AN: just like, stuff and stuff
The Fighter's Rogue Rose
Chapter Four: The Beautiful Dread
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There were finally nearing the crumbling Shattered Sanctum, the sun flirting with the far horizon. Lorraine and Aradin had been chattering idly all the by, brushing shoulders, stealing glances. They asked questions and gave answers, and with every passing moment the undeniable tension between them grew.
At one point, they came across a splash of blackberry bushes and Lenny plucked several for some quick sustenance. "Would you like some?" she offered to her companion politely.
Aradin gazed at her for a moment, a curious twinkle in his eye. "I'll take one."
Lenny handpicked a particularly nice and plump berry for him and began to hand it over, but the man did not budge an inch. Tenacious, Aradin appeared amused with himself, standing tall as his beckoning mouth parted to welcome the snack.
He wanted her to feed it to him.
Her cheeks singed, heart aflutter, but tenuously she obliged. Her fingers, usually so deft and agile, weakly rose to his face where she plopped the juicy fruit in between his heart-shaped lips.
His darkening stare held her own, unwavering as he attractively sucked on the sweetly sour cluster. "Mm. Tart."
Lenny blinked bashfully, turning her attention away from him to deposit her small amassment of berries into her bag, hiding the shy smile she could not seem to wipe off of her face.
"So…" she went on minutes later. "You and your Beno boys,"
"Yeh, what about 'em?"
"Well, you said before, it's your last name."
"So?"
"I was just clarifying… What other sort of jobs did you get up to?"
"Shh…" Aradin stopped them in their tracks, a firm hand at the middle of her back. A set of voices could be heard echoing in the vast distance. Lorraine inwardly tingled from the contact, noting in her mind, surprised at just how big his hand felt on her tiny frame. That was all she could concentrate on as the voices eventually dwindled.
They both let out long breaths, a brief relief they did not encounter anyone on their journey yet, though they still had a ruined encampment to investigate. There was plenty of time for things to go awry.
Finally, they found themselves lingering on the outskirts of the crumbling rubble that remained of the once immaculate acropolis. The region was relatively, suspiciously silent, and from that far entrance it was difficult to be certain if the old castle was currently inhabited. It still reeked, the stench of stale, rotten flesh stinging at their eyes.
Lenny could feel that something was off, that they weren't going to be alone once they waltzed in there, and they couldn't just walk in there. It would be far more practical to take a bit of a detour, go the long way inward, lest they cared to be caught off guard.
She had an idea of Aradin's track record ever since learning of his previous failure at this very place. They couldn't afford to make any mistakes by way of impulse or unwise decisions. If he'd had it his way, she reckoned the fighter would charge in, sword blazing.
Yet Lenny could only imagine the possible onslaught of guilt, the memories of mourning which Aradin might be having now that he was back at this hellhole, but if it bothered him, he gave nothing away. He held a brave face, chin high as if he were ready for anything. She admired his tenacity.
Aradin's deep voice spoke to her softly from above, "So, how do you suppose we – "
"Follow me. I have a plan." She told him hastily and he followed after her in the moonlight. She stopped him beside the stone bridge leading into the fortress, retrieving a long rope from her rucksack. It was a bit frayed at the ends, slightly splintered down the middle but it was in a fair enough condition that it could still be utilized.
Lorraine currently did not having anything with the capability to hold it in place at the top though, no hooks or clasps or ties, but she did not mind holding it for Aradin as he climbed down. He was tall and it wasn't that far down, so gods willing they'd make quick work of this. She wasn't worried about herself, knowing she'd be perfectly capable of shimmying over the rocks to the bottom.
"Now – are you ready?" she queried in a whisper. "I'll keep this snug while you make your way down, alright?"
Aradin considered her for a second, peering over the edge of the small cliff. He shrugged, "I can just jump down there, it's not even that far."
"No, don't do that," she whined. "You're no use to me with a broken ankle, Aradin. Just climb down, real nice like, and stay quiet."
Aradin's eyes met the back of his skull at the scolding tone of her bossy little voice, but he conceded nonetheless and began his appointed venture. He knew himself, knew the things he was good at. At his absolute best, Aradin could be swift, cunning and well-balanced with his movements, yet at his worst, he was entirely too clumsy and heavy-footed.
He hoped that he'd be at his best this time around, not just for their survival, but for his subconscious desire for Lorraine's approval.
It was a vaguely harrowing forty-five seconds, but Aradin made it to the bottom with no hiccups. She let the rope fall in a pile on the ground and Aradin stared up at her troubled. "Will you roll that back up for me?" she asked.
"And just how are you supposed to get down, then?"
"You'll see," she quipped playfully, and tossed herself onto the cliffside in a breeze, steadying herself against the stones. Aradin observed her in awe, hardly an impatient bone in his body as his vision was blessed with an aerial view of her vivacious, curvaceous backside. "Just wait right there and watch to make sure I don't fall."
Oh, he'd be watching alright. "And what if you do fall?"
"Well, you'd catch me, wouldn't you?"
He snickered lightly, "Maybe I would, maybe I wouldn't."
Lenny huffed in agitation, practically spread eagle across the stones. "You would."
Aradin scratched his chin in feigned pondering. "Hmm, but would I?"
"Ugh! You know, when I do make it down there," she heaved herself another meter down the rocks, breathless. "You'll be lucky if one of my boots doesn't make it up your arse!" She could hear him simpering quietly to himself and it drove her further to madness.
Normally, this was so easy for her. Aradin had her so distracted and dreamy brained it made it hard for her to think about anything else other than what he might be thinking, what he might be feeling for her. Did he feel it too? Was he just as frustrated? She was trying not to let it show, too prideful to let him see just how direly he'd caught her fancy.
All she'd wanted was someone rugged and gorgeous to be around as she saw this job through. She hadn't expected to find herself actually becoming fond of the fighter. Aradin, so cocksure, and so expressive though he tried not to be. For the most part, he wore his heart on his sleeve, something Lorraine could admire since she was not always the best at conveying her own emotions.
It was a warm night, and her body heat was on the constant rise. Her palms were inconveniently clammy, and she could feel her fingers suddenly slipping.
'I should have remembered to put on my gloves,' she lamented as her foot faltered against the rocks and she felt herself plunging to the ground.
Aradin was right there, catching her bridal style to her utmost surprise. It wasn't a delicate fall, but the landing wasn't too unpleasant as the man's strong arms squeezed her tightly to his chest. Lenny knew she was small compared to him, had noticed countless times seeing as it was nigh impossible to miss, but it was only just now, as she grasped onto the front of his armor that she realized how much of a giant he really was.
He held her as if she weighed nothing.
She was enamored. Previous to spending time with Aradin, Lenny hadn't deciphered just how much she gravitated toward the taller types. She had heavily considered getting up close and personal with the wild and handsome wood elf, Halsin. Halsin was miles taller than Aradin, but though she had gotten along well with the druid, she'd known in her hearts of heart's that the strong but kindly wood-elf was not the one she wanted to share her first time with.
And well now, Lorraine was becoming frightfully aware of just who she might not mind giving herself away to. She could try denying it, pushing away the thoughts all she could, but she knew who she wanted.
Aradin's teeth were bared charmingly, a dashing grin dimpling his cheek. "See, little elf? And you was worried for nothin'." He squeezed her ever closer, as if to channel his earnestness, his intentions.
Lorraine squirmed sheepishly, her face on fire, the hair at her forehead matted with the sheen of sweat. He unraveled her from his biceps, gently until she was back on her feet though it was a wonder to Lorraine how she was able to stand at all in her, erm… fragile condition. "Thank you," she offered, her demeanor uncharacteristically timid and meek.
Aradin arched a quizzical brow, his grin having lessened to a smirk, though still entirely smug. "Are you gonna be okay there, lass?"
"Yes!" she hissed, a little more aggressively than she meant to and Aradin beamed victoriously. "O-Of course I will."
It was as if he knew exactly what he was doing to her, and she hated it. Oh, she'd get him back somehow. She did not know how yet, but it was almost a guarantee – if only she had a better understanding of just what seducing the opposite sex entailed. She'd hardly ever really tried before, never having a need seeing as, well, suitors just sort of came up to her. Lorraine had never had to instigate anything, had never had to try too hard.
Should she be trying at all? Was that a good thing to do, or would she scare the fighter away? Did he want her to make a move, or was she supposed to be waiting for his? How would she know the correct signal, the right words to say?
It was all so overwhelming. Yes, she might have been debriefed about such things, hazily educated on the basics during those nights in the comfort of Astarion's embraces, but Lorraine had absolutely no experience in the field, save for some mild heavy petting.
Surely, the very little she knew would be enough to inspire... something.
"C'mon, let's go." She urged them onward. "We'll cross the creek here, head up that ladder over there and sneak our way in from the back."
"And hopefully, nothing's up there lurking about," said Aradin, worrying his lip between his teeth.
"Hopefully not, yes."
But there was.
Three oversized gnoll hunters had taken up shelter within the confines of the Sanctum. By the remnants of the fresh blood and guts of the dead prey surrounding them, Lenny could assume the wolfen monstrosities hadn't been there long – yet it appeared as though they were hoping to stay for a while. They lay in a slumbering flea-bitten pile directly before the door of the castle, and it didn't seem like they would be leaving any time soon.
Bollocks.
"Aradin, we're going to have to fight them. There's no sneaking around them when they're right there. Or I suppose we could wait to see if they leave whenever they wake up… but –"
"Who knows when that'll be," Aradin snipped, unsure. "We can't take on all three of them at once, not in a fight just us two, but what if we took out one of them right now while we can? Preferably two of them before they know what hit them. If we could get all three while they're –"
"That's… an ambitious idea. It's not impossible. Let me think, let me think, let me –"
"Why don't we just crawl over there, both of us take one out at the same time and leave the last for a more evened-out battle?"
Aradin was making a lot of sense. His solution, though vastly simple, was definitely the smartest move they could make. That move would likely prove the easiest path through. Lorraine herself would have come to the same calculation eventually, of course, but she was impressed with Aradin all the same. He was practically saying what she were thinking literally right before she thought it. She almost wanted to be mad at him, but he was so easy to be mad at.
She took a deep breath, collecting herself for the inevitable. "Okay. Let's move inward. Are you ready?" Aradin nodded and as suggested, they stealthily crawled over the ground toward the great beasts, their daggers poised.
"Aim for the skull," whispered Aradin and Lorraine fumed.
"I know where to – "
One of the weighty creatures stirred, flopping over in a mangled heap and grunting loudly. Lorraine quieted herself, attempting to reel it back in, concentrating on retaining silence. Aradin wasn't even looking at her, suddenly more hyper-focused and efficient in his movements than she was. This only fueled her fires ever more and she was angry at herself for making this a contest. She should be proud for Aradin, that he could be more reliable and level-headed than she thought.
The fighter may have underestimated the rogue, but the rogue underestimated him right back, and perhaps that hadn't been fair of her.
Then it was time; they were right on top of their targets. Aradin and Lorraine both caught eyes, a searing countdown to three as they readied their sharpened weapons.
The gnolls screeched out in deafening wails of despair as the daggers cracked and squelched through their brains. Abrupt but agonizing, realizing all too late they were already dead. The last of the mutated hyena beasts came to, alarmed from the unforeseen sounds of carnage. Its sickly yellow orbs glowed in the dark, filling with rage.
It swept a large forearm underneath the offensive invaders, tripping them boots in the air. Both Aradin and Lorraine hit the back of their heads on the stone hard. They groaned at the lightning sharp pain, clambering to get back on their feet as the gnoll came to life, black-hearted revenge dripping from its tongue.
"Fuck," Lorraine breathed, her chest tight with fear. Out of all the monsters that ran amuck through the lands above, gnolls made her the least enthusiastic. They frightened her to the bone, actually.
Before the gnoll could make the next move, she notched an arrow and sent it breezing into its chest, missing its heart by in inch. This did nothing but garner more anger from the shocked creature.
"Fuck," she reiterated, the pitch of her voice rising.
"It'll be alright," Aradin tried, raising his longsword and taking a stance. He bore a taunting expression, steadying his large slicer with well-practiced ease. Lorraine was too scared to be able to fully appreciate how handsome and capable her companion looked, her eyes dancing anxiously from beast to mortal. "Come 'ere, ugly,"
The most angry, shrill shriek echoed throughout the sanctum as the gnoll powered itself up to charge its enemy. Aradin dropped down low and with a quickness that surprised Lenny, slid forward and sunk the sharp edge of his sword against the gnolls thigh, leaving a great gash.
Then the fighter turned, attempting to stab upward under its arm from below but the beast was too fast. It slashed its claws haphazardly against Aradin. The front of his armor shredded and Aradin staggered in a slight stupor. Blood splattered down his arm, staining the beige sleeve black-red and Lenny's heart clenched, her body now in overdrive.
Lenny notched arrow after arrow, one sinking into the beast's gut, one in its shoulder. She tried to hit one through the skull but missed, difficult to land a shot as the monster lurched toward a now slowed but consistently dodging Aradin. In order for one of her arrows to kill the gnoll, she'd have to send one right through its eyes, which would not be easy.
Where was her head? What in the hells was she doing? She was going to have to try something far better than this.
From deep in her bag Lenny withdrew and brandished her magic-infused short sword, a last resort. It was longer than a dagger, but smaller than a traditional short sword. Its hilt, which fit all too comfortably in her palm, was a brassy black, platinum silver, frosted at the top with a large, glimmering diamond. The blade was woven with the elements of fire and air and would allow her to slice through her opponents like a smooth table knife to butter.
'The Beautiful Dread', was what they'd called it. The lightweight, nimble sword had a legacy as ancient as the land itself, a worthy token she would have inherited from her father, if her father had lived. So, when Lorraine escaped her uncle and fled from Bristolwood Hall, she didn't steal it, per say. She just might have merely cheekily taken the family sword along with her. She was only looking after it, after all. It was in better hands with her, wasn't it? It was meant to be hers, and it had served her well when she'd needed it.
Could she wield it? Yes. Could she wield it properly? Maybe…
As slight as the sword was, wielding it took a lot of endurance, and a keen understanding of magic itself. Thankfully, Gale of Waterdeep had educated her a bit on that endeavor.
With every ounce of courage she could muster, Lorraine charged at the mighty creature. It noticed her coming, yellow eyes blazing, and swiped its large claws down on her. It missed as she slid under its frantic, fuzzy form. Her own eyes were bright and inflamed, attuning herself to the power of nature, to the forces of magic around and inside her, attuned to the death bringer in hand.
"Hyeah!" Her battle cry felt distant, like watching herself from above as she gracefully but viciously, drove 'the Beautiful Dread' thrice and four, more and more, to over seven or nine times into the gnoll's gut and chest with ease. From each stab drew smoking flames, slowly scorching the monster from the inside out.
With a move like a dancer, she spun around, slashing a gash deep across its throat. Blood spurted and sprayed across her face, all over her clothes and hair. By the time the hyena beast crumpled to the dirt, reduced to kindling debris, Lenny had lost count of how many times her sword had met its flesh.
She was drenched in sanguine liquids and guts, dripping in red rivulets, but her eyes could not see. Her sight was there but she was not, staring into nothing, shell-shocked and soul shattered. She could be skilled at times yes, skilled at killing, but Lenny never liked doing it, and she was terrified at how much she enjoyed using this magical family sword.
Aradin did not speak, only gazed at her in wonder. He was puzzled though impressed, but also undeniably nervous by the small elf's sudden and startling power, her unexpected ferociousness. Aradin had thought they were done for until she'd pulled that little wild card there. He stood slowly, holding his head with his good arm, his bad arm somewhat dangling at his side.
"Your injured," Lenny snapped out of it though still somewhat shaken, her trembling hands tossing the smoking sword in a clatter to the ground and looking for the potions in her rucksack.
"I'll be fine," said Aradin, stubborn as usual. "I think I'm more worried about you."
"Oh?" Lorraine wiped what blood she could from her face with a spare cloth, handing Aradin a vial of the fast-healing, candy red liquid. It was her last one, and she didn't have any scrolls or anything else on her. They would have to be even more clever and cautious moving forward.
Aradin took the vial, grateful, and tipped his head back, gulping it down in one go. He swallowed, nodding his head toward the dropped weapon that shined scintillantly in the moonlight. "Where'd you get the sword?"
Lorraine shrugged. "It's nothing, really, just a very old, er, very legendary family sword."
Aradin almost groaned from annoyance. "You don't keep that on you close? Don't you think it would have helped if – "
They had been so preoccupied with each other they had not noticed the small parade of five people, the warriors in their midst, walking closer to announce themselves.
"Evening there," the voice that greeted them was light and airy, confident and friendly. It was a wizard bard who held a lyre. He was short, thin, and human.
Aradin stood in front of Lorraine, longsword out, aimed at the newcomers. "Not one step closer."
"Easy now," said the bard. "We are not hostile at all, friends, as long as you are not. Just like you we're set on our own path, a path we do not wish to stray from but much like anyone else we need rest. We thought to make a fire and eat our fill, look around for more supplies. We have plenty of food and drink to share. Won't you join us?"
Aradin looked back at Lorraine in question and, wide-eyed, she nodded her consent. There was nothing she wanted less than another altercation. She couldn't get too good a look at them all, but the travelers sounded nice enough.
But the fighter did not yet lower his weapon. "And just where were you lot ten seconds ago when we were facing off with that beast, cowering in the shadows?"
A few of the group chuckled, and another man stepped closer, a ranger. He was taller, maybe just as tall as Aradin. He had long black hair that dusted his shoulders, sweeping it out of his face and behind an ear to reveal his piercing grey eyes, a set of silver stars in the dark.
Lorraine squirmed in her boots, unsure what to do with her hands as the handsome ranger swaggered right past Aradin's sword until he was standing before her. "We only arrived to be witnesses, witnesses to a most captivating sight." He told her, bowing his head and settling on a knee to offer his hand out to her. "Lovely maiden, I have never in my life seen anything so fierce, so beautiful as you in that moment."
Great hells, she didn't know what to say. It was ridiculous, thinking she was beautiful in what she felt was one of the ugliest demeanors she'd ever sported. Lae'zel had described feeling the same way for her after battle, though Lenny could not see the appeal. She was disgusting, covered in blood, sick and filth, and the murderous adrenaline coursing through her veins had her tiptoeing on the line of psychotic. It couldn't be that attractive.
"I, ahm," she stuttered but gave her bloodied hand to the man out of sheer politeness. He did not mind the blood and pressed a chaste kiss to her skin, peering up at her with deep, sparkling admiration. Oh dear, he looked positively struck with her. "Thank… you?" Was this ranger of higher society, like her, or was he just well-versed in social etiquette? Nobody had bowed to her and kissed her hand in quite a long time, and she hoped this man, however dashing he seemed, did not think he actually had a chance with her.
Because he didn't. She had already reserved that spot for… for someone else.
Aradin, overly irritated but tired, held back a laugh and rolled his eyes as he observed the exchange. 'What a fool,' he thought. Did this absolute wanker really believe a girl like her cared about all that elitest horse shit? Yet then again, how could he be certain? Would Lenny like it if he behaved more dignified and ceremonious, bowed to her, acquiesced to her every whim, kissed her bloody arse?
He just really didn't think she did.
The black-haired man got to his feet, not letting go of Lorraine's hand and Aradin had half a mind to chop off those arms for being too familiar. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. My name is Zennith Mournmoor, but most call me Zen."
Ah, yes. Lorraine had heard of the Mournmoors. Zennith was high society indeed, and so was the bard.
"I'm Augustus Pritcharde," added the wizard bard, lowering into a flamboyant bow. "At your service."
"Strider," muttered another ranger, though his sandy hair and solemn posture contrasted Zennith's.
"I'm Winzig," the large, brutish barbarian bellowed from the back. That man was clearly the groups strongarm.
Then lastly, another wizard, a tall, fair-featured high elf who seemed lost in thought and not at all interested in the situation he was in. "Cordeyr."
Aradin hated introductions, and most of all, he hated making new friends. He wasn't about to get all chummy with a bunch of strangers who fell in on the wind, but he supposed it was better than the alternative. "Aradin." He said finally and lowered his sword.
Should she give her real name? "I'm… Lenny."
"Lenny…" Zen breathed, pondering on it. "Surely that can't be your full name, but I'll take it for now."
Aradin's fingers flexed with untapped fury, relieved as the ranger let go of Lorraine's hand.
Winzig and Strider got to working on the fire, Cordeyr quietly beginning to set up the camp and Augustus the bard beckoned for everyone to pitch in. "Come all! The sooner we finish, the sooner we can party until the sun comes up! This could be our last night together, you know! Let's make it count, eh?"
Aradin rubbed at his face, grumbling a slew of ineligible curses. He was irate but exhausted mentally. Lorraine sighed. She supposed they really had no choice, and she and Aradin certainly could use a decent night of rest before they journeyed into the Underdark. Maybe some drinks and a little mingling would loosen them up a little, gods knew they needed it.
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AN: I'm honestly doing too much plot for my own liking! this was mostly supposed to be about sex, I was going to make them jump right into it! But then different ideas happened and I just couldn't bring myself to. I want them to pine until they can't take it anymore. I want them to suffer lol but there will be a big payoff I promise hehe I hope this chapter found you well, lovelies. Happy Friday and I hope your weekends are amazing! Cheers, hens.