A Land Far Away

Note: My thanks to the author of the IC letter that drew Layla back to the mainland. That person shall remain anonymous for now, but will probably be revealed in time.

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Landfall

Layla yr Ibrahim yn Dawoud el Taorahl, often known as Aliyah or Amira, shouldered her worn sea-bag and walked down the gangplank of the Gypsy Queen, a merchant vessel she had been crewing as a mate for the last few months. The brisk sea air was thick with the smell of tar from the dock and of cook fires from a tavern. Layla smiled. Spending the last few months at sea had done wonders for her mood, but it was time to go ashore. Autumn was turning to Winter and it was best not to tempt the Bitch-Queen by overstaying one’s welcome on the ocean.

She followed the smell of the cook fire and bought a mug of frothy ale and a bowl of hot stew at the tavern. She savored both slowly; the first meal ashore was always the best. As she paid the inn-keeper for a room and bath, the man gave her an inquisitive look, as if studying her. Having apparently made up his mind about something he produced a thick square of folded paper; no doubt a message.

“I believe this be fer you, lass.”

Layla wiped her greasy fingers off on her trousers and took the small package. She flipped it over, inspecting it, then unwrapped it. Inside the wrapping was a folded note, written on cheap, thin paper. It was addressed to her, in several of her names, each equally misspelled. The body of the note read:

I could need you,
i'll make it worth wile for you. be openminded.
seek me out at feldepost in.
dont worry. ive payed them to not think to much, just-
tip them as soon as yo've read this, i'll cover those expenses.
/ D

Something else had been written at the end of the first line, but it had been inked over. The words were written in thin red ink, already fading a bit, and the handwriting was plain enough. The signatory D at the end was different though; it was elaborate, artistic even, and written in a rich blue ink.

Who in the nine-hells is “D”? Layla wondered. Could be Drake, also known as Lord Drake Veneshuel, and sometimes as Captain or Lord-Captain Drake. Layla had shipped with him on the Windwyrm for awhile during the pirate-king’s competition. That competition got a little too weird and dangerous; too many egos, not enough loot. But if Drake wanted to find Layla, he would not look for her here, but more likely in Skaug, where they had crewed together. And he certainly would not be suggesting the Feldpost as a meeting locale; that was on the mainland.

So who else could it be? Layla ran through the list of folks she knew who might want to meet with her, for good or ill. There was only one name that started with a D within spitting distance of the Feldpost, and it was a person that Layla wanted very much to see again anyway.

Having committed the note to memory, Layla held it over a candle flame and watched it burn. She had come ashore intending to winter in the Moonshaes, but now, the mainland was calling. It would mean more travel, but if she made the trek in the next ten-day, she’d avoid the worst of the weather.

Pondering the choice, she leaned back and drank her ale. The thought of going back to the mainland brought back the memories of why she had left. Kori's job. Toc’s betrayal. Merrin’s attack. Her narrow escape with Kori through the portal only to find themselves amidst an even darker threat. Another narrow escape, this time to land in a running battle with a forest full of goblins.

And at the end of it all, discovering that she was now wanted by the law in Baldur’s Gate. Her Calishite expatriate friends had fled to the Moonshaes with her, but that did not last long. Ali’Hussein had become the leaderless group’s dictator – a devil’s bargain made by Rain in return for Ali’s blessing on Rain and Hajjira’s marriage. Ali had insisted that Layla pay a fine for getting run out of Baldur’s Gate, even though it was Toc’s betrayal which caused it. To that fine, Ali added a fine for the murder of the dwarf couple in Silverymoon, even though that incident occurred before Ali had become leader.

Layla had argued a little, but eventually paid both fines. It was not enough. The next day Ali kicked Layla out of their group anyway. And he kept the fines. Little bastard.

She sighed. That job with Kori had been costly, and nothing good had come of it. Layla barely escaped with her life and ended up losing what few friends she had, though to call Ali’Hussein, Rain and Hajjira friends was a sad commentary on the state of Layla’s friendships. But that was of Layla’s own doing, and she knew it. Layla chose a bunch of cutthroats as friends, so the fact that they turned out to be shitty friends should not have been a surprise. Such is life, she thought.

Now, another person from her past was summoning her. A person who might be a friend - but what kind of friend? A friend like Ali and the others? She didn't need any more of those. Or a friend like Nisha? Another heartbreak wasn't needed either. Or ... maybe something else? Something better? Something worse? There was no way to know until she went and found out for herself. How bad could it be?

Worse that happens is that its a trap and I get killed, Layla thought, and death comes for everyone eventually. Layla resolved to go back to the mainland and find out who wanted to see her, and why ...

... but not before a hot bath and a long sleep. She finished her mug of ale, ordered another, and carried it back to where the hot, clean water was waiting to scrub off the last six months of sea salt. Layla had made landfall. Time to make the most of it.

Note: My thanks to players of the Knights Draconis, their friends, and the DMs Ith and Rump. Much fun!

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Layla silently crawled out of a underground stream into the mouth of an enormous cavern. By the flickering light of a kobold’s cook fire, she watched in awe as two dragons circled and fought. They moved so fast she could barely tell one from other, bronze scales sliding across black, teeth baring, claws digging. The overwhelming power and violence reminded her of storms at sea. She was so engrossed in their struggle she almost forgot the two dragons were surrounded by a band of kobolds, desperately trying to aid the black in slaying the bronze.

This was a fight she wanted no part of, but if she let the bronze die, the black and its kobold cronies would hunt her and her companions down next. Normally, Layla would have trusted in her stealth to extricate her ass from such a sticky situation, but she was deep, deep underground. She and the so-called “Knights Draconis” had traveled through endless caverns, freezing underground rivers, and dubious magic portals to get here, and now there was no easy escape route. They had to help the bronze win.

The problem was that Layla’s companions were a hundred yards upstream. If she stealthed back to get them, they would return to the fight too late. If she ran back, the kobolds would hear her splashing and they would give chase. Layla could attack the kobolds on her own and hope the Draconis came rushing to her aid, but what if they didn’t? The Knights Draconis was full of overly-brave so-called “adventurers”, many of whom were dwarves, but even the stoutest adventurers and dwarves might balk at getting in between a pair of warring dragons. A thought came to her: there was one brawny, axe-wielding fool that Layla thought might be susceptible to manipulation ...

She notched an arrow and took aim at one of the kobold shamans.

“BJORN!” Layla yelled at the top of her lungs. “TEMPUS CALLS YOU! CHARGE NOW!” She screamed, letting loose her shaft.

The arrow missed its target. In unison, all the kobolds turned to face Layla. Bjorn was nowhere to be found. That fucking coward has left me to die! Looming above she saw the maniacal eyes of the black dragon, its gaping maw opening wide to reveal rows of ivory teeth like daggers descending upon her…

…Layla awoke in a sweat, gasping for breath and stabbing at the darkness with the knife she kept under her pillow. She was not in the cavern any more, she was in bed in Rivermoot. She was safe. That fight in the caverns was long since over.

Her shaft had not missed its target; she had put it right through the throat of the shaman. Likewise, Bjorn had not abandoned her. The big blond oaf had come running, axe held high, just as she had hoped. He had charged right down the stream and joined Layla in the fight. All the Knights Draconis, including the dwarves Boz, Berona,and Kauss, the druid Damien, the priest Tiernan, and a human mercenary called Black, came running. They managed to kill all the kobolds, but the two dragons fell into an underground lake and were not seen again.

After the fight Layla and the Draconis made their way back to the surface. It was a long, cold, wet trek and Layla had never been so happy to see the sun again.

She took a deep breath. She was alone in the bed, like usual. Layla had not lain with anyone for months. Not since Kyranil in Baldur’s Gate. She had hoped to lay with Kori after their heist, but things went so wrong the two of them had to split up on the Tradeway and go separate directions. She wondered if she would ever even see Kori again, or if Kori was even alive. She hoped so. She knew Kori likely did not care whether Layla lived or died, Kori was cold like that, but Layla cared. As much as she could anyway. What was it Nisha said? You don’t even know what love is? She was probably right.

Layla rubbed her chest between her breasts. That nightmare about the dragons kept haunting her. The whole thing had turned out fine, but for the love of all that is holy, how in the nine-hells had she found herself stuck in between two warring dragons and their respective minions? What a stupid place to be.

Of course, the answer was the Knights Draconis, a lovable bunch of brave, hairy fools out for “glory.” Using the name Amira, Layla had hired on with them as a scout. It had been an intersting job so far, but a seriously dangerous one. The so-called Knights had a knack for getting themselves in trouble; kobolds, gnolls, trolls, ogres and even dragons.

Their leader of the Draconis was a one-eyed dwarf warrior called Boz who was also an expert with traps and locks. He was undoubtedly the brains of the operation. At the other end of the brains-brawn spectrum was their warleader, a giant Ruathym raider called Bjorn who made up for a lack of brains with a surfeit of muscle and bravado. The knights had their own scout, a dwarf named Kauss, and he was the one Layla got on with the best. They were a good team - Kauss could actually track and do woodsy things, which Layla did not have a clue about, but Layla was silent as a cat and was able to sneak up and scout out their enemies without being detected.

Kauss, however, was bound and determined to woo another member of the Knights, a female dwarf priestess named Berona. Berona, in turn, was just as bound and determined to make Kauss follow each and every stodgy dwarf mating tradition that their ridiculous culture could forge in the name of smothering happiness and spontenaity.

Rounding out the group was a human nature priest, a druid, named Damien, who Layla took a quick dislike too after an enraged bear had attacked locals and Damien tried to keep Layla from killing it. She did kill it of course – she just had to wait until Damien was distracted, arguing with Ander, one of the men the bear had mauled. But that left the her and the druid on the outs with each other.

The Knights had also included a human priest named Tiernan, but he was dead now, slain by a gnoll chieftan. That gnoll chieftan was why Layla was in Rivermoot. She, Boz, an insane new dwarf named Rhone and an outsider dwarf named Gundar had scouted out the road to Settlestone and found that gnoll chieftan and his warband. Layla had advised Boz and the others not to attack, and for once they listened to her. But she knew the Draconis would eventually go after that gnoll, and they'd do it on the gnolls homeground if they had to. This was why she was having the dream about the dragon again – she and the Draconis were likely getting in over their heads.

She laid back in bed and stared at the ceiling. A trip to Baldur’s Gate was sounding better and better. At the very least, she wanted to share her bed with someone again before she got killed, and there were a lot of beautiful women in Baldur’s Gate. The city itself was a despicable savage mud-pit, but for some unknown reason, the most amazing women came and went through that despicable savage mud-pit. Mud-pit or not, Layla needed to get laid. Then she could go throw down with that stupid fucking gnoll and his crew of bone-gnawing, butt-sniffing mutts.

After all, she thought, everyone dies.

((Everyone goes through dry patches (well, not me).))

((oh, and nice stories))

((lol... very fun stuff, reminds me of something I wrote years ago where OGR also had a toon that got caricatured. ))