Semorai by Hexdrake on DeviantArt (original) (raw)

Here is Semorai, Keyrel's girlfriend, now deceased. You will find the first part of the story here:

This render was done in Daz and edited with Photo Affinity. The base character was Ai with plenty of morphs, along with YouTel's skin, lightened, and quite a few morphs and tattoos. Speaking of those, you'll notice the cobra tattoo on her shin - that was done by Sir Maverick over on Renderosity who posts lots of great inks in their Freebie section. Any questions about the wardrobe, hair, or rather cool maul I made by sticking Prophecy Studio's skull on one end and doing extensive reshading. Anyway, I hope you guys like her and find time to read the continuation of my story. Warning - the story does not feature Semorai, I just really wanted to do a render of her even though she's not in it. Maybe she will find her way in the next part of the story

Into the Sunlight

As I exited the inn in haste, leaving behind mocking laughter and jeers, but keeping my life, I noticed it was strangely quiet. The hunters and traders of the berg had seemingly vanished. I gazed around in wonder and then I saw it – a light signal via mirror. Before I knew it, my whole company had emerged from hiding and were advancing towards the Half-Measure Inn in low crouches.

Commander Sagemoon himself was leading the group, but he managed to take time out give me a meaningful look and grasp my shoulder, letting me know I had done well. Somehow that didn’t help things. He bade me to head into their camp in the forest – the villagers had been taken there for Lunar Company’s protection as well as their own. I knew the thoughts running through my head would likely get me or someone else killed, so I left.

The battle in Half-Measure Inn was not a half-measure by any stretch of the imagination. Despite the half-breeds being surprised and without armor, they fought like demons, every one of them. In particular, the half-orc amazon proved troublesome. During the chaos, she had somehow managed to get a hold of a rather imposing maul. Her swings cut large arcs through the elven lines – every once in a while connecting and leaving a soldier with a broken bone and out of the fight. She was also just as dexterous as her opponents, and while they managed to score a dozen cuts, she avoided any that would bring her down.

Commander Sagemoon almost decided to engage her himself, but wisely decided against it as two of his soldiers dodged her latest blow and the maul broke a support timber in half, bringing part of the ceiling down on the melee. The other half-breeds were either dead or too wounded to continue, but still she fought on. He ordered a shield formation, and soon the elves faced her with a line of sturdy metal shields backed by a half score of spears. The half-orc grinned and spit a gobbet of blood and snot at them, proclaiming she was going to pulverize every last fucking elf. Commander Sagemoon decided to take her at her word and ordered his archers to advance and fire at will.

The amazon was hurled backwards as twenty arrows landed at various intervals – some while she was flying through the air – and she landed with a crash behind the bar. The soldiers stood at the ready as they heard a sorrowful admission of love in Elven. The one-eyed barkeep then made his appearance, lobbing balls of fire with abandon whilst using the bar for cover and magically shielding himself from the resultant hail of arrows.

Luckily for the commander and his company, the barkeep was trying to cast too many spells in too short a space of time and managed to incinerate himself for his efforts. It was a grim scene, and there would be grimmer work to follow. Keyrel was upstairs, waiting for them in one of the inn rooms no doubt. The close quarters would make their numbers meaningless, so the commander ordered a brute assault. The troops were to push forward no matter the consequence and crowd the area as much as possible. With that many soldiers packed into one area, Sagemoon hoped that she wouldn’t have enough room to maneuver, and he could capture her.

He shouted to the outside forces to search the area for drow weaponry – there was supposed to be a large shipment somewhere. He told Curate Autumnleaves to watch the stairs and assigned an honor guard – two elves in plate with slim curve blades that would be useless in close quarters anyway. He then led the charge up the stairs as twenty of his soldiers poured into the rooms above, intent on cornering Keyrel.

The rooms were unoccupied, but after a ten-minute search one of his soldiers exclaimed he had found a trapdoor. His commander had a puzzled look on him as the soldier pulled a rug up and lifted the door. That was strange, it seemed to lead to a kitchen.

During this time, Keyrel had silently dropped down behind her enemies and approached from behind the bar, pausing at her downed lover. She narrowed her eyes, removed a silver ring from the half-orcs ring finger, and then removed the finger as an afterthought. It was highly unlikely that she would find someone that could resurrect her love, but she had to try.

It was easy enough to sneak up to the trio whose attention was on the search above them. She smiled to herself despite the situation…soldiers and their armor she thought. Her enchanted blades dropped the guards in less than a second. The surprised priestess backed away and went to the clerical go-to in battle, a hold spell. Her eyes widened further as Keyrel cut downward with her rapier and she found herself paralyzed herself. She immediately stopped concentrating on the magic, but it seemed to have a life of its own at this point. The curate watched in horror as Keyrel detached the almost living-looking spider from her rapier and placed it on the ground beside her.

“I never thought I would have to use this, but you people forced my hand. I vow from this day forward, my destruction will make every demon jealous, devils will weep at the tortures I inflict, and the daemonic soldiers of Gehenna will marvel at the cold death I deliver. I will hunt every Silverymoon elf until there is no more, until Silverymoon’s streets look like the inside of the Half-Measure Tavern. You will deliver my message – I have faith they will at least attempt to raise your corpse.”

The curate would have let out a moan of fear at this point, had she not been paralyzed.

“You see, I keep up the reputation of working with the drow for a reason. I helped deflect the worst of their raids. I made sure their targets were military and not civilian. I sent them on wild chases and led Many Arrows tribes to their caches and hidey holes. All I asked in return was a place to call my own where my kind could live a decent life. And then you come, feigning a request for help to draw me out, and then slaughter my kith and kin and take the woman I was to marry three days hence from me, possibly forever. I turn my back on all that is elven. You are pathetic, arrogant bastards will feel my disdain, and you shall be the first. And then, I have a dagger to retrieve from a very naughty little half-elf soldier.”

The worst part for the curate is the fact she couldn’t see the spiders’ slow crawl into her uniform, but the paralyzation was no panacea for the thousands of bites that followed. When her fellows dropped down from above and made their way into the great hall of the tavern, they were horrified. Two of their fellows were down, dying in pools of their own blood, and all that was left of the only person capable of saving them a skeleton crawling with thousands of spiders.

An elf burst in through the front doors of the inn, proclaiming loudly,

“No sign of the drow here, commander. Not a blade or vial of poison, and none of the prisoners seemed to be lying when they said no drow came here,” he followed his fellows’ gaze to the unrecognizable corpse crawling with spiders. A funny thought entered his head, now that’s drow work for sure. He then threw-up his breakfast. The commander broke the spell the sight of their trusted cleric’s fate had cast upon them, shouting to move out immediately. The prisoners would be taken to Silverymoon for suspected involvement with the drow, but more importantly they must get to them for that is where Lunar Company’s new Junior Lieutenant Lukian was instructed to go.

A Can of Spiders

Commander Sagemoon looked down at the dying soldier in his arms, watched as some sort of venom wormed its way into his system, making his veins stand out and blacken.

“I scored a hit on her, commander. She managed to stab me anyway, but I got her, too! I did well, didn’t I? I can tell by the look in your eyes. Don’t worry commander, this will heal up and we’ll have those drow bastards. I just, I just think your blood would taste sooooo good.”

Sagemoon jumped back, prepared for the eventual change. He put down Junior Lieutenant Lukian for good. The other soldiers were staring in shock, as the commander said in a low voice,

“Good job soldier. There’s a place for you at Corellon’s side, you’ll find him waiting.” Except the last of it came out as a sob. Oloric and Olana, the elven twins who went out of their way to torture Lukian, looked at one another with shame in their eyes. The injuries on the elves that had participated in the Half-Measure Inn battle ran deep and were raw, as they knew that they had killed innocent men and women. The commander could see the doubt in the faces of his soldiers, the knowledge of what they had done. Everyone one of them knew in their heart that they had demonized their kin in that moment, you had to make them the enemy. But now they had made the wrong person their enemy.

The uncanny rendition of Keyrel’s words, spoken via the curate and a speak with dead spell, lingered in their minds. Some of the others stumbled off, wondering if Keyrel would consider them an enemy and this would be their fate. Others began crying – grown soldiers used to bitter wars. Commander Sagemoon knew he had to step in.

“He did his duty, allow him the honor of that. It is obvious my sources were feeding me information, and this was a drow setup. Now I know how a fly feels caught in the spider’s web. We can’t do anything about Keyrel for now, she took one of her friend’s fingers so maybe she will try to get a resurrection, and maybe that will buy us some time. It is clear to me that the drow have friends; perhaps in the highest places in Silverymoon. Now they have an unwitting ally, perhaps the best assassin in the North judging by her work. The odds are against us, but we have each other, and we have Corellon – trust in both and we will find a way. We will have to bring these hunters to Silverymoon and have the diplomats smooth this over, as there won’t be a settlement in the area that will trust us once this gets out. Anything unusual, anything spider-related happens, and you report it to your superior immediately. It looks like the drow are back, and they are using the old ways. Take heart in that, for if they had the military might to march on us, they would have done so already. Now gather your wits and the horses and move out. And Quina, straighten your uniform girl. You look like a human whore with your chest showing like that.”

That earned a laugh from the soldiers and Quina herself – she did tend to show a bit more cleavage than was decent and was lucky she hadn’t taken an arrow to the chest. The elves broke camp in somewhat higher spirits.

True, their ancient enemy had returned, and their manipulations were masterful, but Lunar Company wouldn’t be caught with their pants down again. Next time, they would string a trap or raid the drow. A lone figure cloaked in shadow watched as the elves broke camp. She was too far away to hear the proceedings, but she could hear the laughter on the wind; it was as clear as daylight.