3. Phoenix Talon: Rebirth from Ash

Phoenix Talon: Rebirth from Ash


  • "Egh, such fine text… can you read it, Sabrie?
    "Yes, barely..."

    Year 22

    _Two women stood on a road at the edge of a great grassy field. Behind them was an idle cart, its lone pulling-horse hanging its head out of exhaustion, full of something covered by a tarp. Before them was a large, broad sign, with one long paragraph written on it in miniature text. Behind the sign was a stone wall, and from within that wall the road extended, turned sharply, and ran along the length of the wall, right under the women's feet.
    One woman, the one named Sabrie, radiated youth and joy. Her hair was long and dark - almost black, but not quite, and while she was a pretty thing, she was so without being classically curvy and bodacious and tall. She had a dagger on her belt and wore a simple brown tunic and britches, appearing almost boyish. The bags that she normally slung over her shoulders rested on the ground beside her.
    The other woman, whose ears were, unlike her companion's, ever so slightly pointed, looked to be the same age, and besides her ears she might have been mistaken for her companion if not for her stark white and only collar-length hair. She wore a fancy white dress and had nothing but her companion at her side.

    Sabrie spoke the sign's words aloud to her companion. The sign read:_
    @f51e53037b:

    Evil will not be tolerated here. It will be vanquished on sight, and no prisoners will be taken. This land will be pure and Good and any who seek to taint it with their presence will be removed by our righteous might. Our holy mandate shall be upheld and the justice in our zeal derives from the Gods themselves. The Evil vanquished will be burned and their ashes scattered so that they may never return to continue their malign work.

    -County of Arenes, Silver Marches

    As she read the sign's contents, a man with a dashing, thick moustache, wearing extremely ornate, almost gaudy, but very impressive and gorgeous full plate approached the two with a crossbow in his hands and a claymore on his back. He looked at the two ladies and appeared quite charming.

    __

    "Yer a woman now, Sabrie. I'll expect ye t'start up yer own business, or do more work 'round here, or thinkin' about marriage."

    Year 12
    _A greying, balding man stood behind a bar, polishing a mug. He spoke with a ragged piece of wood in his grinning mouth to a pretty young girl with long, dark brown hair. The two were dressed rather shabbily, the man in frayed pants and an open-chested vest, the girl in a simple brown and blue dress. Around them in what appeared to be a quiet tavern were men sitting here and there, some with bawdry women, but most alone. One man sitting on the side of the bar opposite to the older man and the girl proclaimed drunkenly, "Well, I'll marry yer! HAR HAR HAR! Haaar!"
    He erupted into a fit of drunken laughter, and as if accidentally the men and women around him followed suit. Sabrie shot a glare at both men and addressed the balding one.
    "Father, we have too little money to start another business, and I'm already doing as much around here as I possibly can."
    The drunkard interjected, "Well then I guess y'better start lookin' around, if y'know what I'm sayin!' HAAAAR HAR HAR HAR!"

    The crowd followed in his laughter again. The father only maintained his grin. Then he beckoned the girl closer and spoke to her quietly.
    "I'm only half-kiddin,' dear. But we'll get ye some starter coin. Waukeen provides."
    The crowd had grown quieter and each returned to their own business, and some seemed to realize a bit that some offense was taken by the girl. The tavern was rather run-down. There were no men with fine hats nor flashy swords nor armour to speak of. The most expensive thing in the whole building was probably the whores. If Waukeen provided, then she did not provide to this particular establishment very much.
    Sabrie nodded sullenly and her Father continued, "I'll be checkin' in with th'church tomorrow. See if they can provide. Happy birthday."
    Sabrie nodded again and fled slowly upstairs.

    The next day, around noon, Sabrie was minding the bar on her own when her father came in without his signature grin. Yet he carried a rather hefty bag. Between the face and the bag, Sabrie knew which to believe.

    The face.

    "Sorry, baby doll. We're only Coppers."

    __

    "Arrows, bows, bludgeons - useul knicknacks and doddles - tools of trade and what have you! If you want cheap, I've got the market cornered!"_

    Year 16 _A young woman peddled her cheap wares in the streets of Athkatla. Her hair was long and a dark brown approaching black. It was Sabrie. Her stall was modest - some piles of the same thing, some neatly arranged tables of various items. All cheap in both quality and price, as she freely announced and admitted to passers by.

    She did this every day. Every so often, she would break her routine, skipping to the same Amnish guard who oversaw that part of the street and handed him two copper pieces. They would both smile. No one would steal from that paltry stall. Then she would grab an empty bag from her stall and scamper off to the great Promenade proper.
    There, she would observe the shops and stalls, listen to announcements and then buy various items where they could be found the cheapest and took those same items to be sold in the same Promenade where they would yield the highest profit. Then with a portion of that profit she would buy her wares and bring them back to her stall and man it until the end of the day.

    Customers occasionally made small talk with her. They would ask her how her business began and how she made her living. Though for what reason did they take such novel interest? It was unclear to Sabrie at the time.
    She told them that she had been the daughter of a tavernkeep and when she came of age, her father went to the Waukeenars and asked for starter coin to set up a business. Sabrie reported that their response was less than ideal, and her father's bounty that day was a bag of copper coins. Yet she used this coin and more that she and her father resolved to set aside from their tavern's profits to begin her little business. With what little wealth she had available, she told them, she bought low and sold high - but she did not explain exactly how, as it was a "trade secret."

    One day, two customers approached Sabrie's stall. One was an Elven man with a stern, aged, severe face and eyes that seemed to look down his nose at all times. He was regal, dressed in such a way that his body looked almost triangular, each shoulder adorned with cloth pauldrons, and his hair was short, flat-topped, and white. His companion was a girl who looked to be the same age as Sabrie.
    Sabrie's eyes widened. Never had she before seen such a creature. White hair as long as her own, with slightly pointed ears, dressed in a gown as white as her hair. Sabrie felt she must make some preemptive reply, so she said to the two, "Customers! I saw you go by earlier… has something here caught your eye?"
    The white-haired girl remained passive as the male said, "Yes. It seems you have seen less of us than we you. We have been watching you, girl, for some time now."
    Sabrie was without words nor even proper expression, so the man asked, "What is your name?"
    "Sabrie... Blackwater."
    Then he continued, "My daughter is interested in entering the merchant trade. But not here. As a traveling merchant. She has insisted that I arrange for you to join her. What do you say?"

    At this Sabrie gave great pause. The notion of entering business with complete strangers was a frightening one. So she asked, "Why?"
    This time the other girl spoke, "I've been watching you… you're clever. You're really clever. I don't know how long you've been at this altogether, but you've been improving your wealth slowly and steadily, with this horribly ingenious method... I find that attractive in a partner."

    Sabrie considered a while. But before she asked for terms, stipends, and other arrangements, she had a rather important question for the girl.

    "What's your name?"

    __

    "Ash."
    "Yes?"_
    Year 18 _Sabrie looked worriedly to the owner of the name Ash - a white-haired half-elf woman. They rode a cart drawn by one horse, with Sabrie lounging atop the tarp-covered goods in the cart while Ash drove. They followed a road northward. Sabrie continued, "Should we have done that?"
    "Done what?"
    "Spread that rumour about Belkins."
    "It worked, didn't it! He was our competitor. And it was… sort of true that he slept with the mayor's wife. In a sense."
    Sabrie went quiet for a while, looking up into the sky with furrowed brow. After a little while, Ash looked over her shoulder with a concerned pout and asked, "What's wrong? Is it the Helmites telling us to get the Hells out of their temple? What kind of Helmites refuse to protect two merchants who fear their competitors' assassins..."

    Sabrie looked at Ash a long while, and her expression gradually evolved from curiosity to absolute joy, awe, and worship. "I don't care anymore," she said gently to the white-haired one.
    Ash returned the look, her face experiencing the very same evolution, and they simply stared at each other a while before the cart began to jolt and shake, and with a yelp Ash turned around and steered the cart such that they narrowly avoided crashing off of the hilly road. "Ah haha!" yelped Ash as she corrected their path, "Who ever heard of Helmite paladins anyway! How do they even tolerate their own clergy!"
    "I don't know," responded Sabrie. "There's something not entirely right with that whole system."
    "What system?"
    "You know, paladins. How do they even breathe? I'd be afraid to breathe for fear of being struck down by my god if I were a paladin... and if I had a god."
    "Well, my dear, you've cast the coin right into the well on that. It's not just paladins. It's everyone like that. Something's just… wrong with them. Now go to sleep so you can take over driving later so that I can get some rest!"

    __

    "Hurry, hurry! Write our names down for the raffle!"_

    Year 19

    _Ash squinted, running as quickly as she could in her white gown - which was not very quick - through urban streets. Sabrie, however, dashed along them. The street began to be more and more densely populated, until Sabrie had to push her way through the crowds to reach her destination. Eventually she broke through to a clearing wherein there were stands and, upon one table, a very large book of names. She hastily took the nearby quill and wrote hers and Ash's names in it. Then, relieved and calm, she reentered the great crowd which was huddled around the stands.
    A man on the stands announced flamboyantly, "The Waterdeep South Ward raffle will begin soooon!"
    Sabrie, still recovering from her exhausting sprint, made her way through the crowd, half in search of Ash and half simply trying to walk off her previous exertion. Suddenly, she saw the feet of her companion and looked up to see Ash bearing a strangely mortified expression, as if the half-elf had only a vague idea of what she was about to do and found it troubling.

    "Ash?"
    Ash suddenly put her hands on each of Sabrie's shoulders, her arms fully outstretched, and paused a moment.

    "Ash?" Sabrie repeated. But then, abruptly, Ash surged forward and kissed Sabrie on the lips - or perhaps she had aimed to headbutt her - and just as abruptly pulled back and continued her mortified expression. But she left no time for Sabrie to respond to that in any way, and said curtly, as if in fear of reproach, "I love you."
    There was a long, awkward silence, interrupted by the announcer's shouts for last calls to sign the raffle roster. This prompted Sabrie:
    "…For getting our names in in time?"
    Ash paused again for an uncomfortably long time and simply said, "...Yes," and two uncertainly bore through the crowd to find a better perspective for the raffle. The raffle passed without the two winning anything, and so they dejectedly dragged themselves to the nearest drinking hall. In it they sat, finding themselves a corner table, and a waitress as if by routine brought them a pitcher of ale and two mugs. The two began a rueful celebration.
    "Ah, if only!" cried Ash half-jokingly. Her partner only smiled and drank. But then she noticed a man not far from them sitting with his back to the wall, glaring furiously at Ash with his nostrils flaring and his cheeks puffing and deflating and puffing with what could only have been absolute, raw rage.
    "Hey," eked Sabrie.
    "I know! I know! We should've just written a whole bunch of names and taken credit for all of them..."
    "No! That man... he's looking at you strangely."

    Ash turned to look at the man, who in response jumped up from his seat, pressing his hand into the table but not moving beyond that, looking at the woman with a moustache so quivering with fury and a face so contorted with consternation and a shackled murderous intent that the scene bordered on absurdity. Several patrons turned to look at the man. He was dressed in fine plate with a steel tabard emblazoned with a white rose over it, his other hand inching towards the sword at his waist.
    Then, an apparently wise patron - a Dwarf - began guffawing, and the then silent patrons shifted their attention to him. After his fit of laughter had ceased, the Dwarf pointed at the man and exclaimed amusedly, "Methinks we've a newcomer t'our fair and diverse city! A Tormite if I reckon his colors right! Waaaahahaha! Can barely control himself! Waaaahahahahaha!"
    After a moment spent processing this statement, the rest of the hall erupted in unceasing laughter, except a few souls, the apparent Tormite, and the two women. Ash stared at Sabrie in terror of either her companion's reaction or the implications of the scene. Sabrie looked into Ash's eyes for a moment, but her gaze shifted to the man and her face too contorted itself into wrath. He met her gaze, and he softened almost into regret, and standing straight, turned to leave the hall without a word. Sabrie followed him with her eyes, leering with uncharacteristic malice.
    But this leer was stopped by Ash's hand on hers, and she looked to her white companion, whose face had become a gentle, smiling one.

    Words were unnecessary. Sabrie did not care.

    __

    "What is that over there, love?"
    "A man coming toward us, Ash."_
    Year 22 _Ash squinted vainly at the plated, crossbow-bearing man.
    "I can't quite make him out," said she, though he has hardly a great distance away. Sabrie described him in detail, and Ash turned and gave her a worried look. But by then the man had stopped, peering at the two for almost a minute, and then began towards them again. But they looked at each other to plan their move.
    "What should we do?" asked Sabrie of Ash.
    "I'm not sure, but –" began her companion, but she was interrupted.

    A bolt had struck her side.

    "Heartless fiend!" howled the plated man. Ash fell to her knees, gripping her side, as Sabrie looked in astonishment at the man, who had then tossed his crossbow away and drawn his claymore.
    "Go!" uttered Ash, but Sabrie voiced refusal. The man charged the two, aiming for his white quarry, but in a flash, Sabrie produced her dagger and thrust its point reverse-handed at his neck. He had disregarded her completely, and ran into the dagger as one might a clothesline. But as he gurgled his dying surprise, Sabrie felt judgment weigh down on her with an immeasurable burden.
    The man dropped his sword and fell to the ground, clutching his throat and the dagger, writhing in a final struggle against mortality. Sabrie forgot about him, then, and knelt hurriedly by Ash. She laid her down and, with a short, "Be ready!" gripped the bolt and pulled it out.
    Ash shrieked, and Sabrie looked at the bolt - it was wickedly barbed, such that conventional removal would do great harm. And great harm it had done.

    "That's it," Ash again uttered.
    "What do you mean? I can bandage you... we can escape."

    Cries could be heard from within the walls, and the signature clanking of approaching soldiers grew louder and louder.

    "No... that's it. I can't feel my legs."
    "I'll carry you."
    "You'll be too slow. They'll catch you."

    The last gurgling breath escaped the man. He laid on the ground dead, his expression flabbergasted, his moustache wet with his blood as Ash's white gown was red with hers. She gave Sabrie a genuine smile, through it was tempered by a jaw clenched in pain. She said to Sabrie, "I'm really glad."
    "What?" came Sabrie's disbelieving reply. "Why?"
    "We made... a good bit of gold."
    The human girl could not respond, so Ash took her hand feebly and continued, "Listen... I have so many things I want to say right now, but... not enough time or breath," and indeed her breath was laboured, "so I've just got one request. Kill them."
    "Kill who?"
    "Their kind. The kind… that is blind and hypocritical and... so sickeningly self-righteous. 'Righteous might?' I've never heard... something so oxymoronic."
    "Kill... how would that make us any better than them?"
    "It doesn't. We aren't. But they're no better than us... whatever might anyone uses... it's never righteous. Doesn't stop... people from using it, though."
    Ash's words were thoroughly punctuated by subdued gasps. She went on, "Kill them. Make them suffer. Them, holy zealots. Not just… their paladins... but their... clerics too... and their soldiers... and all who... so gladly kill others in the name... of their Gods, while maintaining themselves... righteous." Sabrie remained silent. She only held Ash there. The white, or red girl's last words were:

    "Use your judgment. I trust it… I trust you. I love you."

    The strength of her grip on Sabrie's hand faded. Sabrie stood. She walked solemnly over to the man's corpse and looked at his twisted face. The face of a killer, or a protector, or what? She picked up his claymore, finding it rather heavy, but not unwieldy. The clanking grew louder, and a number of armoured men bearing crossbows, swords, and arms emerged from the walls, charging towards the scene. The better armed woman ran to the cart and cut the horse loose from it, then jumped up onto it and bid it go, but it refused and wearily tried to buck her. So she dismounted and took off at full sprint eastward.

    She would become Phoenix Talon. Reborn from ash._

    Character: Phoenix Talon

    Account: Syiedthebard

  • ICC

    Reviewed, XP Pending!