Chapter 21
Sab'vrae pulled his black cloak about himself, shivering slightly. Wisps of frozen breath escaped his chapped lips and into the winter air. The cloudy sky lowered the sun's intensity, a fact Sab'vrae truly appreciated. Even after a decade on the surface, the bright star hurt his eyes, but not nearly as badly as it once did. The drow druid scanned the snow capped terrain, on alert for any possible threats to nearby villages or Lurkwood itself.
A few years ago, Kedaltol, a small town some dozen miles southwest of Hawksburgh, suffered from a hobgoblin raid. The dark elf helped Olren and Baelas get the village back on their feet afterwards, and after seeing what the monsters had caused, promised to double his efforts to prevent such disasters in the area.
A streak of color against the white snow caught Sab'vrae's attention. His hands flew to his hilts, and he quickly unsheathed his blades. He relaxed when he realized the creature in the distance was only a black bear. Unless under control from a wizard or druid, such animals tended to stay away from large communities of people.
The dark elf sheathed his long swords, once again impressed at their quality. Many winters ago, Sab'vrae returned his lent swords and now used the weapons that looked identical to his original Underdark ones. Even the black cloak covering his chilled body resembled his old piwafwi. The drow druid grinned, knowing all too well the truth behind these fully functional items. Lathhan himself wove a new cloak and enspelled it with the same abilities as Sab'vrae's piwafwi.
Then, not long after the grove's rescue of Hawksburgh's citizens, Baelas had invited an old friends of his -- Sourin, a talented dwarven blacksmith. Even after nine or so years, Sab'vrae easily recalled the day the shield dwarf aided him in his need of better weapons, much like his old swords.
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"And ye say these are of Underdark make?" Sourin inquired through his golden beard, carefully inspecting Nath'olin's old blade. Sab'vrae nodded.
"Their magic will die out if left in the sunlight too long. For these reason, I've kept them indoors and out of the light. Nevertheless, since they're cut off from their original magic source, even if I keep them in the dark, they'll slowly lose their enchantments. Think you can remedy this?"
"Well, the skill and power required to alter these weapons' magic source is rare and expensive, not to mention risky." The burly dwarf flicked a stubby finger against the blade, testing its quality. He nodded in approval at the responding clang. "However, me dark lad," the blacksmith continued, "I can create exact replicas with enchantments intact. Since the magic source won't come from the Underdark, ye kin use 'em just fine up here."
"You can?" the dark elf asked enthusiastically, "How much will it cost?" Sourin roared with laughter, thumping the drow on his back jovially.
"Normally, lad?" He asked, grinning widely, "Quite a small fortune. However, I have enough spare materials to create yer two swords without much expense on my behalf. That, and I owe that damn sun elf a favor. He's decided if I kin make ye yer blades surface friendly, it'll make us even." Sab'vrae chuckled, knowing the shield dwarf's unusual kinship with Baelas. Normally, elves and dwarves didn't get along -- probably due to their vast differences in their views on life -- but the druid and blacksmith had no problems befriending each other.
"Now, I'll have to take these with me, lad," Sourin scooped up the drow's swords, "but I kin return 'em if ye want afterwards." Sab'vrae contemplated the choice, then nodded slowly.
"Yes, I'd like them back for… sentimental reasons, I suppose." He decided. "How long will it take to craft new ones?" The dwarven blacksmith shrugged.
"I'll make them first priority and finish 'em soon as I kin," Sourin promised, "but I do have a shop to maintain, and I value quality over quantity, so it'll probably be at least a week or so." Sab'vrae nodded.
"Take your time, and thanks for your aid, my gruff friend." The dark elf druid grinned. Sourin waved his hand in dismissal.
"Bah! It's nothing."
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Sab'vrae grinned, the memory of the day long past brushing through his mind. He leaned back against the trunk of the tree he perched in high above the ground. Brushing his snowy locks out of his blue eyes, the drow then recollected when Maramitore, the elven priestess of Eilistraee Baelas knew, came to the grove some time after Sourin finished Sab'vrae's new blades.
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Baelas hugged the blonde haired sun elf in greeting. "Good to see you again, Maramitore." The druid grinned. Eilistraee's priestess returned the smile in kind.
"Same to you, my nature friend." She laughed, "Though, I must inquire as to why you called me so suddenly from my duties in Silverymoon." Silverymoon was a city based on the principles and ideals of tolerance and complete equality to all races and genders in Toril.
"Well, I was hoping you could assist a friend of mine," Baelas began, motioning for Sab'vrae to approach, "And even if you can't, I am sure he would love to make your acquaintance."
Maramitore's eyes widened in surprise upon spotting Sab'vrae. She noted the necklace of Eilistraee around his neck -- an item the drow purposely wore above his clothes on this day.
"Greetings, brother," the elf smiled kindly, "I never thought I would find one of The Dark Maiden's sons here in Lurkwood." Sab'vrae chuckled.
"Neither did Baelas, at first." He said, shooting the sun elf male a teasing grin. Baelas rolled his eyes, his cheeks red in remembrance of his first encounter with the drow fighter. "Anyway, a talented dwarven smith recently made surface friendly replicas of my old Underdark swords. One already has many useful enchantments, but this one," he unsheathed his simpler sword and held it out to the priestess, "is rather basic aside from magically enhanced keenness and slashing ability."
Maramitore carefully held the long sword in her elegant hands, "Yes, it is a nice weapon. The Dark Maiden would approve." Eilistraee's favored weapon was the long sword. "What do you wish me to do with it?"
"Well…" Sab'vrae hesitated, "Forgive me if such a request is arrogant of me, but… I was hoping you could bestow our goddess' blessing upon the blade. I may be a druid in training who also venerates Rillifane, but I wish to show my first and foremost devotion to Eilistraee."
"I see," the priestess nodded, "and I can try, but it will only work if you hold Her favor." The sun elf woman placed the sword on a tree stump and began to sing and dance -- favored forms of prayer to the goodly drow deity. Maramitore wove her arms and fingers about, chanting in a softer, gentler dialect of Drow than Sab'vrae was accustomed to. A faint white glow radiated from the blade, gradually increasing in intensity until it matched the radiant gleam of its twin sword's red glow.
Finishing her ritual, Maramitore picked up the sword, handing it back to its owner. "It seems The Dark Maiden is quite pleased with you, Sab'vrae." Smiling widely, the drow ran his fingers along the hammered metal.
"Do you know what kind of enchantments it has now?" he asked in awe.
"That, you'll have to discover on your own," the priestess answered, "but, know that as long as you are live by Eilistraee's teachings, the enchantments will stay. No dispelling effect will quell it." Sab'vrae bowed in gratitude, thanking the cleric profoundly.
"I intend to live the rest of my life, long or short as it may be, by my Lady's lessons of benevolence." The dark elf promised.
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Sab'vrae sighed, fingering the hilt of the sword he'd since titled, "Eilistraee's Smite." Its partner, replica of his father's blade, he deemed "Demon Slayer" after he discovered it proved quite capable in the task. Seven years ago, a Ghour -- a minotaur like demon -- caused chaos in Lurkwood and the few villages bordering it. Sab'vrae, Baelas, and Kolgar were sent to eliminate the evil creature, and it was Sab'vrae's red glowing blade that finally slew the beast.
His post nearing its completion, the dark elf let his eyes wander to the horizon longingly. The pas ten years were much more enjoyable than any of his time spent in Ched Nasad, true, yet… Sab'vrae wished to explore more of this still strange and exotic world. Nai'lan and the other druids spoke of dry, steaming deserts, rocky high mountains, salty vast oceans, lush rolling plains, swampy marshlands, and many other natural wonders. The fighter/druid yearned to explore more of Faerun, and perhaps even the other, lesser known continents on Toril. His love for adventure and battle could no longer be sated even in the dangerous Lurkwood.
The drow sighed, descending down the tree, moving skillfully from limb to limb. Lurkwood's grove had become a home, a place of peace and sanctuary for him. Its inhabitants were family to him -- much more so than his blood relatives ever felt. Leaving them would be hard, that he knew, but he soul craved the road, longed to visit distant cities and towns. To meet knew people, even if it meant facing discrimination and hardship. To spread the teachings of tolerance and love as decreed by his venerated goddess.
He pulled his odd piwafwi around himself again, shivering. Traveling in the winter was hard and dangerous. Perhaps he'd wait until spring came, and conditions were more favorable. Yes, that seemed the wiser choice. Still, he'd give the grove a heads up on the issue, so the news would not shock them come the middle of Ches. Trudging through the shin deep snow, Sab'vrae ventured back to his home and friends.
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Baelas sighed, knowing the day, after months of apprehension, had come. "Must you leave us?" he asked the drow for the thousandth time. Sab'vrae laughed, clapping a hand on the wood elf's shoulder.
"Baelas, you are my best friend, a brother to me, and I mean that in the true essence of the word, not the drow meaning." This brought a chuckle to the sun elf druid's lips. "But, you know I must go where my soul wills me to. I fought hard to reach the surface, and it seems like a waste if I spend the rest of my centuries just here in Lurkwood. I want to see the rest of the lands, see what nature can achieve in other climates."
The sun elf conceded to the point, remembering his brief days of adventuring in years long since passed, "I understand, Sab'vrae, but… I insist you don't leave without a few parting gifts."
"You and the grove took me in when I was alone and confused in a foreign world. Why would I need anything more from you guys?" Sab'vrae questioned.
"If you're going to travel Faerun, I think you'd come to appreciate the value of useful trinkets." Baelas grinned. Nai'lan, who'd come to see the drow off with the rest of the grove, nodded in agreement.
"Yes, I think we can give you some things of use that aren't necessary for us anymore." He retreated to his hut, as did Baelas to his own. A few minutes later, the two elves returned, objects clasped in their hands. Baelas went first, dropping a gold, ruby encrusted ring into Sab'vrae's ebony hand.
"I acquired this during my own brief adventuring days," the sun elf explained. "It will reduce the damage of any elemental attack by half." Sab'vrae slipped the ring onto his right ring finger, the left already occupied by the druid's leaf ring.
"I'm sure I can find a use for it in my travels. Thank you, my friend." Baelas nodded, smiling. At a sudden impulse, he pulled the drow into a great bear hug. Surprised, the dark elf let out a gush of air, then recovered, patting his best friend on the back. "I'll miss you too, Baelas."
Chuckling, Nai'lan waited until the duo unlatched from one another. He presented the drow with a pair of boots.
"These leather boots are enchanted to hasten your steps without tiring yourself out," the archdruid said, "I received them as a gift from my father many, may decades ago, but I no longer need them. Didn't use them that often, in all honesty. I think you might find them useful, though." Sab'vrae hugged the wood elf in thanks, donning the boots. Rolain approached him next, the human presenting him with a pair of leather gloves.
"Made out of the same tough and flexible cattle hide as your armor!" Rolain grinned, "And with a few enchantments, as well, though that should come as little surprise! I had these crafted for you some time ago -- originally, I intended them as a birthday gift, but today will work just as well. I know how your druid abilities are somewhat limited due to your choice in weapons, so these gloves will increase the effectiveness of your druid spells."
Sab'vrae slipped the brown gloves over his hands, impressed by the fit. Not too loose, yet not too tight. Perfect for absorbing some of the perspiration caused by wielding his blades after a long time. "Thank you, Rolain."
Elari came next, though her hands remained empty. "My gift is not an object you can grasp," she explained, "but I think you'll like it. You still wish to hide the fact you're a drow when traveling, yes?"
Sab'vrae nodded, remembering the decision he'd made in the past winter. Not at all ashamed of his heritage, the dark elf simply wished to travel the roads without being attacked on sight. His clothing reflected such a choice, as well.
Baggy, thin, earth green leather pants covered his legs down to his shins, where the boots of speed began. A loose cattle leather shirt covered his torso up to his biceps, serving as light armor. Simple enchantments enhanced protectiveness of the clothing. Reddish brown bindings ran down the drow's arms, concealing his skin up to his wrists. Rolain's gloves reached up to an inch below Sab'vrae's elbow. Two belts stretched over Sab'vrae's shoulders, under his cloak, and met at a metal ring in the center of his chest. On the bottom of the ring, another vertical belt extended downwards, hooked to the buckle of the belt around his waist. This semi elaborate system was meant to hold his two swords in place on his back. His black cowl was pulled over his head, and in his hand, Sab'vrae had long piece of cloth to cover the lower half of his face with.
"Yes, it is true still." The drow admitted. Smiling knowingly, Elari extended her fingers, covered in some green substance, probably mashed herbs, to his forehead. She drew a druidic glyph on his forehead, muttering a spell. She finished, examining his face.
"Touch the mark on your forehead and speak the command word, 'ehhiel.'" She instructed. He gave her an odd look, but complied, placing two fingers against the symbol.
"'Ehhiel." He declared. The drow felt no different, but the looks of surprise and Elari's confident countenance told him something had changed.
"Your skin's turned green, at least on your face." She explained, "And your eyebrows are also green, though many shades darker. Your hair and the rest of your body are unaffected, however. I can't make the enchantment more powerful than it is now. Touch your forehead and say, 'femact.'" Once again, Sab'vrae obeyed. The grove blinked in mild surprise again, and Elari smirked to herself. "Perfect. It works as I intended. Your skin's back to normal, and now the glyph is invisible. Touch your forehead and speak the command words whenever you wish to change the color of your skin to a from green. That way, people won't know if you're a drow unless you let them. Well, that, and as long as you hide those nice white locks. 'Tis a pity."
Sab'vrae laughed, hugging the moon elf, "Thank you very much, Elari." He followed her instructions and changed his face back to green. Tying his cloth face mask over his nose and mouth, he turned to the group. "How do I look?"
"Like an assassin." Baelas laughed, punching the drow on the arm lightly. "Hey, you gonna use your name while you travel, or fabricate one? Not many people will notice a drow name when they hear it, but those well read might. You gonna risk that?" Sab'vrae frowned, considering this.
"Good point," he admitted, "No, I think only my close friends will know my true name. To everyone else, I will be… Serosa'ruth."
Nai'lan nodded in approval, "Elven for 'Nature's Fury,' quite appropriate for a traveling druid. Good luck on the roads, all right?" The dark elf nodded, turning to leave.
"Farewell, my friends," Sab'vrae waved as he walked out of the grove, "I promise I'll visit again someday!"
"We look forward to it! Take care and make sure you return before I go completely gray!" Rolain called with a laugh. Sab'vrae chuckled and shook his head, disappearing through the trees.