, Oliver and Sakura found themselves upon the doorway of a small training room. The sounds of sword clanging hard upon steel echoed mightily. Quietly they entered the hall, and found two warriors in fierce battle. One wore banded mail with a noble bandoleer, berift of helm or gauntlets. He was a grim-faced warrior, bald save for his graying eyebrows and a slim mustache. His face bore many a scar proud upon his face, and his left eye was covered by a black eye patch. He had seen much the grizzled veteran had.

The other was a stark contradiction, for tis wore the form of a graceful woman, her plate armor crafted for her slender frame. From beneath her open-faced heaume, a beautiful lank of silvery-white hair sprung free, flowing forth with unearthly grace. Her shield bore the traditional symbol of Torm upon it's face, and her blade danced, aglow with the azure hue of enchantment.

Twas no quarter given between the two, the young lady knight slashed at her prey with viciousness and unbridled fury. Her opponent, a man of experience and cunning prowess parried away her blows. She was as a tiger fighting a snake, striking with boundless fury at elusive prey, yet unable to strike the killing blow.

Then, the opportunity came, a subtle shuffling of feet and movement that signaled weakness. The lady struck, thrusting her shield forth in a desperate gambit. Dazed ever so briefly by the blow, she then struck forth with quickness toward her foe's blade, knocking it free from his grasp. Tossed away from his hands, she reared back, sword pointed fiercely at the scarred veterans neck. She was poised to strike the final blow.

"Enough." The old man roared forth. No hint of fear or cowardice did he make, for he was well and willing to die so if Torm deemed such his duty. "And well enough indeed!"

The sword maiden stood down, peeling away the helm from her brow. Her silvered hair unfurled glistened with the sweat of war. Her pointed ears betrayed her heritage, a moon elf, regal and serene beneath steel and mail. For all her illustrious beauty, there was a certain rugged strength about her.

"My heartfelt thanks master." She answered back, swiping away the sweat from her brow. "I trust my efforts have met with thy approval?"

"Very much so child." He replied in turn, "I believe ye'll perform admirably in the field, as you have done so in thy practice." He turned to his left, nodding quietly to the two heroes. "In fact, I well believe the ones you sought have arrived."

The young lady knelt before her master in grateful respect. "With thy leave my master."

"Go now, child of Silverhope. Fortake of the duty our lord has so charged you with." He bowed to the young lady, before stepping out of the chamber.

The moon elf looked upon the duo with cold azure blue eyes. Taking forth the measure of those who would ask her companionship. Such was nae a easy undertaking, for it had took the urging of the Emissary of Mystra herself to the priesthood of Torm to allow such.

"Ye be the two the Lady Dawnbringer send to join me?" She spoke, her voice grim in expectation.

"Aye." Sakura said quietly, though such she thought would well be the other way around. "I take it ye be Quiellie?"

"Yes... I am her. And whom be you?"

Oliver stepped forward, "Oliver Alexander Blacktree, Knight-squire of the Golden Rooster. And this fine lady is Lady Sakura, daughter of her eminence the Lady Cheryl Aiestrella."

Her gaze was now steel upon Sakura, seemingly unimpressed by the tiny wisp of a sorceress. "And what be it you serve child? Do you serve yourself, and care only for fame and treasure? Do you seek what serves only ye'self and naught for those you claim friendship with? Tell me here and now. Speak." Quiellie's voice was cold with anger now.

"I..." Sakura stammered for an answer. "I know not, for I know little of the world and all it's perils. I come only to seek the truth of things, wherever such a road takes us. What I do know deep and well in my heart is that this world needs one's such as ourselves. People who fear not the truth of things, who walk upon the road with open mind and open heart, who walk unafraid of change, and who seek to brighten the way before them. If there be anything I serve tis that."

"And is thy word good and true?" The moon elf waited.

"It is. Tis all that I have." Sakura replied back.

Quiellie stood there for a lingering moment before finally letting her anger subside. Her voice still cool toward the newcomers, she spoke anew. "Well enough, I only trust that your truth and word, as you so elegantly put, leads us not to ruin. But know this well and now, such honeyed words alone will not alone convince me of thy convictions. Only thy deeds will give me such measure."

"Fair enough." The young Lady Aiestrella replied back, careful nae to offend further nor offer her another ill-wanted slight.

Quiellie then turned to Oliver, "As for you good sir knight. I have heard of thy deed of the other evening, and as such ye have my respect. I expect you to carry yourself as nothing less from henceforth."

"I intend nothing less." Oliver smiled.

"Good." She snapped forth quickly. "Now what seek you for the rest of this band?"

"I believe such matters are best spoken of over dinner." He replied back. "I know not of ye two, but hunger dulls my whits."

"Such would be adequate." She looked again to Sakura, "But I would feel better if we had one more knowledgeable in the ways of Art. I mean not offense, but our lives well depends on such."

Sakura shot her a look, yet she was quite surprised by the young paladin's knack for sizing up others. Indeed, she was only a kitten amongst tigers, and was she to ever grow strong in the ways of Art, she would need tutelage from one more experienced than herself.

The afternoon tolling of the bells yielded no respite from the rain, in fact it had magnified to a torrential downpour. The three stopped for feast at the Gliden Roost, a small dainty of a tavern over by Crow's End. Twas packed from end to end with common folk, seeking refuge from the storm, making a meal a adventure in patience. They feasted on hard cheese and smoked sausage with a pack roll of wheat-grown bread.

Quiellie spoke little of herself, for she had been raised most of her life under the temple of Torm under the watchful eye of Master Cheng. Taken in by humans when she was young, twas said her parents gave their lives in sacrifice to Torm during the Time of Troubles when he destroyed Bane in Tantras, the northern neighbor to the Living City herself. Such made her a blessed child amongst the faithful, one gifted with Torm's legacy.

Cheng had taken the lass in shortly after that fateful day, and brought her here to the Living City. Tempered through a lifetime of experience as a holy warrior of the faith, he sought to raise Quiellie as he himself had been raised, in service to Torm, and the three-fold tenants of duty, honor, and righteousness. Such became her creed, one which she had held dear and true to her heart to this very moment.

"So, I'm rather curious who this mage you wish to have join us is?" Sakura asked quietly of their unofficial leader. "Who is he?"

"First, tis a she I refer to. Her name is Lalaya Riversong, a seemstress by trade, yet an evoker of no small skill."

Sakura's eyes lit with fire at the mention of the curious hafling lass. "Ye've had dealings with her?"

"Yes, a few months back there was a slight altercation with a few of the city's vaunted guild of thugs and brigands. I had tracked them down to a back ally where they were assaulting an old lady for a few coin. Lalayla had gotten to them first though."

"So what happened to them? Out with it lass." Oliver asked.

"I saw it not, but whatever magic she had conjured had scared them so badly that they threw themselves to my feet in surrender. A few were scorched by fire and brimstone, barking forth that the devil himself had hunted them down." Quiellie let her lips crest upward in a small smile. "Quite impressed I was. I thought such a wizard would well be up to the task of a fellowship, but she back then declined me then only on grounds of tending to her duties at the shop during the winter. I would think now she would have time enough to reconsider."

"Aye, and no doubt considering her contacts amongst the bard's guild she would well prove useful to our cause." Sakura piped forward, gobbling forth a slim cut of sharp cheddar.

"So you know of her?"

"Indeed. Though only through a brief and enjoyable encounter. Twas Madam Brunhilde whom introduced me to her. In fact, she works now on a dress she was tailoring 'specially making for me." Sakura smiled.

"I think that well settles the debate. Let's go see this little lass of yours and see if she's willing." Oliver spoke up over a pint of amber mead.

By three bells past highsun, the rain had finally started to diminish, much to the relief of all in the Living City. Quiellie, Sakura, and Oliver had scarce left the tavern when a swift-footed youth ran astride Oliver, bumping hard into the young knight.

"Careful there lad!" He called forth, his yells coming on deaf ears amongst the crowd.

"Children these days. Little sense they have." Quiellie sighed. "Come now, let's make haste."

Before they could scarce move, Sakura noticed with a sharp eye the missing pouch of coins on Oliver's belt. Bolting free, she lept forward from the tavern steps, bolting down the street toward the thief.

"Sakura?" He yelled, and only then did he and Quiellie notice too the missing pouch. With a quick nod, they too darted from the tavern in pursuit.

Several minutes of flight passed, Sakura keeping sight of the thieving bastard of a boy. Then, in a sudden turn, he bolted down a back alley, trying to lose his pursuers amongst the abandoned hulks of burnt buildings in Crow's End. The old heart of the city, Crow's End was now little more than the run down festering slums of the city. Fire had devastated a good portion of the neighborhood two years ago, killing many a beggar and destitute in the cold of winter.

She held fast at the end of the alleyway, awaiting her comrades before continuing into the twisting expanse of blind corners and shadowed corridors. Few dared come here to the burnt remnants, for these were the realms of brigands, murderers and worse. Yet here now stood three young heroes, searching for a foolish youth who dared steal coin and gem from them.

"Shall we?" Oliver motioned to his fine lady companions.

"Let us be quick about it." Quiellie said quietly, unsheathing her enchanted blade.

Sakura said nothing, her heart beating hard once more. This time, twas not in fear that raced through her, but excitement. Here now she stood, amongst friends and comrades in arms, unflinching, unafraid. This was the adventure she long yearned, the destiny she had long prayed to embrace. She had made her choice, and twas for the first time in her young life, it was right and true! She followed along, keeping only a brief step or two behind the journeyman heroes.

Several minutes of searching yielded nothing. Where could the brat have gone? the threesome thought amongst one another. Had he found away out from these twisting back ways to freedom? No, they remained undaunted in their search. The braggart had stolen coin from them, and they were determined to bring him to justice for his misdeeds.

Quiellie raised her hand, motioning the heroes to stop. She pointed quietly to the burned remnant of a warehouse, a charred door hung lose from it's mooring, dangling ever so close to collapse. Her elven senses picking up the sounds of harsh breathing.

Oliver sneaked a look through a window, there they could see the boy placing something behind a makeshift barricade of crates and tables, like all here burnt to kindle-wood. Had they stumbled upon his lair, where his ill-gotten gains laid? Was he preparing some ambush for them. Did others wait, crossbows bared and waiting to slay the company. Twas only but one way to find the truth.

With a barreling smash of her shield, Quiellie barged in, Sakura a mere step behind, her orb of fire hot at hand. Oliver, ever the one for dramatic entrances, dove through the window in a spectacular tumble. Whomever this rouge was, they would give him no chance of escape.

"Surrender thyself rouge..." Quiellie demanded of the thief. Her blade bare and ready to strike true. She would nae allow him the chance to strike should opportunity present itself.

The boy trembled in panic, scooting back behind his makeshift barrier. He pulled forth a crude blade, one barely able to cut flesh let alone bread and butter. "G-go away! L-leave me alone you m-monsters!"

Sakura looked to the boy, his fear obvious in the firelight.

"Quiellie..." She dismissed her orb, puffing into oblivion with a wisp of white smoke. With a quick word, she summoned a light cantrip, illuminating the room in a soft glow. They faced no hardened thug, or professional rouge. He was a mere twig of a boy, barely a score and some winters old she surmised. He was clothed in filthy overlong rags tied together with leather bands, grease covering his dirty blonde hair and face.

"You sir." Her voice was still cold with fury and righteous anger. "You will surrender that which you have stolen from us. Then you will come with us to the nearest watch station and admit your guilt truthfully and without deceit."

"No!" The boy begged, eyes white with fear. "Y-your not taking me away from my s-sister!"

Quiellie looked, behind the rag-tag barrier was a makeshift bed. Asleep through all was a young girl, perhaps only a year or two younger than the thief himself. She was covered by rags, her face pained with sickness and pain. She breathed raggedly, a sickly pain heavy on every gasp.

"By the gods..." Oliver looked over, but twas reproached by the boy, brandishing his knife at the heroes. To them, they were monsters ready to send him and his sister to the abyss.

"Sakura, handle the boy if you would." She approached, again threatened feebly by the boy. "Now, stand aside." To the young boy, hers was the voice of a god, one that easily plucked forth the crude blade from his shaking hands.

Sakura took the boy over to the side, cautious to keep him close to his sister. She held him gently in her hands, trusting in Mystra that he was in no condition to dare escape. "How long has she been like this?" She asked of him gently.

"D-days..." The whelpling stammered again, tears streaming from his kindly orbs. "Ple... p-please don't hurt her."

Sakura brushed aside the tears, smiling gently. "We'll not harm her, but we must see to her aid if she is to live still. As for you. Why? Why steal from others what is not yours?"

"I... I only wanted coin. For food, and medicine for her. Please... don't send me to Ill-Water, I beg ye!"

"The only thing ye'd well be getting once we leave here is a quiet bed and a hot meal. And perhaps a few stern words from my mother. But no, I'd wish not that hell upon no one." She smiled, holding the boy in her arms. Slowly, his quaking diminished.

Quiellie looked to Sakura, then back the girl, feeling the chill upon her pale face. She was alive still, yet whatever afflicted her was slowly taking her life. The girl was delirious, and as such only had days at most left.

"Can ye help her?" Oliver asked quietly.

"Tis a malady that afflicts her, one which I know not if. We must seek her aid if she is to live." Quiellie stated, sadness tinging her tone. She turned to Sakura, "Have ye way of calling forth aid?"

Sakura shook her head.

Ah but ye do my dear. A familiar voice coursed silver fire through Sakura's mind. She slumped to one knee, her head ablaze in pain. Such contact had long caused the young sorceress indescribable torment for as long as she had lived, long thought a rare side effect of her draconian heritage.

Remember the song... Her voice trailed off into nothingness, the fire in her mind subsiding with it. She pained a sickened look upon her brow, steadying herself to her knees.

"M-miss? Are you sick too?" The young boy tugged at her.

"No... but I have a way to return us back to the halls." She searched her thoughts, remembering well the words mother had long enchanted upon her. A verse known long and well deep inside her heart since she was but a wee child.

No more do lovers pledge their troth,
Or gaze upon the stars.
No more do children sing and dance,
Or dream of lands afar.

The world shimmered and shifted about them, burned out ruins blurring into prismatic radiance. Twas a lucent display of kaleidoscopic energy, twisting about, changing in every hue and color of the rainbow. In a few brief seconds, they saw the world begin to form about them once more, transfiguring into the familiar confines of the Halls of Sevenspire.

"Mother?" Sakura called forth, much to the surprised gasp of many a scholar. Help was quick at hand within but a few breaths.

"Sakura? What..." Her words were stopped fast by the dying girl in her daughter's arms. "By the gods. Quickly now, give her to me, and meet us within the chamber of the white stag." She waved the others away in caution, taking forth the girl into her arms. With but a silent act of well, Lady Cheryl and the girl vanished to nothingness.

The next morn, the three heroes met outside the chamber of the white stag, one of the many guest chambers scattered about the tower. They had tended to the girl through the night with tender care and Lady Cheryl's restorative powers. Twas only now time and patience to see if she would well and fully recover.

They had long spoken to the older brother, whom they learned his name as Arti. Orphaned by the fires of Crow's End, he and his sister Miri had lost their parents. Without family or coin to turn to, Arti supported his young sister the only way he could, by thievery. Bread here, a link of sausage there. Then when the blight struck, he turned to stealing coin from various passers by, using his ill-gotten gains to afford the medicines to keep her sister well and alive. For a season they survived, until the chill of winter took it's toll upon the young child.

"A-am I going to Ill Water?" Arti asked nervously.

"No." Quiellie said quietly. "Such would nae serve the duty of justice. I do not forgive that which you have done wrong. But... I understand well thy reasons." She looked at the sleeping Miri, still being attended to by Lady Aiestrella. "Besides, I fear thy sister would well be upset if we did."

"Ah, so the paladin reveals a sharp wit at last." Oliver grinned. "I had almost given up hope of such."

"Test not my patience." Lady Silverhope intoned sternly.

From the chamber door strode forth the emissary, her face weary with sleep.

"M-Miri?" Young Arti stammered forth. "Is s-she?"

"Asleep for now, tis the darkblight that ravages her body I fear. Such I can mend through divine means, but such a malady will take long for her to recover." Lady Cheryl sighed softly. Then she turned anew to Arti. "You be her brother Arti?"

The boy nodded. "S-she's going to b-be okay?"

Cheryl nodded, "Aye, tis fortunate we caught it in time. Another day or so and she would been beyond hope. Have ye parents that live here?"

"N-no... the-they're dead." Arti burst forth into tears, quickly rushing into the emissary's arms. Ever so gentle did the high lady of Mystra embrace him.

"Come now dear Arti, tis little we can do now but let her rest. Let us see what we can do for ye young one." She smiled softly, leading the young rouge away to a separate bedchamber. Within a mere breath or two of placing his head upon a bed, hasted by a enchantment of sleep worked by the emissary was he fast aslumber, cradled in warmth and soothing comfort for the first time in many a moon.

Dinner was a quiet affair that night shared by the foursome at Miri's bedside. Arti's appetite was voracious, having had little but scraps for weeks on end, he was well eager to feast upon salted pork and stew. Twas an amazing site to behold the young boy was, to be so young and yet survive in the cold of a Ravenian winter alone, in little more than a burned-out husk, a testament to the his inner will to survive.

Quiellie's voice was softer now toward the young thief, though still stern. "Now young Arti, understand that I will still require you to serve proper penance for they misdeeds."

"S-so long as my sister is w-well." Arti looked to her. "W-what do you ask of me?"

"How be your skills at thieving?" Her reply came as shock and terror to the others. Surely she could not be serious, both Sakura and Oliver considered in their collective thoughts.

"Me... I-I, I guess I'm alright at it. I know my way around town well enough. But... w-why do you ask?" Arti gulped.

"Quiellie..." Sakura looked to the paladin. "Surely you be not serious to ask a mere child to join us?"

"Quite so. If he so wishes to do good and make up for what he has done, I say we allow him to do so rightly, and focus his talent toward the good of all. Such could he use a good example to look up, tis suitable penance in the name of Torm."

Arti looked about, fear fresh on his face. "B-but, what do ye mean? I-I'm no hero like you all are."

Oliver was incensed with the idea of asking a child, who had but little skill in skullduggery to join their ranks. Let alone have such suggested by a high and mighty paladin of a lawful god.

"This is insane! Have ye lost your wits woman?" He made his position known quite well. "That your sense of duty demands a child be placed on the front lines of war and danger. Such only to serve penance for a minor ill which twas done to save the life of another?"

"Tis not that make such behaviors rightful." The moon elf sighed, glancing back hard at her hot-headed companion. "I only suggest such so he understands well and true the gravity of his actions."

With a gravelly clearing of her through, Sakura brought the feuding warriors to abrupt silence. "Excuse me ye two, but may I?" She asked of the others, to which no objection was beholden. "You talk of his life as if he is nae even here, yet he stands before us even now."

Twas only silence from the quarreling duo, as the magician knelt down at Arti's feet, looking him square in those gentle eyes. "Arti, I know how dreadful this may be to be a hero. Yet not a day ago, you stood there ready to defense your dear sister to death with but a blunt shiv. In all my life, I've seen but one other show such bravery, and he stands here with us here and now." She smiled gently to the young boy, alleviating his fright.

"Y-you think so?" Arti asked of the young sorceress.

"I know so." She smiled gracefully back. "Courage is something that comes deep from the heart, ye well showed such to us all last eve, and I would trust that courage unto my death, as would we all if ye'd let us."

The youthful lad looked toward the others, "You... you would do so?" Arti looked to first into Sakura's emerald-green eyes, then toward Oliver & Quiellie, and finally the still form of her sister, and the beautiful woman who stood so kind over her. "W-Will she be safe here?"

"Now and for all thy days should ye so wish." Lady Cheryl said softly to the young rouge. "Of this you have my word."

All turned now toward the young man, and they waited. Sakura broke forth the silence, "So, young Arti, I ask you this. Will you place your courage in us, as we so place into yours?"

"Then... I-I shall join you. If not for my own sake, then my sister's." He nodded, clutching Sakura tight, his bright blue eyes and dirty blonde hair gazed upon his benefactors. They had saved him and his sister alike from the jaws of the abyss, and given both hope anew. Now he stood here, in the presence of friends for the first time in as long as either could remember, and he would nae let them down. Not now, nor ever gods willing.

From the bed, the faintest of groans could be heard over the commotion. Miri was beginning to stir from her fever. Still delirious from the darkblight that had so ravaged her, but well past the danger of death's door. She was much as her brother; blonde, blue-eyed. Her face a portrait of kindness, of unyielding resolve that refused her fate.

"Miri. Miri!" Arti exclaimed, surging forward toward his sister's side.

Cheryl held the young boy aside. "Easy now, tis will be several days before she's of her right wits again. She must be allowed time to rest."

"O-okay." He took her sisters hand, squeezing it lightly against his own. "Sis, it-it's going to be o-okay. We're safe now."

Lady Cheryl gave him a long moment upon his sister's side before finally pulling him aside with the others. "Go now. I shall call for ye once she comes to."

The heroes all nodded in agreement, relieving themselves from the chamber. Outside, Arti clung close to Sakura, a lost pup whom had found a mother anew. Quiellie looked to her, and for a brief moment, nearly broke a smile to the young sorceress. From one that showed only a quiet hint of emotion, such was highest praise from the paladin of Torm.

Oliver on the other hand twas another matter, for he liked not the idea of taking one so young on such matters that could well cost them life and death. Nor did he relish the idea of being a babysitter to children. As Lady Quiellie took the young rouge aside to find quarters, Sakura looked upon her protector.

"Oliver."

"Let's speak not of this. I nae like this idea one bit, placing a youngling such as he upon the front lines of war and death." Oliver sighed. "He reminds me much of myself in my younger days. Perhaps too much so."

She giggled softly, "You, an impressionable young rouge?"

The young swordsman made a certain look toward his charge, his eyes pleading her not to press on with such nonsense. Sakura wondered what secrets he held inside him. Perhaps one day, when she knew his heart well and true would she dare inquire so.

"Still, if such would be of comfort, I share your worry."

Oliver looked to his charge coldly, "Yet you yourself encouraged him to do so! Tis not right of you my lady. He's scarce barely able to hold a knife without fear, let alone face danger undaunted as we have. Yet we now ask him to sulk and slay from the shadows. Tis no better of us than we send him back to that charred cinder of a home."

"And would ye rather condemn him to live and rot in squalidness?" Sakura spouted back in anger. "With a sister dying from blight and fever, and a conscious plagued with dark deeds? No, I'd rather well give him hope than fear."

They looked upon one another, faces both aflush in anger. He sighed, turning to wake away from the young Lady Aiestrella. "I only pray that we are not giving him death instead." His words lingered heavy upon Sakura's heart.

Late upon the night, as many slumbered in comfort and want, a young aspirant studied on in the night, examining dusty tomes of lore by candlelight. Such was the norm of life for Daemarth, for he had long ago devoted his young life to the pursuit of wisdom. Yet behind his quiet disposition lurked a dark promise, for he served yet another mistress. One whom lingered in darkness; silent vengeance stewing low amongst dark fire, ancient hatreds long harbored yet never forgotten.

Shar, mistress of the night, the lady of loss.

Long had the goddess of night had yearned revenge against against blessed Selune, her lunar sister fair and true. Yet, beyond her eternal strife against her kindred, she harbored forth a even darker secret. She yearned the power of magic itself, such which Mystra ruled over all, even the gods themselves. To rule dominion over the grand power of the weave, to control the very power of magic itself, would be to enshroud the world in midnight eternal.

In time, Shar took forth small fragments of the weave, twisting them in shadow and night. In time, she learned it's secrets, and constructed a dark sister to the very should of the weave. The shadow weave twas it called, a force of darkness and death lorded over by the mistress of night.

Yet now she desired more, to purge the bright weave from the world, replaced in whole by twisted shadows. Even now, plans upon plans were in motion, designs to which only one supreme goal would be unquestioned.

Yet such plans required preparation, and to which Daemarth had come. Shar's dark blessings had shielded his existence from the seeking magics of the tower, potent and deadly as they were, and his guild had won him a rightful place amongst the seekers of knowledge. Long thought to be hunting knowledge of artifacts from the ancient jungles of Chult, in secret he studied long the enchantments that sealed the halls in potent Art, probing it's weaknesses. Such was subtle workings, for but one misstep would spell his end. When the time was ripe, he would bring his knowledge down as a slaying knife into the heart of Mystra's grand sanctum.

Only though when Shar so desired it. He had time, and patience upon his side. Much patience indeed.

"Burning the midnight oil again Daemarth?" A voice quietly asked from the shadowy night, one that seeped of mechanical automation. Daemarth shot from his chair in shock, nearly tumbling to the ground, save for catching the table for dear life.

Behind him, fluttering into dim amber light was a being must curious indeed. A metallic sphere held aloft by nimble bat-like wings of rusted iron drifted forward. A single blue eye peeking forth, aglow amongst the night, darting forth incessantly. Twas a creature Daemarth knew as a modron, a being of the realm of Mechanus.

Such a simple creature was the lowest form of life in the realm of iron, a simple worker designed for unsophisticated tasks. Yet the curious critter known amongst the halls as Whebley was no simpleton. A miscalculation in the grand realm of absolute order, he (as the being prefered to be refered as) was a monodrone with human-like intellect. Such deviation from norm was a death sentence to such an abomination, and to death he was cast in the realms of the prime material plane.

Twas only the prescience of a certain emissary of the goddess was Whebley commuted for his crime of existence. Free to explore the world of his old accord, the monodrone chose to stay amongst the high lady, serving as senchal and master of the Halls, seeing forth it's running day by day. Twas a task that the modron performed with unrivaled efficiency.

"I suppose, tis it that late already?" Daemarth asked of the monodrone.

"Aye, a few ticks past one-bell already, ye colleagues have long retired for the eve." Whebley's eye motioned up and down in a nod.

"Suppose I enjoy well the dark of night." He pondered his words, ever careful to hide his true motives. "The silence tis helpful in my work."

"Aye, aye, I can imagine that." It nodded again, fluttering about. "Any luck toward finding that grand ruby of yours?"

"Ah, yes, the Star of Zatran-Szazz." He replied back. "My findings had yielded some fruit, though I presume not ask thy madam until I certain it's whereabouts. Once I've finished so, I dare hope thy lady shall allow me leave of an expedition?"

"Oh good! Good indeed! I'm certain she'll well approve. In fact I hear well the lady's daughter now even seeks such adventure with her companions."

Daemarth's eyes perked forward in curiosity, for twas a tender morsel of knowledge that the modron had ill delivered to him. "I see, I shalt keep such in mind Mr. Whebley. I thank ye."

"Oh no worries, news of the world travels fast they say." Whebley sounded a laugh. A curious emotion for a seemingly simply automaton. "Well, of I go, things to do." With that, it fluttered off into the night.

The hidden servant of Shar smiled in the night, for her favor was well and true with him. What better way to bring forth the high bitches ruin than to send her beloved flesh and blood, and her friends alike to a shadowy grave, far from home amongst the beasts of Chult? And the Star of Zatran-Szazz, itself a potent work of Art would serve his dark mistress well. He returned to his tomes with renewed furor, for his master stroke would bring forth ruin to all, praying darkly in the night.

5

Soldiers fight, thieves steal, bards sing, wizards cast, sages think, assassins kill. Good or Evil we all have job to do. So tell me this... what the hell are nobles and merchants for?

Thoughts of an Old Sage
Anonymous

Twas only a breach of dawning light in the sky as the newborn company set out. They had been, most curiously enough, invited to morning-fry amongst the Riversong clan. Beckoned forth by courier to the abode of their hopeful prospect, how the young Lalayla had caught wind of their plans they knew not. Yet upon all was agreement that waking before the dawn twas an ill deed this early.

Sakura was still well weary with sleep, her eye-lids heavy with want of slumber. Same for Oliver, whom had scarce set head to pillow before such bidding came. The two looked not at one another, still angered at one another for their harsh words of the eve before. Yet they both looked to their elven paladin in want, for Quiellie needed only but a short reverie to renew her strength.

As for the newest member of their merry band, Arti was a boundless haversack of youthful energy, clothed anew in a crisp linen shirt, clinging forth here and there somewhat queerly upon slender frame. The grime and soot of a long season washed clean from his pleasant face, revealing a visage of boundless youth and gentle strength. There was a glimmer in his bright eyes, and for the first time in many a winter he found himself well and wanted, amongst friends whom he trusted upon his life. The others looked at him, and wondered long how he had such energy, even in this god-cursed time of the morn.

The abode of the Riversong clan rested three-fold levels above the Gilden Gowns Dress Shoppe where Lalayla crafted forth. Skittering up a long flight of stairs flanking the store, the heroes trudged up quietly, weary to wake those below. Swinging around the balcony to the entryway, they could here the sounds of bardic harmony and song from the open doorway.

Sakura peaked her head in first, seeing first the amazing site within. Twas a crowded mess of a room, with the familiar trappings and livery of a halfling abode. A grand feast of morning-fry laid spread upon oaken tables, small in size yet well enough for the kin. Books and journals laid scattered about in haphazard disorderliness, stacks here, piles there. Twas as if whomever lived within had raided the grand libraries of fabled Candlekeep and piled all within. How had a single halfling lass, barely newborn to the Art come to possess such a impressive assemblage of knowledge?

Yet, Lalayla twas not the only one here, for amongst her were her siblings, the whole of the Riversong clan. Two sat at the table, both garbed in the brown and gold of the ministry of art. One wore a wide-brimmed cap fitted over pointed ears, while the other wore naught but scraggly brown hair and an look of inquisitiveness hard upon his face. They were arguing heated over arcane gibberish which even the young sorceress of the band could scarce understand.

Opposite the dueling magi sat a third, identical in appearance to the brown-haired mess of a halfling save for his garb and spectacles. He laughed heatedly, drinking from a sizable pint of mead and bread, blasting forth scarring rebuttals to the others for their amateurish spellcraft. The last of the brothers, well away upon a makeshift seat of dusty old tomes was a most curious kin indeed, for he sported wild green hair and amethyst-hued eyes, wearing forth robes to well match his peculiar hair-style. He sat quiet upon his make-shift throne of wisdom, reading forth a tome on the conjuration arts, with particular emphasis upon the summoning of elemental beings. He paid his brothers quipping not head.

"Hello there." Sakura gently rapped upon the open doorway, announcing their presence to the brothers. "We've come at the behest of Miss Lalayla. Tis she here?"

The halfling in the hat looked toward their guests. "Ah, yes yes! You most be those adventurers she's spoken of. Do come in!" He said brightly, then quickly turned to his fellow guildmage. "Of course if ye'd just realign the energy flow of elemental forces into the capstone as I've well pointed forth, ye'd be able easily..."

"Easily? Easily?" The drunkard harked back. "Gimble lad, ya may well just toss a fireball at yer feet now and save yourself the trouble, if yer stupid enough to cross such streams together. Ye'd be crazed to cause a total nexial inversion within the capstone like so! Crazy I say! Now go back to ya books like the wee little guild pup ye be."

"Elmyr, look, Gimble knows well the elemental capacities of the capstone. Such a inversion would be as rare as a red dragon seeking the ways of law and good. Tis simply not possible I tell ye." Twas nigh impossible to tell the three apart, let alone make sense of the magical mayhem they spoke upon.

"Ohhh, dear little brother Tobber, will ye listen well to yer brother for once. I dare speak this for ye own good, and I tell you well and true that magnifying forth such arcane forces will certainly cause inversion. Tis sage advice I give that will mean well thy safety. Not that the guild would teach ye of such things. Alas my brother, one so poor in the ways of Art..."

"Now you well take such words back this instant!" Tobber spat back in frustration, the two spouting forth argument upon counter-argument as swordsman seeking to slay. Twas a interesting, if not amusing display of intellect for the company.

"And must I remind you three what shalt happen next?" The violet eyed halfling said softly.

Elmyr looked to his younger brother. "Oh, so little Puck finally awakens from his reverie. What say ye in this war of will and words, amongst kin and stranger alike? Do tell freely dear brother of mine."

There was no words, only the loud rapping of a heavy tome over Elmyr's head. His face shot forward with comedic speed, landing hard and fast into a waiting bowl of portage, much to his brothers grand amusement.

"And that dear boys, is the end of this debate." Stood the lone lady of the Riversong clan, the blonde haired Lalaya. She turned to the company, her face spread into a wide grin. "Oh mind him not, his mind be as sharp as any here, but often he lets his plentiful draught cloud his judgment so."

"Lalayla, well met this morn!" Sakura smiled, careful nae to break forth in laughter.

"And well met to ye dearie. Now, come, eat, be merry. I didn't spend all the eve cooking a grand morning-fry with momma to let it serve cold." She grinned, "Besides we've much to talk about this day, and I don't intend to entertain such chatter without a full belly."

The dawning hours were spent in enjoyable company amongst the wizards of the Riversong clan, loud and boisterous in Art as they were. Gimble and Tobber, both adepts of the guild kept inquiring long about Sakura, and how she had come to her powers of sorcerery. Elmer, still well picking corn mush from his brow and hair spent much time yammering tales of his own adventures to those who would well listen, to which Oliver and Arti were a captive audience. As for Lalayla herself, she and Quiellie spoke at length, always in quiet tones.

"Miss Lalayla?" Sakura asked turning aside from the brothers inquisition. "How came you to know we sought a wizard? Such we had scarce began to discuss only the eve before."

"First Dearie, none of this miss or lord, or high and mighty master of Art if ye'd mind, just good ol' fashioned Lalayla will do. Second, just to entertain yer curious minds, I've young Puck here to thank for that. He sees things in his dreams every rare often, and such he saw the night before."

All eyes turned upon the curious Puck.

"Well, much I fear is still hidden from me, though I suspect the hand of Mystra does obscure my vision in her weave. Yet I believe that ye all will be the future of our fair realm. For weal or woe, this I nae know, but I know only that such shalt come to pass."

"You believe the lady of mysteries has shown you such?" Quiellie asked.

"I do, and yet there is more. A verse such I have heard, an echo of the weave. From which I know not where such originates."

Sakura looked to the young halfling, "Say on."

"Tis said; In fire shalt one rise and in fire shalt one fall, for the silver flame scorches all. Yet all which burns shall be born anew, a silver fire in the shadow of Selune."

"Ohoho – a grand mystery indeed." Lalayla beamed proudly.

"I-I'd say so." Arti finally pipped up, having long been silent with hunger. "Sakura, think your mother would know what such would mean?"

"Twould not be unwise to ask it of her." She replied back, noshing upon pan-fried eggs and sweet pork sausage.

Oliver then spoke "Agreed, and best we get some answers soon? Especially that part about one rising and one falling by fire. Doesn't exactly bold well I would say."

"Oliver, such is the way of prophecy. Could well as relate to some place, some person we know not of. Such have many different meanings. Think not that such means us until we know the truth of it all." Sakura told her fearless shield. "I've oft found that such predictions make little sense till they come true."

"Aye, and well indeed. Such speak of Art and magic makes my head burn." Oliver grumbled.

"And what say ye've of Art lad?" Tobber glared at the swordsman. All turned to the young human, eager for his reply.

Oliver gathered forth his feelings, "I would think less of such would be well for all. I've seen what such Art has done in the hands of cowards who craven only for power and mastery of men. To see men of valor and courage slain by those bound to shadow and silence, chanting forth doom and death at whim."

He clenched his fist beneath the table, the lingering pain of memory thrusting deep upon his heart. "Though I ill not to offend those who work well and good such power. Tis a terrible thing such that fell powers wield. They were good men, honorable men. Men cheated of their very lives by – by cowards."

Sakura could only notice the trembling in Oliver's clenched fist. Anger boiling bright upon his face. She took forth his hand gently, praying Mystra's calm upon his rage. "Tis why we who's hearts are true and good, wield such against the night. I know not what it is you faced, and I pray blessed Mystra their rightful place at her side, but I swear if we face such, we will face such darkness together, of magic and steel."

"And we shalt prevail." Quiellie added.

Oliver looked hard into Sakura's gentle eyes, those emerald orbs of placid calm. A smile crept upon her porcelain face, leading the young sorceress to take forth his hand. To be so young, and to have seen death's unyielding gaze strike down so many. She knew now why he had risked all to save her. She yearned to know his heart, the heart of a hero upon her own.

Twas in that single breath of moment, that first gentle embrace that she at last knew the truth that words could not intone. She loved him, with all her heart and soul, and would well go to war and die, if only to stay at his side.

"Well, now that ye two lovebirds are finished." Lalayla mocked, bringing furious blushing from the two, quickly denying such a romantic interlude in their midst.

Another voice, hidden behind the walls of arcane tomes called out. "Dears, come and get your breakfast!" Twas the voice of a womanly halfling, one which had seen many a winter in her days. She was beautiful for one so old, her long hair bound by intricate bonds. She wore formal vestments of blue and violet upon gold. A cerulean pendant hung upon her heart, proclaiming her devotion to wondrous Yondalla, the patron deity of the halfling kin.

Lalayla grinned, her voice filled with reverence "Be ye known to our mother, the matron Cybil." The elderly mother nodded in simple thanks to her children, and the bold heroes upon them. For all the years she had seen with those bountiful eyes, twas a certain grace to her that transcended her many winters.

"Thank you my sweetlings." She smiled quietly. "And my thanks to ye all for coming this morn. Now, eat well and be merry one and all."

"Aye!" The Riversong clan voiced in unison.

Twas this moment, to the shock of many that Arti spoke up. A thought bubbling forth to his lips "U-uhm, if we are t-to adventure, would w-we nae need one skilled in the healing arts?"

"He's right." Quiellie perked up at young Arti's suggestion, "For my talents, I have only little to bring forth in the divine powers of life. We are in need of a cleric, and soon if we are to bring this company to bear."

The heroes glanced about at one other, hoping that one would speak forth of knowing such a worker of divine power.

"Fraid I no not one off-hand willing to come along on such a wild journey." Oliver invoked, cleaning his cheek. "What of you Lady Silverhope?"

The moon elf shook her head. "Nor do I, those whom pray within the temple have their own duties, a shame indeed." Quiellie sighed. "What of you Sakura? Perhaps yer mother would know one who would seek death and glory with us?"

"I myself do know one such who eagers for travel. Yet..." She paused, thinking of how best to say such to Quiellie, whom would nae like the idea of it one bit.

"W-Well spit it out."

"She is a priestess in service to blessed Selune. A half-blood drow by name or Iris." Sakura replied to Arti

Quiellie's eyes shot open in blood rage. "Drow! Ye dare speak of Drow? Nae, I shalt not have such filth disgracing this order's good name!"

"Quiellie dearie, perhaps if ye'll open yer ears before yer ignorance clouds thy wits." Lalayla interrupted loudly. "If ye'll come back to reality for half a breath, I believe she said a half-blood."

"It matters not." The hot-tempered paladin swore back, white fury aflame in her eyes. "Half-blood or no, they hold forth the blood of the spider queen in them. I shalt nae trust one with my life!"

"Lady Siverhope, I beg your calm." Oliver demanded of their steel-clad comrade. "Each of us here, who have sworn their lives to this company, we trust well in one another with both life and hope." He paused, letting his words loiter. "Yet ye would now cast forth another who would seek us willing for only the color of her skin, or the credence of her convictions? Nae, I shalt allow it not! Let us at least see to this priestess, and if her word be good and true, such shall be considered. You may well judge for her deeds and actions, but nae for the blood that courses in her blood."

("Lively lot this folk are" Tobber whispered to his brothers, met with only eager nods.)

A good long breath passed before the silver-haired maiden came to her senses, her furor simmering to a low boil. "Very well..." She cursed under her breath. "We shall see to this cleric. But know well and true this moment, that I shalt not give her time to falter. If her word reeks of even slightest ill. She will nae stand amongst us." She stood from the oaken table. She had other words upon her heart, words of cold vengeance upon her kin's ancient foes, yet in wisdom she spoke them not. "We'd best be moving, lest we waste till highsun."

"Aye lads and lassies, and the sooner the better!" Lalaya roused herself up. "Now boys, I'll well be good and far away for a while. I expect this place and the shop in one piece when I return, or all shall pay." Her words, though playful in tone, struck of blackest dooms upon her brothers. Though the youngest of her clan, her intellect was unparalleled, and her ego was that of a thundering titan.

"Oh, that reminds me dearie." The hafling lass then turned anew to Sakura. "I do well believe I have a couple items for ye from the other day. Think ye may be liking of them." She motioned the bright faced sorceress aside toward the shoppe. "I even made ye a couple of me own designs."

Sakura blushed in delight, for only could she imagine Oliver's face when she was garbed so.

Twas only a short trot away over to The Moonflame, the holy house of Selune nestled in the Living City's altartown district. Twas a beautiful domed and spired temple carved of polished granite and marble. Even amongst sparkling morn, such a place shimmered majestic amongst the morning sun. One could only imagine it's unearthly beauty upon a moonlit eve, and such did the company stop to well admire.

Finding the young moon maiden known as Iris was no harsh task, for she had yet to rise forth from slumber. Sakura rapped gently upon her door, knowing well the half-blood. She had long known her as a beloved friend, a child with a heart of gold and the gentle grace of moonlight in her soul.

Iris answered forth her summons, sleep heavy up her green eyes. She was clad only in a simple cloth shift that fell to her knees. Iris smiled at the vision of the young Lady Aiestrella, beckoning forth entrance to her chamber.

"As I dare live and breath, how are ye dear?" She embraced the young sorceress tight, as much as she had done so since both were mere children. Iris, as she was known and loved amongst the Selunite faithful was a story all to her own. Born the unwanted child of a human woman whom had been raped by murderous Drow, she was laid abandoned as a newborn upon the temple's doorstep. Oft ridiculed and tormented by children and grown folk alike for her heritage, she knew only the priesthood of Selune as her only respite, growing wise and true in faithful tutelage.

Iris was a kindly soul; quiet, soft-spoken, yet kind and wise beyond her years. Yet she knew all too well the cruel lash of hatred. The taunting, the cruel jests, countless scars both seen and felt had turned her into an outcast, forever damned to lurk in paining shadow and silence. She had but few friends she had come to know and trust.

"I'm well, and how of ye?" Sakura smiled back to the ebony-skinned beauty.

"Well." She glanced to the others, especially the moon elven girl in war steel casting a dark gaze upon her. "Friends of yours?"

Sakura nodded, "Aye, mother has finally given me leave to seek adventure at last. These folk here are my dear comrades in this endeavor."

Iris smiled with happiness, knowing well and long Sakura's desire to become such. "Tis bout time! I'd begun to wonder if she would ever let you free from that blasted ivory tower."

"We were wondering if ye'd wish to travel with us? Selune willing."

Iris looked to Sakura in astonishment. Here, her one true and willing friend sat, yearning to seek fame and glory against battle-tested allies. And she would now ask one like herself, long tormented by fear and prejudice to join her, to travel the whole of the realms in search of fame and glory. Was at long last her prayers answered, an escape from this prison of her existence?

"I know tis much to ask and so soon, but... I think of no one better suited than thy self." The sorceress asked of Iris once again.

"Sakura, my dearest friend. I know ye'd accept me even if I was of infernal blood." Iris said quietly, her gentle gaze looking up toward the others. "But what of them? Why do they look upon me with doubt in their hearts?"

"Hey, I-I don't doubt you. I – I mean." Arti stammered and stumbled loose, words coming ill from his young mind. "L-look at me, they – they found me in a burned out shell, beyond hope. I-I dared to strike them, if – if only to save one that I loved. And yet – they still trusted in me."

"He speaks truth." Oliver said in turn. "We've all come to know well one another these past few days, despite our differences however heated they may be. Such tolerance I well hope others could partake more of."

"Oh your just a big softie!" Lalayla cackled loudly to Oliver, giving him an affectionate poke to his gut. "But least he's smart enough to speak truth. Besides, I don't think we could well find one more suited to the task as ye be lassie."

All eyes turned to the moon elf now, the last to say anything, and yet silent she remained, blinding hatred still burned in her eyes, disdain she dared not relinquish in the presence of one she so hated.

"My lady, please pray tell? Why be it ye hate me so?" Iris asked quietly of the paladin.

She turned away, her head hanging low. "Because." she stopped, desperate for words. "Your kin destroyed that which I loved dearest, turned to ash and ruin all I ever loved dear in my life, and for that..." She was trembling now, raw hate dire upon her trembling heart. "I will make them pay for what they have done."

"Please – tell on?" The priestess asked of Lady Silverhope.

"Twas – twas long ago, many seasons ago, long before any of ye were yet born. I was a mere child of some seven-score seasons then, and I had found love."

"You, love another?" Lalayla chuckled, earning her a quick smack in the ribs by Oliver.

Quiellie nodded, "Aye, his name was Aeorlyth, and he was my betrothed. A master of bow and Art alike, he was amazing to behold. He was a prince amongst my kin; and I, a sword-maiden with a heart of silver was to be handfast to him by want of my parents. Such was my wish, for his heart was good and true indeed."

"We came to know one another well. We sang and danced, our passions aflame for one alike. Twas only mere days before we were to wed. Twas when the drow burst forth from below, into our fairest realm, seeking to murder and slay. All the tales of how drow were sickened by the light, twas naught but lies. They struck us at high-sun unawares, with their spiders and summoned demons. They killed many, and took those whom nae escaped their grasp back to the sunless depths. Myself and my love were amongst them."

"T-then what happened?" A nervous Arti asked of the moon elf.

"For weeks it seemed they marched us, bound and chained as cattle to slaughter upon a trail of blood and tears. Many died from wounds upon the way, the black-skinned ones seeing us little better than slave fodder. Only a small handful survived, we we at last arrived to our destination, our doom laid bare before us. The enclaves of the Drow, secreted deep beneath ruined Myth Drannor." Fresh tears sprung forth hard across her cheeks.

"Quiellie. You need not tell us more." Oliver pleaded.

"I – no, for thy love's sake I must tell, for tis why I hate them so. What they did to us, man, woman, and child alike. Savages, every bloody last one of those bastard sons of Lolth so. They preyed upon our fears. Made us – do things. Terrible acts of profanity." She could scarce contain her anger and hate, choked upon sobbing tears. "By the gods, what monster would dare to rape and maim another for their own twisted pleasures?" She trembled, the surging pain of memory grasping tight on her chest.

"Quiellie lassie. Why didn't ye come out with this sooner?" Asked Lalayla, "Letting such venom poison your thoughts so, and for so long."

There was nae any consolation, no soothing words which could ease the hurt raw upon Quiellie's heart. Only truth, raw, pained truths buried deep in memory, a remembering which long haunted her bosom.

"What happened to thy love Lady Silverhope?" Oliver asked of their crestfallen leader. A bold inquiry which brought quickened protest from the youngling of the fellowship.

"Oliver. S-She's had enough!"

"No." Quiellie pronounced through stinging pains in her heart. "Best thy know all. He, even amongst such wickedness, he was our bastion, our strength. We looked to him and dared hope to resist our dark masters, even upon pain of death and worse. In time though, they took him and myself, for they saw in me the key to his breaking."

Her words faltered upon quivering lips. "They took us to that - that pit, where the drow had maimed and tortured many of my ilk. Their blood spattered upon the floor, like some sickening work of art upon canvas. They bound him and I both, stripped bare to naught but flesh. Then – the dark-skinned ones gave me a choice. Blasphemy thyself here and there for their twisted pleasures, or watch them kill my love slowly and most painfully." The paladin quaked, "I chose to protect that which I loved. For that – for that."

"Quiellie, no more." Sakura demanded gently of her steel-clad companion, clutching her forth in embrace. "My gods I'm so sorry."

The young paladin of Torm sobbed anew, "Tis – tis alright, for tis a tale I had long beared heavy in my heart, a venom as dark and sinister as any Drow could visit."

"So what pray I ask of thy love?" Sakura asked.

"I know not. For days, I was but a broken husk, adrift of mind and body." She fought out from tears. "When next I awoke, I found myself amongst humans, fresh from Myth Drannor where they had found me bound and unclothed. A depraved sacrifice for the demons that so crazed blood in that ruined place. Yet, thanks to them I did live, and amongst them twas two who served well thy sovereign lord Torm. Eredrin and Fiona Silverhope they were, a paladin & priestess alike in service to the lord of duty."

Iris spoke anew to Quiellie. "Tis how ye came to know his faith?"

"Aye – they brought me to Tantras, where they mended to thy wounds both physical and emotional. They knew thy lord's love, and that love they parted upon me. The gifted me strength anew in the three-fold virtues; duty, loyalty, and obedience. They gave me purpose once more, reason anew to exist."

"Twas then that Bane, the black hand of tyranny came in the wake of the Time of Troubles. And to their final duty did my adopted kin accept, for they sacrificed themselves in thy lord's name. I had thought the world long and truly dead to me, yet twas Torm's words that gave me hope. Though dead I once was, I knew then and well twas in his service that was I reborn again. Twas that day, I swore myself upon thy family's name to uphold their legacy, and rid the world of those who would dare visit such madness upon anyone."

There the paladin sat, her tale laid bare for all. Her eyes bright red in tear-soaked agony. She looked to the young priestess of Selune, and reached her hand out. "I pray ye can forgive my anger towards ye?"

Iris looked to the sobbing paladin, her gentle face cresting a smile. "Aye." She spoke, her voice nae a soft whisper. "I pray unto the moon maiden, that ye will know peace, and that ye will find anew such hope. I too know well the sting of despair. A child, born of drow and human blood alike, unwanted – unloved. Tormented, anguished, and long hated by all, simply for the blood that runs in my veins. Tis the heaviest burden of all to know not love. Yet here twas I, though a mere child thrown astray, I came to know Selune's love, and the hopes of another." She looked to Sakura. "Thy sorceress, my dearest friend. She knew me well, and cared not that I was so different, nor did she harbor hate for the hue of my skin. She came to me with open heart and mind, and her gift of friendship. tTs such to this day I cherish more than any such bauble of treasure or gleam of coin."

She paused briefly, "And if only for want of such, I would gladly give myself to your service in search of such bright hope."

Quiellie's stone face finally broke into a tear-soaked smile. "Then you shalt have it, oh blessed child of Selune! By the gods ye shalt well and true have it!"

The others broke forth into rousing cheers, embracing one another in joy. Twas celebration which lasted several long minutes. At long last, the fellowship stood one and all, united in spirit and purpose. Six strong they stood; a wisp of a sorceress, clad in Mystra's bountiful weave. A man of privilege and high upbringing, seeking to match forth his noble heritage in both word and deed. A elven paladin, born twice-anew in service of duty and honor. A dirt-crusted boy, whom had survived by wit and luck alone. A wizard small of stature, yet keen of intellect and country sense. And at last, a priestess of the moon goddess, a child born of two worlds, yearning only acceptance.

Though of many-a-world they were, they had found one simple thread that well and truly bound forth their fates together. They would seek glory and fame together, and through all they so pledged their fates to one another.

The Company of the Silver Hope had been born.

6

Let the snow fall deep, the rain drive down, and the wind buffet my cloak. I care not for I've a road worth walking!

Drittz Do'urden

Near a tenday had past without word or whist of action, such was life at times in the Living City. The company went about their business, having taken abode in a grand parlor upon the central tower of the Halls of Sevenspire. The lair, as they had come to speak of their meeting hall, was a comfortable lounge of wine velvet couches and cherrywood tables. It's walls, depicting a grand elven hunt in pristine detail; rearing unicorns and pegasi murieled in painstaking detail. Once several grand bookcases housed novels and lore of ancient time, and such still they did, joined now by cases of bundled parchments and detailed maps of the city and the lands beyond.

Lady Cheryl had spared no expense in the outfitting of the order, for they had been gifted with gear and arms of finest make. Though potions and scrolls aplenty were offered and gratiously accepted, the order felt only wise that items of wonder and enchantment be of their own merits. Twas a proposition the emissary accepted of her beloved champions, though she insisted at least they convey a few minor baubles of magic. To her beloved daughter, a wand of rose crystal topped with a flawless diamond, able to shoot forth bolts of spell-force. To Oliver went a shift of fine chain mail, so light and aglow in silver as to be near weightless.

Quiellie was blessed with a immaculate shield, heart-shapped in design, bearing forth an elegant depiction of a majestic phoenix laid ablaze in silver fire. Twas such that the company quick agreed to use as their banner. Arti meanwhile hard garnered a pair of fine bracers of smitten bronze, adorned with etchings of regal dragons entwined in flight, sheathing the young boy in a tangible field of protective magic. And to young Iris, the emissary had left her a gown, one which she had worn in younger days, made of illustrious azure blue upon violet. Twas a robe which cloaked it's wearer in shadow and illusion upon command.

Oddly enough, little Lalayla asked not for such trinkets. Though she beseeched the lady's favor in completing a grand project she had longed to bring to fruition. She called it the wondrous wagon, a traditional caravan wagon en-spelled by powerful magics to traverse even the most difficult terrain, pulled by a pair of phantom steeds. The emissary smiled upon the young halfling, impressed with her ingenuity and creative spark. Such would take many weeks time to construct and enchant, and till then horses and steeds would do well. But at this early stage, time was a staunch ally of the company.

Sakura laid quietly upon one of the grand couches within the grand hall, alone and serene in her thoughts. All had gone well to this point with the formation of the order, despite their early plights forging such together. Yet there was a certain emptiness in her, a desire she longed for.

Time and again over the last several days she and Oliver had spent together amongst good friends one alike. But deep within her heart and soul she longed to be with him, to speak the words her gentle heart so desired her to speak. Yet time and again she could find not the words. Twas such love too soon for one so young? She put her head gentle upon the couch, her eyes drifting into the black abyss of sleep, dreaming of the man whom she wished as her forever.

Her pleasant imagining was fast cut short though, as a certain halfling lass burst forth into the chamber, eyes wide with excitement. She darted about, maniacal laughter bursting free from her lungs. A cackling laugh which shot Sakura from her half-sleep.

"Aye, can ye keep it down dear?" She shot a certain glimpse of annoyance toward the haggard halfling.

"Ohoho~ and I'd thought ye'd be the first to be excited of such news!" She beamed, pressing forward quickly, she handed the young sorceress a wax parchment scroll.

"And just what have we here?" Sakura sat forth upright, relaxing herself into stretch as she wiped the weariness from her eyes. Unfurling the parchment, she scanned it forth, reading it quiet under her breath.

Tis read as such:

Greetings friends!

My name is Ritifin, a seer of high repute and renown who resides currently in the charming little town of Grosvenson. The people, being mainly farmers and backwards folk and such have turned to me for guidance and leadership during these most interesting times. I (with all due humility) accepted their charge and have been scouring the realms for men and woman of action and wit to assist me in resolving Grosvenson's problem. We have a matter of an most peculiar political succession to determine, and we beseech of your help!

I, being a mere sage and expert of all things magical, have no gold or coin to offer you – but I think I have something better than such to offer as reward should ye come here and do the town and myself a good service.

As always,

(Signed and notarized)

Ritifin Chraston

Sage of the highest order

Duly chosen regent of Grosvenson

A mission laid bare before them. At long last a chance to prove might and mettle to one and all. Sakura's eyes gave Lalayla a look of abject glee, one shared by the nimble lass with all due haste.

"Tis time I think we summon our company together. We've work to do!" Her last words were a cry of mirthful glee.

"Aye, and about bloody well time indeed!" Lalayla surged out, sprinting forth as her tiny legs would carry here across the breadth of the tower. She was quick to gather the others.

The six sat aloft in their palatial chambers, scouring over a finely scribed map of the lands of the Vast. Grosvenson twas but a small hamlet, nested north of the Wandering Trail abreast the River Vesper. A quiet backwater town of verdant farmlands, homestead to simple folk living forth simple lives. What matter of ill could have come to such a place that such required the might of the Living City's fine heroes? Such was pondered long and well by the company in their designs.

"Be there any news from the lands of the Vesper?" Oliver asked of his colleagues. "Tis best if we have idea what we would face forthwith."

Sakura shrugged, knowing not such brack. "Nae, tis been quiet there as far as I can tell. No word of raging monster or beast, no strife or perfidy. Not a word."

"M-maybe your mother can divine s-such?" Arti stuttered out.

"I fear we cannot. She's involved in a task of high enchantment at Lalayla's request, and has asked for privacy for the next several days."

Quiellie sighed, "Rather convenient." Such tone earned her a stern glare from the young Lady Aiestrella.

"I don't know about ye louts, but all this harping and scheming makes me ill. If we're even going to find out what's going on in thy yonder town, I'd say we best make flight!" Lalaya burst forth, eager to ride.

"But think it wise, to rush forth blindly into danger unseen?" The quiet voice of Iris asked of the band.

"I'd much rather face danger than cower away from it, if such ye ask." Spat back the halfling lass.

"Enough." Quiellie barked forth, ending such callous accusations of cowardice. "I think it well and fair that we know not what we ride forth toward. We then shalt seek it out at it's source, undaunted, unafraid." She looked toward the rest of the company.

"I... I-I'm ready for anything." Arti managed forth a small smile.

"Aye, and I for one would very much enjoy the open road and the wind at our backs." Sakura added.

Oliver looked to his charge, and grinned. "Then shall we m'lady?"

Twas all the motivation the six needed. With gear and courage well in hand, they strode from their chambers, bursting free from the ivory spires of Sevenspire. Their mounts, sturdy riding horses one and all awaited them in the nearby stables. The looked to one another, hope and fire in their eyes. At last, their first grand adventure stood before them. Danger and deeds of daring-do, the wind full and high upon their sails. Twas an moment of rapture fast within their hearts.

Boldly they mounted, and boldly they rode forth, to a noble calling & to glory for those sought high hope.

The stench of raw meet hung high from the rafters of the ice house at highsun, where forth a bloated man plied his grisly trade, twining forth freshly slaughtered lamb and pig alike for delivery to many a cook's stewpot throughout the city. Twas a profession of convenience for Thendrael, spaying forth beasts of flesh and bone for the consumption of others. By night, as his depraved nature allowed, he would add the meat of hunted men to his repertoire, men he murdered well in the name of Bane.

"Hail good sir, I seek fine veil this eve, and I desire only the finest cuts." A familiar voice haunted the icy chamber.

"Good sir. Well met this day." He boasted forth. "And what fine meats does ye desire. I've newly arrived lamb and oxen fresh from Mossbridges if you desire." The fat man grinned, knowing well the truth behind his dark masters honeyed words.

"Yes, I have partaken of such. But I hear ye've well received new hogs from the north?" Xantarex grinned.

"Ahhh, ye hear well friend. Perhaps I shalt show you." He motioned the raven-haired warrior to a side chamber, a icy tomb lined in steal and ice to keep forth the chill. Thendrael motioned his confederate inside. "Finest cuts I tell ye friend. Ye'll nay be disappointed!"

"I would certainly hope not, now do tell all please."

Insuring not a eavesdropper upon their plot, Thendrael turned to his lord and master. His voice dropped to a low whisper. "I've news of the girl my lord. Then one that escaped our grasp but a tenday ago."

"Say on." Xantarex demanded of his informant.

"She rides north lord, to the hamlet of Grosvenson upon the River Vesper. And she is not alone, for she rides with a newfound company of heroes." The fat man spat forth, "I believe her stalwart knight travels with them, along with a paladin of Torm and a priestess of the moon goddess. Word speaks of two others, but I cannot confirm such."

"Well spoke Thendrael." Xantarex whispered darkly. "How fresh be such choice cuts?"

"They rode forth this morn at sunrise." The fat man grinned, taking a butchers blade to a rack of slaughtered lamb.

"Aye, fresh indeed." The black lord spoke. "Ye'll be paid well for this as always."

"My thanks good sir. Might I pray ask yer desires?" Thendrael asked.

"Send word to the others. We shalt shadow them to this hamlet refuge of their's. When they are at their weakest, only then we shalt strike them down." The master replied back, murderous intent in his eyes. "We ride in two days."

"Aye m'lord. In thy black lord's name it shalt be done."

Xantarex allowed himself a evil grin upon his face, slapping forth Thendrael upon the arm in appreciation. "Fine meats indeed sir."

"Only the best for my fine clientele, fare ye well good sir!"

The highway fared well, and by Tymora's luck the weather held fair as the company of the silver hope surged upon the Cross Road. They had made their way through Tantras the first day, and made good time toward the crossroad settlement of Hlintar, reaching it's outskirts on the second late eve. From there, they continued north, with fair skies and winds at their backs.

On the third night they camped along the road-side a dusty patch of earth oft used by caravans as a way stop before crossing over the Vesper, and into the rugged stone passes of the Troll Mountains. The evening twilight was fast upon them, dusk parting forth a sky alight in diamonds, blessed Selune waning on the far horizon. Twas a sight most awe-inspiring to witness, so far from home and comfort.

Sakura and Quiellie drew forth the first watch, sitting astride one another upon the dimly-glowing embers of their campfire. Even here amongst this idyllic plain, danger still lurked, a fact that sat heavy upon the sorceress's mind. Though the moon elf could well see in the moonlit eve as well as day, Sakura had conjured forth a soft light, cast upon a aquamarine pendant chained in silver around her throat.

"So, what think ye child?" Quiellie asked of the emissary's daughter.

"I have not words. Tis a beautiful sight the world is, away from the comforts of home. Such I could well live with the rest of thy days." She smiled, her face aglow in soft amber.

"Aye, we've been lucky so far. Such days like these are few and welcome indeed." The paladin responded back. "I pray ye not think ill of me for thy cold words of the past few nights. Such a weight I have always born upon me, thinking they would bring me strength of resolve."

"No. And ye would have the right of it regardless. Worry not." The young magi intoned back.

They sat together in contemptible silence for a long while, watching the eve pass away.

"You even been afraid?" The young lady asked of her commander. "I hear such holy warriors in the service of the gods are free of such."

"If ye mean the fear of such supernatural powers, ye've the right of it dear child. But true fear, nae, I think not any could bide themselves immune to such. Best we can do is to put such deep out of our minds, buried in righteous words and noble deeds alike." She looked to the sorceress. "Tis something you will learn, in the fullness of time."

"I surely hope so." Lady Sakura replied back. "I can't say that I'm not anxious though."

"As I always am, such feelings one gets used to when ye adventure."

"I hope yer right about that." The sorceress smiled gently.

"Sakura," Quiellie looked to the sleeping members of the company, in particular the young master Oliver. "Pray forgive if I pry, what think you of him?"

"Oliver ye mean?" Sakura replied back quietly. To which the moon elf only nodded. "Truth be told Quiellie. If he be a dashing rouge, tis my heart he has stolen forth."

"You love him don't you?"

"Aye, in my heart and soul. Yet – yet I fear I know not the words to express such. Perhaps when I know well his heart as well as my own, then I can speak them well and true." Sakura blushed gently in the pale moonlight.

Quiellie could only smile at her response. "Humans I tell ye, such amazing folk ye all are. One moment ye meet, the next ye fall in love, breading forth thy kin like rabbits in the woods."

"Surely ye tease." Sakura chuckled gently.

Quiellie shook her head, allowing a feigned look of hurt upon her face "Nae, I would never! For us, such courtships would take least a half-score of decades before we'd be even formally introduced to one another. Tis what ye folk would call 'getting to know one another'"

"Sure is nice though to have such longevity on thy side. Though I'd suppose I'd be very much a newborn in thy eyes."

"Indeed. Regardless though dear child, where I you, I would hold that love close to ye. Tis a power far greater than all the workings of steel, or might of Art. Twas the only hope I held for so long, and yet that love saw me through those darkest..."

Quiellie suddenly stopped her speech dead, mentioning quick and sure for silence. Sakura quenched her light, it's amber embrace winked fast from existence. "Horse steps, least four, perhaps five, a few hundred paces from here." The paladin whispered, pointing west toward the road.

"Shalt I rouse the others?" Sakura quickly replied in a hushed tone, amazed at her moon elven friend's senses even amongst such black night.

"Nae, not yet..." She focused, her keen hearing sharp and sure upon the prat-falls of iron-clad hooves. They were moving down the road, bearing south toward Hiintar. Then, they stopped, a nervous whine of beast erupted from afar. Had their camp been noticed?

Quiellie and Sakura laid low in the grass, a mere 300 feet from the road. In the star-soaked twilight Sakura's eyes could scare make out four figures, their forms covered in shadow and darkness. To Quiellie, they were as naked as a newborn babe. Armored men upon horses, stopped in the mid of the roadway. Adventurers like themselves? Or bandits seeking fast gold and quick blood? All mattered not to Quiellie.

"Rouse the others, quick and quiet now." She motioned to Sakura, which she fast did. Quiellie narrowed her gaze, muttering a silent prayer of revelation to Torm. Her sight widened, and from the four emanated the tell-tale aura of fell deeds. Evil indeed they were. Her mind at that moment was well made, as she released forth her blade, aglow in silver upon moonlight. An ancestral weapon passed forth to her by her human parents.

"Brigands!" She shouted forth. "In the name of duty and honor, the Company of the Silver Blade is upon you!" Twas a bold challenge which was switfly answered by the drawing of blades. At last, a real challenge laid forth before the company.

"Oi, and what be this, a little lass swinging a toothpick at us?" The lead man cursed back. "Strike her down lads!" They charged forward on horseback, hooves thundering across dew-misted grass. Their long swords, steel blades black as midnight, poised to spill elven blood.

From the darkness, a tendril of crimson flame lashed forth through the night, finding it's mark amongst one of the men. He screamed as his armor shot aflame, thrown hard from his mount as it panicked. Twas quick followed by a second orb of fire launched from the shadows, sending the blazing man down to hard earth, desperate to quench the fires. The girls had struck the first blow, their art striking true at those who sought their lives.

The lead brigand charged forth in blind rage, slashing his blade hard down upon Quiellie. His blow, though straight and true landed hard across the paladin's shield, it's clamor echoing into the night. He cursed his luck for such an ill-placed blow, wheeling his horse about to charge anew.

Arti laid quiet in the weeds, low and hidden by shadow and grass, he waited for his moment. He leveled a wooden crossbow, the same one Oliver bore at the battle of the Northspan, at his chosen foe. Steeling his nerves & mastering his fear, he let a quarrel loose, it's flight straight and true. The steel tipped bolt found it's mark square into the backside of the charging man. He dared not see where the blow had struck, lest his cover be undone, but the sickening thump of a man in war-steel to earth brought a certain comfort to the young mans face.

"Aye, well done lad!" Oliver cheered, for he saw the boy's bolt strike hard into the warrior's back, punching through leather and mail deep into his cold heart. Confidence jolted through him, and with a flourish, he drew forth both blade and knife. Surging forth, he leveled his throwing blade at the saddle of a third rider, and let fly. His blade flew wide of it's intended mark, bouncing harmless off the bridle.

"And here I thought your blades always found their mark." Sakura grinned. Now this was the sort of fight she had hoped to experience first hand, a struggle of wills and steel. She sent forth a prayer of thanks to blessed Mystra, as she conjured forth a ray of biting frost. Her spell once more found it's mark, sending icy cold into already singed flesh and bone.

The fourth rider charged Quiellie from her flank, striking down true upon her unguarded shoulder plate. Seeing pain shot forth in her arm, as is quick gave way under her blade's weight. She could feel blood dripping forth down her arm, her own blood.

"Quiellie!" Lalayla yelled back, as she shot forth a pair of spell-bolts at the monster who had dared strike their leader. The unerring missiles sparked forward, and dispersed harmless upon something unseen. She cursed Tymora's luck, and bolted a good twenty paces away to ready her next casting of Art. "Ware, that man is shielded!" She yelled.

The singed warrior pulled himself up, badly scarred from Sakura's song of fire and ice, he yet lived. He steadied his blade, and charged for the young lady's head. Sakura stumbled in terror, for twas no working of art she could cast to save herself now. Her mind screamed, by the gods was this to be her fate?

Twas not to be though, as a second bolt from the young rouge whistled through the night, finding home hard in his chest. Pain exploded in his ribs, and his lungs seared. His swing for the lady erred wide, leaving only a stinging cut at her breasts. He tumbled and fell, life fading from his eyes.

Iris rushed to her friends aid, cradling the sorceress in her arms. Twas thankful the wound was not deep, as Iris brought her hand upon Sakura's heaving chest. She prayed upon the moon goddess for comfort, to which was answered a wave of healing magic upon young Sakura. Her wound closed tight, leaving only a red scar and a most embarrassing tear across a perfectly serviceable top.

"My thanks." The sorceress winced in pain, taking but a few seconds to take forth breath.

"Thank me when it's over." Iris smiled back, as she rushed bravely into the midst of war.

Meanwhile, Quiellie and Oliver were holding their own against the remaining pair of riders. Though her armor had taken a beating, without the strength of her sword arm, she relied on her shield and the young master's skill of arms, shielding both from stabbing blows. Twas an intricate dance of life and death the two stepped forth, weaving and bobbing from man to man, striking down death. With the peppering zinging of bolts from Arti's hidden perch, the third man fell from his seat with the crunch of bone upon steel. An advantage the master swordsman follow upon in haste, driving his slender rapier into his chest.

Finally, the company turned their collective gaze toward the last survivor. Berift of horse and coursing with blood, he was surrounded. Twas to be no escape for the last of the four shadowy riders, who had come upon the company seeking fast treasure. In a pathetic display of abject cowardice, he begged their mercy.

"You, who would should us not mercy, now plead for it?" Quiellie shouted at the man, as the six circled about him. "I had well hoped for sterner stuff. Know ye well the name of the Company of the Silver Hope, for ye have been bested by them this night. Go back to where ye came, and trouble these lands no more!"

The man gathered what little wit he had about him and wisely fled into the night. The company looked to one another in relief. For they had at last past their first true test together. They had faced death square in his soulless eyes, and had triumphed. Twas a moment of grand jubilation indeed, a celebration of life and victory that lasted well onto dawn.

7

Courage. In any language, the word has a special ring to it, as much, I suspect, from the reverent way in which it is spoken as from the actual sounds of the letters. Courage. The word evokes images of great deeds and great character: the grim set of the faces of men defending their town's walls from raiders; the resilience of a mother caring for young children when all the world has seemingly turned hostile... Courageous people do not surrender hope.

Drittz Do'urden

Morning rose without further incident, and the company tended to the dual task of mending their own wounds, and burying the remains of their fallen foes. Most were unhurt save Quiellie, who had suffered a bad stabbing wound to her arm. Her silken undershirt was a blood-stained mess at her arm, one the young paladin remedied by cutting it free at the shoulder where her life blood had stained it, then using the silken scraps to mend her wound.

Other than but minor cuts and bruises, the company had faced their first test of battle, and emerged rather unscathed. Only a measly handful of silver and copper coin had been discovered along their remains, as well as the broach of shielding one wore tight upon his now bloated neck. Twas only a pittance of enchantment left within, much to the company's dismay. They allowed such a trinket to fall to the hands of their daft rouge. Yet for such lacking baubles of gold and silver, the experience of battle was well worth a few scars.

Arti was silent most the ride that day, for not once but twice that night had he been compelled to slay in defense of the order, a lingering ill that left his heart hallow. Though proud the company twas of his lucky heroics, for he had saved their skins, such he pray hoped not to do anew for fear of becoming some bloodthirsty villain or monster.

By high-sun they reached the banks of the River Vesper, her white-waters surging over vicious rapids, streaming west upon it's path toward the Dragon Reach. Grosvenson stood six score miles to the east, a two-night trek should the weather hold. To the north rose the grim-faced peaks of the Troll Mountains, a wall of iron and granite flanking the northern reach of The Vast. An ominous monolith amongst such picturesque beauty, the company though naught as to the origin of their name, nor the black hearted beasts that surely laired in it's heights.

They made fine time indeed upon the river's edge, and by the rise of the six day, they could see the farmlands that betrayed the small town to them. Twas not the farms that first caught their eye, rather the most curious site of two grand towers. Twas as if by the hand of the gods they had been placed, for a barn house laid crushed asunder by one.

"Did not the note mention something queer about this matter?" Quiellie asked of the others.

"My thoughts exactly." Iris replied, as she willed her robe of blending to life. Her skin took forth a paler tone, masking her half-drow heritage, though by whim of Art the others could see her for what she truly was . "I dread fear what we may find within, gods willing."

"Well, let's seek out this Ritifin fellow. Perhaps he can enlighten us more of this matter." Sakura said, spurring her mare forward into a gallop, her comrades close upon her heels.

Amongst the heart of Grosvenson laid the hall of learning, a open-air building held high by whitewashed fluted columns. As the band strode into town, they were quickly met by the town watch. Quickly the watchmen escorted the heroes into the grand hall, where the chosen regent awaited them.

Ritifin was a learned man, spouting forth thoughts and platitudes to himself, even at times answering his own questions. He seemed quite unnerved, naturally so when a pair of foreboding towers now stood planted amongst his town. He looked toward the company, and much to their collective surprise, the sage fast turned white with fear, springing upon a table as a scared cat. His hand trembling, he pointed it in the direction of the halfling lass.

"Away, away from me ye devil!" His murmured forth. Seeking now shelter beneath his desk. "Don't come any closer!"

"Lalya, perhaps tis best ye wait outside for us." Quiellie spoke to the wizard, to which she grudgingly obliged. What force had spooked him so much as to fear for his life at the mere sight of a cute halfling lass?

"Is – is it gone? Have ye turned her away?" Ritifin shook in shock, unwilling to reveal himself while the grinning devil remained

"Aye, she is well and truly gone." The paladin replied back. The sage of Grosvenson peeked from his hiding place, assured of the devil in their midst being no more, he brought himself out from his cowardly hiding.

"Thank goodness for ye all. I just hate, hate, hate those folk, little devils one and all of them I say!" His composure returned, albeit slowly.

"And just what devils ye speak of?" Sakura asked.

"Perhaps I should well explain. I've sure you've well seen the mages' towers over in the fields?"

The heroes nodded together. "Quiet the curious sight I would say. By what hand did they come to be so deposited here in your quaint village?" Oliver spoke up.

"That perhaps ye'd best sit down and enjoy some slake for." Ritifin offered up his remaining flask of clear whiskey.

As the sage well and long explained, twas a day as any other in Grosvenson some four-score days ago. The sun was shining, crops growing in Chauntea's gentle breeze. The newly appointed regent of the town was tending about his business, when a violent shutter quaked the town. In that moment, the first tower appeared, a grand dome of obsidian upon which a grand keep stood, walls, towers, and all square upon what remained of farmer McCully's chicken coop. Twas thankful that nae a soul, save for a few chickens (now quite surely dea were within.

A few minutes passed as Ritifin recalled, and he peered the shadow of a giant striding forth from the dust and ruins. Twas the size of an ogre, his clothes danced of inky darkness and shadow. The town guard took but a singular glance, and quickly fled in fear. Much to the surprise of many, he asked most calmly for the sage of the town, and though hesitant indeed he was to identify himself such, his fellow man betrayed his profession. Ritifin approached the giant, and asked his business.

"You are not Fulstrom. Where is he?" The shadowed giant growled. Fulstrom was the prior sage of Grosvenson, a mage of wisdom and great power in Art, oft to traveling to far-flung realms. As he attempted to return to the town, a gruesome sight as Ritifin remembered darkly, he was struck down by fell magics of destruction, being both disintegrated and destroyed simultaneously. Twas nothing left of the former sage of the town.

"Dead, my lord." Ritifin told the shadowy figure, his fear fast upon his lips

"How?"

"Twas struck down by a disintegrate and a destruction spell as he shifted back home. I and all saw such, for he exploded before our very eyes." The sage pleaded.

The shadowed giant pondered this fact. "I suppose he shalt not be returning then. So you are the new sage of this town?"

"Aye. They call me Ritifin." He said, knowing well the finer points of diplomacy, even amongst beings whom could well destroy the city with but a single word of power.

To his surprise, the shadow lord did not slay him on the spot. Instead he spoke, his commanding voice calm, yet cold. "Very well, Ritifin. I am Grishneck Oplehfang, Mage of Shadow and the ruler of this town. Let the people know this well and true, for my commands are but twofold. One – leave me and my tower alone. Two – pay a tribute of 100 gold a month. Beyond this, you are free to do as ye choose."

The sage bowed his obedience on the spot, ever careful nae to offend such a master of strange and powerful Art. Though fear bit at his lips, he was relieved to an extend, for the lord's demands were reasonable indeed.

Ritifin looked across to the champions as he completed his tale. "He looked at me for what felt like half an eternity, then turned and walked back into his keep. For a ten-day we feared attack from the dark lord, but none such came, and in time life returned to normal, at least for a time. Twas only a matter of days after before a second trembling came forth, and yet another tower emerged."

The sage shook anew in terror. He remembered the agents of that second dark keep, a pair of beastly looking gnomes, identical in looks as they walked out and introduced themselves as 'Thistle Twom and Thwom the Twins'. One claimed himself a cleric of some deity unknown upon our realms, the other a weaver of illusion. The sage of course, used to such dealings with beings from beyond Faerûn, Ritifin spoke on behalf of the town, proffering all in his power to aid them, so long as they conflicted not with the wishes of their new lord master.

The gnomish twins were not impressed. Before he knew it, his body seized, struck by a ray of enfeeblement from Twom, and followed in haste by a magic that made him shrink to the size of a babe. Then, piling upon his grand shame, the sage was commanded by Thwom's divine word to disrobe, and fast carried aloft on the winds of a dust devil. He was paraded through town like such a rag doll, till they dropped hi, in plain sight of all in town, into a pile of fresh horse dung. He trembled at the embarrassment of it all, thus was his panic at Lalayla's presence, for he dreaded such a fate.

Since then as the sage went on to explain, the gnomes sent forth a clockwork automaton, a being of steel and brass that posted a message for all to see. They were claiming dominion over the town and all within, all in the name of "good and happiness" as their edict so declared, and any whom disobeyed their wishes or whims would be put to death. From that point, day upon day such missives have come from both towers, one threatening the other. The gnomes demands carried forth by iron golems and other clockwork machines, and those of the shadow lord delivered by reaching tendrils of living shadow. Now Grishneck's tribute was due in two days, tribute from which if paid forward would account an act of open treason toward the gnome twins. Ritifin trembled in fear, desperate to bring end to this deadly impass.

"A tale of two towers indeed." Sakura spoke toward the sage. "The question though remains, how do we force them back, if we can at all?"

"Aye, I have thought long of such. And I believe well the answer lies within the towers themselves." He brought out a scroll of arcane power, notations and musings scrawled upon it's surface. Such arcana Sakura could make sense, but the magic presented before her was far beyond her powers.

"Tis a magic of estate transference dear girl. Powerful magic indeed, worked forth by masters of Art to move their abodes to other realms of existence. I believe such a spell, or a modification there of, brought their keeps to our world." His words spoke of a man high and wise in the Art, though even twas no master as Lady Cheryl was.

"Right, so we know how they got here. How do we send them back, and whom?" Quiellie asked of the sage cooly, demanding answers from the wizened sage.

"Oh don't be so daft girl." The sage dismissed her simple thought. "While I've nay pinned down the particulars of their Art, such I theorize would require a source of power to sustain it."

"A capstone perhaps?" Sakura added. The others watching the two workers of Art in silence.

Ritifin sighed, "Yes, one that anchors their magic to our realm."

"So." Oliver added forth to their plot, "We destroy the capstone, their tower returns to where it came?"

"Aye, I fear though an assault from outside would be neigh hopeless. Such magic would normally protect the structure from the environs of the plane around them, both from environment and by physical means. Ye could scarce shatter a pane of glass upon a window or tear loose the pages of a book within, let alone smash down a wall. Such high magics protect those within as well, and I'd well advise caution within."

Arti shuddered hard at the though, "Y-you mean our weapons would be u-useless within?"

"Aye, and likely our magics as well." Sakura dreaded, "We'll have to convince them to leave forth willingly. Tis the only way."

"A tall task don't you think?" Iris replied back.

"Quite so, but tis our only chance." Quiellie answered, her voice firm with resolution. "I will see not this town brought low by a petty squabble for power so long as we stand to protect it."

From outside the hall, Lalayla's voice barked out. "Come! Quickly now, we have trouble a'brewing!"

The company were fast upon their feet as they surged outward, weapons close at hand. The crowds had parted before the clockwork golem; a beast of metal and steel, cracking bolts of power dancing amok it's electrum frame. It stood large amongst the crowd, easily twice their size and girth, as it rested it's soulless gaze hard upon the company of the silver hope.

"I bring a message to the adventurers who might believe we that we do not know all." His mechanized voice graveled coldly as he raised forth his fist. With a burst of fire and flame it shot forth, tethered to sinew of cold steal stretching from it's arm. It landed harmless at Oliver's feet, and opened up holding a curious tube of papyrus. Oliver snatched forth the missive, then with a snap the hand retracted back to it's master. With a puff of steam and crackling thunder, he returned back the way he came, his task at end.

"Seems our friends have a message for us." He opened the scroll open, open which was scralled forth in bright prismatic inks of every hue and color.

Greetings from Thistle Twom and Thwom the Twins!

We be pleased as punch that ya'll are here to smile even and send that nasty Shadow Mage back home. He's Evil! Eeeevil! E V I L! He's a Shadow Mage, what do you expect?

EVIL EVIL EVIL EVIL EVIL EVIL with little pointy horns on top, and sharp fangs to go with it!

We're so happy that this ULTIMATE EVIL will soon be removed from this town. Towns are too fragile to be left next to a SHADOW MAGE for too long, ye know. Shadow Mages are evil, ye know. Evil things happen to evil people, ye know. He's dark, he's evil! We're good. We're good people. We're two good people and we both like you and hope you understand that our WILLFUL DOMINATION OF THE TOWN is a really good act. We come from a world of law. Things that are lawful live in the light. Lawfulness is goodliness. Shadows are evil. Inherent. It's a truth that is truth. IT IS TRUTH. IT IS TRUTH THAT PROVES ITSELF. We are correct. Support us!

We want this town, because every town has a hierarchy, and who better to hierarch the archy than a pair of hierophant gnomes? And who better to put us there than some heir-lights? Eh? Ah? Law is good, law is beauty. We are law. We are good. We are beautiful.

Happy!

DESTROY THE SHADOW MAGE BEFORE HE CONSUMES THE WORLD IN DARKNESS!

That is all.

Oh, and "we're Good"? That too!

Cheerio

Thistle Twom and Thwom the Twins

PS He's EVIL KILL HIM KILL HIM KILL HIM. Support us!

Quiellie then looked over the scroll, and shook her head in amazement. How could such an obvious ruse be scarce believed let alone laughed at at? She turned to the others, and saw Oliver gleaming over it's words, words that spurned forth truth in his mind.

"They speak truth ye know, those two." He said, his face freshly mesmerized by the wisdom of the gnome twins. "After all, they've well made their ploy known true and well. For all we know the mage in yonder tower could well be a Shadovar, a prelude to invasion from returned Netheril herself! I say we strike down the mage of shadow now, before all is lost."

"Oliver!" Quiellie shook him, "Are ye crazed? Come to your senses! There be no way that ye can believe such nonsense. 'Oh we are good, he's evil, kill in the name of good and happiness'. Have ye gone mad?"

"Far from it Lady Silverhope," He shouted back in anger, throwing the scroll down in open challenge. "You know not the threat such shadow magic poses! And the world can ill afford another mage who strikes from shadow claiming dominion over all. If anyone has lost thy wits dear leader, tis you!"

Sakura took hold of the scroll, looking upon the bark of which Quiellie and Oliver quarreled so fiercely. Suddenly her mind roared ablaze, the sickening pain of compulsion washing over her. She dropped to her knees, holding her hands hard upon her temple, begging Mystra for the pain to subside. Within the span of a long breath did her mind fire end, fresh tears soaked her face from the coursing mind-fire. "Read it not! His mind has been seized by some compulsion."

Iris took forth the scroll, paying care nae to look upon it's words, and tore it asunder. Quick she then was over to her beloved friend's side.

"Damnation upon you all!" Oliver's fury ignited ablaze as he drew forth steel upon the cloaked half-drow, his wits all but certainly not of his own. "Don't ye all see? You follow this bitch on this grand crusade to smite evil in the name of light and hope, yet she would see yourselves blinded to the truth! The mage reeks of evil in his heart, and I will nae allow him to..." His spewing venom subsided as a wave of weary slumber overcame him, cast forth by little Lalayla from a prepared scroll.

"Sorry about that folk. I should have suspected treachery as such."

"Tis well enough Lalayla dear, but what of his mind? Will such be whole when he awakens?"

Lalayla examined the squire as he rested fast asleep upon the marbled floor, she nodded to the others. "Aye, be thanking yer gods such is only slightly more powerful than the evocations I hurl forth, if I so dared dabble in such Art. Should only last half-a-bell at most."

"T-then should we expect such reply from the m-mage?" Spoke Arti.

"I don't doubt such, and if he holds true to his typical pattern, twould be soon enough." The sage of Grosvenson replied back.

Quiellie murmured under her breath, anger fresh off her lips. "Though I like it not, we'll wait, and hope he is willing to talk."

Iris's brow arched toward the distance, spotting a figure upon the horizon clamering toward the town square. "I think we're bout to get our answer. Over yonder?" Her head nodded toward where she glanced.

Lalayla pulled forth a telescoping spyglass from her pack, holding it tight to her eye. "Whatever it is, tis huge. A giant perhaps me thinks, but I can tell not from this far."

"Well then let us meet with this emissary of the mage, perhaps he will be in better mind to talk." Quiellie ordered of the the company, hoping her words stayed true. She turned to Sakura, "Might ye stay with thy protector till he awakens, insure he is of his right mind?"

She nodded gently, cradling his sleeping form close in her tender arms. He looked so peaceful aslumber, so innocent. With a mightly effort, she dragged him over to a nearby chair, planting him within.

Quiellie and the rest of the company awaited their gargantuan visitor, swords and spells sheathed yet close at hand. Twas a giant indeed, for he stood easily the size of three-fold man. His skin grey and cold, his movements stiff with rigor mortis. His cold, blank eyes betrayed the fact that this giant now lived beyond the reach of the grave, a creature of undeath.

By honed instinct, Iris and Quiellie alike saw to their symbols of faith, brandishing them forth in futile effort to drive the deathly gigas to flight, let he cause panic amongst the townsfolk. Yet, for all their devoted faith, twas of no use against a foe so great. Much to the company's surprise, it looked at the two heroes not in rage or hate, but more curiosity. For a undead giant, he seemed in quite the cheery mood, considering he had for one dead for so long. He looked at the company, chuckling deep upon their failings.

"Ahh..." his gravely voice boomed without malice or contempt. "You must be the adventuring band Master Grishneck has expected. Have you come to help rectify the matter that stands before all?"

"Quite the chipper chap he is." Lalayla whispered to Arti.

"We are, and you, surrender thy name will ye?" Quiellie spoke forth. Standing down upon her sword.

"Of course lass! My name is Gorgash, I was a stone giant warrior much like several of you. Well, minus the stone giant part."

"And why has this shadow mage brought you to undeath? Speak."

"I suppose there be no harm in such." The stone giant sat down amidst the town square. "I was killed fighting off a greater basilisk, who whom turned me to stone and then crushed my body to rubble. Thanks in part to a prior arrangement with Grishneck, he lifted the curse of stone from my body, then painstakingly placed me whole together anew before he reanimated me. I served well my seven years with him as agreed, but I find him a likable man, so I've stayed on as his seneschal, managing his servants and whatnot."

"Gorgash good sir, why go to all such trouble? Could thy master simply bring ye back to life anew? Such necromancy is an act most ill and foul indeed!" The paladin protested.

"Aye, and how is it that despite your animation, you seem quite right of mind?" Lalayla added.

Gorgash thought long and well for half an eternity before he answered with a question of his. "They have spells here that bring back souls into their mortal vessels? I shudder to think such a power exists." He shuddered at the ponderance, goosebumps rising forth. "As for my master reanimating my body, tis not so bad as you may thing. I'm still very much me after all, maybe perchance a wee slower than before, being dead and all. but think ye of such. I need not sleep, eat, or grow old. To have such a gift placed upon ye in exchange for a mere seven years of service, tis a fair trade indeed."

"And what of the folk of this fair town, innocent in this save for their rightful fear. Shalt your master leave them in peace as the sage has so prescribed?"

So the undead giant nodded, "Yes, without question. My master above all seeks solace and solitude. And a minor pittance of gold is but a minor price to put forth. Well within the means of even a humble hamlet such as this. Beyond such, my master will honor his word to the letter." He looked to the tower of the gnomes, "As for those two. I wish they would leave in peace, though I doubt not they will stir forth much mischief before."

"They – they threaten to raze this town to ash." Arti spurted out nervously. "Said if they try to pay y-your lord, that they would k-kill all."

"Oh my. Let us pray it comes not to such. My master is kind, but such he is well prepared to respond to open hostility with force." Gorgash sighed sadly.

"Such as thyself good warrior?" Asked Lady Siverhope.

"And others, many others." He stated, not as threat or bluster, but as a simple fact. "I dread what our master will do if brought to anger, but I can assure ye he will defend his realm with deadly power if such is needed."

"Gorgash, good sir." Quiellie's voice rose forth, "If it came to a choice and we were to ask either of ye to leave. Would you do so willingly?"

"Tis nae my place to say dear girl." The giant spoke with saddened eyes, "Such I would speak with my master upon. Might I ask why so would ye ponder asking us to leave, when all we ask is peaceful existence? Tis such a high crime in this realm?"

The elven paladin only smiled, "Nae good sir, I needed only but the truth of your words, and you speak rightly so. Although others are not as open minded as we, so long as ye keep thy word, peace you shall have." Her words brought a satisfied grin to Gorgash's face.

"Tis good we have such understanding, and I shalt be honored to speak to him on your behest, so ye may have time to tend to this task." He grinned, strange enough to see such a pleasant expression upon the face of one so dead.

Oliver's eyes slowly twitched open as the slumbering enchantment faded from him. Where was this place? And why did such horrid memory now surge wild through his mind. He turned, seeing the gentle vision of his forever, cradling him calmly in her arms.

"M'lady?" He asked, "Wha – what happened?"

She shushed him to silence, savoring the moment. "Think not of it." Lady Sakura whispered gently. "Your mind was taken by compulsion, a puckish magic cast by those gnomes. Twas only by Tymora's luck that Lalayla brought ye to slumber, I feared thy anger was quick to draw steel."

Oliver sighed deep, shame and regret clouding his thoughts. "Ye've watched over me since?"

So nodded the young sorceress. Stroking his chestnut hair gently aside from his face. "Aye, the others haggle even now with a emissary from the shadow mage's tower."

"I could nae help myself. That I could believe such spouted nonsense as truth, paired with such – such..."

"Anger?" She completed his thought.

Oliver nodded, "Aye. Forgive me if I've worried ye m'lady."

"Think not of it. They'll be time a plenty later to speak truthful of such frivolities." She smiled gently, a grin quick returned in kind by the young blademaster.

"I'd much like that." The young master smiled, thinking the moment opertune to steal forth a kiss. His thoughts were quickly dashed by the familiar clanking of steel upon marbled ground. He picked himself up from the couch as the others made their way back within.

"Oliver, yer well?" Their leader asked.

"Aye, Sakura told me all. I pray yer pardon Lady Silverhope for thy actions."

Quiellie nodded, "Ye were not of thy own mind, besides, we have nae the time for such talk. Be you both ready to wage forth for peace and hope?"

The two nodded back, sharing forth an eager look with one another. "I do hope we'll have dealings with those twined bastards soon?" Oliver asked eagerly of the company.

"Right lads and lasses, now let's go get us some gnome hides to tan!" Lalayla shouted in impassioned glee. Eager to pay a few curses of her own upon the dastardly twins. A spell to muddle their wits, and a curse to turn them to harmless pigs. She grinned long at the thought.

Boldly the company of the silver hope rode toward the gray stone keep of Thistle Twom and Twhom the Twins, their home resting upon a daunting monolith of granite, cut perfectly smooth by an impossible hand. A spiraling ramp cut long and deep, spiraling once it's length from ground to top. Upon to stood their hold, a concentric central tower protected well by twin stone walls, from which six-fold smaller towers jetted forth. Banners fluttered gentle in the afternoon breeze, a confusing standard of interwoven black and white lines.

As they approached the gatehouse, the horses began to panic wildly, nearly throwing their riders from their saddles. Fear surged through them, fear of something unnatural in the air.

"Best we leave our steeds here?" Iris asked of the band, having dropped her magical guise back to her familiar ebon-skinned self.

"Aye." Lalalya responded back, scanning the forlorn keep with a critical eye. "I think we've come upon the bounds of the transference, where their plane of existence crosses over into our own."

"Right. Best we be upon our guard." Oliver quoted.

Sakura, her heart light and unafraid, stepped into the invisible boundary first. There twas no fire, no compulsion of mind or body, yet she sensed a certain quickness about her. From behind, her companions appeared to move in slow motion, her own heart racing to catch up to the conditions of the plane. One by one, they crossed forth into the realm, their movements catching up with her own.

Lalayla was last to enter, "My, a most interesting experience indeed. Seems time is hastened in this realm. Such we may use to our advantage I do hope."

Oliver drew forth his silvered rapier, swinging it forth with lightning swiftness. "Aye, yer right little one." Quick as he flung his blade in wild flourish, he placed it swift and sure back into it's sheath.

Together, they walked toward the entryway. A grand gatehouse firm upon the outer wall. A massive gate of wood bound by iron stood before them. A daunting challenge they faced. Swiftly, the young paladin stepped forward, seeing a small groove upon the gate akin to a servitors entry. She rapped upon the door thrice, and waited.

From behind, a tiny voice peeked out a spyhole in the door. "Who is it?" It asked with all haste.

"The company of the Silver Hope. We wish and pray parley with thy masters regarding the well-being of this town." Quiellie spoke boldly. "And would speak with them in the name of joyous good."

A tense moment passed, and twas naught but silence.

"Maybe h-he ran off?" Arti quietly blurted forth. "Maybe for it's masters."

"Or to summon warriors to slay us." Oliver quickly added as well. His gaze weary.

After the span of a few long breaths, the servitor gnome peeked back through the door, as a mechanism clanked into place. The cyclopian gates began to part, opening forth inward, revealing a grand courtyard in the shadow of the central spire. Twas an immaculate garden of wild blossoms and creeping vines, tended well by heartless machines. At it's heart, a small fountain over which hung a statue made from shimmering brass, depicting two triumphant gnomes, with wand and tome in hand.

"Right, in ya go. Best not to keep our masters waiting!" A gnome made of metal and intricate clockwork gears ushered them forth. Twas others, scurrying about like many rats here and there. Tending to the needs of the keep with clockwork precision.

"The twins I would presume." Oliver thought aloud of the statue.

Arti looked over to the fountain, heeding not the possible danger that lurked about them, he took his trusty dagger and plunged it, hand and all into it's crystal clear waters.

"Arti!" Quiellie called out to the boy. "Careful lad. You know not if such is safe."

"B-but – mom and dad always said such was for luck." He looked up to the moon elf. Sadness in his eyes.

"Aye, and luck we'll have, but ye need be more cautious lad." She looked down upon the youngling, and smiled. She sensed a hidden strength within the lad, a strength of courage deep within him, yearning release.

"Come along!" The servant called, "Lots to see, lots to do!" He hurried them along to the foot of the tower. Where they were greeted by another pair of like-shapped clockwork beings whom fast swung the doors wide before the company.

The entry was less an expected hall of meeting, but a grand workshop where clockwork machines worked upon other such machines. From grated coverings at their flanking feet, they could see the doom that laid beneath them. Golems of iron and silver, dozens if not more, tended to by other clockwork servitors. An army below their very feet, ready to lay waste to all whom opposed the master's chaotic whims.

"Selune save us!" Iris looked down as she gasped in horror, clutching tight her silver mark of the moon goddess upon her breast. "Tis an army."

"All the well we mind our words and deeds." Oliver replied back grimly. "I dread what waste they could lay on a small hamlet, let alone our home if they so wished."

Quiellie called for silence as the clockwork gnomes led them to a wall upon the northeastern face of the workshop, solid as any other. The gnome placed his hand upon the wall, feeling for a certain point amongst it. Twas an unnatural site to then see it's seeking hand pass through the wall as if twas nothingness, which it did twice more. Upon it's third passing, the wall vanished, revealing forth a long spiraling stairwell cloaked behind illusion. The company pressed upward.

The second level of the tower was much as the first, though amongst clockwork automatons was beings of more organic nature; kobolds, orcs, and even the occasional ogre labored her mindlessly, unheeded of the company or their arms. Slaves, one and all they were, a thought that held grim to Quiellie and the others.

From their right, they heard forth a grating scream, a howl of mechanical pain. Within one of the laboratories, they heard screams. Hurried words of panic and doom coming from several clockwork gnomes.

"Look out, it's loose!" Shouted one, "Shut it down! Shut it down!" Barked another. A clockwork golem, much akin to the beast who had handed forth their initial message was running amok in panic. They could see parts of the mechanized beast stripped away, as if it was in the process of dismantlement. Such was the only glance the company could quick gain, as the horror turned and charged at them, smashing it's bulk through the narrow entryway, it's mechanized scream echoing pain-wracked anguish in it's wake.

"At him!" Quiellie cried out, the company fast on their feet in battle.

The golem lifted it's massive bulk from the rubble with ease, it's innards sparking with lightning and rage, already well damaged from whatever work was being done. Boldly the paladin charged forward upon twisted rubble, hoping to strike true into it's exposed core.

Her blade found it's mark, yet her daunted strength failed her, her blade barely denting the armored hide of the beast.

"Torm preserve us!" She cursed her luck, such a blow surely would have punched steel and flesh with ease. Even if twas by magic that he resisted her strike, she held forth a blade of enchantment. Hopelessness fell upon hard upon her heart, such was her wielding now little more than a club in the path of a rampaging tarrasque, a beast of cold steel and icy logic.

The metallic golem smashed at her again, it's movements swift and agile. Twas only by fortune that her armor and her faith held, as a mighty blow struck hard upon her shield. The sheer power of it's clubbing blow knocked her hard to the ground at the priestess' feet.

Iris reacted quickly, invoking Selune's favor as she tried to conjure a spell of protection. To her horror though, her spell fizzled without effect. She cried out, "My magic works not!" Worst of all, she now laid before the maddened beast of steel and iron, a fragile lass ill suited to take such a blow.

"Then maybe this will!" Lalayla charged forward, firing a pair of spell-bolts from her outstretched hands. Her bolts struck, stabbing force bursting hard into the metal beast. It stumbled back, a fury of steam escaping it's body. She grinned as it wheeled back, soulless eyes locked grim upon the halfling lass.

Through all the fighting, Arti had managed to dart tbehind the beast of cold iron, a plan fast in his head. He steeled himself, swallowing his fear, and lept at the golem's exposed backside, grasping tight to his exposed inner mechanisms. The beast thrashed, leaping lightnings shocking at his body, sending raw pain crashing through his veins. It was desperate to throw the adventurous rouge from his back, but through all, the boy's grip held firm. With a heroic thrust, he stabbed his trusty knife hard int it's exposed heart.

The beast roared in mechanical agony, as gear and gyro ground and sparked. Blackish liquid gushed forth with the familiar scent of oil, and the golem writhed in pain if such it could be called so. In the mere breath of an opening the company had, Sakura threw forth an orb of flame as Arti threw himself clear of the clockwork beast, landing with a sickening thud against the rubble strewn floor.

Her mystic flame struck true, lighting the automaton from within. A sickly smell as metal and flame danced upon one another. Agony raked the beast as it burned, eventually slumping to the ground, it's vital force at last squelched in fire and flames.

Tense moments passed, and the heroes of the hour waited. There was no movement from the beast, no sign that the clockwork horror yet lived. In times, it's keepers sprung forth from hiding, examining the wreckage. Piece by piece they picked the smoldering beast apart, more curious as to the cause of the clockwork automation's rage than the folk who had bested it.

Quiellie picked herself up, a slight bruise upon her temple from the golem's crushing blows.

"You're hurt." Iris said, tending to the paladin's injuries.

The moon elf waived her away. "Tis nothing serious. Tend to the lad will ye." She looked upon the others, scanning them for hurts beyond her own. "All well?"

"Aye." The halfling lass spoke forth. "But we were lucky that time, but worse our protective magics fail us here. Blasted, I should well have seen this coming." She was incensed with herself, and her shortcoming to foresee such a complication.

Arti was huddled in the corner of the hall, slumped down behind rock and rubble. He was shaking like a leaf in the wind, his hair stunk of fresh ozone and his head was badly bruised from the fall, wobbly peeking over the wall of debris.

"Arti." Oliver went over to him. "It's over lad."

"Is-is it d-dead?" He trembled, the world about him spinning in dizzying circles.

"Aye, and thanks again to ye lad." Sakura put a gentle hand on his arm, allaying his fears as Iris tended her magics to his wounds. Luck was well upon his side this night. "You've quite the knack for saving our skins."

He smiled faintly, taking the sorceress's hand as she cradled him close.

"Oh... I-I'm just lucky." He stammered back quietly before he finally fainting amongst friends.

"Indeed." Quiellie added. "Let's just pray our luck holds."

8

"Dream delivers us to dream, and there is no end to illusion. Life is like a train of moods like a string of beads, and, as we pass through them, they prove to be many-colored lenses which paint the world their own hue."

"What news?" Xantarex demanded, his black-mained warhorse uneasy. The riders of Bane, twelve-fold in number had rode hard from the south, cutting hard across the land in hunt of the Company of the Silver Hope. Amongst the twelve beyond the black lord and his trusted lieutenant, many were mercenaries hired for a handful of gold and gems each. Hardened men without consciousness, bribed by greed and gold to slay in the name of the black hand of Bane. Their ride had brought them here, to Grosvenson and it's twin towers.

"Lord." Their tracker, a cloaked man garbed in black by name of Solvanar, turned to their dread lord. He pointed north, until the grand keep of Thistle Twom and Thwom the Twins. "There my lord, in the northern keep. The scent of their mounts is upon the wind."

"And of the people of this backwater?" He asked coldly.

"A simple folk. None within pose a threat to us." The masked ranger replied back.

Xantarex looked down upon the city, dream thoughts racing hard through his twisted psyche. Here he held now the leash upon which to master these, children. They had rode here, on some fool's errand to save these people, to save them from fear. Fear would be their new master now, so the raven-haired man thought, for he would see them broken upon the might of Bane.

He looked to the balding Calishite. "Valkris, take forth six men. Strike fear into their hearts, yet slay them not." He pointed to the town square below, an unspoken command to drive the people to that point.

His eyes lit red with the tang of blood, "Aye lord" He motioned a handful of mounted men to his side, and rode forth down the hillside, intent on his grim duty of driving the iron spikes of fear into these backwards townfolk.

"The rest of you, with me. Find whom leads this town, and deliver him so I may judge his strength."

Upon a thunderous charge of galloping hooves they stormed, riders in the dusk, bearing forth the twin masters of doom and fear.

Upon a dead gnarled elm, a silver-crested hawk cawed in the night, gazing upon all. A grim portent indeed.

Twas dark in the upper chamber of the keep, a perpetual twilight masking forth all before the company in inky darkness. They had climbed the stair here, thinking themselves upon the upper halls of the keep, yet there lied naught but black marbled floor, and empty nothingness. Even the stair from which they came had vanished to the black void.

"What be this place?" Oliver quietly asked.

"I know not, and I enjoy it even less so." Sakura replied back, staying close at hand to her companion. "Can ye see anything Iris dear?"

Iris shivered, covering herself for fleeting warmth. "Nay, this darkness. Tis unnatural, and this chill."

"Sharp watch all." Ordered forth Lady Silverhope. Blades and spells were readied all about. Yet the darkness ruled over all, a deathly chill abiding with it.

"W-why is it s c-cold..." Arti shivered in the dark. His bow arm trembling in fright.

"Easy lad. Easy" Oliver consoled the young rouge. Yet even he could feel the tinge of fear upon his heart. "We'll find way out of this." So the knight-squire hoped, lending a silent prayer to the gods above.

In but an instant, the world about them turned to blinding fire. A gouting spire of amber flame and heat flared forth, entrapping the company tight within it's ring. Heat shot through then, sending raw pain through all. Only then, did they see the face of their doom.

A great face loomed large through the flames, unfazed by the torpid inferno. Twas reptilian, it's massive scales a deep ruby red, and it's eyes, those eyes blazed with the fires of the nine hells. Frozen in fear were all but Quiellie, but all knew the death that had so silently now stalked them, for they had met the gaze of a red wyrm.

They had naught but time to scream, as the dragon spouted flame upon all. Their world became fire for but one long breath before all turned to darkness.

Sakura's mind raced, as all was black before her. Twas this death? For all the fear that had gripped her heart in it's fiery talon, she had been lucky the red wyrm had granted them a swift end. Then she thought again, surprisingly so if she was now long and truly dead. Why would a great red dragon, a beast known for it's cruelty and malice, with all the evil in it's heart, why grant such a merciful fate as a quick kill? And how did such not come to the company's notice, not by sight nor sound, nor aura of evil.

Something was amiss, for twas not the spectral realm of souls she so had though. Though all was dark, she felt first herself, well and whole she way. She smelt not the brimstone of dragon's fire, nor the stink of charred flesh upon bone. At last, she reached her hand to the ground at her feet, smooth marble she felt upon her hands.

Twas only then did the young Lady Aiestrella knew the truth, as she summoned a spell of light.. The others laid like so, knocked to unconsciousness. Illusion she cursed darkly, this whole place reeked of it, and they had been taken for fools by it once more. She shook Oliver, trying to rouse the warrior awake.

"...Sakura?" He asked weakly. "...are we dead?"

"Nae, another trick of those damnable gnomes no doubt. Help me rouse the others."

The darkness had abated, leaving only a small chamber no more than a few-score feet round across. How completely their working of shadow and illusion had thrown their minds a'wander, Sakura could only be impressed. If only they would work their tricks to more productive ends.

Arti was the last to be roused, as the others knew well his tendency for panic. His eyes shot open, screaming for the comforts of home and family. Painful memories of fire and flame setting his home ablaze tore through him.

"Miri! No! Mama! Papa!" He screamed out, squirming about to rush toward sights unseen in his mind.

Iris worked forth a muttered prayer to Selune, begging her calm & grace upon the young man. Her enchantment took hold, easing the fear from his eyes and the quaking from his heart. Twould take them know long to ease the tears that streamed free from his gentle orbs.

"The-they're gone? Aren't they?" He cried out.

Iris held him close, urging him to peace. "I fear so. Yet here you live still. Now, take hold of thy grief, let it not master ye." She smiled, wiping away the hurts that ached young Arti's soul, hurts freshly wounded by the dragon's false flames.

"Come now, I think we're close." Quiellie steeled herself, picking forth from the marbled floor her heart shield. She urged the company onward and upward.

The peace of night was shattered with the screams of terrorized men and women, as the riders of Bane struck forth with blade and torch at hand, setting flame to many an abode. The cackled and cursed as men and women scrambled for their lives like so much wild cattle, beasts which the men of the black company now sought to corral.

Many a guardsman stepped forth, to battle sword and flame alike, unwilling to let such naked aggression pass. They wore only courage upon their chest, for the mail and leather proved little comfort against the slaying blades of those whom served none but Bane.

By the time all was done, a score of guards laid dead or dying. The good folk of Grosvenson were herded like sheep toward the square. Where Xantarex stood high, steed and all upon the Halls of Learning, as two brutes drug forth Ritifin the sage. They threw him to the ground hard, as the black hand of Bane loomed massive above.

"Why, why do you do this to us?" He pleaded to Xantarex.

"Because my good sir." His voice a razor upon blood-stained silk. "There are certain folk whom we have dealings with, a band of heroes to which you are well aquainted. Folks whom at this moment no doubt seek death and glory within the tower over yonder."

"But, why drag us into this? We've enough problems as is!" The sage protested loudly. "First a mage of shadow, then a pack of crazed gnomes, and now you!"

"And problems ye will find a dozen-fold should ye continue your yammering. Our task here is simple, and my command to you is thusly so." Xantarex stated coldly. "After all, such heroes will surely seek their just reward will they not?"

"But – but what if their already dead? Or something happened to them?"

"A shame then such a fate would be? For if such has befallen them, and they return not by dawn." He paused, casting an iron gaze upon the crowd, fortelling impending doom. "You and your people will suffer."

Silence drowned over all, save the crowing of ravens in the night.

The company walked upon the grand stair leading to the heart of the tower keep for what seemed forever, much to their pain & discomfort. Their feet ached, the weight of steel and arms bore hard upon as the trudged forth.

"By the blasted gods above, does this stair go on forever?" Sakura fumed.

"Oh come now little lassie." Lalayla smirked. "I sure wouldn't want ye to strain your little legs now would we?"

"And your one to talk!" The sorceress harped back. "You scarce have to carry a quarter what we..."

Lady Silverhope cleared her throat, quite loudly ending complaint. "Enough of the bickering, both of you! We've neigh time for such childish antics."

"Then why don't we least take pause to catch our wind?" Oliver spoke back, exhaustion long in his face, though he did well to hide his discomfort. He sat upon the narrow stair, leaning back upon the wall, a wall he promptly fell through with a yelp.

"Cursed illusions!" He flapped forth.

The others passed through the ghostly wall, entering forth a small domed chamber. At it's heart lied a grand crystal, pulsing with arcane power. A beating heart which held the tower upon their world.

"The capstone." Lalayla, the more experienced worker of Art, immediately recognized it for what it was.

"Good." Quiellie drew steel, "Now let's be done with it!" Before she could burst forward, she heard the sheepish tones of two gnomes, identical in look and garb to one another.

"Oh no, no-no! We can't just up and go?" Both spoke in rhyme.

The moon elf glared, keeping her sword pointed defensively at the two. "Thistle Twom and Thwom I presume?"

"The one and the same!" Both rhymed forth with a sly grin. "The same and the one!"

Quiellie stepped forth, her blade low. "Then tell me, oh lords of law and happiness. Why do you threaten the innocents of Grosvenson so?"

"We, threaten?" Said Twom, "Threaten, we?" Thwom added. "We want people to be happy! Happy happy indeed!" Both shouted forth in glee. "We dominate so we can make people happy and free! Happiness is joy! Happiness is wonder! Don't ye agree?"

"No." The paladin gazed hard upon them. She could sense not the tangible essence of evil about them, yet their words rang true of the pure chaos within them. "You throw people's lives to chaos and ruin. Such is not the way of those espousing of law and goodness."

"But why people want misery?" Thwom asked, followed in quick turn by his excitable twin. "Misery is bad! We bring forth good! Good and joy!"

"A-and what do you c-call what you've done to u-us?" Arti stammered in anger.

"A joke and a jest!" They spouted back. "We mean no harm."

"No harm? N-NO HARM?" The young lad was enraged. "You d-dare say threatening our lives b-brings you no harm?"

Oliver placed a stern hand on the raging thief, keeping Arti from lunging toward a quick grave. He then turned, as their fearless leader addressed the gnomes again.

"Listen, I know not what realm you come from, and I care little from what ye make of it. But here we value the choices we each make, weather for good or ill. Your brand of joy and happiness is naught but chaos amongst our realm. For that, we ask ye return to where you come, leave these people to seek joy of their own accord."

Twom looked to Thwom, thinking over their plight. "But we like this world! We want only to spread joy and glee to all! Joy is good! Happy is good!"

"Yet their must be countless other worlds ye can spread your kind of glee to is their not?" Sakura asked of the duo. A idea planted in the seed of her mind. She hoped to the lady of mysteries such would work.

"Hmmm... we could could we?" Twom inquired with Thwom. "Could we we could?"

"Tis like speaking with brainless ogres." Oliver sighed quietly to the others.

Lalayla paced, annoyed at the deadlock. "Aye, and we'd best break this stalemate soon. I say we blast em and be done with it!"

"You know, there's a place I know." Sakura sat over by Twom, urging him forward. "Joyless place it is, one full of fire and brimstone, teeming with joyless souls that do nothing but hurt and torment. Such a place would be perfect to spread your, shalt we say, most unique joys to that world."

Oliver and the others looked to their erstwhile companion, "What are ye doing m'lady?" He whispered.

"Trust me." Sakura winked back, much in the same way Oliver had done so. And trust in her ploy he did, stepping away.

"Oooohhh..." quothed Thwom, "Ahhhhh..." pestered Twom. "Do tell more!" They both asked in rhythmic unison.

"Now now, it wouldn't be fun if I spoiled all for ye now would it?" She smiled impishly, hoping they would nae catch onto her ploy. The twins looked to each other, much liking the idea the sorceress had planted in their heads.

"I like it." Twom spoke forth, quickly followed by his brother "Ye like to come with?"

"Oh goodness, I could never hope to match your joyful enthusiasm. Besides, someone must stay here to spread joy and happiness here, and whom better to do so than us?"

"Yes yes! Happy days indeed!" Thwom cheered, proceeded in kind by Twom. In quick order, they turned to the capstone. Speaking forth words of power, they tuned the pulsing crystal with eldritch power, causing it to beat and throb. "Pretty lady visit us one day?" They said in unison.

"Of course." Sakura smiled, "Ye both fare well now?"

"Aye, we shall." Twhom grinned. "Don't forget us now!" Twom smiled as the keep began to shudder gently.

Quiellie motioned the order to flight, "Best we be leaving now." A swift command which the beguiling sorceress was quick to follow. They fled down the stairs, as fast as their legs could carry them, through the labs and workshops, and outward to freedom. Behind them, the gray stone keep faded into the night, as if it twas never so, leaving only the grand mound of cyclopian stone behind.

They breathed a sigh of collective relief, looking down upon Grosvenson in the evening sky. Oliver turned to Sakura, rather curious as to how she had convinced them so. "One thing, just where did you send them?"

"Well, considering their penchant for contradiction, I suggested they visited the most joyous place in the planes." She blushed sheepishly, more so for the fact that she had pulled off such a deception.

Lalayla looked to Sakura, her eyebrow cocked high. "You didn't?"

Sakura only smiled, "You said so yourself, a master of Art keeps her secrets."

All looked to one another, and burst forth into rolling laughter. Surely Thistle Twom and Thwom the Twins would be well busy spreading their unique brand of joy and happiness, deep upon the brimstone depths of the Nine Hells. Such though was a secret only known and long kept amongst friends.

The short ride back to Grosvenson was merry and full of cheer. The company had faced death and fear in the face, and had come forth triumphant. Though late as the hour was, they were well surprised that the town square laid bare, save for a single torchlight hanging from the hall of learning. Had they been within the tower that long? Without thought or heed, the company dismounted at the marbled archway of the hall. Quiellie entered first, calling forth for the sage.

Twas not he that answered, but a voice, black with malice amongst the darkened hall. A voice that brought crushing fear to Sakura and Oliver alike.

"So, the much vaunted Company of the Silver Hope." The dark knight of said coldly. From the shadows, another cloaked man stepped forth holding the quivering form of Ritifin in his powerful arms, a black blade hard to his throat. Others quick followed, striding forward with blades bared upon all sides. They were surrounded, trapped as a wild beast in a cage. "I must admit, I was hoping for a bit more guile."

Quiellie drew her sword, the azure glow of enchantment lit the room in it's light. Her drawing was quickly answered by the unsheathing of blades all around. They were trapped within.

"I'd must admit, I was hoping just for your little bitch of a sorceress and her friend, but to see a moon elf in service to our sworn enemy, and amongst a half-drow. Oh my this is rich indeed." He lofted his axe upon his shoulder. "Now, you will lay down your arms, and any workings of magic you bear upon you and toss them before you. Slowly now, or your trusty regent dies first."

"Do as he says." Oliver spoke quietly, throwing his blade down upon the ground, it's steel clanging hard upon marble. As he had shown well before, there was no fear in his eyes.

The others followed suit in turn, placing sword and staff alike upon an ever- deepening pile at the feet of the dark knight. Satisfied as to their compliance, he ordered Ritifin forward, taking the sage hard by the neck, lifting him off his feet with practiced ease, choking life and breath alike.

"Now, you will give me the girl. Do so, and I will spare this one's life. Deny me such, and he shalt die."

Ritifin gasped, life fast fading from him. A black raven cawed in the chamber, fluttering down in panic to the stone floor before.

"The problem here, oh good sir is twofold." The raven spoke, much to the amazement of all as a sudden wind burst forth, twinkling starlight and bolts of creeping power shot forth from the form of the black raven as it twisted and writhed, transforming itself into the shape of a beautiful woman, a form well familiar with the company. She crackled with awe and majesty, a silvered staff grasped in her hands dancing with silver-white fire.

"First, ye dare strike an innocent city with your dark schemes, yet you fail to see to see betrayal when such stares you in the face." She lifted off her feet, rising forth into empty air, power surging about her. Such twas the wrath of all-mighty Mystra, her Art promising only certain doom.

Xantarex looked upon the emissary, and for the first time, knew the true grasp of fear upon his blackened heart.

"And second, yet worst of all. Ye dare such dark tidings at my daughter, and the people that I love? Did you think not the endless the dooms I could visit upon ye forever more?" For the first time in her life, Sakura heard her mother's voice grow cold, sending chills down her spine.

"B-by the gods." Quiellie stammered in awe at the unleashed might of the high emissary, nae, the very presence of holy Mystra in their wake.

"And lastly, if I may be so bold to add." The cloaked man spoke as he unveiled himself, his voice now the familiar honeyed words of Lady Dawnbringer, "Did you really think that we were not watching either?" The false form shifted to her true self, as she fast swept her twin bastard swords toward the raven-haired warrior. Fabled Deathstryke hummed with it's trademark emerald hue, a blade of eldritch power; twinned by Shadowmorn, the ghostly twin blade of shadow and sorrow.

One man, a hired blade bought by the riders for gold and glory, charged forth, hoping to catch the emissary unaware. A mistake Lady Cheryl quickly reproached with a single word of power. He seized in mid-flight, trembling horribly as his mind and soul blazed with Mystra's power. He scare had time to scream as the man ran in terror absolute. Twas a fool's error that the others quickly shied clear of repeating, fleeing the hall for their lives in terror at the horrible power before them.

"And now you Xantarex, son of Mordran and Fyel of Thay. He who's heart lies as black as midnight." The emissary lowered herself, landing gentle at the feet of her hated foe. "You who have so long served the black hand. Yet now, I give ye this lone chance, a chance to be free from his tyranny, to make well and atone for all ye have done."

Cold rage swept through his mind, a furor brought to the surface at the mere mention of his parents. "How... DARE YOU invoke their names in vain." He urged to strike the bitch down, yet his steel discipline failed him. His rage was white in his face, stymied by the emissary's protective spells, he could nae bring himself even to strike.

"Such rage, surely twas nae what they wished for you." She looked deep into those steel eyes, piercing the depths of his heart and soul. Her voice was gentle again. "To be a slave of a tyrant for so long."

The blackguard said nothing, his silence betraying his answers.

"I know well the hurt, to be master to one you wish not. To hold your destiny in thy own hands, free from his black hand. Such ye can hold again if ye only ask Xantarex of Thay."

He trembled, his armor cracking under the heavy weight of guilt and bad consciousness. "He – he is my master, now and forever. I will NOT betray my lord." He shouted forth in defiance.

"But tis your lord has betrayed you Xantarex." The emissary sighed. "He is the one that has betrayed you to endless servitude! He is the one that has tasked you to endless bloodshed, for what end?" She focused anew upon his thoughts, turning his mind inward toward the countless savageries he had committed in Bane's name. "All those people. See now their faces, see now the lives you have taken in his name. Is this the lord you so desire to serve unto your end? Tell me!"

Xantarex buckled to a knee, dropping forth his great axe upon the marbled floor. The pain of memories racked his brain, a torrential flood of emotion, of hurts long suppressed in black thoughts now screamed forth for release, breaking through the hardened steel of his black heart. In time, twas too much for one whom served no god but Bane to bare.

In amazement to the company, the raven-haired man began to weep.

Cheryl smiled, gently embracing the fallen knight of Bane in her arms. Twas only the first step in what the emissary prayed to the goddess for his eventual redemption. "That's good. Though be there much you have to answer for, you do so know of thy own mind and heart. That, is but the first step in being truly free. Now, go with yon lady, and return to the city." With a nod, she conjured forth a gate of shimmering radiance, bathing the chamber in golden light. Deed stepped through, with the fallen lord in tow.

"Need ye a path home as well dear?" She turned to Sakura, a bright smile on her lips.

"Nae mother, we've much to finish up here, and I wish only to see it through to it's end." She smiled back in satisfaction.

"My beloved children, I am so very proud of ye all this day. I trust ye'll have many a story to tell when you return." She smiled gently as the emissary embraced her beloved daughter, kissing her gently upon the forehead. She had faced her fears for the first time, and emerged victorious.

Sakura blushed, holding her mother close in her arms. "Believe me, we've quite the tale to tell."

Mother and daughter smiled before she herself stepped into the gateway. A rousing exultation was shared by all.

Night slipped by, and for the first of many a night the company slept in plush beds. All save for one, for Sakura had taken leave of her quarters, and rode alone to the grand mound where the keep of Thistle Twom and Thwom once stood. She looked up, gazing Selune in all it's radiant glory upon midnight. She looked up, her eyes shining bright and pure upon moonlight.

"I thought I might find ye here." Oliver's familiar voice asked softly, as he rode on horseback astride the sorceress.

"Tis the only place where I could think, thanks not to Lalayla's growling."

"Aye." He chuckled as he dismounted, sitting down next to his charge. "I guess we're even now. Ye saved me the other day my lady."

She blushed in the moonlight, her face bright and true. "I did only what I could do for you. Those monsters muddled thy mind, tis no fault that could be placed upon you."

"And yet still, even when my heart turned dark, yet ye you still stood by me. Pray tell me why so?"

Sakura looked to him for the length of several long breaths, gazing into those soulful hazelnut orbs. She placed a hand on his leg, and only smiled. "I know not, but – ever since I first set eyes upon you, I've wanted to know ye. I wanted to know this fine young man long from Cormyr who dared all without want or need. Might ye accept such as my truth?"

Oliver looked upon her back, and took her hand gentle upon his own. "Aye, and willingly so my lady. For if I were but a rouge, tis thy heart I have stolen."

Sakura laughed playfully, amused by his poetics. "Ah, but a thief ye're not Oliver." She looked down, her hand trembling softly in his. The words, she begged quietly to the gods for the words that her heart wished.

"Sakura." His gaze met hers anew. He swallowed his fear, and told her ever so softly. "My lady."

She embraced him in a passionate kiss. Tears streaming free from her face. For the first time, she knew well the beating of two hearts joined as one. They had saved one another from certain doom; they knew the rising of hope, and the sinking depths of fear, and yet though all they stood together. And now here they stood, amongst blessed Selune and the stars above, they had at last given in to the most primal of emotions. Hope rose within both, a moment which lasted an eternity, a moment they prayed to the gods would nae end soon.

"So what happens now?" Oliver asked of his newfound beloved.

"I know not. But I know for sure what we face now, we face it together – my love." She laid herself upon Oliver's lap, gazing forth to the stars above. So beautiful they were upon, diamonds upon black silk. The two looked upon heaven, and wished upon the gods for hope.

For hope twas the greatest power of all...

9

You can almost always tell how a dwarf or an elf might react. Hell, you can even tell with goblins. But Talos' teeth! With humans you can never tell what they might do!

Blake Stonebrow, "Letters to Adbar"

Twas a long day indeed for the company, partaking of endless feasts and festivals in their honor. "The saviors of Grosvenson" the townsfolk called them, showering them with accolades & gold aplenty. Ritifin had seen fit and well to empty the towns coffers of it's wealth, as a "fitting" reward for ending the danger to the small hamlet. Nearly a thousand gold laid now in their hands, though the sage had offered thrice more, to which the company declined, giving the rest to help rebuild the town and aid her people.

Even the master of the shadow keep felt wise to reward the heroes for their act of daring do. To the company he gifted a long sword of exquisite make, icy runes covering it's frost-tinted blade; a cloak of black silk, and 2 keen darts enchanted to return to their thrower, and lastly a shield of glistening silver, crested with a roaring dragon taking wing. They had spent the evening in the shadow mage's company, finding him a most likable fellow. In a final act of charity, the company paid forward his required tithe for the month, upon promise that he act toward the good of the town should such be required. Twas an offer graciously accepted.

By mid-sun, the company bid the good folk of the town farewell, as they began the long ride back to the Living City. They rode boldly, with renewed confidence and might, the experience of the two towers had tempered the heroes. In the days that followed, new skills began to mature within the band, especially for Sakura and Arti both, for the experience had awakened a certain fire within them both. In the heart of the lovestruck sorceress, powers anew had awakened in her, one that sharpened her reflexes, and a second spell that shielded her from blows.

For the young rouge, he spent man a day on the journey home practicing his skills with the crossbow and knife. He had found a couple old rusty locks discarded by the folk back in town, and with a few handmade tools he practiced his trade. Twas slow, and at times frustrating work, but his skill was slowly improving as a practiced rouge.

Even the others, save for their veteran leader had benefited greatly from the experience. Iris discovered new found blessings of Selune in her prayers, while young master Oliver daftly practiced a springing thrust with his newborn blade. Finally, Lalayla was awash in her studies, having uncovered several powerful new magics amongst her tangled notes. Aye, such experience had changed them for the better.

Riding cross-country, they had rode south beyond the Hlintar Ride, into the deep woodlands of the Highbank Forest. There they had hopped to cut through the rugged woodland, intersecting with the Mosstree Trail which would lead them home to Ravens Bluff. Though nae a necessary detour, but the heroes knew such would serve good practice for any future expedition. Amongst a bubbling stream they camped early for the eve, deep beneath the ancient shadowtops of the forest

After six long days on the trail, twas good to spend an eve off their feet. Sakura sat upon the edge of the creek, feet danging aimlessly into the chilled waters, sending shivers up her spine. Such an idyllic place twas these woodlands Sakura thought to herself, for she remembered well the wild tales her mother spoke in her life amongst the fey, amongst the father she scarce knew save only for stories told only by candlelight.

"Sakura?" Quiellie's voice came quietly from behind.

"Ah, Quiellie, well met." She smiled at the paladin's voice. Twas the first time Sakura had seen her in anything other than war steel, for the elven paladin wore little more than a silken shift upon her body. "Will ye not be cold?"

"No, such chill comforts me on nights as this dear child." She sat down next to the sorceress, cusping forth a drink of spring water from the creek. "Tis been too long since I walked such lands."

"Mother told me often of such verdant lands." Sakura told Quiellie. "When she was younger, perhaps even my age, she came here. They say for a time she even lived amongst the very fey of this wood."

"Such have been seen naught since the war. I could only imagine such teeming with life as it did before those days, for only now after all these years does the forest begin to heal."

"Aye." Young Lady Aiestrella sighed. "Mother spoke little of such wild escapades. Always she would tell me that I would come to understand in time. I suspect much though."

"And what tis it you think, if I may be bold to ask of you?" Quiellie looked about in the twilight, seeking a certain deep point along the stream.

"Well. At time she'd speak of a being that lived in these parts. Someone she knew only by name of Spark. Though whom he was truly, she speaks not." Sakura sighed softly. "She must have loved him deeply to live amongst the fey-kin."

"You believe this man your father?" Quiellie asked wonderingly.

She nodded, "I only suspect such. The truth is I know not." She looked about, as the leaves bayed in the breeze. "Though, there's a certain feeling I get about this place. That somehow I belong here. I know not, maybe I'm just being queer about such nonsense."

Quiellie looked upon the magician, a gentle smile coming to her face. "Such feelings my dear sorceress is one which ye must master, for tis amongst the many gifts the gods have endowed upon you. Trust in your instincts as you do in us." She lifted a stone from alongside the brook, tossing it over to the sorceress. "Might I have a light upon yon stone?"

"Aye." She cast her charm upon the rock, causing it to glow with gentle amber light. As she looked up to Quiellie in astonishment, she saw the paladin cast away her clothes, entering the deep waters of the stream. "Ahhhh, tis good."

Sakura blushed at her elven companion's boldness. She shied away, wishing not to linger her gaze long. "Miss Quiellie."

Quiellie only smiled, tis had been such a long time that she could bathe in peace as her kin long had done, unashamed and unafraid. "Tis fine dear child."

"But... what of the others?" She peeked over to the camp in the distance.

"Let them, we'll give them something well to remember in their sleep." She motioned for the sorceress to step in. "After all, they know not what they're missing after all, all asleep and such."

Sakura glanced over again, fearful of a leering eye cast her way. As kind and lovely as she was, she was still very much a rose in bloom, quite sheepish about her own body. With trembling hands, she slid free of her night robes, and into the chilling waters of the stream.

"Easy now." Quiellie smiled, her voice a gentle whisper, "Relax thyself." Sakura shivered in the cold, desperate to cover herself for modesty's own sake. She could feel herself waken, the chill of the evening waters surged though her, briefling taking her breath away. In time, she relaxed herself, letting the soothing waters caress her lilthe form. Twas a feeling like no other she thought, though she prayed that the others watched not from the shadows, leering over both.

"Tis good is it not?" The paladin asked of Sakura.

"Aye... wonderful I dare say." She smiled back in return, knowing now that even the armored crusader of Torm had a soft heart within her.

"Tis good." Quiellie waddled forward, sitting herself upon a large stone in the stream. "So, what news of you and young master Oliver?" She smiled.

Sakura's eyes perked up, curious to know how she had found out. "How did ye know Quiellie?"

"Tis written upon your face dear child, every time ye two look upon one another." She grinned. "Ye may be versed in bluffing and trickery, but to hide your feelings, especially from an elf is a fool's task."

"Well, if you must know. We did confess such love to one another the eve before we left Grosvenson. And such I pray we allow to grow to bloom in time."

"Do ye true and well love him?" Spoke forth the moon elf.

Sakura nodded, her face and body flushed in rouge. "Aye. Though the why of such I've not the words for. Yet I know in my heart tis true love I feel."

"Love often needs no words dear child." Quiellie grinned, the first young Sakura had seen her do so.

Somewhere deep in the heart of Thaymount, deep within the heart of that dark land of crimson-garbed mages and open treachery, a grand arena rose precariously from it's spired heights. Twas a place of death, it's marbled floors now stained a deep red hue, long soaked in the blood of condemned prisoners and unwanted slaves. Here, amongst the power of the red wizards, one man reigned supreme over this place, a man well and favored by the Zulkirs.

His name was Kravan, the glorious executioner as he was known and feared throughout these hellish lands. His eschewed the traditional black hoods and unwieldy axes of his fellow headsman, in favor of bold, even outlandish garb. Kravan had made a grim, messy art of execution into a spectacle of death, a masterful performance fit for epic bards. A master of blades, he wielded a whirling piece of razor sharp steel, a weapon perfectly balanced for throwing, yet with the sickening bite of a headsman's blade. Once long ago, he gave a hundred slaves marked for death the chance for freedom, if only they could escape his spinning blade. Armed with hope and courage, and openly given blades, try as they did, none could match him and his mastery of arms. His ruthless brutality, coupled with his flare for drama to match even the grandest ballads made him infamous amongst the Thavians, a reputation he hoped to bring to the world beyond the arena.

Kraven stood alone amongst his dominion, relishing the blackened skies upon his grand stage. Lightning rumbled & crackled in the distance, a constant storm of clashing spells and wild magic that permuted these lands. From behind him, a voice came from a wizard, cloaked in the crimson robes of the Red Wizards of Thay, one known by name of Tyrathis, a thautamurge newcome to the crimson.

"Lord Kraven." The mage spoke, "Xantarex, he has been taken by the forces of Ravens Bluff."

"My brother..." He muttered, his mood foul and dark, "Does he yet live?"

"Yes." The wearer of the red spoke. "They pry his mind, seeking forth our secrets."

"Then our task is clear." Lord Kraven thought darkly upon thundering skies. "He must be silenced, for the good of our black lord."

"But lord, he is your..."

Kraven responded only with the sickening slash of his blade, cleaving the red wizard's wagging tongue, along with the rest of his head clean from his shoulders. Blood sprayed, painting the floor a canvas of crimson. "He is of Bane, and thy lord demands his silence. Perhaps in the great beyond he'll remind you of such!" A grin crossed his face, as he took hold of the man's severed head, his face forever frozen in terror absolute, holding it over the precipice of his arena.

"Oh the tales we doth weave upon a mirror darkly. What bold strokes shall thy hand pen forth next?" He cackled, tossing the head off the edge of the arena, down onto oblivion, his sadistic laughter echoing across thundering night.

"Ah, tis good to be home at last." Sakura grinned as they spied forth the Living City in the rain-soaked distance. Even amongst dull-gray skies and peppering rain, there was a certain glitter to the city, the familiar continence of home. Truly did it earn it's stature of the crown jewel of the Vast.

"Indeed, and the sooner we get out of this rain, the better!" Oliver looked to his love, smiling toward her.

The heroes rode toward the hallowed halls, the place the knew now as home. Though only a fortnight they had been gone, to the company it felt as forever. The emissary awaited them within the grand entry, embracing all as her beloved children as she considered them such.

"Welcome home my dear children." She quietly said, her voice tender and gentle as always. "I trust ye had fun?"

The company shared a laugh at her mother's jest.

"Believe me, we have quite the tale to tell." Quiellie spoke for all, as the band made their way inside Sevenspire, out from the rain into gentle warmth.

They would spend the day feasting amongst one another, telling tales of adventure and high daring, tales that much pleased the emissary's heart. They spoke of clockwork horrors and dragons fire, of the bravery of all, especially the young rouge that had saved them thrice over with his courage.

"Impressive job, I must say." The emissary smiled.

Arti though, quiet for many a day spoke forth. "B-but my lady – H-how did you k-know of the Banite?"

"My thoughts exactly." Iris added.

"Tis Lady Dawnbringer we have to thank for that. She had caught word from a certain fat man in employ to Xantarex, and twas all too willing to tell all for the right price of gold."

Sakura looked to her mother, "So ye knew the danger they would pose to us."

"Aye, me and Deed spoke long of the matter."

Lalayla was incensed. "You used us as bait to draw them out?"

"My dear wizard friend, calm yourself." Quiellie commanded.

"No." Lady Cheryl sighed gently. "She'd be right to be upset. I liked the idea not either; but such a threat, to both thyselves and to the city had to be dealt with."

"So you had Deed poise as that hired huntsman and had her track us?" Oliver asked of the emissary.

"Yes." She replied matter of factly. "We took captive many who wished ye harm, save a Calshite whom escaped by means of Art. But most important of all..."

"Xanterex?" Sakura asked of her mother eagerly. "What secrets has he?"

"Such we will learn in due time m'dear. We know he was in league with others upon the Banite faithful, many operating in secret within the Vast and beyond, and we suspect connections to the Red Wizards of Thay. Such are only pieces of a larger puzzle."

"And such we accept. But why tell us not? Especially if such could well have meant our lives?" Quiellie returned back.

Lady Cheryl lifted herself up from the table, looking out upon silver-gray clouds through the window. "Because my dear child, I had to know well thy courage, to see thy task through to the end, and such ye did with mastery. I know now ye are well meaning folk of good character and high virtue, and I hope ye conduct yer selves such in the days to come."

"Such we shall mother." Sakura smiled upon her dear mother. "But pray next time let their not be such secrets between us. Tis only fair?"

Lady Cheryl simply nodded, her face crooked into a tender grin. "Aye. Though now I feel ye all could use a few days to rest."

All nodded, though the emissary could not help notice the crossed look hard upon Lalayla's brow.

"Well then, I do say we stand adjourned for the day. Get some rest all, for we all deserve such." Quiellie spoke for all, the others quick to agreement. Lalayla found her way over to her favorite couch in the grand hall, quickly burying herself in her spellbooks, her mood foul and sour indeed. She liked not such betrayals, even if such were good intentioned.

"Mother?" Sakura asked of Lady Cheryl as the two exited. "Might we speak alone later this eve?"

"Aye. But first you get some rest now dear." She pulled her beloved daughter into an affectionate squeeze. "We'll talk after evening-fry."

Deep in the bowels of the embassy of Thay within the City of Ravens, Zalar'mai Xhun worked her Art, a practiced magic of transmutation etched within the very confines of her private chambers. Performing the last rites of her spell, the floor at her feet glowed with eldritch power, a circle of runes pulsed with violet light.

Send him forth, her mind spoke to another as the teleportation circle crackled and flared to life, runic power tracing it's path across the summoning chamber. Before her stood the glorious executioner of Thay, the man they knew as Kraven.

"Welcome to the Vast Lord Kraven." She bowed to him in honor and fear, trembling before the glorious executioner. She knew not the reason for his visit, only that such could only mean he had come to feast upon blood.

"Oh do spare the formalities dear Zalar'mai." He cocked a smile. "I trifle not for such this night. What news have you?"

"Thy lord Xanterex is held here." The mage unfurled several maps of the city scribed upon fine papyrus with gold trim. Included with such were detailed layouts and plans of the city's prison. "The Nevin Street Comptor, where he awaits trial. They hold him upon the highest floor, no doubt seeking to know his secrets."

Good, Kraven thought, at last here a mage whom brimmed of competence and confidence. Such was rare amongst the red wizards, always scheming and plotting amongst one another, seeking only to raise forth personal power. Such was their eternal failing, a weakness that one day he hoped to right, for his duty was to Bane and Thay alike. All other considerations were secondary to that dual purpose.

"Ah dear brother, tis such shame we shalt meet as such, but I fear thy lord wishes your tongue." He laughed aloud, such to Zalar'mai's irritation. Wisely, she said nothing, though her thoughts screamed of the insanity that must course through his mind.

Sakura looked upon the rain soaked eve in quiet solitude, sitting peacefully upon her familiar balcony window. This time, unlike the last she had sat her so, her heart was at ease. No longer did her chambers feel like a iron cage, but a open doorway to the whole of the realms. She smiled, for she knew with time, and the blessings of the gods above, another would one day share her sanctum with her.

But now was not the time to think of such newborn love, for there was a truth she yearned to know from her beloved mother. One long since hidden from her. From her door, a gentle rapping tapped. She beckoned her mother within.

"Fair eve to you dear." The emissary smiled, "I trust dinner was well?"

"Aye, and my thanks. Might we speak?" Sakura asked gently of her mother.

Lady Cheryl smiled, and the two sat upon the edge of her bed, much as they had done so many evenings ago. This time, there would be no words of anger, no feelings of regret or loss. Only a simple truth.

"Mother. What know ye of my father?" She asked plainly. "I'd wish to know him, and know the truth of it all."

The emissary smiled gently. At long last, she was well and truly ready for such truths. She placed a gentle hand upon her daughter's arm, a heartfelt warmth upon her face.

"Such my dear is a long tale indeed." She intoned.

"We have all the time in the world this night." Sakura spoke back.

All the time in the world indeed...

Twas two score years ago that the emissary's tale so began, when Lady Cheryl was but only Sakura's age. Then she was known only by her pet name, a teasing title known as Cherry, named so for her ill-fitting robes of lilacs and reds, and her deep violet hair, the result of a wild magic gone ill in years past. She was a young adventurer like many others back in the day, though she oft spent days buried in mounds of books rather than in the company of others.

Only by the urging of her close friend Deed was she finally able to crawl from the turtle shell of her private life, and in to the bold world that waited beyond. During those days, Lady Dawnbringer and her childish companion often made company at the Gold Griffon Inn, a haunt long favored by the heroes of the day. Men of might and steel sat alongside workers of mastered Art, all seeking comfort from the rigors of war and battle.

Such was life back in those days, when the city was young and vibrant. Amongst these heroes was a curious being indeed. A faerie dragon hailed from the lands of the Highbank Forest. Curious enough that such a cantankerous wyrmling would seek such a place so far from his ancestral lands, let alone relish in it's free-wheeling nature. A sorcerer by trade & and a jester by want, Spark's presence within his chosen lair was seen at times an annoyance to the staff of the Inn, but often a sort of mild amusement. Such they allowed him to stay.

She remembered well how they first came to know one another, for twas a chance of circumstance that brought them together. Spark had run afoul of a certain patron of the Inn, a Thayan exile known as Arcanus Embermage, known as a blaster of foes far and wide through the city. He had jested much that eve (and as the emissary recalled, was well and truly drunk upon berrywine), when the archmage finally had enough. Seeking to end his pestering, the lord mage caught the faerie dragon's tale alight with fire, enough to send him reeling head first for comfort. Only by fate did he find such, for he crashed chest first into Miss Cherry's young bosom, much to her embarrassment.

For a fleeting moment, they looked upon each other, her face flush in vibrant rose. There he hid for a time, fearing another word of power from the furious mage of fire. So did the feared archmage hunt him down to where the young priestess of Mystra sat. He coiled upon her chest, trembling upon her, but the killing blow nae came, for the young Mystran begged his forgiveness for Spark's misconduct. The archmage turned away, believing in her words, though his glare was more than enough to send raw fear though Spark, and likewise herself

"It's alright." Cheryl spoke to the curious creature. "Tis safe to come out now. Though I'd pray ye'd leave such workers of Art alone."

Spark nodded, his tone sweet and purring, like a grinning Cheshire cat. He quick found a perch upon Cherry's shoulder, parroting her studies of ancient lore. Though oft an annoyance to others, she found something pleasing in the faerie dragon's companionship.

Weeks turned into months, and slowly the two slowly became friends. Amongst her fellow adventurers, she was finally working her way out of to the rest of the world, away from the dusty pages of old tomes and books that dominated her life before. Such was the good that the pestering faerie dragon had brought. They laughed much, and in good time delighted in the joyful company of one another.

"So how long did it take before you two came to love one another?" Sakura asked of her mother.

"Nearly a year, perhaps more." Lady Cheryl smiled softly. "I remember he had quite the taste for berrywine, a common vintage which, I'd admit even I came to enjoy greatly."

"You, a drunkard?" Sakura looked at her mother in shock, stifling back the urge to laugh at such nonsense, thinking her not the one to drink to excess.

The lady only smiled, a blush coming to her face. "Aye, twas a vice I had back when I was young. Even I was a child once before ye know."

"Go on." Her beautiful daughter asked.

In time, as her fame and fortune rose, the budding priestess and her constant companion moved to her own home, a small flat near the Halls of Mystery over in Gowntown. She had worked her way through the ranks of the Golden Roosters, and had been accepted as a squire to the beloved keepers of the mystic flame, an order of knighthood sponsored by the clergy of beloved Mystra. Tasked with the protection of the city from magical threats, and the preservation of Art in all it's myriad forms, twas a perfect fit for the young priestess.

High now in service to the goddess, Spark was the perfect mentor to her mastery of Art, such twas all whom sought Mystra's greatest secrets were required to possess. He taught her the ways of arcane magic, oft times in the guise of a wild yet comly man, or whatever shape fit his constant whims. As such was expected with two so deeply in love, they yearned for each others caress. Often would they make love to one another, their hearts pledged to themselves and to the gods above, yet they took care to keep their affairs a closely guarded secret.

Twas in the autumn of the Year of the Shield, the year 1367 by dale reckoning, scarce three winters before the war that the two stole away to the Highbank in secret. There young master Spark showed her the wonder that twas the faerie enclave of Elasrial, a sanctuary long kept hidden to those not of fey blood. Twas there the two loved one another long and deep, their twin hearts now beating as one. A union blessed by the gods and the spirits alike, they wished upon the lady of mysteries for a miracle, and such did the goddess answer.

The young lady Cheryl was with child...

Winter came to the Vast, and the two returned from their wild reverie to the Living City. And though young Lady Cheryl was slowly adapting to her new found duty as a mother-to-be, the call of duty to the city, her beloved homeland could neigh be ignored. A dire threat bode the city ill in the form of Locaath Blackmanta, the infamous devil in the deep. Long had she harried the heroes of the city through her treachery, but none so much as her dark alliance with the followers of Shar.

Though Spark begged her not to go, such was nae a choice for the young emissary to be. Hiding her condition through spell and disguise, she rode forth along side her comrads as she had many-a-time before. They tracked forth Blackmanta's plot, to engulf the city whole in wild magic; a treason carried forth by a foul priest of Shar known by name of Beck, and a red wizard in service to the dark lady named Fergus. However, it was the betrayal of one of their own, a halfling rouge named Irving that spelled forth their doom. For he was a vampire, shielded with potent shadow magics to mask his true nature, and his powers.

He had led Cheryl and her friends to a temple, some two hours ride north upon the Dragon Reach, where a unholy rite was soon to be performed. A rite, such if was completed would erupt Mystra's weave in wild magic across the whole of the Vast. There, only the shadow weave held true, and yet knowing the danger they faced, the lady and her comrades charged forth. None could foresee, amongst shadow and darkness the traitorous fiend in their midst. For the young priestess and her dearest friends, it was a betrayal absolute, one that ended in their own deaths.

In those final moments, bereft of her Art, her companions dead all around her, she prayed one desperate hope to Mystra, to save but the soul of her unborn child, even if at cost of her own. There, in that dark place, did she meet death, and the face of her beloved goddess.

Mystra wept for her, one so kind and full of joy and hope; she gave her wish, but nae without cost. To Cheryl did the goddess task the girl as her chosen emissary, a speaker of Mystra's will upon the world. Such was truly a grand honor, to stand amongst her chosen. And to the child, she gave a piece of her very soul; the flesh and blood of a beloved mother, infused with the soul of her beloved goddess.

Sakura looked upon her mother, her truth now finally bare and whole, tears flowed freely from her brow. The crushing weight of truth, neigh, the very weight of the cosmos itself now bore upon her.

She was the child of the goddess. she trembled in her mother's arms, sobbing long and hard into her chest. Twas a long time before she summoned the courage to even speak.

"...w-why?" She looked upon the emissary, her eyes red with sadness. "Why did you never tell me?"

"Because my sweetling, I could nae place such a weight on your heart till it twas ready to bear such." She held her daughter tight, sharing in her tears. "I did so because I loved you, oh gods above forgive me..."

"...and because you loved in him?" She fought through her sadness.

"Aye my dear. With all my heart and soul. If I had the world to give, I would have done so gladly for but one more day with him."

A good bell passed before they carried forth, letting their sorrows carry upon one another. "So, what became of Spark?"

"Truly I know not what became of my life. For when we both were brought back to life, he was gone. Though I sought him out, for months at a time, yet I could find him not. Even my most powerful workings of Art could nae trace him." Once more, the emissary began to weep. For so long her heart had been naught but an empty void.

Sakura clutched her tight, "Yet to this very day ye seek him still?"

"Aye my dearest." There was no end to the tears the emissary shed, no working of Art, no word of comfort that could bring her love back. At long last, after so many a winter alone, the sobering reality began to rear it's head. He was truly gone. Was such the price she had paid to the lady for the life of her daughter?

"Tis been so long. Be it not time you think to let him go?" Sakura held her mother close, soothing her tears. "To hide such anguish for so long, buried under duty to king and country. I can think of no greater burden mother. Besides, he gave you something greater than any king's ransom, greater than even the most priceless working of Art. Tis me he gave you, and for that I will always be grateful." Her words were wisdom, such the high lady had long hoped in time her blessed daughter would demonstrate.

Twas no end to the tears that flowed from the emissary's pain-wracked eyes, a pain that washed through both. Though long had her love been gone, he had given the emissary the twin boons of hope and love. With such, she would ne'er be truly alone in the eyes of the gods.

"So what becomes of me?" Sakura dared to ask.

Lady Cheryl looked deep into her emerald eyes, "That my love, even I know not. Such is a question best asked to those whom count amongst Mystra's own beloved children. Tis time ye knew of her chosen."

"The chosen of Mystra?" The sorceress voiced. Such her mother had spoken of in story and fable. Ever since she was a young girl, she had read bright tales of fabled Elminster, the great sage of Shadowdale, blessed by beloved Mystra with life immortal, and power divine. She recalled the tales the seven sisters, radiant women born of silver-hair and mastery of high Art; stories of Lady Alustriel and the Simbul, rulers of fantastic kingdoms wild and free, of Storm and Dove, and lovely Laurel, tales that painted the canvas of her earliest childhood fantasies. Often she would picture herself amongst them, battling endless waves of clashing demons and roaring dragons. Such was the vivid imaginings of a impressionable mind.

Am I to become one like them? Sakura thought as her mind looked inward, hoping for some sign of blessed Mystra's power that lurked within.

Lady Cheryl smiled, sensing her daughters feelings. "Aye, I know such is difficult for ye to understand now, but all in the fullness of time. Even her beloved children, the seven, in time they had to accept their calling as Mystra's chosen."

"And you believe such a choice I will face in time?"

"Such as I did all those years ago." The emissary smiled. "Tis a choice I have never regretted."

Sakura turned anew to her mother, emerald eyes agleam in the candlelight. "Pray tell me what I must do?"

"If I were you, I would seek first the lands of Shadowdale, where many a chosen calls home. Beyond that dear, tis a road I cannot follow you upon. Such are truths that you must experience for thyself."

To Shadowdale,the young sorceress pondered. Such would be a perilous journey, a crossing of the Dragon Reach, then the long trek through the Elven Court and restored Myth Drannor. Excitement boiled deep within her; though such was a long road wrought with peril and danger, she would not miss such high adventure for the world. Such in her mind was a road well worth walking.

"Then Shadowdale is where I must seek." She said quietly, a smirking gesture upon her face. "So long as tis with good friends. I dare seek my fate."

"Aye, go with my blessings and by Mystra's guiding hand." Lady Cheryl returned her sly grin, gently kissing her beloved daughter on the forehead before striding quietly to the door.

Sakura sat there upon her bed, staring quiet into the night. Twas by fate that lead her to this instant of judgment, and twas by fate she would seek out her path. She could feel a certain stirring deep within her soul, a longing to become something more, something greater. Whatever the path that laid before them, she would seek it bravely.

For their's was a road worth truly walking.

So did my beloved Sakura travel west, to the heartland of Faerûn, and the ancient lands of the Elven Court. My daughter, a child born of love; forged of fiery passion, and tempered by the cooling waters of mercy. Though long had I wished to pen her tale to the annals of history, twas only though her gentle eyes would I at last see the truth of it all. Her's was a story that she alone would write upon the weave of fate, for their could be but no other way.

She had opened my eyes, both to truth and hope akin. Too long had dwelt in the past, in the shadows of loss and regret. Long had I yearned to love, to be with the one being in all the realms that could sooth my heart. Yet, in my own daughter's heart, his spark yet remained, for we had given such to her through our love. Twas not all that I so feared. Such I feared change, and the tidings which came with it, for good or ill. I had so long sought to protect that which I cherished, yet I allowed such duty to blind me from truth. Twas only through her that I could finally let her be who she was destined to be.

Yet now she stood, amongst dear friends and family alike, a beacon of hope to all she would come across. Though young amongst the Company of Silver Hope, she was their shining star, her bond tying forth all together in trust and friendship. To bring together such a band; a paladin born anew, forsworn to duty and loyalty above all. A street urchin, young at heart, yet more courageous than any before dared. A wee lass of a wizard, her creative spark and cunning a blade sharpened to the keenest edge; and a half-drow priestess of the moon maiden, a child born from hate, yet blessed with boundless love. All did I accept freely into our family, and into our hearts.

Yet one remained. A noble swordsman with wit and guile, and a heart of purest gold. Twas he that I trusted with my beloved daughter's life, and unto his end he would her protect her so. Even now I sense the love that busts forth from both, a love which even makes myself envy such, for in time theirs is a bond that will one day shake heaven and earth. I pray such upon mother Mystra, let their ways ride together for all the rest of their days.

For now, I can but only watch, and wonder what grand adventure awaits the company of the silver hope. So shalt I watch over them, for such is the bidding of our lady of mysteries.

Fare ye well my beloved children, fare ye most well...

Lady Cheryl Aiestrella, Emissary of Mystra

29 Ches, 1383 DR, Year of the Vindicated Warrior