Drusilia Naïlo: The Making of a Watchman

[drnuncheon]

Re: Re: First Lesson

And I must say that with a father like Tensin, it's easy to see why Dru is somewhat... anti-social.

I've always said that it's a miracle Dru turned out as sane as she did. Now you can start to see why...

J
and eventually, we may even discover why Tensin is the way he is...

 

[Drusilia Nailo]

Drusilia scowled out the window of the house at the falling rain. The weather had just ensured that Papa would not be teaching her how to use a dagger today, which likely meant that he wouldn't come to see her at all. He had come last night, with Celia in tow, and had taken Kennic away. "I have need of Kennic right now," he had told her. "So for now, Celia is going to watch you."

Drusilia turned to glance around the room, looking for where her bodyguard was.

Celia was sitting in a chair nearby, sharpening her sword. Drusilia climbed down out of the window seat and moved so that she was standing directly in front of the woman.

Celia paused in her sharpening, eyebrows raised. "Yes?"

Drusilia pointed at the sword. "It's different from Kennic's." She smiled at Celia, willing her to talk to her. She was bored and lonely, and missed Papa.

Celia looked at the girl for a moment, and then set the weapon across her knees. "It's called a cutlass," she told her. "Kennic's sword is a rapier. I was trained to use a cutlass from a very young age."

"As young as me?"

With a smirk, Celia shook her head. "No, not when I was as young as you. But not too long after." She chuckled, then, going back to sharpening the blade. "I had a mother when I was your age, to stop my father from doing anything rash." She winced after she said that, as if she wished she could unsay those words.

Drusilia thought about that, sitting down on the ground. "Do you think that your father would have taught you how to use the...cutlass earlier, if it weren't for your mother?"

Celia nodded. "Yes, I do think so," she said. "When my mother died, I had to go with my father to sea. He didn't want for me to be helpless." She looked up, her eyes locking with Drusilia's. "Much like your father, I would imagine."

Drusilia nodded. That Papa wanted for her to be strong, and able to protect herself was not a secret from anyone. "Do you think, if I had a mother, that she would keep Papa from training me in weapons?"

With a grimace, Celia shrugged. "I don't know, kid," she said, with a trace of impatience. "Probably. She'd probably want for you to learn how to be a girl. That's something you're not going to be able to get from your father, no matter how much he cares."

Drusilia scowled. "I don't want to be a girl anyway," she said, stung that there might be some part of her that was deficient. "I've seen them. They wear stupid clothes, and laugh too much."

Celia only grinned. "Don't yell at me," she said. "I'm not exactly a normal girl either." She shrugged. "You won't be missing much, from what I can tell. At least, until you're older."

Drusilia sighed. "I wonder why my mother isn't around. Papa never answers me when I ask him."

"Don't ask him," said the woman, looking at Drusilia with an intense expression in her eyes. "It only gives him pain. I don't know who your mother was, or why she isn't here, but whatever the reason for it is, talking about it makes him unhappy. So just don't do it."

Feeling ashamed, Drusilia looked down into her lap. "I didn't want to hurt him," she said in a small voice. "I just wanted to know."

Celia patted her on the head, awkwardly. "There there," she said. "It didn't do any permanent damage. Your father loves you, and he'll forgive you for any pain that you accidentally caused. Just don't do it again."

Drusilia nodded, sighing heavily. "So what happened to your mother?"

"Ah. That's a long story," said Celia. "I'll give you the short version, though. My father was a pirate, and my mother and I lived in a coastal village, waiting for him to come home and see us."

Drusilia grinned. She liked pirate stories. She scooted closer to Celia's feet, looking up at her expectantly.

"It doesn't make for a good story, or a happy one," she warned, "But I'll tell you anyway. Once, when my father was at sea, the village was attacked by orcs. They killed everyone that they could find, except for those that they drug off in chains. My mother was one of the slain."

Drusilia bit her lip, listening with horror. "Did they get you?"

Celia shook her head, with a faint smile. "No, they didn't see me. I was hiding in the pantry, and they never noticed me."

"What did you do?"

"Well, I went outside, when I didn't hear the orcs anymore, and saw all of the dead bodies. I think I wandered around for awhile, not knowing what to do next. I ate some of the food that the orcs didn't carry away. Fortunately for me, my father showed up only a few days later."

"Did he take you away?"

Celia nodded. "Yeah, he did. I went to sea with him, and learned how to be a sailor. I also learned how to fight, though he wouldn't let me do any pirating until I was older."

Drusilia's eyes sparkled. "I'll bet that was a lot of fun! I want to be a pirate when I'm older."

Celia studied her, gravely. "You'll have the opportunity to do so, if that's what you want," she said. "Your father has all of the connections that you'll need. But I somehow am guessing that he's chosen a different life for you."

Drusilia shrugged. That was too far in the future to get worried about. "Alright," she said noncommitally.

Celia smirked. "It's good that you're being taught to defend yourself. That I was taught to defend myself. My mother was a good woman, but she didn't know how. She relied on my father's reputation to keep her alive, and eventually that wasn't enough. That is what being a girl gets you," she said.

There was a heavy silence, broken by Drusilia saying, "Now I really don't want to be a girl."

"Well, you don't have to be. I don't think your father is going to let you."

 

[Drusilia Nailo]

Antisocial? I don't know what you're talking about!

 

[Sniktch]

Bravo!

I'm really digging this deep look into the past of one of my favorite watchmen. I'm glad DrN talked you into sharing this with us. Keep up the great work, Dru.

As for you, DiFier, get cracking! I want to see how Dru's partner got to be who he is today, too.

 

[Drusilia Nailo]

I'm very happy to see that people like my stories! I know that I enjoyed writing them, and explaining how Dru got to be the way she is in the current time line. There'll probably be a couple more stories from her childhood, and then I'll advance the timeline a bit.

 

[Drusilia Nailo]

Sacrifice

Drusilia sat in the parlor of Suina's house, fidgeting on the couch. She'd been told to be quiet while Suina entertained a gentleman guest upstairs, but she wished that they had invited her to come up with them. It was dull down here, and it was getting dark, too. The lamps were suspended from the ceiling, far beyond her reach.

Just then, she heard Kennic's footfalls, followed by Celia's slightly lighter ones. "Poor child, sitting alone in the dark," said Kennic kindly. He moved to the first lamp, lighting it, and moved on to the second, and then the third, until the room was bathed in the soft glow from the fire.

Drusilia looked up, frowning. "People always leave me alone. I hate it. I'm bored here."

Kennic made a sympathetic face, but shrugged. "I'm afraid that there isn't anything we can do about that right now," he told her. "You'll understand when you're older."

Her scowl deepening, Drusilia sighed heavily. "Fine," she said, not believing him. "Do I have to go rest now?"

Kennic nodded. "You need to meditate tonight. We're moving you in the morning, and you'll need to be rested."

She sighed. "I wanted to stay up until Papa came home."

Celia sat down on the couch next to her. "I don't think that your papa is coming home tonight, dear," she said, her normally impatient voice remarkably gentle.

Kennic nodded, lifting Drusilia up, and then setting her back down onto his lap once he took her spot on the couch. "She's right, child. Your father isn't going to be coming back tonight."

Drusilia's brows knit themselves into a frown. "Is he alright?"

Kennic and Celia looked at each other, and then Kennic nodded. "He's fine, but he is going to have to lay really low for awhile. He'll come back to you when it's safe. He doesn't want you to be hurt..."

Drusilia sighed, but nodded. "Alright," she said grudgingly. She turned to look at Celia, asking her a question that she had been thinking about asking ever since she'd heard the bodyguard's life story. "Why did you go from being a pirate to being my bodyguard?"

Celia blinked, surprised at the change in subject, but answered the question. "I got lonely at sea," she said. "I wanted to be with other elves. Your father offered me a place here, and I accepted."

"Anyway," said Kennic. "It's time for you to rest." He stood, ignoring Drusilia's protests, and carried her from the room.

Several hours later...

Drusilia's eyes snapped open in the middle of the night. What was that noise? It sounded like something scratching on the window. Her heart began to beat furiously, and she swallowed hard. Was this something real? Did she dare call her guards? The noise sounded again, a faint scraping. It was enough to goad the child into action, though, and she yelled, "Kennic!"

Just then, the window smashed open, shards of glass flying inward. A pair of black gloved hands was gripping the window sill, pulling a larger body up. Drusilia's bedroom door flew open, and Celia ran inside, her sword out and ready. "What the h-ll is going on in here?" Her eyes fastened onto the hands at the windowsill, and she set her jaw grimly. "Drusilia, get out of here."

Drusilia knew that she should be moving, but she seemed frozen into place, watching everything play out. The figure at the windowsill rolled into the room, a wicked looking sword suddenly in his hand. He didn't go for the obvious target that Celia was presenting, but for Drusilia. Grabbing the girl by the collar, he hauled her up out of bed, letting her dangle. He ignored her squirming and kicking. "We just want the girl," he said. "Get out of here and you can live."

"Never," growled Celia, starting to advance on him.

The man held the sword tip at Drusilia's throat. "Don't. Come. Any. Closer."

Celia froze in place. "Don't do anything that we'll both regret," she said softly. "You can't know how her father will react if you hurt her."

Pain, at the base of her throat. The man pressed the blade against her tender skin just hard enough to draw blood. Drusilia sucked her breath in, trying hard not to cry. Papa wouldn't want her to cry. Celia wouldn't like it either. Where was Kennic?

"Drop your sword," said the man, obviously speaking to Celia.

Celia's response was to leap forward, tackling the man, along with Drusilia. The three of them landed in a crashing heap on the floor. "Never," she repeated. She looked over at Drusilia with her cool green eyes, and said, "Sorry, kid." And then, before Drusilia had a chance to think or react, she backhanded her, hard. And Dru went sailing back, hitting the bedroom wall with a thump.

It was the force of the blow against the wall that made her lose consciousness for a few moments. When she opened her eyes again, it was to absolute chaos. The swordsman and Celia were fighting each other viciously. The room was a swirl of blades and blood. It looked like the man was getting the worst of it, though, because Celia had carved him up a lot. His blood was soaking through his clothes in many places, and was starting to color the floor. The fighters kept tracking through it, leaving sticky footprints on the plush carpet as they fought.

Just then, several things happened. Kennic ran through the door, his face pale, sword already drawn. "Drusilia!" His shout was one that was near panic, which made Drusilia look over to see what he was so upset about. The unnamed swordsman was coming right at her, his sword aimed directly for her chest. There was, Drusilia noted with a sense of complete unreality, a smile on his face. This wasn't happening...

But it was. Then there was a blur of motion as Celia darted in. Unable to do anything to stop the swordblow, the frantic bodyguard did the next best thing -- she threw herself, at the last moment, between the sword blade and the child. The swordsman's blade sunk into the elven woman's stomach, and Drusilia's world went red.

Pinned under Celia's weight, Drusilia watched as Kennic came up behind the man, stabbing him with his own sword. She watched him cut down the invader bit by bit, fueled almost entirely by his rage and fear. All the while that she watched the gory scene, she felt herself getting soaked in Celia's blood.

"Celia?" Drusilia asked in a tiny voice.

There was no answer. It was then that Drusilia realized that she wasn't breathing anymore.

"Celia!" Drusilia began to try to push the woman off of her. She had to get Kennic's attention so that he could help her!

Just then, the swordsman fell, and Kennic drove his rapier through the man's throat with a vicious, final twist. "Stupid b-st-rd," whispered Kennic sadly, and then turned towards Drusilia and Celia. He gasped. "Oh no..." Running forward, he dropped to one knee, checking Celia for a pulse. He bit his lower lip, pulling her off of Drusilia. "Are you alright?" His question was more of a demand than a question, and he thrust Celia to the side like a limp, discarded toy.

Drusilia nodded, bursting into tears. "Celia's hurt, though."

Kennic pulled Drusilia onto his lap. "There's nothing that we can do for Celia," he said, voice tight. "She's dead." He stared at the woman for a moment, and then got to his feet. "We've got to get you out of here," he said.

And so once again, they went out onto the nighttime streets of Freeport, during a howling rainstorm. Kennic trudged through the street, clutching the sobbing Drusilia to his chest, and trying to protect her from the wet with his cloak. "I'm so sorry you had to see that," he said, almost sobbing himself. "I shouldn't have been resting... I knew they were looking for you."

Drusilia closed her eyes to keep the sheets of water from getting into her eyes, and started trembling. She couldn't get the final expression on Celia's face out of her mind. Contorted in pain, frozen that way... forever, at least in Drusilia's mind. "But I don't want Celia to be dead," she said in a small voice. "Kennic,do something about it!" She flailed at him with her fists, before burying her face in his chest, losing herself in her tears again. "Where are we going?"

"We're going to Papa," said Kennic with a sigh. "He'll be able to fix all of this."

 

[dpdx]

Another satisfied lurker

I, too, like this Story Hour. I can also say that it stands pretty well on its own, without the background of Book One (which I've read only the first bit of. It took me three searches to even find that thread.).

 

[Drusilia Nailo]

Celia's funeral had been a nightmare. Her pale corpse had been dressed in clothing that Drusilia knew she'd have never chosen to wear in life, though her cutlass, at least, had remained with her. She had been stretched out on a marble slab, and the guests had come and gone. All of them were discussing Celia as if she had been a stranger, and none of them seemed very saddened by her death. And no one spoke to the lone elven child, standing near the body. Drusilia hated all of them. All of the smiling faces, all of them trying to get into Papa's good graces by attending the funeral of one of his most trusted.

Now she was finally home, or in what would serve as home for the next few weeks. She was sitting on the floor, staring out at the sheets of rain that were falling from the sky. Her chin on her knees, the picture of dejection.

She heard footsteps behind her, and then heard someone sit in a chair. "Drusilia, come here." It was Papa.

She turned to look at him, and saw that he was holding her hairbrush.

"Come here and sit in front of me, on the floor," he said.

Drusilia obeyed, leaning against his knees.

He began to brush her hair gently, working out the tangles that would inevitably form throughout the day, every day. "Celia's funeral was hard for you," he said, after a few minutes of brushing.

Drusilia bit her lower lip. "I didn't want for Celia to die," she said quietly. "Especially for me."

"Ah. I wondered if you were feeling guilty about that," he said, setting the brush down and beginning to work out the knots in a particularly dense snarl of hair. "You should not, though."

"Why not?" Drusilia frowned, even though he couldn't see her do it. "She'd still be alive if it weren't for me."

"Because people like you, and like me, are protected by people like Celia. She knew the risks when she signed on."

Drusilia sighed, wincing as he pulled her hair. "I don't want for people to die because of me," she persisted, stubbornly. "It doesn't seem right."

Papa finally worked out the snarl, and then picked up the brush again, smoothing the hair down.

"Maybe not," he said, "But you will always have guards, so you had best get used to it. Make no mistakes about it, there will be more attempts on your life, because of who you are, because of who I am."

"Then I want to learn to fight better so that I don't have to have guards anymore."

Papa chuckled. "We'll see how you do."

Drusilia's shoulders sagged. "I don't want anyone else to die because of me," she repeated, quietly.

Papa was quiet for a moment, and then said, "Would you prefer to die instead?"

Drusilia turned around to stare at him, since he seemed to be done with her hair anyway. "No," she said, hating to admit it.

"Well then. You must have guards," he said, standing to his feet. "So that you can stay alive." His eyes narrowed shrewdly, and he added, "After all, if you died, it would make Celia's sacrifice be for nothing. You wouldn't want that, would you?"

Drusilia swallowed hard. "No, no. Never that."

Papa nodded, looking satisfied. "Then you will keep living, under my protection until I decide that you are capable of protecting yourself."

"Alright," Drusilia said heavily. "But I want to continue my fighting lessons."

Papa smiled at her. "Oh, you will." He patted her on the head. He moved to the door, opening it. "You are in the compound now," he told her. "The place is bristling with my people. No one will attack," he said, to reassure her. "We will be here until I have utterly slaughtered the opposition." He paused, studying his daughter to see how she would react.

Drusilia stared at him. "When they're all dead," she said, after some thought, "They won't come after us anymore, I guess."

Papa nodded. "And, by now, word is out that someone made an attempt on your life. I need to make the point that using my daughter is a mistake." His voice turned cold, and he turned away, as if reminded that he had work to do. "Good night, Daughter."

Drusilia moved back over to the window, watching the rain some more. She found herself hoping that Papa's vengeance would be swift and merciless. She wished that she could be with him when he did it, to avenge Celia. With a sigh, she turned away from the window. She was hungry. It was time to go on with living.

 

[Douane]

A word of warning to those, who, like me, came here for for a nice and short storyhour to slowly start their involvement with this forum:

After reading the early exploits of Drusilia Nailo, I felt somehow compelled to forswear sleeping and to go back and read Book One and Two of the Freeport Story Hour. Subsequent trips to the temple of Kherarditinos and some generous donations to the same have brought forth the conclusion that my thoughts were altered by the means of an ancient magical artifact, the "Doorstopper of Yig". So please beware!


Folkert

 

[DiFier]

Actually I just used charm person on you.

Wow how long did it take you to read books 1 & 2?