Chapter Text
The sky above was blanketed in dark and stormy clouds that threatened to unleash a torrent at any moment. Thick and dark, they covered the sun enough that it made the morning feel more like evening and a sense of time hard to gather.
She stood on the edge of a cliff overlooking a long and winding road that led further into the forest. North was the road to Baldur’s Gate, south would lead further into the Storm Coast. East had been her destination, to a grove where Druids held closely guarded camps.
It was there that her goal resided. Whispers of a sorcerer she was tracking all pointed there. It should have been an easy trek from High Moor but there had been too many fights along the way and the half-elf had found herself more tired than she had been in years.
Tinessi was never one to back down from a challenge, however.
She scowled up at the sky. Normally, rain did not bother the warlock. She knew full well that the forest needed the rain as much as people needed the sun. The thought did little to alleviate the discomfort of her already damp leathers.
No, she did not dislike the rain. Rather, she disliked the overwhelming sense of wrong that seemed to be following her. She had a clear goal in mind, one she'd had for the past two years and one that seemed more achievable by the day.
However, looking out over that well traveled road, a voice whispered in her ear; You've missed your chance again, Ni Fae. They are not there.
Tinessi shook her head in an attempt to push the thought away. For two years, she'd been on the hunt to find a brother lost to her before she was even born. To reunite with the only family she felt she had left. For two years, she'd wandered across Faerûn in search of Tavares Ilphelkiir and only heard whispers of the talented violinist and sometimes mercenary.
Finally word had reached her of a Nautiloid crashing on the coast, of a half dead sorcerer slaughtering their way through the forest in search of something, of how they'd stopped at that druid grove so closely guarded and agreed to help a bunch of refugees fleeing after the descent of Elturel.
She only hoped that she hadn't missed her opportunity to reunite yet again.
Something crept along the edge of her senses. Years spent on her own had taught her to be aware of her surroundings, years spent around ruthless nobility allowing her to see threats that were otherwise hidden. The warlock pulled herself back into a bush and kept her eyes glued to the road.
Tieflings. Over two dozen men, women, and children walking down the road with packs slung over their shoulders. The travelers seemed to be in high spirits, their laughs carrying over the noise of the forest. Her eyes scanned over them, trying to gauge any threats among them.
The group was led by a tall man, horns curling back over light hair and he marched with a gait that reminded the half-elf of a soldier or paladin. One of them played a lute, the bard obviously not considering how the noise might attract danger. A couple holding hands and whispering to each other, giggling as they walked.
Half a dozen children or more were in tow, most looking unaccompanied. They were in the middle, flanked by a lighter skinned tiefling dressed in blacksmith garbs. Ahead of them, three more walked closely huddled together, joking with one another like kin would normally do. Tinessi watched one of the three closely, the woman with dark hair, as she playfully shoved at the man dressed in robes.
The warlock found herself smiling at the sight. She'd gone so long without that feeling of closeness with someone else. Never had she felt it with her actual family. It was why she so desperately sought out her brother. The hope that she might actually have someone out there who gave a damn that she merely existed.
Time seemed to freeze in between one heartbeat and the next. Her senses screamed that something was wrong, that she and the travelers were in danger.
A desperate and feral scream ripped through the merry noises of the tieflings. A sound that no coherent mouth could make. Her blood ran cold as she looked to the north and saw them.
"Ghouls," Tinessi breathed. There had to be a dozen, maybe more. At the head of the pack, a Death Shepard stood watch vigilantly. They shouldn't be so far south, she told herself. But it didn't change the fact that they were there.
Across the caravan, she heard the leader bellow out a warning to the rest of the group. She watched them draw weapons, crude swords and staves, obviously cobbled together artillery for refugees who'd had little time or coin to gain something better.
It hit her then that these were the tieflings fleeing Elturel. No longer behind the safe walls of the grove but rather finding their way to a new home.
You've missed your chance, my daughter. Do not waste your talents on devils. Your brother is so close but if they are here, they might slip further from your grasp.
The words echoing in her mind, a warning from a mother who had not bore her. The ever present voice of her patron guiding her to save herself as it always did.
There was no time to think. There was only time to embrace her instinct and act. Instincts honed from years of fighting for survival and watching others being ignored because of their positions in life.
Ignoring the scolding words of her patron, she embraced that instinct of survival, of kindness never shown to her in her childhood. She embraced the Weave despite it only being her home recently. It was easier to allow the magic to flow through her than to face down the enemy as herself. Weak, powerless Tinessi with nothing but a rapier and a head too full of doubts.
Leaping into action, the warlock misty stepped down from her perch on the cliff. She landed gracefully between an attacking ghoul and one of the tiefling children, rapier drawn and an eldritch blast at the ready. Pink light poured from her as the blast sent ghoul back and she whiped around to assess the situation.
"Are you alright?" Tinessi asked softly, the terrified eyes of the children staring up at her.
"Behind you!" One of the yelled and the half-elf spun just in time to hear an ear splitting shriek. She raised her rapier in defense but it was for nothing as red missiles whipped past her and into the beast. The ghoul was sent flying back, hitting the ground with a thud.
She turned again to see who had slung the spell, her eyes landing on the three tieflings from earlier. The dark haired woman held the side of her face, red blood staining her already red skin, while the man in the robes stood in front of her and the younger man. Further behind them were more children huddled together.
The mage looked terrified. Rightly so as he stared down the imposing figure of the Death Shepard. Its blank expression somehow conveyed malice, its sword pulled back and posed to strike. However, the tiefling didn't budge, planting his feet and willing forth his magic to protect those behind him.
For a moment, the half-elf stood there and watched, impressed by either his bravery or his stupidity in the face of the foe. Just for a second though before she unleashed a torrent of lightning at the monstrosity. The mage mirrored her movement, sending bolts of his own arcane energy at the Death Shepard and surrounding ghouls.
Tinessi allowed herself the briefest of smiles as she watched the display of magic but her brief joy was cut short as she caught something out of the corner of her eyes. The warlock lashed out with a thunderclap, missing one of the other tieflings by just a hair. Two of the ghouls buckled under its pressure just a few feet away from the bard. The blue skinned woman looked up at her with wide eyes before they turned their attention to sight behind her.
She whirled around again just in time to watch the Death Shepard’s sword come crashing down against the wood of the mage’s staff. The tiefling didn't look strong enough to hold off the blow for long, but it was long enough that the two behind him had a chance to hurry the children with them away from the altercation.
Anger was an emotion that Tinessi had found a home in over the years, something the half-elf wore like armor. Harsh looks and even harsher words came to her as easy as breathing. It had been the saving grace in many a fight and been the difference between life and death. Adrenaline fueled her where her skill could not. It was a familiar feeling, almost comforting at times.
But the anger she felt in that moment was different. As she watched the mage struggle to hold back the massive skeleton, watched as he protected those who she would later discover to be his kin, she knew it was not anger she felt. Anger did not drown out the sounds of her heavy breathing or dim her vision such as this did.
This was rage. Pure and unfiltered. The voice of her patron called to her, telling her to focus, telling her to not lose herself in the moment. Soft Elvish words fill her mind but the rage drowned out the noise, drowned out all noises. The temptation to strike down the creatures claimed her, restraint and thought flooding out to make room for it.
The wood of the staff began to splinter under the weight of the greatsword and the mage yelled at the others to run. Before the words could leave his mouth however, Tinessi slammed her foot into the Death Shepard’s side with all the strength she could muster. Caught off guard, it fell to the side with the force of her body, a strange screaming ripping its way through the thing.
The mage staggered back and Tinessi lifted her foot to slam against its skull. There was no time for it to react, its head snapping backwards onto the hard ground below it with a crunching noise. Her rapier slammed down into its chest over and over until the armor gave way to bones and cracked ribs.
Finally, she stopped herself when she noticed the bright blue light in its otherwise empty eye sockets had gone out. The creature laid dead at her feet, her anger still raging inside, and she took a moment to throw her braid over her shoulder. Her sword weighed heavy in her hand and the voice of her patron returned to scold her.
You are reckless, salen a’sum. Even if your performance rivals the greatest of shows, you risk yourself with these heedless displays.
It was then that Tinessi realized she was no longer thinking clearly. Her breath came out in sharp gasps, mouth crooked in a scowl, and bent over the dead Shepard. A small part of her was aware of the mage beside her, aware of the terror and confusion on his face. Of the malice so clearly on her own.
Another ghoul nearly caught them both in the brief moment of respite. Lips pulled back to bare her teeth, the warlock pulled her rapier back and sank the blade between its ribs. The scream which tore from its throat fueled her even further, basking in the sound as it made her heart race. It demanded more and she obliged, the blade pulled from its side and sunk back into it again, this time lower in the ghoul’s gut.
Again and again, the dark and nearly black blood coating her hands and turning her vision red. Part of her watched the mage turn aside, refocusing his attention on another ghoul not far off but her singular concern was the beast that had threatened her.
Eventually, the ghoul’s struggle weakened and then ceased, black eyes turning glassy. Another scolding from her patron, another glance at the mage to watch him sling a spell. She does not stop, only pauses long enough to ensure her rapier would not snap with the force of her lunges.
“Is everyone alright?” A stern voice finally pulled her out of her anger. The warlock turned back, pulling her sword from the now dead ghoul and still panting. She shifted as she stared down at the creature, only then taking notice of the sticky mess of gore which had splattered her torso and arms.
The warm embrace of rage drained from her, leaving only a hollow feeling in her chest. Again, she caught sight of the red skinned mage not far off. He comforted his siblings, checking over the woman for injuries. Their eyes met for just a few seconds and the look on his face was suddenly some unspoken warning to keep her distance.
“You’re not one of us,” a small tiefling child stood in front of the warlock, one eye covered by a bandage. She eyed the half-elf closely and Tinessi felt herself slowly come to realize that there were more eyes upon her. “Happy to be helped unless you’re here for something nefarious.”
“Mol, leave her be. She helped us,” the same stern voice scolded. The young tiefling girl rolled her eyes as the man stepped up to greet her. “Thank you for the assistance. I didn't expect much help from any passerby. I’m Zevlor.”
“I was just in the right place at the right time,” she laughed, though it was forced. “Tinessi.”
“Well met,” Zevlor extended his hand to shake. For a moment, the warlock hesitated but seeing his hands just as stained as her own, she firmly grasped his. “What places someone like yourself out here in the wilds alone?”
Tinessi paused for a moment, leery of his declaration of her isolation. Traveling alone was always risky business and stating your intentions an even riskier one. However, her insight told her that the tiefling was earnest in his kindness. If this group really were the refugees she had heard rumor of, they may know something of her brother.
“Passing through, actually. I was on my way to Emerald Grove. I’m looking for my brother,” she admitted, placing her rapier back on her hip. “They’re a sorcerer. Dark hair, green eyes, white scales on their face. Last I heard they had a violin strapped to their back.”
“Tavares?” Zevlor asked, looking her over again. “By the Hells, of course. You two look nearly the same.”
“You’ve met them?” Tinessi perked up, a warm feeling spreading through her chest at his comment. He knew her brother, and though the idea that they looked similar should not have been surprising, it still made her heart race. “Tell me, are they still in the grove?”
“Doubtful,” the tiefling answered and she felt herself deflate, “We were with them last night actually. From what I’ve gathered, the group they were traveling with all came from the Nautiloid crash. They were searching for a healer who might know something of Mindflayer parasites.”
“Why would they need to know about something like that?” The warlock scoffed, the idea incredulous. But the serious look on Zevlor’s face told her that he wasn't joking. “Are they alright? Do you know where they are?”
“They seemed fine last we saw them. Tavares welcomed us into their camp and we celebrated before we began this journey. I believe the druid Halsin was guiding them to Moonrise Towers,” he answered.
“Moonrise?” She balked at his response. Moonrise Towers was a cursed place deep within the Shadow-Cursed Lands. If Tav was venturing that far, they were certainly not fine.
“There’s a mountain pass not far from the bridge to Baldur’s Gate,” Zevlor mused for a moment. “You’re welcome to travel with us to make the journey easier for you. It shouldn't be more than a few days walk and we could use another sorcerer on our side. Especially one who seems as talented as you are.”
“Oh,” she blinked.
He had assumed she was a sorcerer like her brother. Good, she thought. No need to tell him that her magic was not her own, that her skills were attributed to an Archfey. People were often suspicious of warlocks, rightfully so in most cases. No one seemed to care that most Archfeys were not in league with the Fiend and certainly did not share their moral alignment.
“That would be wonderful. Thank you,” she finally responded.
“Great,” a hiss came from behind her and Tinessi watched as the mage came sauntering over with his siblings in tow. “Another Ilphelkiir to drag us down.”
“Ro, would you shut up for five seconds?” The woman bemoaned, earning a glare from the man. The gash on her forehead looked healed now, though by some lesser magic than should have been applied. “Don't mind him. He’s always like this. Thank you for helping us.”
“Of course! I just got lucky.”
“ We’re the lucky ones,” the younger man beside him said. “I’m Cal. This is Lia and Rolan. You’re Tavares’s sister? I don't think they ever mentioned you.”
“That’s not surprising,” Tinessi snorted. “We’re from a noble family in Baldur’s Gate but they probably don't like to mention that part seeing as they ran away before I was born.”
“Ilphelkiir’s Hermeticism, right?” Lia asked.
“The very same,” she replied, though the smile she wore was forced. The family business was a sore spot, her love of potions now a tainted passtime.
“Surprised a noble lady is willing to help lowly refugees,” Rolan rolled his eyes. Tinessi bristled slightly, though she did not allow the mage’s words to sour her mood. He had seen the way she’d attacked the Death Shepard and the ghoul, had seen the anger on her face and her delight at killing her foe. It was only natural that he be hesitant to accept her accompaniment. Only natural he see her as a threat.
Even now, Rolan stood between her and his siblings. His back straightened, posed and ready to defend them should her anger show itself again. The man was so defensive of them, and had been even more so during the fight. Everything about his demeanor screamed protector.
The thought crossed her mind that she longed for that kind of connection with someone else. Her childhood in Baldur’s Gate had been that of a single child, despite being second born. The warlock had struggled to make connections, her family distant and her social circle ill fitting for her personality.
She smiled at the tiefling, and was rewarded with a deep frown. Something about the mage was interesting, charming despite his prickly attitude. Watching him in the fight made her suddenly keen to know him. Anyone brave or foolish enough to take on a Death Shepard alone was someone she wanted to befriend.
Tinessi rarely knew friendship. Save for a few kind souls she’d come across in the past several years of travel, she couldn't remember the last time she had wanted to be friends with someone. Twenty-seven years of loneliness had eaten away at her social skills but something about the wizard made her want to try.
“I must have been feeling extra generous today,” Tinessi looked Rolan in the eye, not backing down from the glare he was giving her. “You should be more grateful, you silly man.”