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aoriethetheif-blog · 7 years

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"The temple is under attack by a red dracolich in the shadow realm. This dracolich is why the temple has never been returned to our realm. There is a High Priest that keeps the dragon away from the temple but as long as it threatens he cannot return the temple. So, I study dragon lore and search for spells that will help me get to the temple and destroy the dracolich." They discussed other things while they finished eating. Aorie was just passing the last bit of hers to Shima, when the door of the taproom was kicked violently open. In the door stood a bald dwarf with half his face and head covered in old burn scars. His bright blue goatee reached past his belt, and he glared at Aorie and Shima with fire in his green eye, the other had a milky film and was partially buried in the scar tissue. Draga followed the dwarfs glare to find the drow wearing a merry grin and the dwarf trying to smother a laugh. "Commander," Aorie called. "You are looking well this morning. Did you change your beard? I like it!" Shima almost repressed a snort. The Commander started towards them roaring, "Ye did this," he lifted his beard, "Ye damned troublesome half-drow. Ye've been a pain in me backside all yer damned life. Tell me one good reason I shouldn't just put an end yer endless pranks and run ye outa me city!" Shima had slid under the table; it heaved with her suppressed mirth. Draga and River tried to clear the table before something fell off and broke. Aorie stood and fearlessly met the enraged dwarf commander in the middle of the room. She picked up the end of his beard, rubbed it between her fingers and showed the blue tips of her dark fingers to the dwarf. "This is a comb in color. When have I ever combed your beard?" She asked with infuriating calm. "What's that got to do with it? Ye're a sneaky one," the captain roared. "Which is why you pay me enormous piles of gold to catch thieves for you," she replied dryly. "But does not explain how I dyed your beard. So, why do you think I had anything to do with this." "Where were ye last night? Did ye go to Dwarftown? And just how do ye know this is a comb in job done on me beard?" "Look around," Aorie said, rolling her eyes. "I live in a brothel. I do the hair of many of the...employees on my off days. Of course I know about hair stuff. That stuff in you're beard will wash out next time you take a bath. And I was on the wall last night, per your orders." She slipped into a good impersonation of the commander's brogue, "Humans ain't no good on the durned wall on moonless nights. Ye round up them as can see for the new moon. And be there yerself." "BATH! I have to take a BATH to fix this," he bellowed. "Baths make ye sick. And me armor will rust!" Shima's laughter filled the room. Draga and some of the other patrons joined her. And the commander's anger was redirected. He stomped over to the table and drug Shima out from under it. "What're ye laughing at ye damned unnatural dwarf?" River had taken refuge in the rafters, as Draga returned the rescued crockery to the twins, who stood behind the bar, enjoying the show. "Aren't you guys going to break this up?" Bardo smiled at him, "Our guard Commander is only happy when he is yelling. Those two are his favorite targets, and they seem to enjoy upsetting him. He's not going to do anything but yell. And our gossip mongers," he pointed with his chin at a table full of well dressed patrons, "will talk about this for weeks. He usually keeps his fits in Dwarftown or the barracks." "Dwarftown?" Draga asked. "There are a couple hundred dwarves in the Citadel. They have their own district in the city's warren of tunnels," Zaria answered. Shima was sputtering, "Captain Bluebeard, you seem to have lost your eyepatch. Would you like me to go find you a new one?" It was only then that Draga noticed Shima did not carry the typical dwarvish accent. "See," Bardo said to Draga, "They can't help but wind him up. They say he takes himself too seriously. He'll be renamed throughout the city by the end of the day. The rest of the guard will take up the joke and present him with soap and eyepatches for a month or more." "Then, he'll most likely keep the color." Zaria told him, "The Guarda need the laughter, and he knows it. They are the ones charged with keeping peace in the city. They have to deal with all the horrors some people do to others and not become horrors themselves. Its hard on them." "Ye're both fired!" The commander declared. And with that, he left, slamming the door. Bardo said, "Now those two will spend the next month or two gambling, and starting bar fights. And there will eventually be some huge robbery, or murder that the rest of the Garda can't figure out. And he'll come stomping in here to get them back on the job, because they really are some of his elite." He grinned. And called out, "I think he means it this time, Aorie." "He means it every time," Shima answered for her friend, still laughing. "You want me bouncing the rabble out tonight?" "How many times has he fired you," River asked. "This makes five," Aorie said still wearing that tiny half smile the seemed to be a permanent fixture on her face. She yawned. "I'm tired. You guys still want an escort up to the monastery?" She looked at Draga. "Elite?" He looked at Bardo. "What kind of elite soldier lives in a brothel and plays childish pranks on superior officers?" "We've lived in many places," Zaria told him. "So, I would say, with some certainty, all of them. Soldiers, garda, watch, or whatever the local name for them, usually spend most of their off duty time in brothels much less genteel than this one. And they all play pranks on each other. People who depend on each other in the way the Garda do become family, but since they would feel awkward with traditional familial shows of affection, they play pranks." "Ok," Draga said slowly. He looked to Aorie, "When do we go see Grand Master Castellen?" "Give us four hours," she told him. "Explore the city, and meet us here. I'll send word up to Grand Master Castellen so he'll be expecting us this afternoon." Chapter 2

Aorie was dressed in tan breeches and a bright yellow blouse that made her eyes seem gold. Shima had thrown a green tabard over her armor that made her eyes look like sea foam. She carried a large covered basket that Draga assumed held the strawberries that the twins had asked them to carry up to the monastery. "Grand Master Castellen is expecting us for the midday meal. Shall we?" Aorie said, gesturing with a sun hat that matched her blouse towards the door. They walked up a slight rise though blueberry fields that were just waking from their winter slumber to the monastery. River danced and played in the fields as if glad to be free of the city. "What is she doing?" Aorie asked. Draga smiled gently, watching his fey companion. "She is fey. Her life is closely tied to nature, specifically to rivers, but all things in nature call to her. She is putting her blessing on the fields and most likely playing with other fey that live here," Draga replied. And at Aorie's raised eyebrow continued. "Most fey use their glamour to remain unseen by 'the big folk' as they call us. But, they can see each other. River decided to travel with me for reasons she has never explained. She knows I won't let any of the other big folk bother her so feels safe using the glamour to make herself look like a halfling or gnome." The gates of the monastery were open. He could see that when they were closed they would show the symbol of Ilmater, pale hands bound with a red cord. Just inside the gate, they were greeted by a young accolite, "Miss Aorie, Miss Shima, who have you brought to us today?" "A priest of Denier, interested in the library," Shima answered. "Brought some strawberries from the Widow in thanks for helping out our girls this morning, too." The lad grinned, "I'll make sure most of them get to the temple." "Where is Brother Abbott?" Aorie asked. "He took over the Grand Master's dining room this morning. I don't know what he is preparing but it smells wonderful. May I join you?" he answered. "Not today, Brother Joist. Maybe next time," Aorie sounded strange. There was a slight nervousness to her voice. When the boy had gone, Draga asked, "Joist is some carpentry thing, isn't it?" That got a laugh from Aorie, who had not said much since leaving the inn. He did not know her well, but she liked to talk, he knew. Her silence worried him. "His brother's names are Dowel and Mantel. Their father was a carpenter," her tone was the same dry amused one she had used when talking of her salary, "and wanted his boys to take up the trade. I think the oldest, Dowel, will. The boys came here when a fever took their parents," her tone was now matter of fact, as if this was were all the orphans came. And when he thought about it, he'd seen very few beggar children when he and River had explored part of the city. "Are there many orphans here?" Draga asked. "Ilmater loves children," Shima answered. "So, the Garda brings the kids that have nowhere else to go here. At least half the people in the Citadel have lived here or have friends who have." They continued across the courtyard to what looked to be an oversized barracks building. Shima pointing out different buildings and their purpose and greeting friends as they went. Aorie had gone silent again. Inside the barracks, they went up a stair on the right, and down a hall when they heard a weird noise, sluup-pop, sluup-pop. Aorie signaled to Draga to stay put, she had a dagger in her hand. Draga never saw where she had been keeping it. She moved around a bend in the wide hallway, Shima next to her with what looked like a cut down halbard, axe on one side balanced by a hammer head on the other. They looked up. Aorie relaxed, the dagger vanished and she sounded disgusted when she said, "What in nine hells are you doing here, gnome?" She held up a hand. "No, I really don't want to know. Do the Brothers know you are in the Monastery?"

#drow #dnd #half-dragon

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aoriethetheif-blog · 7 years

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“Everyone knows Grand Master Castellen.” She smirked as if she had said something funny, so did the dwarf. “Well,” she said briskly, “you two are the last. Time to go.” She ducked into the postturn door and called out. Another guard came out and took up the dwarf’s post. Once they were all out of sight of the gate, the drow turned, walking backward so she could talk to Draga, “I’m Aorie Altair, by the by, and the sergeant here is Shima Ironwing. Do you want to go to the monastery first or get settled in rooms?” Before he could answer a roar went up from the barracks area, one street over. “ALTAIR!” The drow’s grin widened, she took a rope from her belt and clipped it to her friend’s. She stowed her beret in a coat pocket. “I’m sorry, we’ll have to meet you at the Widow.” The dwarf spread her wings and took off pulling the now levitating drow along. Draga looked at the departing figures, bemused, before spreading his own black wings and following. They all landed in the large courtyard of the Wandering Widow. It was rather large for an inn, looking more like a huge manor house than any inn he’d ever seen. Shima scowled at him as she unhooked the drow’s rope. But she turned on the drow, “Why didn’t you tell me you did it? You were supposed to let me know!” Aorie’s face turned serious, “I got distracted by the boy, the pickpocket. He needs…I don’t know…” She sighed looking off into the distance. Shima grunted. Turning to Draga, still scowling, “You said you were human and that she was a halfling. Were you lying about your purpose in my city also?” “Peace, Shima.” Aorie said, her near constant smile back in place. “They are simply more interesting now. Besides, would you have done any different.” She turned to Draga, “What is your interest in the Monastery, Priest of,” she reached up and tapped his medallion; the holy symbol of his god, “Denier?” He was two feet taller than her so the medallion hung just above her head. “I’m doing research on a vanished temple called Spirit Soaring. It is thought to have been transported to the shadow realm during the first days of the Spellplague. I believe Denier wants me to bring it back. The Monastery of the Yellow Rose has the largest collection of dragon lore in Faerun.” “What does that have to do with your vanished temple?” Shima growled. “Let’s go inside. This looks to be a long story. And long stories go best with food and wine,” grinned Aorie. River spoke up, tentatively, “Isn’t it early for wine? I thought there were customs about that.” Another laugh from Aorie, “There are, little one, but who cares about that. It’s been a long night on the wall and a cold one.” They entered the exclusive taproom. The dining areas were spacious and semi-private with curtains along the sides of the booths. The kitchen area bustled through wide double swinging doors. There was a curving bar winding along a long wall with stairs spiraling lazily up at either end and a shrine to Sune was set up in an elevated alcove in the wall behind the bar. Quiet music permeated the room from a hidden minstrel. There were a few well dressed people having breakfast at some of the tables, served by a pair of brown skinned half-elven twins. The female’s hair was black and curled down her back in ringlets. She wore a rather small uniform; a very short black skirt and red vest open over a thin white blouse that left her midriff bare. Her brother’s uniform was similar; tight black breeches and a red vest open over a bare chest. His black hair was loose and straight down his back. They were both barefoot and moved through the room like they were dancing. “This is a very pretty room,” sighed River. Draga’s eye fixed on the shrine. “This is a brothel,” he said flatly, frowning down at his guides. Aorie’s grin answered his frown. “This is an inn, a tavern, a place where needs are met, excellent food and wine, clean rooms, a bathhouse and lovely people to meet those needs. If you feel a need for something more…that, too, can be arranged for those who can afford it.” Her grin widened as his frown deepened. “The twins,” she nodded at the servers, “are Heartwarders of Sune. They make sure this place is full of beauty and everyone leaves pleased. This does not always involve coupling. Some find pleasure in food, some in drink, some in a hot bath. Some just like to watch the servers. What do you find pleasure in, o’ over tall dragon-kin? A good book, and a quiet place to read it? There is a reading room upstairs, though the selection is limited. Its mostly used by those who live and work here. There is also…” She was interrupted by the male twin. He grabbed her in a hug and danced her, both laughing, around the room while his sister did the same with Shima. When they had made their way back to Draga and River, he asked Aorie, his dark eyes shining, “What skeptics have you brought to me, love?” His voice was deep with a Myth Drannor accent that gave an arhythmic music to his question. Still laughing, she replied, “Bardo, I bring Draga, Priest of Denier and his companion River. They need lodging while he does research up the hill.” She turned to Draga, “This is Bardo and his sister, Zaria; owners of the Wandering Widow and High Priest and Priestess of Sune.” Then she turned to the twins, “You two are up early. Where are Lilly and Narcy?” Zaria spoke up, she had the same accent as her brother in a high pleasant voice, “We haven’t been to bed yet. Lilly was ill. Our magic was spent so we sent her to the Monastery for healing. Narcy went with her. Will you be escorting your new friends up? Would you mind taking a package to thank Ilmater’s people? Sara’s greenhouse strawberries are ready and I am sure they would be appreciated.” Shima and Aorie both grinned, looked at each other and said in unison, “Strawberries,” drawing out the word as if in ecstasy. Zaria laughed, “We saved you some. We knew you two would come in hungry.” She turned to Draga and River, “Would you like breakfast? Or just rooms?” Bardo interrupted before Draga could answer, “Lovely fey, I would be honored if you were to remain with us for a time,” he arched an eyebrow at River and gave her a heart melting smile, “or forever.” River blushed and hid behind Draga, who coughed. “One room and I don’t know for how long and breakfast, please,” Draga replied. He paid for a week and settled on the floor next to the dwarf sized table Shima and Aorie had already claimed. They settled down to eat, porridge with strawberries and cream. Warm goat’s milk rather then wine accompanied the meal. Draga studied his guides more closely. Aorie had laughing amber eyes and he tried to remember something he had read about drow with amber eyes but it escaped him. Shima had sea green eyes with elliptical pupils that Draga was glad his draconic parent had not passed on to him. She had removed her helm revealing a half dozen fat braids, the same violent red as her beard and wings, that lay flat from her brow to the back of her neck, where they were gathered into a tail. “So,” Shima asked again. “Why do you need dragon lore to save your temple?”

#drow #half-dragon #dnd

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aoriethetheif-blog · 7 years

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Draga and his fey companion joined the crowd waiting to enter the citadel. The sun crested the eastern horizon and the gates were opened. Two patrols of city watch came out and watched the crowd; almost all of them mingled with the crowd, keeping order. Draga enjoyed his height of 7 ½ ft because he liked watching people. His shaggy black hair covered his eyebrows and the back of his neck; sharp, blue eyes observing everything. His companion, River, was tiny; barely three feet tall, with hair the blue-black of deep water at night, that ran down her back in a fluffy cascade. Her iridescent wings resembled those of a dragonfly and Draga always wondered how they never tangled in her hair. At the moment she was using her glamour to make herself appear as a halfling. He watched the guards, noting they wore many types of armour. Some had chain and leather and some plate. They all wore the same cloak; royal blue with a white dragon on it, the same as the flag of the Citadel of the White Worm. They were mostly human. One guard, however, had what looked to be red leather sides on the cloak; a red bearded dwarf near the gate, taking down the names of those who entered. He wondered why the dwarf would dye her beard such an unnatural shade of red; it almost perfectly matched the red on the cloak. “River, can you get close to the gate and find out if that dwarf taking down names is male or female. I can never tell and don’t wish to offend.” His companion buzzed her wings and darted above the crowd, using her glamour to make herself nearly invisible. While he watched, a man near the gate began a cry, “Thief! Pickpocket! Give me back my purse!” A small boy who couldn’t have been more than ten tried to run past the dwarf guard. She flicked out a wing, Draga gaped, a WINGED DWARF!, the red wasn’t part of the cloak, and knocked the boy down. She casually put a foot on his chest and reached out with her other wing a knocked on a postturn door, calling loudly, “Leftenant.” Draga, his mind still reeling, watched as a drow, a DROW!, female dressed in a long blue leather coat with the white dragon of the Citadel on the breast came out, a blue beret on her head, a few dozen waist length white braids down her back. She talked to the dwarf for a bit, casually batting aside a wing when the dwarf absently gestured with it. She then collected the boy and took him back through the postturn. River returned, “The dwarf is female. She has ribbons in her beard. And I really like the way it matches her wings. It’s quite beautifully braided, too. But, I think her drow friend did it. Her hair was braided, too. And I don’t think dwarfs have fingers that nimble.” She finally noted the look on his face. “What’s wrong, Draga?” The fey don’t view the world as other races do, he reminded himself. Draga just shook his head. “This is a human place, River. I expected to see a few dwarfs, halflings, an elf or two, half-elves, maybe gnomes. But drow are the most dangerous of the elven races. Probably the most dangerous of all the races. No one even reacted to her. And that dwarf had wings! I don’t know what to think right now.” “Oh, well, the dwarf is like you. Just a red. Half-dragons are everywhere. You just don’t notice them.” River said offhandedly. “And drow don’t bother the fey much.” The drow returned and handed the man back his purse. Draga watched as they spoke, wishing he could read lips. The man seemed neither surprised or apprehensive about talking to a drow. And she was wearing the city’s royal blue and white. He waited and watched as the drow took up a position behind the winged dwarf and preceded to prop up a wall; looking bored and trimming her fingernails with a throwing knife. The line thinned. Finally, Draga and River were standing before the winged dwarf. The usual city gate check in; name, business, how long in the city, and where do you plan to stay. He showed his letter of introduction, addressed to Grand Master Castellen, asking that he be given use of the library and said he did not know how long his research would take. He inquired about where they could find lodging. The drow leftenant grinned, not looking up from her nails, “There is always room at the Wandering Widow. Sergeant, we could show them since we go off duty once the line is cleared.” The dwarf looked at her, then back to Draga. “Aye, then we could go up the hill with them.” Draga knew he was the last person in the morning gate crowd, but he thought it strange these two would take an interest in them. River’s glamor made her look like a halfling and his wings were retracted into their slits in his back. “Do you know the Grand Master?” He made a guess at their interest. The drow finally looked at him. She had a streak of red in her hair, falling along the side of her face, braided opposite from the rest of her hair as if to emphasize it. He noticed her skin was a dark grey rather than the pure black he’d read about. He was getting more and more curious about this pair.

#d&d #story #drow #half-dragon

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