A Journey Retaken
A "Legend of Drizzt" OC Fanfiction by: Sephiroth'sGhost
A/N: So, been working on this and it may get some teaking for finite details later on. This is an OC fic set in the Forgotten Realms series that is most familiar to those who play Dungeons and Dragons. The OC in this story just happens to be my very first D&D character and this is serving as his backstory. I've been working on it for about a month now and decided to go ahead and publish/post this for others to enjoy as well. Comments/Questions/Etc are encouraged! Please Review/Favorite/Comment if you like it! PEACE! 3
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, though RA Salvatore seems like a pretty chill guy from the vibes I get off of Twitter :3
WARNINGS: PTSD, flashbacks of violence, blood, etc... sorry if I left anything out!
Sitting here in the silence, I can't help but to reflect on my past... N'a'shezbaernon, a name uttered by only those who know not it's connotations, haunts my every step as I journey to the surface. It is the name of a clan that holds only a single survivor, and that survivor is the only one of our kind to have forsaken our dark legacy and seek out a new life: Drizzt Do'Urden. A name that pulls my aching body forward even as exhaustion takes over so that I tumble in a heap in the middle of a corridor, surrounded by the oppressive darkness that is common of the Underdark.
I wake in the same tunnel hours later, my thoughts scrambled and head throbbing painfully. I reach up and feel a wetness on the side of my head. I look and easily recognize the distinctive heat gradations of fresh blood. Smirking, I realize that I must have hit my head a lot harder than I thought. I slip into a small side cavern a few hundred meters down the tunnel and pull some binding and salve out of my pack and bind my head. What I don't use I return to my pack and then pull out some rations. A while passes as I sit and eat the meager meal, washing it down with some water from a half empty flask.
My thoughts cycle back to earlier and I shudder at the memory; six Driders had chased me down on what I'm sure was the command of my Matron Mother. I can still hear the clacking of spiders' legs and see the dulled eyes of the unfortunate drow that had been sacrificed for the creation of those disturbing creatures... Truly, only a Yochlol could be more terrifying.
With that oh-so-pleasant thought I roll to my feet and head down the tunnel toward the heat signature of warm water. Once there I check my surroundings and, after discerning that for the moment at least, I am alone, I strip and ease into the water. I close my eyes and let my muscles relax, my left hand resting on my loaded hand crossbow at the edge of the pool. Opening my eyes slightly I gaze where my reflection ought to be on the water's surface and scowl at the visage that greets me - heat, nothing but gradations of heat from the water itself and my body beneath its' surface. Snarling, I slash my right hand through the water before me and dive under the water. I surface quickly and get out, eager to be on my way. I don my clothes and fresh bandages before gathering my things, securing my bo staff and hand crossbow in their respective positions, and hurrying out of the cavern and continuing on my journey
I shut off all thoughts but the ones directed towards getting to the surface alive - if Drizzt could do it nearly twenty years ago, than what was there to stop me now? This thought locked firmly in the forefront of my mind, I slip into the shadows of heat along the tunnel walls and pass the many denizens of the Underdark unnoticed, my body acting on pure instinct alone. Days pass - or at least, it feels like it's been days - before I run across anything even remotely resembling civilization. I use my innate powers of Levitation to lift myself into a small indentation near the top of a tunnel where some svirfneblin are hard at work mining the precious metals and stones from the walls beneath my position. I curl up into a comfortable position and watch as one, which appears to be the leader, goes at the stone with their mace and pickaxe arms. A whisp of a memory tugs my thoughts inwards and I recall a tale the Masters at Melee Magthere told me and the others in my class of a svirfneblin that had lost its hands but kept its life because of the twisted manipulations of a certain traitorous Drow...
Rumors spread and were eventually settled as information filtered in about a svirfneblin seen traveling the Underdark with a violet eyed Drow, his hands a pickaxe and mace of the finest quality. I huffed a silent laugh to myself as I drew my consciousness back to the present, musing of how ridiculous the Drow community was at refusing to even mention the Drow in question's name. I leaned my head back on the cool stone and let one leg fall to hang over the edge of my nook, not caring if any of the gnomes looked up and noticed me now. I was, after all, a Drow Noble with knowledge of many languages - and two-tone violet eyes. At a distance I have been mistaken several times in the past as the renegade Drow of House Do'Urden. Perhaps that is why my Matron Mother had my eldest sister cut half of my hair off - a bit from each side so that I might keep the basic cut of one of Menzoberannzan's Noble' course they didn't want anyone to think they were sheltering one such as him in their home
But that aside, I honestly pose no intentional threat to the gnomes. If they capture me I am confident that they will at least take the time to hear me out like they did for a certain other renegade... I say "other" because I am a renegade myself now. I do not wish to say it is entirely for pure purposes that I left my city, my home, my family... rather, I left because I wished to escape the insanity of my people and the terror of their Goddess, Lolth.
Noise below draws my eyes down and I see the svirfneblin running about and shouting, all pointing towards where I am ensconced. The leader stands still in the middle of the chaos, their pickaxe and mace hands raised and staring at me in what I can only describe as curiosity laced with steadfast determination, possibly even hope in their eyes - I dismiss that thought as soon as it enters my mind.
I close my eyes and exhale slowly before locking eyes with the lead gnome and nodding solemnly, acknowledging their presence and nothing more. I turn my gaze to the wall of the tunnel opposite me, waiting for the gnomes to make their move. The noise quiets and I close my eyes once more, not caring what happens next. At this point I am just glad to have escaped the clutches of my people and their wretched Goddess, though I do still long to see the surface.
I feel something hit my leg and something shouted in Gnomish that I don't recognize at first, but quickly remember translates roughly to: "Hey, you! Blockhead! Get your pitch hide down here!" I snort and glance down to see the leader as the speaker, another small stone carefully balanced on his pickaxe hand. I raise an eyebrow but oblige his request, gently levitating down to the floor of the tunnel and hold my hands out wide, trying to appear as unthreatening as one of my race can possibly be. I watch as he takes in my fine clothing and weapons before raising his gaze to my face, which I keep carefully composed so as not to give away my emotions - more out of habit, but still.
"Drop your weapons, Drow! And no funny business!" I openly snort at this request, startling a nearby miner gnome who lunges forward with his pickaxe aimed for my stomach. I watch the scene unfolding with calm indifference on my face, knowing that they had every right in the world to want to kill me and feed my corpse to the scavengers of the Underdark, maybe even stake my head as a warning to other Drow who wandered into their territory - such things weren't unheard of, after all.
To my complete surprise, the leader lunges forward and deflects the attack away from me and into the stone, sending sparks flying in every direction. Confusion flits across my face as I stare at the old gnome, with which he returns with a pointed glare at my weapons. I take a deep breathe and slowly remove my weapons, including the ritual dagger I had stolen from the chapel in my home before leaving, evermoving spider designs dancing across its hilt. At this his eyes widen and zero in on the blade.
"Not a common Drow for sure, name ye're business here before I regret deflecting that pick." The rough tone is quite obviously an act for the others gnomes, but I decide to humor him. I stare calmly into his unwavering gaze as I lower myself to the floor in a sitting position, serving to put myself on his level in a dual show of respect and submittal to whatever he should decide. After all, sitting I have the disadvantage and we both know the other knows this as a slight nod is exchanged between us. He crosses his arms over his chest and stares down at me. "Well? Out with it ye durned elf!"
This time I can't hold back the laughter that passes through my lips nor the hand that flies up to try and stifle it. I slowly wipe a tear away from the darker of my two eyes and smile up at the old gnome, who is staring at me looking quite bewildered. I snicker a little more and calm myself, though I let a light smile play across my face. I tilt my head slightly to one side before deciding to speak, though my voice comes out barely above that of a whisper.
"I am traveling."
"Eh? Speak up! Can't anyone hear you when you speak softer than a panther's footstep." I sit up quickly at the mention of the black cat, the only cat I know of by such description and name to be the magical cat that walks with Drizzt. The gnomes around us jump back and tense, glancing nervously at their leader. I barely notice them though, my gaze fixated in the old gnome before me.
Tense moments pass and it seems everyone is doing their best to hold their breath, not a sound besides the nervous shuffling of feet and loose stones settling around us. Finally, the old gnome speaks, making all present (sadly, myself included) jump slightly at the sound.
"Durned elves... you know of the cat then?" I silently nod my head, not trusting my voice. "And of Drizzt too I suppose?" Again I nod, never taking my eyes off of him during the entire exchange. "And? What's yer durned purpose all the way out here away from that cursed city of yours?" My face falls into a blank slate and I look away, not wanting to speak of Menzoberranzan in any way shape or form.
I can feel his eyes boring into me but right now all I can think about is the arched cathedral of my old home. The neutral expressions on all of my family's faces as our neighboring house was attacked and slaughtered in a single night. The feel of a knife cutting my vocal chords when the Priestess at the academy decided I was asking too many questions about our society's way of life. Unconsciously I feel all of the gnomes eyes on me as my eyes close and my body falls towards the ground, the darkness of unconsciousness catching me before I hit the floor.
A/N: Reviews/Comments/Questions encouraged! Sorry to everyone expecting updates on my other fics, the plot bunnies keep running me around in circles T^T Until next time :D