"Only that the dress the ambassador is wearing is clearly out of fashion, a blatant attempt to distract the court from the matter at hand and it is more appropriate for a docks prostitute than a diplomatic envoy. Thank you."
That comment still made her snicker as she and the elf revised the tricks she could use to win the trial by combat. She sat cross-legged on the hard stone floor of Tyr's temple, small flasks of colorful or translucent liquids in front of her and Sand pacing behind her, his cloak whispering against the marble surface.
"Zealot's blade, from Ember's corpses e specially brewed for human targets. Goodbye Kiss, and Drow poison, my two favorites for unconsciousness. Carrion crawler brain juice for paralysis…And I'll take wyvern's poison to lower his endurance."
"You have a strategy already?"
"Running seems good. Poisoning him, hit and run and throw alchemist fire, and acid and pointy objects. If I had time and they hadn't put guards around the perimeter of the temple after Khelgar burst in I would quietly sneak away and ensnare the fighting arena with lighting traps and lots of caltrops." She sighted and looked to her lawyer. "I don't stand a chance against him do I?"
"Oh, I'm quite sure you survived worse." Sand made a dismissive gesture.
"Not with a bloodthirsty mob watching." Fox whispered as the wizard left. "What do you think?" She asked the statue. "Yes. I also believe your statues need a makeover. That armor is out of fashion and I'm sure no god uses the same armor a millennia after getting it." Fox arched backwards and preformed a handstand, closing her eyes. The she resumed standing position and looked over her weapons and tricks.
Being shackled to that city was a source of headaches.
OOOOOOO
The rite of Tyr was a sacred time before a combat. It had been part of his education as a paladin and had been part of his admission as a Gray Guard. And both opponents were in the temple, on separated meditation rooms. Casavir's blood had run cold when he saw Lorne. The kind of brute Luskan's streets produced with little self control. What kept that thug from storming from his rite room to Fox's, killing the priests in his way and finally the rogue?
Suddenly he got vivid image of her, laying on blood, her smoke eyes lifeless… his pace quickened. Hlam looked at him as he came through the corridors and entered the rite room Sand had told him.
For his relief she was awake and well. She was dancing. The same movements he had seen under the moonlight and starlight on several occasions. Flowing gently, without violence or passion, as gentle, comforting and soothing as the moonlight. The same motions he had seen on the Well, on the Flagon's rooftop, Duskwood…
She turned, opening her eyes. Her balance faltered and she moved carefully to regain it. Fox actually blushed and averted him, her hands clasped in front of her body. He came in, closing the door behind him, without a word.
"I could be praying. But then I wouldn't care. Dancing is what I do to pray." She justified, stammering. She closed her eyes. "You pray for your dead. I dance for mine." Now she was regaining a little of defiance.
Casavir nodded without a word to berate her. He never took his eyes from her, worried. Fox looked around before sitting. Casavir felt his heart sink. She was too young. Too young for everything.
"How are you feeling?"
"Sick. Tired. Scared." He sat next to her as she curved, her eyes fixed on the boots. "I don't want to kill him. I know him. He is my best friend's brother. He was the guy who taught me to kick a man in the… well… evade unrequited attention. His mother treated me like one of her own. And she asked me to look for him…"
"You must not surrender to him."
"That's deep insight-man. But I know that. The Lorne I knew is gone, long gone. This Lorne is a murderer. He will break my neck as easily as he killed the people of Ember. The difference is that I'll struggle and gain more two, three minutes, than them."
"You're allowed to use whatever tricks and abilities you have. Even poisons." He looked toward her flasks. Fox sighted.
"And that raised my chances to five minutes. I know you don't approve my poisons and clever tricks and lies and etc. But look at me. I'm puny and a girl. And a rogue. I don't have your death wish impulses…"
"You threw yourself in front of an orc ax to save me, my lady." Casavir said with a little mirth, his fingers tracing the place where it had cut her. She glared.
"Different circumstances."
"I know you refused Khelgar. But let me fight for you."
"No." She uncorked one of the poison flasks and began dipping knives and needles in it.
"Isn't that dangerous my lady?" He asked cautiously.
"I'm not dumb enough to carry poisons to which I'm not resilient or immune. Goodbye kiss and drow poison have almost no effect on me. Years of use and ingesting them. I'm not touching Zealot's Blade. That's an assassin's tool. I would be no better than Lorne is now if I did use it. The wyvern… I'm resilient but not much… so… I'll put it here." She pushed a long dagger and began to coat it, carefully to avoid cuts and sheathed it again. "Carrion crawler is just disgusting. I won't even uncork it."
"My lady you should let me champion you." He asked again as she hid the knives and attached the needles in some throwing device.
"No." She put the things away. "And don't ask again. I don't want anyone dying because of me. I'm perfectly capable of fighting. I'm just complaining because that man is going to hurt me a lot. And I'm scared as hell of the pain. Do you think he will help me?"
Casavir looked towards Tyr's statue, appraisingly. Fox slid closer, nestling near him. He kissed the top of her head, putting his arms around her.
"Why wouldn't he help you?" He asked her slowly. "You have no guilt. Your heart is as pure as a unicorn." She looked up. He was smiling. "I'm sorry my lady. Sometimes it is hard to set myself apart from the training a paladin had here."
"That's sweet. Unoriginal and kind of bizarre but…" She smiled and parted from him. "Thank you for coming here. I… how did I looked on that trial?"
"Calm, mocking her at every turn. You and Sand maneuvered that woman to stab her own eye." He whispered, putting a loose strand behind her ear, caressing the silver earrings. "Here. Take this… It has special proprieties. Use it." Fox held the silver and glass container, carefully.
"Thank you Casavir."
"Don't die Fox."
"I don't want to. I just want to run away. To get rid of Neverwinter and Nasher and his knights and… Never mind. You're one of Neverwinter's knights."
"You will be able to get free some day Fox. It is your nature. Sooner or later Nasher will make a mistake and you'll take advantage of it and do to him what you will do to Luskan tomorrow. Beat them at their own game and profit with it."
Fox looked up, to the honest blue eyes and the man that had, two days before scolded her because she had broken into a house and killed Leldon and saved Neeshka, and stole some paintings, gold and item. Without harming anyone else.
"I can't believe you just said that." Casavir smiled, his first open smile. Somehow it made him look like a greedy angel, his eyes darkening and shimmering blue. And it made her blush again. And left her there. She looked to the statue. "He is trying to convince me. And Sharess be praised its working. Is this because I agreed to ask Ophala to give you a new armor?"
OOOOOO
"Thanks for the trust." Fox smiled, donning her mask as Grobnar let slip that Shandra had cried all night. Then she stepped into the arena, seeing Lorne on the other side. Flames crackled behind her as the guard locked the way behind her with a wall of fire and oil.
They walked to the middle of the arena and stood as Nasher bellowed the rules of battle. She didn't look directly to Lorne but behind the mask her eyes followed the nervous movement of his hand over the falchion's grip.
Her hands were not still either, fingertips tracing the smooth surfaces of the flasks of acid and fire, the handles of her throwing knives, the small pockets that hid caltrops, dusts and little bombs… She crouched, her back arching, hands touching the ground, eyes half closed as she took some breaths to steady herself.
Nasher waited to hear the pleased cries of the crowd before letting out the starting word. She hissed and pounced forward at the same time that Lorne moved. Then she danced into the shadows and reappeared right in front of the brute, pouncing into the shadows again when his falchion came down, reappearing behind him, making the man turn.
She repeated the teasing act until the man was pent up on frustration. This time when she reappeared, as her hands touched the ground she pulled her legs, forward, balancing over them, jumping. Lorne growled and raised his weapon. Fox twirled in midair, avoiding the blade, although not completely, her hands grabbing Lorne's shoulders, her feet kicking his back, knocking him down, sinking the wyvern coated dagger into his back, using the brute's back as leverage for a backward somersault, crouching again as she landed.
Fox dodged into the shadows and came out, throwing a hail of needles toward the soft spots of the man's armor. He still moved with the same speed, she noticed. Stupid you. Assassins were supposed to be trained so. And a brute like him is so bullheaded he becomes even tougher.
Next plan. Fox moved again, running around him once more, increasing her speed. Take down vital points. No killing still. First focus. The wrists. Make him unable to hold his weapon. She mislead Lorne in her circular running.
Behind the mask her eyes went wide as he predicted so and used the falchion accordingly. It cut her kimono clean, from the waist to her shoulder. It only bit the flesh from her shoulder blade up but the acid made it ache and deepen. Not wanting to give up Fox performed the rest of the movement, even with the drawback. Her right boot landed precisely over his forearm and in a flash the claws slid out and sank into the wrist, rotating to open the wound and cut the nerves clean.
As expected his left hand, came against her as a fist even as the right lost its strength and the falchion fell to the dusty arena floor. The punch threw her to the ground, whimpering in pain. She retreated to the shadows, watching. Lorne grabbed the falchion with his left hand, resuming battle ready stance. The kimono slid down her arms, pooling at her waist. She took it off, as she came out of the shadows with another pouncing run, claws ready.
Lorne was nowhere near done, even weakened by the wyvern's poison and right hand maimed. She tumbled forward, hissing in pain as the acidic wound on her shoulder grew. The advantage of having a small body was that it could beat bigger foes. Lessons from other races. She passed between his legs, sinking and twisting claw tips against the tender and unprotected zone behind the knees. And just to gain foot again she clawed his lower back and kicked his ass as a trampoline for another back flip.
Lorne roared, using the little strength left on his knees to turn, sword coming towards her. The coup would have cut her clean by the middle if she hadn't all the spells. And even with those, wakened because the top was missing were not enough to prevent the damage. The serrated blade of the falchion sank into her belly, the brutish impulse throwing her against the wall that kept the combatants inside the arena.
Neeshka bit her tail tip until it bled. Shandra gasped, hands clasped in a silent plead. Grobnar murmured that he was pretty sure his song had done something to help. Of the urchins only Wolf was present. He was whispering that she had to get up.
Fox was fallen on the ground like a discarded doll, crumpled near the wall, blood staining the dirt near her. Lorne was groaning loudly, kneeling, bleeding hard from his wounds. Then her roared, going berserk, getting up in a spree of adrenalin, charging.
Fox opened her eyes as she hear the roar. Thanks to her mask the skin and organs were knitting themselves together. She sprang into action, pressing an arm against her stomach, waiting, dodging in the last minute. Lorne in his blind rage crashed against the stone walls. Fox slid tiredly into the shadows, sitting against the wall to recuperate.
Lorne roared meanwhile, calling her coward and worse things. She didn't pay any attention. Even regenerating with her mask the acid opened the wounds once and again. She had to dispatch him fast and get some healing. It would have gone so much more smoothly if he had fallen into a comatose with drow poison…
She steadied herself, getting up. The rage should be passing. He was giving weight, his wounds bleeding harder once again. Fox moved next to him, silently. When he kneeled she came out one again, doing the same to his left wrist, injuring it deeply enough to prevent sword use. The she claw punched him in the abdomen, kicking him in the head as a final coup. From blood loss and exhaustion that followed a berserk state Lorne fell unconscious.
Fox gritted her teeth, pressing her arm harder against her stomach grumbling her pain as she walked away from the arena, cursing loudly all the way to a cleric, ignoring Nasher praise and sentence.
OOOOOO
How did that much blood got under her nails? Fox used the file once again to pry the remnants of dried red dust. Shandra smiled, putting some more clothes and dresses over the table and bed and every flat surface of the room. Neeshka played with the jewelry, prying the magical from the pretty from the expensive. Elanee looked dazed by Shandra's fashion frenzy.
Qara scoffed at them, as any noble born would do to a poser. Fox decided to ignore the sorceress for that night. Be nice even. She blew the dried blood from her nails and looked around to the other females of the group.
"Anyway you shouldn't have let him live." Neeshka held two rings and chose one, tossing the other to a box.
"What if he comes after you?" Shandra asked worriedly.
"He is dead by now." Fox stated.
"You let him live. And Grobnar swore he saw him and that woman leave the city." Fox scoffed, crossing her legs. "He will come… he is an assassin after all…"
"Oh yes. I would like to see that mountain sneak on Fox." Neeshka laughed. "But truly you shouldn't have…"
"He is dead now. He failed his purpose. He called too much attention over himself. He probably failed more missions because of me." Fox stood and closed her window, looking out for some time. "If I was a fulltime evil wizard overlord…"
Qara puffed up, standing. "So you admit it is a wizard." As if that proved something. Taking from the little she had seen of the sorceress interaction with Sand it would seem the snobbish girl intended to prove wizards as the scourge of the world.
"Yes, of course. To dig up something as dubious as «The king of Shadows» he had had to read at least a really moldy and boring magic Tome." Fox grimaced as Qara huffed and left the room. "But back to the subject. If I was evil and had a servant that failed me all the time." She smiled openly and snapped her fingers, creating a black spark. "And I followed as he left. They went south. They did not go to Luskan. As far as I could tell they went somewhere near skymirror and Eridis. Something there Elanee?"
"Nothing but ruins and taints." The druid answered, her slim fingers braiding some colorful ribbons. Her eyes averted everybody. The druid refuges where a murky subject.
"A power gathering zone then. No matter." She pulled he disguise kit. "Who's up for a makeover…" She stopped, looking toward her dress conquered bed and to fashion digger Shandra. "I'm not wearing that."
"But it's pretty." Shandra held up a dress.
"It's pink. And frilly. I hate pink." Fox whined.
"You can't go all your life wearing black and blue. And besides there will be important people here."
"Who? Darmon? Last time we talked he was half drunk and tried…" Fox laughed, tossing wet hair back. "He was so embarrassed next morning… Cormick? He knows me since I was little. Brellaina? I won't even appear on the common room if she's here. Nevalle? That man is not going to appear after what I told him about his precious city. Nor is he too thrilled about Casavir being around."
"Hey… did you notice?" Neeshka closed in, watching Shandra. "The farm girl likes the blond nitwit."
"That's so precious." Fox drawled with a wicked grin. This time even Elanee joined the two rogue's laugh. Shandra tried to regain the dignity she lost with the red face, grabbed her dress and leaving. "Come back later for the final details! We want you looking pretty for the knight" Fox yelled at the corridor. "Even if he is more likely to cry out Nasher's name when you're at it." Neeshka took some jewels, snickering to herself. Elanee stayed and waited. "What?"
"I just wanted to make sure you're all right." Fox just nodded, unsurprised. "Khelgar is worried too…"
"Don't worry. Now that everything is done… in two days I'll let you all leave. And I'll leave too. Free again." She whispered.
"Khai Yee… And the king of shadows?"
"Stop calling me that."
"It's your name no matter what you prefer to be called. And I've called you by you chosen name long enough."
"I have many names Elanee once of the Mere. That is just another one amongst many."
"It is the name you mother gave you."
"Were you there to know? I'm Fox now. And the king of shadows is my problem. No more people depending on me. I will fight him, yes. But I will stand alone."
Elanee frowned. "You didn't let any of us stand alone. Even Qara. When she needed… you protected her. She didn't deserve it but you fought to keep her safe." The druid defied, leaving the room. "None of us will let you do that."
OOOOOO
There was music, there was a cheery disposition, there was drink and food. Fox grabbed the colorful ball and continued juggling, tossing one to Dora. The girl sing-sang a rime to match Grobnar's words. The others giggled, clapping hands as she struggled to maintain the three red and purple balls in motion. Fox left the circle, looking around.
Neeshka, in her red dress stole some of the groggy militia man. Fox smirked to herself and took mental note that she was six pick-pocketing behind the tiefling. Khelgar and Cormick exchanged brawling stories with young enthusiasts. Qara was nowhere to be seen, thankfully. She smiled and picked the tray that Sal had just put over the bar, laughing with Darmon before moving away.
Shandra and Nevalle had found a quiet spot to talk. She smiled and headed there to disturb. The farm girl had indeed put the pink dress and had refused her advices in makeup. But looked pretty anyway. The dress didn't look so bad after put on either.
Elanee was still dazed, wearing a green modest dress, sitting in front of a steaming mug, keeping to herself. As for her she was wearing the pants and boots of her militia Fox, a dark-blue lace corset underneath a loose silk black shirt.
After she broke the dreamy mood around the soon-to-be fighter and nine knight she headed to Bishop's table, sitting near the corner, putting a tankard in front of him.
"Here you go sweetie." He looked up appraisingly. "Still mad at me? Not to worry. We'll be free of each other tomorrow. Take this as a… goodbye celebration. For you no more Duncan and no more me. For me… unbound again."
"The offer is still on, Fox." She smiled and shifted her weight, crossing legs and leaning over him.
"You know… I kind of like you. And don't get me wrong… but they were right in being afraid that I would follow into your bed." Fox kissed his forehead. "Still I rather be on my own. And I don't trust you."
"And you want the paladin." He snickered, waving his tankard toward Casavir. The rogue stood and gave him a sly smile.
"If it warms your black slimy heart think of me as the kind of girl who likes to make the chaste and pure fall." She turned, taking some steps back, her eyes gleaming at him. "You have fallen enough. So where is the fun in seducing you?"
Sand and Casavir shared a table, seemingly discussing something. When she was near enough she overheard. About the merits of an argumentation and a trial by combat. Still rambling about her judgment. Shaking her head she put the tray over the table and gave Sand one of the magical charms they had found. As thanks, she told him, moving again, sitting on the bar, next to Duncan.
"Uncle? What are you thinking?" Duncan looked up.
"Just remembering lass. Your friends make me remind the days of adventuring…" He smiled, wistfully. "You all right?"
"I guess I am." She looked at her boots. "I'll miss them."
"You shouldn't leave like that. You're their leader lass."
"That's an illusion that I will abide no longer." Fox looked away. "They just want an excuse to do things they had planed long ago. And I'm that convenient excuse. Khelgar used me to get the trials of his monk daydream come true. Neeshka used my presence to get rid of the competition. Elanee sees in me some kind of avatar of the salvation of the land. Grobnar is a sweet little guy and so far the one who is contempt with himself and likes me because I hear him without laughing. Outwardly. Qara downright hates me. I reciprocate that. She's crazy and someday she'll have to go down. Bishop hates me because he hates you and would use my body as a mean to get revenge on whatever he blames you for. Sand as been compelled to be with me. He likes me now because I helped him kick Luskan back to their hole… Casavir is like a lost puppy. Also sees in me nothing more than another solider that accomplishes things. Shandra's scared. And looks at me like some kind of hero. Which I'm not. "
"If you say so."
"Elanee talked to you didn't she?"
"Aye. She did. But I understand. You'll do what you need until you realize you have stronger bonds with all of them."
Fox scoffed. "Well I want to do something before leaving… Bring out the elven wine."
OOOOOO
Casavir sighted and pulled her up. Fox slapped his hands away, in a prideful way, straightening.
"I can still walk. I'm not…" And before moving two steps forward she fell again. Casavir caught her before she collapsed completely. Fox just laughed going limp on his arms, her eyes foggy and shiny. "Guess I can't. But I don't need carrying. I'll… put me down." She wiggled free, turning, hobbling to the side, using the wall to brace herself, sliding down it, groaning miserably as she lowered her head.
Drunk to the point she couldn't stand or walk straight. He pulled her up a little roughly. She slid away from him again, falling to the corridor floor, giggling. This time he picked her up, cradling her against him, one arm around the waist, her head resting against his shoulder.
How many bottles had Duncan allowed her to drink? He thought as she groaned, her arms sliding up his body, going around his neck, her nails digging through is shirt, complaining quietly about the motion. He sighted. If she could throw up she would feel a little better… Casavir held her head gently, stopping for a moment.
"Could you make the room stop too…" she drawled, her lips following his neckline, nibbling his earlobe. "You really handsome…" She whispered, her hand caressing the skin underneath his shirt. Her breath felt heavy.
He shook his head, moving on, seeing her door on the end of the corridor. The girl whimpered in each step, her eyes closed. Casavir whispered a lesser prayer, feeling her settle down against him.
He opened her door and closed it after coming in, laying her on the bed. She grumped and tried to sit. Casavir kept her laid.
"You shouldn't have drank so much." He said carefully. Fox opened her eyes and smiled, reaching for him, caressing the skin, pulling him gently, kissing him earnestly. Casavir leaned carefully, planting his hands on each side of her, steadying himself, to keep himself from falling over her lithe form. She didn't taste like wine… He felt her pulling him closer. He had to stop before…
Suddenly his balance was lost when he could open his eyes he found her straddling him, her eyes gleeful and clear, her hands roaming up him, a sly smile on her lips.
"I didn't." She looked into his blue eyes, her smile turning into a gentle twist of her lips. "And I'll say I'm sorry would you forgive me right away before you begin lecturing me." Fox leaned and crossed her arms over his chest, resting her chin there, eyes closing. "But I really like you and… you… Well this got awkward." She sighted. "Sorry."
"My lady" He moved, propping himself over his elbow, reaching for her chin, lifting her face. "It is not easy for one such as I to admit having feeling for anything else but duty… we are raised, trained to put it first. It is easier to live like that."
"And that freaks me out." She admitted, moving softly, apparently because she was feeling uncomfortable, her hips, moments before over his waist, lowering slightly, her arms around his neck, one hand playing with his hair. "So… you want me?"
His eyes blue eyes got warmer and the shy smile played again with his usually stern lips. "I want you." He whispered, tantalizingly, fingers tracing her face, as if committing her to his memory. They roamed gently, almost fearfully. Her sight trembled when his hand roamed through her neck and tugged playfully at her shirt. Casavir pulled her closer.
Fox countered for some moments, having second thoughts about what she was about to do. She was resisting now because it meant something. And she did want that. Meaning. Emotion. Sentiment. So why in all the hells and layers of the Abyss was she feeling terrified?
His touch begged her now, light as fairy wings, despite his hands being rough from years of weapon training. Still on the verge she looked into his eyes, trying to see. Desire was there, was familiar enough for her to recognize. The frightening glimmer of love was there too. But there was so much more in him, in the way he looked at her. Casavir was waiting for her to make her mind… persuading her with gentle caresses over her spine.
And his smile told her he knew exactly what he was doing to her. Trust, comprehension, tenderness… His hands molded her shape, holding her waist. Without a word he moved, kissing her neck, exposing her shoulder, biting slightly, nibbling the skin to her neck, following the pulsing vein, taking in her scent. Fox closed her eyes and arched with a hushed moan. He stopped, making he protests incoherently. The rogue opened her eyes slightly, meeting his. He was close enough, very still. Despair, fear and pain. Marks that he carried for too long… surfacing because she hesitated. It cut her deep and hard. She relented, leaning to meet his lips.
Warmth washed over her, erasing her doubts, turning her mind into a dazed mist. Casavir welcomed her exploring hands and lips, guiding her, persuading her to find the spots that pleasured him. Like a curious kitten Fox used her fingertips, touching gently, cautiously, searching thoroughly over the linen of his shirt, her eyes laughing as he tried to stifle his groans, hand gripping her hips hard, keeping her from moving too much, as soon as she found a way to take of his shirt off.
Her small and keen hands roamed aimlessly over him, tracing scars, her eyes letting him know the questions amassing behind her eyes. She pressed her lips against each scar, stopping a little longer over the tattoo that proved he had the Order's trust and longer still over his heart. As she felt his pulse underneath her lips she wondered if she hadn't gone completely daft.
That felt good, his scent, his taste, the way he made her feel as his hands touched her. It felt right and still… She nibbled the skin, her kiss sliding lower, testing. He gripped her harder, his muscles tensing as a bowstring being pulled to the limit. Just as to tease she played with her fingers along the border of his pants, between skin and fabric. His eyes went dark and he grabbed both her hands, leaving them over his shoulders, breathing hard.
The rogue smiled smugly. She felt it… she had put him on the limit of control. Amusing. Not so amusing when his eyes regained his focus and her moved underneath her to an almost sitting position, leaning against the headboard. Oh fine. She was daft and a stark raving lunatic. Where she had been mischievous he was being gentle and caring, pleasuring both with slow touches. And all she could do was purr for him
Fox looked disarmed and defeated now letting him have his way. Her eyes had become gentle smoke of incense, misty and shifting with the gentlest of breezes. Silvered from the moonlight that poured through the window, trickled with golden, reflecting the fire that burned low on the mantelpiece. There was a gentle smile on her lips. He could only try to believe that she loved him back, that those dreamy eyes meant so.
Casavir's hands slid underneath her shirt, sending shivers rippling through her body, making hard for Fox to breathe as he remover her silk shirt, making sure his hands touched her over the blue lace that she wore beneath, cupping her breasts, his thumbs touching the skin that bordered the lace, enjoying her sharp intake, her surrender, before continuing upwards, raising her arms, throwing the flowing piece to the floor.
He pulled her closer once again, tasting her lips, lazily, taking his time in persuading her to let go of some more secrets. His fingers found the slight crease the scar created on her skin and when down, tracing it, starting to undo her corset. Fox sighted, touching his face, hand descending to play with the string that kept his pants in place. Casavir placed his hand over the scar as he had done to heal her, looking into her eyes before pulling her into another kiss, his hands roaming low on her, finding the little buckles that held her pants on her left hip.
And then to their dismay someone knocked. Fox let out an exasperated sight when his hands slid up and settled over her waist, his eyes focusing again. She straitened as the rasping at her door continued.
"What now?" She yelled, turning her head to the door. Neeshka's voice came from the other side, trembling.
"Qara! She hit Duncan with lightning spell or something! Hurry!"
Fox froze for some seconds, the smoke in her eyes changing into… glassing into a murderer's stare. She moved away opening the door with a violent pull, walking down the corridor, gritting her teeth. Casavir followed, donning his shirt. Neeshka was worried as they passed, biting her lip, running after him, whispering what had happened.
Qara stood, arrogant and defiant when she came in, contained by some sort of Sand-cast bubble. Khelgar was restrained, as Qara, his fists hitting the bubble. Bishop reclined on his chair, boots over the table, appreciating the scene over a tankard. Unsurprisingly he was smiling.
Elanee kneeled next to Duncan, her hands touching his badly burnt figure, whispering to nature, begging for her to give her the strength to heal. As gentle as her voice and nature's calm her healing was slow but effective. Singing as quietly as he could Grobnar contributed with healing of his own. In his way it was like urging with the old adventuring ballad the half-elf to get up and fight. Casavir went to their side as soon as he arrived, his low rumbling voice adding to prayer to the healing circle.
Fox looked still although Casavir had put himself in front of Duncan's body. In purpose no less. Her eyes roamed to the wall. Although she had no magic of her own, if you discarded the glow thing, Fox was adept of using spell scrolls and items. Lighting and fire. Highly destructive and scarcely controllable. Had Qara written all over it. Scorch marks, ash, blood and jagged black lines on the wall and floor. The smell of ozone and overcooked meat in the air. And enough energy to feed thousands of arcane items and machinery. And of course to make her hairs stand on end.
It was late. Duncan had closed. Shandra was not there but could Fox blame her for running off to play? It was good even that the farm girl wasn't there. And…
"Why… Sir Duncan is going to survive…" Grobnar began softly, stepping away, having exhausted his song-spells.
"Thanks sweetie." She half turned to see him. "Please tell me the children weren't here when she did that."
"They were not. I was taking them to see my latest work on the back… those wheels and tools were really doing the trick with the delicate mechanics… I heard the noise and thought sir Khelgar had…" Fox waved he hand softly. The gnome went silent, looking somewhat scared while she averted her eyes.
"Let her go Sand." Fox growled. He seemed about to say something. "Do it." She whispered with a glare. Qara looked self-satisfied when Sand released her.
"Something to say?" Fox asked with a half snarl. As she closed her hands black flames began to form, sliding around her wrists, feed by her own feelings and by whatever floated around on the overcharged air.
"You insulted me." Qara stated, huffing, taking a defensive pose herself.
"Very well." She raised a hand, ignoring the black glow that surrounded it. She was angry and in the verge of loosing control. And like hell was she going to regain it. Let's be chaotic for a while and get the immediate satisfaction. "And why exactly do you think I'll let you get away with this?"
Fox moved closer and grabbed her by the neck. "I'm not." She smiled as blackness poured into the sorceress. She whimpered in pain as the rogue's nails dug into her neck. "You know… this once caused a heart attack to a Gith… What will it do to your scrawny little noble-born sorceress body?" Fox moved her hand a little and kicked Qara, throwing her to the ground before grabbing her again by the back of the dress. "I'm angry right now. But in a few hours I'll be me again. It would be good for you. But my very angry self has something else planned. And I'm going to let my vicious trait have her way. No pity or mercy this time." She looked around, ignoring all the other faces. As she ignored the coiling snakes of the energy she poured burned Qara where they touched.
"Bishop." She tossed a trembling Qara to the ranger. He didn't bother to move so the sorceress hit her head on the table. "Do whatever you want with her. Without killing." Bishop scoffed, looking down. "Torture her, burn her, beat her… I don't care. Just make her regret casting the spell. And take her to a healer tomorrow afternoon."
Minutes later they heard her bang the door.
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For those who are wondering what classes does Fox have she ended the game as a multiclass level 15 rogue, lever 4 warlock and level 1 shadowdancer. The bad luck thing is the warlock's eldritch blast. Call it literary liberty. And when Casavir joined the group she went from chaotic neutral to chaotic good. With lots of mood swings in between.