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Walking into Last Light Inn feels like entering the embrace of radiance itself, small wisps of glimmer seem to rain down inside emitting a soothing crackling sound. After her initial interrogation, Jaheira had sent the others upstairs to talk to Isobel and you had leaned over her map, taking in the precise notes she had about each sq meter of space up until the edge of the old town itself where it simply said “Do not cross!! Will be shadow food”.
Soon you noticed that she wasn’t staring at the map at all anymore, but peering interestingly at you. Scanning every inch of your body as if she were sizing you up for battle, thinking of where you would fit in the plans she had to take Moonrise. It was overwhelming and intense, suffocating even. After the trek you had to get here you didn’t have the energy to think into it much further. You glanced to the second floor and wondered how much longer it would take for the others to come back from seeing Isobel. At this point you wanted nothing more than to rest, curl up in your bed roll and sleep. It was impossible to tell how long you’d been up in this land without sun and your muscles ached more than they had since the beginning of your journey.
Tilting your head side to side you tried to stretch and shake away the feeling. There was still much to do. “There’s a room across from here with beds. Rest, we will need you for the battles to come.” you look up into her bright green eyes and see concern? Maybe. It was hard to read into her emotions in your current state.
Her face was much softer than when she had you bound with vines outside the building but still her voice carries the weight of a command. Even in her caring she is in charge. Above you comes a crash and a loud scream, ‘Isobel?’ You’re not sure of the clerics voice but the sound of swords unsheathing is unmistakably your party. You turn quickly towards the noise, your head swiveling up with a quick arc but before you can react a portion of the wood ceiling beam pins you, with a loud crash, into the floor.
Your vision blurs as large masses of what appear to be winged beasts descend from the now wide open roof, the soft light of Isobel’s protection giving them a glowing backlight. One lands on top of you- it’s claws digging into your leg- breaking skin and puncturing the flesh. It’s breath is icy and acrid smelling like that of a corpse as it hunches over you. You struggle against the beam but your arms cannot reach your sword or bow as it raises its claw to strike you. Terror overtakes you as you hold your breath waiting for the impact, cursing the sleepy feeling you allowed to weaken you and put you in this situation.
Overhead you hear a low, deep, growl something akin to a lion. Odd for such a being to make that noise you think and your curiosity causes you to risk to open your eyes. You see the fiend is being dragged backward by a large panther. Having dug into you initially it pulls large streaks of your leg with it as it goes, your cries of pain washed out by the sound of its harpy like calls.
Fiends and panthers, you think, not sure if this animal is friend or foe but decide it is at least friend for now. Two flaming fists lift the beam off of you as you shimmy upward, rising to your feet, as blood streams down your open wound. You gingerly put weight on it as you watch the Panther crunch down on the neck of the beast and sling it’s head back and forth to crack it forcefully before tossing it aside like an unwanted toy. Blood drips from its jowls as it turns its big eyes to the next fiend, launching with claws forward to pounce atop it.
From the other direction another hellspawn lands trying to attack while the panther is distracted with its prey.
Sneaky fuck.
The panther is making good work of your unwelcome visitors so having it alive would be best for now, especially with your leg so battered.
You lean back against the wall, relieving your leg of your weight as you draw an arrow into your oak bow pulling it taught to your cheek. The shaft sails with deadly precision and enters the back of its targets skull with a satisfying thunk. It falls over and twitches a final limp goodbye.
At least I wasn’t completely useless, you think.
Taking your eyes off the panther you look around to see if there are more animals in need, human or the like. Your eyes trail over where Jaheira had been standing some minutes before and you gasp. “Hey !” you ask the Fist nearest you “Where’s Jaheira??” He shrugs noncommittally as he begins to charge upstairs to check on Isobel instead, his sword outstretched and his armor clinking loudly as he goes. You take a moment to scan the room and forgetting the wound on your leg bend down to get a better view under some rubble. White hot pain blasts through your leg causing you to keel over onto all fours. The impact leaves deep cuts in your palms from the sharpened debris and your bow scatters across the floor out of reach.
Of course, you think, bad luck seems to be following me right now.
The panther locks eyes with you and you know from this position you look like prey, your training as a Ranger is telling you to look as big as possible.
Shit.
It’s yellowed eyes narrow as it lowers its head, blood and pieces of carcass dripping from its jowl. You try to raise your head, lift your body, something and only find another shooting pain to greet you. The panther opens its mouth moving closer to you quickly before dissolving into a radiant light.
You think you are seeing the light that proceeds death and close your eyes in acceptance. It had of course, been a high probability at this point anyway. What with shadow zombies, flying ghouls, undead godlike men, Githyanki warriors, a worm in your brain and now a very large panther was going to bring its jaws down over your skull. Not the way you expected to go but it might be the best option all things considered.
“Good shot on the lurker behind me! Must have been hard without your legs under you. Let me have a look at that wound.” Jaheira’s voice is warm and teasing and urges you to open your eyes. She’s there, kneeling near you, her hands aglow as she presses them into the deep wounds that trail down your leg. You feel the familiar washing sensation of healing magic, but the unfamiliar feel of her warm and surprisingly soft hands pressed against your leg. She smells of rain water, fir trees and at the moment blood. The lower half of her face is covered in so much blood and gore that even when she goes to wipe it with the back of her hand she is still stained with it’s touch.
Of course. She’s a druid. As a wood elf you are embarrassed at the misunderstanding but write it off as sleep delirium. Another day you’d have had your wits about you. Hell, tomorrow would be that day.
“It couldn’t keep its claws off me I guess.” You say sheepishly trying to eek a smile out and cut the tension from the closeness of your bodies. She takes the bait and gives a chuckle
“I’m sure they’re not the only one giving you that problem. There, that’s the best I can do. I’m afraid you’ll have a nice collection of scars from now on, but you’ll be back to running and bow shooting in no time.” She lets her hand linger on your thigh for a moment before standing and helping you to your feet. You admire the shining new scars that trail down your thigh and lean against her.
“I think they look quite good on me. What do you think?” She looks down and then up into your eyes.
“My opinion doesn’t matter in this case, ask someone else to inspect you, Cub.” She holds your arm tight as you both head up the stairs
“I am, far older than you, hatchling.” You toss the phrase at her in jest. “Plus you’re sure to give me an honest answer. It is your way, or your oath or something you Harpers believe in.”
She gives another full laugh tossing her head back and shaking you along with her. “Hatchling is it? I’ll go with High Harper from such a smart mouth. I have taken no oath to be truthful but no reason to lie either- they look good on you, great even. The mark of a true warrior. Next battle though, try to stay off your rear end for most of it. You let an old woman out fight you.”
As she speaks you notice a small piece of carcass that she missed hanging limply from her red soaked chin. You pause your steps, bringing her to a stop to look at you “Are you in pain?” She asks her eyes filled with concern looking down at your leg. You lift your free hand to the side of her chin and wipe it away with a soft touch, her face remains stoic but she blushes at the tips of her ears and pulls away.
Already poised to make a joke it seems she pokes at you a bit “With all this rubble around us you’re worried about a tiny bit of flesh? I make quite a mess in battle, if you are this picky you will be cleaning for days.” There is a pause and she mutters in an uncharacteristically soft voice “But I thank you.”