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Hide in the Midnight	By : Rainsong Category: A through F > Forgotten Realms Views: 5295 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Forgotten Realms series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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I own nothing. I just enjoy taking others peoples characters stretch them out on a rack and let a character of my own design whip them or just do it myself. Characters in this story that were created by me: Antunia Beanre, Elress Silverleaf, Kensin Overfield, Giant- Stewart, Silken Rat- Maurice, Preist-Darien, Drogo Anvilspliter, Bragnor Stoneaxe, and Dangnor Anvilsong.

Antunia Baenre ran for her life through the dank, dark tunnels beneath Mithral Hall. Her labored breathing rasped in her lungs, each breath she took reminded her painfully that half her ribs were broken. Her blood dripped onto the ground; emanating from the deep gash across her abdomen, her left arm was wrapped tightly around her wound to prevent her guts from spilling out. A scimitar she had stolen decades ago was clasped in a white-knuckled grip in her right-hand. Pain colored her vision in a fine red mist.

She halted at a junction in the tunnels; she listened carefully to any sounds that came to her ears. To her great relief the only sounds were her own breathing, the patter of her blood striking the stone beneath her feet, and the dripping of water in the distance. Leaning against the wall closest to her for support, she slid down to sit on the ground. She carefully tore her cloak into strips using her teeth and bound the wound tightly. Panting in pain, she stood slowly all the while using the cave wall for support and then stumbled down the right-hand passageway.

She tried to run again but soon found that she lacked the strength to do so. Groaning in pain she pushed herself into the fastest trot she could muster. A few hundred yards down the tunnel she had to stop again as her vision began to shift uncontrollably between the infrared and normal light spectrums. Her silver hair was plastered against her sweat drenched forehead. She shivered even though her ebony skin was hot to the touch.

Her legs trembled violently, she realized belatedly that she shouldn’t have sat down earlier; climbing to her feet had taken more out of her than she had thought. She swore in drow at her own stupidity. She strained her ears once again for any sounds besides her own. She licked her lips nervously at the echoing silence. Something was wrong, very wrong, she could almost taste it. She was beginning to understand how prey felt before wolves.

She eased her way down the passage, with her sword arm leading. She swore softly at how badly her arm trembled. A sound echoed somewhere close but it bounced weirdly off the walls, she was unsure of its origins. She turned around and faced the way she had come from. Seeing nothing but the rock walls around her, she backed slowly down the tunnel. The sound came again; still unable to trace it to its source she wet her lips nervously.

She continued to back slowly; her heart was lodged in her throat from fear. A wall stopped her in her tracks; she sighed and rolled her eyes at her clumsiness. Then the wall grabbed her sword arm and lifted her two feet of the ground. The hand engulfing her wrist squeezed until the bones grated painfully against one another, she cried out in pain and dropped her scimitar. A sick feeling of dread settled into the pit of her stomach. The giant of a man holding her aloft chuckled wickedly.

She kicked out with her right foot; her booted foot connected with his jaw and emitted a loud crack. He grunted in pain and dropped her; she landed in an ungraceful heap at his feet. Snatching up her scimitar and scrambled away on all fours until she could stand to run. Her flight was halted by the one she called Priest; he towered over her nearly seven inches and weighed in at twice her bulk. He smiled sadistically and pulled the mace he had used to crush her ribs from beneath his black velvet robes. Antunia retreated backwards as he advanced a few steps toward her.

“No where left to run little one. So, why don’t you just give up now?” to her ears came a deceptively silky voice from behind Priest.

The one she referred to as Silken Rat stepped into her line of sight; as usual he wore a smug little smile. The way he moved screamed assassin to all her senses. Fear constricted her throat as they came towards her. She whirled around as she heard the heavy tread of the man she had labeled Giant. She lashed out with her scimitar and left a long gash on Giant’s forearm. He hissed in pain and moved out of her sword’s reach.

“Ah! The bitch still has a little bit of fight left in her. Good, this’ll be more fun than I thought,” chuckled Giant as he held out his arm for Priest to heal.

Rat and Giant rushed towards her from either side, swords drawn. She fought like what she was, a wounded animal. She pulled every dirty trick she knew, but it wasn’t enough. She was too weak from blood loss, she was growing extremely weary. Her fighting abilities were hindered by the lack of her other scimitar and exhaustion. She tripped and fell as a wave of dizziness struck her, her world blurred and tilted. Before she could recover they were upon her. They wrestled her onto her stomach, kicking and biting. The pinioned her arms behind her back and manhandled her into a kneeling position.

‘I’m going to die,’ Antunia thought grimly.

Giant came to stand before her. He smiled nastily and backhanded her with enough force to knock her flying three feet. Her vision swam and there were blotches clouding her vision, she was momentarily deaf because of the ringing in her ears. Laughing all the while they lifted her onto her knees again. Once she was upright again she spat the mouthful of blood she had been holding onto Silken Rat’s boots. Rat sneered at her; he pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the blood off.

“Hold her still boys; she needs to be taught a lesson in manners before we kill her. Mind her face now we want to be able to collect on her head when we’re done,” Rat purred while pulling a long knife from his belt.

Giant and Priest pulled her to her feet and gripped her arms with bruising force. She struggled as hard as she could but their hands held firm. Rat balled his fist and punched her in the ribs; Antunia bit her lip to keep from screaming in pain. Smiling with sadistic glee, Silken Rat laid his knife against her upper arm and cut a two inch gash. As the knife bit into her flesh, Rat punched her in the stomach, this time a scream of agony was tore from her lips. Her tormentors laughed merrily at her pain; her disgust from them caused bile to rise up in her throat. Her stubborn nature took over and she became determined not to entertain them with her pain. As Silken Rat continued to place cuts along her arms and legs; while alternating punching her stomach and ribs, she bit her bottom lip until blood dribbled down her chin so that his efforts elicited only muffled groans and whimpers. After awhile they became bored with her silence; Giant and Priest released her arms and she toppled over onto her side. Too weak to fight any longer, with darkness encroaching upon her vision, she began to pray.

“Mielikki who sheltered me, Mielikki who guided me. To you I give my sword, To you I give my strength, To you I give my last breath. Mielikki forgive your humble servant. Guide me to your side, As I now send you this final prayer,” she prayed plainly and loudly in the common tongue.

As she prayed, they laughed. She searched franticly with her eyes for something to look upon before the blade of a sword met her neck. A short distance away from face lay the silver unicorn’s head talisman she always wore, she smiled and fell blissfully into the oblivion that was awaiting her.

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Bruenor Battlehammer watched as the three men tortured the injured drow woman they had captured. His gut twisted with conflicting emotions, he wanted to help the drow but the drow were the traditional enemies of his people. When the drow screamed in pain he winced and gripped his axe handle tighter. He could hear her whimpers from where he and his men hid fifteen feet away, he shifted uncomfortably in his indecision. He watched tore in twine as the two who held her released her; she fell to the ground and lay still. He hung his head and prepared to signal his men to withdraw when he heard her prayer to Mielikki. He clenched his jaw in determination and signaled his crossbowmen to the fore. At his signal they fixed their crossbow bolts, the bolts thudded into the largest man as he raised his sword to severe her head. The man in black robes raised his left hand and the mace in his right began to glow menacingly. A carefully placed crossbow bolt ended the usefulness of his mace. But this did not slow him for long, he began chanting and the torn tendon in his arm began to heal. Bruenor signaled his men and they charged. The thin, sallow skinned man fought hard but a rush of nearly thirty dwarves was too much for any two men. The dwarves swarmed over the men, injured but otherwise fine, the dwarves bound the men hand and foot; the cleric was gagged.

“Well boyo, why be ye ‘ere?” Bruenor growled.

“She stole a horse, we were hired to kill her and bring back the horse,” the thin one replied.

“I bet ye a copper that ye could of gotten the horse from her without killin’ ‘er,” Bruenor growled.
“She’s drow; all drow are thieves and murderers only out for themselves,” the man sneered.

“Not all drow be the same. Ye are ignorant of that very few drow speak the Common tongue, yet this one does. She also prays to Mielikki, who be a good goddess, there be no evil in this one.” Bruenor snarled.

The man sneered at his statement. Bruenor snorted in disgust and went to examine the largest man. Upon examination Bruenor discovered that the man only had a few scratches and a bruised jaw, besides the obvious crossbow bolts he was relatively unharmed. Remembering the lack of injuries on the other two men prior to his men’s’ involvement, he stood to confer with Stumpet Rakenclaw about the drow woman.

TBC
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Hide in the Midnight