-Please, I don't want to die!-

-Please, somebody help me!-

-Please, I-I'll do anything!-

-You can't-? But I don't want to die!-

-...Then I want him dead. I want him dead and I want him to hurt for it.-

-Humanity? Soul? I-... Yes.-

-Yes, I'll do it.-

-Just please… I don't want… To die.-

It woke to the familiar sensation of falling, before grunting as it impacted with what was presumably uneven rocks and opening its eyes. Pain soon followed the glimpse of a tall tower-like building with a broken iron fence around a balcony, the body starting to twist and contort with crackles and pops of joints displacing and bones breaking so that they could reform. The process took barely six seconds, though it felt much longer.

It always felt much longer.

Voices shouted from around it and it reflexively rolled to put its feet under it and took off running, dodging down back alleys until it came to rest, chest heaving in the darkness of an alley. It had lost the pursuit, for the most part, but it was far from safe. Taking stock of its situation, it leaned back against the wall and closed its eyes.

The body had been male, from what it could tell from those precious few seconds before it had impacted with the stones. From the armor, probably someone paid to defend people. The metal plates fit weirdly now, as the male had seemingly been taller than it. She felt along the body after removing the metal plates to see what she had ended up with.

Physically male, seemingly human- No, its eyes picked out shapes too well in the semi-darkness, and as it felt along its ears it nodded to itself. Elven. Acceptable, useful, with resistances and an edge that a human lacked. It -She-, stripped the plate armor from her body and adjusted the clothes to better conceal her thinner frame. Her throat hurt, and she shook her head before bundling up the armor to go and head into the city she had found herself in.

If nothing else, it beat being a goblin again.

Damion sat by the fire, staring blindly through to the embers as Imoen half-heartedly pretended to eat. His fingers were clenched in a white-knuckled fist around the parchment, the letter that was tinged with his father's blood and the warning that had eventually gotten the old mage killed. Their trip wasn't supposed to be like this, he thought to himself. Or so he thought before he dimly registered Imoen agreeing glumly.

"I thought the old man was going to get you out of here quicker-"

"You knew. You -knew- and you-you-!"

He jumped slightly as arms wrapped around him, though he dropped his gaze back to the fire when he realized his sister was crying into his shoulder. Anger bled into the hollowness that felt like it was going to swallow him, and he wrapped his arm around her.

"I didn't m-mean- I didn't w-want-!"

"It's not your fault. It's… I'm sorry, Im. It's… Been a long night."

She sniffled, and he patted her back as she mumbled quietly.

"I woulda toldja if I'd thought it was actually dangerous. I didn't…"

"It's… It'll be okay. You came out here and now I'm not alone. I don't think… I could be alone right now."

"You're not gunna go back to being weird are you?"

He tried to smile as she leaned back, anxious hope in her face despite how he grimaced.

"You promised you wouldn't let me, Im."

She managed a smile in response, and almost screamed as her gaze met an unfamiliar set of eyes in the darkness.

"Dami-"

"Easy, I'm not here to hurt you. I'm going to come out, so you can put the shiv away."

He eased the dagger another inch clear of the sheath, head craned around to focus on the low, almost rough voice. He kept it out and shifted slowly to his feet as the figure stepped out, and he was almost taken back by how thin the figure looked, half-starved and dirty.

"We've got the same enemy. The same person that killed someone important to me, killed your old man. I watched, and saw you run. I don't know why he wants you dead, but that's reason enough for me to want you to live."

"Who… Are you?"

She shifted slightly, head tilting before licking along her teeth and grimacing.

"... Ira, is the shortened version. The rest's a bit of a mouthful. You? He called you 'The Ward'."

"Damiond-... Damion. Just Damion."

Grey eyes flickered between both humans, one crouched defensively the other lowering his dagger.

"And you, Girl?"

"Im-Imoen."

It didn't take elven hearing to pick out the whisper of 'I don't trust her. Something's not right!' nor the answering grunt of acknowledgement, but there wasn't much that could be done about it.

"Nice to meet you both, then. Now, do you have any food? I feel like I haven't eaten in an eternity."

Ira could tell they were wary of her. That was fine, the older of the two had agreed to allow her to stay, but she could tell he thought she was either going to kill them in their sleep or was another number to protect against an ambush. The older one was a tall, dark-haired human with tanned skin and long hair tied haphazardly back while the younger sported shoulder-length hair and eyes that held the memory of laughter. She sipped the offered water carefully, all too aware of her body's limitations before flicking her eyes towards the Damion as she was addressed.

"So what do you have."

"What do I what now?"

"Have. What do you have that makes you worth taking with us."

She blinked, and thought about it. Normally, that wasn't a question asked of her but as she took stock of her situation she realized she must have looked particularly pathetic. Buying time with a sip of the watery, awful-tasting soup she had been given (How did they -eat- that crap with straight faces?) Ira shrugged.

"I've got some skills. I'm a bit… out of practice. Give me a chain and I can do some damage with it." At the mix of skeptical and confused looks she got, she raised a hand. "Fair hand at using something like a spear, or a staff. Claws too."

"Claws…?"

Belatedly, she recalled that elves didn't have claws, and after taking another sip of the soup swallowed and cleared her throat.

"Martial claws. They, uhh… Fit, over your hands."

"Like… What a monk would use? Not a cloister monk but-"

"Yeah, like that." Ira waved a hand vaguely towards Imoen, finishing her bowl of soup and grimacing slightly.

"We'll… Get you a staff. Should be easy to find one. So you have nothing else?"

"Had some coin. Spent it trying to follow the bastard that red rum'd your old man."

At the slightly confused look she got, Ira couldn't help but crack a grin.

"Red rum. Murder, backwards and split down the middle."

"He just died last night! We buried him this morning! How can you joke about it!"

She raised her hands defensively as Imoen stood up and scowled at her, leaning back.

"Humour is the death of despair. If you're that sore about it, I'll be more careful with my words. I'm still… Getting used, to your ways. Humans are strange."

"Apologize to him!"

"Imoen, it's… It's alright."

"Dami-"

"Imoen." His curt rebuff cut her off, and he rubbed at his eyes for a moment. "I've had enough of fighting. I just…"

"If you want, I'll take first watch."

"You-!"

"Sit down, Imoen. Ira, if you hurt my little sister…"

"Obligatory threat, obligatory counter with honesty. I needs you more than you need me, after all."

Damion grunted, before laying down and looking blankly up at the sky.

"Good. Get some sleep, Imoen."

"I'll wake you up in four hours then, kid."

Ira grinned into the darkness at the grunt that answered her, settling down to take her watch.

Howling woke him from his sleep, wolves from the sound of it, and as he scrambled to his feet he realized that despite how the howls carried, the sounds were from a distance. The fire had burned down to embers but the sky was beginning to brighten in the east. Movement across the fire drew his attention, and he realized Ira had turned her head from the direction of the screams to focus on him.

"Don't count on me keeping watch all night again, Kid. I get tired too, though it only takes about four hours for me to recover."

"How far away are they?"

"Less than a thousand feet, but not by much I'd hazard."

"What… Are they?" Imoen uncurled from where she had been feigning sleep, sitting up and looking around with a dagger in hand.

"Wolves."

"You know a lot about them it seems, Ira."

"'Fought them before. They go down quickly if you know what you're doing. Either of you able to fight?"

Damion and Imoen shared a look.

"Yes, though we're both better at shooting things than stabbing them."

Ira grunted, before shrugging.

"Who are they attacking?"

"My ears are good, kid, but not -that- good."

Imoen's face scrunched at being called 'kid', and she opened her mouth to protest before Ira cut her off.

"I'm -old-. Compared to me, you're all kids."

"Enough. We should go and check it out anyways."

A shrug and sullen pout answered him as he collected his things, waiting as Ira dumped dirt onto the remains of the fire to snuff it.

"Lead on then, Kid."

They didn't have far to go. About three hundred feet from their camp, a wolf burst out of the underbrush and snapped blindly at Imoen until a fist whumped into its throat. It skittered to the side, whining, while Damion scooped the bow from a backpedaling Imoen to fire an arrow into its shoulder. A second fist cracked into its head before it went down as Damion put another arrow into its hide.

"Easy, Kid. It's already dead. This in mind, though, I think you need to decide on some party arranging."

"Me?"

"You're the leader, aren't you? She defers to you, and I don't particularly care to lead. I'm just here for when the armored guy comes back for you so I can stick my hand through his-" A glance towards Imoen had Ira shifting slightly. "... You get the idea."

"You first then."

She studied Imoen and Damion for a moment, before shrugging.

"Makes sense."

With that, she turned and continued in the direction they had been traveling in and keeping an eye out, either uncaring or oblivious to the look Imoen gave her back. Her ears were keen enough to catch their whispers back and forth, and with her walking in the lead it kept her expression hidden from them.

"... I don't trust her. Something's not right."

"She didn't try anything overnight."

"No, but… Do you think she's lying?"

"No. She was telling the truth about the horned man taking someone important away from her. She's not telling us the -whole- truth, though."

"I feel like… She's dangerous, Dami."

"She -did- throat-punch a wolf."

It was hard, fighting the urge to snicker at that as Ira continued on. Something rustled through the underbrush to their left, but she deemed it far enough away to not be an immediate threat and continued without comment.

"Yeah. That wasn't anything like what I expected from a monk. I thought there was more… More, uhh…"

"Hoyahh's?"

"Yeah!"

Ira rolled her eyes at that.

"That was more like a brawler in a bar. And she moves weirdly!"

"Like she's been kicked in the pants?"

"Yeah! Dami, There's something very -weird- about her. She looked grumpy when she reached for a bowl last night and had to move to get it."

"Im, -you- look grumpy when that happens to you, too."

"Yeah but-"

"People ahead."

She glanced back to see they both had startled at her warning, suppressing a smirk and instead quirking an eyebrow.

"Hostile?"

"Dunno. They were probably the ones the wolves attacked though."

"How do you know?" Imoen frowned at her, glancing ahead and then murmuring a soft 'oh' as she caught sight of what Ira had seen seconds before.

"Biggest clue was the wolf corpse with stab wounds. The green robe with his hands in it's chest, though, that's unusual."

We'll see how long I do this for. I haven't written much in a very long time, after all.
As always, I do not own Baldurs Gate or any official characters of the franchise, any similarity to real life people is purely coincidental and only Ira and Damion are my brainchildren.
Questions, comments or concerns? Leave me a message after the tone.

-KD