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no_true_pairTitle: Magic-Twisted Fates
Fandom: Forgotten Realms/Legend of Drizzt
Prompt: March Thirty-First - 3 helps turn 4's bad day around
Content advisory: Time Travel, Changing History, Polyamory
Characters/Relationship: Sharrevaliir (Canon-inspired OC) & Catti-brie
Word Count: 1,266
First, there had only been confusion. Catti-brie had used Taulmaril's lower limb to nudge the item away for better visibility, having been certain it was a magical trap. She was all but certain Alustriel would do her very patient explanation of why touching a magical item with another magical item was always a bad idea, but first, she had to get back to her Lady.
Worse, to her Ranger, knowing how he would be tearing apart the region to find her. Their enemies would not have survived her vanishing, Catti-brie knew without a doubt.
Just as surely, she knew this place was nowhere near the Silver Marches. The trees were different, and the air felt more like summer than the hesitant spring she'd been in. She pushed herself to her feet, double-checked that Taulmaril was fine, and sighted for game trails that were more pronounced. One of those would surely take her closer to a village, after all, in time.
It wasn't the sound or scent on the wind. It was the lack of them.
Catti-brie had studied with one of Mielikki's favorite rangers for too long to not realize that the silence of an area was more dangerous than most sounds. That was when she took note of the fact that the smell of the woods was not quite right.
She was not as proficient in climbing trees as Drizzt Do'Urden, but her Lady had given her a ring that let her rise to a level where she could walk on a sturdy bough and appraise the land below. Just past where a stream and hillock narrowed the path, she made out a band of… elves most likely. Closer to her, though, was a space that seemed empty within the trees and meadow that opened past that point.
Too empty for a bright, warm day like this. The elves were not enough disturbance to make that emptiness.
Before she finished processing the conscious awareness, she had an arrow on the string, seeking the center of the emptiness. If she was wrong, the arrow would return to her in a few minutes. If she wasn't —
— she might put a few elves in her debt.
At this distance, Sharrevaliir could not hear the sizzle in the air left by the streak of silver that rained down from a tree beyond the pinch-point ahead. He could not be sure what the streak, or the two that followed, were, but silverfire was something he equated with safety, danger, and family. It was enough like that for him to put aside all of his thoughts of rituals and tracking.
And he listened.
"Andelver, what do you make of it?" he called to his eldest, knowing the man to be professionally paranoid.
"Magic… more? The woods feel wrong now."
The rest of the band halted, well back from the bottleneck of the trail they were on, and Sharr retreated to be behind the defenses his wizard-sons were already setting their minds to.
Nor was it long before the magic ahead was brought crashing down, as the orc band's patience gave way to seeing their prey falter… and the death from above that had smashed through the war leader's skull.
Catti-brie dropped to the ground carefully, once the last orc fell. She headed straight for the glen, intent on meeting the elves. She needed to know just where she was, and since magic had been thrown around, she might even be able to charm a wizard into spiriting her back to the city.
She knew blood-lust, though, and stopped well short of where they were checking bodies. One, one of the taller ones, turned her way, and despite the strange armor, she knew good and well that was one of her Lady's own sons!
"Ghael?"
"Have we met?"
"I was fair certain, unless ye be Elin."
"He's over there," the Tall One said. "I am Ghael, but I have no memory of you." He gave a roguish smile her way. "I promise I do try to remember bold women."
She didn't really process the half-flirt for what it was, as her entire world devolved back to confusion. How could he not know —
"Donnae be thinkin' me daft, but what year is it? North or dwarf calendar, please."
"Two sixty-six, by the North Reckoning. Year of the Pointed Bone."
"Moradin's beard!" she swore, sitting right down on her rump. Her ranger was but a wee bairn being watched over by his viper sister! This was spellwork far beyond any cantrip she'd mastered so far!
"You… look distressed," Ghael said, most unhelpfully. "Let me get my father."
"Your da? Your da is… bless Mystra, then, as had tae have had a hand in twistin' that spell!"
Sharr waited until the others, not of their village, had decided their paths home before coming to sit by the fire with the strange warrior. He'd spoken briefly to her earlier, but he was the leader, and had to see to all of this.
"Catti-brie."
"Sharrevaliir."
"Just use Sharr. The long form is a mess to say, and no better in the dwarven brogue," he said, giving her a smile. She returned it, but it didn't touch her eyes at all.
He offered a piece of bread to her, watched as she gladly ate it — slowly, showing she knew its properties — as he sized her up. Human in all appearance, elf-crafted magical bow and quiver, armor that was mithral and finely made at that… She was an enigma, one that had stated he would have died.
He could credit that as truth. He would have been first past the bottleneck, and taken the full brunt of the ambush.
Now he needed to find a way to make it better for her. "You need an archmage. I happen to know a few," he said at last.
"Aye, ye would. Closely even," she said, eyes darting to where the four Tall Ones were still conferring over what to do once they had their father safely home.
Sharr laughed, bright and bold, at that humor from her. "I think I like you, Catti-brie of the dwarves." She had not offered a clan name, but then, he knew about dodging names. "What do you wish of me? Passage to one of those archmages? Or a safe place to see if the magic unwraps on its own accord?"
"If I may, I'd prefer tae go tae one as not yer consort," Catti said, tipping her chin up. "I know her in me own time, and it would be stranger for me tae be depending on her than one o' the others."
"It will be done," Sharr promised her. He reached for her hand, and she gave it, to seal that bargain. "Catti-brie, even if Mystra did twist the spell, or not, I am grateful to you, to be able to live another day. I have a son, still a child, that I wish to see grow strong."
"Be certain as ye tell the cleric then," she offered as advice, and he nodded solemnly.
"Meant to. Kept putting it off. It was said in full hearing of the whole Hunt earlier, though."
"Good. Then even if today has been the worst day in a long while, some good came of it," she said, relaxing. "I'll trust in Mystra's daughter, whichever one, tae see me home tae my time."
"And when that happens, I will be looking forward to knowing you better," Sharr said, a quiet promise in his words to keep surviving.
Maybe… maybe this was the best to make of a magical mishap.
Fandom: Forgotten Realms/Legend of Drizzt
Prompt: March Thirty-First - 3 helps turn 4's bad day around
Content advisory: Time Travel, Changing History, Polyamory
Characters/Relationship: Sharrevaliir (Canon-inspired OC) & Catti-brie
Word Count: 1,266
First, there had only been confusion. Catti-brie had used Taulmaril's lower limb to nudge the item away for better visibility, having been certain it was a magical trap. She was all but certain Alustriel would do her very patient explanation of why touching a magical item with another magical item was always a bad idea, but first, she had to get back to her Lady.
Worse, to her Ranger, knowing how he would be tearing apart the region to find her. Their enemies would not have survived her vanishing, Catti-brie knew without a doubt.
Just as surely, she knew this place was nowhere near the Silver Marches. The trees were different, and the air felt more like summer than the hesitant spring she'd been in. She pushed herself to her feet, double-checked that Taulmaril was fine, and sighted for game trails that were more pronounced. One of those would surely take her closer to a village, after all, in time.
It wasn't the sound or scent on the wind. It was the lack of them.
Catti-brie had studied with one of Mielikki's favorite rangers for too long to not realize that the silence of an area was more dangerous than most sounds. That was when she took note of the fact that the smell of the woods was not quite right.
She was not as proficient in climbing trees as Drizzt Do'Urden, but her Lady had given her a ring that let her rise to a level where she could walk on a sturdy bough and appraise the land below. Just past where a stream and hillock narrowed the path, she made out a band of… elves most likely. Closer to her, though, was a space that seemed empty within the trees and meadow that opened past that point.
Too empty for a bright, warm day like this. The elves were not enough disturbance to make that emptiness.
Before she finished processing the conscious awareness, she had an arrow on the string, seeking the center of the emptiness. If she was wrong, the arrow would return to her in a few minutes. If she wasn't —
— she might put a few elves in her debt.
At this distance, Sharrevaliir could not hear the sizzle in the air left by the streak of silver that rained down from a tree beyond the pinch-point ahead. He could not be sure what the streak, or the two that followed, were, but silverfire was something he equated with safety, danger, and family. It was enough like that for him to put aside all of his thoughts of rituals and tracking.
And he listened.
"Andelver, what do you make of it?" he called to his eldest, knowing the man to be professionally paranoid.
"Magic… more? The woods feel wrong now."
The rest of the band halted, well back from the bottleneck of the trail they were on, and Sharr retreated to be behind the defenses his wizard-sons were already setting their minds to.
Nor was it long before the magic ahead was brought crashing down, as the orc band's patience gave way to seeing their prey falter… and the death from above that had smashed through the war leader's skull.
Catti-brie dropped to the ground carefully, once the last orc fell. She headed straight for the glen, intent on meeting the elves. She needed to know just where she was, and since magic had been thrown around, she might even be able to charm a wizard into spiriting her back to the city.
She knew blood-lust, though, and stopped well short of where they were checking bodies. One, one of the taller ones, turned her way, and despite the strange armor, she knew good and well that was one of her Lady's own sons!
"Ghael?"
"Have we met?"
"I was fair certain, unless ye be Elin."
"He's over there," the Tall One said. "I am Ghael, but I have no memory of you." He gave a roguish smile her way. "I promise I do try to remember bold women."
She didn't really process the half-flirt for what it was, as her entire world devolved back to confusion. How could he not know —
"Donnae be thinkin' me daft, but what year is it? North or dwarf calendar, please."
"Two sixty-six, by the North Reckoning. Year of the Pointed Bone."
"Moradin's beard!" she swore, sitting right down on her rump. Her ranger was but a wee bairn being watched over by his viper sister! This was spellwork far beyond any cantrip she'd mastered so far!
"You… look distressed," Ghael said, most unhelpfully. "Let me get my father."
"Your da? Your da is… bless Mystra, then, as had tae have had a hand in twistin' that spell!"
Sharr waited until the others, not of their village, had decided their paths home before coming to sit by the fire with the strange warrior. He'd spoken briefly to her earlier, but he was the leader, and had to see to all of this.
"Catti-brie."
"Sharrevaliir."
"Just use Sharr. The long form is a mess to say, and no better in the dwarven brogue," he said, giving her a smile. She returned it, but it didn't touch her eyes at all.
He offered a piece of bread to her, watched as she gladly ate it — slowly, showing she knew its properties — as he sized her up. Human in all appearance, elf-crafted magical bow and quiver, armor that was mithral and finely made at that… She was an enigma, one that had stated he would have died.
He could credit that as truth. He would have been first past the bottleneck, and taken the full brunt of the ambush.
Now he needed to find a way to make it better for her. "You need an archmage. I happen to know a few," he said at last.
"Aye, ye would. Closely even," she said, eyes darting to where the four Tall Ones were still conferring over what to do once they had their father safely home.
Sharr laughed, bright and bold, at that humor from her. "I think I like you, Catti-brie of the dwarves." She had not offered a clan name, but then, he knew about dodging names. "What do you wish of me? Passage to one of those archmages? Or a safe place to see if the magic unwraps on its own accord?"
"If I may, I'd prefer tae go tae one as not yer consort," Catti said, tipping her chin up. "I know her in me own time, and it would be stranger for me tae be depending on her than one o' the others."
"It will be done," Sharr promised her. He reached for her hand, and she gave it, to seal that bargain. "Catti-brie, even if Mystra did twist the spell, or not, I am grateful to you, to be able to live another day. I have a son, still a child, that I wish to see grow strong."
"Be certain as ye tell the cleric then," she offered as advice, and he nodded solemnly.
"Meant to. Kept putting it off. It was said in full hearing of the whole Hunt earlier, though."
"Good. Then even if today has been the worst day in a long while, some good came of it," she said, relaxing. "I'll trust in Mystra's daughter, whichever one, tae see me home tae my time."
"And when that happens, I will be looking forward to knowing you better," Sharr said, a quiet promise in his words to keep surviving.
Maybe… maybe this was the best to make of a magical mishap.