Melanie Blackwood, soldier of misfortune.
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Midnight, midwinter screams through the pane less windows of an unlit two room hut on the northern outskirts of Cormyrs' Suzail. The retired elven duelist, Rafael Blackwood, stokes a dying fire throbbing breaths of comfort near the cradle of his newborn baby girl. His wife, Mary-Alice Swan adds bits of cloth and the finished portion of her recent knitting project to the crib as the crying baby lay cold and hungry. The fire struggles to find its necessary recipe for heat, flame, and energy expulsion. All of which were near null. Mary-Alice hurries to the blown open window, and slams the shudders closed, setting the lock hook. The dulled draft allows the chimney to properly regulate oxygen/heat intake to the bits of dry grass and twigs that lay on the fireplace floor. A few slow, aimed breaths and a spark turns the pile of rubble into a glowing beacon of life. The distressed infant pauses the fit of discomfort to bathe in awe as the night light illuminated the dark, untreated oak that sheltered the small family from the harsh Cormyrian winter.
The door explodes open. Splinters are thrust through the air as the chilling wind deploys its Blitzkrieg tactics, petrifying the floor and damn near solidifying the very space within. A lone shadow stands the only obstacle for the rushing wind. A heavily furred man steps into the house and observes the area. His goggled eyes scan the dark, mildly furnished living room and immediately strides to the left as a razor sharp, gem encrusted rapier comes slicing down aimed at his right shoulder. The man draws his scimitar.
"You know why I am here." The seemingly Yeti looking male speaks with a harsh, weathered voice.
"You may not have her. Not now, not ever. You shall never take that which come from my own blood." The child’s father defends, setting his stance and moves in for the thrust.Parried.
"You're getting slow in your old age Blackwood."
"I'm simply sizing my opponent, Darius. Do not forget who it was that taught you how to use that butchers knife." Rafael refocused his step, setting his guard to its fullest.
"I am not here to kill you, fool. Give me the child, and I will be gone. You know I cannot return without her. Do not break the oath to which you took. You had your life of fame and fortune with the help of the Academy, now you are obligated to fulfill your end of the bargain." The heavy man declared.
"You shall have her over my dead body." A twirl of the Rapier sings a sweet song of death that echoes through the gusty room.
"Then it shall be." The scimitar lunges from the left arm of Darius. A parry attempt from the time-tested Rafael proves unsuccessful, as a loud thump is heard throughout the house.
Mary-Alice rushes to her husbands side, a standard issued scimitar stands erect in the abdomen of the once great swordsman. She screams in sadness, tugging on the weapon as if its release would resurrect the father of her child. Darius, without a word steps past the grieving widow toward the cradle. He dips his hand down and scoops up the small, hairless baby girl wrapped wholly in thick cloth and thin furs. Darius tucked the girl into his vest and turned toward the door. Mary-Alice, in utter shock, grabs Rafael’s' rapier and swings with revengeful intent toward the upper thigh of Darius' right leg. The blade connects, slicing a good inch through the fur and skin. He limps for a moment catching his balance then turns and drives his elk skin boot into the nasal casing upon the widows' nose. She is knocked instantly unconscious. The man walks from the hut leaving a thin trail of blood with uneven footprints, and a peaceful family in pieces.
The next five years of the child’s life were actually pretty normal. She was raised by a team of midwives and nannies in a small complex hidden among Thunder Peaks, a mildly large mountain near the eastern province of Cormyr. The complex consisted of three connected wings creating U shaped structure. A ten foot high wall constructed of pine posts surrounded the complex, making only one way in and one way out. Guards stood every fifty paces along the wall. The white, snow covered roof blended the building with the mountain slopes, almost impossible to find without a map, or eyes like a hawk. Within the complex, hosted an array of different rooms each with different purposes. Half a dozen rooms were designated to living quarters, both for instructors and students alike. Boys were separated from girls at all times when not in within the consult of an instructor due to the limited amount of fraternization allowed to the students. They were taught to read, and write. Some learned to fence, others archery, some even were gifted with the arcane arts, and taught to study magic. The students at this academy were all brought there at a very young age. If you recall the aforementioned infant girl, she was brought as repayment of a debt constructed long before her time. The students were given new names at this academy. This specific girl was named Melanie. Melanie matured from a young age faster than most of her peers. She learned to speak first, dress herself before the others. She was often the strongest in her physical skill assessments. Her martial ability was far superior than the others. She even beat every boy when sparing with simple wooden swords made from strung together bamboo. Her skill and ability to learn quickly took the notice of the Academy's headmaster. Darius watched Melanie grow from a baby. His relationship with Rafael was once a strong bond, so his dutiful obligation to ensure the safe, and proper upbringing of Melanie was a priority.
(Twenty years later.)
A foursome of adult men and women kneel before an altar, sitting on their heels. A man, clad in red robes and donning a six foot tall staff stands in between the altar and the crowd. The room is small with natural, stony texture all along the surfaces lit only by half a dozen torches driven into the ground around the perimeter.
"My children," Called the shadow ridden priest. “today is the most magnificent day in your entire lives. Today you shall become all that you were meant to be. I have no doubt that you will all succeed in the tasks prepared for you. Go now with the Knight watching over you." The preacher preached his empty words as the group all rose, bowing their heads respectfully and turning toward the exit.
"Blackwood, Sitterman come here." Melanie and Alayna were called upon and without hesitation re- adverted their attention toward the altar, bowing their heads.
"I've devised a special assignment for the two of you." said Darius, pulling down his ceremonial hood.
"Yes headmaster, of course." Melanie replied for the both of them most of the time.
"I need you to travel by horseback to the town of Selgaunt, in the country of Sembia. There you will meet a captain with a large vessel to which you will board and await further instructions upon your arrival.” Darius spoke to the pair with utmost sincerity, keeping his gaze direct to their respectful kneeling.
“When do you wish us to depart, Headmaster?” Melanie lifted her chin, to speak at Darius in an almost defiant manner.
“At once, Blackwood. You and Sitterman will ride through the night and continue on until nightfall next. You should arrive by this time tomorrow.” Darius instructed.
Melanie and Alayna bowed their heads and walked out of the ritual room. They headed straight for their quarters to pack what little personal belongings they had. Melanie had a knight chess-piece carved from quartz that a young boy had made for her when she was sixteen. That was as far as their relationship went. Alayna had a necklace made from a hemp-like twine with small pebbles laced in. The colors of the stones varied from bright blue, to crimson red. There was even some yellow ones for contrast. They gathered their tunics and robes. Melanie and Alayna always carried around their weapons. As did all students at the Academy.Alayna was taught in the art of archery. She could cut a piece of hair with an arrow launching from thirty yards away. Her skill was admirable, to say the least. Melanie had always had a lust for blades. She started using two simple daggers as a young girl. She thought the idea of keeping them hidden in her sleeves was genius. When she was about sixteen or so, she tried her hand at fencing. She was good with her feet. Her balance spot on, however she couldn't handle the defensive techniques she was forced to use. She was an attacker, not a blocker. At seventeen and a half she was given a greatsword for comical effect. It was heavy, but she managed to carry it fairly well. She could adapt to its weight while lunging forward and shattering any target placed in front of her. She found her calling.
Prepared and anxious, the two left the stables on a sibling pair of Palominos. They rode as ordered through the night following main roads mostly. They would stop and rest the horses at every other town they passed. Melanie had never been much of an equestrian, so the rests were accommodating for the lot. From sunrise the next morning to sunset they kept a steady pace eastward toward their destination.
They had finally reached Selgaunt three hours after sundown. The two were tired as they stabled the horses, but marched on toward the coast line. They reached a small dock where a man stood at the piers gate smoking a long, thin pipe and talking obviously to himself. The females approached him, and stood broodingly at the sailor-type gent.
“Are you who we are searching for?” Melanie stated the oddly put inquiry.
“Aye, you're Darius' girls?” The portly old man replied. He puffed his pipe, sending an orange hue to show a glimpse of greed in the mans eyes.
They said nothing, just walked past the man to the small, creaking old sail boat that sat awaiting at the end of the pier. They settled on the bench, facing where the sailboat captain would sit and steer the rudder. They set sail immediately, following the coast line north, then east. They must have sailed for a week, stopping at small port towns to bathe and eat. Alayna was the one most concerned of personal hygiene. Melanie just has a pit for a stomach. They reached the mouth of Eastings Reach making their way north deeper into the continental realm of The Great Dale. The clouds blackened and the wind picked up force. The small vessel started rocking and rolling over the now fifteen feet waves. They struggled to ease the sail for the sake of not tearing a hole through their only means of sailing. The harsh weather thrust the boat toward the shore, crashing into the reef sending the three passengers overboard. Alayna and Melanie swam with their gear to safety, the old man wasn't as strong a swimmer. The two women stare at the wreckage, and turn north to search for a town.They find a road and follow it east until they reach the town of Bezentil. There they stayed the night, bathed, ate well and repair their gear (as the rugged wilds of Faerun are hardly hospitable). On the next morning, they decide to go searching for wild berries in hopes of making a jam for the evening. A small plain lays stale on the south-eastern edge of the Rawlinswood. They approach the treeline after spotting a few potential candidates to attest their berry aimed quest.
The bushes shake.
Melanie draws her greatsword, and Alayna an arrow. A screeching howl erupts from the bushes, and a dozen goblins wielding clubs and slings appear from the canvas of leaves. Out numbered, and still struggling from a length of sea faring attempts, the two women call it a lost cause and bolt back toward the town. Large stones and crude spears are flung at the retreating pair, causing their direct path of retreat to become a dangerous target for precipitating death agents. Melanie splits right, Alayna left.
“Meet back at the Inn, no later than sundown!” Melanie calls back as Alayna disappears from sight. The barrage of propellents start footing closer and closer as Melanie attempts a burst of speed and heads directly into the Rawlinswood. She loses her aggressors in the treeline, catching her breath and collecting her thoughts as she remembers her life of training for such an instance. Training dummies don't throw spears or bullets. The trees surrounding still echo a cringe inducing battle cry, forcing Melanie to hold her position inside a hollow tree. At nightfall, she worries only for the safety of Alayna. She collects her gear and heads out of the hollow. Unknowingly to her, she heads north in search of her southern retreat. She moves quietly, a few dozen darts tied in bundles at her reach, just in case. By morning she reaches the northern breach of the forest. She knows she's lost. Growing up in a hidden mountain valley, directional education is hardly a priority. She continues away from the treeline, ever so searching for a sign of Alayna's presence.She finds a seldom traveled road, which happens to have a lone caravan driver making his way between trading stops. Melanie may be a woman, but helpless she is not. The giant sword at her back would contest any other opinion. The trader offers her a ride to the nearest town. Melanie accepts, tossing her gear in the back and sitting next to the driver. The two travel for half a day west, finally arriving at a small post on the border of Narfell. Melanie thanks the man, and heads north in search of her long lost friend, finding nothing but the gates of a small town on the Icelace River.
She searches for her friend, her companion, her sister in arms. Will she ever find her? Or will the Nars have more in store for this young battle maiden of the Red Knight?
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DominoAffect
Melanie Blackwood
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