Fan Fiction ❯ Demons and Paladins ❯ Anti-Heroics ( Chapter 1 )

Demons and Paladins

By: bsmart

Disclaimer:Why the hell am I writing this? Nobody reads them and they have no legal weight. It's a complete waste of time and bandwidth and yet I'm still typing. I'm going to take a shot in the dark and rate this fic NC17, for sex, violence and language, the good stuff, often all at once. This is a rewrite of the ending of Neverwinter Nights, an RPG for the computer. It combines Neverwinter Nights with the expansion Hordes of the Underdark, there's no Shadows of Undrentide, and no Deekin.

"…" Normal Speech

Chapter One: Anti-Heroics

"NASHER!"

Lord Nasher Aragondor, ruler of Neverwinter, adventurer of great fame, and recovering Wailing Death victim looked up from the spectacle taking place in front of the Hall of Justice. The woman who had roared his name stood astride the top of the Hall and her fierce gaze would not be satisfied without his attention, and he supposed he owed her that much. In the months since he had first laid eyes on Mala Intfia the half-elven woman had changed greatly. The brooding mercenary fighter that had been the only survivor of the attack on the Neverwinter Academy had changed every time he'd seen her and each time it was for the worse in his opinion. Her shoulder length purple hair now had a small pair of horns emerging from it; her green eyes now burned with an unholy light and most disturbing of all were the blood red dragon's wings that now emerged from her back. When he had first seen those wings he had assumed them to be a trophy from the dragons she had slain and whose scales she now wore, until they had moved.

"That is Lord Nasher, even to you," the regent replied, his deep rumbling voice filling the square even as he overlooked the proceedings from a balcony on Castle Never.

If she had cared or even heard what he said she gave no sign of it. "I'm here for my payment!"

"You were compensated for your services mercenary."

The air seemed to shimmer around Mala's form at the mention of compensation. "Oh no! I was never paid lifting the siege on your city, for bringing you Maugrim's head OR Morag's and I was most certainly never compensated for bringing you her!"

Nasher's gaze followed Mala's finger back down to the square in front of the Hall of Justice. The scorch marks of Desther's execution pyre still marred the soft gray granite stones of the square, and a noose still hung from great tree near the Hall, and now a tall wooden platform marred the pristine beauty of the square. Atop the platform were only two figures one burly man all in black, hooded and grasping the shaft of a great axe and a single half-elvish woman dressed in the simple silver robes of a priestess of Tyr. Aribeth de Tylmarande hadn't been bound in anyway, no shackles or chains, not even a rope to hold her in place, she had come to her execution willingly, accepting her punishment and laying her graceful neck upon the gnarled, blood-stained executioner's block without even being told.

"Now is not the time to discuss the riches you seek, it is a time of justice." Nasher replied.

At some point, years ago, Mala's smile might have been considered beautiful but now as her lips pulled back to expose a hint of the fangs she now had a shiver had passed down Nasher's spine.

"This time they coincide oh Lord of Neverwinter."

Nasher saw Aribeth grimace at Mala's voice. What connection the two had he didn't know but Mala had constantly asked about her and in the end it had been the dragon disciple who had convinced his wayward paladin to repent and return. "Cease this foolishness, what you have done gives you no right to disrupt the justice of Neverwinter."

Mala's voice sounded like a whisper but everyone in the square could hear it. "I have seen the justice of Neverwinter," she hissed full of scorn, "Disrupting it is far from a crime."

Fenthick, Mala's words brought back memories of the elvish cleric to Nasher, all of them of his once trusted advisors mock trial and execution, all to appease a blood thirsty mob. "What is it you want mercenary," Nasher growled filling his last word with all the scorn he could.

The hero of Neverwinter extended a single graceful finger down towards the square. "Only what is due me.....her."

The collective gasp of the crowd and the roar of voices that followed would have drowned out anything that Nasher could have said in reply, which was just as well, he didn't know how too. On top of the executioner's platform Aribeth spun to her feet to stare at Mala. The executioner took a threatening step towards her but she paid him no mind and when she made no attempt to escape he took no more action, Lord Nasher had ordered that she be treated with all the respect she had been afforded when she had still served the city.

For minutes the crowd carried on, shocked, horrified, appalled, maybe even a few encouraging, but none speechless but they all fell silent when their Lord waved his hand.

"You would have me pardon her?! She is responsible for the deaths of thousands, she delivered this city to her enemies and you would have me absolve her of those atrocities."

Mala's deep belly laugh didn't seem faked in the least; she was genuinely amused at his question. "Pardon her? Pardon her?! Who said anything about a pardon?" Her smile fell from her face and the unholy fire in her eyes flared to life, "I want her."

The crowd again burst into a furor and Nasher had a respite. Could he just give Aribeth to that woman...that...thing? Justice had to be served, but would executing her be just? She had the blood of thousands on her hands, how could executing her, especially given the remorse she obviously felt, be anything but a mercy? And Fenthick....the elf's death to appease a mob still weighed heavily on Nasher. Fenthick had been deceived himself; he was guilty of nothing more then trusting a supposedly holy man to help, of trying to help the people of Neverwinter. If Fenthick was guilty of helping Desther then he himself was guilty of allowing it to happen, but after suffering the beginnings of the Wailing Death itself and watching his city begin to tear itself apart in its fury executing Fenthick had seemed the only way to calm them, and was this any different. Executing Aribeth would serve nothing, not even justice, only the gods could deal with her crimes and killing her would only serve the blood lust of the city, and Nasher wanted more then that for his city. He had let his beautiful beacon be tarnished by the death of an innocent before, would he now kill one who was guilty just to make them happy. His city was better then that, then to find a scapegoat for any misfortune that befell them and then bathe in their blood, Nasher knew his city was better then that, his people were better then that.

But give her to Mala? Would that be any better? Just being around the mercenary was troubling, she exuded an aura of malice and rage, just being near her would sap the strength of any good person. Nasher had heard many stories of the city's hero, both good and ill. Stories of Mala giving her last coin to a child so that they could eat and stories of her executing those who had surrendered to her, if it had been anyone else he would have assumed people were mistaken about who they spoke but it was hard to mistake Mala for anyone else, especially now. Would that be a suitable punishment, to force Aribeth a paladin of the god of justice to spend the rest of her days as the thrall of someone like Mala Intfia? Could he condemn her to that, could he condemn someone to slavery at the hands of that....demoness?

"Aribeth is not some coin to be bartered, and she must pay for her cr..."

"DO NOT PLAY GAMES WITH ME HUMAN!" Mala's sweet voice now had a deep grating growl to it and a high-pitched hiss. "Her life is forfeit to you, it has no value but to appease these blood thirsty cattle!" she snarled with a wave of her hand towards the crowd. "So give her to me!"

"You presume much to dare threaten me in my own ci...."

"I have ripped liches apart, crushed the life from demons with my bare hands, killed a dozen dragons, butchered the Luskan army that attacked this city, ripped Maugrim's still beating heart from his chest, and drank the blood of the Creator's Queen. Give me what I want," the stone beneath her feet began to char, "or I swear on the grave of Bhaal that I will burn YOUR city to the ground."

Nasher winced in his mind, he had been hoping that she would have just demanded her payment again; having threatened him it would be difficult to just let Aribeth go without appearing weak. "Perhaps it is time to admit I'm not all powerful," he whispered. I have already had one man executed to sate the bloodlust of a mob; I will not make that mistake again. "Aribeth de Tylmarande, executing you will not bring justice to the thousands you have helped to kill; one life cannot make up for them. So your sentence is to live on, and live on in the service of this....creature as her thrall till the end of your days."

Aribeth's shock was unmistakable as she gazed up at her former Lord and then her new master in turn. She did not know whether to be thankful or horrified. In many ways she had welcomed her death, life with the knowledge of her betrayal was just too painful but her sense of justice knew Nasher's words to be true, her death could not make up for what she had done and letting her live would be a much worse punishment, but to live on with...her, was unthinkable.

"Perfect," Mala purred.

Nasher glared at her, "You demoness and your new thrall are banished from this place, if you ever appear again in the lands of Neverwinter you will be killed on sight."

Mala just smiled and nodded towards Nasher. Then she hurled herself from atop the hall and with her wings she landed with a flutter atop the platform before Aribeth. The crowd didn't know how to respond as Mala produced a golden collar from the bag at her side and slid it home around Aribeth's neck.

Aribeth was so dumbstruck by the events of the last few minutes that she didn't respond to Mala's alighting of the platform or even the collar as the hot metal band was locked around her neck. Only the executioner's sudden lunge towards Mala broke her daze. "Look ou..."

Mala glanced back over her shoulder but made no move, she simply let the executioner's great axe slam down upon her shoulder.

For the first time ever the executioner had been looking forward to doing his duty. The Wailing Death had claimed most of his family, his wife, most of his children, his parents, and the few he had left had been killed by the Luskan army that Aribeth had led. Nasher's pronouncement that he would just let her go had been too much for the man. When the hero of the city hand landed on the platform he had acted, he would strike her down and then kill Aribeth, he would make her pay. He put every bit of his strength into the blow against Mala; he would cleave her in half from her left shoulder to her right hip. The axe crashed into the dragon disciple's armor, and nothing happened.

The axe glanced off the pauldron of Mala's armor like he'd struck her with a stick, the demoness didn't even flinch. He was recovering the axe for another blow when she finally did something. Mala's hand was a blur as she grabbed hold of the axe beneath its head and crushed the ash shaft like it was piece of straw. The metal blade was still falling towards the wooden deck when Mala spun and backhanded the man in the chest. The first twenty-five meters of the man's flight were uninterrupted, but then he slammed into one of the great marble columns that lined the way to the Hall of Justice. He came to an immediate stop and fell the ten meters to the ground amidst a shower of broken shards and dust of marble from where his body had hit the column. He didn't move.

The crowd, Aribeth, and even Nasher were speechless and they remained so even as Mala reached out to draw her thrall in close, wrapped her wings around her, and disappeared.

They found their voices soon after.

**************************************************

"Why?"

The eternal question, the one everyone asked and no one had a good answer for, not really.

"Why what?" Mala snarled.

"Why this?" Aribeth asked, grabbing hold of the golden collar around her neck even though Mala's back was to her. "Why save me, why make me a slave?"

Unbeknownst to Aribeth Mala frowned. She didn't have a good reason. "Because I felt like it." Mala continued to trudge through the forest at her quick pace, not worrying about Aribeth being able to keep up.

"Mala would you please stop and talk to me."

Mala gritted her teeth, everything about Aribeth seemed to grate her, the serene beauty of her half elven face, the delicate song of her nobility accented voice, they way she carried herself calm and aloof in any circumstance, her do-gooder paladin nature and most of all, more than anything Aribeth's constant unshaking faith in Tyr drove Mala mad. Even though she had only thought about the wounded god Mala still spit to get the imagined taste out of her mouth. "No."

"Mala...," Aribeth's protest died in her mouth when she pushed a branch aside and nearly ran into her jailer. Mala's eyes were slits and the slight upturn of her lip exposed a fang. Mala's right hand lashed out and grabbed hold of her collar dragging the fallen paladin right into her face.

"What part of no are you having trouble comprehending?" Mala continued to glare at Aribeth, well inside what even the most jovial Halfling would consider their personal space and when Aribeth said nothing Mala started off again. "Now be quiet and follow, we're almost there."

There was significantly less impressive then Aribeth had expected. In fact there was just a big tree. Aribeth was about to question Mala about it when the half-elf dragon-half knelt beside it and a large section of the trunk disappeared to reveal an empty space that took up the entire base of the tree. Inside was a mound of glittering objects that would have done Mala's ancestors proud. Crowns, jewels, knives, swords and armor sat on piles of gold pieces and trinkets. Aribeth thought she saw several rubies and diamonds the size of a child's fist in the back of the pile before Mala leaned in and started to pull things out.

The first few objects that Mala removed were nondescript, some boots, a belt, a few rings and other trinkets and then Mala threw something out that Aribeth had never thought she'd see again, her breastplate, her blackguard breastplate. What had been gleaming silver when she had been a paladin of Tyr was now stained an oily black by a combination of blood and ichors. All the sigil's of her god had been scrapped and scratched off and at the time she'd been proud of the loss now she was ashamed. Pauldrons and greaves, vambraces and even the grommet followed, all black, and all scrapped free of any traces of her god's symbol. Mala never looked back; she just tossed out a few more odds and ends including shield and a chain mail suit before climbing back out of the hollow with a sword in her hands.

"What?" she asked in confusion when she saw Aribeth standing over the armor with tears very nearly in her eyes.

"Why do you have this?"

"You're not the only bit of compensation I took out of Nasher, just the part I told him about. Besides, it's yours isn't it, you're no use to me walking around in a robe."

"I can't."

Mala was truly confused. "What do you mean you can't?"

"I can't wear this....it's tainted."

"For the love of the...," Mala kicked the breastplate of Aribeth's armor out of her way and dove into the hollow again, this time emerging with a simpler suit of armor and two small packs.

"Get dressed and help me out." Aribeth set to putting the armor on while Mala started to scoop out the contents of the tree into the bag she was holding. When she picked up the chain mail hauberk she thought she'd missed and picked up a shirt or the like. The hauberk weighed almost nothing.

"Mala, what is this made of?" she asked as she turned the hauberk over in her hands, the links shining slivery white.

"Mithril I think; and some adamantium. It's been a while since I found it. The rest of the suit's made out of it too. Not as good as dragon scale," she thumped the black and red chest of her own armor, "but it's still pretty good."

Pretty good didn't quite convey the quality of the gift that Mala had tossed at her feet. Even an ounce or two of adamantium alloyed with the steel for a sword or suit of armor could turn it from a normal weapon into one that would cleave full plate with a single blow. The dwarves were always loathe to part with their precious mithril and Aribeth had never heard of enough of it ever being assembled in one place by a non-dwarf to even make a ring, much less a full suit of armor. Lord Nasher himself didn't have a suit of armor as good as the one at her feet and if she ever sold it she could probably buy the whole of the Blacklake district with the proceeds.

Aribeth started to lean over to pull the hauberk over her head but she stopped when the golden collar around her neck bit into the soft skin of her neck. She looked down at the hauberk and then to the pile of armor before her, a sword lying atop the pile. Donning the armor had felt so normal, so right that she hadn't even stopped to consider the implications.

Mala was still shoveling handfuls of her treasure into what had to be a bag of holding when Aribeth asked. "Are you really going to give your slave a weapon?"

Mala didn't bother to look up from her task; she just tied off the top of one sack and picked up a new one. "You're no use to me without a weapon."

"How do you know I won't simply kill you with it and free myself?"

"You won't."

"How sure are you of that?"

Mala dropped the handful of gold pieces she had in her hand into the bag and swiftly stood up and turned towards Aribeth. She reached back over her left shoulder and drew the large claymore from its sheath that she kept strapped across her back with her off hand. Mala easily flipped the sword over in her hand grasping it at the base of the blade where the metal hadn't been given an edge and offering it to Aribeth. "Go ahead, prove me wrong."

The sword itself was the size of a greatsword; it looked like a longsword that had been stretched out to almost two meters. She could feel an aura emanating from the weapon as her hand slowly reached out for the hilt. Where the blade laid across Mala's palm she would see frost starting to form and small sparks dancing around the blade. As her fingers wrapped around the grip a chill passed through Aribeth's body. The sword itself weighed easily what a normal greatsword did, maybe even more but she had seen Mala swing it like a katana when she had fought. She brought the blade up in front of her, holding onto it with two hands and watching as the sparks chased themselves up the blade.

"Well?"

Aribeth drug her eyes away from the blade to look at Mala. The half-elf had brushed all of her purple hair to one side and was leaning her head to the side, baring her throat. Mala's eyes were locked on hers and the self-satisfied sadistic smile she usually wore was upon her face.

"What are you waiting for," Mala said, her voice full of false sweetness, "I'm evil, you're a paladin, I'm your master, you're my slave, strike me down."

Aribeth hesitated, it would be so simple, just a flick of the wrists and Mala would be dead yet she couldn't do it. Her world was black and white, right and wrong, good and evil, but here in front of her was someone who refused to be categorized. Mala was evil, Aribeth could feel it rolling off of her like a mist, it hung around the dragon-half like a cloak, but she'd been capable of such acts of kindness. One of the first things that she had done after retrieving the cure for Neverwinter was to demand a dose of it, a dose she took to a dying courtesan along with a thousand gold coins so that she could start over. In the middle of the battle for the city she had heard of Mala escorting a small child back to the city center to be safe only to turn on a Luskan patrol and literally rip them apart with her bare hands with a sadistic glee. Then there was the fact that it was Mala who had saved the city, mercenary or not she had saved the city, several times, 'Including once from me,' Aribeth thought.

As she lowered the sword and offered it back to Mala she knew the real reason she couldn't harm Mala, this was her punishment. Tyr had seen fit to stay the executioner's hand and deliver her to Mala and it was not her place to try and set things "right" in her own mind. If Tyr wanted her to be a slave she would be the best slave she could be, and perhaps, perhaps Tyr had put her with Mala to try and tame the mercenary, to turn her from the path she was on.

Mala's right hand dropped to the sword that sat low in the middle of her back, ripping the heavy falchion from its scabbard and sending it screaming for Aribeth's neck. The thick blade stopped before it connected but Aribeth could feel the heat radiating from the molten looking blade on her neck, it took all her will power not to pull away from the sword. "Meekness is a fine quality in a thrall, but it does not suit you." As quickly as it had emerged the falchion was back in its sheath. "If you need it to make sense then swear to me by Tyr that you will not harm me so that I may trust you with a sword."

Aribeth's gaze went cold as she stared at Mala. "You don't believe in Tyr or any other god, you profane all their names, why would my oath me anything to you?"

Again Mala gave Aribeth her most sinister smile. "I may not believe in your gods, but you do, and if you swear on Tyr's name I know that you won't so much as scratch me. I have no faith in them you see, but I do have a measure of faith in you."

"On Tyr's name I swear to never take up arms against you," Aribeth swore tersely.

"Excellent," Mala purred. "Now hurry up and get dressed, we need to leave as quickly as possible."

Aribeth did as she was told and started to don the armor Mala had given her while the demoness went back to loading up her horde.

"Why don't you believe in the gods, what have they ever done to you to make you hate them so?"

"Absolutely nothing."

"Then why..."

"Because, they've done nothing for me, ever. For good or ill. Everything I have or I've done has been by the sweat of my own brow."

Aribeth's voice took on the teaching tone she often used when she had instructed many new paladins. "There have been many times I'm sure where the gods have blessed you or aided you."

Mala pulled her head out of the tree to look at Aribeth. "Really? My parents were killed by a drunken thief when I was still a child; their throats were slit right in front of me. The thief? He escaped justice because he was the province's regent's son. His accomplices were executed but he was just put under house arrest for a few months. From there I spent the rest of my tender years with an aunt who saw me as nothing but an inconvenience and occasional free labor. When I was sixteen I was sold to a wizard who wanted to do a few experiments on someone with dragon blood in them, apparently I'm worth five hundred gold pieces. I spent a year with that mad man being subjected to constant torture, tests and experiments being degraded in ways you can't imagine." Mala took a moment to enjoy the look on Aribeth's face before pressing on.

"Some good did come of it I suppose; I did learn how to use many of my powers while in his...care. The end was quite enjoyable really, watching him die beneath me as I ripped his still beating heart from his chest." Mala's eyes had drifted from Aribeth's as she recalled her tormentor's demise, they came back to the paladin's as she told her, "It took some doing, ribs are stronger then you'd think."

"I went back to my aunt's farm, I was going to kill her but the bitch had left for another town and I was too impatient to wait for her, maybe it was mercy. I burned her house, her barn and all her crops to the ground. I was impatient to pay the regent a visit. In the decade since he'd murdered my family the bastard's father had died and he had become regent. It took some doing to get to him but I did. It's funny, the whole time I was cutting him apart he kept whimpering about how sorry he was, pathetic really."

"Your powers are given to you by the gods."

"My powers are a result of some horny red dragon a hundred years ago thinking my great grandmother looked good for something besides eating. I pray to no god for my abilities, I give none praise," Mala snorted, "There are perhaps three I don't curse. Your gods care nothing for us; they are too busy with each other to bother so I don't bother with them. And this is yours."

Aribeth's reflexes had not been dimmed in the least and she easily plucked the small metal token out of the air. Mala had already turned back to her horde when Aribeth turned it over to see what it was. Pitted, chipped and dented around the edges but its interior untouched the emblem in her hand had been ripped from her armor in the Brotherhood's tower in Luskan. The sigil of Tyr had suffered from her clumsy attempts to remove it but she could still feel the purity and goodness in it. "Thank you," Aribeth whispered.

"You're welcome, just touching that thing makes me nauseous I'm happy to be rid of it. Now get dressed already, we've got things to do."

*******************************

Aribeth awoke with a start. She glanced around confused, trying to figure out why she woke up in a sweat but she found no answers in the dark trees that surrounded her. She took several deep calming breaths to get a hold of herself but she couldn't shake the feeling that something powerful was nearby, whatever it was wasn't evil per say, but it wasn't good either, and whatever it was was powerful. When scanned their small campsite again Aribeth realized that Mala wasn't on her pallet.

Even wearing a suit of full plate armor Aribeth's elven blood still allowed her to move quietly through the brush as she tracked down the source of the feelings she was getting, and most likely her absent master as well. Aribeth passed off the pleasurable shiver that ran through her as a leaf brushing against her face.

Very quickly Aribeth heard Mala's voice and she dropped down, sneaking forward until she could just see the dragon-half reclining against a tree with her arms across her chest. Mala's usual scowl was on her pretty face but it had none of its usual defiance.

"...you told me..." Aribeth could just hear Mala say but the girl stopped in mid sentence and waited.

"But you said that it would be a waste if she died and ....oh."

'Who is she talking too?' Aribeth wondered.

***********

"Precisely my dear, I only said it would be a waste if you allowed her to die, I never said anything about you making her your slave and bringing her along with you."

The knowing smile of her mistress liked to drive Mala insane, or just more insane; it depended on whom you talked too. Still she was right.

"I must confess, I was surprised at what you did but it does seem to have worked out for the best. My brother is already wondering what has befallen his wayward servant." Tokimi chuckled to herself as Mala's face scrunched up in disgust. "At first he was most incensed that Aribeth had escaped her punishment and it took quite a lot of talking to convince him not to kill Nasher right on the spot and come looking for you but I managed to convince him to stay his hand. It would appear that he agrees with Nasher's assessment of what her life would be like with you but he wants to know if she might yet redeem you."

"HA!" Mala's scorn filled laugh cut through the silence of the night. "Reform me, ha. Bad company corrupts good morals."

"So you intend to turn her back to the ways of a blackguard?"

Mala never knew if her mistress was joking with her. "Maybe, she's insufferable the way she is now."

"Well then you are off to a poor start." Tokimi said. Mala clamped her mouth shut and just glared at her. Tokimi was well aware of the interloper observing their conversation and she began to let her cloak of invisibility expand, slowly growing to include the paladin in the bushes and letting her see and hear her. "Tell me, have you lain with her yet?"

Mala's eyes flew open as wide as they could and her mouth did too. "What!?"

"Well she is young and attractive and outside of the Illithid that seems to be one of the more common uses for slave girls."

"She thought she was in love with a man," Mala snarled.

"I fail to see who that makes any difference, and as you say, she thought she was." Mala just stared at the ground and fumed while Tokimi smiled, her adopted daughter was nothing if not amusing. "I could make her more compliant."

"No!" Mala snapped, when her mistress raised a questioning eyebrow Mala explained, "I don't want her changed in any way, please."

"Very well, so long as she doesn't hinder your performance I don't care what you do with her."

"Yes Mistress," Mala said with head bowed.

****************

Aribeth watched as the mysterious woman glided over the ground, her skirts moved like she was walking but nothing of her touched the grass. The faint reddish white aura that surrounded her brushed up against and then enveloped Mala in its wispy glow like smoke surrounding her. The spirit's brown, black, and red robes fluttered in an unseen breeze as her hands brushed across Mala's cheeks. When her lips kissed Mala on the forehead the fighter sagged into it. She started to rub her cheeks against the woman's hands of her own accord and for the first time Aribeth saw Mala smile, not the leering grin or mirthless taunt she usually gave people, but a genuinely happy and content smile.

Whatever it was that the woman said was lost on Aribeth but the result wasn't. Mala gasped as the meter long wings on her back suddenly tripled in size, she arched back and pulled away from the empyreal woman. Her hands were next, the strong delicate digits thickening tremendously, the nails growing into fifteen centimeter hooked talons and all the skin from the middle of her forearm down turning to fine red scales. Then came her legs, the boots on her feet and the armor on her legs melting away as her feet lengthened and she stood on just the ball of her feet like a teifling, or a real dragon. It also looked to Aribeth like Mala's horns had gotten bigger, her pointed ears longer, and when she turned her back to her for a moment Aribeth saw that Mala was now sporting a long thick red tail. Mala fell back against the tree panting and shuddering, her questioning eyes locked on the woman in front of her.

"You did well in Neverwinter, you deserved a reward."

Mala brought her hand up in front of her face and flexed her new claws.

"Normally it would take you decades to get this far, I just hurried things up."

"I...I...," Mala tried to find something to say to the woman but failed.

"Do not worry, you can change back to your normal appearance with a thought."

At that Mala again focused on her claws and a second later it morphed back into her normal hand. Her legs lost their extra joint, her tail slithered back up under her armor and her wings shrunk until they were just the size of a lady's fan. Aribeth hadn't realized show tense she had been until she relaxed as Mala returned to semi-normal. Nasher had referred to her as a demoness and Aribeth hadn't really seen it until just now.

"Tha..thank you," Mala stuttered, "It's incredible, wonderful."

The spirit smiled at Mala and said, "You did well, and now I have something more for you to do."

"Yes mistress?"

"Go to Waterdeep and seek a man named Durnan."

"Is that all my lady?"

"Yes," the woman answered. "That is all you need to know for I know that you will handle things appropriately, you always have."

"Yes Mistress."

The ethereal woman started to fade from sight. "Now get some rest, you have a long way to go and not much time."

Aribeth hurried back to their small camp and laid down before Mala could return.

**************

The next morning Mala wasted little time in moving out. With only the quick declaration that they were going to Waterdeep they packed everything up and headed off. While Aribeth had already known where they were headed she was intrigued, Waterdeep had been the source of the creatures that had been used to make the antidote to the Wailing Death and a major part of the Lord's Alliance. The city of Waterdeep had almost as much to do with Neverwinter's survival as Mala did.

Thousands of Waterdhavian soldiers had also died at the hands of her Luskan army.

Waterdeep itself was an enormous city, easily dwarfing Neverwinter. Her home city could have easily fit within one of Waterdeep's boroughs with room to spare. The city had gotten so large because it sat on such a prime piece of real estate. While you could take a ship up the coast to Neverwinter if you wanted to send anything north of the Clouded Mountains by land you had to pass through Waterdeep. It took merchants following the roads two weeks to get to Waterdeep from Neverwinter, by cutting across country like they were they could cut a few kilometers from their trip and given the pace Mala was setting Aribeth figured that they might make it in ten days or less.

Thoughts of the pace Mala was setting started something nagging in the back of Aribeth's mind but she couldn't put a finger on what it was. It was only when Mala declared that they were stopping for lunch that Aribeth realized what the nagging thought was, they had been jogging along for hours and she wasn't the least bit winded, if anything she felt even more energized then when she had woken up.

"Chain mail of speed."

Aribeth looked over at Mala.

"The chain mail, it's enchanted. It's like drinking a potion of haste every few minutes, you can run and run and never get tired."

"Anything else I should know about?" Aribeth asked.

Mala gave her a sly smile, "Nothing else comes to mind."

Aribeth knew Mala was leaving something out, probably something important, but she didn't press the issue. It was unlikely that any of the equipment Mala had given her was just plain adventurers gear but she had never bothered to learn much about spell craft or lore so she wasn't able to figure out what was different about what had been given to her.

When they started to eat Aribeth watched Mala out of the corner of her eye. The half-dragon ate quickly; she didn't inhale the food in a messy conflagration like some adventurers Aribeth had seen. She would rip off a chunk of bread or meat chew rapidly and swallow. No conversation, and not even a breather between bites. Mala was only interested in getting fuel back into her body and nothing else and she finished before Aribeth was two thirds done.

While Aribeth finished her meal Mala contemplated the task her Mistress had given to her, go to Waterdeep, and find Durnan. It sounded simple, but her last task had been anything but. 'Still, didn't turn out too badly,' she thought as she looked at Aribeth. The instructions were also frustratingly vague, but they were still more detailed then the last set she'd received, 'Go to Neverwinter.' Not knowing exactly what was expected of her made her nervous, extremely nervous, even knowing that her Mistress trusted her judgment Mala couldn't be entirely at ease with her instructions. 'Kiori would know what to do,' she thought. 'I wonder how the others are doing anyway.'

After lunch they were back up and moving, Mala setting a furious pace and Aribeth following. The difference was that now Aribeth was enjoying herself, before lunch she had been worried about how she was going to be able to keep up with Mala but now, knowing that her armor was hasting her; she loped along behind Mala without a worry. In fact when Mala led them out of the forest for a bit to cross a farm Aribeth felt better then she had in a long time. After more then a year locked behind city walls or marching with an army Aribeth's elf blood was singing for joy at being out in nature again without a care. Aribeth's joy was short lived however. As Mala jogged down a fence that separated the farmer's house from the field they were in a small child caught Aribeth's eye.

The boy was nothing special, just your average farmer's son, blond hair, work clothes, a little dirty. He was just out playing in the yard with the family's dog, having some fun between chores, but he ripped Aribeth's heart from her chest. The little boy reminded her of someone, the last person she had thought she'd ever see. That boy had been about ten, just like this one, blonde hair and all, but that boy hadn't looked so good, he'd been drawn and haggard, a kind of tired like she'd only seen in soldiers that had been to war too many times and seen to many friends die. His eyes had been dull and sunken, his clothes torn and dirty, his body covered in a layer of grime that only time would remove and scratches and scars that would stay with him forever. The boy had sat atop a man's shoulders, father, uncle, random person in the crowd she didn't know, but he had been there to watch her die, to watch the person who had brought that suffering on him to pay for her crimes. After seeing him she had closed her eyes and laid her neck on the chopping block. She didn't want to go to her death with his image in her mind's eye, but she knew she had too; she had to go to Tyr facing what she had done. But it hadn't happened.

Angry, grateful, loathing, thanking, Aribeth had no clue how she should feel about Mala and what she had done but Aribeth knew that she would never get that boy out of her mind, and she hoped she never did.

*******************************

Omake

"Oh no, do not start that angsty shit."

"Why not? She's just been through a tremendous trauma of course she's going to be emotional."

"I do not want to listen to more of your self righteous whining!"

Ayeka coiled up at Ryoko's accusation. "If you can make your character a dyke I don't see how you can complain about Aribeth getting a little emotional!"

"If not for my dyke your moody bitch would be dead!"

The pink eyed girl at the end of the table cleared her throat. "Ahem..."

Ayeka turned to her sister, "Why in Faerun did you let her do that?!"

Tsusami smiled sheepishly and answered in her echoy voice, "I didn't like the way the module ended."

"Why are we even playing this anyways?" Ryoko asked.

"My sister said it would be fun," Tsusami said.

"I most certainly did not!"

The high pitched melodic part of Tsusami's voice cut out leaving only the rich timbre of the goddess sharing her body to speak. "My sister."

"Jeez Ayeka it's been what...six months now? Get with the program."

"Well she didn't used to be two people!"

"Whatever, just be happy my dyke saved your bitch or we'd still be sitting around waiting for you to roll up another paladin, would it kill you to play something else sometime?"

"Well unlike you not everyone is evil."

"Hey!"

"So, when can we get back to playing?"

Tsusami, her voice back to its normal echo, answered the girl at the doorway, "In a little while Minagi; I've got a good part for you, Drow Assassin/Wizard."

"Cool!" Ryoko's twin/daughter cheered.

"What about me?"

"Oh hell no," Ryoko said as she considered her former partner at Minagi's side, "the last time you played you played as a freaking Halfling berserker/monk."

"That's not nice," Ryo-ohki scolded.

"Hey, you picked it."

"Can we focus?" Tsusami demanded.

"Since when does liking women play a part in D&D," Ayeka demanded of her former rival.

"Since I started playing," Ryoko smirked sending the two of them into a downward spiraling argument.

"Still think Tokimi had a good idea?" Washu asked.

Tsusami turned around to see Washu behind her. "Not really; and where is she? She's supposed to be down here playing."

"She said something about working on her tan and grabbed Mihoshi and Tenchi a while ago; I don't think they'll be back anytime soon," Washu grinned, "or any tanner."

Tsusami rolled her eyes, "Would it kill her to do it inside once in a while?"

The house's final two residents finally came into the very crowded kitchen. "Ahhh! What is all this noise?" Misaki demanded.

"They're having an argument about if Mala can be gay and Aribeth can be a whiny bitch," Tsusami told her exasperatedly.

Funaho frowned and grabbed up some of the dice behind Tsusami's screen, give them a quick flick across the table and declaring before they even stopped rolling, "It would appear that the reanimated bones of Klauth have come seeking revenge, the dracolich has landed on the farmhouse crushing it to dust."

"What!?" Ryoko and Ayeka demanded in unison, their ears drawn to the sound of the dice. When Ryoko processed Funaho's words she burst out laughing raucously.

Funaho pretended to roll the dice again. "Oh, and his first attack hit's Mala sending her flying through the air like a rag doll."

Now it was Ayeka's turn to laugh but it ended quickly as both girls set about planning what buffs they would need before getting down to slaying the undead dragon.

"Problem solved," Funaho declared and she left pulling Misaki along who latched onto to Ryo-ohki in passing who grabbed Minagi to avoid being taken where she knew they were going alone.

"Have fun," Washu said as she patted Tsusami on the shoulder. "Got anything good for me?" she whispered.

Tsusami nodded, "Yep, Halaster and a demi-lich."

"Good deal."

"Oh, and tell Tokimi to get in here if you see her, she's supposed to play the Valsharess."

========================================================= ===

Author's Notes

Acknowledgements:

The freaks on my LJ who just kept reading this.

Notes:

1) I'm not explaining any of this so don't ask. Go buy a copy of NWN.

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