Disclaimer: disclaimed in its entirety, minus Majandra and my tweaks

A/N: Once again, you've found your way to my story! Yay! But did you review? Probably nay… TT… anyways, this is the new version of chapter two, and I hope you enjoy it.

-LFK

Halls of Justice, Aribeth's Chambers…

"Lord Tyr, liege of my heart, grant this humble paladin a simple boon," Lady Aribeth de Tylmarande paused as sorrow choked her throat before continuing her prayer to Tyr the Even-Handed at the private altar in her simple chambers. "The people of this city, innocents all, are being lost to the devastating malignancy of the Wailing Death. I ask that you show us the way to cure this plague and return Neverwinter to its former glory, even should such a deed take my own insignificant life."

Aribeth bent her head in respect to the stone altar and then turned to leave her chambers, stopping only to check her appearance in the standing mirror opposite the foot of the four-poster bed. She pulled stray strands of auburn hair back into place behind her sharply pointed ears and then straightened her enchanted plate mail so it once again rested on her body like the smoothest of silks.

She was about to turn and leave when a young acolyte of the temple knocked hastily on the thick, ironwood door and then pushed into the room with a clumsy bow.

"Milady Aribeth!" the lad gasped as he tried to straighten heavy, linen robes creased from running. "There is something that you have to see in the entrance chamber!"

"What is it, lad?" Aribeth replied with a forced smile. Her mind raced as her heart hovered somewhere between apprehension and hope.

"Father Anderson refused to tell us," the boy replied as he all but dragged Aribeth out of her chambers with his words and led the way down the stairs that led from the dormitories to the main temple. "But I SAW her when they dragged her in! She has horns, and a TAIL!"

"Oh really?" Aribeth replied calmly. Up ahead, by the entrance, she saw a ring of temple guards surrounding a curled up form on the ground. She had strolled through the ring of guards so quickly that they barely had time to shout warnings before she was kneeling beside the blood-covered body of what appeared to be an abused elven girl.

Her breath caught as she realized what she was seeing a moment later. "A fey'ri!" she breathed as she gently touched the rocking, shivering girl on the shoulder.

The girl didn't respond to the touch, just kept rocking back and forth muttering the same words over and over again. "I am not a demon. I am not a demon. I am not a demon…."

"Who is this woman?" she demanded of the nearest guard, a young man who was trembling with either fear or anger, she couldn't tell. "How did she get here?"

"She's a minion of evil, Milady! Sent by the demons who cursed us with this plague to cause even more harm!" The sword gripped in his hand could have shattered from the pressure his grip had. All the knuckles on his right hand had turned white with strain.

That's right, Aribeth thought as she inspected the girl with tentative fingers. Kayle lost his family when tieflings sent by a balor destroyed his village. I really should do better background checks on the guard force! Her delicate probing revealed the girl's heritage further when she found two silvery horns partially concealed in the waves of raven black hair and, what had first appeared to be a belt, a long tail tipped with a spike the same color as her hair.

"Well, don't just stand there!" her voice cracked like a whip over the stunned guards. "Get this woman to a spare room! I will heal her wounds myself, and learn exactly what a child of darkness is doing in Neverwinter." The white-robed clergymen bowed before carrying out her words, two carrying the girl while the others held her weapons and belt pouch.

Is this the sign that I have waited for? Aribeth thought as she followed the litter with her eyes, gaze fixed on the luminescent, deathly white face of the fey'ri. Or is this just another plot hatched by our enemies? She let the guardsmen get out of sight with their burden before following slowly after, silent but for the muted thud of her sheathed bastard sword striking her cloth-like armor.

Halls of Justice, Cells…

So, how did it feel to bathe in the blood of your enemies, demon-girl? Rekkei-maru's voice slid sickeningly through Majandra's mind, lighting up the void-like dream world that was the fey'ri's refuge when she found peace in neither the Reverie of her elven kin nor the semi-catatonic state of her demonic sires. Wonderful? It has been many days since we drank the blood of our victims!

I'm a monster… Majandra thought despairingly as she curled up tighter on herself in the single beam of light that shone directly on her, tail curled around her knees and black, ethereal wings hunched around her shoulders. When on the Prime Material plane, the birdlike wings only appeared when she felt strong emotion or had to tap into her true power. A sick, disgusting, rabid monster only deserving of death…

No you're not! Tekkei-maru's presence, a soothing blue in Majandra's subconscious, turned the dreamscape a deep purple where it had been blood red due to Rekkei-maru's influence. Stop tormenting the girl with your war-mongering nonsense, Rekkei! Listen well, Maggie, Majandra stopped her whimpering as her surroundings grew steadily lighter due to Tekkei-maru's increasing good influence. In the back of her mind, she could hear Rekkei-maru simmering in the depths of her bloodrage. Monsters do not feel remorse for the lives they take! You may have the blood of demons running in your veins, but it does NOT define whom you are!

Majandra blinked awake, golden eyes unused to the white light that flooded her room, and then started back with a squeak that cut off abruptly as she struck her head on the oak headboard of her bed. Staring down at her with a warm smile was an unfairly beautiful elven woman garbed in finest of paladin armor. The silvery plates shone with the telltale sign of enchantment to Majandra's sensitive eyes, runes of power glistening where the steel overlapped.

"Ah," the woman said. Even her voice was perfect, a combination of tinkling chimes and reverberating bells. "I had hoped you would awaken soon from your rest. The wounds you took were quite extensive. How did you gain them?" the tall woman stood calmly in the center of the small, bare room, hands away from her weapons, as Majandra, lithe tail lashing in anxiety, leapt off the bed and stumbled back until she was against the far wall.

"Who are you?" Majandra demanded, eyes darting about as she sought an escape from the windowless room. The only exit she could see was the iron bound door, but instinct as well as common sense told her that it was hopeless. "Where are my things? My weapons and gear?" her stuff, even her clothes were gone, leaving her standing about in an old nightshirt and, curiously enough, a pure silver bracelet on her right wrist that was strangely silent to her magic detecting senses.

"I believe the guest is the one who should introduce herself first, does she not?" Aribeth replied calmly. "Tell me, who are you, and what is your occupation?" So far, she felt that her first assumptions about the girl, that she wasn't evil, were correct. Coupled with the mutterings she had heard the fey'ri utter in her dreams made her feel that she could almost be trusted not to act dishonorably.

"My name is," Majandra paused as she fought with suspicion and the almost painful desire to trust and be safe again. On the planes, names existed to be exploited, and giving away your own could be the cause of your downfall. "Majandra," she finished finally. "Majandra Damar, survivor."

"I see." Aribeth's blue-green eyes softened with compassion for the tense woman. Survivors were people who, like barbarians or berserkers, threw themselves into the heart of conflicts to flirt with death, using skills drawn from all the common and prestige classes. Survivors typically chose their trade after experiencing an event where they should have died and yet did not, usually associated with close family members or companions. Those that chose this profession were endowed with eyes that were flecked with blood red specks. That this girl, not a day over two centuries by elven standards, had survived her occupation was a testament to her skills with combat as well as magic. "My name is Lady Aribeth de Tylmarande, Paladin of Tyr and defender of Neverwinter's faithful."

"A pleasure, I'm sure." Majandra replied as she bowed gracefully to the other woman, a wry twist to her lips. "But that in itself begs a question. Why would a paladin of a demon hating order save a tainted one such as I?" this last was said with a distinct hint of bitterness as well as resignation. Was she going to be sent back to the Abyss and endless fighting now, trapped and helpless? The idea of dying so made her blood boil and the specks in her eyes flare.

"Please, take a seat," Aribeth said as she took the only chair in the room and gestured to the bed. Majandra sat gracefully, tail lying across her lap as she waited for Aribeth to continue. "You were saved because I personally believe you to be a follower of justice and good, and so this temple welcomed you to partake of its aid. Now, how long have you been in the city, and what is your purpose?"

"I have been in the region for three weeks," Majandra replied truthfully. "I slipped past the guards and entered the city eight days ago. I was only meaning to stay for a few days before continuing my journey to Silverymoon." Something about this elven paladin, this Aribeth, made lying in her presence seem the highest of sacrileges.

"I see." Aribeth made a noncommittal noise as a frown creased her forehead for a moment before smoothing away. "Then I assume that you know about the plague that has struck my home, killing thousands each day with its malignant presence?

"Oh yes, I know of your plague, if that is what you wish to call it." Majandra replied angrily, tail lashing once before calming down again. "I have been attacked many times by untrained boys as well as guardsmen, sometimes for being an elf and others for being a fey'ri, because they want me for some kind of cure for the curse."

"My apologies," Aribeth said with a wince. The woman's treatment was not going to make persuading her to help any easier. "The people are strained to the point of breaking. But please, explain what you mean by a curse?"

"I think not," Majandra replied with a crooked grin as she settled back onto the bed comfortably. "Not until you explain what exactly this thing on my wrist does." She shook the bracelet at the paladin. "It is not mine, therefore it is some device of yours."

"It," Aribeth hesitated. She had felt the trust building up between her and the nearly feral woman. Revealing the true purpose of the bracelet could dash it all to pieces in one small sentence. "It is a bracelet worn by all prisoners and ex-cons in Neverwinter," she said with a sigh as she saw the edges of Majandra's beautiful golden eyes darken as rage bled into them. "The magic is nearly undetectable, but the more unforgivable the crime, the harsher the punishment is if the parolee should attempt to harm the citizens of the city once more. It is a shock collar, more or less."

"And just what level is the one that you have locked on me?" Majandra asked stiffly. She ignored the guilt she saw in the paladin's eyes and instead focused on suppressing her anger. This Aribeth woman was like all the others, kind until you realized what they wanted and then willing to force it out of you if you resisted.

"It's the highest one." Aribeth flinched as she saw the coldness in the other woman's eyes. She had fought Lord Nasher on the decision to cuff the fey'ri, but the aged ruler had insisted upon it, refusing to believe her words that the wounded girl was a potential ally. "It will drain your life should you choose to harm any citizen, not stopping until you are on the verge of death."

"And legends are told of the tolerability of the city of Neverwinter?" Majandra chuckled mirthlessly as Aribeth averted her eyes. "If this is how the city acts in times of hardship, I would love to see it in war!" she walked over the iron door and knocked sharply. She was rewarded by her efforts when a plate slid back into the doorframe and two scared eyes peaked through. "The Lady Aribeth will be leaving now," she said coldly as she heard Aribeth get to her feet behind her. "I would advise you ready whichever archers and pikemen outside my door. I may be more dangerous than I look." She ended with a toothy grin that widened as she heard the guardsman squeak with fear. "It was a pleasure speaking with you," she told Aribeth with a mocking bow. "Think on exactly how much you want my information, and then return. I'll be waiting…"

Aribeth opened her mouth to respond and then closed it and nodded resolutely. She would do her best to persuade her lord to reverse this twisted vision of justice, and gain back the noble fey'ri's trust in the process. "I'll be back, Majandra," Aribeth said firmly, azure eyes locking with gold. "And when I return, you will be serving the city of Neverwinter as a free woman!" she marched out of the cell, back stiff with ire towards herself for handling the woman carelessly, for Lord Nasher for putting her in this position to begin with, and for the evil doers who had sent this plague upon their heads.

A/N: wow! You made it to the END of chapter two! That's more than about four hundred of y'all can say, ne? so, you gonna review? Personally, I think you should, but, since you know you won't, don't sweat it! Just keep on reading, and I'll know how it's being taken by the number of hits… you didn't honestly believe me when I said don't review, did you? PLEEEEEEEASE feed this review-starved author! Lol, til next time then!

-LFK