Angel's Love, Halfling's Trials

Prompt Week 38: Miekilli's Blessings, Mask's Grace

 

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Forgotten Realms setting of D&D, but the characters in here are from a game and of my own creation. Any player characters from the game have been loaned out with permission from their players. I receive no money for this endeavor.

 

Notes, explanations, and reply responses will be at:

http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php?app=forums&module=forums&section=findpost&pid=228040.

 

There were a few things that could make ones day at times, especially when you were in the middle of being taunted by a man more than twice your size and easily over five times your weight, than seeing your tormentor being caught off guard. Fzoul had already left some indeterminable time ago, ever so kindly leaving some other priest of Bane to start to torment the halfling captive. Thistle was starting to wish for an enlargement spell by the end of it, just before she saw the rather large mace land upside the head of her tormentor. She couldn't have cared less if her savior was the ugliest descendant of a fiend that existed at this point, which he most certainly did look like. The shining mithral and leather worked breastplate with the emblem of Miekilli's holy symbol was the most wondrous thing she'd seen all day. The most beauteous sound was that of jingling keys as the door to her prison cell was unlocked. That had been quickly followed by a harsh, raspy voice that growled out the sweetest phrase she'd heard all day, “I will have you down in just a moment. ”

 

Thistle let out a sigh of relief as a stool was brought into the cell and she found herself held to that breastplate so tightly that it was almost a hug. The manacles that held her aloft came undone with an audible click as well as the sound of the lock crashing to the floor beneath her. Apparently her rescuer didn't care to be to silent really. “Thank you, I was starting to think it'd be a while before I'd manage to reach the wall. Is there anyone else stuck here as well?” Concern rang in her voice as she was placed down to the floor carefully by her new-found half-fiendish looking companion. The harper was grateful for the chance to rub feeling back into her raw and sore wrists. Thistle knew she wasn't overweight for a halfling; however the past Tymora-only-knows hours in this place had started making her feel like a diet may not be such a bad idea. “I'll go see if I can find where they put any of the belongings...”

 

“No. That would not be such a good idea right now. I will go find them with you when we have the others out of this devil-tainted slaughterhouse they call a temple. Then once you and the other captives are safe, I will deal with the devil-dealing bastard sons of bitches here myself.”

 

The halfling blinked in confusion as the vilipending statement kept her from finishing her statement. Did this possible holy knight of Miekilli think she was helpless? She'd have to let him know that she was quite capable normally and she'd be more than happy to assist once she found her shoes, armor, and other belongings. After all, she needed to make sure that the relic of Tymora she was currently the guardian for was safe. You never knew what might happen if the Banites had riffled through her things and found it. Clearing her throat softly, Thistle resolved herself to set this matter straight immediately. “I'm terribly sorry if I seem rude or ungrateful but I can help you a little bit more as soon as...”

 

“Found w'ere 'ey stashed t'e loot Stone-face! So ya can stop trying ta scare the l'il girl o'er t'ere wit' yer ugly mug.” Thistle blinked as a masked half-orc sauntered into the room and dropped more than a few bags of holding onto the floor in front of them. “Stop s'ovin' yer 'ellbred mug in the face o' t'at cute t'ing t'ere and give me a 'and wit' all t'is.” The odd canter of lightly leather-clad woman's speech was enough to mark her from a more Northernly area. Blinking seemed like the best option to Thistle as she went over and started to search for the pipes she watched over. They were still there, it was a relief to say the least. “T'at yer bag l'il one? Well t'en, I dinna go o'er it yet so it all t'ere. Me word on t'at.” The rough speech seemed a bit reassuring as the male knight of Miekilli shook his head in disbelief at the half-orc's boldness. Well, odd company indeed it seemed. “Donna 'old back on me account, I donna go t'roug' w'at belongs ta t'e luck goddess. Everyone else maybe, bunna 'er. S'e a crazy woman. Me, I escape t'at by bein' nodda bein' one meself.”

That was enough to make the poor halfling think she'd seen and heard it all. The knight just shook his head as he slapped the half-orc upside his. "Do not mind this fool of an idiot. He is more touched in the head than not some days. There is no one else in this room, we need to go look for them in the others before I finish my business."