A lesson in Vigilance
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Alannia regarded herself in the smooth surface of the lake she had made camp beside the night before. She was sure that her own father would have trouble recognising her now. Her once long golden hair (always pulled back tight so as to not impede her vision) was now grey, listless and cut short. Her eye missing now, the lids cuts away to show the only the remaining white below her usually worn eyepatch.
Looking into the water, with no patch to hide the eye, she thought for a moment on the events leading to its loss. She had tracked him for 10 years. The Banite dog had left a trail of destruction, death and sorrow in his wake. Even so the fear he planted in the hearts of the people he had scarred kept their tongues still. The trail would sometimes go cold for months before another rumour or chanced comment would renew her hope of finding the beast.
It was in one of these lulls that she came to the town of Caradoon. Taking welcomed lodgings in the local, in she said her prayers and turned her thoughts to the meal left by her bedside. She had developed a taste for simple food over her years away from Athkatla, far away from her father's lavish table. She had asked the Inn Keep for stew and some dry bread, but it appeared that he cook was keen to impress and instead the stew was heavily spiced. While the taste was pleasant enough it was a shock to her palate. It invoked the spice markets of the City of Coin, a place she had especially liked as a child. The sights, sounds and especially the smells of the market returned to her in a pristine rush with each spoonful.
She set the spoon down a moment and regarded the dish. She was quite sure that this meal cost more than what she had paid for. Still, the intising aroma drew her back to it. Lifting the spoon again she began to eat, savouring each mouthful.
Perhaps a small indulgence after a long day….
The blow woke her. Her head swimming, vision blurred she tried to rise, to find her sword, to defend herself. She couldn't move, ropes binding her fast. Where was she? Who was attaking her?
Her vision clearing now, slower than she would have liked, provided her with the answer. A cavern, dank, cold, badly lit. Another blow shook her. Spitting the blood from her mouth, she shook her head. Her attacker loomed into view, face stripped bare of flesh the boney hand pummeled her once more. A skeleton, larger than most, a fallen warrior raised to serve a necromancer. The blow of realisation struck harder than any the skeleton could deal out.
A laugh od delight brike her thoughts..
'Is it awake?' asked a voice from behind her. Tied to the table as she was, couldn't turn to see the face but she did not need to. It was clear to her now.
'Torascal', she said. The skeleton smashed its fist into her stomach at the utterence.
'The same! Well met, Lady Diams.'
Torascal loomed into view. The beast, the defiler of temples, the widow maker. Torascal the torturer, the necromancer. The child killer.
'My, my! You do seem in a predicament, don't you?'
Alannia said nothing. Torascal sat casually on the side of the table, her symbol of Helm swinging between two fingers.
'Tut, tut.' he said 'Doesn't your 'god' preach readiness? It seems you have strayed from that doctine, Helimte whore.'
He rose tracing her body with her symbol idily.
'Perhaps a lesson in vigilance is in order, mi'lady.'
Taking a small knife form his belt he set to work on her eye, removing the lids first before moving to her pupil. Her screams finally brought a merciful repite in unconciousness.
All too soon the room swirled back into view. The Pain! It coursed through her almost overwhelming her before she could push it back. Push it away. Her being called out for the comfort of unconciousness but she must not. She must take the pain, stay in the moment.
Torascal, smiled down at her, seemingly pleased with his handy work.
'Now, thats much better. I'm sure you'll agree. Like your pathetic master your eye is always open!' He began to trace the Holy Symbol over her body again, running it up her thighs and stomach, laughing at his own joke.
'This is your last chance to surrender, Torascal'.
The skelelton slammed its fist down on her arm, breaking it below the elbow with a sickening crunch. She lurched with the shock.
Torascal laughed uproariously.
'I don't believe I'll be surrendering today, whore bitch.' His face darkened, 'you've caused me a lot of trouble, Helmite and Intend to make you pay.'. He moved the symbol along her arm to the break, setting it on her arm. He put his full weight on it. Alannia screamed.
Lifting the weight after what seemed an eternity, he sat back a regarded her a moment, tapping the symbol on his chin.
'You have blood in your eye. Let me clean that for you.'
Slidding his body over hers, brough his face an inch above her. Opening his mouth slightly he let a thick, viscuos line of saliva hang from his lips above the now blind and bloodied eye. As he did so the symbol in his hand moved over the break in her arm to the ropes binding her. The skeleton loomed over them both grinning.
She turned her head as the first drops reached her face. Torascal was concentrating on getting the spittle onto the eyeball. So much so that he readjusted his position over her, sliding the symbol further towards her wrist.
Now was the moment! Jerking her shoulder, ignoring the pain of her arm, she grasped the Symbol. She cried out
'Behold the Eye of Helm!!'
The skeleton exploded, fine dust filled the air that it had once occupied. Torascali turned his head to see what had happened, his face still an inch from Alannia's. The realisation came to him a moment to late. As his expression turned from shock to rage, Alannia threw herself up as hard as she could from the table and sank her teeth into the exposed side of his neck. Wrenching her head back, she ripped the flesh clean from his neck.
Torascal, eyes wide in disbelief, sank to the floor, gurggling his final curses.
Alannia spat out the villian's flesh and sank into oblivion the pain finally overcoming her.
It took three days for her to free herself and through prayer, heal enough to make her way from the chamber into the light. When she eventually came to a Temple of Helm she went to the altar to give praise and thanks before she would allow the priests the tend her. She would not allow the eye to be restored.
'It is a lesson in vigilance', she said.
Rising from the side of the lake she took the eye patch from her pack and tied it to cover her eye. picking up her well attended pack she slung it over her shoulder and started out on the road to Neverwinter once more.
