Daughter of the Moon Worm/Bg3
Ok so, this was much longer than I was planning for it to be. I imagined something closer to 3k words not 8k lol. Oh well, what happens, happens I guess. Enjoy!
Small warning, I’ve never played Dnd so I may have gotten some stuff wrong. I have played Baldur’s Gate though, over 200 hours of it in fact, so most of that stuff should be correct.
No Promises.
Warning! Spoilers for Act Two and beyond! Major Plot points are mentioned in this story!
~~~
Dame Aylin-Sword of the Moonmaiden and Singer of Sorrows-was furious.
That wasn’t quite right, fury didn’t begin to describe what she was feeling. The righteous anger that suffused her very being, enhancing every swing of her sword and burning brighter inside of her than even her mother’s moon, could not be described as simply fury. No, Dame Aylin was enraged.
She shouted out as she swung out at her foe, the clang of metal meeting metal sounding out around them as her strike was blocked by a gilded warhammer. Her opponent, the man who had been the source of all her pain for over a century, nearly buckled under the unwavering force of her strike.
Aylin stepped forward, putting pressure upon her opponent’s weapon to prevent him from moving. At her side, her battle companion took the opening she had presented, swinging out at a gap in her opponent’s armor and stabbing into the vulnerable flesh underneath.
Ketheric Thorm gasped in pain. The bearded man jerked his hammer away from Aylin’s sword, stepping backward as a hand came to clutch at his wound.
Aylin brought her sword back against her as her companion stepped back to her place at the Aasimar’s side. She cast a smile to the redheaded elf beside her, “Well struck friend. We may rid Faerûn of this evil man yet.”
The woman grumbled lightly, “I certainly hope so. I’ve already ruined the shirt Volo gave me. Gale’s gonna let me have it, he really liked that shirt.” She shook the blood off of her daggers, sheathing them at her sides. She then retrieved her violin from her back, immediately strumming a tune as she infused the instrument with magic.
‘Te Cura!’ She spoke clearly, bringing the bow across the strings of her instrument one final time as she finished her spell.
As the final note rang out, Aylin sighed in quiet relief as the minor wounds on her person disappeared. Behind her, she could distantly hear the woman’s companions do the same as the healing spell took effect.
Aylin had had her doubts about the woman, she had seen few bards who preferred the battlefield to a crowded tavern for good reason, but upon her incredible performance in the Shadowfell, the Aasimar had laid all of said doubts well and truly to rest.
Every swing of her daggers left a pile of bones at her feet. Every strum of the violin on her back resulted in either pain and terror for her enemy’s, or relief and succor for her allies. And when she finally planted the blade of her dagger into the meat of Balthazar’s thick neck, Aylin knew she was no simple lyricist. Truly, there must not have been a more formidable bard in all of the Sword Coast.
In fact, every member of the party that had rescued her was formidable in one way or another.
An acolyte of Shar, one who willingly turned away from her dark goddess in favor of the answers she sought. One who had clearly formed a tight bond to those she traveled with, often looking upon them with a gaze warmer than her upbringing would ever allow. Her mace struck with both precision and power, a body left in the wake of every swing as she smashed her way through the undead horde around them.
Aylin had high hopes for her, just as her mother did.
A wizard who was one of the most formidable she had seen in her life. Waves of lightning and torrents of fire shot from his fingertips as if they were naught but mere cantrips. His eyes darted up to them every once in a while, alighting on the woman next to her with worry as they fought, before looking away, content to let the elf do her work. It could not dispel the worry however, and Aylin had a feeling that once all of this was said and done and celebrations were had, she would not be seeing the two of them for a long while.
And finally, a Githyanki of all things, fighting side by side with warriors of other races as if they had been raised in the same creche. She covered her allie’s weaknesses, taking up for their mistakes as she swung her massive silver blade with the directed fury of a mother owlbear protecting her cubs. Aylin had fought Githyanki before, knew how they fought, and could tell this Lae’zel was likely one of the most skilled in her race of already skilled warriors.
This group was truly one of a kind, formidable one and all, and Aylin could only wonder about the characters she might find at their camp. She couldn’t wait.
The Aasimar turned her attention back to her foe as he shouted in anger at them, bringing her sword to bear as her companion finished her spell and did the same beside her.
“Enough!” Ketheric staggered as his wounds caught up to him, unused to the feeling of being truly wounded for the first time in over a century, “My lord beckons me!” He shouted, and with a grunt of exertion, pushed them back with a wave of magic.
Aylin grunted as she righted herself in the air, flapping her wings once and sending her soaring high above the battlefield. She reared her sword back behind her, suffusing it with her divine magic as she prepared to strike down this evil man once and for all.
“You must return to your prison!” Ketheric shouted at her floating form, brandishing his warhammer angrily, “And my daughter must be reclaimed!”
Aylin was struck by what he said, lowering her sword as she took in his words. “Your daughter? Isobel?”
Isobel was alive? The love of her life, the woman who she had given everything to, had been prepared to mourn eternally in that hellish prison was alive…
As Aylin slowly came to terms with the fact that her life may not be deprived of all joy, Ketheric shouted once more, the gem on his chest glowing bright red as he swung his hammer in the air before pointing it at her.
The roof of Moonrise Tower rumbled powerfully, before a massive pink tentacle smashed upwards through the stonework.
Ketheric motioned once more and the fleshy appendage began swinging towards Aylin with speed beyond what its size indicated. Aylin's eyes widened as the tentacle cast a shadow upon her.
Aylin’s wings beat furiously as she flew to the side, doing her best to escape the massive width of the tentacle. She just barely managed to dodge, the wind assaulting her as the appendage passed her by.
And then something went wrong. Something grabbed hold of her as she dodged the tentacle, surrounding her in a shell of pulsing blue magic as it tried to do something to her. And worst of all, she couldn’t move, couldn’t twitch so much as a finger as she was trapped in the air by unknown magic.
Her instincts screamed out at her as a massive shadow covered her once more, the tentacle coming back down for another strike. The Aasimar could do nothing but watch in horror as the massive fleshy appendage swung down at her defenseless form, her companions screaming out below as it approached rapidly…
Only to bounce off of the shell of magic that had encompassed her. It reared back as if in pain, before retreating back into the hole it had come from with a screech. It did not return.
And yet while the danger of the tentacle had passed, Aylin was still trapped by whatever it was that had taken hold of her.
Her own magic pulsed and sparked, divine energy flaring outward in an attempt to stop whatever was happening to her. White flames flared from her body as she battled against the magic’s hold with her own. She imagined she looked akin to a star in the night sky, so much magic she exuded that she was no doubt burning brighter than the hottest hearth.
And yet it was not enough. Whatever sinister magic had taken hold of her was not able to be stopped or even slowed by her own. Below, she could hear the frantic sounds of a violin being played as her new friend tried to stop whatever was happening. Unfortunately, the bard’s magic was simply no match for whatever had taken hold of her, slipping off of the sinister spell like water off a duck’s back.
“It’s a modified transportation spell!” A voice shouted. She recognized it, it was the wizard, he knew what was happening with her. “It’s trying to take her away, but whoever cast it got the spell matrix all wrong! They didn’t specify a realm destination! She’ll be sent to who knows where!”
“Can’t we do anything?!” That was the former Sharran. She sounded scared, no doubt worried that her answers would disappear with Aylin.
“Not now! The spell is almost complete! The magic shell can’t be messed with, it must play out as it is supposed to unless we wish to be reduced to rubble along with this entire tower! We’ll have to wait until the spell is finished and retrieve her from wherever she ends up!”
This couldn’t be happening! She was finally free and now she was going to be ripped away! “No! NO! KETHERIC! ISOBEL!” Aylin screamed out in rage and panic as the magic overwhelmed her. The pulsing blue energy crept up her face and her eyes darted to and fro as she attempted to do something, anything to stop what was happening; to stop her from being torn from her darling Isobel before she even had the chance to meet her again in over a century.
It was all in vain however as the magic consumed her form completely, breaking through her own divine magic all at once and infusing her very body with its intent. And then, as suddenly as she had been miraculously rescued from the chains binding her to the Chosen of Myrkul, Dame Aylin disappeared from the face of Faerûn, gone to a place not even the most adventurous planeswalker had dared venture to.
Elsewhere, an overly arrogant wizard frowned as his spell failed to bring his quarry to him. He had expected as much, but it still grated on his nerves to fail so spectacularly. He shrugged, deciding to try again another day, not knowing that his blunder had ultimately changed the fates of people in a world he could only dream about.
~~~
Aylin tumbled blindly, blues and purples swirling around her confusingly as she was sent through the space between realms. It felt as if she was being pulled in every direction at once and she grit her teeth as she quickly became nauseous.
And then suddenly, she was free.
She tumbled through the air, falling towards the ground below for several meters before she was able to arrest her momentum with her wings. They snapped out as far as they could, catching the wind and turning her uncontrollable fall into a gentle glide.
She grimaced as she reoriented herself in the air, gaze roving around desperately as she attempted to figure out exactly where she had ended up. Her eyes widened as she took in her surroundings.
Whatever realm she had landed in must have very strange magic indeed. The area around her was resplendent with sights she had never imagined.
Whereas Faerûn was a world of earth and stone, this seemed to be one of metal and glass. Building’s larger than any she had seen stretched to the night sky as if reaching for the very heavens themselves, alighted against the night by the unseen lights inside. Even the greatest artificers in Faerûn would have difficulty replicating such a feat of engineering.
In the distance, the Aasimar could vaguely see a glowing blue bubble seemingly floating above the sea. No, that wasn’t quite right, though the shapes were a bit foggy at such a distance, Aylin could just barely make out the shadowy shapes of columns jutting from the water to hold the bubble aloft above the ocean floor, a feat that would be difficult to replicate without the use of magic. And yet the Aasimar still could not feel a hint of said magic anywhere nearby. Aylin wondered exactly what strange world she had found herself in, that they could perform such feats without the mystic arts.
Still… even ignoring the sight of the buildings so tall they would make the very gods jealous or even the light of hearths where none were to be found, Aylin couldn’t help but notice something was wrong. Something important was missing. She could feel it in her very soul.
She whirled about in the air, eyes darting about as she tried to uncover what had caused this disquiet inside her, As her eyes turned skyward, she froze, her sword nearly slipping from her suddenly limp fingers.
The Moon. The silver orb that hung in the night sky, an ever present bastion of hope and comfort to her the followers of Selûne, and a symbol of dread to those who chose to embrace Shar’s darkness. The symbol of her mother’s kindness and endless compassion should be filling her with comfort, and yet instead, as she gazed upon the vast sphere with uncomprehending eyes, she was filled with naught but dread.
Dame Aylin, Daughter of Selûne, Goddess of the Moon, could not feel a single iota of her mother’s presence within.
“What is this…” She muttered to herself as she stared at the celestial body uncomprehendingly, “Where did that magic send me, that I am so far away from my mother’s light to not even feel her presence in the heavens she calls her home…”
What had she done to deserve this? Did some unknown god simply wish to toy with her in the most evil way possible. Did they find it amusing to tear her away from all she had, mere moments after she finally got it back?
If she ever managed to return to her home, she would not hesitate in hunting down the one responsible for this. She would separate their head from their shoulders before they even managed to utter so much as a word in their defense. This she swore.
She was struck from her vengeful thoughts by a scream below her.
Aylin angled herself downward, searching for the origin of the sound, and her gaze alighted on a scene that both confused her, and enraged her.
A large shirtless tattooed man was looming over a cowering figure, clearly female judging by her figure and the hair emerging from the back of her head.
The man’s hand was raised, red hot flames engulfing the limb as he prepared to strike down upon her cowering form. Clouds of what appeared to be insects were attacking his body in a frenzy, and yet he did not waver, simply rearing back to deliver the final blow to this young woman.
Aylin didn’t know what kind of magic had brought her to this strange place of metal and glass. She didn’t know why she couldn’t feel her mother’s presence in the night sky above. And above all else, she didn’t know how she was going to make it back to Faerûn; back to her Isobel.
No, she didn’t know any of this. What the Nightsong did know was that on the streets below, someone too young to hold a spear was about to be slaughtered like cattle. She would not let this stand!
Her Oath burned brightly in her mind and her wings folded tight against her back as she angled herself downward. She began losing height at a rapid pace, approaching the two people below at a tremendous speed.
The girl noticed her as she got close, as evidenced by the sudden lack of screaming, and as the shirtless man began to turn away, Aylin’s armored boot slammed into his upper back.
He flew away as the momentum from her dive transferred into his body, snapping bone and bruising flesh as he was sent flying into the glass face of a shop several yards away. He broke through the glass as if it wasn’t there, crashing into and through the interior of the shop until he was well out of the Aasimar's sight.
As the man disappeared with a crash, Aylin turned to the teenager she had just rescued, taking in her prone form. She was dressed oddly, a snug black bodysuit covered in shiny black armor panels made of a material that reminded Aylin of a beetle’s exoskeleton.
Well, she had seen stranger people wearing stranger things she supposed. Aylin leaned down to the prone teenager, holding a hand out to her, “Can you stand?”
The teenager stared at her hand for “You just hit Lung…” She said dazedly, as if she couldn’t believe what had just happened, “An angel just kicked the leader of the ABB through a building…”
Aylin raised an eyebrow, retracting her hand as the teen failed to take it, “The man’s parents named him after the respiratory system?”
That shook the girl out of her shock, “What? No it’s Lung. You know? The Dragon of Kyushu?”
Aylin scoffed, “Please, that man was no dragon, I doubt he has even the barest smidge of dragon blood in his veins. Even the weakest dragonkin would be more than a match for him judging by what my attack accomplished. ”
The teen simply stared at her. The fire around them crackled in the silence, before it was broken by a loud cry.
“RAAAAAHHRRRGG!” The building that Aylin has thrown the dragon-man into exploded spectacularly, shards of burning glass and stone peppering the Aasimar’s body as she stepped protectively in front of the cowering teen behind her.
The man who she now knew as Lung stepped from the rubble, several feet taller than when she had thrown him in. Fire roiled along his bare skin, and even from her place on the other side of the street, she could just barely feel the heat..
Maybe there was some credence to his title after all
“Flee now child.” Aylin commanded as she turned to face her enraged foe, brandishing her sword in preparation, “This is no longer your fight.”
“But-!”
“GO! I will handle him. You need not throw your life away in a futile attempt to assist me.” Aylin didn’t turn around as she gave the command, her opponent had gotten to his feet. And he had transformed immensely. He had grown much larger, now easily towering over even Aylin’s six foot frame. His body was covered in glittering scales that shined in the firelight, and his mask had somehow fused to his face; metal becoming scale as the facade transformed along with him.
“IIL UO!” The man roared, scale-covered jaws struggling to form coherent words due to how transformed they were.
As the masked teen followed her command and retreated, Aylin thrust her sword toward the still growing man, eyes glowing a bright, pale blue with barely restrained power, “Come then knave!” She snarled, “You are no dragon, but I shall slay you all the same!”
Lung roared wordlessly, the fires around them growing with his rage. Some may have found his display impressive or frightening, but the daughter of Selûne was no stranger to battle, and indeed, this man was far from the dragon he was so poorly masquerading as. The heat of the surrounding flames felt like naught but a warm breeze to the Aasimar; simply resting upon her massive wings comfortably, as if she were sitting beside a warm hearth.
A single flap of said wings sent Aylin flying forward, her sword whistling through the air as she approached the man at blinding speeds. He swiped at her charging form, succeeding only in damaging the cement where she once stood.
Now directly in front of the man, Aylin swung her sword up with a battle cry. She felt satisfaction as her blade found purchase in his massive arm, slicing through flesh and bone like it wasn’t even there. Up above, Lung roared in pain as his right arm was severed at the elbow, he swung wildly at her, succeeding in knocking her upwards and backwards a few meters.
Aylin merely righted herself in the air with her wings, soaring upward before tilting and streaking towards her opponent once more, blade held at the ready and glowing brightly. She would not let him recover so easily.
Lung screamed out in pain as her blade bit into his side, sliding through flesh and muscle like butter and sending blood flying in every direction. He tried to strike out at her again, but she was already gone, having simply utilized her momentum to evade the strike before it had reached her.
She slid to a stop several feet away, wings flaring out to slow her momentum. She swung her blade to free it of blood, before getting into a stance as she watched her opponent warily.
The wound she had delivered moments ago was nearly healed, flesh and bone stitching itself together under some unseen force. In only moments, the massive gash she had scored in his side was gone and his arm was as good as new just seconds later. His healing factor was astounding.
As Lung roared in rage across from her, Aylin grinned fiercely.
An opponent like this was a perfect outlet for a century’s worth of rage and anguish; she would be remiss to let an opportunity such as this go to waste.
~~~
‘Who the hell is this lady?!’ Taylor thought furiously to herself as she hid on the roof of a relatively tall building. Even from her place several dozen yards away, she could still hear the sounds of enraged roaring, feel the heat of Lung’s fire, and she could even just barely see the dragon-man’s massive body peaking up above the buildings.
When she had read that Lung could turn into a dragon, Taylor had thought it was just an exaggeration. Everyone knew that powers were weird at the best of times, but come on, there had to be limits right? Right?!
She was wrong. So very, very wrong.
Honestly, even if Lung couldn’t turn into a dragon, she should have known better than to try to take on the man who allegedly defeated a good portion of the PRT at once with insects. Maybe some of Emma’s comments were right, maybe she was suicidal or something.
When she had been laying on the ground, said man looming over her menacingly as her bugs tried to attack him ineffectively, she thought that had been the end for her. ‘Here lies Taylor Hebert’ her tombstone would have read, ‘The idiot who thought bees could beat dragons. Rest in Peace.’
At least until someone defaced it or something. She had a feeling she knew exactly who would do it too. Three guesses and the first two don’t count.
As Lung raised his hand to kill her, several things had run through her mind: she had been horrified that she was about to die, sad that she would be leaving her father behind to bury another loved one, and most of all, she felt angry. She was angry that the first time she had tried to take her life into her own hands, the first time she decided to try to become somebody worth something, her life was going to be ripped away. It wasn’t fair, not one bit.
And then, just as she had closed her eyes in preparation for her likely painful death, she had been saved, a flash of silver had come from above and Lung was sent flying away like a rocket. And an angel, an honest to god angel had held her hand out to ask Taylor if she needed help standing.
Taylor had been taken back, not just by the fact that this woman had kicked Lung across the street like he was lighter than styrofoam, but also at the woman's appearance.
Her most prominent feature was her wings. Large beautiful things that looked to be both delicate and powerful. The snow white feathers were displayed prominently with every step she took, every action she made, and it was only further accentuated by her armor.
She was wearing scuffed silver armor that still shined beautifully despite the damage it had sustained. It looked like it was straight out of one of the old fairy tales Taylor’s mother had told her; tales of shining knights battling against fierce dragons to save captive princesses.
Huh. Now that she thought about it, that was kind of exactly what was happening wasn’t it?
Still, while all of this was interesting, the most striking thing Taylor had noticed were her eyes. Twin silver orbs that shined brightly in the surrounding dark, her gaze piercing as she stared into Taylor's own, eyes burning with barely restrained power.
Power she was showing now as she danced around Lung like he was a rookie cape who had never been in a fight before.
Even from here, Taylor could make out the silhouette of the woman's massive wings against the night sky. They flapped furiously as she weaved around Lung’s every strike, before darting in to deliver her own and dancing out of the way once more.
Taylor had heard stories of how Lung had beaten the entire Prt roster in the Bay by himself, and yet this woman was making him look like a complete and utter joke.
Lung was clearly frustrated with his inability to hit his target, and if his roars of anger failed to be an indication of his frustration…
Then the blazing fires he had caused around him certainly did.
At some point during the fight Lung had gone from just swinging at the angel-woman to flinging fire at her. He still missed of course, the woman was just too agile to be hit with projectiles that slow, and instead of setting her on fire, he instead set the buildings around them ablaze.
And now the fires were so numerous and so hot, that she could feel the heat all the way from her position several buildings away…
Taylor gulped. Yeah, she'd just hang back and help with her bugs if the situation called for it. No reason to go anywhere near the walking embodiment of immolation.
Besides, she had a feeling that the angel-woman wouldn’t need any help from her.
~~~
Having a living punching bag that she could vent her emotions upon was indeed great. For a time at least. Now however…
‘This is starting to vex me...’
Aylin frowned as she swung her sword to remove the crimson attached to the blade. Across from her, Lung slowly raised himself from the pile of rubble she had thrown him into. The man had continued growing as their fight continued, and now he truly looked like the dragon he claimed to be, though his power still paled in comparison to the weakest of the White Dragons.
While his size was truly immense compared to her own, his strength was certainly lacking. His strikes had little power behind them, naught but flesh and muscle being the source of his strength, no magic whatsoever. Truly, the only reason she had not defeated him yet, was due to his admittedly powerful regeneration.
Honestly, she had met true vampires with less powerful regeneration. It seemed like every wound she laid upon him, every radiant spell or searing strike, was shrugged off as he began healing before the damage was done being dealt. Add into this that he had started growing wings as the fight continued, and this fight had quickly become more of an annoyance than an outlet.
She had clipped said wings the moment they had begun growing, and had continued to do so every time they regenerated. If he took to the air, there was no telling how much damage he could do before she was able to stop him. Their fight had already made a large mark on the area around them after all.
Rivers of boiling blood flooded the streets below them, dying the stone a crimson red. Chunks of flesh and scales lay strewn about on the pavement, the smallest the size of an apple, while the largest was the size of a carriage. Aylin briefly wondered how this settlement’s street cleaner’s would fare with this mess.
Truly, it looked like a scene straight out of a Loviatar worshiper’s greatest dreams.
And yet, even with the numerous lethal wounds she had inflicted upon his person, this Lung was still fighting with the ferocity of a wild beast. Further still, he had yet to truly inflict any damage upon her as well, all of his previous efforts amounting to scuffs on her silver armor, they were at an impasse. And while normally Aylin would be more than fine with testing the limits of his healing factor, she did not have the time.
Already their battle had damaged the surrounding buildings irreparably, the fires her foe had created had long since escaped his control and were raging wildly around them. Aylin imagined that were she further away from the snarling beast, she would hear the sounds of the citizens of the city screaming in panic as the blaze jumped from building to building. And while she wished to assist in putting out said blaze, she could not leave the area without forcing the dragon-man to follow, putting even more people in harm’s way.
No, this had gone on more than long enough, she would have to end this here and now. Luckily she had just the thing to deal with his healing factor, as much as it pained her to use it.
The Aasimar’s wings flapped furiously as she gained height, Lung jumping up and swiping at her in a feeble attempt to catch her and bring her back down. She hovered in the air, well out of reach of the beast’s grasping claws, and held a hand to her chest. She whispered a small prayer to her mother for strength, before infusing her limb with the same type of magic that had been the cause of all of her recent pain.
Aylin despised necromancy like nothing else; The school of magic, while not inherently evil, had been the source of her pain for over a century. The combined magical efforts of both Ketheric and Balthazar had caused her a near unending amount of grief, and she would rather do anything but delve into the same pools as those two twisted monsters.
Still, in situations like this, sometimes it was better to lay one's grievances aside for the greater good.
Aylin’s wings flapped as she pointed her hand at the rampaging beast below her, sickly green spreading around her fingertips as she focused her magic to a point. She checked her aim to ensure she was on target. She would rather not have to cast this more than once.
“Nihil!” She intoned furiously. A bolt of necrotic energy shot from her fingertips, soaring down toward the roaring man-turned-beast. It slammed squarely into his scaly chest, a pulse of magic flowing outward from the point of impact until his entire body was infused with her spell and Aylin smiled in satisfaction as her spell went to work immediately.
The wounds that Aylin had inflicted had been rapidly healing even as she prepared her spell. The moment she cast it however, said healing stopped in its tracks, necrotic magic seeping into the wounds and preventing regeneration of any sort as the Aasimar smirked in satisfaction.
Chill Touch was a relatively minor spell, a cantrip more than anything, and yet it was extremely useful when dealing with creatures like vampires and trolls; creatures that regenerated quickly enough to be an issue to out down fully.
When cast, the magic of the spell seeped into all of the wounds the victim possessed, suffusing them with necrotic energy and stopping all but the most powerful regeneration. And while it was true that some higher class fiends and aberrations could shrug off the spell like it wasn’t even cast, the man before her was none of these things.
In other words, Lung would no longer regenerate for so long as the spell was active, around half a minute. More than enough time to separate his head from his shoulders.
Her blade shined brightly with moonlight as she brandished it once more, infusing it with her will, and as Lung looked down at his wounds in angry confusion, she folded her wings and jetted straight down at him.
He noticed her approach far too late, hands coming up in a surprised attempt to defend himself. Aylin’s blade flashed as it cut through the air, blood spurting in all directions as her striked connected exactly where she wanted them to..
A pair of large arms and a similarly large pair of legs went flying as Aylin completed her attack. Lung gave a roar of tremendous pain as the limbs were severed, fire spewing from his maw ineffectual as he fell to the ground with nothing to support him.
Whatever strange ability had imbued him began to fade, his body shrinking as scale became flesh once more. Aylin imagined that her own spell had something to do with that but she could not be sure.
No matter. Her opponent was defeated before her, it was time to end this.
Aylin planted her boot firmly on Lung’s chest, eliciting a groan of pain from the shrinking man. He squirmed lightly in an attempt to throw her off, but she merely pushed her foot down harder, bones creaking underneath his skin. “Cease your struggles wretch, you are defeated, have some decorum.”
Her remark only caused his thrashing to begin anew and Aylin sighed in disappointment, “It is truly a shame that such magnificent abilities belong to one such as you. Worry not, you will not have to live with the shame of defeat any longer.” She raised her blade above her head with both hands, ignoring Lung’s renewed struggles as she sufficed her blade with burning moonlight.
Just as she plunged the burning blade downward to truly ensure her victory, she was stopped by a voice calling out to her from behind.
“Wait! Don’t kill him!”
The tip of Aylin’s weapon stopped mere inches from Lung’s chest, blood dripping down onto his chest from her blade. She turned her head slowly to the voice, spying the oddly dressed teenager she had rescued making her way towards her in a jog.
As the teen reached Aylin, she stopped, fist clenched tightly by her sides as yellow lenses stared at the Aasimar preparing to strike down her defeated foe.
“You can’t kill him!” She all but shouted, “It’s not right!”
Aylin noted the cloud of swarming insects following the girl’s every motion. Clearly she was the one responsible for the obscuring black cloud upon Aylin’s arrival. And while the insects would do less than nothing against the Aasimar’s lunar barrier, she couldn’t help but be curious about something.
“Tell me girl,” Aylin pinned the strangely dressed teen in place with her gaze, ignoring the insects buzzing around them frantically, “Why are you so intent on sparing one as craven as this worm? Though I have been in this strange plane naught but a few hours, I can see the evil inscribed on his very soul plain as day. He is not worthy of your compassion nor my mercy. So tell me...why?”
The teen’s voice shook with emotion, “Because that’s not how heroes do things! If we kill every villain we beat, t-then we're no better than them!”
The low buzz around them began climbing to a roar, and Aylin looked around at the growing cloud of insects gathering around them.
The girl’s hand went to her belt, retrieving a small cylindrical object there that she pointed at Aylin shakily, “I-I won’t let you execute him! I’ll hold you off until the other heroes get here if I have to.”
Though she could not see the girl’s face, Aylin could feel the conviction in her words. This child would truly attempt to stop her from executing her foe despite knowing first hand just how futile her struggles would be. It was…admirable. If a bit foolish.
Villains. Heroes. What a strange place she had found herself in.
Aylin sighed, sheathing her sword on her back as she stepped off of the groaning body underneath her, “Very well child. Your unwavering courage in the face of overwhelming odds has convinced me. Take pride in that, it is a rare occasion that I change my mind so willingly on matters such as this. So long as this man faces justice, my Oath shall stand and I will not be forced to seek him out. Do with that what you will.”
The teen tilted her head in confusion at Aylin’s words, before she suddenly gasped, taking a step back in apparent fear, and Aylin could feel the man behind her begin to rise on freshly regenerated legs. She turned to face her rising foe.
“Ones such as you need to learn when they are beaten.” She stated plainly. Lung growled in anger as he took a shaky step forward and Aylin just sighed. She didn’t bother to unsheath her blade, her foe was weak enough that there was simply no reason to.
She raised her hand, pointing it at the healing man as she manipulated her magic. Lung, seeing that her hand was glowing just as it was earlier, attempted to retreat, stumbling backwards as he tried to get away.
He wasn’t fast enough. “Impero Tibi!” A bolt of violet light hit him square in the forehead.
Lung’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and he dropped like a rock, falling face first on the pavement in front of the two of them. He did not rise again.
The bugs around her were agitated once more, “Did you just-?!” The masked teen began angrily.
Aylin held up a gauntleted hand to forestall her anger, “He is merely asleep. I would not go back on my word once given. He will awaken in several hours or when awoken purposefully by someone.”
“Oh…” That appeased her, and Aylin smirked as all of her earlier courage fled immediately.
“What is your name child?” She asked suddenly as she turned her attention fully to the teen.
Said teen was befuddled by her question, “What?”
“Your name. Your title.” Aylin repeated, “What am I to refer to you as?”
“Oh! Um…I don’t have one yet.” The apparently nameless teen said quietly.
“...I see.” She did not actually. This place became stranger and stranger by the minute. Aylin sighed, “Well then, I cannot keep referring to you as child. Perhaps I should give you a name. If that suits you?”
“...Sure?” She sounded hesitant.
Aylin thought for a moment, debating on what little she knew about the girl before her, taking her continence and skills into account as she did so. After moments of deliberation, she had it.
“Monarch.” She spoke clearly, “Somewhat simple, but I feel it is most appropriate. You command those insects like a queen would her subjects, and the courage you showed against me is formidable indeed, befitting royalty.”
The teen tilted her head, “Monarch…” She tested the name, before nodding in satisfaction, “I like it.”
Alyin grinned at her approval before turning back to the sleeping Lung. The man’s arms and legs had healed considerably, having regrown up to the elbow and knee respectively and showing no signs of stopping. Aylin estimated they would be fully regrown in less than twenty minutes or so at this rate. “Now then friend. What shall we do with this poor excuse for drag-”
The Aasimar stopped mid word as she felt a familiar sensation run up her body once more. She looked down at her hands, taking in the blue glow now surrounding them. She recognized this magic, wrapping so tightly around her and taking her very soul within its grasp. A smile flitted upon her face as she realized what had happened.
It was the same magic that had transported her to this realm, but much gentler. Her new friends had found her it seemed. She was returning home.
Aylin looked towards the newly christened Monarch, smiling lightly as the teen looked at her in worry apparent in her posture.
“Worry not. I am simply returning to the place I once came. It seems I will have to cut our conversation short.”
Monarch’s posture was panicked, “But wait! What do I do with Lung? What if he wakes up? I can’t fight him!”
Aylin shook her head as the magic began rolling up her body, wrapping her in it’s comforting presence, “He will not awaken so long as nobody attempts to do so purposefully. And our battle caused quite the commotion, I am sure somebody is on their way to render aid.”
As if on cue, the sounds of heavy footsteps, clearly made by some mounted beast, was heard heading in their direction.
“Monarch.” Aylin grabbed the teen’s attention as the magic began to encompass her face, “Raise your chin high, you did well. Not many would have the courage to stand up to me as you did. You have the possibility to become a truly formidable warrior in the future, should you continue to keep your sense of justice.”
Monarch stared at her at her statement, before nodding firmly. And just before the magic overtook her completely, she heard two whispered words.
“Thank you.”
Aylin smiled as she was sent hurtling through the void once more.
~~~
Cheers surrounded her as she exited the shell of magic. She looked around, recognizing the infrastructure of Moonrise Towers, damaged as it was, and she smiled widely. She was home.
She moved her gaze over to where the cheers were coming from, and her smile widened as she recognized the group she had been fighting with moments before she had been torn away. Gale was panting slightly, clearly having been the one to cast the spell that had retrieved her. Other than that however, the lot of them seemed to be in relatively good health, smiles on their faces as they waved her over.
Aylin couldn’t help but notice that the ex-Sharran was nowhere to be found, but she had a feeling she’d see her as soon as the festivities died down. Those raised in the dark lady’s cloister hated crowds like nothing else after all.
“My friends!” She greeted cheerfully as she approached, “It is good to see you all unharmed. It is even better to see you managed to return me to my rightful realm once more. I had been worried I would have been stuck in the strange place I had found myself in. You have my gratitude, though I hope it wasn’t too difficult.”
“Well it was actually rather simple actually. If a bit magic intensive.” Gale began eagerly, You see, due to the effect on the weave all of you Aasimar have, I was able to use a scrying spell to-”
“Gale.” The redheaded elf gave her lover a look, “Let Aylin rest a bit before you go into lecture mode. She looks like she’s had quite the ordeal herself.” Ah, she was still covered in blood. Oh well, none of it was her own at the very least.
The Wizard coughed, looking away, “Yes. Well, suffice to say it would have been a tragedy to have you lost to the Sword Coast the moment you returned. We are glad to have you back Aylin. ”
“AYLIN!”
Gale smirked lightly as Aylin turned to the familiar voice with widened eyes, “Some of us more than others…”
“Isobel…”
As her lover rushed towards her, she removed her helmet, wings disappearing from her back as she opened her arms. Her beloved crashed into her, arms wrapping tightly around her back as if she were scared that this was all some illusion.
Tears rolled down her face as Isobel held her close. She whispered profuse thanks to her mother, to anyone who was responsible for this miracle. For returning her Isobel to her alive and whole.
As much as she enjoyed the embrace, Aylin wished to lay eyes upon the one she had given her heart. She lightly placed her hand’s on Isobel’s shoulders, pushing her back gently until they were face to face.
She looked just as Aylin remembered her and her palms came up to shakily caress the skin of her cheeks. Isobel leaned into her touch, sighing softly as a single tear rolled down her cheek, immediately wiped away by Aylin’s gentle hands.
“My love… you were dead. I saw your body! How is this possible?” It was almost too good to be true, and for a moment, Aylin imagined she had fallen victim to another cruel trick.
But the soft skin against her palms felt so very real, as did the heat radiating from said skin. She allowed herself to hope, just this once, that this wasn’t simply an attempt to fool her. To get her to lower her guard before everything turned bad once more.
“I’m here… and so are you.” Isobel said quietly, silver eyes brimming with tears of joy as she brought her hands up to wrap gently around Aylin’s own, “And my father…h-he can’t hurt us any longer. We’re free.”
“So it is true?” Aylin asked hopefully, “Ketheric has been defeated in my absence? We are no longer haunted by him?”
A laugh off to the side startled her. She looked over to find a massive red tiefling approaching them. The woman was wrapped in leather and carried a large battleaxe on her back. Heat seemed to roil off of her form and from the small metal holes in her shoulder, wisps of steam rising into the air around her body to curl off into the chilly night.
The woman grinned widely, “Did we defeat him? We kicked that old bastard's ass! Him and that Lord of Bones he called a patron! Fucker posessed the old man’s body but we still sent him packing!”
Aylin’s eyes widened at the statement. Today was a day of surprises it seemed. She had been freed from her century long prison, sent to a strange realm to do battle with a false dragon, and upon her return, she found that her compatriots had beaten the god of necromancy in combat.
“It was an exhilarating fight.” Lae’zel agreed at the tiefling’s side, “It is a rare occasion one gets to do battle with the avatar of a god. Though I would not mind if we did not have a repeat performance.”
“Aw come on Lae’zel. What are the chances that we have to fight another god?” The tiefling laughed.
“Damn it Karlach! Don’t tempt fate like that. You know Tymora doesn’t favor us!”
Karlach turned to face the horned man who had spoken, “Oh come off it Wyll. If it wasn’t for fate, you’d still be chasing me up and down the Sword Coast! She’s got to like us at least a bit!” she wrapped an arm around his shoulder, bringing him roughly against her body as her grin widened, “This little group formed out of pure circumstance! Seems almost too good to be true sometimes.”
“Oh joy. Our merry little band of weirdos wasn’t fated to be.” A well dressed pale man with snow white hair made his way over to the group with a small smirk on his face, “If I had known that there was an opportunity to escape this fate I would have taken it the moment it appeared. Sigh…Oh well. I guess I’ll simply have to put up with the lot of you for now.”
“D-did you just say sigh Astarion?” Asked the bard at Gale’s side. She stared at the white haired man like he was some sort of fascinating creature, “Like, say the actual word instead of just sighing?”
Astarion smirked, a hand resting on his hip, “Of course I did darling. How else was I supposed to express my exasperation with the situation at hand?”
“By actually sighing?” She asked sarcastically, green eyes rolling in their sockets.
Astarion tsked, “That might work for you Evelyn, but I’m afraid that I have a bit more class than the likes of you. If I am to express displeasure, I refuse to inhale the same air as the rest of you ne'er do wells. It’s bad for my health, you see. All the…dirt and other nasty stuff gets into my lungs and causes all sorts of congestion. Just terrible.” He examined his fingernails disinterestedly as the rest of the group stared at him with varying levels of exasperation and amusement.
Evelyn took a deep breath through her nose before, “Gale, hold me back.”
“Wait wait wait!”
“Dammit Astarion!”
“Tas’ki! Evelyn, cease this madness!”
“Haha! This is what I’m talking about! Get him Soldier!”
As the enraged bard attempted to lunge at the white-haired rogue and her companions did their best to restrain her before she managed to actually skewer the smirking man, Aylin laughed quietly, burying her head into her lover’s shoulder as they embraced once more.
And as the celebration began around them once more, Aylin sighed in her beloved’s embrace. For the first time in a hundred years, all seemed right with the world. She simply ignored the feeling inside of her that told her the threat was far from gone as she pulled Isobel tighter against her.
She was owed at least one night of respite after everything she had been through.