Perilous Paths

BY : Hopebringer-Jem
Category: +A through F > Dungeons & Dragons
Dragon prints: 1626
Disclaimer: I do not own D&D nor Forgotten Realms. I also get no money from this, as I am STILL as poor as a church mouse.

Scurrilous Practices


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. Written for the Yukihimedono challenge.


Notes, explanations, and reply responses will be at



Flower found herself covering her nose as she crawled through the spaces above the slave pits. Her shorter than average height giving her a bit of advantage in the tiny space, although the stench of offal, sweat, and decay still rose from the barred open ovens below. The cut-aways revealing tiny cells where old men, women, and young children laid huddled in tiny cells as bandages covered their oozing flesh in an attempt to ward of the rotting flesh's stench rather than to halt it. Her jade green eyes narrowed in disgust at the treatment of the ill beneath her, the shadow dancer beguiler more than willing to teach whoever did this a rather severe lesson once she found that wretched soul. Still, moving more stealthily than one would believe possible in a white cloak of the archmagi, she kept going forward having to steel herself against the piteous moans and cries from below- the cries of the abandoned, condemned, and damned. Ilmater have mercy on their souls, she couldn't save them now. She wasn't capable of casting healing spells and their conditions had grown too severe, all she could do was avenge them. For now her greenstone amulet would block any attempts to scry or ferret her out and with any luck Tymora would keep her from being infected.


Sighing as she continued through the fetid tunnels, she wondered how she ended up going through this hell in Imnescar of Amn. Their was a suspected slaver ring that had been using a caravan that crossed the length of Faerun itself, and Amra had approached her about helping infiltrate it. First although, she had to find it or where this group connected to if it was connected to this hellish holding cell. Flower bit back an impatient and aggravated groan as she started to compare the heat to her new home in the Stonelands of Cormyr where her husband was trying to wring order out of chaos. Personally, she liked a little chaos here and there but he was a Purple Dragon Knight, so perhaps he did view such things differently. Their son would be safe with the other children of the town that they were trying to establish and she was quite sure Darien would be infuriated with her when he realized she snuck off to deal with this and would be gone for some time.


Still, reminiscing wouldn't help her get to the bottom of this any sooner. She crawled as fast as her halfling legs would let her. At this rate the unofficial lady of Rose Haven would be here for hours if this infrastructure didn't have the good grace given by the blessed Garl Glittergold and Brandobaris to have some sort of opening to a new area soon. Her eyes trying to take in anything new as the bodies of the dying decayed as time went on without an ounce of pity or mercy. A swift blade to the heart would be a tender mercy in this situation but she couldn't bring herself to drop down through the shadows long enough to do so. Those responsible would suffer the worst of Garl's and Brandobaris's humor before she was done. The moments crawled by as she made her way through the suffocating narrow expanse until she finally found what she was looking for, a passage to the places beyond. The screaming from there was unbearable however, as if people were dying.


Quietly dropping through the shadows, the blonde halfling landed on the ground just before the portcullis. It took all of her learned skills to spy what was going behind the solid iron bars without being spotted; she almost wished she had failed for a moment. There was a small child being cut open alive as a group of turban-hatted desert dwellers impassively watched the innards of the child being exposed to the open air. White-hot shackles around the slim ankles, legs, arms, wrists, and neck kept the child in place as the blood rushed from his open chest. His wailing cries rending the air as a large hand roughly slapped his face with a rough alzhedo accent ordering the boy to cease his girlish caterwauling and act like a man. There were bids of money on various parts of his body, one that sickened her to the core was the offer for the child's foreskin and genitalia. Seeing her own precious child like that, she grabbed ahold of her rapiers of subtlety before stepping back into the shadows. Only seconds went by as she shadow jumped into the room ahead of her, surprising her victim as she fell down on top of him- rapier point first. As she tumbled out of the drop, she blinked as she silently verbalized the words for the phantom battlefield illusion. A spell that would help her get the drop on her opponents as they wouldn't know what was real from what wasn't. A fitting end in her mind, this lesson was turning more fatal as it went on. The brief skirmish barely lasted half a minute, but her white cloak was stained with red as her rapiers were cleaned and sheathed. Fumbling in her Heward's handy haversack, she found a diamond studded and topped wand of cure moderate wounds, considering the young age of the boy it would suffice and possessed a few more charges than her other wands. She'd have to charge them all on the glowstone later. A brief wave with a few words caused the child's injuries to heal as if they were never there other than a thin, faint scar.


Flower smiled as she unlocked the burning shackles, and healed the burn scars as quickly as possible. The boy looked down at her frightenedly before starting to cling to the short woman. She held the small child as she swore to him they would find his mother or what happened to him.


Her cloak needed to be cleaned again by the time she left that horrendous pit a few hours later, her mind churning furiously behind a forced calm expression. The boy, Jaliem, was orphaned now because of those monstrous beasts and their actions. They were not connected to the caravan she and Amra were hunting. Maybe Amra had more luck than she did this day, however a hot bath and meal were called for this evening.

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