Registered Member #1120
Joined: 4:36:33 am GMT 07/27/07
Posts: 491
She had been given an opportunity far beyond the scope of the station of life that she had been born to, and she fully intended to take the utmost advantage of this boon. Noticed and elevated from the serfdom that had been her entire reality, Zenaide Senha had been inducted into the very warband that had owned the labor of her hands for as long as she could remember. Still owned that labor, she reminded herself, only now what was asked of her had changed. There were weapons to master, armor to maintain, litanies to memorize and incorporate into her very soul, doubt to cast out. Most importantly, there was an entire world out there to subjugate to the will of The Black Hand, the very Lord of Darkness, Bane.
Zenaide had been given additional blessings suitable to one of her drive and focus. Under the strict and demanding instruction of Dark Brother Damien Mordach she refined, as if by plunging into fire, her technique with blade, shield, and body. Under his guidance, Zenaide had taken the next step in her journey, a Baptism of blood and bestowal of the Gift of but a minuscule portion of the power of The Dark One. This transcendental power was, as would be expected, far beyond any description that she could ever hope to express. As the darkness and warmth flooded her entire soul, a single thought branded itself irrevocably upon her mind.
ALL BELONGS TO ME. YOU WILL BRING THIS PLACE TO KNOW MY TRUTH.
Registered Member #1120
Joined: 4:36:33 am GMT 07/27/07
Posts: 491
She had understood that this life would not be easy, nothing worthwhile ever was. All her life she had heard others speak of just how large, strange and dangerous this Island was. The rumors, tales and gossip did not do this place justice. To start with, the size of it left her constantly footsore. Her training had helped prepare her for tromping about in her plate and boots, but no preparation was perfect. She had to earn her calluses the old fashioned way.
Thain’s broad diversity of inhabitants, hostile and otherwise, along with the sheer weight of the obvious effects of interference from foreign powers and other planes was almost confusing in its volume. She knew why the Warband was here, maybe these other groups and entities simply sought dominance as well. After all, many served Him without even knowing.
Outside of the walls of home there was an unceasing tide of challenges, especially from the settlements that opposed His supremacy, but danger often wandered its way into her home, as well. Upon returning home from an expedition to the south, Zenaide was greeted by the wailing of the maimed and dying from within the tunnel. Blood was wet and still pooling on the hard stone floor, just as hers was burning within her. Keeping her two-blader at the ready, she began a cautious jog into the tunnel. The sounds of clashing steel began resolving itself among the echoes of the tunnel, still a ways off, but Zenaide did not want to run full speed into an ambush. She had faith in her brothers and sisters, but without knowledge of what was causing this incursion, it served no one to be stupid in her approach.
She found a heavily injured, yet still conscious swordsman that had pulled himself into a nook in the cave wall. “What happened here!”, she demanded of the wounded man. “Kin” was all he managed to get out before clutching his bleeding side, pointing as well as he could further down the tunnel. She snagged a potion and bandage from her pack and rather unkindly set them in the warrior’s lap. “No dying yet. Once this is done get yourself to a priest, then back to the training ground.”, she sternly admonished him, then sped off in the direction indicated, at a faster clip than before.
As she rounded a corner, she saw him. The Kin was huge and surrounded by a pile of her fallen Warband members, armor dripping in their blood. He had an Aspirant to the Dark Brotherhood hanging limply from the one hand he was using to hoist him by his throat.
“YOU DARE!?”, she shouted in rage and more than a little fear.
“Try me”, he retorted simply, tossing the Aspirant to the side like garbage, turning on her and bringing his weapon to bear mercilessly. He hammered at her defenses, apparently hoping she would simply crumble under his brute force attacks as her compatriots had. She took strike after strike on the haft of her weapon, and although she nearly lost sensation in her hands and forearms, she held. The dragon-blooded warrior took a half-step back to properly assess his foe. As he did, Zenaide noticed through the slit of her helmet that a halbardier has risen to his feet leaning on the shaft of his weapon. Smirking under her steel hood, she took the opportunity and launched her own assault in an attempt to keep the enemy’s attention on her. With, in retrospect an arrogant amount of flourish, Zenaide spun her blades in broad arcing slashes attempting to bring them down at the joints of her opponent’s armor. She managed a few minor hits, but she managed to leave herself far too open for reprisals. The Kin struck a series of solid hits that, were it not for Brother Damien’s gift of blessed plate armor, she would have gone to her Lord in shameful disgrace. The foe struck her helmet like a bell, which nearly relieved her of her senses, and caused numerous enormous dents in her armor, even piercing it in two places. She gasped in pain at these, stepping herself back from the engagement only partly under her own power. As her opponent advanced on her, the heavily injured halbardier took his shot, scoring a powerful hit to the Kin’s back. The invader wheeled to face him, grabbing the haft of the soldier’s weapon, breathing heavily.
“Me, you bastard!”, Zenaide shouted as she returned to the assault, scoring more hits on the attacker’s damaged back armor. All three of the combatants were injured, bleeding and exhausted, somehow barely managing to keep themselves upright, but the struggle continued. In the combat-induced blur that followed, Zenaide could not be sure exactly what happened, but somehow or another, she and the soldier found themselves standing over the fallen body of their foe.
The soldier collapsed to his knees, holding himself up on his polearm. Zenaide nearly did so herself, instead handing one of her most powerful potions to the man that had assisted her in bringing the Kin down.
“Excellently done. What is your name?”
“Theodore, Dark Sister”, he got out between swigs of the magic liquid that was working to staunch his many injuries.
“You have earned honor from and on behalf of the Warband today. When you’re able to walk, send word to those inside the walls about what happened here. I’ll report as soon as I’ve figured out who this was.”
“Yes, Dark Sister.”, and the man was off far quicker than Zenaide would have thought.
Making a mental note to watch Theodire’s training and growth, Zenaide set about rifling through the Kin’s pockets and bags. Among a few bits of correspondence, she found his name.
“Richo, hmm? A shame you brought your wrath here today. I’d love to point this beast at my enemies and watch the fur fly.”
At this point, the body faded from view, rescued by the stones. Another oddity of this strange place.
Registered Member #1120
Joined: 4:36:33 am GMT 07/27/07
Posts: 491
After spending a great deal of time crisis-crossing the Island on various tasks for the Warband, Zenaide had come to internalize more and more her faith’s political position. The greatest indignation has come from their relationship, or the utter rubble that had formerly been their relationship, with the Red Wizards and their followers. Time spent studying the warbands’ records showed the degradation of cooperation between the Thayans and what had been one of the few religions practiced in the Thayan homeland. This bond was likely too far gone to be renewed, at least any time soon. The Warband still held good standing with the Watch and with Iron City, but not much else. The Dark Lord demanded strength from His followers and dominance over others, and the Warband held the fortress firmly, but expansion happened most effectively, and was held onto best, when force was focused on one enemy at a time. This did not require friendship, as those other forces were to eventually fall to His and His followers’ power, but could be accomplished through forbearance. It required the smooth tongue of diplomacy to enable us to best allow us to accomplish His will. It also required an understanding of the motivations of the various factions here on the Island.
Some days later, this brought the Dark Sister to where she stood, surrounded by stone and spider motifs. It brought her as a guest to the holdings of the Martron of the Mora. These elves were a mystery to her, so she had sought out this opportunity to learn. While she had expected them to be cold to outsiders, and they did not disappoint, she had been intrigued by the hostility that she had noticed in glancing looks out of the corner of her eyes that these Drow held for each other. She knew hatred and distrust, and it was so thick here she could smell it. The most glaring example was found in the hall of the Matriarch, who, despite the enormous strength of the defenders of the city’s walls, still surrounded herself with a small army of elite soldiers and spiders. These people CLEARLY don’t trust each other. It reminded her of the records of the old days of the Church of Bane, when the Dark One encouraged sectarian disputes and violence to cull the weak among His followers. There had been a philosophical shift somewhere along the way, and we had learned to work together to advance His cause, but these followers of Lolth had apparently not, except in the defeat of outside threats, at least as far as she could tell.
Filled with questions, and unable to read the books from the library, as they were all written in the Drow’s language, Zenaide set out to attempt to find someone willing to answer her questions.
((If any players of Drow characters wish to get in on this, let me know))
[ The Island of Thain ]
Path of a Dark Sister