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A Chance Encounter	By : Revenant Category: +A through F > Dungeons & Dragons Views: 5024 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Dungeons & Dragons or Forgotten Realms. All original characters belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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William’s eyes fluttered open. The thin fingers of the trees above him grasped at the sky, its colors turning from black to blue. He had to get moving. Grunting, he eased himself off the bedroll and began his routine: he shaved, prepared breakfast, and pored over his map. He planned to make a wide berth around Dragonspear Castle and follow the Trade Way to Waterdeep, then he’d take the High Road to Neverwinter. After that…
He rolled up the map. He’d decide at Neverwinter.
William ate while Mirabelle grazed. Jerky with dried fruit. Not bad, but he would’ve killed for something different. These days, the only fresh food he had was when he stopped in towns or foraged. Part of him wondered if that would change. Did he have to do this every day? Did he have to keep moving?
The sun peeked over the horizon. Time to go, he thought.
He finished, packed up his things, pulled on his cloak, and rode Mirabelle towards the road.
###
It was an uneventful day. The skies were clear and the wind was slow, which meant clear weather for the next few days. William leaned back in the saddle. Faerun’s beauty still amazed him, though parts were too warm for his liking. He closed his eyes and let the sun beat down on his face. The only sounds were the tweeting of birds, the breeze pushing through the grass and trees, and the muffled clop of Mirabelle’s hooves. Didn’t get this at home, he thought.
Home. Was that what it was? The north hadn’t been his home for decades.
What concerned him now was how long the journey was taking. He was hoping to be halfway to Daggerford by now, but he was maybe a third of the way. Mirabelle had definitely slowed these past months. He patted the old mare’s neck.
“We’ve been through a lot together, eh girl?” he said. She nickered in response. William frowned. What would he do when the day came, when she couldn’t carry him anymore? Sell her? No. He’d simply let her go. Pull off the bridle and say his goodbyes. It was what she deserved.
His shook his head to clear his thoughts. That was the future. He needed to think about here, now.
He’d have to make more stops, which meant more supplies. He checked his coin purse. The recent bugbear job had left him flush: one hundred and fifty silver pieces, plus a handful of coppers. About four weeks of supplies. Four-and-a half at a stretch. At the rate they were moving, it would take five weeks to reach Neverwinter. William sighed. It was doable, but he’d have to hunt for the rest. Maybe a few skipped meals.
The Misty Forest beckoned to the east. Dammit, he thought. Fine time for Mira to start getting slow. Orcs and barbarians from High Moor were known to attack travelers along this stretch of road. Vigilance was key. He scanned the trees, looking for odd movement, listening for unusual noises: the clank of metal, or the creak of leather.
So far, so good. If he was lucky, he wouldn’t need to fight. William rubbed his chest, fingers brushing his amulet, the silver coin that featured Tymora’s smiling face surrounded by shamrocks. He had always been lucky. He was lucky last night in Rugar, the village that still stuck with him like a bad taste. There was a place destined to dry up and blow away. Sir Roderick had the personality of a scheming dragon. The villagers were broken, mere shells of humans. And the kobold… The kobold had been fascinating. It -- she knew Common, and better than most. Perhaps she had been the servant of a creature that spoke the language and she picked it up.
Crack!
William pulled on Mirabelle’s reins. Snapping wood. Not the sound of a dead branch hitting the forest floor, but of a boot stepping on a dry twig. He swiveled his head, his heart beating a little faster. No one in sight. Unsheathing his sword, he paused, half-expecting a flurry of arrows to greet him. The seconds creeped by.
“Look out!” called a voice. Male. Human. Sudden shouts of surprise and anger. “Grab it!” said another. Same.
William hesitated. It could be a trap. Bandits liked to fake a struggle to lure in good-hearted merchants and travelers. A cry of pain and then… Barking? A twinge of confusion and curiosity tugged at him. He dismounted Mirabelle and ran towards the forest. This wasn’t a trick.
Leaping over tree roots and logs, he sprinted towards the sounds. More shouts, followed by snarls and growls. Through the trees he saw four burly humans, swinging axes and swords at a dodging, weaving creature. It raised its twin daggers, jabbing and slashing at the men.
William almost gasped. Bluish green scales. Red scarf over the face.
It was the kobold.
“Hey!” he yelled, more out of surprise than anything. The group froze and turned towards him. Shit, he thought. Barbarians. For a split second, no one moved. Then the kobold raised her daggers and leaped onto the nearest barbarian, sinking them deep into his back. “Gragh!” the barbarian responded, slipping to the ground. Two of the others resumed their attack, while a third rushed towards William, his face twisted in anger.
“Wait!” said William, but the barbarian wasn’t listening. William threw himself out of the way of the charging hulk, the barbarian’s axe whistling through the air behind him. Spinning around, William slashed at him, opening a gash on his back.
The barbarian was barely phased. William’s mind raced. Not good, not good, not good. Somewhere to his right, he heard the other three fighting the kobold. One was groaning. He wondered if the kobold was okay. Stay calm, stay focused, he thought.
Another wild swing. He dodged again. Barbarians were strong and tough, far tougher than most men. Chop off their limbs and they’d try to bite you to death. The best tactic here was to kill them quick, before they had a chance to rage. He thrust his weapon, inserting it into the barbarian’s side.
Snarling, the barbarian struck his axe against William’s blade. Pain shot through his wrists, the sword nearly flying out of his hands. Going to feel that tomorrow. Stumbling to his left, he briefly saw the kobold thrust at the ankles of her opponents. The backstabbed one was still kneeling, breathing raggedly.
End this. Now. The axe-wielder raised his weapon above his head, readying the final blow. Turning, William stepped forward and dropped to his knee, plunging the tip of his blade under the brute’s chin. The barbarian froze and opened his mouth to speak, a red ribbon spilling out.
“Guuuh,” he admitted, slumping forward.
The others hadn’t noticed. William studied the battle. The kobold ducked and jumped over the barbarians’ swings, then slipped between the legs of one, slashing at his thighs and groin.
“You little shit!” he screamed.
She was good. Fast and flexible, but it was obvious she was tiring.
Slip away right now, a voice said. You stuck out your neck for her before, don’t be stupid. He looked behind him. The path was clear. He could sneak back to Mirabelle.
The backstabbed barbarian groaned and rose to his feet, legs shaking. To the hells with it, thought William. Rushing forward, he neatly unmoored the barbarian’s head from his body, then spun and skewered the nearest foe through his back.
“Graaaaaah!” the barbarian protested, blade sticking out of his chest.
A milk-curdling howl. The final barbarian had knocked down the kobold and was bellowing at her, cords standing out on his neck, intelligence and reason draining from his eyes. He’s raging, William thought, his stomach sliding down to his feet. He wiggled his sword free, charged forward and brought it down with every ounce of strength on the barbarian’s shoulder.
He might as well have swatted a griffon with rolled-up parchment. The barbarian twisted around, pulling the sword free of William’s grasp, and grabbed him by his tunic. A brief sensation of being lifted and then he was flying. Please, Tymora, don’t let me break anything, he thought as he crashed back down to Faerun. Screaming as a wave of searing pain shot through his left shoulder and radiated around his back. Ah, damn you, you fickle bitch.
Another roar. Forcing open his eyes, William saw the barbarian rushing towards him, a massive claymore in his fists. Part of him noted his sword was still embedded in the barbarian’s shoulder. Maybe she’ll give me a quick death.
Suddenly, the kobold was there, jumping onto the barbarian, attaching to him like a reptilian barnacle. She plunged her daggers over and over into his face and neck, little jets of blood painted the ground. He snarled, tried to grab her, but she was too fast. Blinded by blood and pain, the barbarian flailed his sword, barking short grunts, legs wobbling. The kobold kept stabbing, opening one wound after another, the barbarian’s face a crimson mask. He stumbled to his knees, dropped his sword, crawled forward a few feet, then collapsed.
The barbarian’s breathing was ragged, slowing with each second. Slower. Slower. Silence.
William rolled onto his back, wincing. Closing his eyes, he silently apologized to Tymora.
Something poked him. “Are you dead?” said a voice.
He sat up, ignoring the pain flaring up in his shoulder. The kobold. She jumped backwards, daggers at the ready. Then realization dawned on her face.
“You!” she said. “You were in the village. You saved me from the guards.” She pulled off her scarf and started wiping off blood. “You did it again. Why?”
William tried to force a smile, but it came out like a grimace. “Heard shouting. Came to investigate.” Shit, his ribs hurt too. Chalk up another injury. “What happened, anyway?
The kobold stepped back a little, still cautious. “I went through the forest, to get back to the road. I saw them --” She motioned towards the corpses. “-- and I thought they might have good things.”
William gingerly palpated his arm. No broken bones, but his shoulder was burning. Dislocated. He swallowed a cry of frustration. “Good things?” he said.
The kobold nodded. “Yes. Expensive things.”
“You ambushed four barbarians so you could steal their valuables?” He was trying to keep annoyance out of his tone.
“Yes.” She looked down. “Not smart?”
“No,” he said, gritting his teeth. “Not smart at all.” He hated what came next, but Daggerford was too far away, and the odds of finding a cleric on the road were slim. “Listen, do me a favor. My arm’s hurt and I need you to fix it.”
She shrugged. “I am no healer.”
William lay on his back. “It’s simple. Grab my wrist and pull on it when I say. Slow and steady. Ready?” The kobold carefully moved forward and took his hand, unsure. “Now.”
She pulled, and he felt a hot poker plunge into his shoulder, twisting, stirring up the socket. He screamed, louder than he thought possible. An audible clunk, and he felt the bone slide back into place.
“Stop! Stop pulling!” he wailed. The kobold let go and looked at him, head tilted.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
Stupid question, he thought. He inhaled deeply, the pain ebbing away. “Yes. Fine. Thank you,” he said. He pushed himself to his feet, hobbled over to his sword and pulled it free of the barbarian’s body, then he wiped off the blood and slid it back in its scabbard. He tore some cloth off the dead man’s tunic and fashioned a crude sling to cradle his arm.
The kobold had lost interest and was rummaging through the corpses, throwing coins and whatever else she found in her satchel. William sighed.
“It was engaging,” he said, “but now I need to take my leave.” He turned and walked back towards the road.
“Wait!” said the kobold. She bounded towards him like an excited dog. She stopped and studied him, a faint glimmer in her eyes. “What is your name?”
“William,” he said.
She cocked her head. “Will-yum?”
“No, William.”
“Will-ee-um.”
He rubbed his forehead. “Just call me Will.”
“Will,” she echoed, nodding. “Will, can I come with you?”
“What? No!” he said, more forcefully than he intended. He was puzzled. A kobold, wanting to travel with a human? “Listen,” he continued, “I have a schedule to keep, a long way to go, and you’d be another mouth to feed. Besides, you seem a capable sort.”
“I won’t eat much,” she insisted. “And I have these --” She pointed to the daggers on her belt. “ -- and these!” She opened her satchel, revealing a pile of gold and silver coins, diamond and sapphire rings, an emerald necklace, and a ruby brooch.
William blinked. It was more wealth than he had ever seen. Then a thought occurred. “Hang on, is that from the baron’s vault?”
She closed the satchel. “No!” She paused. “Maybe…”
William stood there, hand on his hip like a disapproving mother. “So you are a thief. And I saved you.”
The kobold’s tail twitched back and forth. “They would have tortured me! Killed me! I know I’m a kobold, but I don’t deserve that!”
He stared at her. There was real fright in her eyes, he knew that. “No. No one deserves that, “ he said finally.
“I just need to get to the next town. I promise I won’t be a burden,” said the kobold. She dropped to her knees and clasped her hands in front of her. “Pleeeeeeeeeeaaaaase?”
He almost smiled. She was cute… for a kobold.
He thought a moment longer. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll take you to Daggerford, but no further. Understood?”
She nodded vigorously.
“What’s your name?”
“Kelrynn,” she said, thumbing her chest. “They call me ‘the Curious.’”
“Curious?”
Kelrynn nodded again. “It means eager to learn. It can also mean strange or unusual --”
“I know what it means,” William said, waving a hand.
“Oh,” said Kelrynn, tail drooping.
“Anyway, let’s get going. Mind yourself,” he said.
They walked back to the road. Occasionally, Kelrynn would stop to inspect a tree, a mushroom or an oddly-shaped rock, but she would always catch up after a few seconds. As they left the trees, William prepared for her to hiss at the sun and retreat to the shadows, but she didn’t. Odd, for a kobold.
Mirabelle shied when Kelrynn approached her.
“Easy, girl,” said William, stroking her neck. Reaching into the saddlebags, he searched around until he found what he wanted: a healing potion. Uncorking the vial, he threw his head back and poured the red substance down his throat. Within seconds, he could feel a numbing warmth spread through him, the pain in his body subsiding. Stuff was better than the finest wine.
Pulling himself into the saddle, he leaned over and extended a hand. “Get on.”
She grabbed and he pulled, the kobold more or less flying onto the horse. Kelrynn perched herself on Mirabelle’s rump, like a cat surveying its surroundings.
“Watch those claws,” he warned. Tymora, don’t let me regret this, he thought, urging Mirabelle forward.
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Now William understood why Kelrynn was called “the Curious.” Every few minutes she’d jump off Mirabelle, look at a flower or a bush, then run back. He’d been disconcerted at first, then annoyed. “Do that again and I’m not helping you up,” he’d said. That had kept her still for a while. Eventually, she started fidgeting and running her hands over Mirabelle’s coat. A few moments after, she was off again. From then on, she walked beside them.
She has endurance, William admitted.
Fortunately, they were passing the Misty Forest without further incident -- good, since he was in no shape to fight. Ahead was the Delimbiyr. Unfortunately, Mirabelle was having trouble keeping pace, slowing to a walk. The sky was changing from blue to orange as the sun crept towards its resting place below the horizon. He estimated there was still another twenty miles, at least, before Daggerford. He sighed. They’d have to set up camp. Pulling Mirabelle to a halt, William got off the saddle.
“Why are we stopping?” asked Kelrynn.
“Because it’s getting late,” he said.
She blinked and looked around, as if she’d never noticed. “Oh, it is,” she said.
Suppressing an eye roll, William began unloading his supplies: the bedroll, an extra blanket, a cast iron pan, a canteen, the saddlebags of food and potions, a bow, a quiver of arrows, and a hatchet. It took longer than usual because of his immobile arm.
This means, he thought, it will take me longer to do everything now. He cursed under his breath -- more time wasted. He’d have to get up extra early too. Always more complications.
“Help me gather kindling and logs,” he said. Kelrynn bounded off, scooping up twigs as she went. Some time later, she returned, dropping an armful of wood at his feet.
“Well done,” he said, a note of surprise in his voice. The thought of a kobold helping a larger creature was ridiculous. No telltale signs of resentment: no attempts to escape, no snide remarks, no pissing on the kindling. Maybe she saw him as an authority figure.
He managed to ball up some tinder and construct a teepee structure out of the fuelwood, but he had trouble holding the flint and striker.
“I can do that,” said Kelrynn. Grabbing them, she neatly struck the steel against the flint a few times, sending sparks flying onto the tinder. When a few caught, she bent over and blew on the glowing spots. The tiny sparks grew into orange worms, and then the bundle of grass and leaves burst into flame. Kelrynn threw a few sticks on the fire and watched it devour the bunch.
“Not bad,” said William, trying not to sound impressed. “Where did you learn that?”
Kelrynn scratched her head. “I watched others do it,” she said.
“Others?”
“Humans, dwarves, elves. Those others.”
William pulled two hardtack biscuits wrapped in wax parchment out of a bag and tossed one to her. “So you’ve had many companions?”
She shook her head and stared at the biscuit. “No. I watched from a distance.”
“Then how did you learn Common?”
“I listened.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” said William. “You can’t learn a language simply by listening to it.”
She looked away. “A long story,” she said.
“Ah,” he said. He bit into the hardtack and tried to ignore the taste of old parchment.
She was looking at him. One thing he knew for sure about her was when something piqued her curiosity: her tail would twitch a certain way and her eyes would light up, like someone had ignited a fire behind them.
“What’s around your neck?” she said, pointing to his amulet.
“It’s the symbol of Tymora. Lady Luck. She’s protected me since childhood,” he said.
“She grants you luck?”
He sighed. “I said she protects me. I don’t consider myself lucky.”
Kelrynn blinked at him. “What do you mean?”
A smile tugged at his mouth. “A long story.”
She looked back at the biscuit. Unwrapping the parchment, she sniffed the hardtack a few times, cautiously. She nibbled a corner and made a face.
“It tastes bad,” she said.
“It’s not meant to taste good,” he said.
“Why would someone eat food that tastes bad?”
“It’s food that lasts a long time. On the road, I don’t have the luxury of taste.”
“Oh.” She nibbled at the biscuit some more, then stopped. “I’m not hungry.”
“Suit yourself,” he said, taking it back. They sat in silence after that. William supplemented his meal with a sliver of dry cheese and several gulps of water. Too much salt in these rations. The sky changed again, the subtle pinks and reds shifting back to blue, a blanket of dark indigo. He finished eating, threw a few more logs on the fire and unrolled his bed. Kelrynn moved closer to the heat, curling up in its embrace like an old dog.
“Here,” he said. He placed the extra blanket next to her. “You don’t need to sleep on the dirt.” She looked at the blanket, then back at him, her face a mixture of confusion and suspicion.
“Thank you again,” she mumbled, grabbing the blanket. Nestling onto it, she closed her eyes. Eventually, her breathing slowed. Occasionally, she tossed and turned, or let out a rumbling snore.
William laid down and watched the kobold for a few minutes. He knew a little more about her, but not enough to form a complete picture. She spoke Common, knew how to build a fire, how to fight, and was a skilled thief. She didn’t hate sunlight or taller creatures. At least, not openly. She even seemed to like his company. Where was her tribe? Was she a runaway? An exile? Whatever the explanation, his new… companion? His new fellow traveler was intriguing.
He turned towards Mirabelle. The old mare swished her tail nonchalantly. Maybe I should look at horses in Daggerford. He shoved that thought aside. No. It’s not time yet.
Closing his eyes, he settled into a dreamless sleep.
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