Alkaline – Velania – 29/02/2022

INACTION
Six months since I was last in Kantas. My duties over in Faerûn could not have been more tedious. Thank the Moonmaiden I was back.

My heart fluttered when I saw the familiar silhouette of the Three-Headed Ettin. Coll would be there, or so I hoped. I’d not seen him smiling for all this time. Or heard his friendly laugh. Or watched him leaning over the bar, sleeves rolled up, directing the Tabards with a sparkle in his eye.

I would spend one night at the Ettin – blushing helplessly in the Great Hall, no doubt. Kicking my heels and wishing I were braver. Or more impulsive. And then I would return to Daring Heights tomorrow. To where Coll wasn’t. I needed to get back to the temple of Selûne, and I could not wait to catch up with so many other people.

I remembered with a lurch that just before I left Kantas, I spoke with great emotion to Faust. He was one of the first people I met when I arrived here, among my first Kantas companions. Six months ago, in that heartfelt conversation, I described seeing him get knocked out in a battle, and how much it had panicked me that I didn’t take action quick enough. So I told him – I promised him – that if he ever needed me, I’d always have his back. I’d be there for him.

But then I left. And now he’s gone. Just like that. When I heard the news, I could barely breathe. I’ll miss his kindness, I’ll miss his bravery, and even his long, rambling stories, which I never grew tired of. Despite his mirth, I always saw a quiet sadness behind his eyes. I hope he has found peace now, and I will remember his name always.

I failed him. I made an empty promise. I didn’t act on it. I let him down.

THE JACKAL
I ordered a hot, bitter herb tea. “As strong and sour as you can make it,” I told Coll. I think he looked concerned, but I bade a hasty retreat and sat brooding in the corner.

Even as I sat down, I kicked myself. Velania, what are you waiting for? You want to act? Then act! Just talk to him! What in Toril was I doing? Coll was just looking out for me, as he always did. But I’d just grunted at him and walked away. I simmered in my anger.

A hush rippled across the Great Hall. I glanced up to see a tall, broad man enter the room. The Jackal. In his fifties or sixties, cropped grey hair, 5’10”, dressed in full plate, and a warrior’s keen glint in his eye. Handsome, rugged, but with a cruel, disdainful sneer. He shoved his way past someone – an axe-wielding warrior of considerable note called Ivan. The Jackal ignored Ivan and strode to the bar. Half-swaggering, half-prowling.

Everyone watched in awe and trepidation as the Jackal barked at Coll, ordering many drinks. He downed pint after pint, not slowing his pace or showing the slightest sign of being affected by it. The gym bros milled about watching him with respect. Curious, but intimidated. The Jackal brushed aside any attempts at friendly conversation. Even Coll’s welcoming smile faded as this formidable man drew all the joy and the energy out of every corner of the room.

Eventually, the Jackal rose and walked out of the hall. He marched to the training grounds, followed by several of the regular gym bros. Whatever he was about to do, everyone was watching avidly. As much out of frustration as curiosity, I followed the crowd out to see what was happening.

The Jackal sauntered out the sparring pit, spat on the sand, and said in a dark, gravelly voice, “Well? Who’s first?”

FIGHT 1 – IVAN
Ivan stepped into the pit. I’d seen him training with a greataxe and he’s a fearsome fighter. But this evening, he decided to draw out smaller axes and he hurled them from afar.

In a flash, the Jackal had brushed the axes aside, crossed the pit, and slammed Ivan with a huge, flaming sword. The crowd gasped. His speed was deadly, his strength ferocious. He sneered spitefully at Ivan and taunted him to keep his distance.

The camaraderie of the training ground evaporated.

Scowling, Ivan rose to his feet and dashed for one of his axes. Once more, the Jackal struck him, taunting him again. “Is that the best you can do?” Ivan glared furiously at him, but try as he might to launch attack after attack, the Jackal forced him back, dodged him, cut him, knocked him prone. “Ask for help if you need it,” the Jackal mocked. So Ivan yelled out for a new axe, and several were thrown to him from the crowd. He took his stance and charged.

But the Jackal outmanoeuvred him again. He knocked Ivan flat, holding his sword to the man’s neck, scoffing coldly.

Unafraid, the Jackal turned his back on Ivan. “Who’s next?” he snapped.

FIGHT 2 – GLINT AND CYCLONE
Ivan staggered out of the pit, dazed and shaken, as two figures stepped from the crowd. Cyclone, a sure-footed Air Genasi, and Glint, an arcane-wielding Fire Genasi, with an owl perched on his shoulder.

Upon seeing it was two people squaring off in front of him, the Jackal grinned spitefully. He seized an onlooker from the crowd, a purple-skinned Tiefling, and dragged him in, startled and helpless.

“Root!” Glint gasped with shock. And when the Jackal chuckled with relish, I realized something about him. Not merely an incredible warrior, he was somehow able to peer into mind of another, plunder their soul, and tear out their darkest, innermost secret. He had known this person was precious to Glint, and he was using that to hurt the wizard. Small wonder he had been able to defeat Ivan so easily and rattle him to the core.

They began to dance. Cyclone spinning a quarterstaff, punching and kicking. Glint hurling spell after spell. The Jackal shrugged everything off, yanking Root about cruelly like a rag doll, twisting a blade into him, chuckling as Root gasped in pain.

Glint shouted in a blind rage, commanding his owl Strix to distract the Jackal. Cyclone sent a powerful barrage of wind at the man. The Jackal withstood the attacks, holding the barely-conscious Root up by the scruff of the neck, mocking them, daring them to try and save him.

The Genasi yelled at him for his cowardly lack of sportsmanship, but the Jackal only laughed back. Cyclone and Glint were as helpless as Ivan. Grinning, the Jackal released Root, who straightened up, and with the snap of a finger, transformed back into another person. A half-elf, cured of all wounds. They glanced at one another with the keen intent of companions. The unspoken words of comrades who knew each other’s thoughts.

It was all a trick. For no other purpose than to hurt Glint. I clenched the sidebar of the training pit, my knuckles pale with anger.

Then the Jackal turned to look at me. “Well?” he jeered.

My heart lurched.

FIGHT 3 – VELANIA
I had been standing there angry I had failed Faust. Angry I had not spoken to Coll. Angry I had not helped Ivan. Angry I had not helped Root. And Glint and Cyclone. Angry I had not leapt in and punched the Jackal in his smug, mocking face as hard as I could. Goddess knows, he deserved it.

But still, I could see he was a fantastic warrior, and his mockery was somehow on point. Hurting them cruelly, yes, but inspiring and driving them on. And if I was ever going to act, to stand up for myself, to save my friends, I would have to be better, faster, tougher. I would have to be brave. Decisive. Perhaps it would be a lesson worth learning.

I took a deep breath and stepped forward.

I did not expect to injure him. I did not expect to land a blow. I pulled off my mail shirt and threw my shield to the ground. If he was going to hit me like he hit Ivan, then armour would be no use. If he was going to pull fears from my mind like he did with Glint, then so be it. Whatever he said to me, however he hurt me, I would withstand. He would not break me.

“What are you waiting for?” he gloated. “You want to act? Then act!” As if he knew exactly what I had been saying to myself all evening. I sneered an insult back at him, then as he opened his mouth, I threw a spell at him.

He dodged. I fired. We circled each other. He mocked me again. “What are you waiting for?” I bit back my fury. I knew what he was doing, I knew it was a mind-game, but it got under my skin. They’re just words? Easy to say when you don’t have someone pulling open your mind, picking through it just to get at your worst ever fear.

Then I saw him. A figure in the crowd. A red-skinned Tiefling in a dark dinner jacket, peering at the sky in that quizzical way he used to, as he recalled the lyrics of an old song. I reeled in shock.

The Jackal’s voice curled into my head. “Any more promises you want to break?”

I gritted my teeth and shook the Jackal out of my head. And when I looked at the crowd, Faust had slipped out of sight. He was gone again. My heart was pounding. My arms shook with rage. I blinked away tears.

I called upon Selûne. Silver light poured from my eyes, and my wings burst forth. I leapt at him, preparing to smite him from the air. Or show him I was unafraid. But the Jackal leapt up to join me, somehow able to fly of his own accord. We grabbed each other by the scruff of the neck, circling in the sky. “Are you going to do something, or aren’t you?” he gloated.

“You think you’re helping?” I yelled back at him. “There are others who mean something to me. But not you! Whatever you think you’re doing… you don’t matter!”

“And yet you pause. You’re not taking action. Again.” The Jackal’s eyes glinted and he raised his sword at me for the first time. “Look, I’ll make it easy. We both do something on the count of three…”

Damn him. Damn his smug, undefeatable face. On the count of three, I would throw my most powerful magic at him. What did he deserve? To be disintegrated just like Faust. Would that I had the knowledge! But I bit back my anger and wrestled for self-control. I realised anything I had would be just a scratch to him.

So why even bother? Why give him the satisfaction? He was nothing. He was not my enemy. I was my own enemy. Inaction was my own enemy. Why make him worth a moment more of my time? There was no point in hurting the Jackal. None at all. But I was going to act. I’d make him wrong about that, at least.

So I counted to three myself, loudly, defiantly, and then I channelled a spell at him. I healed him… right at the moment his flaming sword punched into my belly. I gasped in shock, and nearly blacked out from the pain.

Then something strange happened. He pulled me closer to him, and leaned toward me. His eyes flashed. Not in the way they did when he had pulled a memory from me. No, this was a message from somewhere else. “She will need you before this is all over.”

I didn’t understand, but I was barely there any more. I tasted blood in my throat. I was half-delirious from the pain. We both descended to the ground. Him landing easily, me staggering as I landed. I sank to my knees in the sand, dirty and exhausted, wiping blood from my face.

ACTION
The Jackal turned to each of us in turn, and repeated his mocking words of advice. My ears were ringing. The others looked just as shaken. But all I was thinking about was that strange moment. “She will need you before this is all over.” Is that what he’d said to me? The rest of his words had made sense, in all their cruel accuracy. But that confused me. The phrase echoed in my head.

Then he and his half-elf wordlessly turned and walked out of the training ground, out of Fort Ettin, and off into the night. The crowd watched them leave in muted respect and awe. Nobody stopped them. Nobody said a word. And just like that, the Jackal was gone.

The crowds dissipated. Ivan, Cyclone, Glint and I staggered to sit down, in a daze. Too shaken to say much. Bloodied and rattled, and covered in dirt, I flagged down one of the invisible Tabards. I grabbed a tray of tankards and brought them over to the others. They took them silently. I spoke some inane platitude about it being nice to meet them. But then I stopped.

Are you going to do something, or aren’t you?

I stood up, took a breath, and looked down at the last tankard. I had never cared for alcohol. But tonight was different.

I lifted the tankard and drank. Drank hard. I emptied the tankard, my head spinning. Then I slammed it down.

I turned and marched right back into the Great Hall, heading straight for Coll.



Continues in Velania Stops Staring at Her Feet