Reena - Angry and Afraid

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Eira
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Reena - Angry and Afraid

Post by Eira » Sun Jan 13, 2019 11:30 am

She stood there in the thick darkness of the spell, seeing none of it, only the sprays of blood on steel and stone from the kobolds around her. The woman dared not take a step lest one of the scaly things heard and landed a lucky hit on her. Her shield rested heavy on her back, useless to her now.

Reena watched the elegant twirling movements of the succubus as she tore through the cluster of kobolds. The sight, the twirling beauty, almost took her breath away, before her gaze darkened and she tore her eyes from the demon. That was the purpose of such a thing, was it not? A drunken promise, one part of it now fulfilled. And the rest... it was more difficult to say.

The letter had arrived at dusk as usual, clutched in the wretched little fist of an imp. She hadn't read it it. Hadn't dared to. These days, they only carried taunts and threats, such a difference from the earlier beguiling words. Or were they? Even in the sweetness of it all, the promises of power and beauty and love, there had always been the underlying truth. Do not disappoint me, or you will end up like those before you. Cast out. Tortured. Dead. Useless. Don't be useless.

A sharp snarl from the succubus, and Reena's head jerked to the side, as she saw a sickle slice into the thigh of the fiend. She breathed out a sigh, whispering under her breath as the sickly glow of those damned eldritch powers formed around her hands. The beam of negative energy poured forth from the warlock, twisting around the offending kobold, and Reena watched detachedly as its skin seemed to sink in on itself and the thing toppled over. A look to the succubus showed the flesh of her leg already knitting itself back together.

Killing used to bother her.

If not out of care for the lives of others, but pity. They seemed to desperate to live, with all their rage and swarming intensity. From the very beginning, she had stood back from the fray to watch the demons that always ended up appearing around her, tear into her enemies. In the early days, bloodying her own hands had seemed unthinkable. It was cruel. But who here on this island didn't partake in the cruelty? Everyone had to kill, to grow stronger. Everyone had their reasons. Even her.

With a low growl, Reena reached for her shield, pulling it off her back and drawing the bastard sword from her side. Almost conveniently, as her hand touched the hilt, the spell of darkness faded, and the bright green light emanating from the blade filled the cavern. One kobold turned to raise its club at her, and the sword leaped for its neck.

As the woman fought it was so much less skill than ferocity. Where her sword did not slice, it bludgeoned and battered. Her already impressive strength, so much more enhanced by magic, had not the skill for artistry of blade. She had never learned, and it did not matter. Weapons were tools, no more.

"He. Woulda, Killt. Ya." the woman grunted between swings of her blade. "Alla. Them. Would." She sent a kobold flying with a bash of her shield. "Better. Tha'. He's. Dead."

She wanted to believe her own words. This was for the better. No true friendship could happen between paladin and... well, her. No matter how much she deluded herself with offers of help and talk and food. She had learned that well enough with the other one. So why did it hurt so much now?

"Hells!"

She brought the flat of her sword down on a kobold's head, and the little beast dropped like a rock. Standing there, panting, Reena looked around at the carnage. There were no more moving. The succubus stood by the wall, warms crossed and expression aloof as she stared at the warlock.

Suddenly feeling her exhaustion, Reena dropped to her knees, letting the sword and shield clatter on the ground.

"Why do't gotta be sa 'ard?" She said aloud, looking back over to the succubus. "Why kin people jus' let it all be n' not 'ave ta hurt others 'r judge 'em or..."

The demon offered no answer, but a single raise of its eyebrow.

"Righ', righ'. Yer ain' 'ere fer th' chit-chat, I gettit." Reena raised a hand, making a twirling gesture. "Begone wit' ya."

The flash of the magic circle, and the fiend had disappeared, no doubt reporting back to the one who had bound both of them together.

"But do ya regret it, Reena?" she asked herself aloud, staring up at the ceiling of the cave. "Woul' ya go back n' change everythin'?"

Probably not. Not now.

She used her sword as a cane to stand again, raising a bloodied hand to swipe at her eyes.

Strange to find rain inside a cave.
Last edited by Eira on Tue Jul 30, 2019 10:21 am, edited 1 time in total.

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

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Re: Reena - Drunk and Useless

Post by Gideon DeVay » Mon Jan 14, 2019 2:54 am

An engaging and well-crafted read. Maybe you're a natural, but I sense some consideration and editing work here, and I applaud the quality of the writing.
Strange to find rain inside a cave.
A lovely conclusion. I admire the complexity of the story you've crafted.

I knew Reena was more than the local drunk!

Bookmarked and looking forward to reading more. Keep up the great work!
"Yog don't think Beat Up Guy know how dogman work."

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Re: Reena - Drunk and Useless

Post by Alyxnia » Mon Jan 14, 2019 10:41 am

I think you did a good job encapsulating the far too late remorse that many Warlocks feel in your story, that internal struggle between hope for redemption and acceptance of their newfound powers.
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  • Avdotia Zakharova / "Hathran" - Finished her investigations
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Re: Reena - Drunk and Useless

Post by Eira » Mon Jan 14, 2019 1:45 pm

Gideon DeVay wrote:
Mon Jan 14, 2019 2:54 am
I knew Reena was more than the local drunk!
;) I actually thought Weston knew she was warlock! I'm having a hard time keeping track of who knows and who doesn't, which is perfect cuz that means Reena doesn't remember either.

Thank you, both of you for your comments! I definitely plan to continue these writings as her story continues.

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

Discord: eighra


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Re: Reena - Drunk and Useless

Post by Gideon DeVay » Mon Jan 14, 2019 3:17 pm

No clue :) But then again, Weston wasn't great at spotting warlocks....
"Yog don't think Beat Up Guy know how dogman work."

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Cameron Morning-deceased
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Evelynn Longbrooke-rolled uncermoniously
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Re: Reena - Drunk and Useless

Post by Alyxnia » Mon Jan 14, 2019 11:41 pm

Gideon DeVay wrote:
Mon Jan 14, 2019 3:17 pm
No clue :) But then again, Weston wasn't great at spotting warlocks....
Oof
Player of
  • Neli Ore - Flew too close to the sun
  • Trouble Brightwood - Missing 411'd
  • Avdotia Zakharova / "Hathran" - Finished her investigations
  • Ghashburz Swordeater - In search of honor
Dead but not gone

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Re: Reena - Drunk and Useless

Post by Eira » Fri Jan 18, 2019 7:03 am

"Th' difference, is tha' I won' let ye steal me 'eart," the woman whispered to herself.

The words weren't her own, and every time she uttered them, the sting was the same. No amount of moonshine could dull what had just happened- and she could hardly place into speech what she thought it was. Her gaze shifted to the pack on the ground, worn leather pressing against her leg. To reach down and pull it onto the bench next to her, even to rustle around for more booze, seemed a feat beyond her reach. At least for now.

Nothing but a well-disguised demon.

It would have hurt more, had she not already guarded herself to the bluntness of his words. And even as she felt the sweetness of his hands on hers, to look into his eyes, to feel the disgust and hatred-

Well-disguised demon.

It was too soon. She wasn't strong enough to break away, not from the contract, not from whatever... whatever this had been.

Reena groaned suddenly, leaning forward. Even having run straight to the temple, kneeling before the Broken Man's altar, begging him for some answer, but there was only silence. It was below him to think of such petty problems and worries as this, as what suffering could be redeemed that one's own path had flung them right into? And what selfishness did it take for someone to fall into the arms of one who would only wish them dead? And not just that, but to demand answers from a god for one's own incompetence?

"Ya coulda walked away, ye danged fool," the woman groaned suddenly, leaning forward. "But ye 'ad ta follow. Ye always haveta follow."

What would it take the next time to just ignore his presence? To run away, when every sense screamed for her to do so?

"One'a them's days," she continued her mutter, "ye're gonna end up wit' a sword in yer gut, n' yer gonna deserve e'ery bit o' it."

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

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Re: Reena - Drunk and Useless

Post by Eira » Mon Jan 28, 2019 10:19 am

Persevere in the face of pain.

The altar loomed before the kneeling woman, far from pristine in its age, but she saw naught of the dings and scrapes, ignored the droplets of dried blood that had wet its surface from so many. No small bit of that blood came from her own hands- to cleanse herself of the proof of her burdens, of the burdens of others, would do naught but shame the one she followed.

Heal the sick, the wounded, and the diseased.

All she could do was speak the question of that hells-damned priest back to herself. His words joined her litany, as had the curiosity, the hatred, the fear- Anything the woman could repeat again and again as a reminder of why she was here.

“If a stranger begged your aid- would you help them?”

When walking the streets of the city, that answer seemed so simple. The newcomers, the young folk, the ones who no longer cared for the gore that wet their clothes and armor, for the bile that seeped from their lips… Who else would? So many times, she saw the pain and plights of a strange face ignored. Order and law never took notice of them- so who else?

But alone in a broken-down cottage, surrounded by evil, staring in the face of a man she could not help but to despise, that answer felt weak. His eyes had pierced right through her, seeing so easily beyond the veil of desperate lies she had concocted to save herself. And when the strangers in question were those who would only see her burnt and hung- When her next answer may have been the difference between life and death-

It was not that easy.

Comfort the dying, the griefstricken, and the heartsick.

One man.

One man it took to see through her drunkenness, her feigned rage and carelessness. One man who had offered no judgement, only kindness and aid and a promise of freedom. One man who, no matter how much she had tried to push him away, to scoff at his request, to convince him that she was not worthy, she was not what he was looking for…

Take on the burdens and the pain of others.

The woman looked down to the rust-red chainmail in front of her. She lay a hand over it, feeling the countless barbs pricking and pulling at her skin. And how could one understand the pain if they never faced it of themselves? As a child would wail from a scraped knee and a hardened warrior would press forward even as their guts threatened to spill from their body- so much, she had faced.

And even so, was inviting poison and disease for the sake of proving herself… was it worth it? Such armor may be donned by Loviatans and Ilmateri alike… but the reasons for each were so vastly different.

Perhaps on the surface.

Champion the causes of the oppressed and unjustly treated, and give shelter and kind counsel to the lonely, the lost, and the ruined.

Frostblade.

Is that what it meant?

And no matter how much she tried to prove herself, running with desperate words, with fear for the ones she could not help but care about- the woman knew it was not out of a sense of justice. And for all the posturing, for all the ideals of those paragons of good and order and light and hope, all she could see from them was grotesque corruption.

Strike down anyone different.

Strike before questions may be asked.

Strike.

They were different. He was different. She was different. This group- as hated they were by those who supposedly championed order in the city, if there was any good in the depths of this rotten place, it was them.

Pursue the service of Ilmater, and he will provide—leave gross riches and the acquisition of all but medicines to others.

He did indeed provide.

But she would have been a fool to try and convince herself that all the drink, the booze, the alcohol, so many words for the same thing- an excuse to leave the world behind in return for the sweet stupor and escape… She was no fool to try and convince anyone that even though the gold left her hands no sooner had they entered them, that it was for a worthy cause.

Take up the tasks no others dare.

Another glance down to the red chainmail.

And when no others dared, nor did the woman herself dare- so least not out of any sense of duty or justice or good. Why travel alone to a place where she may be struck down at any moment? Why test them, why ask questions, why learn?

He wouldn’t release her to allow her to die.

Testing that was not out of bravery.

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

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Re: Reena - Drunk and Useless

Post by Eira » Wed Jan 30, 2019 8:59 am

The sibilant words spilled from the woman's lips as she called, voice rising almost in song as the unfamiliar words left her and- as she imagined, between the very planes of existence. She knew them, of course, the knowledge had been driven deep into her skull, even as other memories had been ripped asunder.

Whoever her patron was, whoever had laid claim to that constantly shifting name that felt like barbs on her tongue when she tried to speak and made her nails bloody if she attempted to write it- The darkness had torn apart her very being. Calling upon demons was as simple letting out a breath. With hardly a twitch of her fingers, fire rippled from her, ice, dark energy, the purest magic- so much knowledge, so much power, but who carried it? Who was she without the beauty in her life from before?

Days of voice in song, of feet moving in dance, a past life where words flowed from her lips in passion and joy and inspiration rather than fear, those were gone now. The woman could still call up the onslaught of words, words, words but they were for survival.

Talk fast enough, perhaps they will let you live long enough to find a way out.

Talk fast enough, they may get bored and leave you be.

Talk fast enough, something will stick.

Talk fast enough, perhaps you will get into a different sort of trouble- but it's different, it's new, it's better.

Talk fast enough.

Talk fast.

What use are you without your words?

She woke gasping near every night, hands scrambling for her face, feeling for the barbs stitching her lips together, blood crusted in her eyes, tongue slit and throat wrenched. The darkness knew. It watched. It sent more torments than letters now- not a warning, but a lesson.

She was still useful to it.

She had to be.

And even as she begged for aid, begged for a reason to continue- Even as she knew she was not alone, that she could be free from its grasp, the longing continued. The memories of those sweet words, those promises, still lingered. The whispers in her back of her mind only fueled her conviction... but she could not tell what for.

Struggle and writhe and rage.

Prove you are worthy of these gifts.

Struggle, and feed my amusement.

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

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Re: Reena - Drunk and Useless

Post by Eira » Sun Feb 03, 2019 1:22 am

The difference, is that I won't let you steal my heart.

I think of you as a friend too.

If a stranger begged your aid- would you help them?

I'm starting to think that he was right about you.

Persevere in the face of pain.

Please, you can talk to me about anything.

I do love you. I think it is what I feel.

Would you like to stretch this man out on an altar and carve him open as a sacrifice to the Abyss?

You are burdened with so much... let me take some of your burden.

"There were twa sisters sat inna bower, Binnorie, O' Binnorie."

The kneeling woman whispered the opening lines of the ballad, a paltry attempt to drown out the mocking whispers swirling around in her mind. Her voice remained stilted, any attempt to break into song firmly quashed as she jarred out the words. She could hardly hear her own words now, the whispers overlaying on each other, overpowering, drowning, consuming, controlling-

"There cae a knight ta be their wooer, by-"

Reena retched, the overwhelming gush of blood pouring from her throat. Her palms slammed down into the soft earth in front of her, blood mixing with dirt to splash a gory mess across her hands and arms. She raised her face, eyes seeking the sky as she continued speaking, spitting as she did so.

"-th' bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie."

Scarlet dribbled from her lips as the woman fell forward, gasping and coughing. A burning dagger point sliced in just behind her eye, and she half-sobbed, clutching for the wound, but finding only unblemished skin. The dagger twisted, and her spine arched with it, eyes closed, writhing in the dirt and blood. Her next words were a ragged gasp as she forced her hands away from the searing in her skull.

"He courted th' eldes' wit' glove'n ring-"

The pain abruptly faded, leaving the woman panting in the filth and gore. Defiantly, she choked out the next words.

"Binnorie, O' Binnorie."

The whispers fell silent.

A moment passed.

Another.

One more.

Reena dared to raise her face from the muck. She felt her armor keenly, each barb on the interior of the chain digging hungrily into her flesh the more she moved. Pushing herself up from the ground, the woman returned to her kneel, raising her chin to finally open her eyes again and gaze at the sky.

Nothing.

She stretched her eyes wide, desperation forcing a whimper to escape her throat.

No. No. Please, no.

Anything except darkness.

But the darkness remained.

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

Discord: eighra


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Re: Reena - Drunk and Useless

Post by Eira » Fri Feb 08, 2019 8:54 am

"How dare ye!"

The scream ripped from her throat as the woman flung the bottle from the top of the falls. It arced through the air, twisting and spinning to land with an unbroken plop in the water below. The bottle bobbed gently in the river and along the banks, floating towards the lake.

With a strangled cry, Reena dropped to the ground, knees drawn up against her chest and arms wrapped tight. Everything she wished to say or yell or sob was caught- stuck in her throat too firmly to choke out.

It had to be a lie.

If he, if all people was corrupted, fallen, whatever the word for it, disgraced- If he, the one who had so firmly believed in her evil, turned out to be the same, what did that mean?

"I'm sorra," she finally whispered out, directed to the falls and the river below. "I didn' wanna, please let them be wrong."

And until she could confirm her fears...

The woman rose suddenly, scrambling forward to slide down the rocky slope next to the waterfall. She hit the ground hard, gravel and rocks stinging her palms and sticking as she rose once more to run along the river. She could see it now, still idly floating in a vision of peace to counter her mad dash.

Reena splashed her way into the river, fighting through the water and mud to desperately cling to the bottle. It fit familiarly in her grasp as she yanked the cork out and placed the bottle to her lips. The chill of the water surrounded her, threatening to deaden her senses for good, and the woman almost let go.

It would be over.

Numb the mind, numb the body, let Him do what He willed with her corpse, for she could linger in fugue forever and be free.

The woman tilted the bottle and drank.

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

Discord: eighra


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Re: Reena - Drunk and Useless

Post by Eira » Tue Feb 19, 2019 10:16 am

Crashing through the bushes, sword held defensively in front of her and every breath tighter than the one before, the woman ran. Every stab into her side, her chest, her neck, every barb of the chain, was another reminder to run, run, run until she could no more. Run for life, for freedom.

“If’n they catch ya,” she reminded herself, voice whooshing out in ragged gasps, “they’ll kill ya.”

Ahead of her, the lanky, yet still gnarled, figure of the vrock surged forward, a claw raking at trees before them, clearing a path. It almost staggered, as soaked in blood as it was. Its other arm hung, broken and useless beside it, but the demon, spurred by its on will and the woman’s fear, continued on.

She risked a glance back, but through the thick trees, she saw nothing. Heard nothing, but her own panicked breath and armor rattling with each step.

Gaze turning forward again, the woman dared to slow as the vrock burst from the tree line, stumbling out into an open field. She could see it just ahead, the dark towers of- hells, of all places to call safety, this could not be it, but it had to be. She emerged from the trees, turning as she ran to point at the forest they had just escaped.

“Confuse them’n break them,” she chanted steadily, hand waving in a facsimile of some arcane gesture. “Let them stumble about’n let them lose their way.”

A magical darkness settled about the trail- it wouldn’t hold for long, but off the beaten path as it were, perhaps they would run into a tree or trip over a root or log before the spell was lifted. Sparing another daring glance to the patch of shadow, the woman shook her head, looking back towards the dark building ahead of her.

They wouldn’t be able to follow her inside- that would require a lie that the most stalwart and pure-hearted of knights would be unable to utter, if they even suspected that might be where she took refuge.

Clambering up onto a rock, the woman choked briefly, feeling the all-too-familiar grip like a noose around her neck. Her eyes widened, and she dropped to her knees, hands flying to pull desperately at the neck of her armor, to grasp at whatever held her there.

She felt nothing but empty air, as the grip tightened, crushing and burning her throat.

A scream was strangled before she could let it go, and the woman looked up to see the vrock looming above her, its one good claw poised to strike at her sudden weakness. With another breath she dared to draw, she thrust her sword into the demon’s chest, crushing and twisting at the grey flesh. The vrock screeched, the sound fading in a burst of magical energy as it was forced back across planes.

She pulled in another breath, wheezing and gasping as she fought to stand and stumbled her way towards the door. There was no handle, no visible way inside but for the thick dark metal links that could raise it- for a price.

A gauntleted fist raised to pound on the door, and the woman tried to scream again, her vision starting to go hazy and dark at the edges. Her hand planted on wrought iron was all that kept her standing as she forced another breath past the fiery hold upon her neck.

She knew they would be almost upon her, and like this, there was nothing she could do to stop them.

Another pound on the door.

Oh, Ilmater, forgive me.

“Praise… Bane!” The woman managed to gasp the words out, or she imagined she did, but either way, it was enough for the door. The chain grated slowly as the door lifted, almost too slowly as she turned to see a bright light emanating from the forest behind her. Ducking down, and nearly fainting as she did so, the woman half-crawled inside, her strength barely enough to pull her sword with her.

As soon as she was inside, the door slammed down once more, leaving her gasping and cursing on the even flagstones of the floor.
Her vision cleared, the burning having been cut off as soon as she first touched the interior of the church.

Hide from one evil in the midst of another.

“Oh, Ilmater,” the woman whispered, not daring to rise from her pathetic sprawl on the floor. “Wha’ave I done?”
Last edited by Eira on Mon Feb 25, 2019 7:23 am, edited 1 time in total.

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

Discord: eighra


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Re: Reena - Drunk and Useless

Post by Eira » Mon Feb 25, 2019 7:22 am

An almost-empty keg.

Two glasses.

A woman, alone.

Reena sat there in the corner, staring at her full cup of liqueur as her hand twitched forward to reach for the drink. Hesitation overtook the thirst at the last moment, and she clenched a fist, raking her hand back against the coarse grain of the table. She had to wait. It was polite, of course. More than polite, it was right to do.

But that full glass stood there, taunting her. And what difference could it make?

Afore, I di'innae 'ad ta drink hardla nuthin' afore I'd be sloshed.

It was harder now.

For every sip, she had to follow it with two more to even begin to feel the effects, and now, waiting for him to return, she could feel her mind threatening to return completely, to throw off the stupor she so desperately sought.

A breath hissed out through her teeth, and the woman grabbed for her cup, lifting it and drinking deeply. It did not lower for some time, though when it did, she reached for the keg to fill it again.

"Polit'ness kin be damned," she muttered before taking another frantic gulp. "Sa kin alla't."

Ain' nae use ta bein' sober, cept fer bein' vulnerable.

She could only bitterly laugh when thinking about that mage and his words. Her being drunk was when she wasn't dangerous. He had less control then- or so she hoped. The last thing anyone needed to worry about, was some drunken sot in the corner. That was as it should be.

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

Discord: eighra


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Re: Reena - Drunk and Useless

Post by Eira » Tue Feb 26, 2019 7:00 am

The clang of the jail door echoed throughout the stone room, and the woman envisioned for a moment, the rocks falling from the ceiling to crush and bury her. Perhaps that might be preferable to pacing here, waiting for their whims to release her, for whatever answers he got to be to his liking. As soon as that man had appeared again, face revealed, she had known.

It didn’t go well.

Was there even a chance of that? With tensions between the Triad and the city as strained as they were-

Remember? Nothing but a well-disguised demon.

The woman groaned as the words swirled around her, carried by a tongue of flame that lashed around her chest, her neck, searing across her face.

If you did not force punishment, you would not be this weak.

“Shut yer deceitful whispers!” she cried out, an open fist soaring to thud into the bars of the cell. “Nonna this is free fra yer meddlin’!”

Why had he followed her in the first place? Had she truly been so foolish as to let her guard drop? What even brought the suspicion?

She hadn’t cared for at least a year. Those first tendays of watching over her shoulder, of guarding every breath, tracking those around her- Those were long gone. And for what? A moment’s weakness, a moment’s giving in to the aid of a disgusting creature, a moment that could have destroyed everything.

Did destroy everything.

A broken sob escaped the woman, and she stumbled forward blindly, reaching for the chair at the center of the cell, to fall into it. This wouldn’t be a place for her anymore. Without- without any home, without the temple, without her family, without him, where would she go? Below? To be with them?

A day ago, that thought had seemed impossible.

You can truly be free with them.

She let out a strangled gasp, eyes burning, and flames caressing her hands and arms, almost playfully ripping into the golden tattoos swirling up to her shoulders.

Is it not tempting to walk without fear?

It was.

“I love this city,” the woman whispered, her anger leaving her. She slumped forward, rubbing desperately at her eyes. “I really do, I love th’ people an’ th’ place, an’ e’erythin’ ‘bouttit.”

And when the city hates you?

She couldn’t bring herself to hate it back.

“…I deserv’it.”

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

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Re: Reena - Drunk and Useless

Post by Eira » Fri Mar 01, 2019 8:35 am

I know you blame yourself, you always do.

He knew her so well.

Reena stood at the bow of the ship, staring across the choppy sea. So much had happened in a tenday, and to try and convince herself that she was devoid of blame would be foolish. Was it bound to happen? Maybe. Judging only by the fact that she was not even exiled, she wasn't the important one.

It was a show. An example. Her mistake was only a tool to bring down others, and the mistakes of others for supporting her...

"They shoulda cast me out years afore," she muttered, blinking away the pricking in her eyes. "I shoulda told 'im ta name me ta th' law, I shoulda let 'im kill me."

It was no wonder she could no longer feel Ilmater at her side.

"E'erythin' I done were outta bein' selfish."

The priestess's words had struck a deeper chord in Reena than she liked. What use was her suffering? Her penitence? What use if she didn't learn or change. Every day, she could feel the call for stronger and stronger magic tugging at her.

I know that's why he took it away. I know that's why he made me weak. I should be able to ignore it, but hells I miss it. I miss being strong. I miss the power and the freedom.

He was winning and she was... a failure.

The woman shuddered as the faintest touch of snow settled upon her bare shoulders. She had hardly noticed the growing cold until now, and another shiver wracked her frame. Turning, Reena stepped across the deck, reached for her cloak as it lay neatly folded.

And she stopped, staring at the golden tattoos that swirled and spiraled up her arm. The burnt scarring was nearly faded now, magical healing taking its toll as it removed any sign of the fires that had lashed out at her. A curse and a blessing to forget the pain and fear and to remain unmarked after so many years of remaining bound.

Her hand closed around the cloak finally, and Reena pulled it up and over her shoulders.

Skaljaard.

She had heard so many horrors of the island and village, it only seemed fitting to take refuge there. Among such evil and chaos, would anyone take notice of one more? Stay far away, from where she could not bring any more pain upon those she loved.

They deserved to be free of her.

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

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Re: Reena - Drunk and Useless

Post by Eira » Sun Mar 03, 2019 10:40 pm

The demon-cursed words fell from her lips in a thoughtless rush, and the woman stopped dead as the drow turned towards her, his halting words in the common tongue stilled for the moment. The moment stretched on for ages, almost eons it seemed, before he replied, his surprise clearly showing in a new twist of tone. He was intrigued, and had plainly said as such, and the woman wasn't quite sure if this would be their saving grace or doom them further.

Behind her, the whispers of her companions rose and fell. Questioning her. Planning. Worrying. Wondering. The woman's heart thud strongly in her chest, though she dared not clutch at it. Even if the others in the room could not hear the drumbeat of her terror, that action surely would damn her. Show no weakness.

I am but a vassal of the Dark Prince.

Would his title be enough to give her some worth? At the ghour stalking forward and the glabrezu shifting in its circle... the woman let out a long sibilant demonic hiss that she was not even sure could stall them. But the drow snapped to them as well, and his words carried more weight than hers.

More tense whispers behind her, but she ignored them.

Taking her eyes off the drow, as battered as the remnants of the failed raid were, would be more foolish than anything she had done before. And so she continued to speak, prodding, negotiating, attempting to seem as if she weren't only bluffing, and gaze searching the drow to see if he was doing the same. Their wards were running thin. Time was passing quickly.

The oath. When she mentioned it, something in his eyes had changed, and the woman could not tell if it was for better or worse, as much as she had stared into the crimson of his gaze. But he had agreed readily enough, and it was enough of a bond that those behind her would be at ease letting the group go.

When at last the words seemed right in her mind and she delivered the oath to the drow, the words from behind her, the disagreement, the want for the Abyssal to be translated, nearly ended her tenuous courage. They would never agree to it- And if the drow revealed the deal, they would have an easier time of splitting the group apart.

And so the bluffing continued.

Abyssal ain' always easy ta translate ta common, there's some words tha' don' have an alternate meaning.

It was accepted for now, but as time trickled onward, the woman could feel their trust in her waning. She hurried her words, attempting to hurry them out of the room, onward, forward, away, hurry th' hells up, or I'll hurry ya meself. But she couldn't say that, couldn't let the drow see through her mask.

One.

Two.

Three others out the door, and she backed away from the drow, hesitating at the last second, looking to the dead bodies beyond.

Lass, don't do it.

Ya need ta be able ta afford drink an' food fer yerself.

She reached up into her pack, slowly, carefully, taking out the wyrdstone to set it down. A life restored in the form of a simple rock, in return for the four lives that the drow had allowed to back out of there today.

That was th' last o' yer gold, ta let a murderin' dark elf be resurrected.

At the drow's spell for haste, and the implied meaning, after a final exchange of words, she backed out the rest of the way and turned to bolt for the tunnels, the three others around her. It did not matter what they were. Who they were.

Heal the sick, the wounded, and the diseased.

If Ilmater wished for her to be picky about who to aid, he could come down and tell her himself.

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

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Re: Reena - Drunk and Useless

Post by Eira » Wed Mar 06, 2019 9:01 am

Dearest Lionel,

I know you would be angry with me for leaving without saying so. I could give all the reasons why, but we both know at the core of it, I was scared. I am scared. Even with Caradoc whisking me away to a place so foreboding we both thought I'd be far away from the consequences of my mistakes- even so, I was found laughably easy.

We both know the man from afar, but to actually speak to


The woman hesitated in her writing, quill poised above the parchment. A droplet of ink grew and fell, splattering over her words. With a sigh, she drew a line through the attempt at a sentence.

We both know the man from afar, but to actually speak to

No matter. It would only worry you further, and being cornered by a wizard is the least of my worries. Caradoc is as loyal a watchdog as coin could buy, even if that was a contract of his own creation. As much as he is a mercenary, I'm in part wondering if the coin was only an excuse for him to keep an eye, his only eye, on me. What would he have done had I refused, I wonder?

I do not doubt he could have tossed me over his shoulder and taken my coin anyway. He is determined to turn me into some sort of warrior, and my status in Cordor only made it easier for me to focus on training. And between running ragged into battle and drowning the pain with spirits, I can hardly hear Gr


Another pause. Letting out a short sigh, she crossed out the last two letters.

I can hardly hear Gr the Dark Prince's whispers.

A new demon appears before me when I am in danger. My research named it quasit, and I first saw it on the ship when we were attacked by pirates. At the time, I would have dismissed it, had even Caradoc not been sorely pressed by the battle. Since then, with the help of your wand, when it appears, my dire bears feast upon demon flesh. With hardly time to see naught but the jaws of death, these creatures have nothing to report to their master.

Is it not ironic? My failure to conceal myself in Cordor and inadvertently turning into the catalyst for the exile of Ser Ecthelion and Rivis, as against my earliest orders as that could be, are what have cursed me with His approval once more. Truly, what the Dark Prince desires is known to him and him alone, and I fear that even my attempts to lash out against him further ensnare me in his grasp. As a mouse can hardly fathom the mind of a tiger, but as the promise of certain doom, I cannot even dare to try and understand.

And as for the drow.

You know of my forays into the Underdark, and those long months sitting and listening and learning. Those are all that kept me alive, in my latest ventures. I sought to help defend the


Her teeth grit audibly, and she scored the parchment again, the sharp point of her quill slicing through the words.

And as for the drow.

You know of my forays into the Underdark, and those long months sitting and listening and learning. Those are all that kept me alive, in my latest ventures. I sought to help defend the


The important thing is that I am alive. I am alright. And while I will not tell you where I went, as it would be best for you to stay far, far, from me and the curse I bear, I do intend to contact you as often as I may. I love you, as much as this selfish scarred heart can allow. And all I do to keep us apart is to keep you safe. From me. And me safe from me. I don't want us to end up like others before us. I don't want to be like them.

With love,
Reena


As her quill stilled, the woman stared at her writing, reading and rereading and again once more. A glance to the side, to the fire in the distance, and she stood, swiping the parchment from the table in a flowing movement. The parchment crunched in protest as she crumpled it up into a ball, hurling the letter into the flame. She couldn't. Not now. Not ever.

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

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Re: Reena - Drunk and Useless

Post by Eira » Sat Mar 09, 2019 8:29 pm

“Ma!” a little girl called, sprinting through the fields and stumbling over the frozen earth. “MA!” Her red hair had fallen free of its braid, trailing across her shoulders and out behind her as she ran. Her chest heaving underneath her sturdy cloak, she slowed as their little cottage, the first of many that made up the village, came into sight. “Ma!”

An older woman looked up from the fire she was tending outside the door of the cottage, her eyebrows drawn together in concern. She stood, dropping a wooden ladle into the pot of stew that had been bubbling there for near half the day. Almost immediately, a red-haired boy sat down in place to continue stirring. But the woman hardly noticed him, eyes only for her daughter.

“Reena?” she called out, rushing towards the little girl. “Wha’s goin’ on then, sa?”

“Ma,” the girl came to a halt, her breath whooshing out of her in rushed gasps, “Ma, I- I kinnae fin’ Mert naewhere! E’ ran off inna th’ woods an’ di’in say where ‘e were goin’ or ‘ow long e’d be gone, an’ I jus’-” She broke off, half-sobbing.

“Aw, com’ere luv,” the woman said, pulling the girl to her in an embrace. “Mert’ll be fine, aye? Issa jus’ his tenth winter, now innit?”

The girl’s sobs trailed off and she sniffed a bit, looking up to her mother dolefully. “Aye, it is… wha’s tha’ mean?”

“Well, ya see,” her mother settled back to sit, Reena on her lap. “When a lil child o’ th’ forest gets old nuff, sometimes they tend ta… become more like animals, ya see? Mert’s jus’ gonna sleep fer a couple months, mebe wake ta hunt or get food or somethin’. Hibernation, they calls it. Bears do it sa well.”

The girl sniffed more at that. “Is… is Mert gonna turn inta’a bear?”

“Aw, nae, nae, lest Silvanas grants ‘im th’ favor ta, but tha’ wouldn’ be fer nae many years. It ain’ somethin’ sa common like tha’.”

“But Pa kin do it.”

“Aye, yer Pa kin.”

“But Pa don’ hiber- hib-” a pause, as the girl struggled, “-hibranate.”

Her mother gave a low chuckle, ruffling Reena’s hair. “Nae, he don’. Yer Pa is far from th’ days when ‘e were young nuff ta run ‘bout nekkid inna th’ woods like th’ animals ‘e speaks ta. But nae worry, luv. Yer Pa will keep’n eye on yer brother, sa? Bring’m food’n make sure e’s snug nuff inna his hideyhole.”

“Kin I bring Mert food ta?”

“If’n ya ask yer Pa real nice, mebe.”

“Ya think I’ll ever hibranate ta?”

The woman shook her head slowly, giving the girl a soft smile. “Aw nae, lass, th’ Broken Man ‘as other plans fer ya. I don’ see ya conversin’ wit’ th’ farm animals now, do I?”

Reena let out a little sigh. “Nae… I dinnae ‘ow ta. Danny does it ta, ‘e says I jus’ ain’ listenin’ hard nuff.” Her lower lip stuck out, and she sniffed again.

“Aye, but,” her mother’s tone turned wry. “Ya don’ see Mert or Danny singin’ sweet nuff ta make yer granpappy cry now, do ya?”

Her pout faded away into a grin and giggle, and the girl leaned close to her mother, cheek resting on the older woman’s shoulder. “I do like singin’, Ma. I realla do.”

“Then ya better get ready ta sing afore dinner tanight, sa?” She lifted Reena, setting the little girl down to stand, before rising herself. “Issa yer new cousin’s name day, it is. An’ nuthin’ fit fer a Welkins name day than a song fra our favorite lil lass, aye?” With a ruffle of her daughter’s hair, the woman turned to stride back towards her stew.

Reena followed, a new skip in her step and shine in her eye.


And Reena woke then, blinking blearily in the shine of a fire not-yet-doused. Another blink, and the woman realized she was fully clothed and armored. A hand moved, scrabbling against the blade of a bastard sword that had been her pillow- just barely cushioned by her cloak. Lifting her head and giving a third blink, the world spun about the woman, and she groaned, feeling her stomach churn violently. She refused to drop her head once more, and Reena attempted to get to her knees.

Her hand bumped against a bottle, and it tipped, clattering onto the floor with a sharp sound that sent a wince shuddering its way up the woman’s spine. The wince came again as she noted the now-quiet glugging of spirits emptying onto the wooden planks of the room. Her hand moved once again to sluggishly attempt to pick it up. And yet all she felt was the smooth grain of the floor. She closed her eyes hard, breathing out for a few moments before risking opening them again. This time, her attempt to pick up the bottle was successful, and she tilted it upright, unnoticing of the fact that all the liquid had already drained from the vessel.

“Whaddya thinkin’,” she muttered softly, sitting back on her heels and lifting bloodshot eyes to stare at the wall, “dreamin’ o’ th’ past like tha?”

The wall, predictably, didn’t answer.

Reena looked down once more, silently counting all the bottles set around her. Some had fallen. Others were still standing. None were full. Giving a scoff, she struggled to her feet, an action that took a rather shameful amount of time to fulfill. But she was up eventually, hand set firmly against the wall and staggering forward for the door. The darkness outside the window marked it as… not time to be awake yet. If she could find enough coin for another bottle, she could help the slumber along, at least.

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

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Re: Reena - Drunk and Useless

Post by Eira » Mon Mar 11, 2019 6:14 pm

“This ‘as ta be a dream,” the woman muttered even before she opened her eyes. “I know tha’ smell, an it ain’t aroun’ on Skal.”

The smell of rose drifted around her, a thick cloying scent that caught in her throat and built a threatening tingle in her nose. She fought the urge to rub at her face and eyes before finally giving in, moving a hand to swipe at her nose. But more importantly, from underneath the rose, there was something more.

“Robin, oh my darling Robin,” Reena murmured, her eyelids flickering. “Realla? Rose an’ honey, it kinnae be nae other-”

The words cut off as she finally opened her eyes, confusion falling over her face.

The room was empty.

The scent remained however, and the woman turned slowly in a circle, wary eyes trailing over the smooth wooden planks and the embers of a fire that had almost died out. A deep breath, and she took a step forward, following the rose with its underlying tinge of honey, both so sweet and overpowering.

“Robin, Robin, lovely dearest Robin,” she called, moving past the door and peering down the darkened hallway, “Why d’ya gotta lead me onna chase like this? I ran an’ wooed ye afore an’ I kin do sa again!”

There was a long silence, and Reena stepped out further into the hallway.

“Kin ya sing fer me sa least? Gi’me a clue, luv!”

Drifting down the hallway came the first few notes of a song, carried by a voice so sweet that the woman gasped as the pain of longing gripped her heart.

“As I walked out on a midsummer's morning, for to view the fields and to take the air…”

Her own voice lifted, wavering and raspy from disuse, but matching the notes even so. “Down by th’ bank o’ th’ sweet primroses, there I beheld a mos’ love lie fair…”

“Three short steps, I stepped up to her-” Reena could imagine a smile in the face of the distant singer now. “-not knowing her as she passed me by…”

She started walking again, swiftly following the direction of the melody as she sang out a reply, “I steppt up ta her, thinkin’ fer ta view her, she appeared ta be like some virtuous bride...”

Tears in her eyes now, the woman turned a corner and another, her pace quickening as the tug in her heart pulled her right to where she needed to go. The woman could easily see past the shadows in the hall, though no light was present, no spell over her eyes to make them keen. No more song came from the distant singer, but the scent, the powerful rose and the oh-so-sweet honey, grew stronger and stronger until she could hardly breathe past the intoxicating-

Reena halted.

A door lay before her, the wrought iron and rust suddenly so unfitting in the smooth wood planks of the longhouse, only it wasn’t exactly the longhouse anymore. Longhouse, lodge, whatever they called it, the crumbling bricks and dripping lichen were out of place. She turned back, looking down the hall, but saw only the bricks and flagstone floor.

From behind the door, the voice sounded again. “So I'll go down to some lonesome valley, where no man on earth shall there me find…”

Reena turned back around slowly, approaching the door. “That ainna th’ next line, luv,” she said softly, placing a palm flat on the metal. But letting out a breath, her voice found the song once more. “Where th’ pretty lil small birds do change their voices-”

Silence, as the final words of the line clenched and coiled in her throat as she didn’t allow herself to release them.

The pretty little small birds do change their voices.

They sure do.

The woman pushed open the door, hearing not the raucous shriek of hinges as she had expected, but a quiet hiss as the room beyond was revealed. And she stepped into a jail cell, knowing even without looking behind her, that there would be no door at her back anymore.

Halfway across the room, leaning up against the bars of the cell, was a guard. A Cordor guard, to be accurate. The Cordor guard, to be exact. She still hadn’t caught his name, which was probably for the best. Better to not let any hint of anyone else be drifting around her mind, lest they-

The guard gave a sardonic smile, so out of place on that face, that the woman recoiled. The expression remained in place as the face itself shifted, and the woman was once again staring at the wizard, feeling almost as vulnerable as when he- the real one, had approached her in the longhouse.

“Where is Robin?” she growled, striding forward, fists clenched in gauntlets that were so suddenly over her hands. Had she been wearing armor before? “Wha’ve ya done ta her?!”

The man before her gave no change of expression, merely lifted his hands to steeple his fingers together in a slow and deliberate movement.

His twelve fingers.

Reena stopped as abruptly as if she had hit a wall.

“Really,” the figure spoke, his face changing again, “I must ask; what is the purpose of your suffering?”

The voice and the face were right, though the words were off, but the woman did not care as she glared venomously at the priestess.

“Where is Robin?” her voice snapped forth once more. “Or were she never here?”

“Ahh,” the teeth parted in a breathy hiss as the face shifted once more, now becoming the paladin. “You are starting to understand. I worried for a moment, there.”

“Hells,” the woman moved as if to stalk forward again, but gave a disgusted huff, turning away. “Are ya e’en him or are ya jus’ a serven’ ta pretend ta be him?”

That elicited a low chuckle. “Yes.”

“I ain’ importan’ nuff ta ‘ave his Princeliness himself waltzin aroun’ inna me dreams, most like.”

“Why would you think that?”


“Let me outta here.”

You wish to make a deal, do you not? A bargain. To barter.”

She looked up then, seeking his eyes and finding the tattooed face of the priest staring down at her. Reena’s jaw clenched, but she refused to look away.

“I ne’er said that.”

“Wishes are not always in words.”

“Sa wha’ are ya gonna be fore’er in me mind or summat? Pullin’ stray wants ta fit yer purposes?”

“You would prefer if I lied, would you not?”

She couldn’t answer that, instead looking around for a chair and finding one at her side like it had been there the whole time. Giving a hard look to the priest-who-was-not-a-priest, Reena sat.

“Sa whaddya think I want, if’n ya kin hear me silent wishes?”

“Would you not rather say it yourself?”

“Ya kinnae keep sayin’ things like they’re questions fer me ta answer!” she snapped, her eyes flickering away again. When her gaze returned, she regretted looking away in that instant as the new face peered down at her, hair mussed and beautiful, something sad in his eyes.

“Stop it.”

“I do rather enjoy this one.”

“He ain’t part o’ this.”

“I think I might stay like this.”

“Vallechkjasai fiend, choose another!” The woman was standing now, breath huffing out of her in short gasps after her shout.

The lips curved up in a sly smile. “Is that the deal you want?”

“I don’t wan’ a deal.” The words escaped her quickly, too quickly for even herself to believe them, and Reena growled under her breath, sitting heavily in the chair once more. “Kin I jus’ drink against ya again an’ get outta this?”

“Ahh, a fascinating thought, but you tried that before. Besides, it was never part of the original deal.”
The figure pouted, raising his wrists to show a red cord binding them together. “My hands are tied.”

Her next words rasped harshly as she leaned forward, curling over herself. “How kin I e’en know what was inna th’ original deal if I kinnae remember it?”

There was a long pause, and Reena looked up once again, seeing a wider grin crossing the thieved face of the man she loved. She let out a shuddering breath.

“Would you like to?”

“Why all this?” she asked suddenly, waving a hand at the jail cell. “Why’d it all change? Ya used ta jus’ send th’ letters an’ th’ messengers, sa what happened ta make it different?”

The smile faded almost imperceptibly, and Reena’s eyes narrowed as she noted the movement. There was no answer from the demon.

“Why d’ya wan’ ano’er deal so badly?”

At that, the smile strengthened once more, and the woman spat a muttered curse.

“I said I was here for the bargain you wished to make, did I not?”

Her narrowed eyes remained on the man’s face as it shifted once more, coarse red hair replacing blonde.

“Hells.”

“It is admirable how the bonds of family are so strong. I do believe they actually learned more than you about the…” the sly grin seemed so out of place on her cousin’s face, “…details of our night together.”

She groaned. “Vallechkjasai! I know it ain’ be like that.”

A hand raised to cover his mouth, paired with a look of mock concern. “Oh my, what language from one so concerned with scandal.”

“Ya don’ give a pikin’ concern about any o’ that.”

“You were so much more pleasant when we first met, Reena.” She shuddered at the sound of her name crossing his lips. “Not as angry… not as coarse. You even smiled.”

“Fine!” The woman rose again, stalking towards him, anger alight in her eyes. “Yer right. I wan’ me memory back. I dinnae why ye took it, but I wan’ ta know what ‘appened then. An’ I wan’ ta know why I made this deal, an’ I wan’ ta know what I got in return fer it. An’ I wan’ ta know whether ya really won our… contest, an if’n ya been yankin’ me leash around fer nuthin’ like I feel’s th’ case.”

His eyes met hers easily, the familiar gaze twisted by what shadows she imagined she could see in their depths. “Well,” he drew the word out, “why didn’t you just say so?”

“An’ wha’ do I gotta do in return fer me memories?” she growled, fists clenched once more.

Those lips pursed in a thoughtful repose, gaze moving somewhere far away as the face shifted once more. And the paladin’s likeness returned, those hard eyes now falling on Reena once more in a way she hadn’t felt in months and longer.

“I do believe you’ve done that already, dear one,” he mused, a hand lifting to fall on her shoulder, thumb moving over her neck reminiscently.

Reena froze as she felt the near-grip around her throat.

“I can give you… a taste. For now. The rest will come when you leave your little frozen hideyhole.”

“I cause ‘nuff pain’n chaos’n strife onna th’ island when I’m away, I don’ wanna go back,” she choked out past the fear that clamped down on her.

He smiled once more, an almost kindly understanding expression, as opposite of his nature as the woman had ever seen. His fingers caressed her throat and neck warningly before he drew his hand away to give her a little pat on the cheek. “Then you’ll never know now, will you?”

With his final touch, the woman felt a jolt, eyes opening on a different room.

Reena’s throat was dry, and she blinked hard. Someone was shaking her shoulder, speaking to her. Another blink, and she realized that Robin’s lips were at her ear, the other woman’s excited whisper rising and falling.

“-and there he is now! Talking to Josie!”

Her gaze followed Robin’s outstretched hand, and Reena felt her own smile tugging at her lips as she leaned forward, studying the young man in rich clothing with a retinue of eager townsfolk milling around in the crowded tavern. She looked back to Robin, letting out a rich laugh as she moved forward to give her lover a lingering kiss before pulling away.

“Aw, ya thin’ I kin part him fra his coin, luv?” she reached forward, running her hand through the elf’s dark brown locks, breathing in the curious mix of rose and honey perfume that Robin favored. “I ain’ sang fer a city lad afore.”

“City lad, country lad, he has enough gold to get us far from here if you win.”

“Win,” Reena repeated, her lips quirking. “I ain’ ne’er been inna singin’ contest afore either. Whassat e’en like?”

“Vallechkjasai, dearest. Does it matter?” Robin swore in elvish, as was her habit, and caught up Reena’s hands, leaning forward. “Cozy up to him tonight, and tomorrow, it should be easy as anything to win.”

“But,” the red-haired woman said, pulling the elf closer teasingly, “I’d rather spend th’ night cozying up ta yer sweet self.”

“Vallechkjasai,” Robin said again, her smile fading. “We need you to win to leave. You can’t expect to travel on coin when you drink away what you make each night!”

“I ha’e me dowry,” Reena’s chin rose, and she let go of Robin’s hands. “Phillip returnt it ta me when I broke th’ engagement. Were on me way home ta give’t ta me Ma.”

Robin’s eyes softened. “That’s a start. But after tomorrow- we can really go. Really leave. I have so much I want to show you, Reena.”

“An’ there’s sa much I wan’ ta see wit’ ya, pretty lil bird. All I wish fer is tha’ we don’ e’er haveta worry about money or danger or any o’ tha’ e’er again.”

“After tomorrow,” Robin placed her hands on Reena’s shoulders, turning her around to face the rich young man in the corner. “We won’t have to.”

With a final push forward, the red-haired woman moved through the crowd, squeezing up past the bar to order two tankards. One of a particularly strong liqueur, and the other, for her, watered-down ale. The drinks were set down, and with a flash of coin changing hands, Reena reached for the tankards-

-only to find that someone’s hand was already over the liqueur. Her eyes moved over the six-fingered hand, trailing up a dusky arm to pass over long raven locks, to finally meet the gaze of an unearthly beautiful woman. The woman gave Reena an utterly perfect smile, and the young bard found her cheeks aflame, as any intelligent words died in her throat.

“…Golly.”

“Is this one for me?” the woman asked, and Reena found herself nodding mutely, watching the paragon of beauty before her, daintily raise the tankard to take a sip.

“…Golly…” she said again.

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

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Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

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Re: Reena - Drunk and Useless

Post by Eira » Sun Mar 17, 2019 6:16 pm

“You lost your soul in a drinking game?!”

The old man’s words sounded as incredulous as Reena had felt that fateful day, near three years ago when she first read the letter with which she had woken. And as incredulous as her thoughts were near always, shifting to that fateful turn of events, of which she could still only recall flickers. Her answer to him had been a shrug and her usual dry smile.

Regret could not change what had happened, nor could she fix the mistakes she had made. She merely listened to his own tale, and suggested they move on.

But even so, as they trudged through the snow of the mountaintop, the woman could not help but think of her own reaction. Here, in a place so far from all her woes, no longer were her days spent looking over her shoulder, and back itching with the burning gazes that rested there. And in an expression so out of use, that it almost startled her the first time she did smile openly, without pain or sarcasm.

How long had it been?

She was sure that even then, never failing to wake next to her lover and always with friends by her side, even there, she must have smiled a few times. But looking back, Reena struggled to remember when she could truly say that she was happy, and that her expression and her heart were completely free of her worries.

And even as her bodyguard- her remaining friend, even as he griped and grumbled about returning, asking her when they would go, she found it harder and harder to even entertain the possibility of going back. Lucky enough that their last conversation had been interrupted by others. She didn’t want to admit fully to him that she had no intention of ever going, nor did she want to lie.

Would it be a lie? Her missing memories were still dangled out of reach, and even as she knew it would only serve her patron’s purpose to take the bait, such sweet bait it was. To return home to all she loved, the place she loved, the man she loved, so much love, so much weakness and pain and suffering and misery, not all of it her own, but it was enough.

A single step closer to Arelith, was a single step too much back into all that she hid from. And if they could find her so easily here, what would it be like back under their sway? If they’d even allow that. Perhaps they finally gave up on her, and would banish her below the Surface, as they did everyone else who didn’t fit in their perfect orderly controlled world of hypocrisy and lies-

Reena loosened her jaw, cringing at the scrape of teeth that were grit much too hard together.

She still spoke of herself as the town, or rather, the village drunk, when the truth of the matter was that her time spent sober was slowly overtaking her time spent not. The refuge of drink was no longer a refuge, and no longer needed to be one. As much as she hated to admit it, the regimen she was placed under, an endless cycle of hunting and fighting and killing, was doing its part in clearing her head and making sure there was nothing else she cared for.

Kill enemies. Make coin. Buy bandages and food. Kill more enemies. Continue. And continue. And continue. And continue. On, and on until she hardly realized where she was, until she came to in the middle of the cavern with corpses scattered about her and gore coating her face and arms.

She did not even see the wounded and the diseased around her.

The island was filled with them, and though the first few months she had offered aid, sometimes near begged them to let her help, they all waved it away, laughed it off, or outright refused her healing and care. After enough time, they started to fade away around her. It would have been detrimental to ignore their refusals, everyone had their reasons for bearing pain, as foolish as it may have been in such an environment.

And then the sword, that damned sword. She barely stopped herself from flinging it away like it were a hot coal, when he had presented it to her. Of all the gifts to hand over, a blade named for Loviatar had felt as much like a slap in the face as anything she had ever seen before.

And yet, unable to let go, she carried the sword still, not using it, but knowing that the longer it stayed close to her, the further she fell from the grace of the Broken Man.

Why was it so hard to let go of the thing?

Did she care for the feelings of the one who had created it? Perhaps. Or perhaps she was more afraid that he would laugh at her reasons for refusing it, if not outright disbelieve her. Or, the more terrifying option, she did not want to. That both his and the priestess’ words had truly gotten to her, struck at the very core of her reality, and she was unable to return from that.

Reena could not decide, nor did she want to.

Even now, back in the safety of her room, she stared at the sword in front of her. The inscription was clear, tauntingly so, and her lips moved silently as she read it over and over. Everything against her purpose, her very being. And yet-

No.

Perhaps some parts rang true, as did all well-crafted lies, but if the whole was false and wrong, that did not make a difference. It made no difference.

“I grew fra me pain,” she whispered to the sword, “but I don’ inflict it on others tha’ wouldn’ inflict it on me. An’ doin’ what I kin ta aid others fer nae reason other than that issa th’ right thing ta do, is nae a weakness.”

She had to be right in this, in her path. A solution to the matter of the gift would appear someday, but for now, all that mattered was remaining true to Ilmater and his guidance- or at least to keep listening for guidance that she hoped would appear once more.

Keeping faith was all that mattered, all she could allow herself to do.

The reverse of that was too devastating to bear.

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

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Re: Reena - Drunk and Useless

Post by Eira » Wed Mar 20, 2019 7:00 pm

“Set aside th’ cup,” the woman muttered to herself, as she knelt in the dirt. “Set aside yer greed. Set aside desire.”

She had swept the area free of snow, though the clouds hung low in the sky and hinted at another fall before too long. In front of her rested a bowl, half full of dark red ink. As the woman continued to speak, she dipped a single finger into the ink and drew a line across her wrist and around, connecting the circle.

“Rebuke avarice. Rebuke anger. Rebuke yer fear.”

Palm facing up, she carefully traced the lines of her hand with the ink. And, after repeating the process on her other hand, she sat there with both raised, letting the ink dry in the chill of the air.

“Shoulder yer burden, fer he shares e’en th’ bitterest pain.”

But all conviction of her words had disappeared long before now.

These were the tenets of those purer than she, who had the discipline and the will to live solely for the Broken Man, solely for the good of all. And she, who cared not for rules or laws or bindings by the mistakes and prejudices of others, was ill-fit for such a code.

Set aside the cup?

Far from it. As much as others had tried to help her turn away from the impulsiveness and addiction that drove her to drink, she only spat in the face of their efforts. She never truly wanted help.

Greed. Desire. Avarice.

All words for one thing. The wanting. The craving. The woman could remember her harsh words to the man who had the same open flaws she so refused to see in herself. Same flaws, yes, but in him for some reason, it had been unforgivable, spurring her fury to see someone who had so much more hope and light and a future, ignore those gifts for the sake of mere coin.

Thrice, were their confrontations, and only her last shreds of common sense had halted her actions against him, for not even the righteousness of her anger could forgive the sin of striking a holy warrior. Even one so close to falling on the path of the damned.

Anger. Fear.

Sometimes, it seemed that those were all she had left. Without the anger pushing her forward and the fear holding her back, nothing would remain to keep the last shreds of her purpose intact. Fury guided her. Terror kept her safe. How could anyone manage to live without them?

Shoulder the burden.

And she did so. Sometimes gladly. Sometimes bitterly. But to what end? What purpose was her suffering, when at any moment, she could make it stop? What purpose was her suffering for a god that must surely be slowly turning away, further and further, as every moment passed? Surely, the more these thoughts crossed her mind, the quicker she fell into his shadow. But they were impossible to halt. What purpose was it all? What purpose was any of it? Of all the weapons in the world, the ones of the mind sliced the deepest.

“Do people o’er than priests think this much ‘bout th’ gods?” Reena asked herself wryly, still staring at the inky red marks encircling her wrists. “An’ ta think, I made a terrible fit fer th’ temple when I were a lass, an yet I’m e’en worse off now.”

Her hands twitched to lower, but she stilled them, shaking her head. It was not too late to change. She could be better. Could do better. She just had to make it off this island, go to the temple, and find someone she could trust to tell all her worries and fears and struggles to. And the guidance would come, whether there or through other means.

Faith.

Her mutter rasped in her throat. “I just haveta keep faith.”

* * * * *

“Are ya sure, lass?”

“I ain’ ne’er been sure in me life.”

Why start now?

The wager had been simple enough. He won, and they would go. She won, and they would stay, hiding for longer and longer. No witnesses but the devil and demon that fought by their sides. Reena was almost nervous when she drew her sword to face him.

But with the shroud of darkness covering them, her eyes enhanced by her magic, she could see the toll that her spells took on the warrior. Her heart wasn’t in it. If it were, perhaps she could have won. Been less reckless, let him wear himself out swinging at shadows. But she didn’t want to stay for longer. Not really.

She had taken the final blow purposefully, falling to the floor in defeat. And laying there in a pool of blood… was peaceful.

Idly, the woman mused that it had been a long time since her face was wet with her own blood. She almost didn’t wish to get up, though she couldn’t resist the heavy hand on her armor, lifting her off the ground.

A good fight, it was.

The pair trudged now through the snow towards the portal, and Reena’s thoughts turned to her companion. He had given her a way out, saying they could stay longer after all- but she resisted the temptation. She didn’t want it to be her choice, so she waved away the offer, hiding behind their wager.

From one hiding place to another, was there nothing she could trust herself to be truthful about? And now, pausing before the portal, Reena did not know. She stared into the light, hardly hearing her own words as they discussed where to go next. Her memories were through there.

“Sibayad, then,” she said finally. “I kin use a hot bath fra there.”

A nod from her companion, and she stepped through the portal’s light, feeling the familiar surge of nausea in her stomach as the magic pieced her apart and back together. Stumbling forward, the warlock’s legs gave out, and her knees hit sand.

A moment later, so did the rest of her. Reena’s gaze turned blank as she convulsed silently on the ground, blind and deaf to all but her own memories.

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

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Re: Reena - Drunk and Useless

Post by Eira » Sun Mar 24, 2019 7:30 pm

“After tomorrow,” Robin placed her hands on Reena’s shoulders, turning her around to face the rich young man in the corner. “We won’t have to.”

With a final push forward, the red-haired woman moved through the crowd, squeezing up past the bar to order two tankards. One of a particularly strong liqueur, and the other, for her, watered-down ale. The drinks were set down, and with a flash of coin changing hands, Reena reached for the tankards-

-only to find that someone’s hand was already over the liqueur. Her eyes moved over the six-fingered hand, trailing up a dusky arm to pass over long raven locks, to finally meet the gaze of an unearthly beautiful woman. The woman gave Reena an utterly perfect smile, and the young bard found her cheeks aflame, as any intelligent words died in her throat.

“…Golly.”

“Is this one for me?” the woman asked, and Reena found herself nodding mutely, watching the paragon of beauty before her, daintily raise the tankard to take a sip.

“…Golly…” she said again.


The woman laughed, a bright ringing bell of a sound, and for a moment, Reena could have sworn that nothing else existed in the world. She fumbled for her own tankard taking a hasty gulp of the cheap ale before the taste truly hit her and her nose wrinkled in regret. The woman laughed once more, and the young bard forgot all about the unpleasant ale.

“Sa,” she said, taking another gulp. “Wha’ brings a fine an’ upstandin’ lady like yerself ta a place like this?”

Across the room, with her eyes so fixed upon the beautiful woman, Reena could not see Robin shaking her head in annoyance. The elf turned and disappeared up the stairs. That movement was not missed by the raven-haired woman, though she kept her face turned towards Reena.

“Just passing through,” she said, and gave a faint chuckle like she had just shared an intimate joke with the young bard.

Reena laughed too, though she wasn’t quite sure why.

“Well,” she took another gulp of her ale. “Erh, I’m Reena. Reena Welkins. I dunno if’n ya been through me family’s village, but issa jus’ east o’ here.”

The woman favored her with a smile, and Reena blushed fiercely again. Her reply was smooth, and she matched the young bard’s drink with a sip of her own. “Darra. It is a pleasure.”

“Sure is, heck,” Reena mumbled, draining her tankard and fumbling for the leather pouch at her side to produce a few coins. “Wan’ ano’er drink? My treat, fer a beautiful lady.” She attempted a faltering smile, eyes tracing Darra’s face reverently.

“I have a better idea,” and the woman leaned down a bit, a hint of playfulness entering her tone. “What say we make a little game of it?”

“I, erh, do like games,” she placed the coins on the counter, raising a hand to hail the bartender. “What kinda game?”

“A drinking game,” came the quick reply. “Match me, drink for drink.”

“An’ who’e’er topples ferst, loses,” the bard grinned at that. “Sa wha’s th’ winner get?”

Darra hummed at that, ignoring the bartender who had come up to refill their tankards and whisk away the coins. “Tell me, Reena,” she moved a hand to place it over the red-haired woman’s arm, in a smooth, but surprisingly strong grip. “Of anything in the world, what do you desire most?”

With her free hand, Reena raised her tankard, drinking deeply of the… surprisingly stronger booze. It burned its way down her throat, and her lips quirked. “A life o’ doin’ whatever me heart desires, wit’ th’ mos’ beautiful lass I know at me side an’ plenty o’ coin ta ease our way.” Her head turned as she scanned the crowd for Robin, but her attention shifted back to Darra as the woman’s hand tightened on her arm.

“And if I can give you that?” She raised the tankard to her lips, dark eyes seeming to fix the young bard in place.

Her head shifted, turning to find Robin again, but once more, Darra’s hand moving over hers, drew Reena’s eyes back to the beauty before her. She stammered for a moment, suddenly breathless with longing before blinking and dropping her gaze to the tankard in front of her. “Ya’a wizard or somethin’? I- I mean, tha’s a deal then- I’d drink ta win a life o’ happiness.” A pause. “An if’n yerself wins? Whaddya want fra a sorry lass like meself?” Her lips quirk in self-deprecating amusement.

Darra matched the smile, lifting her own tankard to tap it against Reena’s. “I have a soft spot for sorry lasses like yourself. If I win… I’ll give you what you desire, but I’d need some favors from you first.”

“Lady, if’n ye kin do alla tha’ then ya must be th’ most powerful wizard aroun’,” Reena laughed, holding out a hand for the woman to shake. “Issa deal!”

As Darra took her hand, Reena was surprised to see a red cord snaking around their wrists. But she laughed again at the bit of conjury. Even she could do something like that- sort of.

“And so we are bound,” the beautiful woman said, a silver glimmer washing over the cord and fading. She looked up to Reena again, pulling the red binding away, and giving a playfully wicked grin once more. “Our wager, then!”

Their tankards clashed together in a toast, and the contest began.

Almost an hour later, groaning and retching next to the outside corner of the tavern, Reena sorely regretted the evening’s events, a regret that faded when she felt cool hands pull her damp hair from her forehead and neck. She retched again, heaving and gasping before turning to look up at the still-resplendent figure of Darra.

“Hells, lady,” she spit to the side, wiping at her mouth. “Ya must ‘ave th’ insides o’ a dragon ta drink like ya do!”

She had woken outside, propped up against the wall of the tavern, with Darra sitting next to her. The night was clear and warm, though Reena hardly had time to appreciate it before nausea had overtaken her and she had to rush to rid herself of all she had drank.

“Come,” Darra said now, holding out a hand. “Let us drink more… and discuss our wager and these favors.”

Careful to wipe her grimy hands off on her shirt first, Reena took the offered hand, pulling herself up into a standing stagger. The raven-haired woman led her away from the tavern and towards the woods, and it was only after some time after passing under the trees, that Reena looked around, taking in where they truly were.

“Ya say we drink more,” the young bard said, slowing even as Darra pulled her along, “but th’ tavern’s a ways a way back there.” A jerk of the head back to the village. “An’ there’s sure ta be bears an’ goblinfolk deeper inna th’ forest an’ near ta th’ hills.”

“Are you scared?”

“I see nae reason ta,” Reena blustered, forcing a wry grin. “With a beauty in hand an’ adventure afore me, why’d I be scared?”

“Why indeed,” came the answer that was not quite an answer, and the two women continued onward.

Just before Reena was about to protest at the distance they were going, she noticed light up ahead. Their pace quickened, and the duo pushed past some branches to come out in a clearing surrounding a well-lit building. But for the location, it appeared to be identical to the tavern they had just left behind.

“I… di’in’ know o’ this place afore,” Reena said slowly, more out of a need to break the silence than anything else. “Has’t always been ‘ere?”

Darra turned back to her with slow smile. “No.” And she pulled the young bard towards the door.

“Right,” the red-haired woman said softly as they went inside. “Wizard magicky stuffs.”

The main room of this tavern was much less crowded, though any patrons inside made sure to give Darra, and by extension, Reena, a wide berth as they moved up to the bar. Though they walked swiftly and as she was still respectably drunk, the bard’s searching gaze caught certain peculiarities. A glint of fire in a man’s eye, though his back was to the hearth. Too-sharp teeth grazing the rim of a goblet. Whispered and hissed words in a tongue she did not recognize. A woman’s cheekbone and jaw highlighted with scales. Bony ridges just barely hidden by masses of curly hair.

But before she could dwell on them much further, she was found herself on a stool, sitting next to Darra with tall goblets of wine in front of them. Reena gulped, looking at the drinks, then to her raven-haired companion, and around the tavern once more.

“E’eryone is… dressed all rich-like sorts,” she said slowly. A glance down at her rather drab outfit confirmed that she was an outlier. “I don’ think I kin afford th’ drinks here- issa this some sorta noblemen hideaway? Are ya a real right proper Lady?”

“No need to worry about price when you drink with me,” Darra waved a hand before gesturing to the goblets. “On the house, as you might say.”

“Oh. Oh!” Her eyes lit up and she lifted the wine to her lips, taking a long drink that washed away any foul tastes from her mouth. “I un’erstand na. Sa this is yer place, well, I do feel blessed ta be yer guest, goodness.”

“Blessed by Ilmater perhaps?”

Reena paused at the unexpected mention, but she grinned suddenly. “Might be, might be. I certainly ain’ suff’ren now.” She took another drink.

Something in Darra’s expression twisted. The beautiful woman still smiled, but something more predatory had fallen over her face. She lifted her own goblet, all six fingers curling about the vessel. “But, ah, back to our wager.” A sip. “You lost, and so you owe me favors in return for the life of which you’ve always dreamed.”

“Yup,” Reena leaned one elbow on the bar, turning on her stool to face Darra fully. “Sa whaddya want?”

“This…” the word was almost a hiss. “Is more about what you want, I think. Tell me, Reena, you have a paltry grasp of magic. Would you like more?”

“Well I woul’nae call’t paltry, I mean, I know a lil bit, more’n any ol’ mot ye’d find-” she finds her voice cut off as she meets Darra’s eyes again, and the young bard gulps with a shrug. Though she fights to look away, she can’t seem to. “Well… yes. I kin sing sweet, an’ make pretty lights an’ stupefy any ruffians, but I’d like ta… I dunno, I ain’ smart nuff ta be a wizard an’ I’ll ne’er have th’ touch with nature like me brother, an’ goodness, th’ life o’ a priestess weren’t nae e’er anythin’ but a mistake.” She let out a laugh, even as frozen in place by the dark woman’s gaze.

Darra’s smile softened then, the predatory look disappearing, oddly enough. “You do not seem like the type that fits within the bounds of rigorous training and rules.”

“Oh hells, I certainly ain’ that,” she relaxed, finally tearing her eyes away, and took another gulp of wine. “But Ma always said there ain’ such thing as a shortcut ta power, sa I jus’ gotta be fine wit’ th’ magicky sparkles tha’ I got.”

“Oh, but Reena, Reena,” Darra chided, raising a hand to place underneath the bard’s chin, lifting and turning her face so their eyes met once more. “There is… well, not a shortcut, but a way to borrow power.”

“What?” Her eyes widened. “But why di’in’ anyone say sa afore?! Hells, I coulda been tossin’ fireballs aroun’ ages ago-” A brief pause. “Well, mebe tha’s why they di’in tell me.”

“It is not a widely known method, at least among those unused to the arcane,” Darra drew her hand away, lowering it slowly to rest an arm on the bartop, much like Reena. “And quite risky, for some, but… you don’t seem like the type to shy away from danger, are you?”

“I sure ain’t!” She clacked her empty goblet down on the bartop. “Hells, if’n one o’ yer favors is ta be all magicky, then I ain’ gonna question it!”

“Are you sure?” The dark woman’s smile was thinly-veiled with a look of concern that Reena could not pierce. “I wouldn’t want you to agree to anything that you weren’t altogether certain about… And I could tell you more about it before we-”

“I ain’ no coward! I dinnae care where’t comes fra, who’t comes fra, if’n issa magicks yer off’ren, why woul’n I take’t?”

“Of course… of course,” and the veil drifted away as Darra smiled fully. “I only say, as… it takes a special sort of person to be able to handle this kind deal, but I do truly believe you are special.”

Predictably, Reena’s cheeks reddened once more, and she reached for her goblet that the bartender had just refilled. “Well, golly, I- I mean, I guess, if’n ya truly think sa, heck.”

“Then,” Darra set down her goblet, holding out a hand to Reena once more, palm up. “Another deal to be struck.”

Without further prompting the woman placed her free hand there, feeling the red cord once more slide over their wrists. It was tighter this time, painfully so, though Reena did not see where it had been knotted. She resisted the urge to tug at it, instead taking another large gulp of her wine.

As she did so, something flickered over Darra’s face, a change that was there and gone so quickly that the bard barely realized it was there. But the beauty’s eyes were different- not quite the same ones Reena had been staring into the entire night.

Darra spoke then, lilting words that seemed to drip from the woman’s lips and fade away as soon as it had been delivered. Reena strained to understand each word, but as soon as it was said and gone, both the word and the memory drifted out of her grasp. The only part she could recall, was her name spoken once.

Her brow furrowing, the bard’s mouth opened to protest, but the words that came forth were not the ones she expected, nor did they even sound like her own. “I, Reena Welkins, do pact with Graz’zt, the Dark Prince, as my lord and master. To serve as he deems fit, until the day he releases the bond. With my obedience, I shall be rewarded, as with disobedience, I shall be punished. So mote it be.”

The words ended with a gasp as the cord tightened once more, and the woman moved to pull her hand away, but couldn’t move in Darra’s sudden steely grasp. She met the woman’s gaze again, the bard’s own eyes widening.

“Who are ya realla?” she said quietly, face blanching with fear. “What’d I agree ta- ‘ow’d I know ta say those words?”

“We are pacted,” the woman across from her said, finally letting go. Reena looked down sharply to see no further trace of the red cord. “And as for who I am… well, you did say so. Quite plainly, at that.”

“Ya said favors, not-” she trailed off, shaking her head. “Not… not signin’ me life away!”

“Did you sign anything?” Darra teased, turning towards her goblet of wine once more. “It certainly was a favor to me, and you do get quite a lot in return.”

“What were it exactly?”

“I thought you did not care where or who it came from?”

Reena fell silent, expression darkening at the reminder. It was true. She had also said she didn’t want to know more about it. “Tha’s a nasty trick.”

“What trick?”

“What are ya?”

Darra’s lips curved up again in a smile that now revealed a little too many teeth that were a little too sharp. “I already told you, dearest Reena.”

“Hells, hells, hells,” she muttered, clutching at her wine to take a large bitter gulp.

“Not quite,” the fiend said encouragingly.

“Sa where’s me magic?”

“At your fingertips, when you choose to reach for it.”

“An how da I end this… deal?”

A pause now, and Darra tilted her goblet this way and that, appraising eyes turning to the red-haired woman. “Fulfill the terms of our pact, of course.”

Reena’s mouth fell agape. “But there were nae terms! Jus’ me agreein’ ta serve ya! Until ya di’in’ wan’ me ta serve ya nae longer!”

“You and I are quite similar,” the woman shrugged, sipping her wine once more. “I find… all these terms and rules to be constricting, really. And but for a few little favors I’ll need from you every once in a while, your life will be much the same. Other than having more magic than you could have ever imagined, of course.”

“I got a great imagination,” Reena growled.

“My statement is unchanged.”

“A wager! Ya like games then, do ya?”

The sharp smile widened. “Sometimes.”

“Another crack at th’ drinkin’ contest. I win, an’ ya release me fra this bond an th’ ferst one, an’ we go our merry ways, an’ ne’er see each other again.”

A faint chuckle slipped from the fiend, as she sipped her wine again. “And if I win?”

“I…,” a pause, as Reena mulled it over, unsure as to what Darra would actually want. “No complainin’ fra me. I’ll do yer biddin’ an’ won’ e’er bring up breakin’ th’ pact or getting outta deals, or wha’e’er.”

The only reply to that was a low hum, before Darra shook her head. “Clipping your spirit or dulling your tongue does not interest me, but if,” and she chuckled once more, “if I win, you take a ship west this very night, to the island of Arelith. Your life here is of no interest to me, and so you shall end it.”

Reena blinked. “Arelith? I ain’ ne’er heard o’ it.”

“And now you have.” The cord dangled once more between them, temptingly wound around the fiend’s wrist. “Deal?”

“Hells,” Reena muttered, thinking of what Robin would say when they spoke in the morning, but for the third time that night, the red cord looped around their wrists. “Deal.”

And a moment later, their goblets clinked together in a toast.

Much longer later, Reena woke to cold water splashing over her face. She sputtered and spat, the salt making her tongue curl and stomach heave. A soft hand patted her cheek, and Darra’s face- no, a man with Darra’s eyes and Darra’s mouth and Darra’s hair- no, it was Darra, the red-haired woman could see as he drew his six-fingered hand away from her. He was smiling.

“Ya cheated somehow,” she accused, the saltwater stinging as it dripped into her eyes.

They were under a clear night with a crescent moon, and her eyes moved past the man to gaze up at the stars. The floor she lay on was rocking, and she could see a mast and a currently-furled sail. Figures strode around the ship, just out of her view, but she saw no reason to move yet.

“Is it so difficult for you to accept that you simply cannot hold your liquor?” Darra said, placing a hand up underneath his chin. “Would you like to make another wager? That would be four deals we’ve struck in one night. You could try for five, even. Or six!”

Reena closed her eyes to block out the sight of his sharp grin.

“I jus’ don’ wanna remem’er this night e’er happened,” she groaned.

His reply drifted back to her, carried on mocking laughter. “As you wish.”

She woke up again, curled against a barrel, a tied scroll clutched in her fist, and a pain as if Tempus himself were hammering on her skull. Reena groaned, slowly unfolding to look up and over the railing of the ship at the endless sea stretching out ahead of her. A look the other way, revealed much the same.

“Wha’ in th’…” the woman muttered, straining to remember how she had gotten here. “Did I… get drunk an’ board a ship?”

It seems she had.

“Erhm, scuse me?” Reena called, using the barrel as a crutch to pull herself up. The nearest sailor paused, looking her up and down with interest. “Where’s th’ ship headed?”

He snorted in amusement, apparently unsurprised by the question. “The Isle o’ Arelith.”

“Righ’,” she nodded a few times as if that meant anything to her. “Erhm, thankya.”

Hells.

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

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Re: Reena - Drunk and Useless

Post by Eira » Tue Mar 26, 2019 7:38 pm

“There once were a young lass.”

Reena sat cross-legged next to the beginnings of a fire, idly feeding little twigs and bits of hay to the ravenous embers. Her dirty hair, finally free of a hood, hung lank and matted around her gaunt face. Bloodshot eyes fixed upon the whispers of flame and sparks before her, though they occasionally flicked up and across to the other side of the firepit where her listener crouched, waiting.

“There once were a young lass,” she said again, holding a hand out over the fire to feel the heat rising. “She were the’ apprentice o’a baker. An’ she lived wit’ him an’ worked wit’ him an’ baked bread an’ o’er treats fra dawn ta dusk.” She drew in a deep breath, before coughing to clear some imaginary catch in her throat. “She were content wit’ this life, though she ne’er could step foot outta th’ door, nae e’en ta draw water fra th’ well. Now, th’ baker weren’t no kindly man, but nor were he too awfully cruel. But he di’in’t like ta let this lass outta his sight, fer worry that she’d scarper away an’ share his secret recipes wit’ th’ world.”

The flames steadily grew in the silence of the next pause. There was no sound from Reena’s listener.

The woman snorted, reaching to the side to lift up a branch. “One day, th’ girl woke up early, much afore they ‘ad ta start work fer th’ day, an’ said ta th’ baker, ‘Please, I would like to finish my apprenticeship and journey the land and find my destiny.’ She near were pleadin’ ta leave.” There was a crack as she broke the branch over her leg, placing the halves over the fire. “Th’ baker thought it over, stretchin’ his decision up til sunrise, an’ finally said, ‘We have too much work to do! I promised the Mayor many loaves for his feast! I simply cannot spare you now.’ An’ sa, th’ girl went ta work another day.”

Reena paused, looking over at her listener. There was another pause, this one longer, before she let out a sigh and reached over once more for a branch.

CRACK.

“Th’ next morning, th’ girl woke early an’ asked him th’ same thing. An’ again, th’ baker waited til sunrise, muttering an’ agonizing over th’ decision afore finally sayin’, ‘It is time to bake now! I cannot spare you, the midwife asked for pies for her sister’s wedding!’ an’ sa th’ girl agreed, but silently vowed ta nae take nae fer an’ answer a third time.” This time, Reena’s hands found a log, and she hefted it to rest in her lap as she continued. “An sa, th’ third day, th’ girl woke early an’ closed th’ shutters so he woul’nae be able ta see th’ sun, before shaking him awake an’ asking th’ question again. Th’ baker muttered and cursed, but he knew he coul’nae stall her a third time. Sa he bade her ta wait a momen’ an’ he went ta th’ shop afore comin’ back wit’ three things.”

Lifting the log from her lap, the woman carefully settled it on the fire. Her hand raised, holding up three fingers.

“He gave her a basket, wit’ a loaf o’ bread. An’ he gave her a meat pie, wrapped all nice. An’ he gave her a caged pigeon, telling her it were sa she kin write ta him o’ her travels.” She lowered her hand once more, folding her arms in front of her chest. “Th’ girl thanked the baker, took th’ gifts, an’ left, just as th’ sun rose once more. However, as soon as they were outta sight o’ th’ baker’s shop, th’ girl heard a cooing fra th’ pigeon’s cage, an’ finally words as it flapped an’ tried ta get her attention. ‘Please free me, mistress,’ th’ pigeon wheedled, cooing sweetly. ‘I can tell you many things and give you advice on your journey, for my kind are everywhere, and see all, and carry much knowledge of the world.’ But the girl were wary, for she had seen that th’ pigeons that flocked around th’ shop were cruel an’ vicious creatures, who pecked out th’ eyes o’ mice an’ sparrows.”

Another log joined the first before Reena settled once more, pulling her cloak more firmly about her shoulders.

“An’ sa th’ girl asked, ‘How do I know that you are telling the truth?’ fer she were wise and wary o’ such a cruel creature. ‘Prove to me why you are different from the others of your flock.’ The pigeon whined an’ begged an’ crooned in its misery, but it could nae lie ta th’ girl fer she had seen th’ truth o’ its heart, an’ sa didnae let it go. Sa when its sweet words curdled an’ turned vicious an’ mocking, th’ girl were unsurprised.” Reena reached down to the bag at her side, fumbling through it. “She walked fer sa long an’ sa far, that th’ sun were already lowering o’er th’ horizon when she felt th’ pang o’ hunger an decided it were time ta rest. However, she had just sat an’ unwrapped th’ loaf o’ bread, when she saw a pale mot approaching her fra th’ forest.”

The woman pulled out a loaf of bread from the bag, ripping off a chunk to proffer it to her listener. She was greeted, again, with only silence. With a shrug, Reena raised the bread to her own mouth to bite into it.

“Th’ pale woman stopped in fra o’ th’ girl an’ smiled, showing many sharp fangs, though she were beautiful o’ face. An’ she spoke then, saying, ‘Please, may I have some food? I have not eaten for many days, and all else who I spoke to, had nothing to offer.’ However, th’ pigeon laughed raucously, for as mean-spirited as it were ta th’ young lass, it had no reason to act different to th’ pale mot. ‘She’s hungry for more than just food!’ it cackled, beating the cage with its wings in its mirth. ‘She wants your blood and your bone and flesh!’ An th’ pale woman snarled an’ fer a moment it lookt like she’d try ta devour th’ lass right then an’ there.”

Reena took her time with the bread now, chewing slowly and eyes closing in delight. She swallowed, finishing another bite before continuing.

“Howe’er, th’ girl took a piece o’ th’ bread an’ pushed it inta th’ pale woman’s mouth, sa she ‘ad nae choice but ta’ swallow it. She choked an’ struggled, but soon fell dead, foamin’ at th’ lips. Th’ girl realized that her paranoid master ‘ad poisoned th’ bread, fer he were sa bitter at her leavin’.” Turning, Reena slipped the bread back into her bag before rooting through it once more. “Now th’ pigeon laughed an’ laughed an’ laughed, near topplin’ o’er in its mirth, afore fergettin’ about th’ whole affair and whinin’ again fer th’ young lass ta free it once more. An’ still, she ignored it. Sa then she carefully wrappt th’ bread once more ta put it in her basket afore continuin’ on. She walked through th’ night, searchin’ fer food an’ a place ta sleep safely. But she saw nuthin e’en as morning came again, an’ e’en th’ pigeon, wit’ its need fer misdirection an’ tricks, coul’nae e’en give her an idea o’ where not ta go.”

Her listener shifted in place, and the warlock paused, sharp eyes catching the movement. She waited a moment, before shrugging and withdrawing an empty hand from her bag.

“Th’ lass stoppt ta rest again when th’ sun were high in th’ sky. An’ she unwrappt th’ meat pie, knowing it may be chock fulla poison, but bein’ sa faint wit’ hunger as she were, she knew she ‘ad nae choice.”

Her eyes remained fixed on the listener, who shifted again, now uncomfortable to be pinned by the gaze.

“A wolf did approach then, limping. Th’ pigeon ain’t dare ta try an’ insult th’ wolf, merely squawking inna its fright an’ trying ta flee. ‘Hello, brother wolf,’ the girl said, all respectful-like, an’ she bowed ta th’ wolf. ‘What brings you here during the day? There must be hunters about.’ The wolf laughed then, an’ its voice were dry as it replied, ‘I have met some of those hunters,’ an’ sure nuff, th’ girl could see an arrow stickin’ outta its side. ‘I ask for aid, and food, if you can spare it.’ Th’ girl kindly agreed, though th’ pigeon shrieked and begged for her to let th’ beast die, an’ she went ta pull th’ arrow outta th’ wolf’s side.”

Reena fell silent once more, drawing the battered sword from the sand behind her to poke at the slowly settling fire. It popped and sparked before flaring up once more. Setting the sword down, she leaned to the side to grasp a handful of sticks and tossed them to the ever-ravenous flames.

“When she were done,” her voice was almost subdued now as the warlock stared into the fire. “Th’ wolf thanked her, licked th’ wound, an’ asked once more fer some food. Th’ girl picked up th’ pie, but hesitated. ‘I would gladly give you food,’ said she, ‘but I fear my master may have poisoned it.’ Th’ wolf laughed. ‘I am strong,’ it said. ‘I do not fear poison.’ An’ sa she handed th’ pie o’er, an’ th’ wolf devoured every bit o’ it. When it were done, it nodded fer th’ lass ta approach it once more. ‘As you have helped me, so I shall help you. Take my blood from the arrow, and smear it on your lips. And from then on, no poison shall ever trouble you.’ She did sa, an’ thanked th’ wolf. It bowed ta her, an’ went back inna th’ forest. An’ th’ lass finally could eat th’ bread th’ baker had given her, bein’ as strong an’ hardy as a wolf.”

The red-haired woman’s own hand lifted to her lips, and she tapped her mouth with a finger in thought.

“Course, ta make it clear, this is all an old folk’s tale,” she said to her listener, expression twisting to a wry smile. “I wouldn’ suggest getting’ intimate wit’ a wolf’s blood like that- might catch a disease or summat.”

At the look on her listener’s face, she chuckled softly.

“Now rested an’ fed, th’ girl continued on her journey, seein’ th’ sun disappear fra th’ sky as th’ trees grew larger an’ older. Soon, all she could hear was th’ pigeon jabbering its foul words ta her, but she knew better than ta heed anything it said. As she walked, she entered th’ ancient ruins o’a village that had been long grown o’er by th’ forest. An’ at th’ center o’ th’ village, th’ girl found a bear crouching there, waitin’ fer her. She gasped, an’ woulda run, had th’ bear not lookt up an’ bade her ta sit across fra him. She noticed he were sitting in fra o’a table, an’ there was a chair across fra it, like he had been waiting jus’ fer her. An’ sa th’ lass sat, waiting fer th’ bear ta speak.”

Reena rose then, dusting sand from the back of her cloak, and turned her back on the fire. A faint shuffling marked her listener moving once more, and the warlock laughed softly, staring out at the darkened desert. She did not turn to look, almost daringly so.

“When th’ bear did speak,” she said, eyes scanning the horizon, “his voice echoed out, an’ th’ lass felt each word weighin’ heavy on her soul. ‘You have avenged the people of this village,’ th’ bear said, gesturing roun’ wit’ a majestic paw. ‘The pale woman you poisoned with your master’s bread shall neither taunt nor trouble the ghosts of her victims, any more.’ The girl bowed her head, an’ her voice were rather small afore th’ grand bear. ‘I did not do much,’ she admitted. ‘I was scared, and did not know what else to do.’ But th’ bear nodded inna th’ wise way that bears do. ‘Even so,’ he said, ‘she is dead by your hand, and I would grant a boon of you. Tell me what you wish.’ An’ in those days, such a thing were a mighty gift indeed, fer th’ girl knew she could ask o’ anythin’ she would want inna th’ world.”

Crouching down, the warlock lifted her sword from the sand, holding it in her offhand.

“Th’ girl thought o’ e’erything she could ask, an’ finally decided, ‘I wish this pigeon’s nature could be changed. It is cruel and would sooner peck my eyes out, but it was because of its evil nature that I could have known to defeat the pale woman. I wish to see it have kindness and honor and a heart of truth.’ An’ the bear nodded, saying it’d be so. He put a heavy paw upon th’ pigeon’s cage, an’ when he pulled it away, a sleek black raven perched there. Th’ young lass let it out immediately, an it flew out ta land on her shoulder. She lookt away an’ back, an’ th’ bear were gone, taking th’ cage wit’ him.”

Reena lifted the sword in front of her, trembling left hand unused to the weight of the blade. But she slowly swung it in front of her as if tracing the horizon.

“E’en sa,” the warlock continued as she moved the sword in a basic block and attack pattern, “th’ lass did nae think her journey were o’er. She continued on thra th’ forest until she came ta’a town. Now, th’ folk there were timid an’ afeared o’ their lord, speakin’ o’ him as a terrible man who ruled wit’ an iron fist, wit’ darkness an’ corruption an’ misery an’ evil. They begged her to leave town while she could, fer he’d seek any wit’ a good heart an’ torture ‘em ta twist their minds and break their spirits.”

Reena held the sword in both hands now, lunging out and stepping back. And repeating the motion.

“Th’ girl refused, as lasses o’ that time were wont ta do, an’ continued on ta th’ great castle.”

She kept a foot planted as she moved slowly, blocking and striking at invisible enemies.

“Alla th’ servants were ta scared ta talk ta her, fer e’en wit’ her plain an’ dirty clothes, wit’ a raven t her shoulder, it seemt that she coulda been some sorta evil as well, fer she walkt inta th’ hall ta face this lord, wit’ nae fear in her eyes an’ a smile on her lips. Th’ lord were surprised as well, fer he had become used ta th’ people inna th’ land cringing ta be near him, an’ while he delighted in such fear, he were more curious ta see one who didna seem ta worry at all. He laughed, and greeted th’ lass grandly, asking her why she were here. An’ she could see that despite alla his evil an’ cruelty an’ terror, he were a man fine o’ face and beautiful o’ voice.”

Reena twirled, jabbing the sword out in the direction of the fire. Her gaze met her listener’s firmly, and the warlock grinned, teeth bared in the smile.

“But th’ raven whispered inna th’ girl’s ear,” she said, eyes remaining fixed on the listener, and grin fading somewhat. “An’ it said ta be wary, tha’ e’en though he were beautiful ta lookit an’ beautiful ta listen ta, that th’ beauty inna th’ world was mosta evil o’ all. An’ beauty is weak, an’ able ta be brought down low wit’ sweet words an’ sweet offers an’ sometimes, one should stab beauty inna th’ face afore it has a chance ta twist ya.”

Something simmered in the air between the two gazes, before the warlock finished her spin, ending with her back facing the fire once more.

“Th’ girl faced the man fully an’ bowed low ta him. ‘You are an evil and corrupt man,’ said she. ‘Your people are miserable, and tell all visitors to go far from here.’ The lord laughed at that. ‘Do you expect me to be surprised by that? Why are you here, truthsayer?’ An’ th’ lass bowed deeper still. ‘I wish to become your baker. I have never worked for one with such power who had such little care for those beneath him. I believe that is our natural place.’ Her blunt words amused an’ surprised th’ lord further still, an’ he agreed.”

The sword lowered. Reena’s voice became harsher, her brow furrowing.

“Now meanwhile, alla th’ servants o’ th’ castle feared this young woman e’en more, fer ta see all his tyranny an’ cruelty, what’d it mean fer th’ one who’d willingly go ta serve such a man? An’ ta say that it were their natural place o’ such things? They dared not openly strike out against him, fer fear o’ saving their own skins, but they tried to resist how they could, an’ help others flee him, an’ warn thems they could… but ta seek him out ta serve him? That took true evil indeed. An’ sa th’ young lass had nae friends then, as she prepared fer a great feast, one as th’ Lord held each night.”

She turned slowly before sinking down to sit in front of the fire. The sword dropped into the sand next to her, and the warlock leaned forward.

“Now,” she said, voice softening again, “such things ain’t always as tha seem, an’ one kin appear ta be doing th’ biddin’ o’ their master, while spending all their time scheming against ‘em, an’ nae trustin’ e’en thems who’d be on their side in their fight against evil. Fer there ain’ nae such thing as betrayal o’ trust if’n ya don’ trust anyone inna th’ ferst place.”

A hand stretched out, golden tattoos on her skin glinting in the firelight. She turned her arm this way and that, seeking the faded scarring under and around the tattoos.

“Sa, when th’ girl, this young smilin’ lass, took this lovely beautiful cake out ta th’ lord, he bade her ta eat the ferst slice. Fer as surprised as he were by this girl’s declaration o’ loyalty, he were nae’ver ta surprised ta ferget ta be wary. Th’ girl did sa, smiling e’en more as she did sa. She di’in’t hesitate one bit.” A pause, and Reena’s own lips curved up in a smile. “She were smilin’ fer e’en as th’ bite o’ th’ cake burned fulla poison, th’ wolf’s blood onna her lips protected her from the death that she had baked up. Th’ lord were pleased ta see her standing, an’ began ta eat th’ cake. But no further had he, an’ all his nobles an’ other black-hearted vassals taken a bite o’ their own cake, than did they fall ta th’ floor, clutching at their throats, wit’ blood an’ bile an’ foam gurglin’ fra them.”

Her arm inched lower to the fire.

“Th’ servants o’ th’ castle cheered an’ thanked th’ girl, an’ they danced an’ feasted. An’ by th’ time th’ girl decided it were time ta return home, they had found th’ old ruler o’ th’ land, a well-loved duke who had been in hidin’, biding his time til he could return ta take care o’ th’ people he wished ta care fer. Th’ girl felt that th’ land were in good hands, as th’ raven told her that this duke were a good-hearted man an’ had always been well-loved by his people.”

With a hiss, Reena finally pulled her arm away, her usually-pale skin now reddened by flame.

“Sa th’ girl walked an’ walked an’ walked ta th’ bakery with a bit o’ th’ cake, greetin’ her old master wit’ open arms. She told him that she had seen th’ world, an’ that it were ta big fer her, sa she wished ta come back an’ be his apprentice again. She offered him th’ cake, saying she wished ta make amends if’n he’d have her back again. Relieved that she were back, th’ baker gladly ate th’ cake, sa gladly that he still e’en had a smile onna his face as he lay dead onna th’ floor.”

She folded her hands in her lap, gaze dropping to the sand in front of her. “An’ fra then on, th’ girl lived inna th’ bakery wit’ th’ raven, ne’er feelin’ as if she had ta venture outta her door.”

Her listened shifted once more, and Reena grinned, chin raising as she eyed the succubus that had been crouching there since long before the story’s beginning.

“I dunno th’ moral o’ that story,” the warlock said, letting out a raspy chuckle. “Robin ne’er did get ta that part, an’ course I did add a bit o’ me own… commentary ta th’ tale.”

A demonic eyebrow lifted in a perfect arch. Normally, even that much would be enough to send a stab of desire through the warlock’s heart, but it only served to make her laugh louder, throwing her head back as she chortled. A faint hiss escaped the demon, and it spat out a string of lilting words in Abyssal.

“Ya don’ get ta pike off til I tell ya ta pike off,” Reena said, holding the pose as she stared up at the night sky. “An’ ya kin tell every bit o’ this story ta yer master, sa? E’ery single part. Make him choke on it.” She held out a hand, a swirl of icy blue light appearing in her eyes. “Now, pike off.”

And in a flash of eldritch energy, the demon obeyed.

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

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Re: Reena - Drunk and Useless

Post by Eira » Thu Mar 28, 2019 7:03 pm

She stalked through the blue-tinged desert, shield strapped to her arm and tip of her bastard sword held just barely off the ground. A fine weapon in its own right, it was still far cry from the brilliant damask of the sword she carried before, holding an edge so keen she could cut a leaf, and its every bite searing with fire. That sword was gone now, its imbued magicks most likely just barely staving off the sea-strengthened rust that threatened to consume. In her thoughts, the woman could hear once more her own panicked shout as it soared over the cliff and out into the water.

It was almost ironic, in its own twisted way. One might even take the whole ordeal as a sign from the Broken Man, relieving her of the trappings of armor and wealth and everything else that held her back from his purpose. Perhaps that could be it, if she didn’t know better about who had sent her attackers and where she stood as Ilmateri.

Former Ilmateri?

The woman paused in her hunt, eyes flicking around the craggy cliffs in the distance.

“Stop a’ yer self-pity, lass,” she whispered to herself, taking another step forward. “Caradoc would laugh at ye fer it.”

One man’s words shouldn’t hurt so much, as she tried to convince herself time and time again. But was he not right in a way? For a demon slave, a pact-bonded, a warlock, was not her very presence defiling to the temple and the altars of the god and gods she held so dear? It did not matter what her intentions or what her wishes were, when on looked at the facts of what had happened.

She had made a wish. It was answered.

And what was it all for?

She spoke as if tending the temple had given her some peace of mind, when all it did was bind her to a place that would love nothing more than to see her burned and buried and forgotten. All it did was delude her into thinking that she could find a home again. All it did was hurt others in the eventuality of truth. And all it did was turn her more and more onto the path she despised.

“Sa what n-” the question started, and ended in a moment as a dark shape hurtled through the air, cutting a searing slash across the side of her face as the warlock lurched through the side.

A glance back revealed an arrow skidding to a halt in the sand, and Reena raised her shield-arm in front of her, dodging to the side as yet another arrow flew by. A glance forward, and three shadows detached from the shadows of the cliff to stalk forward. The warlock allowed a strained laugh to escape as she raised her sword, running forward and sketching a sign in the air with her free hand.

The desert lightened considerably as the magic settled around her eyes, and she blinked through the sudden stinging and involuntary tears that always accompanied that particular spell. Almost reaching her foes, she sketched out another sign, and a ripple of white magic passed over her body, enhancing and strengthening.

Her shield bashed one of the yuan-ti in the face, and the snake-woman reeled backwards. The other two flagged in their advance, cautiously avoiding the swipes of Reena’s blade. One moved forward, blocking and jabbing with a short spear as the other’s scaled hands moved in the beginnings of a spell.

Reena growled at the next blow, retreating a few paces and catching the tip of a spear in her armor before her own fingers moved once more in arcane symbols.

Darkness surrounded the fighters, and Reena dove to the side as the other spellcaster finished, a stream of poisonous fog pouring forth to cover ally and foe alike. Coughing wretchedly, Reena moved further back, nimbly avoiding more blind jabs of the spear. Reaching for the pouch at her belt, she fumbled through it for a vial to uncork and drink quickly.

The burning and tightness in her throat from the fog disappeared quickly, and the woman drew in grateful breaths, protected by the draught. Now barely at the edge of the darkness, she sketched a sign once more, calling forth a powerful blast of wind to dissipate the fog and topple her enemies to the ground.

From there, it was laughably easy.

This spell hardly required any words or movement, and Reena merely held out a hand, collecting dark-red energy to pour into the yuan-ti nearest to her. And once more.

When they struggled to get up, she reacted faster, setting the ground to shake and topple, hardly keeping her own balance. And between knocking the yuan-ti down and sucking their very life from them, it was only a few moments before they lay dead, their sunken flesh more akin to century-old mummies.

Reena stood there, staring at the corpses until the darkness faded from around her.

“I shoulda let ya kill me,” she muttered finally, stepping forward to turn them over and yank an amulet from the throat of one. It glittered with magic, though the warlock gave it barely more than a cursory glance before adding it to the collection of jeweled magics hanging around her neck. “Mebe then, I finally wouldn’ be forced ta return.”

But even as she said it, the woman knew how hopeless it sounded. She didn’t want to die. She couldn’t come close to dying. Even if she walked into a battle with no magic, no armor, no weapons, she’d find a way to escape the obvious somehow. One could not spend their whole life trying to survive and just-

It was difficult to go against one’s own instincts.

“Sa what next?” Reena finally finished her earlier interrupted question. She drew back her foot, kicking a spray of sand over the corpses, doing nothing to actually cover them, but turned her back anyway. “I kinnae go ta Cordor again.” At least, not as much as she was used to. “An if’n I go ta Guldoran’, I’ll prolla be gutted by that shadow-wielder.”

That was less certain. Brogendstein? Probably not. Definitely not Sencliffe; her single experience there had been less than ideal. At least, she had been assured she could find refuge in the Dale, though it was rather too close to Myon to be comfortable. And she had also been assured that she could find refuge in the Nomad, and look how well that turned out when she needed it most.

Was it a test? Reena couldn’t say, couldn’t figure out what possessed her to so openly attempt to flaunt her presence there. And that damned guard was the very same one who continued to haunt her nightmares and dog her footsteps. Sometimes she could feel his eyes on her back, even in Skal, even here, even surrounded by nothing but sand.

“If I e’er turn evil an’ wish ta wreak havoc onna th’ world…” she started, a wry grin finding its way across her face, but the joke remained unfinished in a scoff and shake of the head.

Carrying a grudge was useless. He didn’t know her. He had no reason to. He was doing what he was paid to do and following orders.

No more, no less.

At least, that’s what she had to keep telling herself so the fury would not rise up again and overtake all common sense. Surely, he was not paid or ordered to convince Banites to convert in the city and boast about how he was responsible for exiling the Triad. And in the same breath, accuse her of defiling her god’s holy place, pretending like he cared. And if those were indeed his orders, then truly Cordor deserved to rot.

No wonder the Dark Prince had chosen that man’s face as one of the many to taunt her in sleep and in her dreams. When Reena had her wits about her, she could follow a thread from one action to the next, and to the next, on and on, all the way to his puppeteering grip. Sometimes, it was obvious. Sometimes not. She never dared try to look too far, for fear of peering too deeply and finding nothing of his manipulations and only her own incompetence and mistakes.

So caught up in her reverie, the warlock only now realized that her feet had taken her back to the outskirts of the town. Shaking her head slowly, she moved past the market stalls and the tents, pausing briefly by the fountain before continuing on. A gauntleted hand reach out to push through the doorway and into the darkened-yet-still-peaceful Garden of Respite.

Was it better than drinking?

Not yet.

But the routine was calming enough.

Reena doffed her blood-encrusted armor, wincing as the links pulled away from her broken and oozing flesh. Carefully setting the armor aside, the woman peeled the tatters of her shirt away to reveal the day’s bruises and- well, slightly concerning wounds. In the dark emptiness of the pools, she was uncaring of modesty, merely turning to her bag to find bandages and her precious few remaining potion bottles.

The bandages were more for mopping up blood, as the potions began their work of sealing the wounds. Reena tentatively poked at the scabbed scarring, hoping the rationed sips were enough that it would not open again in the water. A glance to the potion, she dared to risk another sip, feeling a wash of relief soar through her.

Shedding her remaining clothing, Reena practically fell into the pool, and let out a deep relaxed sigh. After the bitterly cold winter of Skal, this warmth, any warmth, felt unreal. No longer did she have to huddle close to a fire or miserably hide inside a pile of stinking furs. Hunting gnolls and minotuars had been good for warming the blood, but she couldn’t do that constantly without rest. And rest was supposed to be warm. Relaxing. Peaceful. Everything Skaljaard was not.

She raised a hand, running it through her matted hair with disgust. Leaning back and closing her eyes, the woman let herself float there, listening to her own breathing and the heartbeat pounding so clearly in her ears.

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

Discord: eighra


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Eira
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Re: Reena - Drunk and Useless

Post by Eira » Sat Mar 30, 2019 7:16 pm

Ma,

I really miss you.

I’m sorry for leaving so suddenly, but after I ended my engagement with Phillip, I really didn’t know where to go. I know I should have sent word, and I shouldn’t have taken my dowry, but I needed to buy passage on a ship, and really, I don’t think the marrying life is for me.

By Ilmater’s grace, Danny, Mert, and Vicky all found me safely and have all found their own paths around the island. If I can convince them to go home to visit, I’ll be sure to send coin with them to pay back my dowry. I am unable to leave my duties here on the island, for the company with which I work, would be unable to spare me for that time. I can assure you that I am safe, and I have a home and work to keep


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

My dearest Lionel,

I returned to the main isle over a month ago now, and still have come no closer to finding you. Your room was gone, and no one I asked could give me any hint to your whereabouts. I will not lie about how much it hurts, though I suppose it is only appropriate, given how I left you in the first place. I never understood before what you went through when I would vanish.

It is strange. I know you are capable, even more so than myself, so it must not be your safety I worry about. But even so, I worry and I am pained when I do not know where you are. And to think, I reveled in being able to roam about and answer to none but my own whims.

I never worried with Robin.

To explain why, I suppose it is about time that I actually told you about her. I resisted this for long, not even hinting at her existence. Somehow, if I avoided thinking about her, it meant that what had happened was not real, as if I could take it all back. I still wish I could. I wish I could believe in the delusion that everything was normal, that I could spend my days gorging myself on what enjoyment I could find, only to run back to her arms.

Robin was the breath of fresh air after a storm. She was the light of a new day and the first birdsong after snowmelt. She was freedom and wildness and laughter and light and joy. She was and is everything to me.

I returned back to Arelith to win back my last memories of her and that night and to learn what possessed me to leave the woman I would die for and live for, to come here.

I love you with all my heart and all my being. That has not changed.

But I crave Robin’s presence like a drowning man craves air, and sometimes I don't know if I would prefer to drown than live without her. Ever since she first crossed my path, I was drawn to her, and now it only seems like some cruel jest at my expense that I am unable to follow. I cannot return to her as I am. With a fiend’s grip on my soul, and blood staining my hands, I am not the same as I once was. And even if I were the same woman Robin fell for, I know she would not forgive me after three years of silence.

And even if she would, I am still bound. My patron will not humor another “vacation” again, not when I have his orders to fulfill, and not when he knows how desperate I have become. All I have lived for is gone. All I knew, has changed. I am alone and I am hurting, and I know I am not worthy of the faith you and the others put in me.

I am so tired, Lionel.

It takes a twisted sense of humor to know that I now name two Abyssal murderesses as the ones I feel most at ease around. Perhaps it was meant to be. I cannot disappoint the Broken Man further, and as time goes on, the less I find I care. I have done all I could. I am not worthy of this path and it is not worthy of me.

I know I should write more. You deserve more than this, but


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Dearest Robin,

I know what I have done is unforgivable, and I shall beg no forgiveness from you. Even under different circumstances, nothing I could say would


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Reena flung the sheaf of unfinished letters into the small fire in front of her. With a pained groan, she turned away, laying down and curling up on her side.

The sand in the evening was cool on her face.

I exist to describe the world around us.

Akorae

Keth'ym Evanara - wandering better paths
Veriel Xyrdan - married and happy
Reena Welkins - Dead

Discord: eighra


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