Wicked - Oziah and Belladonna Narrative
Jun 14, 2021 13:11:00 GMT
Ghesh, Jaezred Vandree, and 3 more like this
Post by Oziah Daybreaker on Jun 14, 2021 13:11:00 GMT
Belladonna’s hazel eyes had lit up and a brilliant smile had spread across her face when Oziah asked to stay with her in the Witching Court for a week. She was not used to company, usually preferring solitude, but the sullen warrior had piqued her interest and the two had made an impressive fighting team in their recent battle against the Unseelie fey.
Oziah’s trademark scowl had only mellowed somewhat as the rest of the party had teleported back to the material plane - her piercing blue eyes now drinking in her surroundings with curiosity.
Belladonna smooths down her signature and voluminous white gown, studded with various crystals that contrast remarkably against her dark drow skin but matching the flawless white of her hair, as always neatly placed into an updo. She tilts her head, nodding to a corridor off to the side.
“This way.”
She leads Oziah back to her accomodation in the Witching Court; a simple cave decorated with as many fine things as Belladonna carried on her person. Her fox familiar, white as fresh snow, leaps gracefully from her shoulders to curl up on the bed, their blue eyes meeting Oziah’s own.
Belladonna gestures to two comfortable arm chairs.
“Please make yourself comfortable, my friend. Can I get you some tea? Or perhaps something stronger?”
Oziah tears her eyes away from the fox and nods. She methodically undoes a few clasps and unties her cloak, shedding parts of her splint and setting her nondescript sword and shield aside in a neat pile on the floor. Sinking down into the armchair she pushes her messy hair out of her face and closes her eyes briefly, seemingly enjoying the quiet.
“Do you have any gin?”
Belladonna smiles.
“But of course, what do you take me for! I managed to find a special kind brewed in the Witching Court. How does a martini sound?”
She reaches her hands into a small cabinet and pulls out two bottles followed by some elegant and almost impractically long stemmed glasses. A spectral greyish-blue mage hand reaches over to another table fetching other ingredients, olives, ice and such, but before she can mix the drink Oziah raises a pale hand.
“Neat, please. If you don’t mind.”
“No problem at all,” she says with a warm smile.
She sends the spectral hand to fetch a small and elegant crystal tumbler, pours a healthy measure in and hands it to Oziah. For her own drink, she adds the two liquids together with a puff of smoke as though brewing a potion like Lady Sunbane was trying to teach her the week before. She preferred the practical uses of magic, but the mixing skills required for potion making had significantly improved her martinis.
She utters a word in sylvan and her large white dress shimmers into a more comfortable flowing gown, one far less voluminous and much more practical for sitting.
“So, you want to know about the Witching Court?”
Oziah tracks her movements and gestures with an unreadable expression, sipping her drink quietly for a moment before replying.
“Impressive,” she says finally, not sounding very impressed. “But nothing compared to what you did on the field earlier. Something tells me your skill with the blade has nothing to do with the Witching Court. Are they teaching you anything more than parlour tricks?”
Her voice drips with her usual disdain but her eyes betray a genuine curiosity.
“What are they giving you? And more importantly, what are you giving them in return?”
“That is an interesting question…” She muses for a moment. “I have an unusual connection to the Feywild, when I was a little girl I stumbled into it and ever since then I’ve been blessed with natural magic.”
She stands, walking over to pet Fenris.
“The magic they have taught me here is already quite powerful. I have only been given a week of tutoring so far and I can already create illusions, make my blade boom with thunder and channel it to improve my muscles and make me able to leap incredibly far and create Fenris here.” She ruffles behind the ears of the fox. “They are incredibly useful gifts to have.”
She spins on an elegant white heeled boot, not visible before due to her floor length gown and her hazel eyes meet Oziah’s.
“Before I tell you about my arrangement and why I have skill with a blade, I would appreciate your discretion. If you share my story with others I will not be able to help those that I have promised to, and they are in need of help.”
Oziah raises an eyebrow at the mention of an arrangement but doesn’t remark upon it. She considers the woman before her - a formidable fighter and a true professional, a relief to work with after the many months of bumbling adventurers - and nods.
“Your secrets are safe with me. As I assume mine are with you.”
“Of course.”
Belladonna tops up her martini, holds the gin bottle in her mage hand offering some more for Oziah. Once comfortably seated, she starts her tale.
“When I was a little girl, I was born very poor. I did not have a noble house and my village's section of the Underdark was not going to become wealthy. So I learned how to survive and make money in other ways. My skill with a blade comes from the necessity of finding food and defending my village because we didn't have the money to pay anyone to do it for us.”
She sighs like a large weight has lifted from her.
“I created the House of Thorpe and have spent decades building it into a name that spoke of opulence, but, more importantly, philanthropy. I travelled throughout the Underdark and convinced the nobles, the matron mothers, whoever was in charge and hoarded more than they needed. By the time I was done talking to them they believed that Lolth saw great potential in the village and to assist in being a founder of it would make their name known throughout the Underdark, or that they would look good and Shar would smile upon them if they gave their money up. The gods didn’t care about the village, so I knew I had to become competent and make the changes myself.”
She takes a moment to breathe.
“Then I took their gold and gave it to the village. Seeing that the wealth these people had to just give away could get my home to a point where it could stand on its own two feet, I decided to do more. So I came to Kantas. My name does not have the same sway here so I am building it through adventuring. The Witching Court has given me a means to help more people.
I will bring them fools who are not content with the obscene wealth they have and are not prepared to do the work to achieve their goals and Nicnevin will grant their wish. There is always a price for cutting corners and the witches know how to use it to benefit their home, much like I did. So I will bring them fools and they will help me to help others.”
For a long moment, Oziah says nothing. She sips at her topped-up drink, taking Belladonna’s words.
“Well, you are right in one thing. The gods do not care about your village. They don’t care about anything but themselves.”
She doesn’t comment on Belladonna’s cause. Their alliance is still in its infancy and should Belladonna prove to be married to her morals she might take offence at Oziah’s lack of them.
“If your crusade is the secret you wish me to keep, fear not - I’ll still keep it. But you should know, I’m on the same path yet with a very different destination in mind.”
The blue in her eyes is icy, and she worries at a small scar on her chin with a thumb before taking another sip.
“I’m not here to cut corners. I’m here because there are things I am owed. Things I was promised, and then offered only at a price too steep to pay.”
She chuckles a little, a challenge in her eyes as she looks at Belladonna.
“Unlike you, I don’t need to create a noble house; I’m the sole heir to one. The Holy House of Hadir, in Cormyr. But my title, and the money and the power - both political and divine - that I am rightfully owed and was promised came with demands. Chains. Marriage. Children. Servitude to a god who never once saw fit to free me from my bonds.”
She finishes her drink and stares at the empty tumbler with a vacant expression.
“So I left. And now I’m waiting. Waiting, and training. Hoping for the time to strike. To take back what is mine. I came to Kantas in the hopes of finding… a safe haven perhaps. Allies. Power that I could gain now that I have been stripped of the radiance in my blood. So far my search has turned up nothing but incompetent bards, holier-than-thou clerics and mindless fighters with no ambition beyond bloodshed. I’m hoping the Witching Court could be a stepping stone to what I want - but I refuse to enter into a deal. I will never be beholden to another again.”
She lifts her gaze, finally.
“Make no mistake, Belladonna, one day I will take back the life that was stolen from me, and in doing so, I may become the very thing you say you hunt. Is this where we part ways? Or do you think the Court can help me?”
Belladonna sits for a moment puzzling something out in her mind, then her face softens.
“Oziah, I fear you perhaps misunderstand me. You sound like the very person I would help. I created the House of Thorpe to aid those who needed it. Those who could not find aid among the nobles and those with greater resources than them. What I cannot abide are selfish leaders. Leaders who let their people struggle whilst they live in luxury.”
She relaxes back into the chair.
“I don’t know that I intend to put you forward for a deal with Nicnevin, and I certainly wouldn’t suggest you bind yourself to her. I am sure the Witching Court could help you. They could certainly make you a deal and with my help I am sure it would be as favourable as possible but it would come with a price and I am not sure that it would be one you want to pay. If you want to investigate it as a possibility, I would be happy to discuss matters with Nicnevin, Sister Subane or Mistress Songbird and provide you with an introduction.”
She sends the mage hand to refresh their drinks whilst she pauses and chooses her next words.
“My help, on the other hand, has just one price and one I hope that you would not mind paying. I will help you take back what is owed to you, whatever power or wealth it is, all I ask is that you be kind and competent with regards to whoever this power and influence and wealth affects.”
Oziah’s lip curls slightly with disdain, but Belladonna raises an eyebrow back and continues.
“With the obvious exceptions of those who have wronged you and drove you here. Those bastards I will gladly help you run through with my sword.”
The hand floats back over handing refreshed drinks to both of them.
“I have no problem with someone who wishes to rule or have wealth, every society requires leaders and having wealth is nice. My problem is with leaders who care only for themselves and their own comfort, those that are prepared to sacrifice the needs of their citizens to achieve it. If you can assure me that you will always try to never let yourself become one of those leaders then I will happily help you achieve that goal and avenge the loss they have caused.”
Oziah takes a healthy swig from the refilled tumbler.
“Fear not, the people of Lesus want for nothing except freedom from subjugation.The clergy rule with an iron fist in the name of Torm. I would see them all freed. No one deserves to be chained. Death is a mercy in comparison.”
Her eyes go vacant again as she looks at the finely crafted glass in her hand. Swirling the liquid slowly in it, she lets light creep up from her palm, reflecting and refracting to dance around the cave.
“This is all I have left from what they gave me. The rest I’ve had to teach myself. It took me months to finally figure out how to call for help - that’s when Deimos came.”
The light glitters around them for a moment before it fades.
“I would not be averse to having a tutor.”
“Well then. If that is all the people of Lesus need I think we can find a way to provide it.”
Oziah raises her glass in a small toast.
“I am not sure how magic you are taught here will manifest,” Belladonna continues. “Mine have been largely physical enhancements and illusions, and Fenris.”
She looks over to the little fox now gently dozing on the bed, their legs twitching as they run in their sleep.
“You seem very strong willed though so I am certain you’ll pick up a thing or two during your stay. I am joining tomorrow for some lessons. You should come along and see if you can pick anything up.”
The other woman lets a small grin slip as she holds out her glass for yet another refill.
“Challenge accepted.”
In collaboration with rossritchie36 🖤⚔
Oziah’s trademark scowl had only mellowed somewhat as the rest of the party had teleported back to the material plane - her piercing blue eyes now drinking in her surroundings with curiosity.
Belladonna smooths down her signature and voluminous white gown, studded with various crystals that contrast remarkably against her dark drow skin but matching the flawless white of her hair, as always neatly placed into an updo. She tilts her head, nodding to a corridor off to the side.
“This way.”
She leads Oziah back to her accomodation in the Witching Court; a simple cave decorated with as many fine things as Belladonna carried on her person. Her fox familiar, white as fresh snow, leaps gracefully from her shoulders to curl up on the bed, their blue eyes meeting Oziah’s own.
Belladonna gestures to two comfortable arm chairs.
“Please make yourself comfortable, my friend. Can I get you some tea? Or perhaps something stronger?”
Oziah tears her eyes away from the fox and nods. She methodically undoes a few clasps and unties her cloak, shedding parts of her splint and setting her nondescript sword and shield aside in a neat pile on the floor. Sinking down into the armchair she pushes her messy hair out of her face and closes her eyes briefly, seemingly enjoying the quiet.
“Do you have any gin?”
Belladonna smiles.
“But of course, what do you take me for! I managed to find a special kind brewed in the Witching Court. How does a martini sound?”
She reaches her hands into a small cabinet and pulls out two bottles followed by some elegant and almost impractically long stemmed glasses. A spectral greyish-blue mage hand reaches over to another table fetching other ingredients, olives, ice and such, but before she can mix the drink Oziah raises a pale hand.
“Neat, please. If you don’t mind.”
“No problem at all,” she says with a warm smile.
She sends the spectral hand to fetch a small and elegant crystal tumbler, pours a healthy measure in and hands it to Oziah. For her own drink, she adds the two liquids together with a puff of smoke as though brewing a potion like Lady Sunbane was trying to teach her the week before. She preferred the practical uses of magic, but the mixing skills required for potion making had significantly improved her martinis.
She utters a word in sylvan and her large white dress shimmers into a more comfortable flowing gown, one far less voluminous and much more practical for sitting.
“So, you want to know about the Witching Court?”
Oziah tracks her movements and gestures with an unreadable expression, sipping her drink quietly for a moment before replying.
“Impressive,” she says finally, not sounding very impressed. “But nothing compared to what you did on the field earlier. Something tells me your skill with the blade has nothing to do with the Witching Court. Are they teaching you anything more than parlour tricks?”
Her voice drips with her usual disdain but her eyes betray a genuine curiosity.
“What are they giving you? And more importantly, what are you giving them in return?”
“That is an interesting question…” She muses for a moment. “I have an unusual connection to the Feywild, when I was a little girl I stumbled into it and ever since then I’ve been blessed with natural magic.”
She stands, walking over to pet Fenris.
“The magic they have taught me here is already quite powerful. I have only been given a week of tutoring so far and I can already create illusions, make my blade boom with thunder and channel it to improve my muscles and make me able to leap incredibly far and create Fenris here.” She ruffles behind the ears of the fox. “They are incredibly useful gifts to have.”
She spins on an elegant white heeled boot, not visible before due to her floor length gown and her hazel eyes meet Oziah’s.
“Before I tell you about my arrangement and why I have skill with a blade, I would appreciate your discretion. If you share my story with others I will not be able to help those that I have promised to, and they are in need of help.”
Oziah raises an eyebrow at the mention of an arrangement but doesn’t remark upon it. She considers the woman before her - a formidable fighter and a true professional, a relief to work with after the many months of bumbling adventurers - and nods.
“Your secrets are safe with me. As I assume mine are with you.”
“Of course.”
Belladonna tops up her martini, holds the gin bottle in her mage hand offering some more for Oziah. Once comfortably seated, she starts her tale.
“When I was a little girl, I was born very poor. I did not have a noble house and my village's section of the Underdark was not going to become wealthy. So I learned how to survive and make money in other ways. My skill with a blade comes from the necessity of finding food and defending my village because we didn't have the money to pay anyone to do it for us.”
She sighs like a large weight has lifted from her.
“I created the House of Thorpe and have spent decades building it into a name that spoke of opulence, but, more importantly, philanthropy. I travelled throughout the Underdark and convinced the nobles, the matron mothers, whoever was in charge and hoarded more than they needed. By the time I was done talking to them they believed that Lolth saw great potential in the village and to assist in being a founder of it would make their name known throughout the Underdark, or that they would look good and Shar would smile upon them if they gave their money up. The gods didn’t care about the village, so I knew I had to become competent and make the changes myself.”
She takes a moment to breathe.
“Then I took their gold and gave it to the village. Seeing that the wealth these people had to just give away could get my home to a point where it could stand on its own two feet, I decided to do more. So I came to Kantas. My name does not have the same sway here so I am building it through adventuring. The Witching Court has given me a means to help more people.
I will bring them fools who are not content with the obscene wealth they have and are not prepared to do the work to achieve their goals and Nicnevin will grant their wish. There is always a price for cutting corners and the witches know how to use it to benefit their home, much like I did. So I will bring them fools and they will help me to help others.”
For a long moment, Oziah says nothing. She sips at her topped-up drink, taking Belladonna’s words.
“Well, you are right in one thing. The gods do not care about your village. They don’t care about anything but themselves.”
She doesn’t comment on Belladonna’s cause. Their alliance is still in its infancy and should Belladonna prove to be married to her morals she might take offence at Oziah’s lack of them.
“If your crusade is the secret you wish me to keep, fear not - I’ll still keep it. But you should know, I’m on the same path yet with a very different destination in mind.”
The blue in her eyes is icy, and she worries at a small scar on her chin with a thumb before taking another sip.
“I’m not here to cut corners. I’m here because there are things I am owed. Things I was promised, and then offered only at a price too steep to pay.”
She chuckles a little, a challenge in her eyes as she looks at Belladonna.
“Unlike you, I don’t need to create a noble house; I’m the sole heir to one. The Holy House of Hadir, in Cormyr. But my title, and the money and the power - both political and divine - that I am rightfully owed and was promised came with demands. Chains. Marriage. Children. Servitude to a god who never once saw fit to free me from my bonds.”
She finishes her drink and stares at the empty tumbler with a vacant expression.
“So I left. And now I’m waiting. Waiting, and training. Hoping for the time to strike. To take back what is mine. I came to Kantas in the hopes of finding… a safe haven perhaps. Allies. Power that I could gain now that I have been stripped of the radiance in my blood. So far my search has turned up nothing but incompetent bards, holier-than-thou clerics and mindless fighters with no ambition beyond bloodshed. I’m hoping the Witching Court could be a stepping stone to what I want - but I refuse to enter into a deal. I will never be beholden to another again.”
She lifts her gaze, finally.
“Make no mistake, Belladonna, one day I will take back the life that was stolen from me, and in doing so, I may become the very thing you say you hunt. Is this where we part ways? Or do you think the Court can help me?”
Belladonna sits for a moment puzzling something out in her mind, then her face softens.
“Oziah, I fear you perhaps misunderstand me. You sound like the very person I would help. I created the House of Thorpe to aid those who needed it. Those who could not find aid among the nobles and those with greater resources than them. What I cannot abide are selfish leaders. Leaders who let their people struggle whilst they live in luxury.”
She relaxes back into the chair.
“I don’t know that I intend to put you forward for a deal with Nicnevin, and I certainly wouldn’t suggest you bind yourself to her. I am sure the Witching Court could help you. They could certainly make you a deal and with my help I am sure it would be as favourable as possible but it would come with a price and I am not sure that it would be one you want to pay. If you want to investigate it as a possibility, I would be happy to discuss matters with Nicnevin, Sister Subane or Mistress Songbird and provide you with an introduction.”
She sends the mage hand to refresh their drinks whilst she pauses and chooses her next words.
“My help, on the other hand, has just one price and one I hope that you would not mind paying. I will help you take back what is owed to you, whatever power or wealth it is, all I ask is that you be kind and competent with regards to whoever this power and influence and wealth affects.”
Oziah’s lip curls slightly with disdain, but Belladonna raises an eyebrow back and continues.
“With the obvious exceptions of those who have wronged you and drove you here. Those bastards I will gladly help you run through with my sword.”
The hand floats back over handing refreshed drinks to both of them.
“I have no problem with someone who wishes to rule or have wealth, every society requires leaders and having wealth is nice. My problem is with leaders who care only for themselves and their own comfort, those that are prepared to sacrifice the needs of their citizens to achieve it. If you can assure me that you will always try to never let yourself become one of those leaders then I will happily help you achieve that goal and avenge the loss they have caused.”
Oziah takes a healthy swig from the refilled tumbler.
“Fear not, the people of Lesus want for nothing except freedom from subjugation.The clergy rule with an iron fist in the name of Torm. I would see them all freed. No one deserves to be chained. Death is a mercy in comparison.”
Her eyes go vacant again as she looks at the finely crafted glass in her hand. Swirling the liquid slowly in it, she lets light creep up from her palm, reflecting and refracting to dance around the cave.
“This is all I have left from what they gave me. The rest I’ve had to teach myself. It took me months to finally figure out how to call for help - that’s when Deimos came.”
The light glitters around them for a moment before it fades.
“I would not be averse to having a tutor.”
“Well then. If that is all the people of Lesus need I think we can find a way to provide it.”
Oziah raises her glass in a small toast.
“I am not sure how magic you are taught here will manifest,” Belladonna continues. “Mine have been largely physical enhancements and illusions, and Fenris.”
She looks over to the little fox now gently dozing on the bed, their legs twitching as they run in their sleep.
“You seem very strong willed though so I am certain you’ll pick up a thing or two during your stay. I am joining tomorrow for some lessons. You should come along and see if you can pick anything up.”
The other woman lets a small grin slip as she holds out her glass for yet another refill.
“Challenge accepted.”
In collaboration with rossritchie36 🖤⚔