Endisty Seasilver

[strangelander]

Player name: Stranger in a Strange Land
Character name: Endisty Seasilver
Race: Half-Elf (Moon)
Gender: Female
Class(es): Fighter

Training: Soldiering, Archery, Humanoid Culture (Orcish), Herbalism


Endisty Seasilver was born Aen'distrae Lhune-Lhai, sired by her moon-elven mother Haedestrae Lhune and her human father Jacoby Gale, mid-Mirtul in the Year of the Bright Blade, 1347. The small and uncommon family dwelt at the Gale farm just outside Eveningstar, in the rolling northlands of Cormyr. Here, while Jacoby reared sheep and flax and while Haedestrae divided her tendays between home and highhunting throughout the Stonelands, Endisty grew from infant to child. Though they were not rich by any means, Jacoby was comfortable enough with his lover's intermittant appearances and his own modest work that he could afford to hire a woman from the village nearby to mind their daughter while he was at toil. So it was that Belbarra Rinth, a stout and pleasant woman who gathered herbs for the Eveningstar apothecary, came to live at the Gale farm as well, and came to govern and love Endisty as if she were her very own. It was Belbarra who gave the girl her sur, calling her Seasilver after sailors' call of colored moonlight that clung to midnight waves and often murmuring the name to Endisty when she was brushing the girl's moonlight-colored hair in those sweetest of hours before bed.

Lithe as a deer like her mother, Endisty took after her father in manner and mein. It was a jest between Haedestrae and Jacoby, in late-of-night murmurs under heavy quilts, that mayhaps Endisty was too thin and fey to ever support the tomboyish ways of her youth and tongue. In either case, she grew much under the tutelage of Belbarra, who often took the girl out into the wilderlands behind the farm to forage for flowers and mushrooms and show Endisty what she knew of such things. The accustomed here-there visits of her mother wore thin when Endisty reached her fourteenth summer, and just before Highharvesttide she demanded to accompany Haedestrae to see something of her travels and doings. It was the first and last time for many seasons that Endisty would ply a bow, but Haedestrae was a fine shot and a good teacher. When Endisty did finally draw an arrow again, it would forever change her life... but the future was still a hazy happy blur, in those long summer days.

That was the Year of Maidens, during a season of telling activities across the Realms. In distant Zhentil Keep, a cruel mage named Manshoon was quietly gathering power to his arm and setting organisation to his command in the face of a holy war within that very place... but it would take another three years before those actions would ripple out down the Moonsea and into Sembia: The aligned merchant houses of Silvertail and the Five Turning Coins suffered greatly at the hands of mysterious black-armored and incisively-led brigands, voicelessly and namelessly directed by distant Zhentil Keep. The destruction of the two houses caused Sembia's economy to falter, for Silvertail handled most of the Cormanthor trade, while Five Turning Coins' Dalelands routes were haunted endlessly until the losses were too great to bear. As Zhentish-backed merchants rushed in to fill the void left behind by these two, other Sembian cartels looked to the west to where the rich towers and roads of Cormyr stood smartly. Just as Manshoon had sent his jackals to feed off of Sembia, so did Sembia send their wolves across the Thunder Peaks and down into Cormyr, seeking profit by deal cut or purse cut. Warnings were sent to Sembia, along with a dispatch of Purple Dragons and the official Ambassador of Trade. While talks were proceeding, halting and plodding though they were, a misfit band of ruffians led by a vicious priestess of Talona stumbled upon the roadhouse inn where the moot was secreted. They thought to rob their marks and begone, but the soldiers of Cormyr were not called dragons for naught... in the fray, Ambassador Eltel was struck in the eye by a poisoned barb and the exchequer to Sembia's Ministry of Barter was thrown down by blades. The deaths of both personages sparked a series of events in both countries, resulting in ratified trade agreements, threats, and open hostilities to foreign agents hosted by either. Ultimately, the aggressions turned down to a simmer again, but Cormyr did send a call to all outposts under banner, and it was heeded...

In Endisty's small world, all of this meant little, save that the corps of Eveningstar sent for all able-bodied citizens interested in joining the militia to present themselves before the master-at-arms and Lady Winter herself. Jacoby Gale forbade his only child to attend, but Haedestrae and Belbarra both gave wisdom to the man, to see that Endisty was grown to near-womanhood and would make for herself her own road. So it was that Endisty was enlisted in the Eveningstar corps, and would rise to the rank of sergeant, set to command a small group of soldiers posted near a group of supposedly haunted ruins north of the village where merchants often stopped to disguise goods and folks before venturing into Cormyr to face the bordertax.

No one, least of all young Endisty, was prepared for the warfare that followed when Cormyr was torn apart by goblinoid ranks and a devilish dragon's wicked plot. Down fell the great King of the land, his eldest daughter too. Fallen was the grand city of Arabel, and many villages and towns between overrun by humanoids. During these hellish days, Endisty was freed from her duty so that she could lend her blade and bow to the rallies under Myrmeen Lhal's command, the once-Mistress of that city. Wresting Arabel back from enemy hands was no easy feat, and many a good soldier and farmer alike were sent to join King Azoun and crown princess Tanalasta in the everafter. Finally, however, with the aid of much magic and prayer too, the orcs and goblins occupying the city were forced back in one decisive evening. Endisty had been there too, sending her arrows at them, screaming with the thrill and the utter tire of it alongside so many of her countryfolk. It had been the most glorious and the most hideous months of her life, spent in that place where the sun rose and set upon bloodstained streets...

...she still woke in terror, betimes, seeing those awful walls running crimson. Time and travel make the mend, as Belbarra always used to tell her, and so Endisty decided to journey out into Cormyr. She wished to see more of her country, to learn what had befallen the rest of it. One day too, she would find her way back to the small sheep farm in the northern hills, where a field of flax was always swaying. One day.

[strangelander]

She sat in the inn's taproom, alone at a table and turning something small and shiny over and over in hand.

It was a gemstone, dazzlingly purple.

Endisty watched as candlelight played across the facets of the jewel, turning it to catch light the better. Such a deep violet color too. It was lucky, and a lucky find.

She thought about that.


* * *


"Good luck."

Endisty glanced back at Zakk for just a moment. The man was cowled and garbed in dark fashion, though he seemed thinnish and short, she could not be certain without taking a fair time to watch him... as she turned back about, Endisty suddenly spied a second trapstone just abutting the first. Worn but slightly off-color to the rest of the pavers, the girl could tell that it had been installed after the original floor was laid and then painstakingly dusted and marred in an attempt to make it match.

Good luck indeed.

They'd come to the tower at Zakk's behest, after Endisty had chanced upon Abby and Ethan at Isinhold outside the rustic trader's shop. At first, she was hesitant for her initial meeting with the small priestess of Ilmater and her sturdy companion had been sour, encountering the pair well within the musty corridors of the crypts which laced through and under the town proper. One of the walking dead therein had raked her with its bony claws, ripping off her gauntlet and a furrow of flesh at the same time. Endisty had been making her way back through the eerie chambers toward the huge twisting stair that would take her up into fresh air when a small figure had dashed at her from the shadows, calling out and bringing a spell down upon her. Soldiers once trained, whether afield or afoot, will always react the same. Endisty had very nearly run Abby through with her blade before an explanation was had and quick though pained introductions were made. Later, when they were all met again on the road, Endisty had agreed to join them if only to make amends in her way for offending Abby. After all, who could fault one of the Crying God's favored, especially when she'd given succor to Endisty and was rewarded with but distrust and a rather poor attitude.

"Twice-blasted gnome's set two here!" Endisty bent to the task of disarming them, but immediately saw a third stone that may or may not have had anything to do with the first two. Could it be a failsafe, in case the traps did not rout their victim straightaway? A series of carefully-chipped runes decorating that third trapstone made her swallow hard.

"Gah! These seem beyond my skill." Still kneeling, Endisty deliberately ran a hand through the air above both stones so that her companions could mark them as well. "I can see the lay of them, but... they are -very- intricate. I-"

All at once, the mouth of darkness up the corridor suddenly -moved-.

"-what's that? In the shadows!?" Endisty was up instantly, reaching for her blade. She whipped about, catching a glimpse of Abby standing nearby and turned to Ethan, saying something.

"Back!"

The companions turned as realisation stomped its way into the chamber, a huge and sinister-looking thing of angular metal plates and great swinging limbs. The creature made a series of bizarre clicks and whirrings from deep within its body, and it swung one huge leg out and down, stepping all that way across the flagstones to lean just next to Endisty. In a flash, the girl dragged her shield out and up, just as one of the giant metal arms came down soundlessly.

The blow was deafening in her ears, slamming into her shield with a crease and shriek of metal and sending her flying back into the wall.

The next moment fell upon them, and Ethan was there, blade out and hacking at the side of the creature while Zakk, too, came a bit more warily, both blades held up and before him as he stalked forward. Blades now ringing off its plates, the creature clicked and whirred and twisted back to strike at Ethan. Endisty dragged herself to her feet and approached far more cautiously, bent shield up high as she watched for an opening. Across from her, Zakk was moving slow and dangerously, like a scorpion, before springing into action. Both blades rang loudly, appearing to do nothing, until the creature made a queer high-pitched humming and Endisty saw the punctures between two of its leg-plates. Inspired by this success, she joined Ethan and Zakk and the trio hacked away at the thing while Abby darted back and forth behind them, sending cool respite to arm or leg, as the creature got its chance strikes in. Ethan was a doughty fighter, however, and kept the creature at bay to one side, giving Zakk and Endisty the best opportunities to attack. Just as it began to seem hopeless warring against that which never seemed to dull or tire or feel the blows given it, the whirring within the creature suddenly took on a queer tone. Ethan's blade slammed home then, sending out a spray of sparks amid the keening of metal skirling across metal. Endisty jabbed forward, but the creature had bent and suddenly sprang one arm out and down, swinging at Abby from where she was moving beyond the combat.

The priestess was far more sly, however, and quickly ducked away.

Endisty continued to ply her blade, using her shield to press the attack when the creature's leg got too close to her. She could hear Zakk on the other side of the creature, hear his blades ringing and skirling, see sparks falling to the floor around them...

...the metallic thing turned suddenly in place, humming queerly, and it raised one arm before its middle, the plates strung upon that limb many shields for it.

Endisty fell back panting, caught a glimpse of Ethan as he was calling out to Zakk who stood rooting through a pocket with one blade tucked under arm, the other clamped in his teeth. The small dark man brought something to his lips to replace his weapon and drank. Ethan darted to Endisty's side then, suddenly, using his blade to wedge the creature's giant shinplate back, trying to give Zakk room to maneuver, who merely tossed the empty vial to the stones and took up his blades again. Once, twice, those weapons rang against metal, and the creature made that those eerie whirrings and clicks deep within itself. It seemed to tense a moment, and then moved in a rushing blur. A monstrous metallic limb again leapt high over the trio of bladesfolk to come down swatting at Abby. This time, however, the priestess was struck squarely, sent sprawling back several feet with a muffled cry.

"Miss Abby!"

Endisty ignored Ethan's concern, the both of them, for if they did not concentrate on felling the weird gnomish construct before them it might fate all of them to fall under its untiring, ceaseless plated fists.

With a shout of desperation and rage, Endisty lunged forward, slamming both the tip of her shield and her blade into the creature's midsection. With a shock, something there gave out a screech of metal and twisted aside. She saw it.

"There! A loosened plate! Aim for that!"

Ethan and Zakk had turned to see where the girl was pointing with her sword, and the creature gave out a ringing peal as though something tight and heavy had come loose within its innards. Just under the thing's pelvis, where the two narrow legs flared from their sockets into huge flanged limbs, a twisted square of metal had been knocked free of its mount and hung askance. Something dark and spitting could be seen within that space...

The creature reared back on one foot, swinging its torso about to kick at Endisty. Quick but not quick enough, the metal limb clipped the girl as she scrambled to raise her shield upright again. Gasping, Endisty fell back to the wall once more, gathering her wits. Unfortunately, the construct needed to such respite, and it immediately turned with leg still raised. Ethan had a brief moment of sheer panic wash across his face as the limb dropped at him and then the warrior was both knocked flat and fallen beneath the heavy metal foot. Someone screamed, possibly Abby, and Zakk was suddenly visible as the creature lurched forward ungainly to squash Ethan completely.

"No!"

Zakk and Endisty redoubled their efforts, throwing themselves at the creature with such fervor that it had no choice but to step off of and away from Ethan. Abby darted in, favoring one side, and began to quietly chant.

The small dark man's weapons rang again in their twin echoes as they scraped and flitted along the metal plates, seeking purchase. Likewise, Endisty's own swordtip went skirling up and down, back and forth, looking for something to sink into. Both were exhausted, frustrated...

Ethan rose up with a fire in his eyes then, heavy blade leading his charge. He threw himself bodily into the construct, sword-first, which pierced past that loosened plate to fetch up deep within the creature's inner workings. The man rode the monstrosity down as it gave a series of weird chirpings, collapsing into the wall with a loud ringing and sliding down into an unmoving heap, the hilt of Ethan's blade jutting out of its middle like the fletching of some great arrow. No one spoke at first; everyone sought their breath. At the last, Abby moved quietly to the trio and stepped gingerly over one monstrous metal hand.

"I-is everyone... alright?"


* * *


They -had- been lucky, and in more ways than one.

The dastard gnome's tower had been fraught with other surprises, other challenges... but those were musings for another time.

Endisty quickly returned the gems to their pouch and tied it fast, returning the slip of deerskin to her belt. She would wait for Torgeir and Abby a bit longer before returning to her room. Sleep was something she could not trade away, no matter the offer.

"At least they've a proper alemeister somewhere near", she said softly, glancing back to the bottles and casks lined up in neat soldier-ranks, awaiting the battle of patrons and mugs to come.

She thought on Abby and Ethan and Zakk and Torgeir, too, whom she had hunted down the northern road with. Perhaps a bit more luck would run her way.

Perhaps.

[strangelander]

"Hold... I think I see another snare."

Down the damp tunnel, Endisty could see the triprope clearly, but to what it was connected and how it might doom them was not readily clear. She eased past Torgeir's massive torso, feeling the huge barbarian shy away from her gentle brushing as if he were a doe babe and not the giant skirmisher he was. It was his way, however, for though she'd seen the man fell foes with fervor and fearlessness, it seemed his greatest challenge just may lie in the opposite sex.

"It's okay, Tor... here-"

Bolts whistled in at them from the darkness ahead, and Endisty knew what the kobolds had been about all along: the snare was a ruse... a poor piece of rope tied across the floor to delay any intruders and keep them in place while bows could be plied upon them.

Torgeir dashed past her before Endisty even had time to rise from one knee, sweeping her longbow out into hand and reaching back for an arrow. She saw them now, dancing and hooting and swarming towards the barbarian. He raised the two-handed blade he favored and it shone briefly as it caught a bit of light before descending.

Plunk! Plunk!

Endisty sent two arrows out before her as she ran, flipping the bow back over her shoulder and snapping her blade out. The first little reptilian she met she skewered without hesitation from behind, kicking at the flesh to force it from her swordtip before taking a quick moment to unhook her metal kite and get it on her arm. The shield was heavy, but it was a familar weight, and she let it lead her into the fray.

Torger was sweeping back and forth now, clipping a kobold in the jaw messily before that lunge followed out to completely snap through a crossbow being fired upon him, the arm clutching it, and the goggle-eyed face aiming. Endisty swallowed tightly at the gruesome attack but did not falter, instead leaping to the barbarian's side and plying her own slender blade in the narrow space where Torgeir's massive sword was not moving. They worked together like that, as if they'd been campaigning with each other for a score of years or more. The barbarian stepped forward and swung, the girl leaned out and caught the tiny kobold blades that reached for him. Forth and back, they dealt a slow but sure death to the reptilians, until a shrill scream suddenly echoed from the darkness ahead where the tunnel opened into a stalactite-dressed cavern.

In the next instant, everything went dark.

Endisty let out a small scream of her own as something scaly brushed across her swordarm, and she instinctively fell back, tugging her shield up before her. A blade stabbed at her from the side, skirling across her armor and catching in her belt-

"No!" The girl whipped back about, jabbing her sword in the direction of her attacker, feeling the edge strike something that quickly scampered away.

"Endisty!" Torgeir's voice came to her from some distance, and that sent a tickle of fear through her... how did she get so far away from him?!

As if in reply, that shrill screaming sounded again along with a weird hissing, as from a rattle perhaps. The barbarian roared out then, and Endisty stumbled in that direction. Something touched her again, and she struck out blindly, rewarded with a reptilian shriek. The cavern was alive with the sounds of battle now, not the least of which was a furious cranking of many tiny crossbows. The girl darted toward the nearest she'd heared and tripped headlong over something small and stout and hard as stone. As she fell, a wash of bright colors flooded out to one side, illuminating Torgeir clearly as he was hunched over a foe, pulling his sword from a grisly sheathe of scaled flesh. The kobold who'd just loosed that magic gave a frightened yip, realising they could all see again, and it turned tail and fled. Endisty could not follow, had she wanted, for she'd tripped over a strongbox wedged along the rocky floor and landed at the foot of at least five reptilian faces, all with eyes narrowed as they aimed their crossbows down upon her.

"Time to spill some blood!"

Torgeir dashed right over the girl where she lay, sweeping his greatsword out in an unstoppable arc. Furious steel slashed through skinny arm, wrist, chest, arm, arm, clipped right through a jutted jaw, and lodged in the fourth kobold's side with such force that it collided helplessly with the fifth and last, causing it to fire its weapon up at the ceiling and stumble back. Endisty let her shock fuel her as she jumped up and skewered the last stunned opponent even as the barbarian ripped free his blade and proceeded to pummel the life from those foes he'd left squealing and mangled upon the bloody cave floor. She regarded Torgeir quietly as she slowly pulled free her sword, suddenly unsure as she noted his wild eyes and that giddy blood-flecked grin...

Slam!

Both adventurers turned at that, and saw it.

The yapping little witchdoctor who had fled them had just ducked into one of a pair of rotted wooden hovels that squatted in the rear of the cavern, looking very much like ancient miners' barracks that were probably on the verge of collapse or disintegration. Torgeir said nothing but stalked towards the first, bloody blade on one shoulder and a grim glint in his eye.

Endisty darted after him.


* * *


They sat about the small table and spoke easily, the taverntalk around them making a pleasant drone to match the warmth from the chamberpans which the innkeep kept full of long-burning blackwood. Endisty turned the small stone pot of warm tea about in her hand, looking from Abby to Torgeir.

They'd spoken for several hours, the small priestess of Ilmater posing most of the questions, Torgeir speaking in prompt reply. Endisty cared to listen now, for her earlier dealings with a group of rowdy half-orcs spoiling for combat and the stiff-necked sword-major Hawkrune...she'd called him 'sir', pointedly ignoring his title in her unconcious effort to put rigor and order and zealous lawfultry behind her. Him together with the slavering orckin had forced unpleasant memories of the battles at Arabel to the fore, making her wary and nervesome. A curious man had been there with Quendros and Torgeir and another hooded man another called 'Cane." Endisty did not know Aeron, but she had seen the man's dark-etched armor up close when she'd worried for their safety and stepped closer to him, preparing to flee or fight. The plate was of obviously masterwork construction, lined with careful folds and tucks to keep blades from hammering parts free. Swirls of color had been heated into the metal, a not-unpleasant shade of burnt pink and crimson... like a sunrise viewed through the smoke of a burning ruin...

"Endisty? What about you?"

The girl fumbled her tea and glanced up. "Er? What? Sorry." Torgeir and Abby both were looking at her.

"Would you like to hear my tale?", the hulking barbarian had rumbled softly. His eyes were large and thoughtful, and she knew that he needed to speak out. She nodded.

Quietly, he began to tell them.


* * *


The first thing they saw upon entering was the unsteady floor. Pitched to one side where much of the old furnishings had been chopped into pieces and piled up, Endisty twisted and grabbed at Torgeir for support. They both peered through the musky gloom, seeing large silhouettes lining the rough walls... a strangely-shaped table jutting out and at a sharp angle... heavy canvas bags dark with something strung up from a rafter...

There!

A small cluster of kobolds squatted near the very rear of the tilted hovel, the little witchdoctor with his bone necklace and feathered armlet already yipping and shrieking.

"Fight them! Attack!" Endisty let go Torgeir's thick arm and scurried forward, heading straight for the errant reptilian who'd led them inside. The barbarian, too, strode heavily and quickly across the uneven planks, his weapon leading the way.

Too late by a hair, the girl fetched up just as the witchdoctor again let loose a high-pitched yelping, and the world instantly became a black nothing. Blind and panicked, Endisty swung wildly, trying not to scream as she was suddenly battered between several of the foe. Beside her, Torgeir had set eyes upon the gnarled thickly-set of their number who not only bore a great silver ring in one ragged nostril but too was the only of their number to be wearing actual armor. Scavenged from some hapless gnome or halfling, the tiny mail was all the more infuriating.

"TEMPUS!"

Endisty heard the shout, felt a rush of something pass very close to one ear, and hunched down in the hopes that Torgeir did not behead her while she could not see. Unfortunately, one of the kobolds had been waiting for just such an opportunity, and leapt upon the girl's head as she ducked. There came a brief flurry of screams and strikings of metal upon metal, a hearty yelp from the barbarian as one of the sneakier reptilians got in a lucky lick, and then a thunderous crash as Torgeir struck out with his blade and caught the chief in the chest with the hilt on his backswing. Knocked into a row of old crates and leaking barrels, the gnarled kobold leader struggled to gain his feet again while those of his fellows closest to him scrambled to flank. Endisty was not idle during this, and frantically sought to dislodge the creature who was clawing at her hood, seeking her eyes or her tongue. She doubled over and threw herself forward, smacking kobold-on-head first into the only support column in the place, throwing a stunned foe to the floor and causing the sacks hung above to swing about wildly. Coincidentally, the little witchdoctor's eyebite drifted off of her at that moment, and so when she turned to see the others massing around Torgeir who struggled to sink his blade into their chief, she readily came behind them and began laying about with her sword. Gabbling, the witchdoctor yanked the bone necklace he wore from about his neck, either to hurl it or bring upon them some doom or other with it, but Torgeir's huge blade snicked out and took the hand and bauble with it both, leaving the creature wailing in shock. A second blow ended the reptilian's worries for good. Endisty skewered another kobold and nodded when she glimpsed the witchdoctor's fall... rot the little bugger. Luck was with the girl, and she was able to turn and sink her longsword to the hilt through another of them before the chief noticed her from where he was content to let the remnants of his tribe shield his flesh from their seeking blades. Snarling, the tiny foe turned and lashed out at Endisty, his small blade piercing her between her thighplate and hip with a sudden flashing fire.

"Gah!" The girl spun on her foe and smacked him hard with her kite, hunching herself down behind the shield to guard her wound. She was only able to make the clumsiest of attacks in this position, but it was well worth her defense to do so. As if they'd planned their battle strategies aforehand, Torgeir swept down upon the chief from behind as the kobold battered at Endisty's guard, seeking a strike.

The first blow merely spun the gnarled chief about in place, but Torgeir's second clove him from shoulder to hip, leaving the ghastly corpse flopping and spewing and jerking in its death throes at their feet.

Endisty peered up at Torgeir from over the lip of her kite, a pained look upon her face.

They both knew there was undoubtedly another kobold among those in the crowded warren waited to take that fallen one's place.

"Damn witchdoctor bittered my eyes." Endisty had her hood down and was rubbing at her face. All at once, Torgeir's large hands were upon her thigh and waist, gently moving as he inspected the wound there. It was deep but bled freely and cleanly. He carefully held back the plate there and tended to the girl, at the last pressing a cloth from his belt over a sprig of something green that looked like mugwort to Endisty's quick eye before tugging the armor back into place.

For a brief moment, she clung to him that way, her blood on his hand and her hand on his arm.

"Ah.. I.. I- thank you... Torgeir." His name came from her lips as softly as a whisper. She shook her head suddenly and stepped out of his grasp, looking a bit flushed.

"Oh."

The barbarian stood impassively, watching her.

"Sorry", she mumbled, glancing around and seeing for the first a pair of large trunks set against one of the tilted hovel walls.

"You must learn how to use herbs when you live your life on the road." Torgeir spoke quietly as he moved to the weirdly-shaped table they'd seen earlier. Endisty nodded and swallowed and moved to eye the chests a bit closer. They were locked fast with old bolts, but untrapped.

"Look here!" The barbarian's shaken voice startled Endisty, and she whipped out her blade and faced him, searching a foe.

Torgeir stood at the strange table, she saw now that it was a great wooden door battered from its hinges and set upon two crates, poring over a furl of tattered parchment. She moved to stand next to him, keeping her blade in hand, and glanced down. A strange map of crude design was the largest, while the rest atop it and in Torgeir's hand looked to have been ripped from books or written by men.

"They were going to attack..."

Endisty peered at the map again.

"Isinhold."

She saw. "Ah!" The curious scrawl and squiggles made sense now. There was the east ridge... the smithy's forge... that must be the hall where the Red Ravens worked from. She looked up at him.

"That smart captain would be sorry to learn this." Torgeir nodded and carefully pressed the papers into a narrow fold, tucking them away. "Leaving their securities to travelers, indeed." Endisty made a small noise, recalling how they'd spoken with sword-major Hawkrune earlier and how he'd dismissed their worries of such a lair as this exisitng unchallenged so closely to the settlement.

After a moment, Torgeir changed his mind and gave the documents to Endisty, probably recalling their encounter with the man as well. They agreed she would show them to the sword-major, for she'd had more interaction with him than the barbarian...

...so it was that a pair of staunch adventurers penetrated the nearby kobold warrens and put their leader to blades, discovered their wicked doings, and liberated the undoubtedly-stolen garnerings of their paltry treasury. The two would later hie back to Isinhold and, not finding the sword-major on duty, instead hock their loot to several merchants there before deciding to combine their prizes and purchase for the barbarian a magic-worked blade. Glory was in his eyes as he spoke about it, and once Endisty saw that look she could not forbid Torgeir such a worthy reward. He would have his new blade, and the girl would enjoy what he had given her...

She spoke with him all the way to the shop he'd chosen, to where many antiquities and things of an arcane bent were displayed on rack and shelf, in rows and hung from thin chains of brass. Endisty stood looking at some of them while Torgeir dealt with the proprietor.

Friendship was well above any price, gold or otherwise, the girl realised.

She turned to look at him and smiled.

[strangelander]

In the soft dark of the late-of-night, warm in the closed bedchamber, she sat perched on the uncomfortable wooden seat.

He slept, fitfully at first...

Endisty put a hand to the simple clasp at her throat and let her heavy traveling cloak slip from her shoulders to puddle onto the chairback behind her, providing some cushion as she leaned into it and closed her eyes. Torgeir's unconscious cadence held the raggedness of one who had, indeed, overimbibed... she hoped sincerely that he'd be in a proper way come morning.

Or afternoon.

The girl turned her head this way and that, stretching and pulling at her neck muscles which held the most of her tension these days. After a few moments of this, Endisty reached over and snapped Blackblade out of its scabbard, setting its reassuring weight just astride her chair. Just in case. The girl curled up then, setting her head onto one arm and peering at the massive barbarian's silhouette where he lay in a tangle of sheet and blanket, occasionally twitching or flicking an arm about in his slumber.

She'd meant to keep an all-dawn vigil, but...

...after only a minute, she was asleep.


* * *


"Just in case."

Endisty looked at the man strangely but nodded, accepting the pair of tiny paper-covered parcels. Bordor was not usually a gloom and doomsayer, but as acting Chief Physic to the City Mayor, his insistence at handing out small curatives was common enough. The girl pocketed the two bits of Morningflesh... pieces of specially-cured and seasoned boar jerky which had been enspelled with a minor healing and was a favorite with the soldiery under Myrmeen Lhal's command.

Not that there was much of -that- left.

The armies were camped in a half-circle all across the road, in the strike-hot middle between Castle Crag and Arabel. Even from this distance, the folk could see grand plumes of thick smoke rising from where the city's myriad rooftops rose and fell among the fields. They'd been fighting all the tenday long, skirmishing back and forth with groups of orcs who had crawled out to meet them and undoubtedly get their numbers and other information for their own tusk-gnashing captains.

"Sergeant Seasilver, I have a missive from Mas- at ease, sergeant. I have a missive from Master Scout Ambrose and Lord Lhal herself."

Endisty was sitting among the broad circle of her comrades, running a whet up and down her blade and listening to young Shadd's tale of his adventurous mischief before he'd enlisted. At seeing Captain Meade, she'd flown to her feet, snapped her blade into the sheathe at her hip, and given him full salute. Those serving under her direction followed suit, and the captain stared at them as he handed over a thick scroll of paper to the girl.

Bhirder sauntered into the tent a moment later, a jack of soup in his hand and a thick wedge of bread in his mouth.

"Lieutenant Vale, attend." There was a flurry of activity as that one juggled mug, bread, and a rather poor salute. "All of you, at ease. We've got a serious problem going on right now, and Lord Lhal needs a crew of doughties to field an answer." The captain gestured at Endisty and the scroll she had unfurled and was scanning. "The temple district has been breached."

No one spoke: even Bhirder Vale was speechless, which was saying something.

"We all know how much effort will be required to sanctify that area if it is profaned. No need for you all to hear the minister's sermon again, I am certain." Endisty turned and held the scroll out for her charges to view. It was a map of Arabel, with neatly-spaced notes placed here and there, lines limning certain buildings and streets. "You will be one of three teams sent in to flank the main assault. Your duty will be twofold: one, clear a path to the Sister of Sails and two, prevent the Morninglord's House from being burned."

All of them were peering at the map now, calculating distances and numbers of the foe and... potential casualties, no doubt.

"Master Scout Ambrose has also passed along this bit of information: the original sally under Captain Hedge is still alive." He let that sink in as all eyes widened or narrowed and turned his way. "They are holed up in the treasury, presumably awaiting rescue or..."

It had gone hard for all of them since the call had gone out to all enlisted corps across the area, freeing most of the trustees from their current direction so that they could be enlisted by the crown and take their oath to the new babe Obarskyr. All of them had felt the passing of their liege, some quite keenly, though the surviving crown princess had done her best to keep hopes afloat and breathe a new energy into the reclamation efforts. Alusair was exasperating and headstrong betimes but, as ever, she was the rallying standard all respected. Even in her private grief, the woman had turned her thoughts and efforts to free Arabel from the grasping hands of goblin and orc and turntail man. The first engagements between this ragged army and the humanoids had not gone well, not at all. Lord Lhal had been grieviously wounded in bladesfighting and her best spellcaster, Vendrix Yellowcloak, had been downed before he'd even been able to send out his least incantation. The embattled army had been surrounded and, with their leader missing an arm and on her deathcot, it had fallen to her captains to dole out orders and organise a withdrawal. Four separate sallies had been made, with Captain Hedge taking the most dangerous point: the palace grounds were sure to be swarming with goblins and orcs seeking the riches of Arabel... The ploy had worked, however, and Myrmeen was seen safely out of the city along with most of her troops. One division had been lost entirely, snuffed under the terrible ferocities of black arrows and curving black swords, another had been forced into abandoning at least a score of wounded in their flight, while the third had been presumed to be eradicated by the humanoids squatting in the palace. It was no little news that Ambrose had returned to them, and it was a welcome fuel to light them when it came time to return to the city fighting. Here was something they could all sink teeth into, and most willingly.

Endisty spoke quietly with Captain Meade and her lieutenant before she joined her men in preparing kit and pack for the campaign. As she bent over her armor, kicking at one of the too-tight harnesses to get it free, Bhirder stalked up behind her and held out a quiver of silver-fletched arrows.

"Lieutenant?"

The man, usually pranksome and errant and with a bold word or three ready to spring from his handsome smile, had soft eyes now.

"He would have wanted you to have these, sergeant... lady." Endisty's reply caught in her throat. Grover had been the best shot among them, the finest archer she'd ever seen... even her mother... and ever since he'd been cut down in the retreat, she had carried his gear along with her own. The other soldiers had not said anything of it, for Grover had been more than a stoic paragon: he was the only noble any of them had known to voluntarily enter the service.

"Grover Huntsilver...", she breathed softly, taking the quiver slowly.

After only a moment, they came together in a fierce hug, soldiers no longer but simply two folk who grieved a fine fine man, and... possibly... all the fine fine folk who would join him.


* * *


A pair of revelers returning late from their fun crept quietly down the hallway. The Regal Griffon was host to many such folk, for its rooms were cheap and comfortable and, most importantly, free of rats.

As the man and woman passed Torgeir's room, they both heard the faint whimpers clearly. One raised brows to the other, who giggled a bit drunkenly and pantomimed an obscene thing with his hands. The woman burst into giggles, and they moved on.

Within his bedchamber, the barbarian did not move at all. Torgeir lay with all limbs stretched out, his great height and size spreading over the edges of the bed, a single furred boot on the pillow next to his head. From where she was, still curled into the chair, Endisty was quietly lost in her dreaming. She whimpered and her eyes moved behind their lids, but otherwise she seemed at peace.

She wasn't.


* * *


"Private, get over to that wall and mark it."

Endisty stood with her silvery blade out and pointing. Blood decorated her mail, flecked her helm and soaked one of her leather pauldrons completely. Orcs had met them at the entrance to Highover Street, though they were scattered and disorganised. She'd taken one of their charge on her shoulder, gutting him as he tried to get his spearpoint into one of the eyes of her helm. Her cloak and armor stank, but then... the entire city reeked of blood.

"Tyrdon, take Reynaldo and Obar with you and hie to that tavern there. Clear it off and wait." That one scurried to fetch his mates, with the only dwarf of their company giving the girl a single round eye before joining. Obar Turnstone was not above serving a good cause, but it chafed him to take order from a lass. They should be bearing babes and stirring hearths... he snorted brazenly, but followed.

Up the lane, the rest of the contingent could see what lay ahead. Humanoids had done some fierce work in this area, killing all they'd encountered and then using the fallen flesh to paint the stone and wood red. It was a horrible color, dried blood, and one that Endisty wished she were blind to. Bodies were everywhere, some heartbreakingly small, but they had no respite and certainly no time for agonies. A great golden building loomed up at the far end of the street, and even from their distance the company saw clearly the great staring eye of running blood that had been drawn upon it. The building was a temple, not the grand affair that Waukeen's clergy built in Waterdeep, but fine enough. Some of the bronze sculpting, made to look like great scalepans and tradeships, had been torn free from the pitched eaves of the shrine. Smoke rose in thin streamers from somewhere just outside of the place, and Endisty blew harshly on her whistle to round the rest of the men to her.

"We make for the Sister of Sails there and secure the front. Harder, you and Jot take three of your archers and hold this street. We want to make certain none of the foe sneaks in on our guard. Bhirder, I want you and Tymothy to run point and see what of you can of the Glory Road. No fighting... just eyes and ears, hey. Kendall and I will lead the charge into the pavilion. If we are beset, I want you all to make for that tavern there." She gestured with her blade to the Rising Rhyme, where Tyrdon stood in the doorless entry with axe in hand, grimly giving them a nod.

"Lieutenant, did you hear me? Take Tymothy with you." Bhirder was looking across the way at something partially hidden behind an overturned oxcart.

"Alright men, let's get this done. Kendall, if you wouldn't mind..." The thinnish soldier immediately went to Endisty and took her rallying whistle, looping it about his own neck and then brandishing his sword in a quick salute.

"Lieutenant? What bef-" Endisty rounded upon Vale and saw what he was looking at. The body was charred and... unwhole... but she could clearly see the woman had been young and clutched to a bundle yet, even in her deathpose. A single tiny arm stuck out of that bundle.

The sergeant rounded on her lieutenant and clapped him smartly on his breast.

"Lieutenant Vale..." Endisty's voice suddenly grew soft and pained inside her helm. "...Bhirder... please..."

He turned woodenly, without a word, and walked away.

Endisty used everything she had to cling to now, letting images of her smiling father and her beautiful mother flit past her mind's eye... Belbarra cheerful and reaching... young gangly Rory, the first lad she'd ever kissed... her bright orange cat Wriggly... an image of Grover Huntsilver standing in line with men who used to bend knee to him, waiting for a daily jack...

She turned to the group, who had fallen silent.

"Let's get this done. Move out."


* * *


Torgeir rolled over in place, the bed beneath him creaking ominously. The massive figure clutched something to his chest, his own boot it appeared, and murmured something to it in his sleep.

Across from him, Endisty was silent now. She was deep in her dreaming, reliving events in places and with folk from long ago. Her moonlight-colored hair had slipped down across her brow and neck, rolling softly with each shallow breath. Aside her, against the wooden wall, a great blackened blade stood as if guarding over them. The great yellow topaz stuck into its cross glinted once as the weapon suddenly scraped its way down the planks and clattered to stillness.

Neither of them awoke.


* * *


"Where are they, private? WHERE-"

Endisty was shaking the lad now... what was his name? Gods, she'd forgotten even that in the tumult.

The company stood warily in the pavilion, a space used primarily for trademoots just outside the Sister of Sails. Now, it was a strange ruin, turned into a crude forge by orc squatters who were using broken pieces of walls and statuary to smelt down bronze decorations and iron lattice into serviceable weapons and armor. The group who had been working the forge lay where Endisty's men had left them, bent over crude table and bench, some slain with their own creations. Across the plaza, the keen-eyed Jot crouched atop a leaning stone pillar, watching both the street they'd come in at and those that sped away from the site.

Shadd. That was it.

"Shadd... I need you to concentrate. Where did the lieutenant go?"

The small man was probably just a lad, dressed in mail a bit too large for his frame and clutching a shortsword in both hands. Orc blood colored the rest of him.

"He- he chased after the others... when they fled, la- sergeant."

Endisty peered over to Glory Road, its cobbles lit by the glow of fires. Even from here, they could see the Towers of Luck were burning to the flagstones, hot cinders floating down from in cherry-red winks. Though Vale was her second-in-command, he had seemingly abandoned his post and so Endisty had no other choice.

"Kendall, I want you to hold the plaza here. Pitcher, you and Shadd here will raise a banner and field all comers to this spot, clear? Good. Krieg, I need you to run back to that tavern we passed and fetch Reynaldo. He speaks fluent orcish and I want him to question them." She did not gesture, but many heads turned anyway to look on the pair of groggy, beaten orcs who lay bound to each other near the battle-shattered bellows. "We need to know where these things were camped at... not the temple there, but where their orders came from."

Several heads nodded.

"Right. The rest of you split off. I want one group here... the other with me."

As the men moved themselves about, one of the great purple flags showing a rampant dragon and the silver blade beneath it rose raggedly into the air. Shadd shifted unsteadily under the weight, until another soldier came to him and helped him right it up.

Endisty flipped the visor of her helm back into place with her swordarm, the hilt scraping against it and making a sharp sound.

"For Arabel... for Cormyr!"

"For Cormyr!!"

"For Azoun... for Cormyr!"

"For Cormyr!!"

"For freedom... for Cormyr!"

"For Cormyr!!"

Shadd watched them follow her as they went, swords and shields ringing as they all cheered. He clung to the banner and gazed up at it with no small pride.

In the middle of Glory Road, Endisty called the group of soldiers to halt. The Towers of Luck loomed high here, and a hellstorm of falling ash and burning cinders dressed the area. She saw a body hanging out of one of the stone windows several stories above them, could see the black arrow even from that distance. With a grim tone, the girl ordered her charge to split itself again, this time into three. One cluster to remain and see what they could do to keep fires from spreading, one to guard that group as they worked, and the last to follow her. Down the road, where the cobbles split before another grand building and where several fallen humanoids lay dead, Endisty saw them. Vale and several others were chasing a group of orcs, who suddenly darted up the steps to the temple and entered.

"To the Morninglord's House!" She led them quickly and expertly through the burning street, stopping only long enough to shout down the public well and then gesture vividly to Kendall behind her that it was not only open but wet. Without pausing, the sergeant and her crew followed down the street and up the broad stone entry that marked Lathander's temple. Pink marble striated with gold banding was everywhere, though some of it was decorated with crimson sprays... a tremendous burst of spellstuff exploded somewhere in the distance then, illuminating the evening skies with a furl of forest-green and sun-yellow sparks that wriggled and twisted their way across the horizon. Moments later, a rumbling roar sounded. Endisty and her men tore their attention from the flash-and-bang and ducked into the temple.

"Dester, take Wills and hold the doors here." She turned to regard the knot of others. "I want Yuul and Kremtor with me... you rest position yourselves in this first floor and sword anything that moves. I want -nothing- to follow up those." Endisty turned and began up the grand staircase she'd just indicated, and the small stout bald Yuul and looming maulsman Kremtor dogged her steps.

At the landing, the sound of metal ringing rose, then a pitchy but agonising wail. Endisty slapped her blade into its sheathe and ducked off her bow, nocking one of Grover's silver-fletched arrows and letting it guide her way. All at once, a low gruff laughing echoed out from somewhere nearby, followed by another piercing scream. There! That closed door there.

"Lieutenant! Vale!"

Endisty threw herself bodily into the door that was shut between her and that terrible keening, and it splintered roughly before careening open. The chamber inside must have served the headpriest of the temple, for it was both lavish and gaudy. Across the chamber, next to a grand wooden desk of lush zalantar, she saw Tymothy standing stupidly, one arm to his mouth as he looked down at Bhirder. Vale was kneeling on the fine carpet, doing something.

She stalked around the wide table set there and smelled the stink even as her eyes saw.

An orc lay dead just at Tymothy's foot and Bhirder sat upon another, holding it down. The man had taken one of the ornate iron braziers that decorated the chamber and had trapped the orc's arm in its curling cage, the oilfire within licking furiously about its blackened hand.

It was screaming terribly, wailing and gnashing and sounding hauntingly like a human girl.

"Vale!" She was horrified. "Lieutenant STOP!"

Tymothy regarded his sergeant with wide eyes and stood stock-still, his own blade out before him and dripping. He looked as frightened as the orc who lay dead at his feet, and Endisty waved him away with her bow.

"Damned tusker!" Bhirder jabbed the brazier viciously, then grinned savagely at the fresh squeals.

"Bhirder get OFF OF IT! MOVE, SOLDIER!"

That gave the lieutenant pause, but not much. Yuul entered the chamber then, appraising the scene hesitantly. Kremtor stomped his way in just after, immediately gagging loudly.

"Turn away lass", Vale said with frightening calm. "You don't have to see this."

Beneath him, the orc seemed to sense what was about to happen, and it bucked violently under its tormentor.

Vale moved suddenly.

Endisty fired.

The aim was a bit off... she'd been going for the arm holding the brazier, but instead Grover's wonderful arrow sped up and true, sinking deeply into Vale's stretching neck.

No one moved.

"Ggg- gg-" Bhirder was trying to speak, spitting blood out and down onto the half-dead orc beneath him. The brazier slipped away and rang loudly against the floor, and the orc immediately curled away and about its charred fist, shaking.

"...ggg-"

Endisty did not know what to do. The wound was terrible and would be fatal. She- she could not let her lieutenant agonise.

She dropped her bow on the floor and drew her silvery blade.

Tymothy, shaking as badly as the orc, turned away and into the folds of the soft wool wallhanging there.

With a quick flash, it was done.

Kremtor and Yuul both stood there in shocked silence, looking between Tymothy who was crying now and the Endisty as she bent to tend the writhing orc...


...it had been a terrible return to camp, that night. No one spoke all the way back, and though Endisty marched right behind the four men who carried her lieutenant's body wrapped in the very wallhanging Tymothy had wept upon, she did not look at it.

The law of the land was clear.

It took some time, for they were all yet embroiled in the task of freeing Arabel from her invaders. The warring went on for another three months, and Endisty was made to spend the rest of that time tending the wounded in the white tents under Chief Physic Bordor's command. She was spoken of only in the lowest of whispers now, turned from that flashy up-and-coming sergeant into a spectre of betrayal in one sorry night. For her part, Endisty bore the hushed gossip and her grim duty quietly, and not even Bordor would have words for her. She did not cry when she was alone in her bunk at night, not even when the worst of her memories rose up to claw at her. She held herself tightly, not certain what future lay ahead of her. Treason was treason, no matter the cause. Mayor Lhal and Lady Winter both were known for their hard impartiality, and for their absolute devotion to the crown.

It was worse than she'd imagined.

Finally, after all the battledays were done and the divisions had split to the winds, gathering themselves back to wherever they'd come from, Endisty's fate was known.

It was a bright and clear day for it, the sunshine and pleasantly crisp blue sky weirdly out of place for the occasion. They were assembled just outside Tessaril's own tower, where the corps usually held ceremonies and the like. A great boulder was there, and made central to the day's event, for it was rumored to be the star that had fallen from the skies and gave the place its name. She was marched through the ring of her peers and, though she kept her head low, Endisty did not fail to notice that they were all decked in full uniform. A trio of sharp hornbleats sounded out, marking the beginning of the trial.

She stood still and unmoving before them all throughout the proceedings, her hands clasped to her stomach, the bright white peacebond tying the hilt of her silver blade to her belt waving gently in the breeze. Endisty wondered dully if her parents were there in the crowd, somewhere, and chided herself. Of course they were not there. A traitor's family would be scorned, perhaps even moreso than herself. Gods...

"Will the accused please look up."

[strangelander]

This was it. Endisty swallowed tightly, squeezed her eyes shut tight for a brief moment, and then looked.

Lady Tessaril Winter stood next to her aging footman, and a man she knew only by name and descript just next to him. Commander Ghizer. Ah... so Myrmeen had sent her personal attendant to relay the sentence. Grand. The mistress of Eveningstar cleared her throat briefly and set flinty eyes upon Endisty directly.

"Sergeant Seasilver. You are accused of treason, of purposefully killing one Lieutenant Bhirder Vale. How is it that you answer this charge?"

The crowd seemed to turn upon her as one. She swallowed again.

"Guilty, milady." There was a quiet murmur throughout. "I... I am guilty."

Lady Winter regarded her for a moment, then took one measured step back. Commander Ghizer sighed briefly, his long sideburns framing a steady frown. He spoke next.

"Sergeant Seasilver, the details of the event are known to Lord Lhal, and she has sent me to convey her ruling in this matter to you, to all of you." More murmurings drifted through them, but the commander ignored it.

"Have off your blade."

Endisty expertly tugged the peaceknot free, let the slip of white silk float away as she slipped the blade from its scabbard and handed it hilt-first to one of the guards flanking them. He, in turn, set the weapon down upon the broad, faintly-bluish boulder next to them all with a faint ringing.

"Your sword is your honor, sergeant."

Commander Ghizer hooked a finger, and the stone-faced guard he signaled nodded once, hefted a huge iron hammer high, and brought it down.

Endisty's blade shattered with a weird shriek, and she could not help but jerk at the sound.

"You have dishonored yourself, your family, and your country, once-sergeant. You are hereby stripped of your command and your duty. You may walk these lands as your own, but you are never to apply to post again, nor are you welcome to collect a soldiering pension. You shall pay over the sum of five thousand gold coins of this country's minting to the family of one Bhirder Vale. If you cannot provide this amount, arrangements will be made with this court."

She stood there, staring at the silvery shards of her career.

"Do you understand the words spoken here?"

Endisty gave a measured nod. "Yes, I do."

Tessaril stared at the girl. She, too, knew the entire circumstances of this soldier's actions.

"You have been spared the stocks or a dungeon cell only on the merit of your history with the armies of this country, once-sergeant. If you ever strike a soldier of this kingdom again, you shall forfeit the decision of this court to spare you. Do you understand my words?"

Endisty could not stop looking at her sundered blade.

She nodded.

"Good. You will be given one tenday to set your affairs in order. You are to meet the exchequer of Lady Winter's garrison and make arrangements for the restitution sum, and then you are to remove yourself from this village and not return for the period of at least one year. Is that understood?"

"Yes."

"Good folk of this country, know you that Lord Lhal appreciates your attention to this matter, and your continued support in the coming months. Rebuilding efforts will require all of our aid, whether by arm or blade or coin. Please see- ", the commander coughed a quiet query to Lady Tessaril, who whispered back, " -please see goodman Tzimmer here at the tower if you can help in any way. Good day and may the gods shine down upon this great nation of ours. This court is dismissed."

The crowd ushered Commander Ghizer out with a roar of applause, and some of them immediately went to where Lady Tessaril's scribe stood with open book and poised quill, waiting.

...and that was it. The end of Endisty's career and the beginning of her haunted road. That Lord Lhal's commander would end the affair with a political gambol was no longer the concern it once might have been. All of her savings thus far and then some, including every last coin she'd earned in service to her country, would be tallied and sent in a plain wooden coffer to the gray-faced parents of her lieutenant. She sighed and set herself straight again, trying not to feel just how weightless her hip moved with an empty scabbard.

A plump figure among the crowd watched the girl turn, flanked by armed soldiers, and march the short hill to Eveningstar's garrison.

When Belbarra turned to look at the stone where Endisty's sword lay shattered, tears were in her eyes.


* * *


The girl awoke with a groggy start, the first thing in her sights was one of Torgeir's huge feet poking out from under the too-short blanket.

Endisty brushed at her hair sleepily, tucked the stray locks back behind one ear and unfolded herself from the chair.

The tatters of her dreaming faded even as she came to wakefulness, though their contents left a dull ache in her breast... as usual. She glanced past the arm of the chair.

"Oh!" She sprang up then, searching.

"There you are." Endisty plucked Blackblade up and gently sank it into its scabbard. The sword was new and strange, but...

...it was hers, fully-earned and hers alone.

She stretched once before turning to regard Torgeir, wondering idly if there was any breakfast to be had.

There was.

[strangelander]

They'd stood for some time on that low hill, watching the silent moonrise and speaking quietly.

Endisty did not know Kain all that well, in fact Torgeir was truly the only person she'd confided in... she sighed softly and leaned back against the tilting stone wall, what once must have been a grand watchtower of the keep beneath but was now a collapsed ring of piled rock and moss and ancient memories. They'd spoken for a bit, the gallant sir Phalanx having sought the girl's ear after Endisty and Torgeir had returned from the smithy's and not a little bladeswork of their own. Tor had had to tend to something, and as Endisty opted to await him at the Regal Griffon, she'd chanced to meet Kain once more. He'd invited her out for an evening stroll and she'd readily accepted, for nothing soothed her more in all the realms than the softly glowing smile of sweet Selune. They'd spoken, of course, on the sword-major and the myriad troubles which Isinhold endured lately. Endisty had made no attempt to hide her disdain of Hawkrune's seemingly blind acceptance of such folk as the orckin who had been sauntering through town lately, but Kain gave her some wisdom on the subject despite herself-

A sudden noise startled her from her musings, and Endisty turned quickly to see.

The darkness parted some ways away, near another of the ruined watchtowers, revealing to the girl a lithe young woman gowned in an exceptional white dress and turning with angular grace to stare at Endisty. Her eyes... they were so dark...

She stared back.

"Travelers should be wary of going alone in the night... don't you think?"

Something about the woman's eerie grace made Endisty wary, and she did not pretend to ignore the way the dappled moonbeams seemed to shy away from this strange nightgoer's pale skin. Suddenly, it struck the girl she'd seen those dark eyes before!

Endisty opened her mouth to reply, when a curious mist suddenly boiled up all around her, curling fingers through the cool evening and laying them toward her. The girl hissed softly and whisked her blade out, turning in place.

She was gon-

The woman reappeared so suddenly on her other side that Endisty nearly dropped her blade.

"Gah! Who... what are you?!"

She vanished again, a thin gauzy blur one moment throwing back a knowing smile, and then... nothing.

Endisty breathed a quiet prayer as she turned and darted for the low slope that ran down part of the ruined keep to meet where the road had been laid. Behind her, the night quivered and birthed a small bat, which gave an eerie piping and winged out and away.

She watched the creature disappear to the northern heights, from where she crouched in the ancient keep entry.

She had seen those eyes before.


* * *


Endisty crept closer to the wall and hugged its uneven length.

She breathed a quiet prayer to Lady Fortune as she leaned out and wedged her blade into the dark gap between the stones, pushing.

The strange horizontal door was counterweighted, and even at Endisty's light pressure the two halves ground apart, exposing the mouth of another passage beyond. It widened almost immediately into a chamber that burned with a single sad flicker from somewhere around the corner.

The crypt had terrified her at first, with the restless dead wandering about unchecked... a particularly harrowing encounter with one of the bony mages had stricken the girl with a voiceless terror: the thing had snared her in its spellwork and then stood over her, gloating in its weird voice, clawing at her held flesh slowly and gruesomely while she lay upon the floor...

Endisty shook that dark memory away and recalled how she'd returned to that part of the crypt, sussed out the very skeleton that had tormented her, and smashed it into pieces. She nearly smiled then, and let -that- memory warm her heart and her bladehand.

"Mommy?"

Endisty's bravery and resolve melted as that single word echoed out from the chamber before her, turned her breathing to sodden gasps and caused her heart to bound and leap against the walls of her chest like some caged beast...

"Where are you, mommy?"

The voice was so very much like a child's that the girl moved quickly out of the mouth of the passage and strode into the chamber directly. She saw him immediately: a small boy, dressed in dusty shortpants and a linen shirt, standing amid a scatter of toys and looking very much like one of the village children from above that had gotten himself lost in the crypts below. Endisty frowned and went to him, calling softly.

"All is well, here... to me." The toys looked gruesome up close, like tiny men made of bones, and the child's appearance was likewise grim so near. He looked to be no more than six winters old, and as she neared him Endisty could not help but note the dark eyes ringed by darker circles that looked up at her pitifully.

"Mommy!"

Several things happened at once, then. The boy rushed at Endisty, reaching, while from behind her the strange stone door loudly shut itself closed again. The girl ran Blacksword into its sheathe and caught the child in her arm, protectively, while glancing back at the shutting passage.

"All is well now. He-" Endisty's words dropped curtly as the child she held leaned down and bit onto her forearm. Clad in her armor, she could feel the tiny mouth scraping, and then...

A fiery pain lit her, stole her breath and her logic even as she knew she must rescue the lad... she threw him away from herself. Endisty's mouth hung open in shock, her arm a bright agony as the child rose up from the floor and smiled at her, dragging one sleeve across his mouth.

"Get her!"

The boy's voice was still young and coy but carried a hard edge now. At his command, the tiny toys Endisty had frowned at earlier began to pull themselves upright into a wide circle that turned as one to face her where she stood, slowly backing away and shaking her head in denial.

Endisty turned and ran.

The little boy and his bone men gave chase, some of them sending out tiny arrows from the miniature bows they carried, others clutching to small spears of wood and flint.

The girl's arm stung abominably, as if the child had planted daggers there and not simply his teeth. She could not understand how it was he had bit -through- her armor... but Endisty was not thinking clearly. She dodged past a pair of sprite-sized arrows and jammed her good hand between the lips of the stone door, using the gauntleted limb to force them apart.

The doors eased open slowly, grinding.

"We're gonna kill you... we're gonna kill you..."

The child was singing now, his giggling all the more horrifying for its innocent sound. Endisty tried to focus on escaping, for she knew deep in her gut she could not swing a blade at a youth... not even...

She turned suddenly and wrenched the door shut again with all of her weight, hearing something splinter with a satisfying wrack. Endisty took a moment to get her shield on her arm, wondering idly what the booming echo was until she realised it was her own ragged breathing. Beyond the mouth of the passage and the weird horizontal door, she could hear the child crying out.

"Not fair!"

Endisty shakily tried to call the prayer of Goodness Vies to her mind, but even that least protection against the evils of the world was shaken apart for her fear.

The stone doors shifted then, started to open...

She turned and ran down the passage, back the way she'd come, Blacksword bouncing on her hip and her life beating furiously in her heart, her head, and her throbbing arm. Endisty fled the dark-eyed child, made her way back through the twisting halls and up into waning daylight. As she turned and moved slowly, painfully, for the stone dais set into the hillside beneath the enormous tree, the last of the day's light winked along the rooftops below. Endisty silently gave her thanks to Fortune's Maid for Her succor, for surely it had been Tymora's goodwill that had allowed the girl to slip from the wicked child's grasp.

"Welcome, lady, to the wonders of Silvanus. Can I help you this evening?"

Endisty clutched her wounded arm to her chest and nodded, shivering.


* * *


The bat had flown off toward the northeast, she was nearly certain.

Endisty gathered herself and moved steadily, purposefully back along the road until she could see one of Isinhold's watchmen going through his paces.

She allowed herself to relax, and thought on what to do next. After a few moments of consideration, the girl headed for the Regal Griffon, all thoughts of moonlight strolls upon ruined battlements flown from her mind.

Endisty marched into the inn and made straight for the messageboard there. Though her eyes were haunted for her recent encounter with the strange child, her arm moved strong and purposefully as she put the words of a missive to slate.

[strangelander]

"Lady Fortune! Aid me!"

The sounds of battle rang out clear and sharp in the damp undertunnels, the constant dim echo of murmuring waters punctuated by the harsh and tinny exchange of swordblows on axe and shield.

Endisty was a solitary shadow there, her dented and scraped armor occasionally winking as she darted back and forth among them, getting her blade into orc flesh as she could. Four of the creatures stood staring at her warily from one tunnel mouth as the girl cut down their fifth, a gibbering shaman of their one-eyed god.

"Come on... come on!"

She stood goading them with her bared blade, still bloody from their fallen brothers. They turned and grimly stalked towards her.

Endisty watched them come, but her eyes were glazed with pain and memory, and as the four stocky humanoids reached for her the tunnel grew bright with dayglow...


* * *


"Have down, sergeant! Come 'round!"

She stood at the mouth of Runner Lane, her silver-and-black cloak of station billowing softly back as another fireswept breeze caressed the southwest district streets. Parts of Arabel were aflame but, in the afternoon sun, Endisty thought the runnels of fire looked like molten gold limning those buildings. She blinked to clear the smoke from her eyes, twisted back to look at the soldier who had just called out to her.

Reynaldo stood holding a bleeding man upright by his arms, looking her way. Endisty frowned and went down the little incline to meet them.

"What happened?", she asked brusquely, lifting the wounded soldier's head up to identify him. It was Pitcher. He would live.

"Got himself shot by a sharp-eyed tusker." Reynaldo shifted his burden under the sergeant's scrutiny and could not help but notice the broad smear of char decorating Endisty's breastplate where it swelled generously in a way no man's armor would. "Where ya been to, sergeant?" She glanced up, saw his stare, and frowned.

"The Arabel Lodge barracks is a burned shell... nothing is left there." She ran searching fingers down Pitcher's left side as he groaned quietly and tried to stir in Reynaldo's arms.

"Ah... here." The stub of a broken quarrel shaft was hid amid the blood and torn chain links just aside the man's lung. Endisty cupped a hand gently over to mark the spot and rummaged through her belt with the other. Reynaldo watched impassively but could not hide his surprise when the girl raised something up in her free hand. It was not an issue poultice nor a bit of healing magic... no.

It was a gold piece.

Endisty held the old yellow crown as if it were a precious jewel, and brought it to her lips.

"Lady Fortune, I ask for your succor."

Wisely, Reynaldo remained silent as the girl touched the coin to where she still guarded Pitcher's wound. With a quick movement, surprisingly quick for one clad in full battle mail, Endisty jerked the stub of the quarrel out and pressed the gold piece over the burble of blood that followed. Pitcher gave a low moan and twitched, but Reynaldo held him fast. In another moment, it was done: beneath the rent in his armor, the angry tear in the soldier's flesh slowly, grudgingly closed itself.

"L-lass... sergeant. I- I did not know you to be a healer."

She'd looked up at him, fresh blood on her arm and cheek, Reynaldo's eyes lit by the distant fires and the waning day. On another day long ago, with Arabel similarly fraught with peril and madness as the very gods walked down among the lands and fields of men, Tymora Herself had entered the city and given good counsel to Her layfolk. Word of such a wonder had spread quickly, reaching Eveningstar and the Gale farm and the impressionable girl there. Jacoby had always tried to instill his own good values in his daughter, and Lady Luck was ever among them. So it was that Endisty had embraced the wisdom of Tymora, had known that, even after all those barely-restrained Powers walking amongst them had been set back up in Their true places once more, She had left Her mark upon one quiet young half-elven girl: Patron of those giving themselves to risk and chance, Provider of respite to those who gave themselves to wandering and to throwing their lots to bold plan.

"He'll be right up again, Reynaldo. Hold to him."


* * *


She looked down at him, the bent sprawl of dirty flesh covered in twisting designs, tattoos venerating his belief.

The shaman's hand was curled about something...

Endisty saw a glint there, caught a rounded edge of something soft and metallic... a symbol of some fashion.

The orcs came slowly for her, stepping around the fallen priest with such a queer delicateness that the girl almost laughed. One held a poorly-made axe in two hands, another kept fists knotted about a short spear of battered iron. The third fetched up behind those two and grunted quietly, while the last actually sneered at her and spoke.

" 'U ku", he growled at her.

During her stint with the Eveningstar corps, Endisty had been specifically tutored in the language of orckind and in what knowledge of their tribal ways could be had. Her command of the humanoids' tongue was not as great as Reynaldo's, but it would do.

"Orhaho tohanr... ku. Ku."

The orc leaned heavily on the notched sword he carried, one foot placed almost protectively upon the fallen shaman's hand. He had seen Endisty peering at the beaten bronze symbol there, the Sigil of Gruumsh. Endisty did not chafe at the orc's growled words. They did not want to fight, it seemed... they wanted her to go.

Females of most species were regarded as good for one, possibly two tasks. It was rare that one, especially of such a weak and sneaking race as humans, would be spared her life much less given such a title as that one had just called the girl.

Endisty did not bristle, but rose up straight, leveling her blade at the orc who had addressed her.

She shook her head slowly, not bothering to reply for she would not have the filthy taste of their dirty language in her mouth. Grimly, Endisty started for the nearest, eyes narrowing.

Female Death, he had called her...

...and she was.


* * *


She slept fitfully, tossing upon the worn pallet that served her as bed.

Endisty and Torgeir had spent a good while sussing out the chief who lorded over the orcs squatting in the twisting underground tunnels. A deep and slow-moving waterbed only helped the clan make their living in the wilds, sustained them with fish and fungi when errant travelers and wandering animals could not be snatched from the road. The gateguard at Isinhold had warned them of orcs prowling the hills east of town, but the pair of adventurers had only welcomed the threat, the lass possibly moreso than her barbarian companion could guess.

After Torgeir and Endisty had had their fill of battle and gone back up to the road, the barbarian departed to his own errands.

She had wanted to return to town...

...but she had gone back down instead. Back down to take advantage of the leaderless chaos, to feel again her blade plunging into slow-to-yield orc flesh...

Dirty, ugly, conniving, grasping, thieving, foul-mouthed and foul-minded orcs.

She hated them.

Even her slumbering was not without that bitter crimson-touched emotion, that somehow -orcish- sensation that both burned her mouth and her mind and left her needing to slake her thirsty swordarm with some fine slaying. Wherever she went, the girl carried with her that burden. That need. In her waking, Endisty heard only a whispering urging her to seek out any orcs nearby and confront them.

In her sleep, however, that whispering was a booming command.

She'd fought orcs for as long as she could recall, knew their battle strategies as well as any of their own tattooed guardians. All of their foul little secrets had been overturned for her perusal during the long training Endisty had received in the corps: every last disgusting thing, from what a hands-painted-white tusker meant (a maggot-worshiping dog of Yurtrus, 'ware his diseased touch!) to the significance of a red-flag-bearing orc sentinel (they seek to kidnap fertile females for rutting, mind!)... All of her lessons had been well-learned by the time Endisty had been relieved of corps duty and enlisted in the army of Cormyr to be sent to Arabel and fight in a losing battle to save the city. There, in that blood-washed place of death and dire, those lessons and those new experiences had joined together, fomenting a deep and enduring enmity towards all things orc and orckin.

Yes, she hated them.

The price of Endisty's blind wrath had yet to be counted, but it was already known that she'd let go many good opportunities and seen many good things sour for her unquenchable bloodthirst. In the deep and quiet depths of her sleeping mind, however, the girl could not hide away her true feelings nor her truest thoughts.

As always, Vale was there, smiling around the arrow in his throat.

Endisty was in the middle of a dream-battle, swinging mighty blows at the many orcish dream-foes who stood around her, not quite attacking, not quite fleeing. As her dreams usually went, she was slaughtering them in turn, unchecked, unchallenged.

Bhirder sat nearby on a few of the piled fallen, clapping and laughing merrily and urging her on.

She wished he would go away, but he was always there, that damn silver-fletched arrow making his words strangely accented.

She wished he would go away.

He never did.