A trail of retribution

[silke_rahn]

Silke after a few side excursions finds herself looking over the ruins of a village not far from the one she crew up in. Though she was nearly one thousand feet above the still smoldering ruins Silke could still see that it was a village of surface dwelling Drow. From her vantage point on the small mountain that overlooked the village she could see that the settlement had been attacked by other Drow.

"So this is what you brought me across the veil between the worlds for. I am to be your angel of vengence," Silke said under her breath.

Silke made her way cautiously and quietly down through the forest that clothed the small mountain on the northern edge of the High Forest. After several hours she was at the outskirts of the village.

"No wall, no palisade, what were these Drow thinking?" she said as she noticed that there was not any physical defensive barrier around the village.

"mmph...ohh..." came some moaning from a near by shell of a cottage.

With her bow nocked and ready Silke scoured and searched the wreckage for the source of the sound.

[Tyrmer]

OOC: PH34R3 T3H HOLY TIN CAN OF DOOM!

As Silke reaches the village, a clanking noise can be heard coming her way, the repetitive, non-rythmic nosie of plate metal striking plate metal over and ove again.

[silke_rahn]

Fading into the shadows Silke listens to hear if the sounds are getting closer. As she does this she still concentrates on the the source of the moaning.

Stepping over the bashed and splintered front door, its panels of local hard wood splayed out like a deck of cards thrown into the room. She looked around the gloom of the interior. What little light that filtered in through holes in the thatch of the roof or the empty openings that once were window revealed broken, battered, and mangled funiture strewn around like one of the spring and summer time violent whirling wind storms of her new home had blow through the small cottage's main room.

"This place looks as if an EF-5 hit it," mused Silke soft and quietly to herself.

"uhnnn...ummmph..." the moans sound as if they came from the sleeping loft above the main room of the little cottage.

Seeing the ladder that led up to the loft, Silke decided to unnock her bow and replaced the synthetic, composite material shafted arrow tipped with a tripple razor sharp bladed broadhead back into the empty slot of her bow quiver. The quiver held seven more arrows that were the twins to the one she quietly snapped back into place. The bow and its arrows were some of the few concessions to she made to her new home's technology before she came back through the Stull, Kansas portal.

The bow was a recurved synthetic composite material longbow built for her by a custom bowyer who was an artist in his field and lived east of State Line Road in Kansas City. It was as strong as steel and was as good as most any mastercrafted bow available in the Realms. That it was not enchanted did not bother much as she preferred to exercise her skills rather than relying entirely on magery.

As for Silke's armor it was from this world. She acquired it two years before her people's exodust to the other world. It was a special set of mastercrafted shadow armor enchanted to enhance its protective qualities and to enhance her stealthiness. It was composed of articulated laminated leather and elven chain. As she moved it made nary a whisper of sound. She was so accostomed to wearing by now that it moved with her as if it were part of her.

Silke after slinging her bow drew her large dagger. It was nearly the length of a shortsword and matched the Cut and Thrust Sword that rested in its scabbard attached to a baldric that was slung over her shoulder so it rested on her left hip. Both blades were made for her by a custom bladesmith that made cutlery of any kind in the time between planting and havesting on a farm just ten miles north and east of the town of Wamego in Kansas. The pair were made of high tensle, high carbon, spring steel that had been constructed in the Damascus style. The bladesmith had hammered and folded the steel of each blade nearly nine hundred times. Once they were gound and polished the beauty of the wavey patterns of the layers of steel were a testament to the craftsman's skill and artistry. The edges of the blades were so sharp that they could cut just by being looked at.

Silke left the Cut and Thrust Sword in its scabbard and carried the long dagger at the ready in case she was jumped when she reached the top of the ladder and could peer into the loft. Agonizingly quietly and slowly she made her way up the ladder one rung at a time. Always her gaze was upward while her ears, nose, and other senses were straining to alert her to any possible danger.

"mmmmpppph...uhmmm..." the moans came again and sounded like they came from the farside of the loft.

[Tyrmer]

OOC: Nice idea, it's been done before though .

IC: Into the clearing of the village comes a heavily armoured figure in black plate mail, with many devices of silver worked onto it, strapped across it's back are two gigantic curved swords. It looks around the village in puzzlement, not noticing the invisible Silke. It cocks its head as it hears the moans, and shuffles quickly over to the loft and, with surprising agility for one in such heavy armour, climbs the ladder and vaults into the loft.

OOC: Obviously Silke is still on the top of the ladder, dodge or be hit as you see fit. Though I'm presuming a Shadowdancer would be able to dodge something as simple as a guy barging into her.

[silke_rahn]

OOC: Sorry about the earlier version of this I got you mistaken for another character/ player that contacted me privately

IC: Silke lept into the air, summer sulted, and landed onto the floor of the loft with all the grace and finesse of a cat. When she landed she was facing towards the top of the ladder. The sounds of the armored person getting closer and nearing the ladder.

Silke momentarily had a flashback to another place and time. She was in a mottled grey, tan, and green uniform, wearing dense synthetic cloth body armor with special high density ceramic trama plates inserted into pockets to protect her vital organs, and armed with the weapons issued to the army she was serving in. The small village in the desert country with two great rivers and been the seen of heavy fighting. Silke was the point person for the patrol of Military Police she was assigned to. The patrol was doing security check behind the advance of the infantry when it was ambushed by guerilla fighters from a house not much different than this little cottage except the other house was of sunbaked mud brick and this cottage was of rough cut field stone.

Silke led the patrol to the safety of a privacy wall that seperated the street form the house. Then with help of two other MPs she entered the yard beyond the wall and once on the house side of the wall she did her hide in plain sight trick. Quietly she made her way up to the rear door of that house. The ambushers were still laying down suppressive fire into the little dirt alley just beyond the wall.

When Silke made it to the rear door of the mud brick house. It was slight ajar. Overhead the barrel of the ambusher's weapon was sticking out of a window that looked out onto the alley. It blossumed with flame and roared like a baby dragon every time the shooter fired into the alley.

Before opening that door and investigating what was beyond, Silke concentrated on blocking out any distractions so she could sense the possible dangers that lay just the otherside of the thin metal barrier. Then slowly she opened the door and slid into the duskily lit room. The windows let in some sunlight from outside, but their size prevented the sunlight from fully illuminating the interior. Silke cautiously and stealthily made her way through a room that was the house's kitchen. Passing through the arch that led into a short hall she could here the roar of the automatic weapon from above. She quietly tread her way towards the stairs at the left side of the small hall. Just as she reached the foot of the small stair case the front door of the house at the other end of the small hallway from the kitchen burst open. In ran a short sort of round arab in blue jeans, sneakers, and tan shirt, with his head fully wrapped in the local head covering except for an opening to see out of. This guerilla was carrying the standard sysmbol of insurgency known world wide on Earth, the AK-47.

Silke did not have much time to react then as she did not have time now. On that day in that little Iraqi town somewhere north and west of Baghdad she just slipped a curved blade shortsword she carried with her from its scabbard with one hand while craddling her M-4 carbine with the other. As the guerilla fighter ran up the stairs toward his comrade Silke with the swiftness of a striking scorpian stabbed the man through his heart. The narrow blade of her shortsword went between his ribs and cut through his heart's left chamber just as the heart made a beat. The sudden puncture into the chamber cause the man's heart to burst and the hapless guerilla never made it one step up the stairs.

Likewise here and now Silke's catlike reflexes reacted mostly on instinct rather than thought. As the armored person made his or her way up the ladder toward the loft Silke waited poised to strike.

Silke waited crouched in a shadow watching the where the ladder met the floor of the loft. What or whom ever it was made its way up the the ladder. The rungs creeked with every motion as did the so far unknown creature's armor.

Quietly she slid deeper into the shadow her dagger at the ready. When the person topped the ladder and stepped onto the floor of the loft, Silke with reflexes born from years of combat both on Toril and on Terra. She used a take down move she learned when she was in the military of her new home. With it she used the weight of the human fighter against him and tackled him to the floor. As soon as his back rested on the loft's floor her dagger was at his throat.

With the razor sharp edge of her dagger resting gentlely on his adam's apple. Whispering into his right ear with her lips the width of a butterfly's wing from it; Silke said in Common, "Who are you and why did you try to rush me?"

[Tyrmer]

OOC: Ok now I have some IC, as I said in the OOC thread could you change your post AFTER this one though? It's just bad ettiquette to make presumptions about a character's actions.

IC: The figure stops short as a previously unseen asailant appears with a knife to it. Without even an intake of breath it pushes forward onto the knife blade which goes straight into the crack without meeting resistance from sinew or bone.

[silke_rahn]

OOC: Sorry Tyrmer, I did not read your profile at first and thought you were the Duegar played by Elrohir, my bad.

IC: Silke waited for him to answer her question. She did not want to kill a stranger if she did not have too. She had done enough of that in the past twenty years first here on Toril and later on Earth.

[Here on Toril it was during the period of war between Luskin and Neverwinter. She was a scout for Neverwinter and led a mixed troop of rangers, rogues, and some that were both. In fact some of her troop were like her, shadow dancers.

On Earth her world of exile she was a member of a military police company and mostly escorted supply convoys or did security patrols in urban areas in Iraq and Afghanistan when she was on active duty. She did not mind the military service it allowed her to better learn about the human's of Earth and to learn some of their languages and customs. After her first stint in the Earth years from 1987 to 1993 she earned the money to go to college. During her college years and until her summons back to Toril she served in the National Guard of the state she called home.

By fall of 2002 she had earned herself a doctorate in Sociology and Anthropology specializing in comparative religions and mythos. It was while teaching in a univeristy in Kansas that Eilistraee called her back to Toril to seek out who attacked this village and some others Silke had seen. Silke had only been back from her last tour to the Middle-East a year when the Avitar of the Dark Maiden appeared to her in her office and requested that she return to Toril and the Realms.]

Now here she was on the floor of a peasant's sleeping loft with her dagger resting on a man's throat while resting her body on his. She still waited for him to answer her.

[Elrohir]

The air around the blasted and wrecked village begain to dence and Krackle with energy that seemed to pull on the mind. A dark blue portal vortex opens and the sounds of some one screaming comes from within getting louder and louder.

"aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!" *THUD*Umph*Groan* And a thunderous clap as the portal shut above the figure.


*Groans even more. then all the sudden the short figure jumps up quickly to his feet. SNaping his hands out beside him as the wreath in Ethreal blue energies. A grim face from under a dark red hood A fresh great scar across his left cheek and eye still bleeding from a previous battle. Grizzled teeth gnash within a blood soaked White beard Barely any of the black studded leather armor left on his body as it too was streaked with many battle wounds and blood. The dwarf hoped around alittle looking for the next enemy. but soon he stoped the energy burning weapons in his hands faded as he pulled back his hood revealing a strangely tatooed bald head and a deep charcole grey skin. A smile spread across his face as he realized.

"FREEEEE FREEE IM FREEEE FREEEE AT LAST HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAAHHAHAHHA IM FREE FREEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! etc."

The dwarf sang a loud and triumphant song of freedom in his native durgar tongue. Dancing all around amidst the rubble near one of the last few standing buildings. (((i.e the sleeping oft the two of you are in)))

[silke_rahn]

The sounds from below nearly distracted Silke, but she covered the human's mouth with her free hand and whispered into his ear, "Quiet, don't make a single sound. We are not alone."

In the shadows of the loft the moans came a gain.

"uhhhh...ummph..."

[Tyrmer]

The figure slowly reaches for a slate at it's waist and slowly lifts it up. Slightly incliningof its head to demonstrate it wasn't attempting to do any harm. It then waves a gauntleted palm over the slate and firey words appear on it.

"You weren't visible."

[silke_rahn]

Silke looked at the words that appeared on the small slaight.

"Sorry," whispered Silke, "I usually scout an area by leaving as little trace of myself as I can. Your rush into here just triggered my reactions to danger."

Sillke relaxed the pressure of her blade and quietly rolled off of the armored human. She rolled far enough to be out of easy reach as the size of the loft would allow. Then and only then did she return to a crouching possition with her dagger at the ready. She then looked to the other person.

"Carefully get back from the edge of the loft and check over there for the source of those moans," Silke whispered. She cocked her head towards a small cot or bed that rested agains the back wall just below a small window. "I'll see who our other guest is."

With that Silke leaned forward far enough to look over the edge of the sleeping loft without being seen herself.

[Elrohir]

[color=darkred:1hoogqwo]After dancing around in his joys of freedom from the mindflayers. The wearyness of battle swooned him as the loss of blood has gotten to him. QUietening he ploped to his knees and placed his hands over his knees and he begain to humm a chant to himself ocasionaly a word might slip. As the tempo went on just outside the lofts window. The wounds begain to heal them selves up his charcole grey skin patching it self up as it over grows like lace. And then suddenly he stoped and looked up at the window with his one good eye. Catching the glimps of white hair peeking over the ledge.

The whispers of his mind reaching out and throwing his voice to the window Haunting sounds of demonic chatter then a sudden

"BOOOOO!!!!"

resonates from within the sleeping loft room. A faint chuckle can be heard from the dwarf below.[/color:1hoogqwo]

[silke_rahn]

Realizing the inmaturity of the little grey dwarf below her Silke just says, "It would take more that a simple boo to frighten me. I hate to admit it, but I have seen nearly the worst that two different worlds could throw at me. Now where did you come from?'

[Elrohir]

[color=darkred:2vm34nvf]*Chuckles to himself* "It feels good to laugh again. Where do I come from you say. I come from the deepest pits of the underdark near where acid flows like water in the caverns of that dark abyss. I come from a place where dreams are sucked out of your head along with your brain. What say you elf where are you from? And Perhaps you could tell me where I am now."

The dwarf spies the ladder and begins his ascent No visible weapons on him because there arnt any. His Studded leather armor riped to shreds and barely hanging on to his body. Blood stained and battle scarred. But with the smile of utmost joy and happiness. When he reaches the top you see he stands only about 4'4" tall but broad and stocky as any dwarf. His head was bald but tatooed in strange designs that run down his neck. A fresh scar crosed his left cheek across his eye. His short kept beard once white now red with blood. [/color:2vm34nvf]

[silke_rahn]

OOC: Just so you know Silke has been a long running character of mine. In the gaming group I am involved in she started out on Toril about the time of the events of the computer game Neverwinter Nights: Shadows of Unrentide or is it Unritide anywate we played out the events of all the modules associated with the Never Winter Nights campaign then moved it over to a D-20 Modern Campaign where the characters arrived on Earth in the late 1980s and spent twenty years in game time roll playing.

I decided to check out on-line gaming forums and found this one. Since I like playing the surface dwelling Drow that worship Eilistraee instead of the others I thought it would be interesting to come up with a reason for her to be summoned back to Toril from Earth.

So Eilistraee appears to Silke while she is grading papers at her mundane job as a Professor of Anthropology and Sociology at Washburn University where she teaches courses on comparative mythology and religion. The Dark Maiden's Avatar told her that she was needed back on Toril to seek out those that destroyed her home village and to avenge other similar attacks on followers of the Lady of the Dance. Though not a paladin, Eilistraee thought that Silke would be a better choice for this quest than either of her sisters Sabine, one of Eilistraee's few Paladins, or Ursula, a Ranger, Cleric of Eilistraee, and Harper Agent.

Silke even on Earth was willing to do the dirtier jobs in the name of what was right. Though on Earth her gender limited her to being a Military Policewoman thus allowing her to get involved in fighting, though limited. She was in Panama in 1989, the First Gulf War in 1991, spent a year in Afghanistan in 2003, and another in Iraq in 2005. In 1992 she spent her Army College Funds to get a degree and by 2001 she had her Doctorate in Sociology and another in Anthropology. In 2002 she got her position with Washburn. Each of her tours in 2003 and in 2005 occured while she was in the Kansas Army National Guard. Some of what she did during those tours though officially assigned to a KSARNG Military Police Company is to this day still sensitive material and not for public consumption. She did some contacts with other planar travellers that needed rescued from bad situiations that they stumbled into. She secretly works for Bureau 13 of DHS. Her handler knows both that she is missing from Earth and why.

IC: From one of her pouches Silke withdraws a green box about three inches wide, six inches long, and two inches thick with a white square containing a red cross within it painted on its surface. Lettering covers the lid, but it is not of any script familiar to any literate person on the face or from the Underdark of Toril. "Let me see those wounds. I might be able to stop any infection. I am not a healer, but where I have been the last twenty years I have learned more than my share of how to treat wounds."

She sits the case on the floor next to her and opens it. From it she removes several packets with the letters A... L... C... O... H... O... L... W... I... P... E... on them, a roll of quaze, a roll of tape, a small clear bag with small red and yellow tablets in it, and lastly a small bottle redish brown bottle of something with the letters H...Y...D...R...O...G...E...N...P...E...R...O...X...I...D...E... on its label.

Looking over to the armored human, "Have you found the source of those moans yet?" Then she turns to the Duergar, "So can I treat your wound or not?"