If you're wondering why the delay again, I'm afraid been getting wrapped in playing Fallout 3 and the expansion packs... which has has also prompted me to want to go back to play Fallout 1 & 2 again. I can't even remember if I'd already replied to the reviews or not, so if if I forgot about you then I'm very sorry :(

Be warned also that at seventeen pages I believe this is the longest chapter yet. I was tempted to split it in two, but couldn't find a convenient place to do so. Anyway, hope you enjoy :)

Patch (Edit) notes:

The villagers no longer just instantly accept what Imoen and Aerie tell them at the end, and demand a proper explanation. It was already a long episode, and now its slightly longer, but I felt this change at least was justified and completely necessary.

The Twelve Labours of Imoen

~*~

Part Nine: Deva

It was a really easy mistake to make of course; most commoners had never heard of the Avariel, a rare and isolationist people who made their homes in places they knew would not be accessible to anyone who can only travel by land or water. So when one showed up in their village, swooping down on them like a huge bird of prey and wearing rather splendid sandals and toga, what were these villagers who had never read a book in their lives to think?

Even Aerie had scarcely dreamed that she'd ever encounter another one of her people again, and if she did she was likely hoping it would be a better sort. She explained that she had heard a tale when she was young about an Avariel who exploited the ignorance of humans in far out isolated communities for his own gain; of course such behaviour was frowned upon by other Avariel since it was so very childish, really… besides, it really didn't end well for that one…

"We should tell these people the truth," Aerie said, staring out the window at the scene in the square. They had decided not to confront the 'deva' out in the open; if they did he'd likely just take off and they'd never see him again. So instead they'd found a table at the Inn from where they could keep an eye on him and wait.

"Not yet," Imoen said, sitting down and pushing a cup filled only with some local tea recipe across the table to her friend. "People can get very angry when their beliefs are challenged; they'd probably burn us at the stake for blasphemy. Or, they get angry about being lied to and burn him, and probably us as well for being the ones who ruined the cheery little fantasy they were having."

"Just like in the story…"

"Exactly… we've got to be very careful about how we handle this. The bartender said that at some point in the day the angel always goes into the church to pray… alone. That's when we'll be able to talk to him."

Aerie nodded and remained staring out the window, head resting on one arm and completely ignoring her drink. Imoen concernedly examined her friend, noting the pensive expression and the fact she was tapping the table with her other free hand. Impatience had never been one of Aerie's shortcomings; one thing she knew how to do very well after being locked in a cage for many years was wait. But obviously even Aerie had limits to how much of anything she could endure, and the fact was she had waited many years for a chance like this; a chance perhaps, to get word to or from her family in Faenya Dail. To let them know she was okay and hear that they were still happy and that they missed her… that was what Aerie wanted, anyway.

It had always been very hard for the Avariel to come to terms with losing her wings; Imoen doubted it would ever be possible for her friend to ever fully do so. Of course, the red head had experienced loss too; she'd lost Winthrop and several other friends. Nalia had lost her father too… lots of people Imoen knew had lost parents and others close to them. That kind of loss was never easy, but although it may not seem possible at the time, ultimately after burying them and grieving eventually you were able to get on with your own life. But, Aerie had never buried her parents. They could still be alive, somewhere… or they could well be dead. Maybe the worst possible scenario in Aerie's head was that they'd just completely forgotten about her and moved on... but any number of things could have happened, really. Whatever the case it was clear that Aerie really needed to find out so that she could finally say goodbye to them and move on as well. But now suddenly, for the first time since her capture by slavers, the elf's home and family seemed like they might not be completely out of her reach.

"Aerie... y'know," Imoen began having no idea how she would finish, "We're a long way from Faenya Dail..."

"I know," the elf sat back, taking a deep breath, "h-he's probably never heard of it... b-but maybe he comes from another city nearby, and m-maybe someone there who... who can take a message home. L-let them know I'm still alive..."

"I'm not sure it's going to go down too well," Imoen said while outside the last of the villagers were going up to receive their 'blessing', giving away money and other valuables in exchange. The Avariel male seemed to have employed two helpers, one of whom appeared to be a priest of some sort, to ferry the goods into the church. "We're going up to him and say 'stop deceiving these poor people, you spineless bottom feeding parasite, or else... oh, and if you have time, could you maybe do a favour for my friend here?'"

Of course, you could make any idea sound ridiculous if you said it in a highly sarcastic way... 'A steam powered cart? Suurrre... At least when it breaks down you can have a nice cup of tea I suppose'. But really, she just didn't want her friend getting her hopes up only to have them dashed like... like a thing getting dashed horribly. Imoen was prepared for her friend to get upset and emotional about her seeming dismissal. The elf rarely completely lost her temper, but the red head was expecting some sort of outburst which ultimately never materialised. The blonde just sagged a little, frowning, wincing slightly and obviously wrestling with something.

Aerie had confided in Imoen once that whenever she looked back and reflected on all the time in captivity and the cruelties done to her... it just didn't seem real; like even though she'd experienced all that a part of her still refused to accept that it could happen. Aerie wondered if that seemed strange or silly, but it was something Imoen understood too well. She supposed Aerie's lack of emotion now was because this situation still seemed unreal. It did to Imoen too; outside there was a man claiming to be an angel sent by the Gods, but in fact he was just a perfectly ordinary magical winged elf from the mountains. It... it wasn't something you dealt with every day.

"There's a chance... r-right?" The elf said after a while.

"There's a chance," Imoen sighed. Outside it seemed like things were wrapping up; the avariel spread out his arms and his wings to give one final blessing to the crowd before he was ushered into the church by his assistants. "We'll see what happens..."

--

Getting into the church wasn't as easy as walking up to the front door. The building was off limits while the Deva was inside 'praying', with some of beefiest locals barring the entrance. The young women hardly wanted a fight with the entire village so were forced to seek a back door and try to enter without being seen. The later part at least was of no difficulty to two highly competent magic users.

"Alright, looks like there's a cellar," Imoen whispered when she returned to the stable. She heard no reply from Aerie though. "Aerie? Where are you? You'd better not have wandered off..."

"I'm over here," the elf whispered.

"What? Where?"

"Here... b-by the trough..."

"Well you need to speak up a bit more; I can't see you," Imoen stumbled somewhat blindly in the direction of the horse trough.

"Oww!" Aerie yelped suddenly.

"What?"

"You... y-you just trod on my foot."

"Sorry."

"I-it's alright... a-at least it didn't hurt as much as last time. You said there was a cellar?"

"Right... follow me."

"H-how can I follow you if I can't see you?"

"I thought elves had great senses... can't you use smell or hearing or something?"

"I'm n-not a basset hound..." the elf huffed indignantly.

"I didn't say that you were."

"I d-do feel you treat me sometimes like... l-like some sort of pet."

"Oh, I do not!"

"S-sometimes I feel like you do."

"Well I'm sorry about that, but we can talk about it later. Just be good and nice and maybe I'll have a treat for you as well."

"Hmm... w-what kind of treat?"

"Chocolate biscuit?"

"Well... okay then."

"So just take my hand."

"Where's your hand? I... I-I can feel something round and soft... I don't suppose it's your head, is it?"

"Pretty forward Aerie... I didn't realise we had that kind of relationship..."

"Heh, s-sorry," the elf giggled, "Just think... w-we could kiss and take our clothes off in the middle of the village and no one would even notice..."

"Oh, sheez... always the quiet ones, isn't it?" Imoen rolled her eyes, or at least assumed she did; the inside of her head was completely transparent. She managed to feel along her friends arm and take hold of her hand. "Come on..."

Being invisible too long tended to make people light headed and giddy, in addition to it being disorientating in other ways. There were many things you took for granted when you were used to being visible, like the way when you were walking down the street with lots of other people they would all slightly and subtly alter their course to avoid colliding with you. It happened pretty much unconsciously so naturally you never gave it any thought whatsoever until you were invisible and you had to do all the avoiding by yourself, or else get run over by some huge half-orc builder. Even crossing the short distance of the village square, Imoen had a couple of close shaves with a woman leading her donkey and a man shaped like a brick shed walking purposefully towards the Inn. But she managed to get herself and Aerie across in one piece, whereupon they scurried around to the back of the church where the cellar door had been left unguarded. Only a simple padlock and chain barred entry for most people, but to Imoen that was more or less the same as an invitation to come in.

Once inside and out of sight anyway, Aerie dispelled the invisibility and thankfully stopped suggesting running all across Amn naked. There seemed to be no one inside the building, apart from one pale skinned silver haired lady:

"Chauntea," Aerie bowed her head reverently at the statue surrounded by roses in some small side chapel.

"Wonder why she hasn't done anything to stop this yet?" Imoen wondered out loud.

"Well... m-maybe she has. Maybe that's how we've ended up here... I-I mean if all the Gods just went around striking down every person who caused offence, t-then there'd be no one left to worship any of them."

"You'd think she'd throw them out of her own house though. I mean, if," the daughter of Bhaal stated hypothetically; it was already known to Aerie that she had no desire to claim her father's Throne should the opportunity. Although of course neither of them knew exactly what would happen in the battles certain to come; regardless of what her intentions were, Imoen's own siblings saw her as a rival. "If I was a God, then I sure wouldn't stand for it."

"Oh, but... y-you really wouldn't want to encourage people to run to you for help all the time. You'd rather have followers who could think and work things out on their own."

"Yeah, but then, what do I do all day? Anyway, always seemed to me that smiting people you don't like was the only fun part of being a God."

"You wouldn't really smite anyone... m-maybe you could be a God who just goes around hugging people."

"It's a good thought... I might be more into religion if some of the Gods were a bit more cuddly."

"Y-you don't think Silverbeard is cuddly?" Aerie asked innocently, referring to the Dwarven God of Battle.

"Er, no... do you?"

"A-a little bit..."

"You're weird."

"That's my... I-I mean, I am a witch you know..."

Regardless, there were no Dwarf deities around to hug so the pair concentrated on finding the Deva. It wasn't hard; after all it was a small country church not a sprawling temple. He was just next door, in the main hall. It was to say what the of them had been expecting to find; perhaps the 'Deva' and his conspirators sat around laughing and toasting and counting all their money. But, the scene was as the villagers had probably imagined. He was knelt at the back of the church facing a much larger statue of Chauntea, just praying.

Creeping up quietly behind, Imoen exchanged a 'what in the hells' type of glance with Aerie, who shrugged and shook her head. Inching forward some more, the elf's leg brushed against a basket that had been resting at the very end of one of the pews, pushing it over.

"Who...?" The startled 'Deva' immediately swung his head around, wide eyed and panic stricken. His eyes quickly became fixed on Aerie, who held her breath for a long moment as he and she peered into each other's souls. The male Avariel slowly relaxed, settling into a no doubt practiced placidly calm demeanour. "You're..."

"Aerie," the young blonde took a tiny step forward, "f-from Faenya Dail..."

"I do not know it," that revelation caused Aerie to deflate slightly, whilst the male Avariel turned away and genuflected to the statue before rising to his feet. "I am Raptir. Tell me, Aerie from Faenya Dail, what is it you wish with me?"

"W-where did you come from? Is there a city? I-is it far? H-how did you get here...?"

For once, Imoen had decided to sit back and let her friend do most of the talking. It seemed appropriate in the circumstances. She was a little afraid that, in the circumstances, Aerie might forget why they were here in the first place, but the red head was there to insure that didn't happen. There was good chance that Aerie was being so unusually forward just because Imoen had told her not to expect much; besides, Imoen was beginning to doubt her own motives for saying that to her friend.

She'd gotten so used to Aerie's company and their almost sisterly friendship that maybe, deep down inside, Imoen didn't really want Aerie to get in touch with her real family again... because if she did then maybe she would want to go back to them. Upon reflection it was a silly thing to think; Aerie had already said she felt it was her destiny to help Imoen. Besides, Imoen felt that that her friend did genuinely have a passion for magic and travel and adventure and even enjoyed a good fight every now and again, if not the killing and death that often followed. Despite that, it was doubtful Aerie would ever really want to give up that life. She just needed closure for her old life so she could focus more fully on the present.

"He can only answer one thing at a time," the red head smiled, placing a hand supportively on her friends shoulder.

"Oh... of course," Aerie nodded in gratitude, "I'm sorry."

"It's not far," Raptir said, his voice like the rest of him so very smooth and calm. "About three days flight, I suppose," of course a winged creature could cover far greater distances in a day than any creature on foot could. 'Three days flight' could mean hundreds of miles... "But, why do you ask?"

"I have family there," Aerie explained, "I mean, i-in Faenya Dail. They don't know that I'm alive. To... to be honest, I don't know that they're still alive..."

"And so you need me to find out for you?" He surmised, and she nodded. For another long moment he seemed to stare through and around Aerie, presumably looking at where her wings had once been. She could only hope that he was seriously giving thought to helping her. "You will never again know the freedom The Winged Mother bequeathed us," he said at last, "for that, I am truly sorry."

"Will you help me?" Aerie demanded, not really appreciating his pity right now.

"I am told that here, on the ground, nothing is ever given away for free; at least not entirely. So, if I were to help you, what would you do for me?"

"I-I," Aerie looked to Imoen, perhaps for some suggestions. The only one she got was to remember herself. And so, swallowing back her desires, she returned to Raptir. "I can't let you continue exploiting these people, if that's what you're getting. I-if you want gold a-and objects then, I can get them for you... without having to lie to anyone."

"You don't understand at all," Raptir shook his head sadly, "I don't want wealth or trinkets... but I am curious; why is it that you want protect these people? Considering, I'm assuming, that it was they who were responsible for taking away your greatest gift?"

"Y-you mean humans? They're not all alike you know... T-the world's a really big place... perhaps bigger than you know right now. Some people in it are cruel; perhaps because I've felt that cruelty I can't stand to see anyone else suffer. Besides, the people in this village have never taken anything from me."

"You're so," Raptir tilted his head, as if trying to work loose the exact he wanted and then settled on, "humane."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, nothing. I didn't mean to insult you. I don't suppose you've considered that even if you could back, to your Faenya Dail, that they'd never accept you back there. Oh, they would never force you to leave of course; that's not the elven way of doing things. They're rarely that honest; they just wouldn't try to make you feel welcome. In fact I think they'd probably fear you, having been so tainted by the world below."

"I don't think I really want to go back," Aerie admitted, "n-not interminably anyway... I just want to know my parents are okay..."

"It's how they treated me," he said, ignoring her, "when they started fearing me and my gifts... in any case, I cannot help you. I am not ever going back; I will have nothing more to do with them."

"But... y-you can't stay here," Aerie said, her heart visibly sinking as the hopes keeping it buoyant faded away.

"It's far too soon for me to leave," Raptir stated, pointedly turning his back on her and again kneeling. Imoen remained supportively by her friends side.

"Are you okay?" The red head asked. Aerie looked up at her and nodded, no tears in her eyes; maybe she had taken Imoen's words to heart and hadn't expected much from this meeting. Maybe she was trying exceptionally hard to hide her hurt... but whatever the case, there was still business to do. "You really can't stay here you know," she told Raptir, "these people are going to find out what you really are."

"You just don't understand what I'm doing..."

"What you are doing is lying to these people," Aerie spat out, her face hardening, "t-telling them you're some kind of messenger... a Deva..."

"I never told them that," Raptir said, maintaining his cool composure, "some of them assumed that, but I never told them it."

"Lying by omission is still lying, Raptir. A-and you've exploited these people long enough, I think."

"I have never lied to anyone. True, I may not be a divine being myself... but I am a messenger. I was told to come here... to help free these people."

"What a load of beeswax," Imoen said scornfully, "you really expect us to believe that? You're a proven liar, for all the God's sake."

"Why don't you ask the villagers yourself? Before I came, they were much like you are I suspect... wasting their lives in pursuit of wealth, or failing to obtain it spend their time in envy. I taught them that they only need that which is in themselves. Was that a lie? Ask them... ask them if they're happier than they were before. Rather than only thinking of themselves I've taught them to look after each other."

"Uh-huh... so why do you need to take all their gold from them?"

"I haven't taken anything; it was offered to Chauntea. It's all here, in this church."

"Ahh, so the priest was in the scam too?"

"He uses it to purchase books and medicines that these people need, and to share them amongst everyone. There was an old man in this village who broke a leg and could not work, but neither could he afford to have it mended. Now, thanks to the sharing, he is healed. There was no scam involved."

"Well, I... see..." Imoen floundered. Actually, it did all sound pretty good so far, not withstanding that he was still lying about who and what he was. She did still feel that something about all this was 'wrong', but she couldn't explain why... maybe that meant that she was wrong.

"Raptir," Aerie said, her voice softening again as she knelt beside him, "w-who told you to come here?"

"The Winged Mother herself," he told her, "she explained to me that the people on the ground had far greater need of me than our people."

"A-Aerdrie spoke to you?"

"She has done all my life... I don't know why, but I was chosen. And now I speak with Chauntea as well."

"Really?" Imoen scoffed, "don't suppose you can do an impression of either of them? I'd love to know what they sound like..."

"You scoff because it goes beyond your experience of what is possible, but you assure it is the truth."

"Heh... it really doesn't. I just have a bit of trouble believing a word you say..."

"I-is that you meant when you said the others started fearing you?" Aerie interrupted. An unusually bold move, but Imoen let it pass.

"They didn't understand my gift, why I had been chosen above all of them. The priests were the worst; Aerdrie saw through their facades of piousness and devotion. They only truly serve themselves... and I was threat to them you see, because I knew the truth."

"Did... d-did the priests give you anything, Raptir? Any... any medicine?"

"Antidotes... potions. They said it was to help, but really they were trying to take away my gifts. I saw through their lies... you're not here to try and take away my gifts, are you Aerie?"

"N-no," the blonde shook her head and slid her self away, regarding Raptir with some sort of pity or so it looked to Imoen. It was obvious Aerie thought she was on to something; Imoen was on to something too. She still felt she needed to vindicate herself a little for not having said what was wrong before.

"Listen," the red head began, "maybe you really think that you are helping these people... but you have to know we're not going to be the last to come here, right? There's already loads of villages and towns that have heard about a 'Deva', and eventually there's going to be others who will figure out what you really are."

"And so?"

"And so, they're not all as nice as us. You could be putting this village in danger by staying here."

"The Gods will protect us."

"Okay... but on the off chance that the heavenly host doesn't show up in time, what are you going to do?"

"Raptir!" As if on cue, a middle aged Chauntean priest bounded into the church, bolting the doors behind. There was some commotion outside; Imoen thought she heard screams. Mopping his sweaty brow, the priest turned hurriedly to the 'Deva'. "Raptir... w-who?" He froze in fear as he suddenly noticed the two women.

"They are guests of mine, Patrick," Raptir assured him, "What is wrong?"

"Bandits!" The priest cried, "Bandits have come into the village... they started setting fire to the fields... its utter chaos out there!"

For the first time since Aerie had startled him, Raptir seemed shaken, his eyes widening ever so slightly. Aerie was already by one of the very small, narrow windows, joined quickly by Imoen. It was hard to see how many, but they estimated maybe a dozen men and women had entered the village. Their leader was on horseback, a human man in his fifties, his face bearing scars from many battles, grunting orders while the villagers fled into their homes. An elf trotted alongside the horse, his nose and mouth covered by a mask. Ahead of them was a mage, cackling delightedly at himself as he used his power to stun some of the fleeing people. The rest of the attackers were all dressed in dark leather, carrying clubs and shields on their backs, driving all before them with cracks of their long whips.

"Slavers," Aerie corrected the Chauntean priest. Imoen was stood a few centimetres away from her, but she could still feel the tenseness coming over every muscle in Aerie's body.

"What do we do?" Patrick asked of the Deva.

"What do we do?" Raptir repeated, tilting his slightly as if listening for an answer. "We... we pray," he said after a moment, then returned to the kneeling position he'd been found in, "the Gods will protect us... you will protect us, yes? We must have faith... why now? We must trust... we must," Raptir's speech became a low murmuring as his head and torso started swaying back and forth.

"I don't think we should count on that," Imoen sighed.

--

"What you want done with the villagers?" An eager young slave trader asked. From his mount the slave master spat out same black, viscous substance. The village was right on edges, but they were still in Amn where slavery was illegal; it had actually been illegal when Aerie had been a slave. The Amnish authorities however tended to turn a blind eye; after all, the nations coffers were overflowing because of it. Even so, attacking actual Amnish citizens might not be so easy to ignore.

"Round up the healthy children," the grizzled veteran said at last, "but as for the rest; no witnesses."

"So where's this Deva?" The slaver mage paced around in circles, like a lion inside a cage, complete with a mane of wild, reddish hair standing up on its roots. "When's he coming out?"

The wizard caught the gaze of an old woman, peering at him from the window of her home. She immediately retreated into the house, closing the shutters, when she thought she might have been spotted. But it was too late; she had been. The wizard raised his arm and a jet of flame struck the side of the house, the fire starting to spread quickly along the wooden walls and thatched roof and yet the old woman stayed inside, too afraid to come out. The wizard turned back to his comrades, his laughter consisting of a series of high pitched whoops. The master rolled his eyes wearily.

They all heard a crack, but not the crack of whips; this time it was more like the crack of thunder even though there had been no sign of a storm before. The wizard's smile gave way to confusion as a cloud appeared above the house and a torrential down pour doused his flames. The one who had killed his joy stepped into view then; Aerie had pulled the hood of her cloak over her head, a small shield covering her left forearm whilst she bore a staff in her right hand.

It did seem a rather odd coincidence that the slavers had shown up just after Imoen had warned of the dangers of attracting people here. Aerie had wondered before if the Bhaalspawn had some ability to change reality around them that they just weren't conscious of; after all, they were half God. Who could say what the extents of their powers really were? There were lots of little things that had happened in her previous adventures with Imoen though, important clues and items appearing exactly when they needed them... it may explain how they'd defied death so many times. Still, Aerie doubted Imoen could cause a group of slavers to come into existence. It surely had to be a coincidence, and one that suited the elf just fine. After having her hopes of communicating with her parents dashed she needed something to let her frustrations out on.

"Who the hell are you?" The wizard asked slowly.

"Does it matter?" Aerie shrugged.

"Nah... I guess not," a second jet of flame erupted, this one threatening to engulf the Avariel. Aerie's staff flew out of hand, suspending itself just in front of her where it began to spin so fast that it was almost as if a much larger shield had materialised, diverting the fire harmlessly around her.

Seeing that his first attack had failed, the wizard then made a big mistake. He obviously planned to crush her with one of his most powerful spells, but the casting of it would take a few seconds charging the necessary energy. A few seconds were a lot more than Aerie needed to come up with and launch her own attack. He wouldn't make any more mistakes.

'No second chances,' she thought, 'not for people like this...'

The staff stopped rotating and straightened itself horizontally... with a flick of her wrist it turned and streaked through the air towards the wizard. Everyone heard the thud and, utterly shocked, the wizard looked down to see the shaft of the weapon embedded through his chest... with his last seconds of life he fell to his knees, turned to his comrades and reached out to them. The master looked on dispassionately, feeling no grief or sorrow whatsoever.

"Shields," he ordered as the wizard fell to the side. The remaining slavers very quickly arranged themselves into a phalanx. A dozen heavily armed men and women like that, advancing slowly and cautiously on a single petite elven woman may have seemed comical; if you didn't know that Aerie was, according to the Cowled Wizards, the tenth best spell slinger in and around Amn. In fact, they'd ranked her above both Nalia and Imoen but probably no good would come of telling Aerie that.

As the phalanx advanced, a couple of the slavers were behind it firing crossbow bolts over the shoulders of their comrades. The bolts bounced harmlessly off an invisible shield, but even so Aerie started to step backwards, drawing them in. She launched a series of magic missiles, tiny golden orbs that for the most part just struck the iron shields of the slavers and dissipated. She did however strike one of them in the face and another in the legs causing the others to instantly move closer together to fill in the gaps.

As Aerie drew them in Imoen waited, hidden behind the Inn. She could she her friend retreating in front of her; she just needed the slavers to appear so she could unleash the spell she'd prepared. When they did she uttered the final word, and the skies opened up on them. A bolt of lightning struck the centre of the phalanx, and then strands of electricity arched and whipped out, leaping from the slaver to slaver. It wasn't long before the smell of molten metal and burnt flesh reached her. Aerie sighed in relief, while Imoen gave her a thumbs up... but they'd forgotten about the elf who was with the slavers.

He must have suspected that Aerie hadn't come out by herself and gone around the back of the Inn also. Noticing Aerie's jubilant expression turn to one of shock and horror, the red head turned about just in time to avoid the scimitar swinging over her head.

Aerie wanted to run and help her friend, but she was faced with her own problems. The slave master, still on horseback, charged swinging his axe. She rolled to the side avoiding it, looking up in time to see the steed turned about for another pass.

Her heart raced and her body quivered and the beginnings of a smile appeared even while there was fear in her eyes... thrilled and yet shivering at the same time. It was so hard for Aerie to explain even to herself; she really wasn't a fan of killing, even when she knew she had to. But the bit before that, the actual fighting itself... that was actually kind of... fun? Perhaps it was because she'd been basically sat still for so long before becoming an adventurer that the rush of battle was for her almost intoxicating. As for death; she'd seen enough corpses by now that it no longer shocked her.

She looked to the fallen wizard and her hand reached out; for a second or two his body shook as her staff worked its way free and returned to her hand just in time. Praying for every bit of strength the Gods could spare, she swung it at the legs of the horse. The rider went flying as the beast collapsed, its neck breaking under the weight of its body as it rolled over. The slave master however was an experienced warrior and was up on his feet very quickly, again trying to take Aerie's head off with his axe.

She deflected the blow with her shield, but even with the strength of her Gods Aerie still weighed the same that she usually did, and the momentum of the blow knocked her to the ground several feet away. The master kept pressing his attacks, Aerie managing to block or avoid all of them but continually kept so off balance that she couldn't use her magic to retaliate. Before long her shield had become so battered dented and useless that she had to discard it. It was then the master tried moving in for the kill.

Aerie was still on her knees when he swung down, she blocked it by holding up her staff with both hands. Still the slaver kept pushing down, using his much greater weight to push her further and further down... Aerie shivered, her eyes wide; she could feel the magical strength leaving her body. Within seconds she would just be herself again and completely at this murderers mercy...

--

Imoen didn't really enjoy fighting that much at all; she'd always known that compared to most other people she was puny. There really wasn't much machismo in her, or whatever the female equivalent of that was. She relied on feints and trickery to see her through most battles, avoiding going toe to toe as much as possible. Yes she would fight Aerie if she had to, perhaps because for some reason she still imagined Aerie as just this little blonde who couldn't possibly hurt anything (ironic really since her own faux innocence and childishness was the deceit Imoen most often used). Or the dryad... dryads typically weren't great at hand to hand either, like her relying on trickery.

Jaheira tried telling her that physical strength didn't matter; there were people who learnt techniques so they could use the opponent's own strength against them. Well, those were people Imoen wanted to fight against... they'd have to wet themselves whenever they saw Imoen coming and realised that she had nothing they could use against her.

But there were times when going toe to toe was just completely unavoidable, and in those cases the advantage Imoen had was usually her speed. The elf however was able to match most of her movements. The two seemed engaged in some kind of dance, with Imoen focusing all her mental and physical efforts into avoiding getting diced by those scimitars... it soon dawned on her that the elf was not only able to keep up, but was actually a little bit faster than her... oh, well...

The elf slashed Imoen across the thigh and the red head immediately collapsed, crying and whining piteously like a wounded puppy.

"Oh... oh Gods... please," she begged tearfully. The elf assassin merely smirked, raising his sword to take off her head. But Imoen's tears vanished just as quickly as she had been able to fake them, and the elf's eyes suddenly widened and bulged.

Imoen, now up on her knees, pulled back her fist as the elf male doubled over his male parts. The red head felt no shame for having used dirty tactics; this was fighting for your life, not a sport (not that she felt much shame for cheating even then). In one swift, fluid movement, she got up and behind the elf, pulled out a knife and cut out his throat. He gargled sickeningly for a second, and then he fell.

Like Aerie, Imoen was used to seeing corpses by now and was no longer shocked by them, or by herself. She lamented for a moment at how tragically easy it had been... but then realised that she didn't want to give the impression to others, or herself, that she was stood around now admiring her handiwork rather than regretting the things she had to do to in self defence. She worked hard to repress the feelings of being powerful and went to check how Aerie was doing.

--

Not great, it happened.

As the last of her strength faded, Aerie grunted and pushed the axe a little to the side so that it didn't come down on her head. Instead, it gashed the side of her arm, drawing a lot of blood. Able to slip away in time, Aerie rolled to feet as a wave of dizziness swept over her. Fortunately, she had contingency magic that immediately closed the wound but not too many of those left.

But the master saw this and changed his attack. Realising that wounding her would just cause her to heal, he instead picked up and lashed out with it. The instrument of torture coiled around the Avariel's throat and she felt her body lifted through the air and then dragged through the dirt. Her contingencies would heal her if she was injured, but wouldn't do anything if she was choked to death.

But even as he grinned and relished the girl's hopeless struggling, there was one other factor that the experienced veteran had failed to plan for; the villagers, impressed by the blonde girl's bravery, had managed to organise themselves. The master had to let go of the whip as he was struck by a shovel and then rushed and beaten down by a group of angry men and women.

Aerie was sat up and managed to uncoil herself just as the beaten man was being tied to a post. The villagers parted as the bedraggled elf got up and approached, still rubbing her sore throat.

"Whore!" The master spat out, "you think this is over? Soon as the others find out..."

Aerie's blue eyes stared back coolly. Imoen was right; they always did just say things like that. And this man... he had surely done to countless others what others had done to her. Still, Aerie was never one for public speaking or for giving long speeches and lectures. She retrieved her broken shield and, holding it in both holds, swung it upwards smashing the man's jaw. It didn't really make her feel better, but still the villagers all cheered for her at least.

"Imoen...!" The Avariel gasped suddenly... she'd gotten so caught up in the moment that she'd almost forgotten her friend.

"I'm okay," the red head said, strolling up beside her. The elf's panic subsided. "Are you okay?" Imoen asked and Aerie nodded twice. "Fun day, huh?"

Before Aerie could answer, they day became even more 'fun'. Villagers started pointing up at the sky. When the heroes followed all the gazes, they saw Raptir circling above, so high up that at first Imoen mistook him for a vulture. But she soon saw him very clearly; Raptir seemed to reach an invisible peak, then turned and dived straight at her. The red head didn't realise what he was doing until it was too late. He swooped down, his shoulder striking her in the stomach. Avariel didn't weigh much, but being shoulder tackled by someone moving at over a hundred miles per hour still utterly smashed all the wind out of you... the momentum lifted Imoen clear off the ground herself, sending her flying into the second storey of a building. She was incredibly lucky that there was a cart full of hay there when she slid back down.

"What are you doing!?" Aerie screamed angrily as Raptir trotted to a halt. He turned on her, his cool disposition completely vanished and his eyes now filled with irrational and terrible hate.

"You... you're just like the others," he hissed, "you and your friend... you just want to steal my gifts... what?" His head turned as he started to listen to someone who wasn't there. "Yes... yes, you brought these others here as well! You will die for that!"

"No Raptir," Aerie said, trying to keep her voice as soft and as gentle as possible. The Villagers were all stunned and too confused to do anything; Aerie had just saved them from the slavers, but this was the Deva who had been teaching them. Why was he behaving like this? "I-Imoen was right... these people came here because of you..."

"Liar!" He spat again, his anger growing by the second. "I know the truth... they've told me the truth..."

"Who told you Raptir?" Aerie's eyes started to water; she already sensed that there was only one way this could end. "W-was it Aerdrie? Chauntea... no... I-I bet this was a different voice, right? One you've not heard before..."

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"Don't listen... do not listen to her deceit," he murmured, "get out of my head..."

"You should not have ran away, Raptir... t-the priests weren't trying to take anything, they were trying to help you..."

"Lies!" He screamed, pulling at his own hair. He was no longer the angelic figure they saw when they'd first arrived. Rather, the tightness of his facial muscles made him look like some rabid animal.

Imoen, though still plenty sore and suspecting that maybe she'd broken a rib or three, had managed to get up out of the cart and was sneaking up on Raptir from behind. Had he been human, she might have gotten to him unnoticed despite the pain she was in, but she'd forgotten how much sharper an elf's senses were. Raptir's wings unfolded and he spun them around, striking Imoen's face and knocking her down again.

"Yup... real fun day," the red head gasped, trying to stem the flow of blood from her nose. Aerie tried to get to Raptir while he was distracted, but had only taken a few steps before his gaze was locked on her again... she could only watch helplessly as a young girl, about seven or eight, foolishly wandered out of her arm only to be snatched up into the arms of Deva, turning her to face Aerie like a shield.

"Shhhh," he tried to calm the very confused, crying child, "how would like to fly with me?" Normally, the girl would probably have leapt at the chance, but so much had already happened today that she was simply paralysed with fear; not to mention the Deva was acting in a strange way she'd never seen before.

"Y-you don't really want to hurt her, Raptir," Aerie said, more to assure herself.

"If you really care about this child, then you will leave here now!" The other Avariel spat.

"I-I can't do that," Aerie shook her head sadly, "you're very sick, Raptir... i-if you don't let me help you then you will end up hurting someone, whether you mean to or not."

"More lies!" He shouted, now tears streaming down his face. "No... I can't... I can't stop... just... just go!"

"Raptir," Aerie spoke sadly, closing her eyes, "I... I'm so sorry..."

"Why...?" And then he saw why. Perhaps the last act of the man he really was underneath his illness was to let the girl go, pushing her away just as Imoen pulled the trigger. Or maybe he just wanted to be a martyr. The red head had a lot of time to line up the shot, but although she had only been aiming for his shoulder his sudden movement just at the last second meant that the crossbow bolt went through his heart. The Deva fell on his back, his white wings spread out either side. As Imoen, Aerie and all the villagers gathered round they saw the look on his face was peaceful... almost thankful. Far more like the heavenly being they'd thought he was than the sick, twisted man he'd been in those last moments.

"What happened to him?" One of the villagers asked.

"He... he was never what you thought he was," Aerie explained.

"He was just a man," Imoen picked up, "a sick man."

"But why was he sick?" An elder woman asked, her eyes narrowing suspiciously at the two adventurers. "Sure, it were all fine until these two got here."

"T-the voices in his head," the blonde elf tried to explain, a pleading edge to her voice, "he thought it was the Gods telling him what to do, but... i-it was just sickness. I think there was a part of him still in there, t-trying to fight it, but... i-it just became too much..."

"But he had wings!" A man cried out, prodding Aerie with a stick. This was what Imoen had been afraid of; everyone had been jubilant when the slavers had been defeated, but now the atmosphere had changed and they were getting blamed for ruining everything. "You saw it... we all saw it. He... he was a Deva, and you killed him," sneers and jeers as the newcomers found themselves completely encircled by the hostile faces of the villagers.

"H-he was Avariel... a-a winged elf..."

"Right," Imoen raised her voice in support, "look at the ears fer cryin'out loud..." but the villagers didn't seem to be buying it. None of them had ever heard of an Avariel and so held on stubbornly to their Deva theory. "Come on... an ordinary bolt couldn't kill an Angel," she pointed out. For the most part, the villagers remained ready to stab them to death with their pitchforks, but at least a few were showing doubts.

"Alright, alright," a thick set man stepped forward and others all backed off a little in response to his gestures. Imoen recognised the man who had bought her a reprieve as the Innkeeper, which didn't surprise her. Solid, salt of the earth, stand up fellows the lot of them. "Been enough killing ain't there? So listen... you got any proof of what you're saying?"

Imoen realised she had better or the Innkeep wasn't going to be able to hold all the others back for long; but then she realised that the answer was really quite obvious...

"Aerie," the red head whispered gently to her friend, "you... you have to show them what you are." The Avariel looked at her, clearly stuggling; the idea of exposing her body in front of so many strangers and having them gawk at it like some kind of freak show... she'd had enough of that. "There's no other way," the red head said, putting her arms around her. Aerie's head immediately fell onto Imoen's shoulder. "Listen... you do this and you can have whatever treat you want. Biscuits, cookies, cakes... I'll even make them for you," the elf shook her head at that, "okay, I won't try to cook."

Aerie gently pushed herself away, a smile (only a little forced) on her face as she undid her belts.

"Help me," the elf said. Imoen complied, pulling the tunic up over her friends head as the elf pulled back. She immediately took back the cloth, using it to cover her breasts as, now wearing only her boots and tights, she turned her back to all the villagers. They weren't sure what they were seeing at first; the first to step forward and examine the scars where her wings had been was the little girl threatened earlier by Raptir...

"You... you had wings," the child gasped, skipping round to face Aerie from the front. "You flew?"

"Yes... I-I flew."

"So... you're like him, then?"

"Not like him... not exactly. I was,,, I-I am, an Avariel. We live in mountains, flying with the Great Eagles."

"What happened to your wings?"

"I lost them... I... I lose a lot of things," Aerie said, cheek stained by a single tear. She had exposed her body to these people she hardly knew; she felt in no way obligated to confide any more.

"So it's true, then?" A man said. "Everything the Deva... the Avariel... said, everything he told us... it was all a lie?"

"No," one of the villagers shook her head, "maybe he was sick, and maybe he really was just a man after all... but it doesn't change that some of the things he said were all true, right?" There was much nodding and a general murmuring of agreement.

"We'll give him a proper burial," suggested another, "least we can do, right?"

"Alright then," another thick set man slapped his palms together, "let's get this place cleaned up then, shall we?" The whole community dispersed and set about removing the bodies from the streets. Maybe it was just that the idea of work was a welcome distraction from all that had transpired, but still... the two young adventurers couldn't help but be amazed, almost stunned, at how forgiving they all were after learning the truth; that they weren't really special or chosen for some higher purpose. But, in the end, life just has to go on doesn't it?

Aerie got dressed and knelt beside Raptir, saying a prayer over him in her native tongue... although Imoen could understand quite a bit of elven she still struggled sometimes to follow the peculiar accent and dialect of her Avariel friend. She gathered it was a prayer to the winged mother to take care of this troubled soul.

"You sure you're okay?" The red head asked when Aerie had finished. Again the blonde nodded, but her face revealed that she was heart broken.

"How's your chest?" The elf asked, still sat down. "D-do you want anything?"

"Nah, it's not as bad as I thought," Imoen said, although she was wheezing slightly, "Good night's sleep and it'll probably be fine. You really absolutely, positively sure you're okay? You don't wanna talk about anything?"

"I..." Aerie's brows furrowed for a moment, "I suppose it was pretty selfish of me anyway. I-if my parents are still alive, then they must have assumed that I'd died a long time ago... i-it would be unfair to them, really, for me to just suddenly reappear after so long."

"Well, I never had a real mom and dad exactly," Imoen said as she sat down as well, "I guess the closest to a father was Winthrop... listen, they'd love you no matter what. You'll see them again one day, and they won't have forgotten you. In the meantime, it's not all bad is it? Travelling with me..."

"No," Aerie laughed, "not all bad at all," she said, sharing a hug.

"Great," Imoen looked around at the villagers cleaning up the aftermath of their battle. She didn't know what would become of the Slave master; maybe they'd hang him later. More likely they'd contact the authorities and let them hang him. "Well, not much else we can screw up around here. Let's go back."