Sorry I haven't been updating but Spring Break came up, and I was
busy. Between hanging with friends and building a chariot for my Latin
class I haven't had time to write. Oh well. I have no social life again for
a while, so I will be writing. However I have a Key Club trip tins weekend
and I'm in Oklahoma half of next week so I may not update as much. But I'll
update when I gat back, I promise.
Bjrn Fallqvist: Thank you!
Dracco664: Thanks. I hate it when people end things with cliffhangers, usually, but now I find a sort of perverse pleasure in keeping people hanging. He he he he
ArchYou2: Yeah, I know he can't handle a sword, but holding a ma ce to someone's neck seems kinda.... less intimidating. You'll find I often am not completely accurate in my writing, but I tend to sacrifice detail for story. And yeah, I will talk about Tamoko eventually, but I' focusing mostly on Raziel back story for now. More romance will come into play later.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. You get the idea.
Jaheira walked through the featureless darkness that made up the dreamworld she and her friends had been sucked into. It was a bit unnerving to walk through never-ending blackness, but the scenery was not the main thing on the druid's mind. She was worried mostly about Raziel, and what had happened to the girl in the past years.
Never in her wildest dreams had Jaheira imagined that Raziel had experienced such torture and humiliation at the hands of the priests of Cyric. It made her sick and upset at the same time. No wonder Liaedra had become the tortured soul that was Raziel. No elf could withstand such torture and come out whole again.
And the fact that Quinn had never intervened to help Raziel was also curious. Even though Quinn had left Liaedra, Jaheira had assumed that he did not hate the she-elf. But in the midst of horrible pain, Quinn had not done anything to help his former beloved. Jaheira was sure he had had his reasons, but still..... something about that situation did not sit right with her.
Sarevok's hunched form came into Jaheira's view up ahead. Confused, she ran the short distance left to get to him. When she reached him, e turned his face to meet her, a strange, unreadable expression on his face. Jaheira noted that he held a small figure in his arms. As he moved, she could tell that it was Raziel.
"What did you do to her?" Jaheira asked, glaring.
'I did nothing!" said Sarevok. "She just fell asleep after she was crying..." Sarevok became suddenly quiet, realizing he had said too much.
"In your arms?" asked Jaheira, still skeptical about Sarevok's involvement in Raziel's state of unconsciousness.
To her surprise, Sarevok didn't answer, merely muttered something and turned away. Jaheira angry glare turned into a slight grin as she realized something.
"Sarevok, are you blushing?"
He growled, but said nothing. Instead he stood up, Raziel still cradled in his arms. He turned and walked off in the direction he thought the others were in, Jaheira following, grinning.
It seemed that anther feature of this dark place was the ability to get wherever you wanted to without walking in any particular direction. Soon enough Sarevok, Jaheira, and the sleeping Raziel had returned to Kelsey, Imoen, and Amuana. Sarevok grunted when all of their eyes turned to him holding Raziel's sleeping form.
"She was tired," he explained. Amuana nodded.
"She should rest. She does not need to be awake as we explore the rest of her past. Lay her on the ground."
Sarevok placed Raziel on the ground with extreme care. Kelsey noted this and gave Jaheira an inquisitive look. Jaheira gave him a quick wink and turned back to Raziel.
She gasped. Raziel was gone. She saw Sarevok looking angrily at Amuana. The child prophetess raised her hand.
"Peace, Sarevok. The girl is merely resting somewhere safer, where our continued look at her past will not disturb her. I fear I have already pushed her past her limits today."
"What do you mean, continue to look at her past? There's more?" choked Imoen.
"Yes," Amuana said. "She stands before you now, does she not? She did not die that day. There is more. No you must see it."
Once again the darkness rippled and the scene changed to a dark forest. Only a few moonbeams made it through the branches to illuminate small pats of the ground. There was no noise; silence reigned, as if the trees were breathless, waiting for something to happen.
A cowled figure was crouched in the middle of the forest, bending over what looked to be just a pile of rags. As the scene cleared, the companions could see it was a person.
"Stupid bitch," growled the figure. "Had to go and die. Well, it doesn't matter. It didn't seem like your precious Bhaalspawn was going to come and help you anyway. You can rot in this forest for all I care."
He kicked the figure once in the stomach and left. The person, which Imoen identified as a she, was left alone, covered in blood, in the middle of the forest. She groaned, even though she was still unconscious, and rolled over, exposing her face in a thin shaft of moonlight. Imoen gasped.
It was Liaedra.
She was lily-white from blood loss. One of her wrists was exposed, and Imoen could see the thin streams of blood that flowed up her hands and arms from the gaping wounds across her wrists. She looked already dead, but her previous movement showed that she still had some life left in her broken body. Still, judging by her very shallow, rasping, erratic breathing, it did not seem like she had hope of lasting very long.
"Are they gone?" a soft voice asked.
The companions turned in the direction of the voice and saw two girls come out from behind a thick-trunked tree. One seemed to be older, around sixteen perhaps, and the other appeared much younger, about the age of twelve. The walked carefully towards Liaedra, as if afraid that she would jump up and attack them at any moment.
"What are we doing?" hissed the older girl.
"We have to help her, Mira. She's hurt. You don't want her to die, do you?" asked the younger girl.
"We don't even know her, Elysia. She could be a criminal, or a vampire, or a....... are you even listening to me?" growled Mira.
The girl Mira had identified as Elysia had crouched over Liaedra, checking her pulse. She brushed back Liae's hair and gasped.
"Mira, she's an elf! And she's still alive! Let's get her to the village, quick!" the little girl cried. Mira grumbled something about stupid elves getting killed, but grabbed one of Liaedra's legs and helped Elysia drag the elf through the forest.
The scene rippled, and cleared to a shadowy hut. There was a fire dancing merrily in the middle, and various items and knick-knacks were cluttered along the sides. On a pallet near the fire lay Liaedra, her wounds bandaged and wrapped tightly in blankets. A bit of color had retuned to her face and her breathing was more regular, but she still looked sickly.
An old man entered through the blanketed entrance and crouched down beside the elf. His white hair and thin white beard was well kept despite the shabby condition of his brown-colored robes. His wrinkled face had obviously seen many seasons, as evident by the wisdom that shown from his dancing grey eyes.
He removed the cool clothe that lay on Liaedra's brow and ran a finger along the cuts there. Imoen noted that the cuts that were beginning to heal on her face matched the current pattern of scars that currently traced their way across the face of Raziel.
Liaedra's eyes shot open and she sat up quickly, drawing in a sharp breath as her wounds strained with her sudden movement. The old man placed a hand on Liaedra's shoulder and pushed her back down onto the pallet.
"Be calm, child. You are safe here. Be at peace," said the old man in a soft, musical voice.
"Where am I?" asked Liae, obviously somewhat calmed, but still wary.
"You are in the village of Tarthis. My granddaughters found you in the forest and brought you here. You were badly injured. Might I require as to what happened to you?"
"I was........ tortured. That is all you need to know," whispered the broken elf.
"And the wounds on your wrists?"
"They...... were self inflicted."
The old man nodded and stood up, turning to the corner of the hut and digging through a pile of junk as if looking for something. "I thought as much. I hold it not against you, though. Many would do anything to end their pain, and from the looks of you wounds and scars, you have been through much child."
Liae laughed softly. "You need not call me child. It is most likely that I am older than you,"
The old man laughed as well. "I doubt it. I am quite old, despite the fact that I am a mortal, I have lived quite a few years."
"One-hundred and twelve. You?"
"I am afraid I beat you, my dear, at one-hundred and thirty-seven."
"How..." Liae began, confused.
The old man threw a wand to the side as he dug through his various possessions, and Liae understood.
"You're a mage," she said.
He smiled and nodded.
"And favored by Mystra, if your age is any indicator."
The old man laughed. "Indeed, though I would not hold myself in such high regard as her other favored, such as Elminster. But yes, I am a magic-user, and I do have some skill in it, enough so that the deity of magic has graced me with her favor."
Liaedra nodded, smiling. She felt a strange sense of kindred with this man. Perhaps it was because he had reminded her of Gorion, who she had met many years before ether of them had become mixed up in the Bhaalspawn incident.
"Might I ask your name, my friend?" she asked.
"Indeed. My name is Oris. A simple name, but I find it serves my purpose. And yours, my lady?"
"I am Liaedra. Just..... Liaedra."
"I see," said Oris. He stopped digging through his things and walked over to the opening of the tent.
"Elysia! Mira! Where did you put my staff?" he shouted.
Liaedra smiled slightly at his yelling, and her smile grew as two girls came into the hut, one stumbling, the other one pushing her in, scowling. Liae noticed that the younger girl was holding, a gnarled, old wooden staff, the kind that would be used by a mage. SH wore a simple white dress with flowers embroidered on the edges. He older girl wore a much richer, lower cut sky blue dress, which was made less beautiful by her angry expression.
The younger girl giggled as she relinquished her staff to Oris. "Sorry Grandpa. I was just playing with it!"
Oris smiled and tussled her hair. "It's alright, Elysia. I don't mind. Mira, why are looking so sour?"
Mira's scowled deepened. "You dragged away from my friends, grandfather. And for what?"
Oris sighed. "Please Mira, calm down. I just thought you would like to know that our guest had awakened."
"Really?" squealed Elysia, and looked past her grandfather. She noticed the smiling elf maid and ran over to her.
"Hello child," said Liaedra, smiling even brighter at the joy filled girl in front of her. "I am Liaedra. I understand you saved my life. I wish to offer you my thanks."
"I'm Elysia. Oris is my grandfather. I'm glad you're okay." She cocked her head. "Are you really an elf?"
Liaedra laughed. After years of adventuring and battle, the pure inquisitiveness of a child was refreshing. "Indeed child. I am an elf, born and bred."
The other girl, Mira, snarled. "Stop bothering the girl with your stupid questions, Elysia. Do something useful for once!"
Elysia's face fell and Liae's face retuned to a platonic expression "I do not find her bothersome in the least. In fact, I am beginning to enjoy her company. Who might you be?"
Mire raised her nose a bit in a gesture of arrogance. "I am Mira Falliona Guestri, Elysia's older sister," she said in a stuffy tone, emphasizing the word older.
"One who prides their name and age over their sibling is someone who needs to get their head out of their clouds," said Liaedra wisely, with a wink at Elysia.
"You dare..." began Mira angrily.
"If we are going to go on with title, Miss Guestri, then I am Liaedra Asmoisia, a hero of many wars and battles. You will find my likeness in Trademeet, Baldur's Gate, and Athkatla. My name is sung by bards around the world, and all that." She smiled. "But in my many years I have found that titles don't matter for anything, so you would do well to forget that arrogance around me. Your name will gain you nothing."
Mira simply scowled and stormed out. Elysia giggled and hugged Liae's neck. The elf wrapped her arm around the girl's waist and looked over at Oris.
"I hope I have done no harm, Oris, but arrogance, especially in a child, annoys me."
Oris shook his head. "No, the girl is a bit too prideful. She needed a dose of reality."
Elysia giggled. "I've never seen anyone stand up to Mira like that! That was funny!"
Oris smiled and put a hand on his granddaughter's shoulder. "Come now, Elysia. Let Liaedra get her rest. She is probably very tired."
Elysia nodded and started out the door. Then she turned back. "Will you be staying here?"
Liae smiled. "For a little while, yes."
Elysia smiled again. "Good. Bye Liaedra!"
For the first time in several months, Liaedra felt her heart lighten. "Call me Liae, child," she said, then lay down and fell back to sleep, the first peaceful sleep she had had in a long time.
Bjrn Fallqvist: Thank you!
Dracco664: Thanks. I hate it when people end things with cliffhangers, usually, but now I find a sort of perverse pleasure in keeping people hanging. He he he he
ArchYou2: Yeah, I know he can't handle a sword, but holding a ma ce to someone's neck seems kinda.... less intimidating. You'll find I often am not completely accurate in my writing, but I tend to sacrifice detail for story. And yeah, I will talk about Tamoko eventually, but I' focusing mostly on Raziel back story for now. More romance will come into play later.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. You get the idea.
Jaheira walked through the featureless darkness that made up the dreamworld she and her friends had been sucked into. It was a bit unnerving to walk through never-ending blackness, but the scenery was not the main thing on the druid's mind. She was worried mostly about Raziel, and what had happened to the girl in the past years.
Never in her wildest dreams had Jaheira imagined that Raziel had experienced such torture and humiliation at the hands of the priests of Cyric. It made her sick and upset at the same time. No wonder Liaedra had become the tortured soul that was Raziel. No elf could withstand such torture and come out whole again.
And the fact that Quinn had never intervened to help Raziel was also curious. Even though Quinn had left Liaedra, Jaheira had assumed that he did not hate the she-elf. But in the midst of horrible pain, Quinn had not done anything to help his former beloved. Jaheira was sure he had had his reasons, but still..... something about that situation did not sit right with her.
Sarevok's hunched form came into Jaheira's view up ahead. Confused, she ran the short distance left to get to him. When she reached him, e turned his face to meet her, a strange, unreadable expression on his face. Jaheira noted that he held a small figure in his arms. As he moved, she could tell that it was Raziel.
"What did you do to her?" Jaheira asked, glaring.
'I did nothing!" said Sarevok. "She just fell asleep after she was crying..." Sarevok became suddenly quiet, realizing he had said too much.
"In your arms?" asked Jaheira, still skeptical about Sarevok's involvement in Raziel's state of unconsciousness.
To her surprise, Sarevok didn't answer, merely muttered something and turned away. Jaheira angry glare turned into a slight grin as she realized something.
"Sarevok, are you blushing?"
He growled, but said nothing. Instead he stood up, Raziel still cradled in his arms. He turned and walked off in the direction he thought the others were in, Jaheira following, grinning.
It seemed that anther feature of this dark place was the ability to get wherever you wanted to without walking in any particular direction. Soon enough Sarevok, Jaheira, and the sleeping Raziel had returned to Kelsey, Imoen, and Amuana. Sarevok grunted when all of their eyes turned to him holding Raziel's sleeping form.
"She was tired," he explained. Amuana nodded.
"She should rest. She does not need to be awake as we explore the rest of her past. Lay her on the ground."
Sarevok placed Raziel on the ground with extreme care. Kelsey noted this and gave Jaheira an inquisitive look. Jaheira gave him a quick wink and turned back to Raziel.
She gasped. Raziel was gone. She saw Sarevok looking angrily at Amuana. The child prophetess raised her hand.
"Peace, Sarevok. The girl is merely resting somewhere safer, where our continued look at her past will not disturb her. I fear I have already pushed her past her limits today."
"What do you mean, continue to look at her past? There's more?" choked Imoen.
"Yes," Amuana said. "She stands before you now, does she not? She did not die that day. There is more. No you must see it."
Once again the darkness rippled and the scene changed to a dark forest. Only a few moonbeams made it through the branches to illuminate small pats of the ground. There was no noise; silence reigned, as if the trees were breathless, waiting for something to happen.
A cowled figure was crouched in the middle of the forest, bending over what looked to be just a pile of rags. As the scene cleared, the companions could see it was a person.
"Stupid bitch," growled the figure. "Had to go and die. Well, it doesn't matter. It didn't seem like your precious Bhaalspawn was going to come and help you anyway. You can rot in this forest for all I care."
He kicked the figure once in the stomach and left. The person, which Imoen identified as a she, was left alone, covered in blood, in the middle of the forest. She groaned, even though she was still unconscious, and rolled over, exposing her face in a thin shaft of moonlight. Imoen gasped.
It was Liaedra.
She was lily-white from blood loss. One of her wrists was exposed, and Imoen could see the thin streams of blood that flowed up her hands and arms from the gaping wounds across her wrists. She looked already dead, but her previous movement showed that she still had some life left in her broken body. Still, judging by her very shallow, rasping, erratic breathing, it did not seem like she had hope of lasting very long.
"Are they gone?" a soft voice asked.
The companions turned in the direction of the voice and saw two girls come out from behind a thick-trunked tree. One seemed to be older, around sixteen perhaps, and the other appeared much younger, about the age of twelve. The walked carefully towards Liaedra, as if afraid that she would jump up and attack them at any moment.
"What are we doing?" hissed the older girl.
"We have to help her, Mira. She's hurt. You don't want her to die, do you?" asked the younger girl.
"We don't even know her, Elysia. She could be a criminal, or a vampire, or a....... are you even listening to me?" growled Mira.
The girl Mira had identified as Elysia had crouched over Liaedra, checking her pulse. She brushed back Liae's hair and gasped.
"Mira, she's an elf! And she's still alive! Let's get her to the village, quick!" the little girl cried. Mira grumbled something about stupid elves getting killed, but grabbed one of Liaedra's legs and helped Elysia drag the elf through the forest.
The scene rippled, and cleared to a shadowy hut. There was a fire dancing merrily in the middle, and various items and knick-knacks were cluttered along the sides. On a pallet near the fire lay Liaedra, her wounds bandaged and wrapped tightly in blankets. A bit of color had retuned to her face and her breathing was more regular, but she still looked sickly.
An old man entered through the blanketed entrance and crouched down beside the elf. His white hair and thin white beard was well kept despite the shabby condition of his brown-colored robes. His wrinkled face had obviously seen many seasons, as evident by the wisdom that shown from his dancing grey eyes.
He removed the cool clothe that lay on Liaedra's brow and ran a finger along the cuts there. Imoen noted that the cuts that were beginning to heal on her face matched the current pattern of scars that currently traced their way across the face of Raziel.
Liaedra's eyes shot open and she sat up quickly, drawing in a sharp breath as her wounds strained with her sudden movement. The old man placed a hand on Liaedra's shoulder and pushed her back down onto the pallet.
"Be calm, child. You are safe here. Be at peace," said the old man in a soft, musical voice.
"Where am I?" asked Liae, obviously somewhat calmed, but still wary.
"You are in the village of Tarthis. My granddaughters found you in the forest and brought you here. You were badly injured. Might I require as to what happened to you?"
"I was........ tortured. That is all you need to know," whispered the broken elf.
"And the wounds on your wrists?"
"They...... were self inflicted."
The old man nodded and stood up, turning to the corner of the hut and digging through a pile of junk as if looking for something. "I thought as much. I hold it not against you, though. Many would do anything to end their pain, and from the looks of you wounds and scars, you have been through much child."
Liae laughed softly. "You need not call me child. It is most likely that I am older than you,"
The old man laughed as well. "I doubt it. I am quite old, despite the fact that I am a mortal, I have lived quite a few years."
"One-hundred and twelve. You?"
"I am afraid I beat you, my dear, at one-hundred and thirty-seven."
"How..." Liae began, confused.
The old man threw a wand to the side as he dug through his various possessions, and Liae understood.
"You're a mage," she said.
He smiled and nodded.
"And favored by Mystra, if your age is any indicator."
The old man laughed. "Indeed, though I would not hold myself in such high regard as her other favored, such as Elminster. But yes, I am a magic-user, and I do have some skill in it, enough so that the deity of magic has graced me with her favor."
Liaedra nodded, smiling. She felt a strange sense of kindred with this man. Perhaps it was because he had reminded her of Gorion, who she had met many years before ether of them had become mixed up in the Bhaalspawn incident.
"Might I ask your name, my friend?" she asked.
"Indeed. My name is Oris. A simple name, but I find it serves my purpose. And yours, my lady?"
"I am Liaedra. Just..... Liaedra."
"I see," said Oris. He stopped digging through his things and walked over to the opening of the tent.
"Elysia! Mira! Where did you put my staff?" he shouted.
Liaedra smiled slightly at his yelling, and her smile grew as two girls came into the hut, one stumbling, the other one pushing her in, scowling. Liae noticed that the younger girl was holding, a gnarled, old wooden staff, the kind that would be used by a mage. SH wore a simple white dress with flowers embroidered on the edges. He older girl wore a much richer, lower cut sky blue dress, which was made less beautiful by her angry expression.
The younger girl giggled as she relinquished her staff to Oris. "Sorry Grandpa. I was just playing with it!"
Oris smiled and tussled her hair. "It's alright, Elysia. I don't mind. Mira, why are looking so sour?"
Mira's scowled deepened. "You dragged away from my friends, grandfather. And for what?"
Oris sighed. "Please Mira, calm down. I just thought you would like to know that our guest had awakened."
"Really?" squealed Elysia, and looked past her grandfather. She noticed the smiling elf maid and ran over to her.
"Hello child," said Liaedra, smiling even brighter at the joy filled girl in front of her. "I am Liaedra. I understand you saved my life. I wish to offer you my thanks."
"I'm Elysia. Oris is my grandfather. I'm glad you're okay." She cocked her head. "Are you really an elf?"
Liaedra laughed. After years of adventuring and battle, the pure inquisitiveness of a child was refreshing. "Indeed child. I am an elf, born and bred."
The other girl, Mira, snarled. "Stop bothering the girl with your stupid questions, Elysia. Do something useful for once!"
Elysia's face fell and Liae's face retuned to a platonic expression "I do not find her bothersome in the least. In fact, I am beginning to enjoy her company. Who might you be?"
Mire raised her nose a bit in a gesture of arrogance. "I am Mira Falliona Guestri, Elysia's older sister," she said in a stuffy tone, emphasizing the word older.
"One who prides their name and age over their sibling is someone who needs to get their head out of their clouds," said Liaedra wisely, with a wink at Elysia.
"You dare..." began Mira angrily.
"If we are going to go on with title, Miss Guestri, then I am Liaedra Asmoisia, a hero of many wars and battles. You will find my likeness in Trademeet, Baldur's Gate, and Athkatla. My name is sung by bards around the world, and all that." She smiled. "But in my many years I have found that titles don't matter for anything, so you would do well to forget that arrogance around me. Your name will gain you nothing."
Mira simply scowled and stormed out. Elysia giggled and hugged Liae's neck. The elf wrapped her arm around the girl's waist and looked over at Oris.
"I hope I have done no harm, Oris, but arrogance, especially in a child, annoys me."
Oris shook his head. "No, the girl is a bit too prideful. She needed a dose of reality."
Elysia giggled. "I've never seen anyone stand up to Mira like that! That was funny!"
Oris smiled and put a hand on his granddaughter's shoulder. "Come now, Elysia. Let Liaedra get her rest. She is probably very tired."
Elysia nodded and started out the door. Then she turned back. "Will you be staying here?"
Liae smiled. "For a little while, yes."
Elysia smiled again. "Good. Bye Liaedra!"
For the first time in several months, Liaedra felt her heart lighten. "Call me Liae, child," she said, then lay down and fell back to sleep, the first peaceful sleep she had had in a long time.