This is a work in progress between myself and my partner who is not signed on here but he's a good guy who has the better half belonging to my own main character. I hope to get this published with his help but we'll see what happens as this story unfolds.
Forgotten Realms is a copyright of Wizards of the Coast, where this story takes place.
Chapter 1 and Prologue
A century has passed since the Spellplague ravaged the land of Faerun, which is part of the Prime Material Plane of Toril. Since then, many things have changed; old and forgotten lands had appeared while other places were either wiped out completely, changed into what is now called Plaguewrought Lands, or is still affected by unruly and wild magics to varying degrees. A good example on how things have changed when Mystra, the Goddess of the Weave that controlled Arcane Magic, was killed by Shar's assassin, is a castle on the edge of the High Moor. This castle is named Dragonspear Castle, where a portal to a Hellish dimension had been sealed up after a large army of men and women from three different municipalities joined forces to cleanse the unholy place. Before the Spellplague occurred, there was a standing army to make sure the place didn't again become infested with demons or was invaded by those from the Underdark which a passage exists even today in the depths of the fortress. Now, it stands empty as it once did as losses are slowly recovered from and civilization is slowly given a much needed boost. It is a time for new heroes as well as villains to rise. It is a time of uncertainty, of hope gained as well as lost, of love found and monsters slain, and of adventures that lie ahead for those that would dare tread such dangerous roads in pursuit of glories untold or for more personal reasons such as seeking redemption for past misdeeds. Whatever the case might be, this is one such tale.
Being a lone wanderer, a sword for hire, and so much more was hard work even at the best of times. Sometimes one got lucky and found a relatively easy job that required something simple such as slaying a roving band of pesky goblins. Others were a bit harder, such an example being finding a magical item in a fortified encampment filled with everyday monsters and wild animals that have made their homes in such places. Then there were the jobs only the best dare take, such as clearing a long abandoned castle that could potentially have a portal to a Hellish Plane of Torment and Pain that needed to be closed lest an army of demons pour out of the ruins. Today was one of those days that this particular lone wanderer wished she had taken a bit of an easier job, closing the distance between herself and a monster that would not be easy to take down, even for her, but the gods had been with her so far despite the fact she wondered often if they still paid any mind to Toril anymore. Considering she had been born in the midst of the greatest chaos and darkness the world had ever seen, she tended to lean with the idea that the gods were either dead or just didn't care anymore, either way it was the same considering the mess the world was in, or had been for a whole century, the chaos finally settling down only last year or so.
Considering her luck today, the elven warrior had to wonder as she dodged a powerful swipe from a rock giant that had thought it a good idea to make its home near the edge of Dragonspear Castle's outer walls, or rather what was left of it anyway. As a rule, rock giants, or stone giants as they were more commonly called, were considered one of the best when it came to slinging rocks great distances, but to her credit, the black cloaked woman had managed to get into melee range without having a single rock tossed her way, having by some small miracle spotting the creature before it had seen her and had thus been able to sneak up on it until a few feet away from being able to strike at it. Her father had trained her well in the half century she had stayed at home before starting out on the road in her own efforts to make a good name for herself. Now a hundred even, the elven woman's brown eyes narrowed to slits as she took a temporary reprieve behind a largely unbroken piece of the outer wall, needing to catch her breath since she had had to fight every step of the way once the old castle that had been abandoned yet again after the Spellplague came and went, no thanks to a large group of wild orcs that weren't under the green skinned hand of one of King Obould's descendants, the founder of the Many Arrows Kingdom long since dead, as well as a group of kobold slaves the orcs had kept, came into sight a couple of hours ago. Now, with a rock giant in her way to the castle, the elven warrior was getting quite tired as well as annoyed. The sound of thunderous footsteps sounded as the giant looked for her, too close to effectively squash her with any thrown projectile, so it was opting for an up close and personal touch. A bad move on the giant's part.
Throwing her hood back with one dark skinned hand, the silver gray haired woman came out of hiding as she again drew her father's blades for the last time today, hoping to get some much needed rest before her foray into the castle itself the next day, and ran in hard. With the setting sun behind her, the light seemed to reflect off of her slender swords as well as the black mithril chainmail jerkin which had a foaming mug standard across her chest, the symbol of Clan Battlehammer and her clear alliance to the sturdy and stout hearted dwarves, she wore under her cloak, brown leather boots adorning her feet, and a pair of black animal hide leather pants hugged her lithe frame quite well. The giant was too slow to hope to keep up to the darting figure that quickly sank her swords deep into sinew and bone on her way by, making the rock giant tumble as its right hamstring was sliced in two before it felt another sharp pain that sent pure agony to the rest of its body as its groin was taken out before it felt light feet on its back. Unable to stand, the rock giant didn't know its doom had fell until its neck was sliced open from ear to ear as both blades formed an X underneath its chin before being pulled up hard. The deed done and the creature dead long before it hit the ground, the elven warrior cleaned her father's heavily enchanted blades on the grass that had found its way through the stone at her feet that used to be part of the castle grounds, once perfectly smooth and well maintained, now had many cracks if not outright bare patches of dirt present, before sheathing them in a sword belt on her slender hips. Brushing a slender and dexterous hand through her hair, the dark elf woman pulled her hair into a tight ponytail, but didn't bind it as such before letting her hair fall back across her back. Turning to the corpse, her brown eyes lost their hard edge as did her fair face as she searched among the rubble that used to be Dragonspear Castle until she found a relatively secure spot to set up camp for the night.
Starting a small fire in a pit lined with rocks, the dark skinned warrior was glad she had such skills given to her from her father despite her initial reason for leaving, which had been selfish at the time perhaps but such was the way of things when you looked like the light elves' most hated enemy, among most of the other goodly races to boot who considered dark elves to be the most vile and wicked of any sentient race. Taking out a leather bound book, worn and faded from its initial brown color, the bindings holding it together worn as well, it still held up to the road well enough, she took out a small ink well and a white feather quill pen and began to write in smooth, flowing script, each letter a testament to her skill with a blade which the monsters in the region already feared for good reason since most that had survived her father's adventures knew better than to tempt fate with the daughter of that same legendary rogue and ranger to Mielikki, the goddess of the forests and the wild places that yet stood in these dark times. For now, she wrote of the day's events and silently wondered what had brought her to this desolate and dark place, although she knew the story, just even to her sharp mind and strong will, it seemed a blur in some regards. It helped to write it down, to keep a chronicle of her adventures, and to give herself another outlet for the inevitable loneliness that always fell upon her on nights like this. The few true friends she had were not cut from the same cloth she was, not by a long shot, and so she had no one that would travel with her as her father had so long ago.
The third day on the road since leaving that small farming village, and I have yet to see any true sign of the Hell Portal opening up save for increased monster activity in the High Moors, which I passed through the southern most edge to get to my destination. On the other hand, all the world has suffered greatly since the Spellplague's arrival when I was first born, my twin older brothers being a year older than me. Our mother died giving me life, and while I wish I knew her even to this day, I am grateful for the gift she gave to me in carrying me to term. Regardless, that is neither here nor there. To tell it again, I took a mission from a Harper Agent on my way through Luskan to visit my brother who is a mage in the rebuilt city and the restored Host Tower of the Arcane, the man being a mage and a good one at that, far outranking me in terms of magical skill. Before I made it to the island that holds the Tower however, the Harper approached me at the entrance to the City of Sails, and asked for the help from the daughter of the legendary rogue and ranger. I almost turned him down since while I love my father with all of my being, I do not like being reminded of how far I have to go to ever hope of getting out from under his shadow, even if he often said that I need not prove myself in any way to him. It is my choice, and my choice alone to do so, and again while I love what he had been and what he has become in my eyes, as well as the eyes of all those he had touched in some form or another through his heroic deeds, I cannot live off of his glory alone. I need my own since I face the same racial hatred that he did when he first came to the surface. While it is less now, it is still common for me to be turned away in most taverns or inns I try to go into, if not outright threatened with violence, which I try to defuse before any injuries are dealt out.
