((Thanks to Misty and the others for providing such good fabric to work with both written and in game. My apologies for being more of a narrator than a writer of dialogue.
-Bill))
Beleg stood on the deck of the human ship watching the light of the moons play over the ocean,
a handful of elven guards watching quietly while the human crew went about their business
"Salt air and the sound of waves, if it weren't for the abominations that haunt our trail I'd almost feel at home," Beleg thought to himself.
Memories of more graceful ships and smaller boats sailing about Evermeet drift into his mind; Beleg starts to sway more comfortably with the waves relaxing with thoughts of home
a loud shout from the crow's nest shakes him from his musings
Two sails coming up fast, flying Luskan colors!
Tell the Captain!
Beleg rushed belowdecks without thought to interrupt the discussion the Captain and the others were having about their course and vague destination. Skidding to a halt as he rounded a corner he found the others around a table full of nautical charts and a tense-looking Roderick with drawn sword. Only hearing the tail end of the conversation being something about hearing heavy feet coming down the stairs Beleg barely had time to feel insulted; my feet aren't 'that' heavy he thought.
With the Captain engrossed in his charts Beleg had to repeat the message twice before getting a response
Captain! Two sails on the horizon bearing Luskan colors!
With a scowl of a concern the Captain and others hurried up to the deck. Upon seeing warships on either side of theirs Adellie said, "That's a lot closer than the horizon."
Beleg didn't have much time to ponder his mistranslation of what the lookout had yelled when he got up on deck. A curt order to heave to and be searched was quickly followed by arrows lofting from both Luskan ships and a fierce battle followed.
Shafts from elven longbows and ballista bolts flew quickly to their marks and searing lights from spells cast by our three mages lit up the night. Beleg fell into the manipulating the Weave and forgot his worries about searing headaches taking a fierce joy in small magical bolts he could summon. Clusters of four bolts wrought havoc on each target they struck be they man or ballista. The brighter lights and arrows of fire let him know that Adellie and Isania were hard at work as well.
The duel went long enough that Beleg was left loosing arrows and mopping sweat from his forehead, but the Luskan ships finally wanted nothing more of having their crew being turned into pincushions and they began to fall away into the distance. Beleg and the others leaned on their bows and the railings of the ship while Delawyn and officers started to heal the wounded and take stock of the injured.
Adellie went below for some reason while the others caught their breath.
A respite broken by her piercing scream.
Beleg charged below hot on the heels of Delawyn, caution forgotten with his friend's wife in peril, Beleg skidded around the corner to catch a glimpse of a clinging magical darkness filling the Captain's stateroom. Before he could find a target or try to counter the darkness with a light spell a heavy blow struck him between the shoulder blades, spinning him around and thoroughly disorienting him.
Regaining his balance Beleg found himself facing a red-skinned fey'ri, wings furled in the narrow hall, who was swinging an ice encrusted short sword at Beleg. The flames of Perel's longsword met the frost of the other sword for only a moment before the shorter blade found its way through Beleg's guard. Fast, then faster and faster ... the blows came in from angles Beleg had never imagined and he knew he was overmatched, he'd be in Arvandor soon if he didn't do something desperate. Feinting to his left and shifting direction suddenly back the other way only bought him a moment of time, just enough to let his sword hang by its lanyard while he snatched a potion from a pocket on his belt. Delawyn's sword provided a bit more of a distraction as he downed the potion and vanished from sight before he all but through himself down the hallway, a trail of his own blood marking his passage on the floor.
Three ... five ... ten steps down the hall before slamming into a door and grinding to a halt ...
the world suddenly moving in slow motion.
It seemed like it took forever to open the potion bottles.
Beleg nearly screamed in relief as his wounds stopped bleeding and partially healed. Another potion to make sure he could see if he stumbled into the magical darkness was just as slow and bitter to drink.
Turning to view the fight took another lifetime, searing pain shooting through his legs and arms where the icy blade had opened terrible wounds. "Delawyn, brother!" Beleg thought upon seeing him locked in a struggle with the fey'ri, putting up a grand effort but struggling and swinging more wildly than normal.
It was then that the fey'ri spun and Beleg could finally see its eyes ...
he saw his own death there,
then watched as from a great distance as he stepped forward unseen to swing at the fey'ri killer.
His arm ghosted into view as his sword began moving, a strike that the fey'ri blocked in an almost casual manner,
all of Beleg's tricks seeming simple to this abomination so far was he out of his depth.
Beleg had a heartbeat to admire the fey'ri's skills ...
then death focused its gaze upon and Beleg knew only a few heartbeats were left to him.
The elven arrowhead that burst through the throat of the fey'ri took everyone by surprise.
Everyone but one archer that is.
It might have been losing so much blood,
it might have been a trick of the light,
but Beleg's eyes saw Laurelin step gracefully from the magical darkness only a few paces away like an avenging messenger of the Moonbow. He nearly fainted at the sight of her and the sudden realization that he wasn't going to die just that moment.
"Tambina" was all he thought ...
twas a struggle, but he left the name unsaid somehow.
“Did,” Beleg gasped in the dark, “did we get both?”
“I don't know,” Adellie answered. “I couldn't see half the time. Where is the lady?”
“Up top!” Roderick cried, running for the stairs.
Beleg staggered up the stairs behind Roderick to find another fey'ri assassin had paralyzed Lady Isania somehow. It led Roderick and Beleg on a chase up the sterncastle of the ship where it launched itself into the air to escape. Beleg collapsed to the ground, too exhausted and drained of blood to pull his bow while Roderick loosed bolts and then bolts of lightning from a wand after the fey'ri. It faltered a moment, but flapped on into the distance.
Beleg stirred after a time and realized he either had or had nearly passed out from the pain. The others were ... he shook his head and staggered to his feet then down two flights of stairs to get belowdeck.
“Are you alright?” Roderick asked someone down the hall and out of sight.
Laurelin's answer sounded sharp from pain “I am really, really hurt. She’s mine.”
Roderick's statement of “She’s the one who you’ve been hunting then,” was answered with a flat "Yes," from Laurelin.
Beleg slumped against the wall, knees all but giving out on him. Healing potions would only do so much when one had lost as much blood as he had. Beleg's mind reeled a moment with frustration "I left her alone to fight that ... again" he thought.
“Need to be carried?” Roderick asked.
“No,” she answered flatly.
Roderick walked past all but unnoticed by Beleg whose eyes were fixed on Laurelin ... drenched in blood and with crossbow bolts sticking from her armor in several places, dragging the body of a female fey'ri with some difficulty
“Lo“ he started, barely avoiding calling her Love, upon seeing her.
“Oh, Laurelin ...” words failed him, the agony he felt from seeing and feeling her wounds probably hidden by the mask of blood covering his own features.
The healing prayer Delawyn chanted took him so offguard that his head spun again. Beleg hoped he looked grateful when he looked at Delawyn, but it took some time for the shivering of the surprise healing to subside.
“I got her,” Laurelin said as she dropped the assassin's foot.
Beleg knew for sure it was the assassin she'd been dueling with for days who she'd slain. She sat on the floor next to the winged corpse and Beleg slumped down to sit beside her both exhausted and wearing too much of their own blood.
“Beleg?” Laurelin whispered softly, “Look at her things? Tell me if I can use them?”
Relief and a touch of awe showing on his face Beleg answered softly, “Marvelously fought, Tambina. That one made me look like I'd never picked up a blade before.”
Laurelin said nothing for a moment and put the crossbow and bolts before him, then pointed to the dead creature’s armor.
His eyes widening, “Fine arrows. And bolter.”
“Yes. They hurt a lot.”
“Give me a few minutes with the armor. I'll puzzle it out for you.”
She nodded, turning to strip the armor and other valuables from from the body, emotionless after the battle.
“Tis,” he began, rubbing the back of his neck, “some enchantment, might go well with those bracers in the end.” His voice dropped to a whisper, she thought he seemed afraid of the answer, “Was that the same one? Or were there three here then? The one that... god, he was magnificent with a blade.”
“I killed two.”
Beleg removed his gauntlets, fingertips gently touching her cheek as she finished removing the leather armor from the corpse. “Bonny lass, you did kill them. Thank you.”
Laurelin looked at him and he could see the pain in her eyes yet as she shivered, “I told you. Hard...” she said.
Beleg nodded, “Love, I know, I had to hide and run. That one,” pointing towards the other body in the hall, “I was a toy to him. I'd not have lasted a minute alone.” Laurelin stared quietly a moment without answering, Beleg with a look of frustration at his weakness on his face.
“I have a potion that should let me make sense of that shirt you hold. Let me look again. Or after the others show me what else they have found,” Beleg whispered.
“I want to know now, if possible.”
“Without the others knowing?” he had the potion half out of his pocket.
“Yes. I hear they stripped the other body already. And possibly this one as well, if Roderick searched two. She was my kill. My spoils. And you know I claim little.” She handed the armor over after he finished drinking.
Beleg's mind focused better after drinking the bitter potion and a short incantation let him see the Weave more clearly ... the leather shirt lit up with dark fires as the combination let him see ... his hiss was involutary and he nearly dropped the shirt
*softly and fear creeping into his voice*
“Beware this, love. Please.”
Beleg winced on the inside, he needed to stop calling her that.
Laurelin cradled the armor in her lap, examining the symbol.
“Tisn't a simple enchantment. Nor something,” his voice hitched as he shivered. “Twasn't made for anyone with a warm heart.”
He pulled himself together and watched her rise holding the armor. "She couldn't ... she can't use it" he thought. He knew, but he prayed anyhow ... he'd been away too long and Laurelin might take news of the armor better from the Lady instead of him.
“I need to go clean these.”
“The Lady might be able to tell you more of that, Laurelin.”
Beleg slumped slightly in relief when Laurelin paused near Lady Starym, “When you've a moment, lady, Beleg wishes I ask you of this shirt. He worries, but will say no more.”
Worry creased his brow as he watched her anyhow. Somethings he couldn't help. Caring about her safety was one he'd not try to stop.
Beleg struggled to his feet and went to the corner where Laurelin and Lady Isania sat. “Thank you,” his relief palpable. “I can tell you, but the Lady likely knows more.”
‘Hmm?” Isania returned from her thoughts, then amended, “I'll do what I can.”
Laurelin traced the center symbol, “What is this part, at least?” Isania frowned. “That bad?”
Lady as she whispered, “It is the work of the elven kingdoms of old, Laurelin.” She brushed her hand along the symbol, whispering the name, “Aryvandar.”
“Aryvandar?” Laurelin repeated louder than a whisper.
Beleg frowned and nodded while the Lady continued, “Definitely the work of the Vyshaan. Sometime after the Third Crown War.”
Delawyn stopped whatever he was doing, hurriedly speaking, “Get rid of it. No good will come of the artifacts of the Vyshaan.”
Isania amended, “Only if the person who uses them is unpure.”
“I've dealt with one such thing before in Baldur's Gate,” Delawyn shook his head, turning to go abovedeck. “No good will come of it.”
Laurelin kept her head bowed as she rose, “Tis meant for the coldest of hearts, Laurelin,” Beleg pleaded. She dragged the armor wearily up the stairs to the deck. Isania called to her, but when Laurelin stopped, she did not finish her thought. Beleg chimed in, “You don’t need that power,” Beleg continued.
Unspoken he thought, "Power like that won't help your dance, twill only bring sorrow."
