Author's Note: Wherein Shar-Teel uses her high taunt skill in a very inadvisable manner.
37 – Highsun Games
"And once the players have reached the opposite end of the field and paired up with whoever has their matching sock the one left out is declared 'the Odd Ogre.' Now in the next round the ogre…" –Olive Ruskettle, Games to Play on Highsun Camping Trips
Two by two they walked beneath the trees, the shade of the high elms broken here and there by shards of golden light. Ashura and Coran took the lead, her hand on the hilt of a sword and his keen elven eyes sweeping the path ahead.
Behind them walked Garrick and Eldoth. The young bard had perked up when he learned that the newcomer was an entertainer like himself, and he kept plying the older bard for stories. Eldoth indulged him only a little, with a lot of shrugs and a bored look on his face. "Really, I was never in any sort of troupe or whatever it is you do," he had said early on in a discouraging tone. "I just picked up a lot of songs from the skalds of Ruathym when I was young, and I do what I can to get by."
At the rear walked Imoen and Viconia, the girl's head tilted up and enjoying the shafts of sparkling sunlight as they passed through them, the drow doing just the opposite; head down and hood as far over her face as she could manage.
"I do wish we could travel by night," Viconia groused. "I shall simply never understand how you surfacers abide the blinding white everywhere."
"We don't see it that way," Imoen said with a shrug. "Literally. Hrm. Do your eyes just not adjust?"
"They have by small measures, over these past two years. Perhaps eventually I could learn to tolerate it almost as you do, but why should I when there is such a thing as night?"
Imoen giggled. "I suppose I could travel at night. Can see in the dark thanks to my magic ring. And Shura has her helmet. Coran's got infravision too. But we'd have poor Garrick stumbling around in the dark behind us, and now that Eldoth fellow's tagging along. Doubt his nightvision's that good."
"Easily remedied. Garrick is the weakest link in our band. We should be rid of him."
"Aww. No way! He doesn't serenade me anymore now that he's stuck himself to Ashura but he still tells the best campfire stories! And I like the harp music at night. Helps sooth me to sleep."
"Perhaps this new male will tell superior stories. He seems a musician as well. And I prefer him to the youthful riivan already. Impressive musculature, and more importantly he has a confidence and surety I rarely see in surface males."
A glance over at Viconia confirmed that the drow's eyes were firmly fixed on Eldoth's hindquarters. Imoen rolled her eyes. "He's certainly sure of himself. Full of himself might be a better way to put it though. Anyways, get rid of Garrick and we still have one pair of eyes short on infravision. Not to mention in a forest like this it's probably safer to travel by day."
"Truly?" They were approaching an open clearing, tall grass shining a vibrant green in the full summer sun.
"Most predators are nocturnal. I read that somewhere. There're all sorts of nasty beasties that are sleeping now, while we're enjoying the sunlight." She tilted her head up as they entered the meadow, smiling. All this time outdoors was giving her a bit of a tan, now that the sun-burning was out of the way. Old Puffguts' natural daughters would be jealous; they had always been trying to sun themselves on the battlements or rooftops when they had a little time off because they read somewhere that tan skin was fashionable. Most times they just got lobster-red and extra annoyed.
A regular bronzed outdoorswoman. That's what she was becoming, strange as it was to think. Had even lost a little weight with all the footsore hiking, though she was still far from the stick she knew Viconia was under the formless, baggy clothes, nor did she have Ashura's corded leanness. Hopefully she never would; what would Puffguts say if she went back home with no meat on her bones?
Rushing wind just behind them caught Imoen's attention, and she turned her head just as something blurry and massive came streaking in. Streaking in close!
Imoen opened her mouth to gasp but it turned into a scream at the bone-jarring impact. Both arms were near ripped from their sockets, and her limp legs were suddenly peddling at empty air. There was agony in her right arm, dagger-sharp at her bicep, and the field and the trees and the sky were all a rushing blur.
She squirmed and screamed, the sun blotted out by a great shadow just above. Wind buffeted her face, and it seemed that the shadow was flapping. There was a great downward pressure on her guts, and a giddy, bloodless sensation in her head. Was she…flying?
Blinking back tears she saw the grass rush by -so far below!- and something flashed by her torso and slapped her side, bruising her ribs before it whipped back. A tail, it seemed. And where those talons that were gripping her arms?
She didn't have time to make sense of it before there was a high, eagle-like scream just above her and one of the talons loosened, then let go. Now she was dangling in the air, and the grass was streaking by closer and closer as she struggled and mindlessly squirmed. Vaguely she realized that her voice was growing hoarse from all the screaming, her breath spent.
Another inhuman cry from the creature that was holding her, and then she was flung through empty air. The grass flew up with terrifying speed, followed by an impact that knocked the last breath from her lungs and all sense from her skull.
Where am I? was the first near-coherent thought that came to her as she awakened on the ground.
Perhaps not the best question. At the moment she wasn't even sure who she was. Felt like she needed to move though, so with every muscle and bone and sinew aching she flopped and pushed her way to her feet.
Twenty paces distant a massive beast was thrashing in the field, barbed scorpion-tail whipping and wings spread out, its draconic mouth open and hissing. A woman with a plumed helmet and dark hair spilling from the back danced before the creature (a wyvern?) armed with twin shortswords that constantly spun and darted.
Ashura. That was the woman's name, she realized after a dull blink. Have to help her. There was a bow in Imoen's hand, and thankfully the string was still taut. She snatched an arrow from her quiver and took aim at the wyvern, realizing dumbly that there were other figures around the creature. A pitched battle.
Imoen drew her arrow back. She had to make sure to hit the big thrashing lizard and not any of her friends.
An avian cry and movement on the periphery drew Imoen's eye and her bow went along with it. "Fuck!" she found herself mouthing in disbelief and horror, eyes alighting on a second wyvern as it swept in from the treetops. A gigantic creature, at least as large as the first, its wings stretched out and its tail curled.
Somehow she managed to mouth some more words after the curse, half-realizing what she was doing just as the surge of arcane energy began to build. It started in her guts and rose to her lungs, slowing her breath and calming her down. The sensation climbed higher from there, energy gathering in her eyes.
Everything slowed and came into absolute focus. She could have counted every ugly bump on the wyvern's snout if she wanted to, but Imoen had better ideas. The bow was already drawn, steel arrowhead gleaming in the sun. It was such a simple matter to tilt it just a little up, to clear all the breath from her lungs, and to let go of the string.
Time sped up, the arrow a streak of wood and steels and flapping feathers. Sharp and merciless, it plunged directly into the wyvern's left eye.
Imoen couldn't help but smile. Now that would be something to brag to Coran about.
Unfortunately the arrow didn't seem to stop or even slow the great beast, and it glided on, closing in as fast as Imoen's arrow had. She thought to dive away, but by then the wing was colliding with her stomach, heavy as an ogre's punch, and she doubled over and went flying.
Once again the ground flew up to meet her and her head filled with dancing lights.
When Imoen shook some sense back into her head and forced herself to pull up and out of the cool embrace of the grass for the second time, she saw Ashura struggling with a wyvern once more. This time her friend was straddling the great reptile's neck, stabbing her swords down into the back of the creature's skull again and again. And this time the wyvern had an arrow in its eye. Had that been hers?
As the wyvern's struggles slowed and Imoen caught her breath she noticed that there was another great bulk lying in the meadow nearby. She also began to feel a thousand deep aches, and a sharp throbbing in her arm accompanied by a wet trickle. Lucky, she guessed, that the beast that had snatched her had only dug its claws into one spot. Lucky its tail hadn't run her through either.
Lucky to be alive.
Along with the aches, pins, stabs and ragged breaths came a nasty smell, and she realized numbly that she must have soiled herself. Ah well, at least she had a good excuse this time. Snatched up by a wyvern and then tossed around like a ragdoll. She had been really embarrassed the first time she had lost control of her bladder and bowels in a scrap, all those months ago when the wolves had jumped her and Ashura on the Lion's Way. Thankfully Ashura hadn't noticed or hadn't said anything at the time.
Both wyverns were just twitching a bit when Imoen managed to shamble over and join the rest. Viconia instantly rushed to her side, examining her injured arm. "It appears not all predators hunt at night," the drow noted.
"True enough," Imoen muttered back. Turning, she found Coran standing at her other side. Imoen pointed. "Right through the eye," she managed to say, her words a little slurred.
"Aye," Coran agreed with a hearty smile, patting her once on the shoulder then withdrawing his hand when she winced. "A fine, fine shot."
"And thanks fer peppering that thing with arrows so it let me go. Think it wanted to carry me off like an owl with a mouse," Imoen said with a shudder.
"Of course." Coran nodded. "Garrick was the one who got off the first bolt, by the way. A cool head on those shoulders." He smiled over at the lad. "Nice shot too."
"Thanks," Garrick said, a little pride but mostly worry on his face as he looked at Imoen.
Must look quite the mess. She felt intact though, at least. "So now we've got a pair of wyvern heads," she noted. "How are we going to carry the big gory trophies around though?"
Coran frowned. Apparently he hadn't thought of that.
Her pretty, superior face all scrunched up in a deep scowl, Hareishan rubbed the growing bruise on her jaw. "If you wish to act like an animal," she growled at the chair her men had just flung Shar-Teel onto, "you shall be treated as one!"
"Wouldn't have it any other way," Shar-Teel snarled right back, her wrists and ankles now locked in place with manacles, and her knuckles just a little sore from the punch she had delivered. She hocked up what phlegm she could and chucked it at the Calishite, but Hareishan managed to dodge.
They shared a glare for a time, then Shar-Teel grew impatient and swept the room with her eyes. It was obviously a torture chamber, what with the brown stains on the floor and walls and the roughcut tables covered with mismatched steel implements. If the cruel saws, needles and rusted pliers left any doubt, then the two naked, emaciated men who hung from chains on the far wall drove the point home. They appeared to be corpses; unmoving and covered with open wounds and old black burns, but perhaps the men still clung to life. Hard to tell.
"So," Shar-Teel snapped, looking back at her captor, "let's get to the torture already!" Hareishan just glared at her with narrow eyes, and Shar-Teel glanced over at the two men who had hauled her into the chamber. "Or is rape-by-proxy more your game? Doubt these pathetic excuses for men could get much of a peep out of me, but maybe they're packing more than you'd expect. Let's see 'em! Drop trou, you shrimps!"
The guards were scowling just as deeply as the Calishite witch now, and Shar-Teel gave them a sneer for good measure.
"I was hoping the decor here would snap some sense into you," the witch muttered.
"Ha!" Shar-Teel barked. "Sounds like you've got no leverage at all then. No rape and no torture allowed for me? And if you had a spell that would charm me into obedience I'm guessing you would have used it by now."
"I have plenty of electrical spells ready." The witch held up her fingers, thumb and index a hairbreadth apart. "And I'm this close to turning you into a shuddering, blackened, burnt-out husk, orders or no."
"Then fucking do it!" Shar-Teel challenged her. "Not the death I'd have chosen, but I'll go to the abyss with a smile on my lips knowing you've brought the wrath of Tazok down on you."
Muscles in Hareishan's face twitched, obviously at war with each other.
"You can't though, can you? Ha! Even after I jabbed old uncle Tazok in his thigh he decided to let me live, and left orders 'bout it huh? Can't touch me can you? For all your highness and preening."
Hareishan stamped her foot and whirled towards her men. "That is it!" she snapped. "We are going to do exactly as she asks!" She pointed at the guards. "You two-"
"Uh…miss?" one of the men interrupted. "I don't think that's a good idea."
The other one frowned. "Yeah. Orders or no I don't really want-"
"Don't tell me you don't want to show this bitch-" Hareishan began.
"They have the right of it!" A booming voice echoed through the chamber, Tazok's bulky figure twisting his way through the door frame.
"Master Tazok," Hareishan stammered. "I-"
The ogre silenced her with a wave of his hand. "She's quite a mouth on her," he said with a shrug. "Always got her in trouble. You should have just gagged her." He waved his hand towards the doorway. "Out."
The three humans scurried past him and out of sight as fast as they could.
Once they were gone the ogre shook his head and took a few more stomping steps into the room. "Really Rashelt? I've seen prisoners do a lot of things in my time, but trying to taunt someone into torturing you? Out of spite? That's a new one."
"I use whatever weapon is at hand," Shar-Teel said, shrugging as much as she could in the bonds. "Spite was the only thing available. And it suits me well enough."
Tazok just shook his head. "You're the biggest ingrate I've ever met, Rashelt. I remember a pretty little girl with pigtails who didn't want for anything. Next thing I hear you've run off with some wild woman, gotten that pretty face scarred and rearranged your name into something silly. 'Shar-Teel?' Is it supposed to sound intimidating or something?"
"My father was going to marry me off to some pig three times my age!"
"Yeah yeah yeah. Bird in a gilded cage and all that rot." The ogre snorted. "Still no idea how good you had it compared to most. And your pa and I killed a lot of people to give you that life." He reached down and examined a pair of pliers. They were worn, rusty, and looked like they had seen a lot of unfortunate teeth.
"How I'd love to show you." A scowl. "Show you how bad life can truly get, down here in my favorite room in the complex." He pointed the pliers at one of the men hanging from the wall. "Got a whole tenday of screaming out of Minnois over there. He only just expired this morning."
Shar-Teel grinned. "And you have far more reason to go at it with me I'll wager."
"Eh?"
"What? News about your little army in the Sharp Teeth hasn't gotten back here?" The ogre's eyes narrowed. "The whole camp burned to the ground, the hobs and Black Talons cut down and scattered; the entire operation in in ruins. I was there. Watched big Tenhammer Khousan himself get dragged off like a common criminal by the Flaming Fist. Hope they have his head mounted on the Wyrms Gate by now." She bared her teeth and gave the ogre her best smile.
"Didn't particularly care which direction the mercenaries who hired me said to point my blade," Shar-Teel went on, "but I laughed when I found out they were going after-"
With a sudden jolt she was flying. When the chair struck the wall it broke with a bone-jarring crack and she fell belly-first to the dirt. Shaking her head to clear it, Shar-Teel scrambled on her hands and knees, eyes focusing on a nearby table. She launched herself towards it, reaching for a knife and moving as fast as she could in the confining dress Hareishan had put her in. Tazok's bulk reached her first, his shadow blocking the lamplight, and a massive hand caught her by the throat before she could grab the knife.
Slammed against the stone of a nearby wall, Shar-Teel clawed at fingers that were nearly the size of her own wrists, the breath choked out of her. Eventually the pressure let up just a little, and with bleary eyes she looked up at the ogre.
"Very tempting," Tazok growled again, then his mouth twisted up at the tusks; his version of a smile. "But you're coming back to Baldur's Gate with me. Alive. We'll be leaving in a few days." The sneer grew. "Your father's been practicing the perfect spells for your return. Powerful enchantments. So enjoy the few days you have left with a free mind. When he's done with you you'll want to marry the first old, rich pig he picks. You'll want to breed him some nice little piglet grandchildren." He laughed. "You'll be happy baking cookies for them all, meek and barefoot and pregnant by the stove."
There was a sadistic gleam in the ogre's eye as he saw her defiant expression break, replaced by a look of horror. "Good. Everyone's got a weak spot and I think I just found yours." Another laugh, and then he twisted the knife. "I'll have to see if Hareishan or Natasha can dig up any good enchantments in the meantime. Give you a taste of what's to come. We'll make you a good blushing bride and put your family back on the map, one way or another."
"Please. You're going to crush me." The words weren't exactly spoken with panic though, and Xan found himself patting Imoen's shoulder as the short girl's arms enveloped him.
"I know yer boney but I'm not that strong." Her voice was muffled against his chest, and she rocked from side to side a bit. Eventually there was a chuckle. "Hehe. Real boney. I think yer even thinner than the last time I did this, back when the caravan got attacked and I thought you were dead."
Tilting back, Imoen looked up with shining eyes. "Just as glad now as I was then."
Xan nodded slightly. "Relieved to see you in one piece as well, despite the odds." The meeting place was on the bank of a river, beneath a big willow oak thick with hanging moss. Seven exhausted faces surrounded the human and the elf, dirty from long days of travel and battle. Some looked relieved, others just tired, and Kivan was glaring hard at the cloaked figure of the drow.
"Yeah, it was something," Imoen said. "Almost ended up wyvern-food at one point."
"A fate I am familiar with."
"Doubt you got snatched up in one of those critter's talons like a rabbit though."
Xan allowed himself a grim laugh. "You always have such stories."
"Just glad I'll be able to tell 'em in person now." Another hug, and she pressed her head against his chest. For a time Xan stood there awkwardly, but gradually his shoulders relaxed and he found himself patting her back. There would be planning ahead, and very likely battles as well, but for now he couldn't think of anything better than standing there and being grateful to be alive. Grateful even, that some other people were alive as well.
At the height of another stifling mid-elesias afternoon the pond looked quite inviting. A little muddy and wild perhaps, ringed with green scum at the edges, but the water was also mostly shaded, a few shafts of sunlight filtering down through the thick elm branches and hanging willows.
"Looks like a decent swimming hole," Ashura observed, setting down her pack and getting a closer look, Coran at her side. She tossed a rock, thoughtfully watching the ripples, then shrugged and walked to the water's edge. No monsters or snakes were stirred up, which seemed good enough for her. She started tugging at the strings that held her boots tight.
"If we're going to swim I guess we should take turns," Garrick suggested. "The ladies can go first of course." By the time he had spoken up Ashura and Coran were halfway out of their clothes already, and they ignored him as they went about with the rest. "Uh…" the young bard stammered.
Eldoth was beside him now, slipping off his boots as well. He patted Garrick on the arm. "Haven't you ever been to a festhall before?" the bigger man asked, sly grin on his face as always. He walked on.
"Not really, no," Garrick managed.
There was a shrug beside him, and Imoen gave him a smile. "It's okay. Not like we all haven't seen you naked before."
Garrick frowned, color rising to his cheeks. "Pointing that out doesn't really help."
By then Ashura and Coran had fully undressed and were standing side by side on a big, sun-bleached rock, her pale backside and scars contrasting with his tattoos and copper-tone skin. They exchanged a glance and a laugh, then both plunged at once into the water, twin splashes flying high.
Eldoth followed shortly, and Imoen spent some time on the shore trying to coax Xan and Garrick into the water. "Come on, aren't elves supposed to frolic? This is the perfect spot for frolicking!"
"You should know well by now that I do not frolic."
"Then just swim a bit!" A giggle. "Tomorrow's gonna be all about ugly business, and I'm determined to wheedle some fun out of you."
In the end Xan relented and followed Imoen into the water, the girl slipping beneath the surface in her underclothes before eventually tossing them onto a nearby rock. Being an elf Xan had little compunction about undressing in mixed company, but 'fun' was another matter. He did his best to stay stony-faced.
Even Garrick went in eventually, wading carefully into the water with his breechcloth still tied around his waist. Faldorn was gone as usual, likely off scouting in animal form, and that left a pair of very mismatched elves sitting by the pond.
Waves splashed the shore, propelled by stroking arms and kicking feet, and the surface of the water glistened like a hundred diamonds. Above it all constant laughter rose into the air.
Kivan found he was enjoying the sight and the music more than he would have thought. Before, all of his thoughts had revolved around finding Tazok and paying the monster the debt long owed. Now he was less certain.
He sat on a rock in the shade of a willow tree, diligently sharpening the blade of his halberd while most of the others swam. Ajantis would have never approved; on their journey he had much to say about how inappropriate it was for unmarried members of the opposite sex to bathe together, eliciting a lot of eye-rolling from Shar-Teel. Now that he was gone there was no one to object. A sad thought; Kivan missed the naïve youth. He would have traded away his quest for vengeance if it brought Ajantis -or even Shar-Teel- back. But wishing could not make it so.
The sight of the sparkling water was inviting, here in the last flaming of days of summer, but someone had to stand watch over these young fools while they played.
Of course, sitting on the shore and standing guard had left Kivan in strange company. He glanced over at the drow, leaning in the shade of a separate tree and holding her cowl close, as if the sun was her worst enemy. Her cold, violet eyes were fixed on Kivan.
"What?" the wild elf growled, glaring across at the dark creature.
"The other darthiir bares me no malice," Viconia stated, inclining her head towards the wood elf who was happily trying to dodge Ashura's splashes.
"He is a fool," Kivan replied.
"Bah! I bare you no malice as well! Why can you not see that? We are even alike, in a manner. I have noticed that you follow a god of vengeance. I do the same."
"Mine is a god of vengeance against the drow!"
"And you think I would not hesitate to kill every drow who has wronged me? The treacheries of Menzoberranzan destroyed my house, killed the few people I ever loved and threw me out into the underdark! If you offered to help me hunt members of House Do'Urden I would certainly not refuse."
"It is not-"
"Oh, I think it is much the same. You think me devious, treacherous and complex, but I tell you now: I am a simple woman. If someone wrongs me I destroy them without mercy. Leave me alone and I do the same."
"Then just leave me alone," Kivan growled, returning his gaze to the halberd. Thankfully she fell silent as well.
To his annoyance he still sensed the eyes upon him though, and eventually he felt compelled to speak. "I have suspicions still. The way you try to influence the girl. She is innocent."
"Influence? Bah! She is simply abbil. She saved my life, and more than that she has shown me kindness no one else on the surface has."
"So you pledged your devotion to her?"
A glance up and he saw that Viconia was smirking. "Something like that. The first night we shared a room I offered to pleasure her. I thought it would repay the debt, and perhaps was what she had in mind when first I was saved, but she politely declined. What was it she said? 'I don't really swing that way…' Such an odd phrase. A shame."
Kivan snorted. "It is as my people say of the drow. They know nothing of love, only the exchange of 'favors.'"
She was not offended. "There is some truth to that."
Silence fell over them again, and lasted until a figure emerged from the water, dripping as he approached. The newest member of their odd little band; the dark haired man with the permanent smirk that made Kivan nearly as suspicious as he was of the drow. The man was naked, drying his hair and shoulders with a cloth, and the coolness of the water did not hide the fact that the gods had gifted him generously. Unsurprisingly the drow stared with a lascivious grin on her face as he approached and casually wrapped the strip of linen around his waist.
"Alas," Viconia said when the man reached them. "I was enjoying the view."
A sly grin. "I've always been of the opinion that one should keep a little air of mystery," Eldoth said. "Though perhaps it is too late for that."
"In my house we always kept loincloths on the pleasure-slaves," Viconia stated, a little wistful-sounding. "Not necessary, considering their purpose, but the mystery was nice at times."
"Slaves," Kivan grumbled.
"It is a life I left behind long ago," she said with a shrug.
"But one you enjoyed."
"I would not deny that."
Eldoth did not seem the least bit off-put. He slipped down onto the moss beside the drow. "I, for one, would love to hear a fascinating tale or two of your culture. Perhaps over wine?"
"You have wine?"
"In addition to the brandy. I always like to be prepared for a journey."
Kivan shook his head and stood while the two chatted, side by side and hip to hip.
Fine with him. The two snakes deserved each other.
At the center of the clearing the campfire rolled and crackled, casting flickering light across the seven faces that huddled around. Ashura had her chainmail laid out across her lap, examining her kit, and Kivan kept his hands busy fletching arrows, using fresh feathers plucked from the wild turkey they had eaten for dinner. Garrick had his face pressed down in into a book, presumably some sort of journal he always seemed to be writing in these days, and Faldorn was curled up on her side, already asleep, her wolf laying against her back.
Tomorrow they would plan the assault on the old dwarven clanhold, and maybe even implement it. For now it just felt like any other night of summer camping, enjoying the fire and the food and company.
Coran and Xan sat on either side of Imoen, Xan with his nose in his spellbook and the wood elf watching the fire dance. My elves, she thought to herself. She seemed to be adopting a lot of them lately.
"It appears I simply have no luck with the ladies anymore," Coran whispered, glancing at the patch of darkness where Viconia and Eldoth had nonchalantly disappeared a little while ago. For once Imoen couldn't hear any passionate cries, but then again she didn't have keen elven ears. Cries or no, it was easy enough to guess what they had slipped off for.
"It's cause we all know what you're about," Imoen said with a smirk. "You really need a new strategy. Pick one 'lady' and make her feel special, instead of flitting to one after another like a dog rootin' around everywhere for bones."
"That's…quite a metaphor. I'm not sure your 'strategy' would have worked with the dark, exotic beauty though."
"Nope. I almost think she just jumped on the big Illuskan guy so quick 'cause she knew it would annoy you." Imoen chuckled. "Would be just like her. I think her main goal in life is getting a rise out'a folks."
"Drow are manipulative," Kivan growled nearby.
"Yup, but she's only like that in a playful, pranky way. She's not so bad."
Kivan just shook his head at that.
"I guess you could try the wild woman," Imoen suggested, tilting her head towards Faldorn. "In yer quest for 'luck.'"
Coran shook his head, a wistful smile on his face. "No. I have sharper senses than you think. It's pretty clear she's in mourning over a lover, and I won't interfere with that."
"Ah," Xan whispered. "She did have two male companions. One old and one young. One died fighting the wyverns and their tamers and the other fell to Tazok and his men." He gave Faldorn a ponderous look. "I wonder which one was her mate. She did not seem enraged or sad over either."
"No, but she's been doing a lot of howling, at night when she's a wolf," Coran pointed out. "And why does it have to be one of the men? Why not both?"
Imoen giggled. "We're such gossips."
"I know, and isn't it fun?" Coran whispered, turning. The firelight danced in his eyes.
Another giggle. Times like these she was a little tempted to take the rakish elf up on his standing offer; take his hand and walk out of the circle of light, maybe find a cozy bed of moss and see if he was just all talk. Knowing the fact that he'd just move on the next day and probably brag about the whole thing put a damper on the idea though. That and leaving Xan alone by the fire might hurt his feelings.
A wicked thought occurred to her. 'Why not both?' Now there was a big tangle of interesting ideas. Xan would never agree of course. He seemed so proper and prudish. Though maybe she did not know him all that well. He seemed so effete at times; delicately beautiful. And Coran often acted like he was up for anything. Maybe the two of them…
"You're blushing quite profusely," Coran noted with a smirk.
Imoen scrunched up her face, then shrugged. "Bah. Caught me I guess. Pondering how wild druids can get. Maybe we ought to get Garrick to compose a randy song on the subject."
"Now there's an idea." The girl and the two elves continued gossiping late into the night, mostly driven by Coran, but Xan contributed an idea here and there, much to Imoen's surprise (and delight.)
Tomorrow there would be planning, and a dangerous assault perhaps. Tonight they were simply friends huddled around a campfire and laughing.
Author's Note: Just another summer camping trip, complete with skinny-dipping, campfire gossip, people pairing up, and of course wyvern attacks.
Shar-Teel's backstory here is based a bit on stuff from the Baldur's Gate NPC Project mod and some things of my own invention (like Shar-Teel's 'real' name.) Also I like the idea of Sarevok, Tazok, Semaj, Tomoko and Angelo all going on lots of *evil* adventures together and knowing each other pretty well. They had to get to level 15 somehow, after all.