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The doors to the throne room open wide around her, the golden hue paints her face and causes her to almost glow. Lae’zel stands proud, one hand firmly pressed against the hilt of her blade the other holding the head of the false Prince Orpheus. She has done all that she has set out to do and today she will ascend.
Saamrel stands a bit behind her - letting her lead the way into the room when her patron whispers into her ear through her familiar. “Caution.” It is his way to say very little but he is not one to be overly involved in the dealings on mortals. She bids her familiar Quinn, a small Quasit, to wait outside the doors and points gently to her ears to let her know to listen. Quinn floats to the side in a small nook and begins to eat a piece of fruit lazily.
Lae’zel glances back in agitation - how could Saamrel keep her waiting on such a day? She is to be a knight with a silver sword, she is to be a general in Vlaakith’s army, today is not the day for Saamrel’s dawdling. Saamrel comes to stand at her side, her long robe lightly dragging on the floor as they approach the throne.
Today her otherness feels more prominent than ever, she is a Githyanki in what feels like name only, she was stolen at her birth and raised far from any Creche. To her - Vlaakith is a myth and a God like any other. This is Lae’zel’s dream, not hers she’s only here to give her lover support.
Lae’zel kneels harshly, slamming her knee into the ground and bows her head in one clean motion. Saamrel follows her lead albeit more gently and lowers her head as well. From this position she begins to smell rotting flesh - ‘meat?’ She thinks to herself or ‘death?’
“Caution” her patron’s voice reverberates against her skull, pulsing against her already crowded thoughts. ‘Are we under attack?’ She tries desperately to communicate with her patron - the great dragon Tovei. She needs more information on what to be looking for. ‘How could they be attacked this close to the undying queen?’
Vlaakith brings her sword down harshly to knight Lae’zel, stopping inches from her shoulder, causing Saamrel to flinch. The throne room is so dark it is hard to make out the others in it but she hears movement the scuffling of feet as if someone was injured or, no, it can’t be, the undead? She reaches out to Lae’zel with the tadpole but - it’s gone of course, she didn’t think she would miss having it. There’s no way to get her attention without causing a big show now.
“Shit.” She says out loud. It is a low and involuntary word that breaks the daunting silence surrounding them. Lae’zel turns her head confused and angry at her companions outburst. How dare she ruin - she sees the yellowed eyes behind Saamrel and the realization dawns on her at last. ‘Tsk'va’ She jumps back with all her strength from the kneeling position as Vlaakith’s blade comes down upon her again. Her momentary hesitation proves to be costly, the blade slices through the air where her neck had been and instead catches the left side of her face down into her wrist and takes her hand clean off. It plops to the floor in a splattering of blood, one of the undead lunges forward and grabs it, feasting upon the still warm flesh.
“Lae’zel - you are here to serve your Queen. Now, do not make this harder than it has to be. You will be a favored pet along with the extra that you have brought me.” Vlaakith rises and sees the look of fear in Lae’zel’s eyes. She relishes the feeling for a moment before commanding the undead to attack. “If she will not come quietly, that is fine. But she will become food for her Queen even if by force.” While Vlaakith speaks Saamrel downs a speed potion and pulls hastily at Lae’zel’s heavy breast plate.
“Z, my love, We must go! Here.” She pours a potion to stop the bleeding from her wrist, smoke rises from the wound and a thick acrid tar like substance sits in its place. Lae’zel looks at her with confused, wet eyes and nods. ‘Quinn open the door! Now!’ Saamrel tries to communicate to her familiar through the door, they should just be close enough.
“SLOW!” She casts the spell and they begin to run toward the closed door hoping Quinn can open it in time. They hear the slowed muffled footsteps behind them and know they’ve bought themselves some time. The throne room suddenly seems endless, each step leads to another as if they are almost running in place. As they are about to crash headlong into the door it creaks open just enough for them to shimmy their way through.
“Your spell won’t last much longer!” Lae’zel yells at her.
“I know, I know. Come close to me.” Saamrel grabs her by the waist and begins to pull at the weave “Come on, come on.” She teleports them as far away as she can see right as a diseased hand begins to close upon them. The hallway leads to a set of stairs and a platform where they hope to find a way out. “Caution.” Tovei urges again. ‘You’re very unhelpful today. Please give more information!’ Saamrel says to him with no response.
The stairs are hard on Lae’zel as she tries to balance a great sword with one arm and also get used to the uneven feel of her body. The undead Githyanki are catching up to them as they reach the outside landing platform. A large red dragon has already inhaled to blast them with a fireball before they can even get their bearings. Saamrel presses down to the ground and lifts up hoping this last minute spell saves them. The stone wall she was trying to conjure arrives in time to stop most of the fireball but leaves them both with deep burns across their left side.
“This can’t be happening! I think that is Quendos! We don’t have a way out now -can you hold on to me? We could fly to an asteroid and hide until we find a way out.” She swivels around quickly trying to find the nearest asteroid when a large black dragon lands near them. “That’s from Tovei! Get on. GIVE ME THAT!” She yanks the silver sword from Lae’zel and ties it quickly to her back. Lae’zel has trouble pulling herself up but is helped by the dragon’s tail and she is joined quickly by Saamrel “Hold on to me.” Lae’zel presses herself into Saamrel and wraps her right arm around her tightly. Quinn bursts out of the platform door holding papers and smiling maniacally. ‘Quinn, go home!’ She dismisses her familiar to safety and urges the dragon to fly with her heels. The undead horde piles out of the door nearest to them and begins to launch themselves in their direction. The dragon smashes its tail sending them flying in all directions before lifting them off to safety.
Lae’zel looks down at where her hand used to be and tears begin to stream down her face. They burn into the cut along the left side and into the burns that she has just acquired. She braces herself against Saamrel and screams. The sound barely seems believable as she pushes it out into the world, until the hoarseness catches her and her voice cracks and breaks from the force. They fly for hours, every so often looking over their shoulders at the disappearing sight of Vlaakith’s domain. Saamrel can feel Lae’zel’s grip weakening and grabs tightly to her arm. Eventually the dragon descends to a small, solitary asteroid with a star tinted pond.
Saamrel sets up camp and feeds the dragon, who gives her name as Akaith, before turning her attention to Lae’zel. She is sitting far from the others on a small flat stone, her head bowed into her arms and her sword cast down by her feet. Saamrel approaches her slowly, bringing a small basin of water and a cloth to wash her. She carefully cleans the wound on her face and applies thick cream to her burns. “You will have a scar, my love. We will be almost matching.” She said with a smile, which fades under the stony gaze that Lae’zel gives her. “Give me your left arm - I need to clean it.” She had been dreading this part but Z pushes the arm out in a robotic motion allowing Saamrel to clean the wound. It is perfectly flat the flesh cut with such force their is no jagged piece to trim and allow a stabilizer to attach to. She wraps it with leftover cloth from a pair of her old robes and kisses it softly. Lae’zel walks away from her without a word and sits at the edge of the pond, staring deeply into the unmoving surface. They repeat this several times over the next week with Lae’zel quietly accepting the healing sessions but never speaking, never eating and never sleeping.
“I can’t let you do this to yourself, Lae’zel. You have to keep living - you have to get it together so that we can move on. I will follow you, whatever comes next but you have to at least show that you want to face the next challenge.” Saamrel has both hands on her shoulders and is shaking her slightly. For the first time in a week Lae’zel looks up and says “I have not been sitting idle. I have been thinking.” She lifts the greatsword with the strength of just her right hand and slams the blade into the stone underneath about a foot.
“I will kill Vlaakith for all that she has taken from me.” Saamrel is shocked at the sudden sound of her voice but is proud at the conclusion she has reached “You will be the liberator of our people.” She reaches out to touch Lae’zel’s face but is rebuffed.
“No, not for my people but for myself. On this day, I, Lae’zel of Creche K’liir, protector of Saamrel, take this oath, to kill Vlaakith, all who bow to her and all who stand in my way. On my honor it will be so.” The sword in front of her glows bright with radiant light as she takes it with one hand the other becomes a sprectral mage hand and lifts it again into the sky before placing it firmly on her back. “Let us go - this place has given me renewed purpose, it has done it’s job.” She mounts Akaith in a single bound and reaches out with a mage hand for Saamrel who climbs on and buries herself into her lover’s armor, apprehensive.