All This and Heaven Too - 22/11 - Sorrel
Nov 26, 2022 14:11:01 GMT
Velania Kalugina and Andy D like this
Post by stephena on Nov 26, 2022 14:11:01 GMT
Little Sorrel Darkfire was no better than a street urchin, running half wild around the docks in Baldur’s Gate. Her parents had sold her at birth but didn’t tell her until she was 10 and the House came to collect on her 16th birthday. That day training began, and she put aside childish things.
But she was still Little Sorrel Darkfire deep inside.
Only now there were demons and devils and angels and gods. Sometimes, it seemed, the fate of thousands depended on her nimble feet and cunning mind.
Little Sorrel Darkfire was out of her league.
--
She took the measure of her companions.
Zola was missing her left eye and half of her face was covered in a silver mask.
Silvia still wore her brand new body like an old man’s giant overcoat, letting it sit uneasily on her soul.
Velania’s gentle eyes and soft brow were changed – the sparkle gone, new furrows come. She spent more time crying than laughing these days.
Pipper had cupcakes and an uneasy smile. Sorrel remembered the mage’s trauma when the dreams of the fiends had wracked them all, and wondered what had happened to her since.
But Kavel… her brother remained unchanged.
No, not unchanged. He was, somehow, taller and stronger. Magic suffused his skin. The token of his lady shone like a star. But he was the same bright spirit that ever with a frolic welcome took the thunder and the sunshine.
He had become the moving mountain he first sought in Kantas.
Jackal, of course, was just the same. Mighty messenger of the goddess, perhaps. Bolshie grump, definitely. The task was serving Velania, who they loved, and Jackal was moving the heavens to help. But, as usual….
“Right, you’re off to find an angel,” he barked. “Lower ranking than me. Bit of a dick. Hiding in a demi-plane between here and the celestial plane.”
“Why is he hiding?” Zola wondered.
“I don’t know,” Jackal shrugged, bored. “I just have his co-ordinates.”
Velana spoke softly, and they all craned to hear. “I haven’t him seen for two years. He is my great great something-or-other grandfather. When I was a child he’d visit all the time. But I think as I got older he found me…” she paused, swallowed. “…boring…”
Before Sorrel could reach out to her, Jackal cut in.
“I can’t go with you, I should be clear.”
“How did I not see that coming?” Sorrel rolled her eyes.
“What shit are you starting Darkfire?” Jackal’s eyes blazed.
“Oh, sorry, did I say that out loud?” she met his gaze. “Or was I just remembering every single other time you chucked us in it and fucked off?”
Silvia and Zola spoke calming words and they stepped into eternity.
--
They arrived in mist and sparkling lights, standing on a darkling plane glimmering and vast, it’s smooth floor stretching in to forever.
They used such dweomers and incantations as they had, poor though their skill might be, and after time upon time wrestling with truth against an army of uncertainty they stumbled into what could have been a clearing in a forest where rested a chaise longue, some dusty books, a flask of wine, a simple basket of grapes and Sarch’Rael, the indolent angel, resting there in uffish thought until disturbed by their arrival.
And then the angel spoke.
“Oh fuck…”
He waved his mighty hands.
--
They were on a blue tiled floor within a standing circle of ancient pillars, each one bearing an object – a crystal ball, a gleaming sapphire, a necklace of delicate prayer beads, a blue flower glittering with fey beauty and a greatsword jammed into the top of its supporting pillar.
Velania stood alone in the centre of the ring.
Arcane energy surged around them. Sorrel knew they would not escape without solving whatever this was.
Kavel stepped forward and grabbed the sword, sending power surging in a spinning vortex through each of them before it poured into Velania.
Sorrel blinked away a fog that tried to gather in her mind, but saw Pipper, Kavel and Sylvia losing some sense of self, grabbing at memories.
Velania spoke, her voice crystal clear, ringing out.
“These things are of the stories of the Goddess,” she said calmly. "They are faith, the moon, beauty, power and struggle. We must tell whichever story this puzzle represents.” And she grasped the prayer beads.
Nothing.
Sorrel turned to the flower, but as soon as her fingertips touched it, a second charge surged through them.
Kavel was worst affected, confusion clouding his gentle eyes.
Velania, the leadership of Selûne’s temple resting lightly on her slim shoulders, raised her free hand to bless them all.
Holy light flared in Sorrel’s heart, and they set to work, grappling for the correct combination before they lost their minds.
They were almost too late.
--
The spell finally broke and they were in the angel's presence again. Sorrel saw Kavel staring at them all, not quite afraid but tensing to receive or deliver a blow. She reached out to him and saw no sign of recognition.
“Brother, it’s me, Sorrel, do you not know me? We shared our blood, you and I – see?”
She raised her hand, the scar of her hunting knife still visible, showing where she had forged the warrior’s bond with this mighty goliath. Kavel regarded his own hand, with matching scar, and hesitantly took Sorrel’s small palm in his.
The scars flared with holy power as Selûne’s love coursed through them both, some celestial memory of the temple hall where they had sworn their oath.
Kavel blinked.
“Sorrel, what’s going on? Why is everyone looking at me?”
--
But Velania was talking to Sarch’Rael.
She was pleading, her soul laid bare, hoping for a sign that her father’s line loved her. Sarch’Rael squirmed and twisted as he lied and evaded, breaking Velania’s heart still further with every word.
Sorrel could see Velania’s faith, insane faith, that she could save this wastrel and knew her friend might throw all of her time in heaven and earth away just for a smile from a fool who cared nothing for her.
Then the sky cracked open, and moonlight spilled down, washing over them, filling all with dread.
The beams coiled and froze, revealing a woman some 10 feet tall, aglow with power and grace, her face too terrible to look upon but too wonderful to turn away.
It was but a shadow of an avatar of Selûne, Sorrel’s prayers told her, and she trembled to think what it would be like to stand before the Goddess herself.
Sarch’Rael fell to his knees.
The Goddess walked towards Velania and spoke with a voice as old as time but as young as a child – “you have outgrown him,” she said simply.
Velania hesitated.
“I will send someone to you,” the Goddess whispered. “She will help you.”
The Moonmaiden’s gaze drifted across the party and fell on Sorrel. She could feel the presence of other, mighty beings walking around her, almost invisible but present at the edge of reality.
And then they were alone, standing in front of the altar in the temple.
--
Sorrel’s eyes searched Velania’s face, seeing only pain.
Silvia and Zola, holy warriors infused with celestial power, were moving to comfort her.
Sorrel thought of the first time she had met Velania, how the gentle cleric had helped her find her path. She thought of how Velania had fought alongside her in Hell, her light shining out in the fires of Phlegethos. She saw the face of Col, Velania’s love who Sorrel had left behind despite swearing to bring him home.
As the shining plate, powerful muscles and wise brows of the party moved to aid the broken priest, Sorrel looked down at her battered leather armour, scarred brown skin and simple yew bow.
She had nothing to give her saviour. She was no paladin, no goliath of the mountains, no mighty wizard.
She was little Sorrel Darkfire, the urchin.
She might have some gold from her time here, but no-one should be fooled by the rocks that she’d got. She was still Sorrel from the docks.
“Velania, know you are loved,” she whispered, then got out of everyone’s way.
But she was still Little Sorrel Darkfire deep inside.
Only now there were demons and devils and angels and gods. Sometimes, it seemed, the fate of thousands depended on her nimble feet and cunning mind.
Little Sorrel Darkfire was out of her league.
--
She took the measure of her companions.
Zola was missing her left eye and half of her face was covered in a silver mask.
Silvia still wore her brand new body like an old man’s giant overcoat, letting it sit uneasily on her soul.
Velania’s gentle eyes and soft brow were changed – the sparkle gone, new furrows come. She spent more time crying than laughing these days.
Pipper had cupcakes and an uneasy smile. Sorrel remembered the mage’s trauma when the dreams of the fiends had wracked them all, and wondered what had happened to her since.
But Kavel… her brother remained unchanged.
No, not unchanged. He was, somehow, taller and stronger. Magic suffused his skin. The token of his lady shone like a star. But he was the same bright spirit that ever with a frolic welcome took the thunder and the sunshine.
He had become the moving mountain he first sought in Kantas.
Jackal, of course, was just the same. Mighty messenger of the goddess, perhaps. Bolshie grump, definitely. The task was serving Velania, who they loved, and Jackal was moving the heavens to help. But, as usual….
“Right, you’re off to find an angel,” he barked. “Lower ranking than me. Bit of a dick. Hiding in a demi-plane between here and the celestial plane.”
“Why is he hiding?” Zola wondered.
“I don’t know,” Jackal shrugged, bored. “I just have his co-ordinates.”
Velana spoke softly, and they all craned to hear. “I haven’t him seen for two years. He is my great great something-or-other grandfather. When I was a child he’d visit all the time. But I think as I got older he found me…” she paused, swallowed. “…boring…”
Before Sorrel could reach out to her, Jackal cut in.
“I can’t go with you, I should be clear.”
“How did I not see that coming?” Sorrel rolled her eyes.
“What shit are you starting Darkfire?” Jackal’s eyes blazed.
“Oh, sorry, did I say that out loud?” she met his gaze. “Or was I just remembering every single other time you chucked us in it and fucked off?”
Silvia and Zola spoke calming words and they stepped into eternity.
--
They arrived in mist and sparkling lights, standing on a darkling plane glimmering and vast, it’s smooth floor stretching in to forever.
They used such dweomers and incantations as they had, poor though their skill might be, and after time upon time wrestling with truth against an army of uncertainty they stumbled into what could have been a clearing in a forest where rested a chaise longue, some dusty books, a flask of wine, a simple basket of grapes and Sarch’Rael, the indolent angel, resting there in uffish thought until disturbed by their arrival.
And then the angel spoke.
“Oh fuck…”
He waved his mighty hands.
--
They were on a blue tiled floor within a standing circle of ancient pillars, each one bearing an object – a crystal ball, a gleaming sapphire, a necklace of delicate prayer beads, a blue flower glittering with fey beauty and a greatsword jammed into the top of its supporting pillar.
Velania stood alone in the centre of the ring.
Arcane energy surged around them. Sorrel knew they would not escape without solving whatever this was.
Kavel stepped forward and grabbed the sword, sending power surging in a spinning vortex through each of them before it poured into Velania.
Sorrel blinked away a fog that tried to gather in her mind, but saw Pipper, Kavel and Sylvia losing some sense of self, grabbing at memories.
Velania spoke, her voice crystal clear, ringing out.
“These things are of the stories of the Goddess,” she said calmly. "They are faith, the moon, beauty, power and struggle. We must tell whichever story this puzzle represents.” And she grasped the prayer beads.
Nothing.
Sorrel turned to the flower, but as soon as her fingertips touched it, a second charge surged through them.
Kavel was worst affected, confusion clouding his gentle eyes.
Velania, the leadership of Selûne’s temple resting lightly on her slim shoulders, raised her free hand to bless them all.
Holy light flared in Sorrel’s heart, and they set to work, grappling for the correct combination before they lost their minds.
They were almost too late.
--
The spell finally broke and they were in the angel's presence again. Sorrel saw Kavel staring at them all, not quite afraid but tensing to receive or deliver a blow. She reached out to him and saw no sign of recognition.
“Brother, it’s me, Sorrel, do you not know me? We shared our blood, you and I – see?”
She raised her hand, the scar of her hunting knife still visible, showing where she had forged the warrior’s bond with this mighty goliath. Kavel regarded his own hand, with matching scar, and hesitantly took Sorrel’s small palm in his.
The scars flared with holy power as Selûne’s love coursed through them both, some celestial memory of the temple hall where they had sworn their oath.
Kavel blinked.
“Sorrel, what’s going on? Why is everyone looking at me?”
--
But Velania was talking to Sarch’Rael.
She was pleading, her soul laid bare, hoping for a sign that her father’s line loved her. Sarch’Rael squirmed and twisted as he lied and evaded, breaking Velania’s heart still further with every word.
Sorrel could see Velania’s faith, insane faith, that she could save this wastrel and knew her friend might throw all of her time in heaven and earth away just for a smile from a fool who cared nothing for her.
Then the sky cracked open, and moonlight spilled down, washing over them, filling all with dread.
The beams coiled and froze, revealing a woman some 10 feet tall, aglow with power and grace, her face too terrible to look upon but too wonderful to turn away.
It was but a shadow of an avatar of Selûne, Sorrel’s prayers told her, and she trembled to think what it would be like to stand before the Goddess herself.
Sarch’Rael fell to his knees.
The Goddess walked towards Velania and spoke with a voice as old as time but as young as a child – “you have outgrown him,” she said simply.
Velania hesitated.
“I will send someone to you,” the Goddess whispered. “She will help you.”
The Moonmaiden’s gaze drifted across the party and fell on Sorrel. She could feel the presence of other, mighty beings walking around her, almost invisible but present at the edge of reality.
And then they were alone, standing in front of the altar in the temple.
--
Sorrel’s eyes searched Velania’s face, seeing only pain.
Silvia and Zola, holy warriors infused with celestial power, were moving to comfort her.
Sorrel thought of the first time she had met Velania, how the gentle cleric had helped her find her path. She thought of how Velania had fought alongside her in Hell, her light shining out in the fires of Phlegethos. She saw the face of Col, Velania’s love who Sorrel had left behind despite swearing to bring him home.
As the shining plate, powerful muscles and wise brows of the party moved to aid the broken priest, Sorrel looked down at her battered leather armour, scarred brown skin and simple yew bow.
She had nothing to give her saviour. She was no paladin, no goliath of the mountains, no mighty wizard.
She was little Sorrel Darkfire, the urchin.
She might have some gold from her time here, but no-one should be fooled by the rocks that she’d got. She was still Sorrel from the docks.
“Velania, know you are loved,” she whispered, then got out of everyone’s way.
