Houseless

[cbnicholson]

I awoke to find my wounds bandaged and a priestess kneeling over me. Her red eyes flared angrily as I tried to sit up. "Stop! I barely managed to stop your lifeblood as it is you fool." I cease my struggles as the pain hits me and I remember the slashing blade that sundered by my magical shield as if it were paper and rent the now bandaged mess that is my stomach. The Priestess mutters some words of healing in a tongue unfamiliar to me and I feel a warmth pervade my body and I give up the struggle to remain conscious. As I slip into the long dream, I remember.

My name was once Be'min A'llwis, a house guard for what is now a lost house, one of many among the dark elves of the deep and best forgotten. I am a free fighter among those that pay a high price for treacherous acts, but nothing for the life that is taken. I fell among the house less and together we were inducted into one house war after another by our captain, a short, canny and slippery person by the name of H'wan Be'gal. He taught us to fight as a cohesive whole, not as the raiding parties as my people prefer to do, but he did so by bribes, threats, and beatings. We of the Free Guard learned our lessons well and amongst our ranks their was a level of battle trust not seen in most dark elf bands. We were in high demand by the various houses, most of whom sent our well trained ranks against their own slaves to put down rebellions, not that the cattle of the surface fought with any grace in the long dark being both nearly blind and lacking proper weapons. I was sickened by the slaughter and so sought a position as a scout for the company.

As one of the handful of scouts I am fortunate to not face the fighters of the opposition house in the last battle of the company. I heard the sounds of my comrades dying, their screams cut ruthlessly short by spells and blades as I relayed battle information to Captain H'wan on foot. "Sound the retreat" he hand signs to me and I rush to a high point and flash the sign. Turning, I realize to late we have been flanked by a group of fighters, it is then that I see my captain cut down and my own defense made useless by superior speed and skill.

Months pass with no real sense of time other than my slowly healing wounds and slacking body fever. The fever takes some of my memories and I mourn for many of the lost skills of stealth I am certain I once possessed. A nasty lump on the back of the head has left me with occasional bouts of dizziness and I feel clumsy, my balance is not what it once was. I compensate by building my strength as much as I can, volunteering to move trade goods into the compound under the watchful eyes of the house guards.

I soon realize I am a slave of the house we fought, I am put through some curious training as a slave. Forced to forgo the usual tongue and speak the wretched tongue of darthir, the surfacers along with the common trade tongue, I wonder what I am being trained for? My masters will not tell me and any questions only bring a beating, curiously enough, meant only to comply obedience through pain and not cripple me.

Finally, after many cycles, I am brought to a secret place, where I am forced to my knees in front of a matriarch. she smiles and I am immediately wary, among my people such acts are precursor to treachery. Slowly I relax in her presence as nothing occurs other than the change of her personal guard with the usual taunts and jeers I am accustomed to.

"You will do", She says to me, a sneer marring her perfect face as she takes in a whispered report from an underling priestess. "Attend my words carefully, male, from here out you are my personal spy and here is your target." She chants and with a fingertip forms an image of several dark elf females the air in front of me. One in particular strikes me as unusual. She has greenish eyes and copper hues to her hair. I look at the head priestess puzzled. "Those are your targets, warrior, and they now travel to the above, seeking those of us who have turned from the deep ways. You are to find this particular female and submit to her, and gain her trust. You will have ten years in which to do this before another of my spies will contact you for information. Do you understand?" I nod in acceptance, at least as a spy I will not be forced into slaughtering the helpless. "Yes, High One, it shall be as you say."

With that, I am lead ever upward, to meet others who travel in the same fashion. We speak little to each other as we travel and but I note there are no females amongst our numbers. The air grows cold and is filled with smells I am unaccustomed to until finally we gaze upon a mountains under bright moonlight. My guide, an aging priest, grants me the ability to withstand the cold warning me in surface elf that I must make haste to a human city called Vehl. I step out into the moonlight with some apprehension as my recent traveling companions go their separate ways. I barely survive the long trek to the human city of Vehl as first the blinding light of the accursed daystar hampers my journey and all my training in stealth is tested by white furry beasts I later learn are called the Yeti.

[cbnicholson]

Tunar, Junar 17, 1445

I have made it to my designation and found the targets the high priestess commanded me to.  She was wise to suspect the copper haired one of treachery for she uses the high priestess' name in all she does.  Her true name she keeps hidden and I have not heard whisper or rumor of what it may be yet.  Solena she calls herself and she tempers and hones me like I temper and hone my own blade.  

I am nothing but a weapon or tool to her and her contempt is clear.  "Use your mouth less and ears more" She tells me.  Obviously my words are unheeded and unwanted in any situation.  Solena bids me to regain my fighting skills and equip myself with the best the darthir have to offer.  I have worked to this end and while as treacherous as any female of my kind, her power is growing, but by Baraeon's blade I will have her entrails hang from my fine steel blade yet, for I truly despise her whatever her true name be.

[cbnicholson]

Mulnari, Jenra 9, 1450

    I am tired of living like an animal. Five years have passed in this wretched place and I have been trying to avoid my kind. I seek refuge among the animals, being hunted and the hunter in order to survive. Today, no more, I am a fighter and I will not lie down among the timid animals of the forests and die. I came forth and found her, Ca'Duz curse me to the nine hells, that treacherous female I am commanded to serve and submitted to my bloodlust. The War Wizard, Naster, used his enchantments to make me stronger and hardier with a skin of stone and we practiced our battle prowness against the insects of the red caves. Nothing could stand against us and despite the contempt in her eyes, I could tell the priestess was impressed.

    After the haze of my bloodlust left me, I found myself remembering more of my past and felt shame, shame at submitting to my inner fire as the blood and sickly gore of my slain enemies drove my arm to fiercer strikes. This is not the way of a disciplined warrior, but the way of the butcher. With this thought foremost in my mind, I began the cleansing blade ritual, first wiping my katana in the grass then meditating for a long time in a clearing. Finally , at peace with myself and in tune with my body, I able to return to my training in earnest.

    Be'min A'llwis of the Houseless.

[cbnicholson]

Sunra, Mai 8, 1451

Be'min stuides the initials stamped in elvin script upon his katana as well as the eloquence of its design. KP they read, he scratches his old wounds on the back of his head.  "The one who forged this blade knew metal and bladework," he muses then begins his morning routine of stretches and katas.  "I will regain my skill someday, I will make myself bend as this blade does, if for no other reason than to throw off this yoke of servitude."  His routine finished, Be'min contemplates the blade in the forest clearing- It speaks of strength, flexibility, and deadly precision to him.  "Yes, I will become what she wishes, but not because she wills it, but because I do." His vow and meditations finished, Be'min begins making his rounds gathering materials to trade.

My recent journeys have be training with her and her other lackeys, I despise them all, especially that Cra'xis and his smug superiority with magic.  The fool has shown his callous disregard for any sort of coordination in our attacks, blasting our foes with more fire magic than is called for and burning me to death once now.  My spirit lingered and I saw Solena beginning a dark rite to her goddess and I fled to the bind stone to stop its progress.  Healing and power I will accept from her goddess, but not life.  Such a thing would taint my soul and I will not have it.  Perhaps I should betray her purpose to the surfacers.  The fools, they are so complacent, suffering this snake of a woman to live.  Who do I contact? I have no friends among the surfacers, certainly no one I can
trust with my secret.  Be'min stares at the initials on his katana once again..perhaps...

[cbnicholson]

Freas, Jular 13, 1451

Her trickery should not have surprised me, but it did.  The vile priestess thought to ensnare me in the slavery of the oldest kind by commanding me to accompany her to inn.  Luckily,  she did not command me to her bed, so I posted myself at her door and stood guard as she slept.  In the darkness, my rage flared inside me, yet I forced myself calm and waited to hear the faint sounds of her slumber.  Unbarring the door, I stepped outside, leaving her to whatever fate the gods willed and made my way to the Arena.  As I closed upon its door, I paused and considered my personal dilemma.  I was a slave in body, but did not have to be in mind.  As I did so I heard two men approaching, one a ranger by his garb, the other a warrior of some stature.  Both appeared to have some Darthir blood to them, so I stepped into the shadows of the crypt and summoned a small globe of shadow to conceal myself.  As they stepped inside I followed at a safe distance, ducking behind some benches and pillars quickly.  I was grateful my armor was carefully packed in my cloak, as I moved deeper into the recesses and watched them face off.

"On Guard", the taller of the two said in elven to the one in green."You must defeat me three times to my ten to succeed," he added bringing his katana up in a defensive stance.  I watched intrigued at the ensuing battle.  The more experienced fighter calmly parrying and dodging each of the others  attacks. I took note of their styles, very similar to each others and to my own.  Each possessed a focus I admired, even if they were surfacers or were they?  The movements of the man in green tickled my memories of fighting underground and I leaned forward from the shadows, truly intrigued now.  As the contest drew to a close, the man in green never once touched the other but for one time.  He  summoned a globe of darkness and blinded the larger of the two, thereby securing a hit and a muffled curse, which quickly turned into praise, congratulating him on his success.  I made a mental note of the tactic and silently applauded the man in green, my suspicion about his nature having been confirmed.  Here was someone who used what he had as I did.

"I failed, Teacher!" was the green ones lament at the fights conclusion. "I had to trick you to hit you."

"No, you did not," was the response, "you fought well and I consider you a battle brother.  You have earned that right not by skill, but in your determination."  Before they could refresh themselves and leave I took my own, slipping out as quietly as I had entered.  Finding my hiding spot once again, I waited for their exit, as they did so I noted the elvish script KP on each of their katana's and my excitement caused my night vision to flair in the shadows, I turned away quickly to avoid detection.  These men were what I wanted to be, masters of the blade.

"Good night, Kyle," I heard the man in green say as they parted company.  My mind raced to the initials, this was Kyle Pandorn!  the maker of my own blade!  Subduing my excitement, I quickly memorized his body movements and face and vowed to show myself when next he appeared at the Arena.  A warrior such as this must respect the desire to become one with the blade, I would risk discovery to be taught by such a man, even if he was a surfacer.  For now, I will redouble my efforts at footwork and overcoming my injury.  I made my way quickly back to the inn as they departed by ship, Mistress must not know of my absence.

Be'min Allwis of the Houseless Dark,
Darkblade to those of the surface.

[cbnicholson]

Threas, Febra 26, 1452

I have finally met and seen the Mastermind of our race here on the surface.  He appears as a wizard and priest of the Prince of Hate.  By any measure, he is formidable.  Even Mistress defers to his judgment, and I am commanded to do the same.  While in thier company, I provided security for a kidnapping of  some priestess required for his dark rite.  While in the act, a foolish dwarf stumbled upon us.  He would not be intimidated or warned and died a horrible death at the hands of my companions.  Cut to
pieces and mutilated with misdirection - Corathite symbols left in his flesh for the law to find.  

Mistress' standing orders are to dig sand, to provide materials so that our small band can outfit themselves better through the magic of the Dark Priest.  I have done as she commanded, although the punishing daystar is brutal upon my eyes.  To this end I have purchased a beast of burden.  Once his pack is full of glass, I will seek a contract unless Mistress provides a storage place.

I recently met more of our kind on the surface.  One of these,Eriis,  thinks he has gained my acceptance and trust, but I know better.  Trust amongst our kind is akin to asking for a knife in the back.  He has given me the key to some written code. "A way to communicate he tells me."  Inside I scoff, the hand language of warriors is enough for me.  Its nuances of meaning inside simple gestures are all I need.  The lessons of my former Captain H'wan are not forgotten.  No plan survives first contact with the enemy and of course Captain's personal favorite - Keep it simple, stupid. Still, I will keep his precious scrap of paper.  He plots against Mistress I think, such knowledge is leverage.  

I recently met up with Mistress Solena and her lackey, Cra'xis, and we traveled with four surfacers, a couple were the hated Darthir.  I found all of them incompetent and tiresome.  Their simple intentions and motivations pitiful in thier transparency.  One Darthir female seemed so scared she stuttered and shivers in our mere presence.  That one will make a suitable plaything and after..I will give her pieces to Mistress as a token.

My personal goal of oneness with my blade progresses.  Although my right leg refuses some of my commands due to my head injury I have discovered a staggered step thrust that compensates.  Soon I will seek out, Lana's father, Master Kyle.  I have decided not to confide in him, but will learn blade mastery non-the-less, if he is willing.

Darkblade.

[cbnicholson]

A near silent slash of a dark colored katana falls upon the multiple eyes of a large spider deep in Silkwood and its owner's noisome screams echo dimly against the boughs.  Grimly, Be'min sheathes his instrument of death and stalks toward another of the fearsome predators, intent on his killing as he does so his thoughts wander.

More than ten seasons I have lingered here under these dark trees, slaying when I can and eating when I must.  Ca'Duz would not approve of my prey. chuckles coldly Again I have become the hunter, intent on only the motion of this husk of a body to occupy the time.  No signs of the others, were our crimes successful in elevating the Priest to his exalted place that he wished for? Sneers in the darkness, his eyes glowing red with hateful emotion I care not, yet even I must seek out the others of my kind if for no other reason than to hear word of the Deep and beyond.

Be'min continues his stalking, slaying several more spiders before emerging into a peaceful vale.  With cold stare at vale's tenders he makes his camp after securing several smaller insects to eat and refilling his battered canteen.  He settles in and waits, enjoying the gloom and the rustling of the small forest creatures that obviously fear his blade.