Thread: Darkness and light (LeatrixSage and Silver Star)

There was incense on the air. It swirled within the smoke from the charred remains that littered the courtyard, but it did nothing to cover the pungent scent of burnt flesh and death. It reeked in a way that little else in the world ever could. Beyond the courtyard the sounds of battle still rang out in steel meeting steel, shouted spells, and shrieks of pain. Liora Rothul , barely more than a child, stood among the wasted, withered bodies, a long, slender sword in each hand. Her white hair was matted and stuck to her skin in clumps where it was dyed pink and red from the blood of the slain. Her ashen skin shimmered in the light of the blue and purple faer fires that still raged, the light reflected in droplets of sweat. Her heart was hammering away like the drums of war in her ears, and yet there was a deadly calm about the Drow woman as she marched over the piles of slippery bodies. Bones crunched and cracked beneath her booted feet as she walked toward a familiar shape near the courtyard wall. Huddled in crumpled and stained purple silk was her eldest sister, half hidden beneath the dead body of one of their houses soldiers, and the older Drow was struggling to free herself from beneath the heavily armored male. She was trapped, and wounded, and Liora licked her lips in anticipation as she approached her sister. Byrberra, she called out as she sheathed her swords at her hips. The elder Drow looked up at her with distrust shining in her bright red eyes, but Liora offered her a teasing smile as she reached down to help move the dead soldier that kept her legs pinned. Together, they shifted the weight of the large male until Byrberra was able to slide free, and the Liora reached out to help her to her feet. Dont touch me, the priestess hissed in disdain as she yanked her arm away from Liora, who watched the elder with amusement as she staggered on a broken leg and fell back to the ground. She was weak, vulnerable, and Liora trembled with excitement as she followed her sister as she crawled futilely along the edge of the wall in search of something to help her stand. The pitiful creature was the first daughter of their Matron, their mothers favorite and heir, and a dangerous foe when she was whole and ready for a fight. What lucky twist of fate had put her at Lioras feet was beyond her knowing. Poor Byrberra, she murmured, waiting for her sister to look up at her before she put her booted foot over her broken leg and pressed down. Byrberra howled, and Liora sighed with something akin to ecstasy as she twisted her foot. One of the fractured bones popped through Byrberras flesh, and Liora laughed at the sight. It was nothing short of revenge for the endless mass of scars that her eldest sister had left crisscrossed and burned into her back, arms, and legs. Ah, look what you made me do. What a mess, Liora sighed as she dragged her foot through the dirt to clean her sisters blood off of her boot. You iblith, the elder Drow hissed through her pain. It was an insult Liora had worn so many times that the word had lost its weight. If she was lower than shit, that was fine, she wasnt the one drawling across the battlefield like a wounded dog. Youre weak, Liora whispered as she stepped over her sisters body and squatted down over her. We know our Dark Mother despises weakness, Byrberra. Do you think shell save you? The Elder Drows eyes widened as Liora lifted a sacrificial Dagger high over her head. The handle was purple glass shaped into the body of Drow woman from the waist up, the blades where her legs, and they were eight sharp needles formed from a black, swirling steel shaped into the legs of a spider, and it burned Lioras palm as she held it. Byrberra began to cry, to plead, and Lioras titillation turned into disgust at the pitiful creature sobbing beneath her. Great Goddess, Lolth, Mother of the Dark, grant me the blood of my enemies for drink and their living hearts for meat, Liora repeated the prayers she had heard thousands of times before, and then buried the eight needles of the dagger into Byrberras chest. Her sister screamed, and then gurgled, and then the light in her eyes began to fade. Liora twisted the sacrificial dagger to cut her heart free, and then lifted the still beating thing from her flesh. There you are, my child. The cold feminine voice cut through the smoke and ash, and all other sounds fell away as Liora stood, turned, and found herself in a lasting darkness that her eyes could not penetrate. The courtyard was gone, along the bodies and the battle. She stood alone, sightless, hearing nothing in the distance, and forced reach out into the darkness to try to feel something, anything, and finding nothing at all. You can hide from me, but you will never be rid of me. Out of the blackness reared a spider the size of a horse, its fore legs darting out to grab Liora and pull her in to its fangs. She screamed and thrashed against it, but its grip only tightened, and then she was falling. Liora hit the cold stone floor of her cell with a groan, the meager sheet she had been given wrapped tightly around her. Pain flared in her hip as she passed from the dreaming memories into reality. Shed spent weeks in the damp, filthy cell, and yet the nightmare shed just had was the only one she had suffered. Of course, faced with the prospect of returning to her people, it seemed only reasonable that she have a nightmare or two to get the journey started. Anything they touched as hell on earth, and their damnedable goddess was not one to let go easily. Filthy bitch, Liora muttered as she got to her feet. Both the goddess she had sworn herself to, and the vengeance of her own mother, had been chasing her heels since the day she had come crawling up from the Underdark into the surface world. It had kept her moving, never staying in one place for too long, and now one botched job was sending her right back into their loving arms. The Drow woman shuddered at the thought, and then beat on the bars to her little cage. Ho, there, a guards voice echoed from down the hall. What time is it? she called back to him. Not yet dawn, another voice called out. There was some murmuring and scuffling that she could not quite make out, and then one of those dandies that had shown up with the Hand of the King the night before came into view with a torch and a plate of the best smelling food she had seen in a month. You should eat, Ill tell them to ready a bath for you, and all of your belongings will be waiting for you. Sure enough, they let her eat their fancy food, brought her out of the cell and into the castle main to bathe and dress, and even allowed her to walk around without shackles. It was better treatment than she would provide to a pawn, and it made the Drow distrust the situation all the more. They promised her crimes would be forgiven, and hefty compensation if she succeeded in her babysitting duties and returned the little priest she was supposed to keep alive along the way. Liora did not believe them, not one whit, and had already come up with several options of how to get out of this by the time she was walking out to meet her charge. A pair of the citys Watchmen marched her all the way out to the main gate before they gave back her weapons. She had felt naked without them, even when wrapped in the supple leather that was her armor . Next to a pair of horses waited a young human man with a face that seemed as if it was made to frown in worry. He looked thin and small despite standing at least a head taller than Liora herself his padded, priests robes doing little more than accenting how narrow he was. His hands looked lean and soft, made delicate through years of turning the pages of books. They matched his watery, doe-like eyes and gentle features. You could see hardship in man, and she saw nothing more than a spoiled, pampered clergy. Siyo, iblith, I am your babysitter, she answered him in a mix of Drow and the common tongue as she passed him by to check the saddle bags on the horse that was to be hers. She found rations, water, flint and steel, all those sensible things. That was one less thing to worry about, and one more potential advantage to the idea of just killing the priest herself and riding hard for the east. They would have no way of knowing before it was too late. Maybe shed wait a week, tolerate him for a time, and then just leave him during the night. If he was eaten by a shadow cat, they couldnt call it murder. Only after she had tucked her swords securely into the blanket wrapped up at the back of her saddle and lashed her crossbow and quiver of bolts into place, did she turn her bright red eyes back to the man. It was nearing mid-day and they wouldnt have time to make it past the Inn about a half days journey down the Kings Road before the sun began to set, so there wasnt any hurry on this first leg of the journey. She wondered, as she watched him, if that would be good for his healthy or not. Can you even sit a horse, or do I need to help you up into the saddle? she asked him as she gathered up the reigns of her own stallion and began to lead it out the gate and away from the prying eyes and ears that clung to them. Just know now that I wont help you, so if you cant get into the saddle yourself, youll walk the whole journey.