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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 1181899" data-attributes="member: 143">Heh, well it's clear that Arun is the most provocative character, at least thus far; he draws the most critical comments, while at the same time running away with the "favorite character" award. I've left him largely undeveloped as a character thus far, but we'll learn more about his background (and why he's the way he is) as we move ahead in the series.  The next module ("Zenith Trajectory") focuses intently upon the question of honor, and dwarvish honor in particular.But for now it's time for today's post, which we'll call, "Revelations."* * * * * Chapter 61Zenna saw the dwarf’s movement, and quickly stepped in to intervene.  “No!” she hissed, blocking him from the unconscious woman. The dwarf’s look could have etched stone.  “You don’t know what you’re about, woman.  Drow are dangerous, even when injured, and their hearts as black as...”“As those of tieflings?” Zenna interrupted.  In a flurry she drew back her cowl, and tugged the magical hat from her head.  For a moment her visage flickered, and then her true face was revealed. “You?” the dwarf asked in surprise.  “You possess the blood of fiends...” For a moment his face betrayed a rare conflict of feelings, as he tried to sort out the implications of this revelation.  Finally, his expression darkened.  “Why did you not reveal this before, woman?”Zenna sighed tiredly.  “Have you never been judged for what you are on the outside, Arun?  Is it how we look, or our heritage, that defines what we are... or our actions, our hearts, the truth that lies inside?”The dwarf frowned, and turned slightly away from her.  “Arun... I am what I always was.  I did not intend to deceive you.  Concealing what I am has... it’s become second nature, I suppose.  Most people are quick to rush to judgment, when they see the signs of my heritage.  My father was luckier; he could pass as human, though there was always something ‘wrong’ with him that people could sense.  But he did a lot of good, as well, and he ended up joining the Harpers.  It didn’t make him a better father, but I suppose it means something in the larger scheme of the world...”She trailed off, unable to think of anything else she could say. Mole’s voice came to them again from the corridor.  “Are you still all right in there?”Zenna looked at Arun.  “Are we all right, paladin?”Arun fixed her with a hard stare, but finally nodded.  “Aye,” he said.  “But that doesn’t necessarily mean that the drow’s all right!” Zenna nodded.  “Well, it looks like she wasn’t with the bandits, anyway.”  She turned back toward the open doorway.  “We’re fine!” Zenna shouted back to the others.  “We’ve found someone... she’s hurt.”“Do you want me to come through?” Illewyn asked. “Wait a moment,” Zenna returned.  Returning her attention to Arun, she said, “Let me see what I can do.  If she turns me into a newt or something, you have my permission to give her a good bashing.”Ignoring the dwarf’s scowl, she knelt beside the unconscious woman.  Her body heaved slightly with her breath, but she’d suffered several injuries—likely from the blades of the raiders—and her skin was chill to the touch.  Zenna knew that Arun had the power to heal her, but doubted that the dwarf would be quick to help, out of pride if nothing else.  She could call to Illewyn, but the cleric had already sacrificed her magical protection against the cold to help her; going through the doorway and the brown mold would be dangerous.  With a sigh, she reluctantly reached into her pocket for the holy symbol.  Without consciously thinking about it, she turned her body slightly to conceal the motion from Arun.  The amulet was cold in her hand, just a piece of carved metal...  But as she stared at it, the device seemed to grow larger in her vision, and she felt her thoughts drawing inward, focusing in a way similar to the meditation techniques she’d been training in as a child.  Somewhere deep in that place was her magic, the tendrils of energy that formed the Weave, accessed by the words and gestures that she stored in her mind.  This was different, somehow, but again Zenna felt that same vague sense of commonality.  Blue fire blazed in her hand, wisps of soft light that dissolved into the skin of the injured woman. In response the woman stirred, her mouth opening as she drew a deep breath into her body.  She heard the creak of metal as Arun shifted, no doubt readying himself to pound the drow into paste if she made any threatening gestures.  Zenna could see her wounds closing, and she thought she could feel the woman’s body grow warmer, as the healing touch of the magic—her magic—banished the cold that had gripped her.  Her eyes opened.  “I am not dead,” she said, her voice a soft, melodic sound.Zenna opened her mouth to speak, but Arun beat her to it. “No, drow, and if you want to keep it that way, you’d better be quick to answer some questions.”Despite the dwarf’s hostility, the woman nodded calmly, drawing herself up with Zenna’s help to a sitting position.  “I will do what I can.”  She looked around, taking them all in, the battered door, the dwarf’s armor with the sigil of Moradin clearly etched into its surface.  Her eyes lingered slightly on Zenna’s face, and with a flush the wizardess realized that she hadn’t lifted her cowl or put her magical hat back on after her confrontation with Arun.  “What’s your name?” Zenna asked her. “I am Shensen Tesseril.  I maintain the shrine here, the small sanctuary to the Rider of the Winds.”“Shaundakul,” Zenna said, and the woman nodded. “What of the bandits?” she asked.  “Dead,” Arun said.  “Or at least most of them,” he amended.  “We got that half-monkey leader of theirs, though.”The drow woman shivered noticeably, and not from the cold—although it was cold in here, Zenna realized, though the chill did not touch her through her magical protection.  She took off her cloak and wrapped it around Shensen, who nodded gratefully. “What of the cleric?” “He didn’t make it, sadly,” Zenna said.  “That is a great sadness, the loss of a valiant man of faith, but not what I meant.  I am referring to the woman... the human creature with the hair of fire and the markings of the Black Fist upon her.  During the assault upon the Lucky Monkey, she gave commands to the were-creature and the other bandits.”Zenna and Arun exchanged a look.  “We saw no such cleric,” Zenna said.   “There was a fire dark and terrible burning within that one,” Shensen said.  “In a way, she was more frightening than the monstrosity that slew the servant of Helm.”“Why don’t you tell us what happened?” Zenna asked.Shensen told the story briefly, but with enough detail for them to get a clear understanding of what had happened.  The attack had come the previous night, late enough so that many of the roadhouse’s guests were already in their rooms.  The attackers were skilled and well-equipped, a fact that Zenna could certainly attest to, and they made short work of the staff and those few patrons able to defend themselves.  Shensen had been in the small shrine to Shaundakul when the attack had begun, and was drawn to the fighting by the noise of shouts and broken glass.  She arrived to find Sarcem, the High Priest of Helm, rallying some of the survivors.  The defenders were forced to take refuge in the cellar as more bandits converged on their position, and it was there that Tongueater and his warriors finally overcame them.  Even as the were-baboon struck down Sarcem, Shensen fled into the cold-storage room, recovering the box of brown mold kept there.  Already wounded, and with several bandits in pursuit, she was able to release the mold over the door to the well chamber and seal it with a wood shape spell before the chilling effects of the mold overcame her.  She was barely able to crawl away from the range of the mold before passing out.  “And that is how you found me,” she concluded.  “Have I answered your questions satisfactorily, master dwarf?”“You haven’t mentioned what you’re doing here, a drow, in the surface world,” Arun pointed out. “I am only half-drow, but I make no apologies for what I am.  Would you suggest that I am to blame for the color of my skin, or the practices of those who share my bloodline?  Certainly we are rare here, here under the sun and stars... but not unheard of, certainly.... much like your own people, perhaps?  In any case, I understand your wariness, but I ask that you not offer judgment before you have come to know me.”Arun grunted noncommittally.  Zenna thought that Shensen’s words were much like her own, and suspected that Arun was feeling a bit conflicted at being told off twice in quick succession.  She managed to hide a faint smile at the thought. “We’d better get you out of here,” Zenna said.  “Our companions are in the outer corridor, but we need to find a way to get through the mold.”Shensen took a deep breath and stood.  “I feel weak, but perhaps can make it through one last time.”Zenna gave the drow woman one of the potions they’d taken off of Tongueater; restored further by the healing power of the draught, they turned to brave the mold once more.  The growth had expanded somewhat from the heat it had drained off of their bodies, but dashing through they were all able to make it back to where the others waited.  After some introductions, they returned to the ground floor of the roadhouse. It was now closer to dawn than the preceding dusk.  The companions pressed their search for a brief while, but they were all exhausted from the long travel and the ordeals they had faced here.  Finally they decided to hole up and rest.  They checked the shutters and doors one last time to be sure they were secure, set up a barricade near the staff quarters, set a schedule for watches, and collapsed into a deep and dreamless sleep.</blockquote>

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