Dreynar Vignettes

Fairness and Fighting
The scene begins with two people fighting. One an older woman with short platinum blonde hair, the other a young boy with shaggier hair of a darker shade. They are sparring against one another, the woman obviously holding back. The camera changes to a dimly lit desk, papers with numerous arcane and religious symbols traced upon the many scattered and disorganized sheets as a shadowy figure just slightly out of focus walks toward the door, the sound of the wooden swords recoiling off one another muffled from the other room. The door opens suddenly, the fighting stopping immediately as a tall man in a dark cloak, his blonde hair slicked back, walks into the room and approaches the woman. “How is he doing?” the man asks, refusing to look at the child.

“You could actually spend some time with your son and find out,” she angrily replies to the man, tossing the wooden sword in his direction. The man catches the sword and takes a stance to show the boy he is ready. The boy charges the man, the camera changing to the perspective of the boy as the man tosses the sword to the side and produces a dagger from beneath his cloak. He gracefully sidesteps the young boys attack, stepping out of frame as the overly used dagger plunging into flesh sound occurs as the camera falls violently to the floor, blurring over where the man had entered. The woman is screaming in terror as the man walks back into the study shouting “Still too weak,” as he slams the door behind him.

A Risky Return
A small boy of a 10 wearing a black cloak that covers his face walks down the beaten dirt path to Lucinni. His body shaking with each jarring beat of his heart as he avoids eye contact with everyone that passes by, in fear that one might recognize him. He makes his way down the street stopping at a door with the name Thunderburker intricately carved over the frame. He tries to push the door open but quickly finds it blocked by some foreign obstruction on the other side. He sneaks around back, finding the same old crawlspace he would use as an young child to sneak out of his lessons. He crawls inside to find the entire house deserted, and the door covered with wooden beams. He makes his way up the stairs, the same old creek resonating at the top step just next to his parents room so they could make sure he wouldn't sneak out at night. He slowly pushes his door open at the end of the hallway. He finds his old room untouched, the accumulating dust over the years being the only sign that time had indeed passed. A picture of his family, his father angrily partially ripped off, lay on the wall. He removes the picture and lays in his bed, tears streaming down the young boys face as the screen fades to black. A faint whimper "Mom?..Where did you go?"

Tana
“STOP IT,” a cry of a young girl cries through the empty dirt-filled streets of Merrowcreek as the setting sun casts the shadows of the neighboring roofs over 3 young boys surrounding the tiefling.

“Oh come on now girly, we’s just having a bit of fun is all, not everyday a tiefling graces this shoddy old town with her presence.” One of the boys, clad in an unbuttoned vest, to small for his rotund physique, whistles out from behind his rotten teeth. “Even rarer to see her without dear ol’ mummy followin’ behind her in every step. Heck,” He tugs back on the girl’s long white hair, “Without her around we can finally give you a good ol’ fashioned welcome. My daddy says that it’d be impolite of me if I didn’t.” The boy reaches into the bag he has saddles at his side, his hand oozing with a thick black slime as he retracts it from the satchel. Laughing the boys runs the sludge through the girl’s hair, “We’re here to help you, I mean afterall, you did miss the memo about how you tieflings are supposed to have dark hair.” The three begin to push the girl around, tugging at her clothes and hair as she stumbles to the ground in tears.

“SAM!!” The thunderous cry of young boy echoes through the alley as the three boys look over their shoulders to see a blonde haired boy, his head  dropped down to his shoulders charge head first into the stomach of the fat child. Fixing himself atop the now toppled boy and throwing punch after punch into his rotten smile. “I heard you guys made Ugthock drink that sludge down by the docks again!” The two drop the young tiefling and run in to aid their fallen leader. An aggressive shove to the side of his chest knocks the young blonde boy off of the fat child, sending the boy tumbling across the dirt road.

“Back off fart-breath!” the fat childs scream at the blonde haired boy, a vaporous gas beginning to leak from his mouth.

“Get out of here Stromcaller, we ain’t dun nothin,” Sam, with the help of his two friends, hoists himself up off the ground, wiping the dirt off his ilfitted vest. “This ain’t got nothing to do with monsters like you either. You know, my Daddy---”

“Don’t call me a monster!” a thunderous cry stops Sam, the blonde boy now surrounded by an enormous cloud of fog, a pale blue energy pulsing across his scar and eyes. The boy slams his fist against the ground in blind anger, a large crack of thunder echoing through the alley as his fist collides with the stone earth. The three ruffians topple over one another as they retreat from the scene.

“One of these days Stormcaller, were gonna take care of you like the monster you are!” Sam peers over his shoulder, his rotted teeth festering in a coy smirk. The smoke and static fade from the blonde haired boy, who collects himself and sees the tiefling girl crying on the ground. He gives himself two quick claps on the side of his head as he walks over, his ears ringing from the thunderous clap moments before, extending his hand to help the young girl up. Her silver eyes almost completely covered by clumps of her hair now sticking to her skin because of the black sludge.

“ARE YOU ALRIGHT?” The boy shouts, not realizing how loud he actually is as the girl stumbles back, holding herself up only by the support he is lending. She nods her head silently, looking into the boy's eyes, seeming to swirl with dark smoke. “SAMS KIND OF A JERK, ISN’T HE?!” the boy shouts in effort to break the silence, not realizing the actual reason he cannot hear the girl. She mumbles something which the boy cannot understand in his current state. “UH….YEAH I GUESS!” a giant smile spreads across the girl's face as she excitedly pulls him through alleyways, up the mountain into a giant pond where she pulls him in as she makes one giant leap into the watery reflection of the red sun. She swims toward the bank and begins to try and work the black sludge out, unfortunately with no luck. The boy, still thoroughly confused, treads water in the center, watching as she occasionally waves to him. She looks around the bank of the pond grabbing a sharp rock and begins to cut through the many tufts of hair, fraying at the ends from the crude means of cutting. The boy, regaining his hearing after sometime, swims over toward the girl, still cutting away at the hair, attempting to even her hair as much as she can in her reflection in the water. He pulls himself out of the water, sitting next to her as she continues to cut away at her hair. “So, wouldn’t it be better to get someone else to cut it?” the boy hesitantly asks, unsure what to make of the situation.

“If my mother saw me come home with that stuff in my hair I would never get to see the light of day again. She is already over protective because of...well...look at me. Besides, she has put enough on the line for me, I don’t want to see her ruin herself even further for me. It is better she thinks I just tried cutting my hair for the fun of it.” The calm airiness to her voice expertly covering the fact that she had just been attacked in the streets. “I’m Tana by the way,” her fangs clearly showing through her enormous smile, “Tana Marivaldi.”

My Resignation
The cart creeks over the hill toward the same old rusty waters, the autumn wind rustling through the last of the leaves still holding onto the trees. A hooded figure with dirty blonde tufts of hair peeking out from beneath the cowl sits at the helm. A  large crate, placed carefully in the back of the cart, rattles with an an odd metallic clink with each bump on the dirt road as it heads toward the old wooden bridge of Merrowcreek. Two individuals clad in shining armor stand ready at the edge of the bridge, gesturing the cart to stop. “Name and business?” they monotonously ask, the hooded man raises his head to greet the two of them.

“Dreynar Stormcaller, I just have to drop off a shipment for the local metallurgy guild, sounds like they’ve been waiting for this for a while. I don’t mean any trouble.” The guards check the man’s papers and the crate in the back of cart, one letting out a whistle of astonishment as he sees the large supply of mithril stored in the box.

“So you're with the guild, huh? Well everything seems to check out Mr. Stormcaller, you're free to go. Good thing that bounty is off your head or you’d have half the city looking to cash in. Before you head in though, do you have any interest in joining the enlightened flame?”

“Thank you very much, but I think I am going to pass for now, got a little too much on my mind at the moment. Hope you enjoy the rest of your shift.” The cart resumes its journey across the bridge toward the large stone building just near the bank of the river. Dreynar jumps down from his seat and heads toward the back of the cart, separating a large pouch of gold into two unequal amounts, taking roughly 250 of the pieces and stashing them in a small satchel tied to his leg. Dreynar places one of the sacks atop the box of mithril along with a letter and carries the package over, fear clearly present in his step, setting it down just outside the door. Dreynar grabs the heavy knocker placed at the center of the door and gives it two great raps. A human, covered in soot from his time in the forge opens up the the door, the smile on his face quickly disappearing as he meets eyes with Dreynar.

“What do you want?” A low angry growl resonates from the man. Dreynar points down to the box. The man pushes him out of the way, carrying the box into Iron Wing with the door slamming loudly behind him.

“Well,” Dreynar rubs the back of his neck, “That went better than expected,” and jumps back onto the cart, heading down the back alleys until reaching a small rundown shop that was all too familiar for him. The door creaks open as it always had, the bell fixed atop ringing as he enters. A beautiful woman in her early twenties strolls through the doorway behind the counter and gives a small smile in efforts to cover up the clearly impatient expression on her face.

“Well, well, well, and here I thought you were never gonna come and pay me back...You do have the money right? Because otherwise we have a problem.” her eyes glinting red as she lowers herself closer to the shops main desk.

“Come on Lynx, you know me better than that,” Dreynar pulls out the other pouch he had divided earlier and places it on the table, the weight of its contents shaking the vials that sit atop as it collides. He turns and saunters toward the door, giving a backwards wave, goodbye, as he reaches for the handle.

“Dreynar wait,” he freezes in place, “We have a new potion in, if you still want to try and fix your..uhh...blemish.” He straightens up, pulls open the door and gives Lynx a smile and another wave goodbye.

“Tell Bryn I said hi if you see her.”  as he continues out the door.

Dreynar takes the cart down the shores of the copper coast, heading up the small path that leads into the coves along the mountains, eventually making his way up to the old hideout where the hoodrats would meet every day. He struggles to push himself through the entrance, but eventually succeeds after sometime. The place lay exactly as he remembered it. Terrance’s books lay scattered over by the collecting pool, most haphazardly left open in order to make sure he could pick up right where he left off. Tana’s list of names that had grown to encompass not only the floor but the walls as well, remain untouched. Zac’s “elven-made” blanket lay on the floor in the corner, untouched since the last time the traveling bard had stopped by for a visit. The twin’s tower sat clean as ever and the many machines that he and Adam had stolen over the years cluttered the corner. The drift globe they had accidentally appropriated years ago still rested firmly in  the ceiling of the cave, seemingly embedded for the rest of its existence. Dreynar grabs one of the machines and stands atop it to reach the ceiling, trying to dislodge the orb from the cave with no luck. “Huh, for once I kinda wish Lewella was here. Could actually do something constructive with all that brawn”

“Who’s Lewella?” a voice chirps from behind as Dreynar, startled, falls off his makeshift stool and knocks himself unconscious as the back of his head smacks the cold, hard earth that lay beneath him.

A sudden cold sensation comes over Dreynar’s body as he finds himself submurged beneath the clear waters. Surprised, Dreynar flails around in Terrance’s pool, looking around frantically for his assailant only to see the smirking Tana Marivaldi, her feet kicking in the water. “Your hair actually looks okay for once.” her playful voice echoes through the cavern, “So, who’s Lewella?”

“A co-worker is probably the best way to describe it.” he says, brushing his hair back to get it out of his eyes. “Was all this really necessary? You know swimming isn’t exactly my first choice for a recreational activity.” He exclaims trying his best to hide happiness beneath an overly perturbed face.

“Please, I was going to push you in whether you bumped that thick skull of yours on the floor or not.” her smirk changing to a proud smile revealing her long-fang fang like canines. “Besides, think of it as payment for not keeping in touch like you said you would.” As she grips onto the small bevel of the edge.

“You haven’t tried to get in touch either there, Linen,” The expressions instantly  switching between the two as Dreynar mentions the name.

“You know I hate that name, Dreynar!” Tana pointing furiously toward Dreynar as her fist clenches with complete and absolute rage.

“Oh I am more than aware Tana, but I needed to let go of that ledge.” Tana’s eyes open up in horror as a gust of wind sends her head first into the water with a terrifying shriek. Dreynar swims up to the newly dowsed tiefling, her short white hair now draped across her horns,  and whispers into her ear, “Think of it as payment for not keeping in touch like you said you would,” his ever-smug smile present on his face as he playfully swims around Tana, stopping as he sees her shiver in the water. His smile changes from glee to that of a warm understanding, “Come on, let’s get you dried off.”

Dreynar sets up a small fire in the old pit, formed by Ugthock’s proud collection of over sized stones,  as both sit there shaking from their wet clothes. An awkward silence falling over the pair. “So….how has your mom been doing,” Dreynar asks in desperation to break the silence.

“Good...she has been good.” Her voice shaking in surprise

“That’s good to--” “Is it true? “the joyful tone in her voice had vanished, “Everything they say you’ve done. I mean you have been pardoned now, but people’s homes don’t just randomly explode. All of Iron Wing disappeared. They came by to let Adam’s parents know that he was dead! You had a boutny on your hear for the longest time and now they are praising you and you as a hero? What did you do!?....Dreynar...THIS INS’T YOU!” Her words bursting out in a slew of confusion, worry and anger. “What happened out there….What happened to you?” Dreynar curls up, pulling his knees closer and tucking his chin between them as he stares into the fire, as if looking for answer.

“I….” he stutters, “I screwed up Tana...I really can’t explain it more than that. I mean, I thought was in the right at the time but now I don’t even know. I just wish there was a way to undo all of this but….” Dreynar lets out a heavy sigh as he rests his head atop his knees, hiding his face in his arms. His muffled voice permeating out, “People got hurt because of me….. people.. died because of me. My best friend is dead and lying in some unmarked grave because of me.” Dreynar recounts the parties tale, his voice progressively wavering with the story. “Tana, this entire time I’ve been trying to prove them wrong, but I think I just,” he struggles to speak between heavy sobs, “…...I think they were right about me...I am a monster.” Tana scoots toward Dreynar wrapping her arms around him in an attempt to comfort her childhood friend.

“Look,” the worry in her voice replaced by a soft comforting warmth, “I don’t know what you’ve done, but I do know this is the Dreynar I remember. This impulsive crybaby who just wants to see the world smile. The Dreynar Stormcaller I know, isn’t that monster that from those fliers, and I know that you are not either. I thought that somewhere along the way you had lost yourself…. I am glad I was wrong.” A smile of relief unfolding from her once worried quiver.

“So what?” Dreynar raises his head to meet eyes with Tana, his eyes burning with anger and fear. “You are just gonna pretend that none of it happened? Tana, I am grateful, but you can’t just ignore everything I’ve done. FOR THE GODS SAKE, TANA YOU SHOU--”

“Dreynar wouldn’t have done any of those things.” She cuts him off, “I don’t know who you were out there, but you’re back now... right?” The fire in his eyes calms. “Now’s the time to turn it around, atone for whatever horrible things you had to do.” Another eerie silence falls about the cave. “Maybe you could use some of your earnings from Iron Wing to start giving back.” Tana suggests in yet another attempt to break the silence. Dreynar’s head drops back into his knees, a muffled chuckle coming from the broken man. “I resigned this morning….I can’t show my face there again after everything I’ve done to them.”

“Are you going to be okay?” Tana tightening her embrace.

“...I honestly don’t know.” he says beneath his breath as tears stream down the sides of face onto the cold hard earth below.

Unfortunate Reunions
The cool winter breeze whistled down the snow covered alleys of Merrowcreek as Dreynar and TImmy push against the cold air toward the camp that set atop of the hill. The people of Merrowcreek had given the Enlightened Flame room there to practice and for any general meeting that they might need to call. On any other day, Dreynar would hear the laughter of the group from outside the walls of the keep, but there was something different about today, something in the air just didn’t feel right. Reaching the wall and slowly pushing open the gate, Dreynar gets a glimpse of the group, everyone standing perfectly still; backs straight, head held high. “What’s goin on guys? I haven’t ever seen you guys all so stiff.” Dreynar saunters through the rest of the way through the door, turning to meet the cold, golden eyes of black haired elven man atop a horse. Gririel stands next to him, pressing the palm of his scaly hand against the bridge of his snout in efforts to bury his face inside it.

“Mr. Thunderburker I presume.” The low growl of the man belows toward he and  Timmy. “What a pleasure that you ,might grace you with your presence. I was worried I might not get the chance to make your acquaintance during my inspection, what with your impressive record of attendance” The terror in Dreynars face fades,

“I’d recognize that voice anywhere,” he chuckles, “Aryn, you old bastard, how are you doing?” He runs up to shake hands with the elven man.

“I would think you would have gathered from your fellow comrades that you are to stand at attention and honor your superiors...Boy.” Dreynar stops in his tracks, “As a member of the Enlightened Flame you are to represent yourself as a prime paragon of Virtue and Valor. This includes being punctual Mr. Thunderburker.”

“Oh, come on Aryn, I me--”

“Lieutenant if you would”

“Okay...Lieutenant. As I was saying it isn’t like being a few minutes late for practice is going to be the end of the world.

“It is the principle of the situation Mr.Thunderburker.” the elven man begins to dismount the horse, “ Indeed, there is no immediate threat to being tardy. However, your actions insinuate a lack of self control and yourself devoid of motivation, traits that only the most undesirable have.” Dreynar stands there in complete shock as the man removes his gloves and reaches into the chest of the training equipment, rarely opened with the exception of the occasional sparring matches between members. “If you believe that you are at no fault however, and that I, Lucien Summermist (changed when he adopted his adult elven name), who trained directly under our Lady, Morgan Ridley, speak fallacies I entreat you to prove me wrong.” The elven man pulls out two wooden swords from the chest and urges Dreynar to draw forth his as well.

“Really Aryn, come on, you know me better than this. You know I get the job done. There isn’t really a need for this.”

“Yet another incorrect answer Mr. Thunderburker. You seek to challenge my authority, and as a member of the Enlightened Flame you will do so with action, not with incoherent, poorly placed ramblings. In regards to our childhood time spent together, I remember you and Sharpe often carried trouble in your wake, but nothing of worth could be found within your character.” A sick malicious smile oozes from his cross expression.

“Well,” Dreynar pulls out a shield and training sword from the chest, “at least it is good to see some things never change. I mean after all, it has been seven years and you’re still a prick.” Lucien mumbles to himself beneath his breath, disappearing with a blink of the eye. Dreynar stumbles back in shock as a wooden training sword, shrouded in a white flame, lunges over his shoulder.

“I hope you are all paying attention, for I am about to make an example out of this miscreant.” Lucien darts forward, humming beneath his breath, as each swing of his sword clads the wooden blade in a divine fire. Dreynar tries to parry the swings and create an opening to strike, but is met by a rhythmic plethora of strikes that throw his shield arm aside. “As I said, stand at attention before your superiors.Just because you changed your name does not mean  I will acknowledge you for anything but that filth of a wanton rat that I know you and Sharpe to be.” Lucien drops Dreynar to ground with one quick jab of the illuminated blade to the forehead.