Questions and Reflections. - Hoard of The Dragon Queen. Chapter 2.

Just shut up and listen.
Don't write back or interrupt. I need to get this out of my system.

What in the nine hells have you gotten me into?
Greenest, these people, this 'Cult of The Dragon.'

You say that I have skills that are needed for the task. But if the task is to be surrounded by dragons of all shapes and sizes, then that's a shitty task.

I'm not stupid or narrow minded. Cards are all about knowing what's ahead of you. Prediction, awareness, opportunity. And, I know that this force that is pillaging these small towns wont stop here. This is just the precursor to something big. But I think you've got the wrong guy!

Haven't you?

Fuck! You know what? Three days ago I wouldn't have given a care about this blasted little backwater town or its bloody people, but you put me in the thick of it. Even this group of folks that I've been lugged in with were better equipped to deal with this mess.

A walking lizard that looks like the bloody creatures I've been shooting at for two days. Yet devoted to bringing these bastards to a peaceful end.
Another bloke from Baldur's. The "Locksmith" Interesting bloke though. We had a few moments that first night it all went to shite.
A blind(?) holy woman that can do the most incredible things!
A dwarf priest. Bristling with armour and the ability to heal the most ghastly wounds.

And Lirra. 
Now this woman was able to make me question more of my sense of self in one night than all the nights I've hustled cards and played dubious hands over the last decade.

In two days, I have seen horrors that I'd never thought I'd have to. I've been granted these "gifts" from you.
I've walked through an entire camp of things that wanted me dead. I've faced a dragon attack, and aided this town of Greenest with information pertinent to the discovery and perhaps prevention of this cults next move.
I've killed monsters. I have killed. 

Is my role in all of this over now? Or has it only just begun?

And who is Neifion? 
Are you Neifion? 
Am I?

I'm closing this book now for a bit. I need to rest and I can smell Stedd's baking down the bloody hall. 

The Bringer of Silence

The Vanguard stood in a loose formation as a blasting headwind slowed their progress. Before them loomed the swirling nimbus of cloud and lightening that they new to be the portal to the Plane of Air, Yan C Bin's prison. They all knew that he watched them now as five of his armoured elemental warriors made their final push to take back Windvane, the magical spear that was the key to his freedom.

Sheth saw an opportunity to close ranks and charged forward, landing blow after devastating blow against the magical guards. Reed took a few steps forward and hurled his magical hammer at the encased elementals. Morthos began an incantation of telekinesis raising both his crafted replica of Windvane and the true elemental weapon.

Suddenly screaming into action, the Elementals charged forward, taking hit after hit from their exposed flanks to exploit the small gap in the vanguard's line. Two coming face to face with Morthos quickly, and without his Goliath ally to shield him, they rapidly slammed their flails down into the wizard, his magical wards holding for only a fleeting second as blow after blow landed and laid the wizard low.

Peren, slid to the side of his fallen companion and scooped up Windvane in his free hand, before reluctantly touching Morthos' barely breathing form. He uttered an incantation under his breath, tracing a quick symbol in the air that hung shimmering before it broke into golden dust and covered the Tiefling's broken body. Bones mended and energy was renewed as the healing magics entered his body.

Morthos lifted his aching head and saw the Elementals rampaging close by, Peren looking down suddenly at Morthos, his face only showing the barest expression of worry.
"Do you trust me?" Morthos asked.
Peren quickly glanced back at the elemental swinging the massive flail above its armoured crown and nodded as the flail descended. A shimmering portal opened up beneath them both as they fell suddenly. The fall narrowly saving Peren from the impact of that dreaded weapon. The flail slammed into the stone floor of the cavern as the portal closed as quickly as it had opened.
Together they sped through dimensional doorway and landed with a sudden disorienting thud under the howling nexus itself!

Blasts of wind assaulted them both from all sides as Peren ducked into a crouch, Windvane poised as he looked at the swirling sphere of cloud and crackling lightning above him.
Still weakened, Morthos lost his balance and was knocked back suddenly, his feet finding no ground as he involuntarily stepped off the plateau and as he fell, he watched the armoured elementals hurtling towards Peren with desperate clawed gauntlets outstretched.
He landed flat as the wind was knocked from his lungs and he gagged and gasped for air.
He was alive, for now.

Peren looked back as Morthos was swept from the plateau he fought his instincts to help as he eyed the rapidly approaching elemental guards.
He looked down to the spear and thought to himself, 'Had you have been an arrow, Windvane, this would have all been over by now.'
Peren closed his eyes for a moment and whispered, "Umsheryoth, Guide my arm and grant me clarity."

Peren's eyes crackled with golden energy as he opened them and before him.
He saw his target, the centre of the nexus. He also saw the swirling wind and he saw its intentions, its patterns and motives. He looked to the portal and he lifted Windvane close to his ear, the point of the spear angled upward, He breathed a few breaths before holding it in as he waited for the wind to play its part.
'Not now, wait. There. NOW!'

The muscles in Peren's arm became taut like a spring as he launched Windvane up and it flew as if it were a silver bolt of lightening that yearned to return home.
Then a moment of complete silence sounded as sudden and jarring as any tolling bell before an inverse in the wind forced Peren to clutch a nearby rock as it threatened to sweep him into the collapsing portal.

The Elemental guardians shrieked as they were sucked back into their Plane of Air and in a span of breaths, silence tolled again. Peren stood nimbly, blinking rapidly as his eyes returned to their normal hue. He took a step to the edge of the plateau and peered over the precipice. His companions were all breathing, including Morthos who still lay face up upon the stone floor.

He hopped back down easily, nodding to his companions as they gathered around. Reed half smiling in return. Sheth, acknowledged Peren's  deed wtih a stern clap on the shoulder.

Without standing, Morthos began a new spell. A circle of energy surrounding them all."Gather round," He muttered in his usual contempt filled voice. All stepped in and a moment later, with a flash, the Vanguard was gone, leaving only the liberated silence in their wake.

To Where The Stones Gather.

Attondel watched as the two women slowly rose on the gusting wind of the tunnel leading upward to the fortified hold of Tyar Besil.  Clutched by the blade close to the hilt, Obsidian's black surface prickled against his palm, signalling him that something had caught his sentient blades attention.

"Master, another approaches through the stone at speed!" Obsidian's grating voice heard only in the Goliath's mind rang with a tone of urgency. 

More urgency than usual. 

Attondel turned a weary eye upwards, spinning the massive great sword with such ease that it may as well have been a willow switch. It's gleaming back blade, nearly seven feet in length coming to rest upon an armoured shoulder.

A moment later Attondel's true sight caught the almost imperceptible ripple in the stone ceiling. To him it was as obvious as tidal wave approaching the shore as his eyes seldom missed even the most minute detail, especially when it came to stone.

He widened his stance slowly and raised his free muscled arm close to the hilt, ready to grip and strike.

There were no tremors, no dust fell from this strange event. It behaved as if the rock was a pool of clear water reflecting a mountain range that had been disturbed by a solitary pebble.

A moment later a small, lithe form sprang out of the stone and landed in a kneel, one arm stretched out to the side, the other hand with the naked palm flat against the stone. The rippling ceiling near instantly returning to its solid state.

He noticed the black bracers first, around supple wrists, shining and flawless. Familiar, like his blade.

"Attondel, well met." Came a cool feminine voice, devoid of any emotion. Flat, calm, tranquil. His attention returned to the form before him. A moment of contemplation brought remembrance.
"Helenrae," boomed his baritone voice, a stark contrast to hers. "What are you doing here?"

She stood slowly, running one open hand down her chest to her hip, straightening the small crease in her flawless attire.

"My final test awaits. Lord Samular has dispatched me to aid you in your task." She replied in that cool, controlled voice.
A crimson hood of velvet, complete with a veil leaving only her mouth and angled cheeks and chin visible adorned her head. This extended into a fine robe of a durable looking fabric, adorned with beads and small polished stones.

She suddenly cocked her head and pointed away from their position, through the wall. As if lending an eat to an unseen whisper.

"Your companions are suddenly close to here."
"That would be Morthos," He stated nonchalantly as the howling wind that blew up the shaft to the ancient dwarven kingdom became still. Now filled with only an eerie silence.
"It appears my companions have completed their task and closed the air portal." Attondel deduced.
"We should rejoin your party and continue your task." Helenrae suggested as a hand went a black rod fastened to her waist. It extended by three feet almost instantly as it entered her grasp. She tapped it once against the floor, then once against the nearby wall, allowing a small echo to escape. Then she turned and walked further down the hall with a confidence of a person who had lived down here all her life.

The Gloliath's gaze went quickly back to Helenrae and her forearms that were adorned with those black, gleaming bracers.
He couldn't see a seam, or a crease, and he knew that they were most certainly made from same gleaming stone that Obsidian was wrought.

He dismissed his speculation and focused again upon his surroundings.No questions now. He knew there would be time for that once they had rejoined the vanguard.

Helenrae

Master Renwick.
I have received word from The Vanguard that they have breached the inner sanctum of the Howling Hatred and the destruction of the Elemental Air Portal is imminent. The Vanguard seek to move on The Black Earth immediately after their assault on Howling Hatred.
I have a task for the one in your care known as Helenrae. She may have intimate knowledge of their compound and sending her would be sufficient test to see where her loyalties rest.
Enclosed with this scroll is the arcane missive with the necessary incantations to provide Helenrae with the means to track The Vanguard.

Send her, Renwick, with all speed.

Anveena.

Neifion - The Lord of Bats

Neifion The Lord of Bats.

He had watched Virgil move from tavern to tavern for weeks. Uncaring and calculated as he fleeced unsuspecting card players, novice and expert alike.

Virgil's hands and acuity, naturally quick. He was impressed with Virgil's ability to run the hustle completely. From start to finish, a flawless exercise in planning and execution.
He was Neifion - Lord of Bats, and he had been at his masters service for near all his adult life.
He was older, and slower now. Slower than what was required to be the embodiment Neifion.
He thought of what it had been to be Neifion all these years. The lives he'd made better, or worse. He had thought of those lives he had taken.
To have his name whispered by the people his actions influenced. To the nobility, he was a scourge upon their corrupted tax collectors. To the criminal underworld, he was the shadow that fought back against their stand over tactics and violence. To those that toil endlessly in their fields to feed and clothe their families, he was a Godsend. To Gamblers, like Virgil, he was a flip of a coin. A favoured patron, or a name to curse when your luck was down.
Neifion had fought to maintain a balance of good and evil. Favouring neither, but not allowing one to completely overthrow the other.
The balance must be kept.
He saw the potential in Virgil. He saw the skill set needed to be Neifion. The cunning, the guile. Neifion had accepted his proposal for Virgil to become the next. He would force the man's hand. Move him like a pawn on a chessboard.
Yet a single decision from this pawn could turn him into a knight, to smite oppression. A rook, to be a bastion that holds back the tides of darkness, Perhaps he may even become a King, and surpass where he had failed.
What was important now was maintaining the balance.
Time was running short and Neifion knew he must act soon.
The balance must be kept.

Virgil Crane

The piles of gambling chips in front of Virgil made the other two piles look tiny in comparison.

He had been working the tables in this tavern each night for a tenday now, losing more than he won.

All his losses were inconsequential, as he would leave this tavern only to enter another and break even a few hours later.

Tonight was the payoff.

He was two hands from cleaning house and this round was all but done.

"Call" The grizzled older player to his left laid down the last of his chips along with an old oak container no larger than a shoe box. "That's all I have" he said with a half smile on his face.

A powdered noble smirked and met his bid, before both of them turned to Virgil. He allowed his eyes to flinch, just enough for his opponents to see before meeting the bet. Cards were flipped, firstly he older man, Displaying two pair. Jacks  over eights, with a lone four.
Virgil let out an audible gasp which caused the noble to grin and turn his hand.
Full house. Jacks over black aces and one hand went greedily for the pile of chips in the centre of the table.

Virgil threw his cards with a flick of his wrist to his right, the nobles face turning to a grimacing hatred as he saw the red aces, flanked by three queens.

"Get your hands off my chips." Virgil calmly stated as he scooped the centre of the table back to his corner.

The old grizzled man. Smiled and stood turning to the bar.

The noble, now flanked by two burly men towered above him.

Virgil woke in the alley, his left eye swollen closed, blood in his mouth and s sharp pain near his ribs.

"Ye played a good game  lad, but you need to work on your withdrawal." Said the grizzled man as he helped him to his feet.

"At least they didn't take everything of value."

Virgil looked down through his one good eye and saw the oak box.

"There's riches in this box but they couldn't open it. Only a man in the village of Greenest can open it."

Virgil spat some blood and tongued a loose tooth in the back of his mouth.

"Greenest?" He said incredulously, "I have to go to greenest to get anything from this bloody night."

The old man, still smiling offered a shoulder and Virgil accepted.

"I swear it's worth the trip. You've got a good soul." He now locked eyes with Virgil and Virgil could not look away.

"You will take this box to greenest and stay there until it opens."

The words resounded within his very core.
"Y-yes," Virgil stammered. "I will go to greenest."

The Dream

I am dreaming.

Lost in a realm where I cannot find home.
In my sleeping mind I see images of places long gone. Warm visions of people's faces that I may have once known.

I awoke, completely submerged in an ocean in storm.
My mind believing I was drowning was the first encounter I conquered.
I walked in the deep waters until the light became truth. My journey on the oceans floor imparted it's secrets and when I emerged from its depths I had an understanding of what made it strong. 

I could now use it's power as my own.

This construct, this "Frame" that I now inhabit allows me to move amongst the people of this land with little trouble. It allows me to fight, to learn. To live.

When I am weary I wake.
I wake to darkness. I am some place elsewhere, distant and ancient. I can feel my body fill with air. I can hear the sound of my breath.
Beyond these few sensations I am lost.
Am I truly alive?

I will use this frame to wander and I will seek knowledge. Some day perhaps, I will know the truths.

I am timeless. I am patient. I will find myself again.

The Hunt.

T'kiric crouched and looked over the mass of old footprints that led from the cell and over to the nearest bridge spanning the expanse below.
Dwarves, gnomes, and everything in between.
Clawed footprints of something large was right amongst them. 
"A quaggoth?" He thought as he tried to make sense of the mismatched imprints. 
"Dear brother, what did you get yourself involved in?" Another set, almost just as large and ending in sharp, curved nails were also evident. These ones however, we're alien to him.
"Something to look for, perhaps."

He followed the tracks across the bridge to the tower and then back to the main ledge. Spent bolts from hand crossbows lay strewn about this part of the plateau.
"Drow everywhere," He surmised. "Firing in all directions." T'kiric knelt and gingerly picked up a bolt bolt between a gloved thumb and forefinger, bringing it close to his nose.
He let the scent rise Into his nostrils,
"Decay and sulfur."
His mind worked quickly, piecing together the most likely scenario.
"Demons in Menzonberranzan and demons here. How far have they truly spread?"

From an overhang above a spider, covered in dark grey hair and as large as a wagon wheel descended towards the deep-in-thought Drow. It landed as softly and silently as a shadow The pads on its eight legs making no sound at all, and barely five feet from his exposed back. It raised its two front legs up as the remaining six tensed like deadly springs as it's body lowered.

"Not now, Spindle." Said T'kiric in a murmur that was barely audible. He turned, still kneeling came face to many eyed face with the large spider. He still marveled the sight of her. Sleek and silent, loyal and deadly. 
His companion and friend.
T'kiric took a bit of comfort at the spiders playful behavior knowing if Spindle wasn't  in a state of unrest, there was a good chance that whatever had caused this skirmish was long gone.

He extended his hand and Spindle in turn, lowered the end of her raised leg down so that it rested in T'kiric's palm.
"Come on," he said patting the fur covered leg before standing and giving the place a final look over.
The Drow prison known as Velkynvalve was still, save for the rush of the waterfall that filled the basin below.

"Let's go find your uncle Sarith."

From Scarlet Moon to Sacred Stone.

The journey to Sacred Stone takes its toll on you all.
The fight against the fire construct could only be considered a hollow victory, having more questions than answers when the dust settles.

Throughout the journey Flik and Aphid visit each of you.

The two come to rest on your shoulder for a duration and speak to you, whether you want them to or not. 

Reed.

"You have the heart of one who has seen so much tragedy. It is hardened and scarred yet it's core remains pure and good. You have not allowed your heart to succumb to grief and sorrow. You may be small in stature but within your heart beats the strength of a giant."

Peren

"The loss of your parents was something you had laid to rest, until a planted seed of doubt sprung from your heart like a weed. Now it is conflicted by the need to know more and your duty to your companions. Stay true, Bowman. Stay true to your allies for they will bring you to the answers you so desperately seek."

Morthos

"A heart which has known only ambition and power. Tempered by a discipline of knowledge and understanding of what power can bring. Now it is rent in two. The void between your heart's two pieces, Power and Discipline, fills with rage and hatred. This threatens to consume your heart, corrupting and twisting what it is to be you. "

Attondel

"Like a volcano, your heart beats with with volatile energy. The lonely Mountain. The Wandering Colossus. Heed the words of your stone protector. Follow His guidance for His guidance will lead to the protection of these lands and all who dwell upon it."

Melech

"Your heart is a maze of deception and lies. You only know what you have been shown and we can not see beyond the maze. Your heart may be lost to the twists and turns of the deciept that forged it. You have the resolve to solve the maze. It is up to you to choose."

Sheth

"Two hearts, from vastly different lineages, form one. Your heart is a riddle. Savage, yet disciplined. Brutal, yet gentle. Fearsome, yet kind. You walk the true path of the just. Your heart and the deeds you accomplish are your true legacy."

Letter to Morthos

My Dearest Morthos.

Word has reached me regarding the loss of Dorn to this "Prophet"
I understand that grief turns us into uncaring, unthinking beings of pure vengeance. Our family is everything to us. Those that oppose us our hurt us face the full force of our family. You will handle this as a true Brexton.

It is for this reason that I have relieved you of your burdens regarding the politics of this alliance. I do this not because I do not trust you to serve our best interests, but because I now need you to become focused on one thing and one thing alone.

You will avenge my Nephew, your brother and you will do it the Brexton way. Cripple her allies, cripple her rivals.Make her see that she is but a number on a list of people you will destroy to see retribution served. Allow her to understand that she has made a grievous error before her time comes.

Regarding our new acquaintances.

The Zhentarim assure me that the delegates they have organised to represent their interests are of the highest integrity and well placed. You needn't take any heed or umbrage with them. I have been told they will assist you in whatever you need done. Should they fail to abide, report them immediately. I doubt the Zhentarim will risk damaging their Miribar connections.

We are their client after all.

Enclosed is a gift befitting one of your prowess in the arcane. I hoped to present it to you the next time we met, alas, now seems a better time for you to put it to use.

We will have time to grieve for Dorn as a family when this is task is completed. Until then, you know what I need you to do.

Your loving Aunt,

Sivara.

PS: Make sure you're eating well. Don't rely on those foolish rations for nutrition.

Where The Elements Stirred.

They came to The Vale
Each purpose their own.
While The Elements stirred.

In Redlarch paths crossed
It's secrets unknown.
While The Elements stirred.

'Til the earth opened up
And the grim truth was shown
While the elements stirred.

Five fates set to motion
Down in that old tomb
Where the elements stirred

And the battle was joined
As the five fought as one.
Through carverns
Through evil
That worshipped the stone.
Then a path lay revealed
To the hills that concealed
A menace that must be undone

A menace that must be undone. 

So with course resolute
The five left that town
Where the elements stirred.

To the hills led their trail                        
To keeps of days gone                              
To where the elements stirred.

To where the elements stirred. 

Fin. 

The Capture

Cyril, for just a moment, was surprised at how calm he  kept when the Dark Elves descended upon the encampment.
He was also very thankful that he hadn't drawn the short straw that night and ended up on first watch as he now looked down on the three small darts sticking out of his comrades face and throat.

The other eight guardsman he traveled with, fought the ebony skinned forms around the light of the campfire and as he rounded the wagon he watched them all disappear under a globe of what he assumed to be magical darkness. Panicked shrieks could be heard from within as he edged closer, as his eyes adjusting to the clear pale moonlight.

Faint foot falls behind him pricked his ears up and he instinctively spun, hands in motion as they caught a blade destined for his back and deflected it harmlessly sideways. Turning his wrist quickly to bring his hand over his assailants hand he kept control of the arm, crossing it over the dark elf's body. The lithe onyx form spun with the momentum his other hand whipping down with an over head strike from a wicked dagger.
Cyril moved with in cohesion with the Dark Elf, keeping in his blind spot and catching the dagger hand at the wrist before bringing down his weight just behind the elbow of the extended arm, Cyril fell on top of his attacker as he felt a satisfying 'pop' as the cartilage from Dark Elf's elbow tore, shrieking as the blade fell away from his now useless arm.
Cyril silenced him quickly, snapping a fast punch to the back of his neck, a single knuckle extended.

He scooped up the dagger, nimbly turning it over in his hand so that the blade ran concealed down his forearm before moving to aid his compatriots. 

In the time it had taken him to dispatch one, the Dark Elves had dispatched the remaining seven.
Six slinking forms now stalked in towards him. There was no victory to be had here in this moment.
"If the enemy are stupid enough to want to capture you, don't fight it."
He heard his instructors voice in his head as he let the blade slip from his hand and fall to the ground, his foot kicking it aside as he locked his fingers behind his head, arms raised and heart racing.

There were three clicks in quick succession from the hand crossbows leveled at him and felt the sting of the darts pierce his leather tunic and bite his flesh.
The pain only lasted a moment as he felt the numbing effects of the poison spread through his body.
He knelt, just as his legs began to give way.
He then decided that if he woke up from this, he was going to find a way to escape. He would bring news of this capture to the surface and warn his superior officers.
This would be his ultimate test to prove his worth to the Lords Alliance.

Calling to The Dark - Post current campaign.

The Blind Kraken Inn was for many the first port of call from the south wharf of Waterdeep's dock district. It was a haven for the less reputable of the cities travellers. A place where city guards seldom came and deals were made and broken.
 The establishment bustled with all manner of folk. Tables set about the floor seated drinkers and gamblers. Draped off the upstairs balcony were men and woman of all races coaxing the patrons below with offers of companionship for a modest fee. A small area around a fireplace was kept clear for the Kraken's entertainers. Two played here this night. A sombre melody of bagpipes and Lute strings kept those close by swaying and singing. Cheers of "Grubar!" And "Linny!" erupted from the merriment.
Amongst it all, a young woman, service tray in hand, deftly skipped about the tables collecting empty tankards all while  avoiding the occasional slap on the arse or attempted grope.  With a smile and a wink she kept them cheering and laughing as she navigated the a course back to the bar.
"Ye having fun, Daisy?" Came the gruff voice of Benrik the Inn keep. An older, more grizzled version of the patrons that now drank his ale, gambled at his tables and spent coin on his whores. He wore a decent scar across his right cheek to his lip that he earned as a whelp in a bar not unlike the one he now ran. Part of his large handlebar moustache was now divided by it.
"Sure, Boss," she chimed back as she unloaded the empty cups from her tray. "Just another night in Paradise!"
"Just be sure you keep moving out there," boomed the voice of a younger man from across the bar. Daisy shot him a wry smile as she moved across to his position at the opposite end of the bar.
"Oh don't worry, Lucias, I'll only stop if the  tips good." Smirking as she danced away with two full tankards of spiced mead.

Lucias Halt, the taverns lead bouncer, stern and sturdy. Billy club hanging from his belt and Daisy's Lover for just over a year now.
It was Lucias that had found her walking aimlessly in the nearby market area, sobbing and making very little sense.  Something about an employment venture that had fallen through. 
He took her back to Benrik after much coaxing and assurances that he wasn't trying to rob her.
She was smart enough to insist that a town guard escort them back to the Kraken, just to be sure.
All that initial mistrust and fear turned about as time went on.

Daisy arrived at a table consisting of three men.  'Some kind of uniform,' she thought as they all sported a crimson sash across their chest. A fourth figure sat opposite the men. A dwarf, but the smell of the sea permeated from him so strongly that she would have believed that it was some kind of bearded sea creature that walked out of the bay instead of off a ship.
A game of bones was currently underway. The dwarf against the human seated in the middle of his cohorts.

Judging from the pile of coins on the dwarfs side of the table, the game wasn't going so well for his opponent.

Greyson

"Boys," she interjected between moves, "two cups o' mead, as ordered."
The dwarfs hand went up and snatched one tankards before it even left her tray and began quaffing it's contents, keeping one eye on his opponents.
Daisy watched the spectacle play out as he replaced the mug on the tray in record time and proceeded to down the next.
The second cup was drained and handed back to the stunned Maid. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and took a few copper from his pile and slapped them down on the edge of the table in front of Daisy.
She offered a small curtsey and nimbly scooped up the coins.
She turned away and took a few steps back from the table spreading the money  in the palm of her hand to check for any fake currency as Benrik had taught her.
There was more than enough for the drinks, but there was one smaller coin, it looked more like iron than copper.
She held the palm of her hand closer to her face. Depicted on its surface was a hand holding what looked like another coin.
"Mi lord," she said spinning about not taking her eye from the iron coin.
"I think you-" the dwarf interrupted her and she looked up from her palm . "Lass, the names Greyson and  that's A gift. From me to you." he gave her a quick wink, " you keep that on you for good luck." As he turned back to his game. A quick smile, another small curtsey and she was off, collecting cups from other tables.
"Keeping out of trouble, boys?" she asked the two other bouncers at the front of the tavern. They replied back with their usual playful retorts.
Then from behind her clear as day, she heard the word that was responsible for starting more bar fights than she'd had hot dinners.
"Cheat!" Accused Greyson's losing opponent as he slammed his fist down on the table, sending game pieces in all directions.
"Ye call me that again, boy, and you and yer little friends here, will be sittin' down to piss fer the rest o' yer lives." He threatened . "Now take yer ugly faces out of here, like the losers ye are so I can count yer money."
"How's about we just take back what's-"
Lucius' hand slapped down on the angered man's shoulder as Daisy watched by the entrance as the other bouncers quickly moved in to stand behind the Dwarf. She'd be out the door in a flash and up to the guardhouse a few streets from here to alert the city watch.
"If you have a dispute, take it up with the Magistrates in the morning." Warned Lucius who had his small club readied in his other hand. "There will be no trouble here tonight."
"All right boys," said the leader of the trio as he raised his arms and stood slowly, turning to face Lucius as he did. Two dozen  more men and women stood up as Lucius realised they all wore some kind of red sash, belt or bandana!

The distraction created by the other sashes was all that was needed for a hidden blade to be stuck repeatedly and brutally into Lucias. In the blink of an eye and a scream of grief, the inn erupted into a brawl as loyal drinkers and bouncers tuned against anyone wearing a red sash.

With a great bellow Greyson pushed the table into his three aggressors, freeing Lucius from the grip of his attacker.
The precious seconds bought he spent immediately on Lucius.
Hands spread over the young boy bleeding out he muttered a few quick illegible words as a glow covered Lucius.
The blood visually slowed its flow from his body as a dagger struck the back of his concealed breast plate.
Greyson turned with the blow. And caught the young woman by the wrist, resisting the urge to set her alight with a thought, settling instead for a head-butt that spread her nose across her face. He flung her back sending her smashing through a turned over chair where she remained motionless.
"Hold on lad," Greyson said surveying the carnage unfolding. "Wasn't meant to happen this way." Lucias looked up as the pain took his consciousness. He heard the Dwarfs words before the blackness took the pain away.

Grubar

The fighting closest to the bards intensified as knives, bottles and chair legs were brought to bear.
Gruber, with on leg up on the footstool channelled his innate powers into his pipes and let forth a macabre dirge that effected all those in the immediate area. Most of the weapons from enemy and ally alike were dropped to the floor as those within his immediate vicinity succumbed to a terrible vertigo-like sensation. Gruber noticed a few of the brigands in sashes were able to shake off the musical assault. "Stubborn bastards!" He snorted.
Linny, rapier at the ready and lute strapped to her back leapt from table to table, slashing fingers and piercing  joints, disarming those who hadn't been stricken by Gruber's music.

A young man through gritted teeth growled as he managed to get a swing of a table leg off at the Forest Gnome. Smiling the whole time, Linny jumped and spun straight up and over the swing, landing with her rapier back in it's sheath and her trusty lute in hand with a chord held at the ready. Her other tiny hand raised in the air holding a silver plectrum.  Her little legs in a widened in stance as she brought the plectrum down and as the lute sang so did she, unleashing a high pitched shriek so magically charged that held him in place for several seconds!.
As he collapsed she spun back to Gruber, a massive smile on her face. "Ha!" She laughed as she leapt back to the stage where Gruber surveyed her work from. "Now that was a showstopper!"

Linny

Gruber nonchalantly pulled a piece of squashed bread out of each ear after a few moments. "Oh I'm sorry Linny, I didn't see you take down that one whelp," as he pointed and muttered at the pile of helpless brawlers. "eleven, twelve, thirteen." He sighed and patted his bagpipes. "I was too busy counting." he gloated.  

"Humph!" She retorted crossing her arms and frowning. " I'm surprised you could get past five without using your fingers!" Her childish features always made Gruber smile. She had real talent. Although he'd never admit it out loud. 

"When he two are finished measuring cocks!" Roared Greyson, a ruffian locked under each armpit

"Ooh! We're coming, Greyson! Linny cried out cheerfully waving her arm, signalling despite being only several meters away. She leapt into the fray as Grubar waded through the incapacitated crowd, mumbling half assed apologies whenever he accidentally trod on a hand. 

Daisy hadn't seen much of the brawl play out, she had burst through the Krakens double doors into an empty street in search of anyone that could alert the guards. 

Her eyes welled and her heart felt as if it had split, body shaking with each uncontrollable sob. The streets were barren. 

"Help!" she finally screamed in desperation, "Help us!"

"Oh I don't think there'll be any help for you, lass." Hissed a voice from behind her. She spun about with a gasp as the same man who had attacked her dear Lucias was stalking towards her. A bloodied female carrying two curved knives beside him. Terror rolled over her like a wave and thankfully her flight instinct took control. She turned and sped away as fast as her legs would carry her towards the darkness of the nearby alleyways.
 

The Warning. Hoard of the Dragon Queen -Rest period after Cyanwrath's Encounter *Spoilers*

Raan watched and listened at the doorway of what was once a kobold barracks in the winding tunnels of the Cults hideout.
Less than an hour before the company had squared off against Landrigosa, the Blue Half-Dragon that had duelled and defeated Kilvarax, the company's own Dragonkin warrior.
Although Landrigosa had acted honourably by allowing the hostages to go free once the duel was completed, Raan had sworn that he wouldn't allow something as trivial as honour to encumber the delivery of true justice.

He heard the tell tale scratching of Kil's clawed feet and the swish that his tail made as he pivoted. Then the clack, clack, clack as he approached. He controlled the urge to cringe at the noise it created, considering anything left in here likely knew their position.

In the dim light Raan gave him a nod to acknowledge his presence as Kil took up a flanking position on the other side of the door.
It seemed an eternity passed, neither of them looking at one another, maintaining their vigil for the sake of the camp.
"What you did," came Kil's guttural draconic voice, "was no small feat."
Raan looked briefly in surprise but for a moment.
"But  rob me of my vengeance again." Kil left the threat open.
Raan had thought about this conversation since the aftermath of the battle, anticipating such a confrontation.
It was in this moment that something else occurred to him.
"You're right. I acted hastily, and in doing so, took your chance for vengeance."
This caused Kil to offer a small sideways glance.
"I granted justice to all of those that devil would have maimed and killed in Greenest." Raan looked at him squarely. " The truest course of justice was to allow you the kill. To bare witness to the justice you would have wrought." He looked back to the doorway. "I won't make that mistake again."

Raan and Kilvarax finished the rest of the watch in silence.
Each respecting the other a little more than they'd ever let on.

Reassurance and Reward. - Hoard of the Dragon Queen

Raan closed the door to his room back at Nighthill's keep and immediately threw off his pack and cloak. He fumbled with the clasps on his breastplate as he suddenly felt as if it were a weight chrushing the air from his lungs.
With a final heave he flung it from him and as it clattered to the ground, so did he.
His undershirt was damp and it clung to him. Beads of sweat formed and ran down his face as he processed the events of the last few hours.

He took a deep, calming breath to steel his nerves and peeled the soaked garment off, feeling every muscle protest in doing so. Burns, cuts and bruises adorned his torso and arms. He and the band that had come together on the road to Greenest had endured so much in a short time.

Moving to his knees, Raan uncoupled his two swords and placed the longer blade out with in front of him to his right and the shorter to his left.
Finally he removed the pendant from around his neck. Placing it directly down in front of him.
He focused on it intently as he regulated his breathing. It's unblemished surface, the symbol of the hand holding a single coin, caught the  flickering light of the hearth. 
Soon the room fell away and there was only his swords, the coin and darkness as he slowly closed his eyes.
"My love." Came the ethereal whisper of his lost wife's voice. His eyes snapped open there standing before him in a field of grass stood his beloved. Adorned in a dress of royal blue, her favourite colour. It was decorated in the finest patterns and it clung to her slender frame. Her face was clear and full of colour. The Elven part of her heritage visable in the shape and clarity of her eyes, and the slight points of her ears peeking out from her flowing black hair that moved slightly in the breeze. A jeweled band of silver keeping it back from her face. In her hands, she held his sheathed sword against her breast.

He knew better to answer, as to risk breaking concentration was to risk losing this glorious vision.
"My love," she whispered again, "you are on a dangerous path. You honour your family with every life you save. The evil you extinguish makes the living world a better place."
The words washed over him like the suns rays breaking through a dark cloud.
He began to feel rejuvenated as the aches and pains of his last encounter ebbed away.
"But there is more danger ahead, Father."
Came the voice of his beloved daughter.
She appeared from behind her mother's skirts and moved to stand in front of Raan's smaller blade. "More people to help. More people that are in pain."
She was every bit her mother in appearance.  The same shaped eyes and face. She wore a simple dress, her hair in a plait. 

He watched her pick up the other sword that was bestowed upon him when Assuran had spared his life and gave him the choice.
"Let us both help you." Said his wife as she offered the hilt of the sword she carried.
"Father," came his little girls voice as she took a step forward, offering the other hilt. "Let me help too."
Raan reached out and grasped both hilts and in unison his family stepped backwards, keeping hold of the pair of swords and revealing their keen edges.
"Goodbye, Father."
"Go, my love."
They both spoke together as a blinding light struck Raan. He struggled to keep his eyes open not wanting to lose sight of his family.
He finally relented and looked away from the searing light to find himself back in his room within the keep, both blades now in his hands.
He stood up, completely renewed and healed. No marks of the battles upon him, no fatigue or aches, yet, something was different.
The two blades in his hands felt lighter than before. More of an extension in his hands than just two swords.
He made a small figure eight with the smaller of the swords that he had held in his left hand.
There was no clumsiness or feeling of being awkward or weaker. He put both the swords through a few simple drills and soon realised that he could use these weapons together, no weakness on one side or the other. He threw both blades up and caught them again in opposite hands without a hint of slowing down.
Faster and faster he spun the blades in unison until they were a humming blur of steel!
When he finally paused, he could not help but smile.
It was only then that he noticed the morning sun creep into the room from the open window. It was morning already? As his stomach growled the answer to his question.
He quickly strapped on his blades and donned a fresh shirt.
Before walking from the room he replaced any hint of happiness with his customary scowl. 

Appearances had to be maintained after all.

A Matter of Faith - Hoard of the Dragon Queen.

Raan shook the rain from his cloak as he passed through the stone archway to the temple of Torm. He felt a wave of warmth wash over him as he was greeted by the soothing glow of many torches that illuminated the walls.

Before him stood a modest hall. Perfectly carved and polished pews were arranged in a circle around a large hearth in the halls centre.

Raan eyed several robed attendants shuffling about, seemingly unaware of his entrance, save for one who approached him with hands out at his sides, palms visible. 
Young male, angled chin, eyes and nose covered by cowl. Elf, possibly half-breed. No weapons visible.

Although Raan had been instructed to attend this hall by Assuran himself, he still kept his guard up.
If it looks like a trap, it probably is, echoed the words of one of the chosen to train him.
The purpose of this event, seemed to be yet another training exercise.

"Your swords are not needed here," said a woman's voice. It sounded aged yet it resonated clearly across the hall, as if she were next to him.
Raan eyed a figure sitting opposite the large hearth in the centre of the room. Possibly the origin of the voice though he couldn't be sure.
"If it is all the same, I'll decide that, should the choice need to be made."

Raan saw the  figure across the hall shuffle. Her shoulders bobbed a few times. Possibly laughing?
A hand gestured for him to approach as the young robed male turned about and led him in further.

Eight lives visible. Secluded areas could house more. Circular room. No real defensive position.

As Raan walked closer he could now make out a woman's face. It was lined with many years of age. Long silver hair pulled back in a pony tail.
Her robes looked faded. Older and less ornate than the others in the room.
"Welcome, Raan. Chosen of Assuran. Sit, and be at ease."
Raan raised an eyebrow reflexively at this woman who seemed to know so much about him.
He sat down next to her in the same pew, moving his sword from his side to his lap with enough distance between them to seat another. 

"You have me at a disadvantage," he replied. "I do not know your name."
She turned her body towards him, sitting with hands resting in her lap.
"A name doesn't give me advantage for it is only a name, Raan." she mused. A quaint smile on her lips. Raan realised suddenly that her eyes were not dilated, that she wasn't actually looking at him, so much as though him.
"Oh yes," she nodded. "I am quite blind." Her lips and nose scrunched up a little and she raised her hand slightly, turning it from side to side. " In a physical sense, that is."
Her hand returned to her lap, as she leaned in closer to him.
"Some things I can see clearer than a blue spring sky," she whispered. as she patted him on the knee "Raan, Chosen of Assuran."
"I would appreciate some discretion towards my identity if its all the same to you." Raan whispered back quietly. 

" Oh you needn't be worried about, dear boy." She raised her hands and gestured here and there, motioning Raan to take a look about. "You're in a temple of Torm." She replied as if that was assurance enough.
After a moment of silence, she continued. "That means, Raan, Chosen of Assuran, that what we speak about here, remains here and for no one else but yourself, and myself."
She relaxed back into the pew, putting an arm on its back rest, tracing the intricate carvings with a finger. "It's as simple as that."
Raan huffed a small sigh, shaking his head dismissively.
She shifted her position back to her initial pose. Hands folded back in her lap.
"So," she began, " The hour is late. The temple is empty and peaceful, and Raan, Chosen of Assuran, enters this hall. What brings you here, Raan, Chosen of Assuran."
"It's just Raan, and-" He started to respond.
Her hand shot out open and hung there. "Good to meet you, Raan, I'm Milly."
Raan paused only for a moment, then shook her outstretched hand. She shook it vigorously, with quite a strong grip.
She moved back and motioned for him to continue. "Go on," she replied.

"I was sent here by Assuran. I received no other instructions other than that,"
Raan explained. "You seem to know more about this meeting than I."
A puzzled look crossed Milly's face, then suddenly, realisation. " Oh, the whole "I Know Everything About You," routine." Milly dismissed it with a gesture. One of His gifts to the devoted. I know the innermost truths of anyone who walks through that arch." She mused
"That's more Assuran's idea of fun isn't it? Irony, and poetic justice?"
Raan didn't know how to answer. This was the first time he'd actually spoken to anyone about his situation since the events of Greenest.

"Yes, it is a mandate of Assuran to administer true justice to those who would harm the innocent," he stated flatly. "The crime will imitate the punishment."

"That is exactly the same thing the last Paladin of Assuran said," she chuckled. "To the letter!"

Raan disagreed with the title of 'Paladin', but more pressing was the talk of another trained like him! "Another came here? How long ago did you see him?" 

"Her" Milly replied. 

"Her, then!" He snapped back. 

Milly shot him a Mother's glance of disapproval and Raan immediately knew his error. He stiffened his posture. 

"Please, tell me about her." He asked with a tone full of respect.

Milly nodded and smiled. "She was very much like you. A soul, drowning in grief, her life about to end far too soon." 
This sounds all too familiar, he thought.

"Assuran plucked her from certain doom and put a bit more of a spring in her mortal coil and set her on the path that you walk now." 

It couldn't be a coincidence that another like him had come here. Perhaps it was just more training? 

"What became of her?" He asked. She waved a finger from side to side in a mock disapproval.

"That is the end of the story, Raan, You're skipping ahead."

Raan sighed again. "Continue, please." He said and Milly seemed happy at his use of manners this time.
"When she came here, she too said that Assuran had told her to come. She didn't have swords though. She had a beautiful curved bow," She smiled fondly. " She sat right where you're sitting now and asked why she'd been sent also."

Raan waited now, the pause in sentences growing.
"Go on," Raan prompted.

Milly moved forward a little in the pew, closing the gap between her and Raan.
"Before we continue, Raan, who sent you here today?" 

"Assuran," he answered with a puzzled look on his face. "I told you that before."
"He sent you?" She pressed, "Assuran himself, spoke to you?"
"Yes, Milly." He answered again, trying not to become frustrated at this sudden line of obvious questioning.
"When did he ask you to come to this place?"
"Four nights ago," He continued. "Where is all this going, Milly?"
"Did you argue with him about reason or need to come this temple without a reason?"
Raan shrugged his shoulders, "Yes, He rarely sends me to any place with an explanation. It's always a trial to get any kind of straight answer from him!" Raan scoffed. "But that's gods I suppose."

"You suppose?" Milly asked, raising an eyebrow, nodding as if she had heard enough.
"She was here for two days before she got her truth." Milly said, "But she was a lot smarter than you are so I'm going to save you the time."
Milly looked over her shoulder towards an alcove at the back before Raan to answer her clear insult. "Kel," she called, "Kel, are you near?"
A middle aged man, older than Raan, but far younger looking than Milly shuffled from the alcove over to them.
He smiled nervously at Raan, his eyes darting from Raan's sword across his lap back to Milly.
"Yes, Milly. Can I help you?"
"Kel. Tell us how long you have been in the service of Torm, please."
Kel smiled funnily and Raan got the impression that Milly already knew the answer before it would be stated.
"I have been in devoted service to Torm for twenty two years of my life." He said humbly, head bowed at the mention of his deities name.
Milly looked back to Raan. "Kel here is one of our most devoted priests," she explained. "He is a gifted healer and provides an invaluable service to this province." Raan just eyed her, waiting for his chance to retort to the not forgotten insult.
Kel bowed at the kind words. "You honour me, Milly. Thank you."
Milly looked back at Kel. "Answer me one more question, please Kel." She asked. "When was the last time Torm spoke to you directly?"
The smile faded from his face. "You know that Torm has never spoken to me, Milly." He answered. Raan concealed his surprise as he saw Kel become saddened by this line of questioning. "I pray to him and through my faith, His will is carried out."
Millys face filled with compassion. "Of course, Kel." she replied, her voice full of empathy. "No one is denying your faith, or your gifted skills as a healer." These words placed a forced smile back on Kel's face.
"Thank you, Milly," he bowed and began to move away. "I'll take my leave now."

Milly smiled back at Kel and slowly looked back to Raan, her smile completely diminished by the time she faced him.
"You were sent here, Raan, as your predecessor was sent here, because you do not realise just how unique your situation is."
Raan said nothing back, still stunned by the revelation that Kel had provided.
"Gods don't speak to people every day." She started as Raan's usual cold scowl began to evaporate.
"These priests, devote their entire lives to Torm and his edicts." she motioned around the room at the others who were tending chores or in deep prayer. "Some go their entire lives in service to Torm without being endowed with the ability to cast a simple cantrip."  Raan could now see where this was headed and braced himself for what was to come.
"And you!" Milly stood up, finger poking Raan's shoulder repeatedly. Her voice suddenly raised "You cant even respect a god, who endows you with such incredible power! Who speaks directly to you!" She continued her assault. "How long have you been in his service, Raan? A year? Not even?"
Raan moved her finger from his shoulder and raised his hands in surrender.
"All right, Milly!" He shouted over her voice, "I hear you!" wanting this much deserved berating to cease.
She paused, her anger now changing to a visage of hurtful pent up grief and words left unsaid.
She paced away from him a few steps then turned, as if she was about to launch into another lecture. She bit her lip, once, twice then looked away once more, shoulders slumped.
After what seemed like an eternity of silence, save the crackling of the hearth, Milly turned back to face him.
"You need to stop fighting Him and start listening to him, Raan." She said, quietly. Raan only sat there and nodded.
"It is one thing to believe in a god," she began as she sat down next to him and put her hands in his. "But to have a god believe in you! That is quite the rarity."
Raan looked her in the eyes for a long moment, stood up and walked away from Milly.
"Before you go," She called after him. Raan stopped and cocked an ear over his shoulder. "Should you ever pass this way again, have the respect to leave your weapons at the door."
As Raan walked away and caught a glint of silver above the stone arch. There, flanked by two torches hung an ornate bow and quiver etched in all too familiar markings. He halted again.
"What was my predecessors name?" He asked, not taking his eyes from the bow.
"That is a question fit for the start of a story, Raan, Chosen of Assuran." She replied, "You should have asked it then."
Raan nodded and smiled as he pulled the cowl over his head and moved silently back into the night.