Drusilia Naïlo: The Making of a Watchman
- Thread starter Drusilia Nailo
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Drusilia Nailo
First Post
Yay, I'm glad you like my storyhour, Horacio! 
Di'Fier, my services as an editor, such as they are, are always available.
Di'Fier, my services as an editor, such as they are, are always available.
Drusilia Nailo
First Post
Couples strolled up and down the flower-clad street in the twilight, or sat out in private gardens, whispering words of desire in one another's ears. All of them were blissfully unaware of the drama that was unfolding just down the street, and in various other parts of the city that day.
A young elven woman, with long, dark hair, and pale blue eyes looked fearfully around the corner of the two-story stone house. Her heart hammered in her throat, and she clutched her dagger tightly enough that her knuckles were turning white. Papa was trying to kill her, after all of these years of trying to train her properly. Her eyes started to fill with tears before she irritably wiped the moisture away. There was no way that she could hide in this city from Tensin Naïlo, so she wasn't even going to try.
It had all started out innocently enough. She had gone to class like she had every day for two years, to try to learn the wizardry that was supposed to be so easy for those of her race. She had yet to even master the simplest of spells. Magic just seemed to elude her. It had become harder and harder for her to show her face in class, mostly because of the taunts of the other two students. One of them in particular, Alust, loved to rub her nose in the fact that he was already able to cast first circle spells.
"Hah. You'll be lucky if your Papa wants anything to do with you when he finds out that you can't work magic," he had said, mockingly. "He'll probably think that you're a freak. I know that I-"
Drusilia felt a rush of red hot rage, nearly enough to make her dizzy. She watched with numb fascination, as if she was an observer only, as her small fist balled up, and traveled towards Alust in slow motion. It connected between his eyes in equally slow motion, and the look of stunned surprise that crossed his face was comical. Then time sped up again, and Alust fell to the floor with a loud crash. Tomes spilled everywhere, and beakers and jars could be heard shattering under the weight of pages and elf.
"Get out of my lab!" The wizard that Papa had hired to teach her screamed this at her, staring around at the breakage, his lips white with rage. "Get out, and never come back!"
Drusilia fled the lab, leaving the shattered glass, crumpled books, and battered elf behind for the teacher to deal with. She felt anger and fear mingled with one another. Papa, cast her out? Alust would probably be more than happy to fill the gap that her disappearance would bring. She cried at first, running through the streets of the Old City so fast that people stared at her as she streaked by. She didn't really see where she was going, for the tears were blurring her vision. She ran and ran and ran until she had absolutely no energy left, and her lungs burned in her chest.
When she finally stopped, she looked around in surprise. She was in the Harbor District, near the sea. There were some orcish workers staring at her with suspicion. She sighed, straightened her spine, and wiped the tears away with the back of her hand. She had turned to trudge back in the direction that she came when she heard muffled applause from an alleyway. She turned, and her eyes widened. Papa stood there. "That was very dramatic," he said sarcastically. "And now no doubt everyone in the city is wondering why I cannot even manage to control my immediate household." And then with more concern, he added, "What happened, Daughter?" He stepped out of the alley, holding out a hand to take her arm.
Drusilia scowled, her tears forgotten, and let him guide her back towards the Old City. "I don't want to go back to magic class again," she said, hating the petulant sound in her voice even as it came out.
Papa shrugged. "Then don't go back," he said calmly. "But don't cry about it."
The young woman sighed. "Rulah doesn't want me to come back anyway," she admitted with reluctance.
She knew that if he was going to get angry with her, it would be over this, rather than punching a fellow student in the face.
"Why not?"
She sighed again. "Because I..." she peeked sideways at him. "I punched Alust in the face."
This time it was Papa's turn to sigh. "Why did you punch Alust in the face? And why should this upset Rulah?"
Drusilia clenched her jaw, temporarily forgetting fear of reprisal in her anger at Alust. "He was making fun of me. Saying that I was stupid for not being able to work magic. He said that you'd probably put me out and disown me because I couldn't do it. And... me punching him made kind of a mess. Shattered beakers, stuff like that."
Papa winced at that last, but didn't say anything for a long while. "Did you believe what Alust said to you? About me putting you out because you can't work magic?"
By now, the pair was back in the Old City. Drusilia thought about that question for several moments with fear gnawing at her belly as she tried to think of a tactful way to say it, without hurting Papa's feelings or making him more mad at her. She was just opening her mouth to say something, when Papa put a hand up to silence her.
"It is clear by your silence that he did convince you," he said quietly. "Drusilia, come here." Papa pulled her into an alley, and put his arms around her.
She let herself be pulled into the embrace, and put her head on his chest. "I'm sorry-"
Then the world became pain. Papa's dagger slipped between her ribs, its sharp blade slicing past skin and muscle like it wasn't even there.
Drusilia blinked, trying to focus as the world began to swim around her. "Papa?" She swayed a little, trying to stand up straight.
"He was right," said Papa, staring at her coldly. "No daughter of mine can't work magic." And then he stood there, watching her, as if waiting to see what she would do.
Drusilia stared at him in horror, feeling the blood draining from her face. "I-"
And then he was coming at her again, with his bloodied dagger raised high in the air, poised to make another strike.
She couldn't think about it, she didn't have time to think about it. She did what seemed natural; she pulled her own dagger, and whipped it upward fend off the stronger man's blade. She managed to roll to the side at the last moment, and his dagger sliced harmlessly through the air beside her head. It was too close for comfort though. Scrambling to her feet, she ran as fast as she could, clutching her wounded side, and moved out of the alley, then down the street.
She didn't stop until she was at the Street of Flowers. Slipping around the back of an empty house, she peered back around the corner, watching and waiting. No, she couldn't hide, but it just didn't seem fair that she would have to die. What was going on? Why had he turned on her so completely? She shook her head then, to clear her thoughts. There was no sense in dwelling on her questions... Papa was trying to kill her, and that was really all that was important right now.
"Drusilia." It was her Papa's voice. It was coming from a place where it shouldn't be -- up above.
She looked up, heart nearly stopping in her chest, but she couldn't move quickly enough. A throwing dagger came whizzing down from Papa's perch behind the house's chimney, and sunk into her shoulder before she even had time to register anything. Already weakened from blood loss, Drusilia sunk to the grass. She knew that the end had come. Her vision was starting to flicker in and out, and she had to curl her fingers to grip the side of the house to keep from falling off the earth. All she could do, all her muddled mind could do, was ask the question, "Why? Why? Why?" Merciful blackness came then, taking away the pain and the confusion.
A young elven woman, with long, dark hair, and pale blue eyes looked fearfully around the corner of the two-story stone house. Her heart hammered in her throat, and she clutched her dagger tightly enough that her knuckles were turning white. Papa was trying to kill her, after all of these years of trying to train her properly. Her eyes started to fill with tears before she irritably wiped the moisture away. There was no way that she could hide in this city from Tensin Naïlo, so she wasn't even going to try.
It had all started out innocently enough. She had gone to class like she had every day for two years, to try to learn the wizardry that was supposed to be so easy for those of her race. She had yet to even master the simplest of spells. Magic just seemed to elude her. It had become harder and harder for her to show her face in class, mostly because of the taunts of the other two students. One of them in particular, Alust, loved to rub her nose in the fact that he was already able to cast first circle spells.
"Hah. You'll be lucky if your Papa wants anything to do with you when he finds out that you can't work magic," he had said, mockingly. "He'll probably think that you're a freak. I know that I-"
Drusilia felt a rush of red hot rage, nearly enough to make her dizzy. She watched with numb fascination, as if she was an observer only, as her small fist balled up, and traveled towards Alust in slow motion. It connected between his eyes in equally slow motion, and the look of stunned surprise that crossed his face was comical. Then time sped up again, and Alust fell to the floor with a loud crash. Tomes spilled everywhere, and beakers and jars could be heard shattering under the weight of pages and elf.
"Get out of my lab!" The wizard that Papa had hired to teach her screamed this at her, staring around at the breakage, his lips white with rage. "Get out, and never come back!"
Drusilia fled the lab, leaving the shattered glass, crumpled books, and battered elf behind for the teacher to deal with. She felt anger and fear mingled with one another. Papa, cast her out? Alust would probably be more than happy to fill the gap that her disappearance would bring. She cried at first, running through the streets of the Old City so fast that people stared at her as she streaked by. She didn't really see where she was going, for the tears were blurring her vision. She ran and ran and ran until she had absolutely no energy left, and her lungs burned in her chest.
When she finally stopped, she looked around in surprise. She was in the Harbor District, near the sea. There were some orcish workers staring at her with suspicion. She sighed, straightened her spine, and wiped the tears away with the back of her hand. She had turned to trudge back in the direction that she came when she heard muffled applause from an alleyway. She turned, and her eyes widened. Papa stood there. "That was very dramatic," he said sarcastically. "And now no doubt everyone in the city is wondering why I cannot even manage to control my immediate household." And then with more concern, he added, "What happened, Daughter?" He stepped out of the alley, holding out a hand to take her arm.
Drusilia scowled, her tears forgotten, and let him guide her back towards the Old City. "I don't want to go back to magic class again," she said, hating the petulant sound in her voice even as it came out.
Papa shrugged. "Then don't go back," he said calmly. "But don't cry about it."
The young woman sighed. "Rulah doesn't want me to come back anyway," she admitted with reluctance.
She knew that if he was going to get angry with her, it would be over this, rather than punching a fellow student in the face.
"Why not?"
She sighed again. "Because I..." she peeked sideways at him. "I punched Alust in the face."
This time it was Papa's turn to sigh. "Why did you punch Alust in the face? And why should this upset Rulah?"
Drusilia clenched her jaw, temporarily forgetting fear of reprisal in her anger at Alust. "He was making fun of me. Saying that I was stupid for not being able to work magic. He said that you'd probably put me out and disown me because I couldn't do it. And... me punching him made kind of a mess. Shattered beakers, stuff like that."
Papa winced at that last, but didn't say anything for a long while. "Did you believe what Alust said to you? About me putting you out because you can't work magic?"
By now, the pair was back in the Old City. Drusilia thought about that question for several moments with fear gnawing at her belly as she tried to think of a tactful way to say it, without hurting Papa's feelings or making him more mad at her. She was just opening her mouth to say something, when Papa put a hand up to silence her.
"It is clear by your silence that he did convince you," he said quietly. "Drusilia, come here." Papa pulled her into an alley, and put his arms around her.
She let herself be pulled into the embrace, and put her head on his chest. "I'm sorry-"
Then the world became pain. Papa's dagger slipped between her ribs, its sharp blade slicing past skin and muscle like it wasn't even there.
Drusilia blinked, trying to focus as the world began to swim around her. "Papa?" She swayed a little, trying to stand up straight.
"He was right," said Papa, staring at her coldly. "No daughter of mine can't work magic." And then he stood there, watching her, as if waiting to see what she would do.
Drusilia stared at him in horror, feeling the blood draining from her face. "I-"
And then he was coming at her again, with his bloodied dagger raised high in the air, poised to make another strike.
She couldn't think about it, she didn't have time to think about it. She did what seemed natural; she pulled her own dagger, and whipped it upward fend off the stronger man's blade. She managed to roll to the side at the last moment, and his dagger sliced harmlessly through the air beside her head. It was too close for comfort though. Scrambling to her feet, she ran as fast as she could, clutching her wounded side, and moved out of the alley, then down the street.
She didn't stop until she was at the Street of Flowers. Slipping around the back of an empty house, she peered back around the corner, watching and waiting. No, she couldn't hide, but it just didn't seem fair that she would have to die. What was going on? Why had he turned on her so completely? She shook her head then, to clear her thoughts. There was no sense in dwelling on her questions... Papa was trying to kill her, and that was really all that was important right now.
"Drusilia." It was her Papa's voice. It was coming from a place where it shouldn't be -- up above.
She looked up, heart nearly stopping in her chest, but she couldn't move quickly enough. A throwing dagger came whizzing down from Papa's perch behind the house's chimney, and sunk into her shoulder before she even had time to register anything. Already weakened from blood loss, Drusilia sunk to the grass. She knew that the end had come. Her vision was starting to flicker in and out, and she had to curl her fingers to grip the side of the house to keep from falling off the earth. All she could do, all her muddled mind could do, was ask the question, "Why? Why? Why?" Merciful blackness came then, taking away the pain and the confusion.
Drusilia Nailo
First Post
And here's the resolution to the cliffhanger, since I can't stand the suspense.
She felt sunlight warming her eyelids, and felt the familiar weight of a down coverlet, coupled with the warm body of a cat across her feet. Something was very wrong... she just couldn't place it. She wasn't supposed to be able to sleep. She wasn't supposed to be here. She was supposed to be... dead! Her eyes flew open, and she sat up straight in bed.
Her room. She was in her own room, in Papa's house, on the Street of Flowers. Hidden amongst the courtesans. Tompkin, the gray stray that she had taken in last year, grumbled at her, and jumped down off of the bed in an angry huff. He stalked off, tail held high in the air.
Why was she here? Papa had just tried to kill her... she had been convinced that he'd succeeded, but she certainly felt alive just this moment. She noticed that she was naked, and did a quick inventory of her body. It was completely devoid of injuries and bruises. Except for one. A jagged white scar remained on her ribs, where Papa's dagger had struck the first time. What was going on?
Throwing open her closet, Drusilia began to put on her clothes. A pair of trousers, a lace up shirt. Her boots. And of course, her dagger. Little good it did me yesterday, though. Taking a deep breath, she stepped out into the hallway. Everything was silent.
She crept towards Papa's study, and froze. He was sitting there, at his desk. A scroll lay in front of him, and he was writing on it with a quill pen. After making a few more marks, he looked up. When he saw the pale, pinched face of his daughter, he sighed, and put the pen down. "You're awake, good. Come in here, we need to talk."
Drusilia stared at him incredulously, and said with no small amount of anger, "If you think that I'm completely stupid, I'll tell you-"
"Drusilia!" His tone was one that demanded nothing less than complete and total obedience.
She jerked, and felt herself obeying him, even though she could think of a million reasons not to. Eighty-two years of obedience does not wear off easily. She sat down in a silk covered chair directly in front of Papa's desk. Looking at him warily, she waited for him to speak.
He studied her for a moment, and then sighed. "I do not understand what power the young Alust has over you that he could make you believe such slander about me."
Drusilia blinked, rapidly, confusedly. "But- you-"
Papa held his hand up again. "Let me finish. I promise that it will all be explained to you if you have patience."
She swallowed nervously, and then nodded, still sitting rigidly in her chair.
"I do not want to be rid of you because you cannot work magic. Indeed, I do not want to be rid of you for any reason." He glanced at her, as if inviting a response.
"But you stabbed me..."
Papa smiled. "I didn't kill you. I could have, as you well know."
Drusilia scowled, then, starting to get angry again. There was something that she wasn't grasping here, and she didn't appreciate being toyed with. "Why did you stab me, then? That hurt!"
The man across the desk continued to study her, and then stood to his feet. "Drusilia," he said, his tone gentler than it had been in a long time. "You have been sheltered for your entire life. That's my fault -- I did not want to subject you to the violence of it until you were old enough to handle it. What would have happened if the first time you'd been stabbed was in a real fight, with an opponent who really wanted you dead? Would you have been so blinded by the pain, and by surprise, and fear, that you'd have let him kill you?"
She stared at this man, who she was beginning to suspect that she didn't really know. "You weren't serious about wanting to stab me?"
Papa snorted quietly, and then nodded. "Consider it a lesson. Letting pain blind you will lead to death. Letting surpries immobilize you will lead to death. And letting fear master you will lead to death. Can you think of one other reason that I might have cause to be upset with you?"
Drusilia felt very, very small. "Because I doubted you."
Papa walked across the room towards her. "Yes, in part. When you get older, I'm going to want for you to be part of the Organization. When that time comes, you are not to be so afraid of my reaction to something that you have done that you run rather than face me. You need to trust me, so know that if I wanted you dead, you would be."
She nodded, understanding, and gave him a small smile.
Apparently satisfied with her reaction, he changed the topic abruptly. "Daughter, let me ask you something. Have you ever seen me work magic? Ever?"
It was one of those things that she had lived with her entire life. She had just assumed that Papa worked magic... he was an elf, after all, and a powerful one. Everyone assumed that he had magic. Kennic had threatened her, as a child, when she'd misbehaved, "You'd better be good. You never know when your papa is going to be scrying on you." People spoke in hushed whispers about Tensin Naïlo's abilities to warp the mind and manipulate the thoughts of others. But she had never seen him do any of it. Ever. She stared at him.
Papa stood there, waiting for a response.
Drusilia shook her head, mentally kicking herself for not noticing it before. "No... I guess that I haven't."
He nodded, not offering any more explanation. "So why then would I put out my own daughter for not being able to work magic?"
Drusilia felt a tremendous sense of relief, and she let her shoulders sag. Alust, the scrawny little shrimp, had been more wrong than he could possibly know. A smile formed on her face for the first time in days. "No reason," she said, "No reason at all."
She felt sunlight warming her eyelids, and felt the familiar weight of a down coverlet, coupled with the warm body of a cat across her feet. Something was very wrong... she just couldn't place it. She wasn't supposed to be able to sleep. She wasn't supposed to be here. She was supposed to be... dead! Her eyes flew open, and she sat up straight in bed.
Her room. She was in her own room, in Papa's house, on the Street of Flowers. Hidden amongst the courtesans. Tompkin, the gray stray that she had taken in last year, grumbled at her, and jumped down off of the bed in an angry huff. He stalked off, tail held high in the air.
Why was she here? Papa had just tried to kill her... she had been convinced that he'd succeeded, but she certainly felt alive just this moment. She noticed that she was naked, and did a quick inventory of her body. It was completely devoid of injuries and bruises. Except for one. A jagged white scar remained on her ribs, where Papa's dagger had struck the first time. What was going on?
Throwing open her closet, Drusilia began to put on her clothes. A pair of trousers, a lace up shirt. Her boots. And of course, her dagger. Little good it did me yesterday, though. Taking a deep breath, she stepped out into the hallway. Everything was silent.
She crept towards Papa's study, and froze. He was sitting there, at his desk. A scroll lay in front of him, and he was writing on it with a quill pen. After making a few more marks, he looked up. When he saw the pale, pinched face of his daughter, he sighed, and put the pen down. "You're awake, good. Come in here, we need to talk."
Drusilia stared at him incredulously, and said with no small amount of anger, "If you think that I'm completely stupid, I'll tell you-"
"Drusilia!" His tone was one that demanded nothing less than complete and total obedience.
She jerked, and felt herself obeying him, even though she could think of a million reasons not to. Eighty-two years of obedience does not wear off easily. She sat down in a silk covered chair directly in front of Papa's desk. Looking at him warily, she waited for him to speak.
He studied her for a moment, and then sighed. "I do not understand what power the young Alust has over you that he could make you believe such slander about me."
Drusilia blinked, rapidly, confusedly. "But- you-"
Papa held his hand up again. "Let me finish. I promise that it will all be explained to you if you have patience."
She swallowed nervously, and then nodded, still sitting rigidly in her chair.
"I do not want to be rid of you because you cannot work magic. Indeed, I do not want to be rid of you for any reason." He glanced at her, as if inviting a response.
"But you stabbed me..."
Papa smiled. "I didn't kill you. I could have, as you well know."
Drusilia scowled, then, starting to get angry again. There was something that she wasn't grasping here, and she didn't appreciate being toyed with. "Why did you stab me, then? That hurt!"
The man across the desk continued to study her, and then stood to his feet. "Drusilia," he said, his tone gentler than it had been in a long time. "You have been sheltered for your entire life. That's my fault -- I did not want to subject you to the violence of it until you were old enough to handle it. What would have happened if the first time you'd been stabbed was in a real fight, with an opponent who really wanted you dead? Would you have been so blinded by the pain, and by surprise, and fear, that you'd have let him kill you?"
She stared at this man, who she was beginning to suspect that she didn't really know. "You weren't serious about wanting to stab me?"
Papa snorted quietly, and then nodded. "Consider it a lesson. Letting pain blind you will lead to death. Letting surpries immobilize you will lead to death. And letting fear master you will lead to death. Can you think of one other reason that I might have cause to be upset with you?"
Drusilia felt very, very small. "Because I doubted you."
Papa walked across the room towards her. "Yes, in part. When you get older, I'm going to want for you to be part of the Organization. When that time comes, you are not to be so afraid of my reaction to something that you have done that you run rather than face me. You need to trust me, so know that if I wanted you dead, you would be."
She nodded, understanding, and gave him a small smile.
Apparently satisfied with her reaction, he changed the topic abruptly. "Daughter, let me ask you something. Have you ever seen me work magic? Ever?"
It was one of those things that she had lived with her entire life. She had just assumed that Papa worked magic... he was an elf, after all, and a powerful one. Everyone assumed that he had magic. Kennic had threatened her, as a child, when she'd misbehaved, "You'd better be good. You never know when your papa is going to be scrying on you." People spoke in hushed whispers about Tensin Naïlo's abilities to warp the mind and manipulate the thoughts of others. But she had never seen him do any of it. Ever. She stared at him.
Papa stood there, waiting for a response.
Drusilia shook her head, mentally kicking herself for not noticing it before. "No... I guess that I haven't."
He nodded, not offering any more explanation. "So why then would I put out my own daughter for not being able to work magic?"
Drusilia felt a tremendous sense of relief, and she let her shoulders sag. Alust, the scrawny little shrimp, had been more wrong than he could possibly know. A smile formed on her face for the first time in days. "No reason," she said, "No reason at all."
dpdx
Explorer
I feel like I may have to stop reading this Story Hour - it rips me up inside - but I can't, figuratively, "put it down."
Seriously, though, the twists and turns in this story hour rival anything I've ever read in fantasy. War of Souls, the House Stark trilogy (whose name escapes me ATM, it's been a long time), even Tolkien.
It's that good. I hope you keep going.
Seriously, though, the twists and turns in this story hour rival anything I've ever read in fantasy. War of Souls, the House Stark trilogy (whose name escapes me ATM, it's been a long time), even Tolkien.
It's that good. I hope you keep going.
Drusilia Nailo
First Post
Whew. And here I was worried that people weren't going to like the Dru stories!
Drusilia Nailo
First Post
First Kill
Kilat and Dru strolled arm in arm down the street. Swagfest was here again, and it was one of the few times that Kilat's parents would let him out of the house, with no questions asked. The two elves were heading towards The Docks, where most of the party would be.
"So," teased Dru playfully, elbowing Kilat. "Are you going to meet up with any pretty girls tonight?"
Kilat blushed, but elbowed her back. "I doubt they'll even look at me."
Dru snorted, looking around. The closer that they got to the docks, the more crowded it got. The smell of sour ale filled the air, and many of the people on the street were drunk, and had been so for awhile. Papa had only allowed her to come after she promised that she would wear her knives. She patted them to reassure herself.
Kilat was looking at her with no small amount of amusement. "No one's going to attack us," he said.
Dru returned his smile. Kilat led a very sheltered life, and didn't know the things that she knew. "Well, if they do I'll have a nasty surprise for them," she said.
The smell of the ocean got stronger, and the two finally arrived at the Docks. Dru spotted Ivellimor, one of her father's wizards. "I see someone that I want to talk to," she murmured to Kilat.
Kilat's gaze moved over to Ivellimor, who was standing outside of one of the ale booths, waiting for a drink. He frowned a little, but nodded. "Alright. Be careful, Dru." He leaned over and kissed her on the mouth.
The two parted company, Kilat more reluctantly than Dru. She walked up to Ivellimor, and smiled at him. "Hi."
Ivellimor looked over his shoulder, and then smiled. "Drusilia. Hello." He turned so that he could look at her directly. "I was, as you can probably tell, waiting in line for a drink. Shall I buy you one as well?"
Dru grinned, enjoying the way that his blonde hair fell against his shoulders. "Yes, I'd like that."
He nodded, stepping up. "Two ales," he told the harried looking human vendor.
As the pair walked away, each holding a tankard, Ivellimor put an arm protectively over her shoulder, steering her away from a gang of leering orcs. "I'm surprised that your father let you out unattended," he said, peering around at the throngs of people.
Dru chuckled. "Oh, I have no doubts that there's someone, somewhere, who's keeping an eye on me." She smiled at Ivellimor, a rueful expression on her face. "I suppose that I should be grateful."
Ivellimor glanced at her. "He'll let you take care of yourself someday," he said. "Come... there"s got to be someplace more private that we can sit and talk."
"And don't forget drink," said Dru.
"And drink," he amended, with a grin.
The pair never found a place with complete privacy, but they did find a sidestreet that didn't have as much foot traffic on it. Ivellimor, ever the gentleman, helped her sit on a crate, before crouching next to her.
His eyes flickered over her form just long enough to let her know that he was admiring her, but not long enough to be rude. "So. Kennic has insinuated that you are getting quite skilled with daggers," he says, gesturing at the sheathed blades on either of her hips.
Dru nodded, taking a sip of ale. "Papa's been teaching me," she said.
Ivellimor shook his head. "You're being taught by the best, then. I've never seen someone handle a knife quite like Tensin Naïlo."
"Yeah," muttered Dru with a sigh. "Including his daughter."
Ivellimor laughed. "I don't think that it's a bit insulting to you and your prowess to say that you're not as good as your father." He put his hand on her knee gently. "I'm not as skilled with a blade," he said, "But if you ever want a sparring partner, you need only ask."
Dru peered at him suspiciously. "You're a wizard, Ivellimor."
He grinned at her, innocently. "Yes? And what of it?"
She batted at him. "I don't want any magical energy being chucked at me."
He chuckled, and said wryly, "Don't worry. No one in their right mind would ever shoot a Magic Missile into you, because you're"
"Tensin Naïlo's daughter," Dru finished for him.
He looked chagrined. "That must get old."
Dru shrugged. "Sometimes. Although most of the time I'm very proud to be his daughter."
Ivellimor finished off the last of his ale, watching her all the while, and then stood reluctantly to his feet. "I'm afraid that tonight is not entirely a night of pleasure, or I would doubtlessly want to spend the entire evening with you," he said, helping her up.
Dru sighed, flushing from the compliment, but nodded. "You're working, then?"
Ivellimor nodded. "Yes. Can I- can I meet up with you later, though? What I need to do shouldn't take long."
She smiled. "I like that idea. Where and when do you want to meet?"
The two walked back out to the main street. Ivellimor considered for a couple of moments, and then pointed towards the actual docks. "I have a friend who owns a small pleasure boat," he said. "I believe that I can convince him to let me take it out later, if I promise to buy him an ale. So say... let's meet beside the boat, at midnight."
Dru peered at the boats. "That sounds like a lot of fun. Okay, I'll be there."
Ivellimor grinned happily, and then kissed the back of her hand before turning and running back into the crowd.
Dru sighed, and then looked around for anyone else that she knew. She saw a cluster of people from the Organization, but none that she knew very well. And she saw Kilat, who had his arm around a young delicate looking thing. He saw her looking, and winked over the girl's shoulder, before leading her off into the night.
She felt a momentary surge of jealousy, but shook it off. It had been her choice to stay free of romantic entanglements. It would be difficult to have a strong relationship with someone as opposed to the violence of the Organization as Kilat was.
Eventually, she did meet up with a couple of acquaintances of hers, and passed the time telling jokes and swapping stories with them, until closer to the appointed hour.
When that time came, she made her excuses, and started moving down towards the docks.
Something made her glance to the left, and just in time, too. A large man, with a saber. Coming right for her.
She dodged out of the way as best as she could, but his blade was able to slice through her shirt, leaving it gaping open. She whipped out her first knife, and lunged immediately at him.
He was not, apparently, expecting her to fight back, because he didn't even try to get out of the way of her dagger. It sunk into his stomach, up to the hilt.
"B***h!" He dropped his saber, and pulled his own dagger, moving to stab her.
She hastily grabbed her second dagger, leaving the first one in his stomach, but she didn't move fast enough. Her assailant's blade came up, in a vicious swing that left a jagged red line from stomach to chest.
Good, it wasn't deep, Dru thought, trying to focus more on the fight. She tried to keep in Papa's lessons in mind. Pain is a tool, not an impediment. She used her pain to fuel her anger, and used that anger to fuel her motions.
She drove her second dagger at the assassin. He was able to partially parry it out of the way, although it still scraped up the leather on one of his armored arms.
He took another swing at her stomach, but having learned her lesson, Dru danced to the side, falling back on her natural elven grace to get herself away from him.
She heard a whizzing sound over her head seconds before she noticed a glowing bolt of energy sinking into her opponent's chest. It had come from the crow's nest of a nearby ship. It didn't kill him, sadly, but he did stagger. It was clear that it wouldn't take much more to finish him off.
She moved to stab him again, and this time, he was too addled to fight her off. Her blade sunk through deep into his ribs. He started to slide to the ground, his eyes already starting to glaze over in death.
Dru bent down to grab her blades.
He whispered, one more time, "B***h," and jammed his knife into the meat of her thigh. And then died.
Dru snarled in pain, and jerked the blade out of her leg before she noticed that she had quite an audience. Many of the festival goers were applauding, and some money was being exchanged from those who thought she'd get beaten to those who'd had more faith in her.
Ivellimor was climbing down from the ship's crow's nest. His eyes were wide, and she could tell that he was really worried.
Most horrified of all, though, was Kilat. He was pale, and shaking, pushing his way through the crowd. "Dru! Dru! Are you alright?"
Dru smiled at him grimly. "I'm alive," she said.
Her words brought wild applause and raucous laughter from some of the bystanders, and Dru felt a surge of pride. She had done it! She had taken care of herself in a real fight. Oh, sure, she had had Ivellimor's help, but for once bodyguards hadn't charged out of nowhere and killed her foe. She stood over the fallen man, triumphantly and shouted, "Let this be a lesson for any who want to mess with me!"
This drew more applause as the crowd began to disperse. Kilat, however, looked repulsed. "You can't mean that," he said.
Ivellimor loomed over Dru, looking fearful for his life. Tensin had a reputation for being overprotective of his daughter, and there had been an assassination attempt on her tonight... He did glance over at Kilat, though, with a scowl. "Mean what?"
Kilat looked at Ivellimor with real distaste in his eyes, and then back at Dru. "You just killed a man... your first, I think? And all you can do is laugh about it? What kind of monster are they turning you into, anyway? I don't really know you anymore," he said, shaking his head. He stood there, stunned for a moment, and then began to move off into the crowd.
Dru stared at her friend's retreating back, and moved as if to follow him. Ivellimor put his hand on her shoulder, stopping her. "Let him go. He can't understand. Besides. You did this publicly, and are going to need to deal with the Watch." He gestured with his head towards two approaching officers.
Kilat and Dru strolled arm in arm down the street. Swagfest was here again, and it was one of the few times that Kilat's parents would let him out of the house, with no questions asked. The two elves were heading towards The Docks, where most of the party would be.
"So," teased Dru playfully, elbowing Kilat. "Are you going to meet up with any pretty girls tonight?"
Kilat blushed, but elbowed her back. "I doubt they'll even look at me."
Dru snorted, looking around. The closer that they got to the docks, the more crowded it got. The smell of sour ale filled the air, and many of the people on the street were drunk, and had been so for awhile. Papa had only allowed her to come after she promised that she would wear her knives. She patted them to reassure herself.
Kilat was looking at her with no small amount of amusement. "No one's going to attack us," he said.
Dru returned his smile. Kilat led a very sheltered life, and didn't know the things that she knew. "Well, if they do I'll have a nasty surprise for them," she said.
The smell of the ocean got stronger, and the two finally arrived at the Docks. Dru spotted Ivellimor, one of her father's wizards. "I see someone that I want to talk to," she murmured to Kilat.
Kilat's gaze moved over to Ivellimor, who was standing outside of one of the ale booths, waiting for a drink. He frowned a little, but nodded. "Alright. Be careful, Dru." He leaned over and kissed her on the mouth.
The two parted company, Kilat more reluctantly than Dru. She walked up to Ivellimor, and smiled at him. "Hi."
Ivellimor looked over his shoulder, and then smiled. "Drusilia. Hello." He turned so that he could look at her directly. "I was, as you can probably tell, waiting in line for a drink. Shall I buy you one as well?"
Dru grinned, enjoying the way that his blonde hair fell against his shoulders. "Yes, I'd like that."
He nodded, stepping up. "Two ales," he told the harried looking human vendor.
As the pair walked away, each holding a tankard, Ivellimor put an arm protectively over her shoulder, steering her away from a gang of leering orcs. "I'm surprised that your father let you out unattended," he said, peering around at the throngs of people.
Dru chuckled. "Oh, I have no doubts that there's someone, somewhere, who's keeping an eye on me." She smiled at Ivellimor, a rueful expression on her face. "I suppose that I should be grateful."
Ivellimor glanced at her. "He'll let you take care of yourself someday," he said. "Come... there"s got to be someplace more private that we can sit and talk."
"And don't forget drink," said Dru.
"And drink," he amended, with a grin.
The pair never found a place with complete privacy, but they did find a sidestreet that didn't have as much foot traffic on it. Ivellimor, ever the gentleman, helped her sit on a crate, before crouching next to her.
His eyes flickered over her form just long enough to let her know that he was admiring her, but not long enough to be rude. "So. Kennic has insinuated that you are getting quite skilled with daggers," he says, gesturing at the sheathed blades on either of her hips.
Dru nodded, taking a sip of ale. "Papa's been teaching me," she said.
Ivellimor shook his head. "You're being taught by the best, then. I've never seen someone handle a knife quite like Tensin Naïlo."
"Yeah," muttered Dru with a sigh. "Including his daughter."
Ivellimor laughed. "I don't think that it's a bit insulting to you and your prowess to say that you're not as good as your father." He put his hand on her knee gently. "I'm not as skilled with a blade," he said, "But if you ever want a sparring partner, you need only ask."
Dru peered at him suspiciously. "You're a wizard, Ivellimor."
He grinned at her, innocently. "Yes? And what of it?"
She batted at him. "I don't want any magical energy being chucked at me."
He chuckled, and said wryly, "Don't worry. No one in their right mind would ever shoot a Magic Missile into you, because you're"
"Tensin Naïlo's daughter," Dru finished for him.
He looked chagrined. "That must get old."
Dru shrugged. "Sometimes. Although most of the time I'm very proud to be his daughter."
Ivellimor finished off the last of his ale, watching her all the while, and then stood reluctantly to his feet. "I'm afraid that tonight is not entirely a night of pleasure, or I would doubtlessly want to spend the entire evening with you," he said, helping her up.
Dru sighed, flushing from the compliment, but nodded. "You're working, then?"
Ivellimor nodded. "Yes. Can I- can I meet up with you later, though? What I need to do shouldn't take long."
She smiled. "I like that idea. Where and when do you want to meet?"
The two walked back out to the main street. Ivellimor considered for a couple of moments, and then pointed towards the actual docks. "I have a friend who owns a small pleasure boat," he said. "I believe that I can convince him to let me take it out later, if I promise to buy him an ale. So say... let's meet beside the boat, at midnight."
Dru peered at the boats. "That sounds like a lot of fun. Okay, I'll be there."
Ivellimor grinned happily, and then kissed the back of her hand before turning and running back into the crowd.
Dru sighed, and then looked around for anyone else that she knew. She saw a cluster of people from the Organization, but none that she knew very well. And she saw Kilat, who had his arm around a young delicate looking thing. He saw her looking, and winked over the girl's shoulder, before leading her off into the night.
She felt a momentary surge of jealousy, but shook it off. It had been her choice to stay free of romantic entanglements. It would be difficult to have a strong relationship with someone as opposed to the violence of the Organization as Kilat was.
Eventually, she did meet up with a couple of acquaintances of hers, and passed the time telling jokes and swapping stories with them, until closer to the appointed hour.
When that time came, she made her excuses, and started moving down towards the docks.
Something made her glance to the left, and just in time, too. A large man, with a saber. Coming right for her.
She dodged out of the way as best as she could, but his blade was able to slice through her shirt, leaving it gaping open. She whipped out her first knife, and lunged immediately at him.
He was not, apparently, expecting her to fight back, because he didn't even try to get out of the way of her dagger. It sunk into his stomach, up to the hilt.
"B***h!" He dropped his saber, and pulled his own dagger, moving to stab her.
She hastily grabbed her second dagger, leaving the first one in his stomach, but she didn't move fast enough. Her assailant's blade came up, in a vicious swing that left a jagged red line from stomach to chest.
Good, it wasn't deep, Dru thought, trying to focus more on the fight. She tried to keep in Papa's lessons in mind. Pain is a tool, not an impediment. She used her pain to fuel her anger, and used that anger to fuel her motions.
She drove her second dagger at the assassin. He was able to partially parry it out of the way, although it still scraped up the leather on one of his armored arms.
He took another swing at her stomach, but having learned her lesson, Dru danced to the side, falling back on her natural elven grace to get herself away from him.
She heard a whizzing sound over her head seconds before she noticed a glowing bolt of energy sinking into her opponent's chest. It had come from the crow's nest of a nearby ship. It didn't kill him, sadly, but he did stagger. It was clear that it wouldn't take much more to finish him off.
She moved to stab him again, and this time, he was too addled to fight her off. Her blade sunk through deep into his ribs. He started to slide to the ground, his eyes already starting to glaze over in death.
Dru bent down to grab her blades.
He whispered, one more time, "B***h," and jammed his knife into the meat of her thigh. And then died.
Dru snarled in pain, and jerked the blade out of her leg before she noticed that she had quite an audience. Many of the festival goers were applauding, and some money was being exchanged from those who thought she'd get beaten to those who'd had more faith in her.
Ivellimor was climbing down from the ship's crow's nest. His eyes were wide, and she could tell that he was really worried.
Most horrified of all, though, was Kilat. He was pale, and shaking, pushing his way through the crowd. "Dru! Dru! Are you alright?"
Dru smiled at him grimly. "I'm alive," she said.
Her words brought wild applause and raucous laughter from some of the bystanders, and Dru felt a surge of pride. She had done it! She had taken care of herself in a real fight. Oh, sure, she had had Ivellimor's help, but for once bodyguards hadn't charged out of nowhere and killed her foe. She stood over the fallen man, triumphantly and shouted, "Let this be a lesson for any who want to mess with me!"
This drew more applause as the crowd began to disperse. Kilat, however, looked repulsed. "You can't mean that," he said.
Ivellimor loomed over Dru, looking fearful for his life. Tensin had a reputation for being overprotective of his daughter, and there had been an assassination attempt on her tonight... He did glance over at Kilat, though, with a scowl. "Mean what?"
Kilat looked at Ivellimor with real distaste in his eyes, and then back at Dru. "You just killed a man... your first, I think? And all you can do is laugh about it? What kind of monster are they turning you into, anyway? I don't really know you anymore," he said, shaking his head. He stood there, stunned for a moment, and then began to move off into the crowd.
Dru stared at her friend's retreating back, and moved as if to follow him. Ivellimor put his hand on her shoulder, stopping her. "Let him go. He can't understand. Besides. You did this publicly, and are going to need to deal with the Watch." He gestured with his head towards two approaching officers.
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