Forgotten Realms Fan Fiction ❯ The Fateful Coin ❯ Chapter 4: Winds Blow, A chance meeting ( Chapter 4 )

 

Disclaimer:

I do not own Faerun or Toril...

I DO own Anashra, Thalen, and all the other original characters in this story.

I also own the plot to this story!

Chapter 4:

Wind Blows, A Chance Meeting

 

Thalen awoke screaming, his body shivering and covered in a cold sweat. The

dreams had come again. He sat up, and put his head in his hands, as he remembered

the dreams...

 

He saw him, his father valiant and brave, trying to defend his family but to no avail.

Thyoris priest of Helm fought viciously against the bandits, he knew he could not

win; and that his death was nigh but he'd be damned if they were going to get anywhere

near his wife and five year old son, Thalen. Thyoris took a hit, and then another; swung

out with his mace and heard a satisfying crack as it connected with bandit skull. The thug

went down hard and did not stir again; but Thyoris had far more important things on his

mind like the other five ruffians circling him. He lunged, giving the bandit facing him a

new orifice in the side of his head, as he did so the other bandits attacked him from all

side, scoring him with their wicked blades. In desperation, he cried out to Helm, knowing

that his death would keep his family safe. Helm responded to his cleric, granting him

relief from the pain and allowing him to kill the remaining thugs. Thyoris staggered over

to his wife Kayless fell on his knees; into her arms and died with a smile upon his lips.

Thalen stood by his mother and watched the caravan burn all around him knew that his

father was dead; he had seen death before. He stood and watched helpless and he did not

cry; tears were useless here and tears could not help his father. He took his mothers

hand it was time to go. Kayless looked up at her only son, the light in her eyes was gone,

burned out and replaced by determination that her son would live even if she did not care

to. She got up, managed to find a half dead horse and put her son on it's back. She then

took the reigns and headed down the road to the city of Calimport...

 

Thalen sat by his campfire and thought of the past and his long dead mother,

Kayless. She had sacrificed so much for him, her beauty, and her soul and in the

end her life. She had become a consort to men, so that she could put food on the

table and wood in fire. His quite, dignified, beautiful mother; once so full of joy and life had become a hollow shell of the person she once was. He had been barely six years old when she had died, perished from the wasting disease that one of her clients had given to her. He had watched her die, slowly, painfully until the disease had consumed her. With no way to pay for their rented little shack, Thalen had found himself out on the streets of Calimport. Alone, starving and having only the rats and the roaches for company. He had lived off the garbage, had eaten rancid food that the other urchins would not touch; and had slept in the darkest, filthiest places imaginable. At least he had until Gaherin found him. Gaherin was a master thief, and he took Thalen under his wing and taught him everything he knew. Thus, Thalen Nightshift had become a thief.

 

His mind drifted back to the dreams, they had haunted him all of his life; but now he had new nightmares to deal with. Only these nightmares followed him upon waking into reality, the reality of being a werewolf. It had been a month since his first change, the wounds he had faded into faint scars. The scars reminded him that he was not just dreaming that it was all too real. He shook his head, the memories were nearly as unpleasant as the dreams; thinking about them brought a chill that ran down his back along his spine. He looked up at the night sky, the moon was just a thin sliver, he had never thought he have a good reason to give a damn about how full the moon was. Now he did, and the reason was that the moon was his enemy. Just looking at the thing pissed him off; and he wanted to curse Selune and all her followers to the darkest depths of the abyss. He did not; he had enough to deal with without ticking off the moon goddess. Like the fact, he now had a pair of venomous fangs that got quite large when he transformed. Thalen sighed, he knew he to at least make a vague attempt to return to sleep; he still had two days travel ahead. More if he could not find this Lei'tai. He lay down and settled into a state somewhere between sleep and consciousness.

 

Hours later, and dawn was just barely breaking. He was still tired, but he always felt tired these days since becoming a werewolf. The feeling seeped into his soul and his bones and settled there, hard and unyielding. There was a stiff soreness between his shoulders a knot of discomfort that grew with each change. He had begun to notice a difference in the way he sensed things, as if smells were a bit sharper, sounds a bit clearer. Thalen gave up on sleep and got in to a sitting position. He had made this area his camp for about a week after his change. He had been too weak to do anything else and he had needed to recover before continuing on his way. The campsite was not too bad. The woods surrounded the place for several miles, there was a small lake with a waterfall, and it was only a brisk hike away. Thalen groaned, and cursed. He had slept on one of his daggers again, and now he had several welts. He stood up and nearly fell in the process. Bloody hell he thought, I am still weak from the change. He looked at his trousers in distaste they were beyond filthy. His clothing needed to be washed badly; it was covered in dirt, blood, leaves, slime, drool, and bits of twigs. Thalen needed to bathe quite possibly even more than he needed to wash his clothes. His hair was matted and it hung in thick, greasy, knotted, grimy clumps around his face. A thick layer of sweat, blood, and dirt coated his entire body like a second skin. Worse, he simply reeked of unwashed flesh. The mere fact that he could smell himself was what repulsed him the most. He smelled like a bloody troll's chamber pot. He had not smelled this bad since he was a street rat in Calimport. Thalen's mind was made up, come the abyss or hell's fire he was going to get a bath. He got to his feet, banked the fire; and buckled on Nightshade. He turned towards the lake and started walking; he could not wait to be clean again.

 

 

Anashra was tired; she was tired of running from her fear. It had consumed her in the days following her departure from the only home she had ever known. She tried hard to fight it but as the new moon approached; so did the danger that came with it. She felt like she was watched with every step she took, and she kept looking over her shoulder to see if anyone was there. There never was, but she could not put the feeling aside and pressed on. Anashra inhaled, and caught the sent of water, running water. A grin spread across her face, she would be able to bathe for the first time in three days. She began to walk faster toward the sent of the water, eager to rid herself of the itchy, sticky, and gritty feeling that the last few days of travel had made worse. Anashra could hear the water falling down now, and she began to run. She could she the waterfall now, and it was beautiful. Mist floated overhead and all around the small but deep looking pool. Anashra could not stand being dirty one more second, and started to strip right where she stood. Now completely in the buff, she drew her short sword and waded into the cold clear water. If any beasties lived in the pool then she would not be defenseless. She let out a small grasp, the water was very cold; but she had bathed in colder water before. She started to scrub all over, she did not have any soap; but it was better than nothing. Anashra began the laborious task of washing her long hair. That was the problem about having long hair, it was a pain to maintain; and it took forever to get it reasonably clean. She should really cut it soon, as much traveling as she was doing; she would never be able to keep it clean. She was nearly done with her frigid bath, when she caught a whiff of a powerful stench. Anashra slowly turned around looking for the source of the foul odor. She quickly discerned exactly what was offending her nose.

 

It was a man. There on the muddy bank stood the filthiest looking man she had ever seen. He looked completely surprised to see her, and to her annoyance; more than a bit interested. Ok, now she was mad. Anashra reached down picked up a few rock s and began to chuck them at his head. She began to yell at him in Elvish. “Yee! ¹ Le gwaur tithen huuu !² “Kela Dôl lost lîn Orch!” ³ She heard a loud THUNK as one of the river stones connected with his skull and he keeled over. Ah, Hell She had knocked him unconscious. She only wanted him to go way and stop leering at her. Anashra got out of the water grabbed her clothes and hurriedly got dressed. She was not about to talk to anyone while she was nude. Wrinkling her nose, she approached the man unconscious form. Oh, holy Selune did he smell. She checked and found a pulse, so far so good. What in the nine hells was she going to do with him? He was going to wake up in a very foul mood; and she could not leave him like this. She felt bad; from his appearance, the human had most likely wanted a bath. She had been so surprised by his sudden appearance that she had freaked out and attacked. Lei'tai would want her to watch over him until he regained consciousness. She sighed. She bound his hands and feet, and began to make camp. This was not going to be very pleasant. Anashra started to make dinner for two while she waited for the human to wake up....

 

Translation from Elvish:

“Yeek!”

“ You dirty little dog!”

3. “Go away you empty headed Orc!”

Note: I got the Elvish from two different websites, I am sure that I horribly garbled it. If any of my readers can correct my HORRID Elvish then please post a review with the corrections.