Beauty and the Beast the Faerun Way by Wispr

Rating: R
Disclaimer: Buffy The Vampire Slayer belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and 20th Century Fox. The Forgotten Realms setting is owned by Wizards of the West Coast. Drizzt Do'Urden is own both by Wizards of the West Coast and Authored by R. A. Salvatore. No infringement of these copyrights is intended. All original characters are the property of Wispr.
Distribution:
FanFiction.Net: http://www.fanfiction.net/u/558797/Wispr
Passion & Perfection: http://www.ralst.com/storiesBtVS.html
Rebelrsr's Fanfiction Archive: http://rebelrsr.com/
The Mystic Muse: http://mysticmuse.net
Spoilers: This story starts the same night as the BTVS episode "Prophecy Girl.".
Feedback: Yes please! wispr@woh.rr.com
Author's Note: Big thanks to Rebelrsr for the betaing. I will be pretty much going by D&D 3.5 rules as a guide for those who are wondering.
Pairing: Willow/OC
Summary: Feeling abandoned by the Scoobies, Willow turns to magic for help. Her spell has unexpected consequences, however, and she wakes up in the world of Faerun, where her only ally is Lhyra - a girl running from her people's evil ways.

Joyce Summers let her shoulders sag. A wave of sadness washed through her as she puttered around the Gallery, straightening and dusting the artwork on display in an attempt to take her mind off recent events. It hadn't quite been a week and a half since she had received a call from Willow's mother Sheila, looking for Willow. The following day a grief stricken Xander had shown up to tell Joyce the news of Willow's disappearance, and asked if Joyce wouldn't mind relaying the news to Buffy.

From what Joyce could gather, Willow's parents had came home early from their business trip to find the house empty. They hadn't really thought much of it since Willow hadn't known of their change of plans. But when it grew later they began worrying and so called around, hoping someone knew where Willow was. When that had failed, they notified the police.

Calling Buffy had been one of the hardest things Joyce had ever had to do. It had made her proud of her former husband Hank that he had, without a word of complaint, driven Buffy back home that very night. The following days Buffy and Xander had spent a lot of time with the school's librarian, Mr. Giles, and the computer teacher, Miss Calendar. So much time, in fact that Joyce had finally confronted the two adults over the issue while Buffy and Xander were away, of course. Joyce didn't want to cause a scene in front of the two already upset teens. She had been embarrassed when Miss Calendar explained they were trying to keep the Buffy and Xander occupied by giving them some busy work at the school library in order to take their mind off Willow's disappearance.

Joyce had immediately apologized and thanked them for what they were doing; Mr. Giles and Miss Calender had apologized, too, for not letting Joyce know what was going on. Joyce realized they were as strongly affected by Willow's disappearance as Joyce.

The tinkling of the bell above the Gallery's front door brought Joyce out of her thoughts. She approached the couple, a man and woman about her age, dressed in rumpled clothes. Both of them had bags under their eyes. The women clutched a large stack of papers in her hands with a white- knuckled grip.

"Welcome to the Gallery; I'm the owner, Joyce Summers. Is there anything I can help you with?" Joyce said giving them a small smile.

The woman merely stared at her in a daze and then looked down at the papers in her hand. The man, dark hair shot through with gray, blinked before introducing them. "I'm Ira and this is my wife, Sheila Rosenberg."

Joyce gave them a look of concern. "I'm terribly sorry for what happened. Have you heard anything?"

Shaking his head, Ira replied. "No, we've hired a private investigator, and I've given him and the police my pager number so they can contact me immediately when they find her." Joyce heard the fervent hope in his voice, and it broke her heart. After so much time, the chances of a good outcome had drastically diminished. Even knowing the facts, though, Joyce shared the same hope as Willow's father.

"If it would be of any help, I would be glad to speak to the police or the private investigator," Joyce said.

Ira gave a nod of thanks "We would appreciate that, though most likely only the private detective will be contacting you." Joyce watched as Ira's expression hardened with suppressed anger. "The Sunnydale Police were rather blase about our daughter being missing. They have already written it off as either Willow running away or joining a gang."

Looking up from the stack of papers in her hand, Sheila spoke for the first time since entering the Gallery. "Willow never exhibited any of the behavior patterns associated with personality traits in teens that join gangs or that... that run..." She trailed off, a muffled sob tearing from her throat. Ira comforted her by putting his arm across her shoulders and pulling Sheila against him.

A polite cough from Willow's father let her know things were under control. Joyce turned as Sheila stepped forward with one of the sheets of paper thrust out. "Could you please hang this up?" Sheila's voice now held a mixture of fear and desperation, muted by exhaustion.

"I would be glad to," Joyce replied, glancing down at the missing person's posters with Willow's picture and, Joyce's eyebrows rose in surprise, a very large reward. "If you wouldn't mind, I'll take more of those and pass them on to my customers."

With tears brimming in her eyes, Sheila handed Joyce the entire stack, sans one page, which she clutched against her chest. Before Joyce could explain she didn't get that many customers, Ira spoke, "We have plenty of copies in the car." Judging by his expression, he knew what had been going through Joyce's mind.

"OK." Joyce accepted the stack of posters. "If you can spare a minute, I'll give you one of my business cards with my home phone number on it for the private investigator. Please let him know he can come by anytime, here or at home."

"Thank you," Ira said gratefully. "There's... one other thing we would like to ask you," He continued hesitantly. Joyce wasn't sure what it was he wanted to ask, but judging by the way Willow's mother shrank into herself, it wasn't good. "Did Willow spend a lot of time at your house?"

Joyce blinked in surprise, not quite sure where Ira was going. "Yes, didn't she tell you?"

Both of Willow's parents winced "We... You see we're child psychologists, and our careers have us travelling to seminars throughout the year," Ira said. "We made sure to teach Willow at a young age to be a strong and independent young woman, and based on our studies she was. Her GPA was above average. And during the time we were home, we made sure she wasn't exhibiting any signs of negative effect of our being away so much." Ira sounded as if he was pleading for Joyce to understand. "We thought we were doing the right thing, but when the private detective began to question us... We discovered we really didn't know our daughter. The only friends we could come up with were your daughter, Jessie, and Xander."

"Jessie's dead," Joyce said in a clipped voice. She was feeling appalled and dismayed at what she'd heard. Now she understood Willow's joy whenever Joyce would paid the least amount of attention to her. The poor girl must have been starving for attention.

Joyce lost her composure. Not bothering to keep the disgust from showing she cried, "God damn it, where have you been? He died in January." Joyce remembered asking Willow about her other friends, hoping that if Buffy hung out with others like Willow and Xander, it would help to keep her daughter out of trouble. Willow had sadly explained to her that Xander and Buffy were her only friends now because Jessie had passed away the first of the year.

"Oh." Ira glanced away in shame, while his wife buried her face into his chest, sobbing.

The other woman's obvious pain left Joyce battling the desire to throw Willow's parents out of her shop, preferable into traffic, against her inherit kindness. The kindness won out. "I'm sorry. I was out of line."

"No, you weren't. We deserved it with the way we... with how we treated our daughter." Ira was angry, more at himself than with her, Joyce thought.

Willow's mother lifted her head to face Joyce, her eyes puffy and red from crying. "Could you please tell us who our daughter was?"

With her bow in one hand, Willow fiddled with one of the straps of her backpack and wearily followed Lhyra as they made their way north-east across the grassland bordering the trees of the High Forest. Even after the last ten days of grueling training, Willow still struggled to keep the pace the large gnoll set. She managed, though, much to Willow's pride.

Willow might have been better off if Lhyra hadn't used her ranger abilities. Whenever they encounters a thick briar patch, she had Willow climb onto her back and then walked unimpeded through the thick brush. Lhyra explained this was a special power rangers gained when they grow in both skill, power, and, correspondingly, closer to nature. The first time Lhyra used this ability, without forewarning mind you, she picked Willow up bridal-style and walked right into a virtual wall of thorns and tangled limbs.

With a startled "Yeep," Willow hid her face against Lhyra's leather-covered breast in fear of the fast approaching and very painful encounter with nature. Instead of thorns plunging into her flesh, though, Willow felt... nothing. Thinking Lhyra had played a trick on her by somehow changing directions, Willow had twisted her head around to see what was going on. The sight that met her eyes took her breath away. Lhyra hadn't tricked her, or changed direction. Lhyra was moving effortlessly through the thick undergrowth, and the branches and vines simply flowed out of her way with a soft rustling sound.

Lhyra had quietly explained that one of a Ranger's duties was to protect the wood and land by asserting dominance over their territory. They did this in many ways: weeding out the weak and sick animals so only the strong survived and fighting the encroachment of civilization that destroyed the wild. Lhyra told Willow that when a Ranger's dominance over the land grew strong enough, the very plants cowered before the Ranger, making way so she could travel swiftly through her domain.

As Willow quietly watched the leaves and limbs give before them, she couldn't help noticing that the plants didn't seem to be cowering. Instead, they almost appeared to be bending knee to Lhyra in a kind of a quiet reverence.

Willow grinned as she glanced up at Lhyra's broad back, her large form shrouded by the camouflaged cloak. She could see how dominating the land fit Lhyra's personality and rather stark worldview. For Willow, after taking her first steps on her own path to being a Ranger, she already felt the barest hint of a connection to... well, to everything.

Intellectually, Willow understood she was a minuscule part of the universe, a single pixel lost amongst the millions of pixels in a high definition monitor. It had always left her feeling small and meaningless before. Now this new connectedness made her feel she was a part of something vast. Though it was humbling, it didn't leave Willow feeling isolated. Willow wanted to deepen and explore this new feeling, even if it meant the slowing of her magical studies.

With a shake of her head, Willow looked away from Lhyra and thought back to earlier in the day before they had left the town. They had stopped to see the Waukeen priest Counter Kendral, hoping to learn more of what had transpired behind the abduction of the Paladin and villagers. The small settlement, which sat close to the Heartblood River, where the raid took place acted as a way station for hunters and trappers. There was also a small congregation of followers of Ilmater, who gathered beneficial herbs from the surrounding forest. Counter Kendral explained that herbs collected along or near the Heartblood River area seemed to enhance the magical properties of both healing potions and tinctures.

The Paladin Lady Rohana Dalemend had apparently decided to escort a group women and teens out into the woods to collect some herbs. When Lhyra had asked why the Paladin was the only guard, the Waukeen priest shrugged and stated there was some confusion over that from the settlement. The group had been attacked by a group of around twenty slavers. One of the teens luckily had been overlooked and was able to report what he had seen. The slavers had struck fast and silently, the women and other teens rounded up with nets and spears while the Paladin had been laid low by several darts. Willow later learned the darts weren't the small playing darts she had in mind, but were more like oversized arrows that were thrown like a javelin. The darts used against the Paladin apparently had been coated with something that made the Paladin act drunk as the teen put it, making her capture easy. No slaver was seriously injured. When the teen reached the settlement with news of the kidnapping, none of the few remaining hunters had been willing to go after such a large number of slavers.

After Lhyra and Willow left Waukeen's Rest, Lhyra had explained that, from the descriptions given of the slavers, especially their use of the darts, she had a very good idea who they were and where they were headed. A specific spot on the Delimbyr River.

The Delimbyr River flowed from the north along the eastern edge of the High Forest. After cutting through a small part of the forest, it curved southwest where it hugged the southern edge of the High Forest. Several smaller rivers joined it, too. The Heartblood River, the river that flowed by Waukeen's Rest, was one of those rivers.

In the past three years, after the spring melt, a large group of slavers, mainly humans with a spattering of other races, would build two large camps opposite of one another across the Delimbyr River where it cut through the eastern edge of the High Forest. The camps would passed supplies and people back and forth using a large raft connected to several thick ropes strung across the river. Groups of slavers, numbering about fifteen to thirty, would be sent out from the camp on the western shore in search of slaves. Lhyra told Willow they had to find the group that had taken the Paladin before they reached the camp. The camps housed far too many for them to fight. Lhyra warned Willow it was going to be tricky enough to mount a rescue attempt.

Shifting her grip on her bow Willow scanned her surroundings like Lhyra had drilled into her. Willow found being ever vigilant when travelling one of the hardest and mentally tasking skills to learn. It had come to her that, when she had been on patrol with Buffy, she had heavily relied on the Slayer's senses to alert them to trouble. And with Lhyra's senses being almost as sharp or sharper in regard to smell, Willow found the habit hard to break.

Suddenly, a small furry animal dashed out from a small, unseen burrow in front of Willow. It ran across one of her feet, causing her let out a high pitched squeak of surprise as she jumped back.

Just as her feet touched the ground, the soil under Willow heaved, and something exploded out of the ground. Willow tumbled backward in an ungainly roll and came to a stop her bow still in her hand. In a mixture of amazement and horror, she watched the creature pull itself out of the earth.

It was a bug, a freaking huge, seven foot long, bug. With its back toward her, Willow couldn't see its head. From what she could see, it was reminiscent of a cross between a praying mantis and a cockroach. Each of its six legs ended in a single sharp claw. When Willow scrambled to her feet, puling an arrow from her quiver, the creature turned its head. Now Willow saw the two black insect eyes staring at her where they perched above a pair of large, scimitar-like mandibles.

Beyond the creature, Lhyra squared off against two other similar though larger creatures, one of which already had one of Lhyra's throwing axes buried in its thorax. Switching her gaze back to the creature in front of her, Willow took several hasty steps back while smoothly pulling an arrow from her quiver. Knocking it, she whispered, "Erthe istolla," which caused the arrow tip to glow a frigid blue.

The glowing arrow streaked across the space separating them, leaving a small trail of frozen mist behind it. Her aim was true, and the arrow burred into the bug's chitinous underside. Though the thick chitin kept the arrow from penetrating far, a hand span around the arrow point froze with an audible creaking sound.

The creature squealed in pain before charging at Willow with its deadly mandibles wide open. She desperately threw herself to the side to avoid being caught between the appendages. She was only partially successful. Willow did her own screaming as the point of one mandible tore through her tunic and sliced across her side just under her ribs. Reeling in pain and with a sense of desperation ...hello giant Willow-eating bug here... spurring her on, Willow rushed along the creature's length, switching the bow back to its sword form. Spying a small gap in the chitinous armor, Willow wrapped both hands firmly around the hilt and plunging the still frigid blade deeply into the exposed, soft flesh.

Willow expected the flesh around the sword to freeze like before. She wasn't expecting the expanse of blade still exposed to suddenly give off a flash of blue light as the very air around it explode with flakes of snow. With a startled yelp, Willow leaped back, leaving the sword in the creature's side. Willow's mouth dropped open as she caught sight of the creature's side once the miniature blizzard dispersed. Radiating several feet from where the sword was imbedded, the creature's carapace was covered in a thick layer of ice. Several of the creature's legs snapped off with a loud crack and it collapsed to the ground with a thud that Willow felt through her feet.

The sounds of continued battle snapped Willow out of her daze. Looking over Willow was just in time to see Lhyra finish off one of the creatures with a savage blow to its head. Before Willow could move, a weird bulge ballooned from underneath the last living creature's mandibles. Remembering lessons from Science class, Willow cried out a warning. "Lhyra watch out!"

A thick stream of some viscous fluid shot out at her girlfriend, who, hearing Willow's warning, tried to dodge out of the way. Unfortunately, she wasn't successful. Even as Willow raised her hand, pointing her finger at the creature and chanting words of power, the thick liquid splashed on the lower half of Lhyra's arm, liberally covering the gnoll's hand and throwing axe. The axe's wooden handle began to immediately smoke as if it was on fire though no flame was visible.

Willow ignored the wave of fatigue that washed through her as she channeled extra energy into her lesser orb of fire. The miniature fireball shot from her fingertip and slammed into the creature's side. The heat from the magically enhanced flames caused the creature's carapace to crack and buckle as the flesh underneath it baked.

Even with the horrific wound, the giant bug lurched toward Lhyra, snapping at her with its powerful mandibles. Dropping the now ruined throwing axe, Lhyra nimbly danced to the side, narrowly avoiding the grasping mandibles. With a grunt of effort, Lhyra smashed the blade of her battle axe into the side of the creature's head, almost cutting it from its body. Head grotesquely hanging by a few strands of tissue, the creature staggered forward several steps before falling to the ground, kicking up a small cloud of debris in the process.

Lhyra dropped to her knees, scrubbing her smoking hand with dirt. Willow run to her Lhyra's side only to stop when Lhyra glanced barked. "Get your gods be damned sword first!"

Skidding a little, Willow changed directions and retrieved her sword from the creature she had killed. After sheathing it, Willow ran to Lhyra. Dropping to her knees, she quickly chanted the invocation for her prestidigitation spell and held up her glowing hands. "Let me clean the acid off; you're getting dirt in the wounds." After catching a glimpse of the badly charred axe handle, Willow dreaded to see how badly the acid had savaged her girlfriends flesh.

In response, Lhyra gave her a bemused look before casually holding out her arm. With her eyes watering from the acidic smell and her stomach twisting into knots with fear, Willow carefully began to ran her hands over Lhyra's arm and hand. As the dirt and goo was magically removed, Willow eyes widened in shock. Lhyra's skin and her fur were untouched by the creature's corrosive spit.

Flicking her ears, Lhyra glanced down at her undamaged hand. "Malar's Blessing." Lhyra shook her head. "I didn't think I still had it after turning away from him."

Instead of answering her question, Lhyra said, "Let's move away from here and find someplace less out in the open to treat our wounds." She must have noticed Willow's disappointment for Lhyra reached over to gently ruffle Willow's hair. "Tonight, after we make camp, I will explain... it is just something I do not like talking about."

"OK." Willow grimaced as she pressed her hand to her bleeding side. The adrenalin was wearing off and it really hurt like the dickens. Though, as she glanced a final time at the creature she had killed, Willow couldn't help feeling a sense of pride at killing it by herself.

Author's Note: A huge thanks to Rebelrsr for getting this chapter edited during her very hectic work schedule.

With her belly full from the tasty and expensive trail rations they had bought in town, Willow snuggled up next to Lhyra, who was resting against a large tree stump. She sighed in contentment and gazed into the flickering flames of their small camp fire. Instead of making camp before sundown like Willow had thought they would, Lhyra had pushed on well into the evening, carrying Willow on her back. Lhyra had finally called it a day, or night as the case would be, and found a hollow depression amongst some large pine trees for their camp.

Willow glanced up at Lhyra's flame-lit features. Ever since she had mentioned Malar's Blessing earlier in the day, Willow could almost see a dark cloud hanging around her. Taking a deep breath, she reached up to stroke the side of Lhyra's muzzle. "Hey." Once she had gotten Lhyra's attention Willow went on. "If you don't want to talk about that Blessing thing, I'll understand."

Sighing, Lhyra didn't answer right away. She held up her hand, clawed fingers spread so they were backlit by the flames of the campfire. "See these claws?" Lhyra asked softly. She didn't wait for an answer. "You will not find any other gnolls with claws so long and sharp as mine." Lhyra leaned her head down and pulled her lips back to reveal her fangs. "Nor will you find a gnoll with such large and deadly fangs."

Lhyra leaned her head back against the trunk then took Willow by surprise, hugging her tightly with one arm. She covered Willow's mouth with her free hand, and as Willow watched in horror, stuck one of her large paws into the flames.

Willow struggled in vain against Lhyra's immense strength - and then stopped. Lhyra's fur wasn't burning. With her mouth still covered, all Willow could do was peer questioningly at Lhyra. Giving Willow a dark, yet humorous grin, Lhyra released her and pulled her paw out of the flames. Twisting around, Lhyra brought her paw up for Willow's inspection. To Willow's surprise, the only evidence to show the limb had been in the fire was a smoky smell, and the fur felt hot to the touch.

Lhyra answered, "Malar's Blessing." She flexed her toes before resting the paw back on the ground. "Minor fires, small amounts of acid, even lightning and cold such as your sword/bow is enchanted with do not affect me." Lhyra's expression grew thoughtful. "Or mayhap I should say it hardly effect me. If the flame is hot enough, or the acid strong enough, it will harm me, just not as badly as it would other gnolls."

Looking away from Willow, Lhyra ran her finger through her thick mane before continuing. "I have been bitten by some of the most venomous spiders and suffered no ill effects." Lhyra glanced down at Willow. "Even magic does not affect me at times; though, it seems more happenstance than anything."

Willow's eyes were wide and she rattled off several rapid-fire questions. "Is the Blessing some kind of magic item? Why didn't you say anything before now?" Willow admitted she was a little miffed at Lhyra for not telling her especially after Willow had divulged some personal stuff about herself.

Lhyra shrugged, completely unapologetic. "I have never had someone I could confide in before you. To answer your first question, no. It is not some kind of magic item. Malar's Blessing runs in my blood." Lhyra stared into the flames once again. "I did not receive his blessing directly from the Beast Lord himself, but from my mother, who passed it to me when I was born. The year I was born was the year the Gods themselves walked amongst the mortals."

"Um... Lhyra?" Willow hesitantly interrupted; something Lhyra said had caught her attention. "What do you mean, the Gods walked among the mortals?" Willow knew in her own world's mythology there were tales of Gods walking Earth, but those were myths. Lhyra was talking about something similar happening ...for real... only fourteen years ago.

Lhyra blinked at before chuckling quietly. "I actually forgot that you are from another realm. In the Year of the Shadow, the year I was born, two Gods stole a powerful magical tablet from the chief God Ao. From what I understand, Ao had already grown angry at the other Gods for not paying attention to their worshipers. Ao decided to punish the Gods and strip them of their Godhood. He cast them down to walk the land as mortals. They remained very powerful mortals, but they were now killable."

"Lhyra?" Willow once again interrupted. She was having a hard time wrapping her mind around what Lhyra was saying. "Now please understand I'm not making fun of your beliefs or anything, but how do you know it just wasn't some people claiming to be fallen gods? Maybe they simply had powerful magical items or spells or something."

Her question garnered a very odd look from Lhyra. "When the Gods were cast down, all who gained their spells from them lost the ability to cast spells unless they were very close to the their deity's mortal form. That was how their followers knew they were before their actual God and not some charlatan. I also was told that when people were in the presence of a God, even ones made mortal, they knew in their hearts who it truly was standing before them."

"OK," Willow said quietly. Lhyra's explanation left her more confuse than before, but she didn't want to press for details since she felt guilty for interrupting Lhyra.

"Anyway," Lhyra went on, "when the Gods were cast down, Malar fought Nobanion, the so called King of Beasts and lost. Afterward, Malar made his way to the Sword Coast. He was pursued by another fallen deity, Gwaeron Windstrom, and several of his followers. Malar swung north to pass through the High Forest to avoid them. At this time, my tribe, then known as the Bloodyfangs, was lead a by the family of Flind, and my mother was both the high priestess of Malar and a great huntress like myself," Lhyra boasted with no little pride.

After taking a drink from her water skin, Lhyra continued her tale, "When Gwaeron Windstrom, along with his followers, entered the High Forest in their hunt of Malar, my mother began to hunt them. So successful was she at this that it disrupted their search for Malar and thus gave him a brief respite from pursuit. In return for her services, Malar bestowed upon my mother his Blessing, to be passed down through her offspring. Though, it weakens with each passing generation."

Willow could feel Lhyra tensing. "My mother must have been mated very soon afterward receiving the Blessing. I was born four months later during the Feast of the Moon near the end of that year. My mother died while I was still a pup so I don't have many memories of her." When Willow offered her condolences, Lhyra waved them away and said with a grimace, "The only thing I gained from her was Malar's Blessing and all the attention it drew to me."

With another chuckle, Lhyra replied, "No, it was not good attention." Lhyra glanced down at Willow. "With gnolls, if a male wishes to mate a female and she refuses, he can either back down or prove his dominance over her. I entered my first heat when I was five winters - a few years younger than you are now, in human years. The older males were very interested in having me bear their offspring. I was not interested in the least and fought every attempt. But being so young, even with Malar's Blessing coursing through my blood making me far stronger than I should have been at my age, I was no match for them, at first. In the following two years, I littered three times, having five pups total." Lhyra gave out another ill-humored chuckle. "Like me, they carry Malar's Blessing in their blood which is proven by the number of them that were still alive when I left."

"You abandoned your own children?" Willow cried out in dismay. She truly felt sickened by what had been done to Lhyra; she simply couldn't imagine growing up in such a vicious social environment. But when it came to Lhyra leaving her children behind, that struck a nerve within Willow, for she knew what it was like being left behind by her parents very well.

Willow's remark wasn't very well received; Lhyra shoved her muzzle into Willow's face while she snarled, "Do not try to judge me by your human standards. I made sure they were weaned before letting them go to the warrens in the female area that the other cubs hid in. You see, once a cub is weaned, it hides in burrows that past generations of young have dug to hide from the tribe's males who, if hungry enough, would eat the cubs. It falls on the females to guard the burrows from both the males and other dangers." Lhyra leaned back. "Once the cubs went into the burrows, they were not mine anymore, but the tribe's. Unlike humans and other civilized people, there is no close family kinship."

"I'm sorry," Willow whispered, ashamed over her outburst. She reached over to slowly stroke the arm that Lhyra was cradling her with. "I'm sorry for what you had to go through growing up," she hesitantly added.

Lhyra shrugged as if Willow's outburst didn't bother her, but Willow could tell she had hurt her girlfriend's feelings. "It is the gnoll way," Lhyra responded grimly, and then she gave Willow a fang- filled grin. "None of the males who mated me lived long enough to see their young born. And once I grew strong enough, I killed any male who showed the slightest interest in me." Lhyra pause in thought. "You are the first person who has shown such an interest in me that I... that I do not take offense at but instead enjoy such attention directed at me." Lhyra finished with a bashful dip of her muzzle.

Willow was warmed by Lhyra's comment, especially in light of what she had just learned. Giving Lhyra a bashful smile of her own Willow said, "Well, I'm glad I didn't make you mad or uncomfortable or anything."

"I bet you are," Lhyra teased. She took Willow by surprise when she bent down and gave Willow a long, very deep kiss, leaving Willow breathless. With a smug expression, Lhyra leaned back against the tree trunk and kicked dirt over the fire to smother it. "Go to sleep."

With her heart beating rapidly in her chest, Willow gazed blankly at Lhyra for a moment before scowling good naturedly at the gnoll and hunkering down against Lhyra's larger frame for some much needed rest. Sleep didn't come easily to Willow that night; her mind was busy with thoughts about what Lhyra had said about Malar's Blessing and what had been done to her when she was younger, not to mention the cubs she had had left behind.

Willow stared down at the horrific scene in the fire-lit clearing taking place below where she and Lhyra perched high in the trees. In the past two days, they had fought and killed a troll, which to Willow's horror kept fighting even after having its head cut off. It had fallen to Willow to finally stop the troll's amazing healing ability through the use of several Lesser Orbs of Fire. They also defeated several large ...over nine feet tall... beastly-looking humanoids called ogres. The battle hadn't gone quite as smoothly as it did with the troll. While Lhyra fought two of them, the third had chased after Willow in a deadly game of tag among the trees. Though Willow had finally killed it by peppering it with freezing arrows, she had been left with a split lip, thanks to smacking face first into a tree, and several cracked ribs from a nasty blow of the ogre's club. Luckily, the healing powers of Willow's Sune amulet ensured her ribs only slightly ached and her lip was as good as new now.

Their third fight had been with a patrol of orcs, human-sized people with boar like features. Whereas with the troll and ogres Lhyra had fought rather heatedly, with the orcs her gnoll girlfriend seemed almost enraged, growling and snarling as she waded into them, her axes falling with more deadly precision then Willow had ever seen. Afterward, when Willow had quietly enquired about Lhyra's reaction to the orcs, Lhyra had simply stated she had orcs to thank for the scars on her back.

The two of them hadn't walked away from the battles empty handed; they had found a magical breastplate. It didn't glow as brightly to Lhyra as her axe did, but it still had some magic so was worth quite a bit of gold. They also had quite a few gems and a goodly amount of gold and silver coins. They had also found several potion bottles, each neatly label in fine script, which meant absolutely nothing to either Lhyra or Willow who couldn't read any of the local languages.

Earlier in the day they had come across the slavers' trail and began following it swiftly through the High Forest. While tracking the slavers, Willow and Lhyra discovered a scene of a battle. Apparently the slavers had ambushed a small band of Uthgardt barbarians, and, judging by the corpses, five of the slavers had fallen versus only three Uthgardt tribesmen.

Lhyra had used the opportunity to teach Willow how to read what had happened during the fight by the footprints and scuff marks left behind in the forest floor. Under Lhyra's guidance, Willow had discovered there were several pack mules and a couple adults and young children that had been captured. Willow had been puzzled at first at one set of tracks where the left foot seemed oddly twisted, but then hit on the idea that the young woman ...Willow knew the sex thanks to the boot style..., had suffered some kind of injury or birth defect. When Willow had told Lhyra her theory, Lhyra had given her a sad look before replying, "You are right, and tonight you will see what this means for the young woman." The gnoll had refused to expand on her words, but her tone and expression left Willow feeling very uneasy.

The next lesson Lhyra had taught Willow left her sick to her stomach. Lhyra had made Willow practice on the corpses how to kill a person in their sleep by covering their mouth with one hand as she plunged a dagger into their heart. This particular lesson left Willow lightheaded and queasy - and with the knowledge of how Lhyra planned for them to take on the slavers' larger numbers. When Willow had hesitantly confided to Lhyra she didn't think she would be able to do this to a living person, slaver or not, Lhyra surprisingly hadn't appeared upset. She had simply told Willow that after tonight, Willow wouldn't have any problems carrying out Lhyra's plan.

As Willow unblinkingly watch the sickening scene taking place below her, Willow finally understood what Lhyra had meant. When Willow had first seen what was being done to one of the captured young women, she had demanded they do something to distract the slavers from their actions. But Lhyra had quietly explained that the slavers would make sure to kill as many of their prisoners they could before making their escape if they thought they had been found by rescuers. Lhyra then did something Willow thought was the cruelest thing she had ever done... Lhyra left it up to Willow what she wanted to do.

Before she knew it, Willow had an arrow knocked and aimed at one of the men standing around the young woman as he waited his turn. Just before she let the arrow fly, her eyes were drawn to the other prisoners and the several grim faced guards standing nearby. There were only three adults that Willow could see, two of whom were the Uthgardt tribesmen, and one woman who was doing her best to keep the younger teens and children quiet.

Letting her breath out slowly, Willow released the tension of her bow string. After returning the unfired arrow to her quiver, Willow forced herself watch the gang rape of the young woman with the crippled foot. Lhyra quietly explained any prisoner, especially females, who wouldn't make good slaves usually met this fate.

As Willow watched the proceedings below, she understand that the hatred she had thought she felt for people like Harmony, people who had made her childhood a living hell, wasn't anything close to real hate. And Willow suddenly understood Lhyra's comment earlier; killing the men below in their sleep didn't seem such an impossibility anymore.

Author's Note: Just wanted to thank everyone for the awesome feedback I've been getting, I really appreciate it.

Willow kept a firm grip on Lhyra's armor as she lay across her girlfriend's back as they stealthily made their way through the dense underbrush surrounding the slavers' encampment. Lhyra had had them strip off their backpacks and other non-essentials earlier, so not to hinder their movement. The equipment was safely tucked in a hollow covered by the thick underbrush. Once again they were relying on Lhyra's ranger ability to pass unimpeded through the tangle of branches and vines in order to enter the camp unseen. Luckily, a storm had moved in not too long ago. It wasn't raining much, but the wind had picked up, causing the trees limbs to move about quite energetically and filling the night with a cacophony of groans and creaks.

Even with all of the noise going on around them, Lhyra moved, at least to Willow, at a snail's pace, making sure to move only when the wind blew the strongest to cover any sound of their passing. The slow progress also gave Willow plenty of time to go over Lhyra's plan in her mind.

The encampment, a slightly egg shaped clearing measuring about a hundred and fifty feet across. There was only a single entrance at the far edge. In the center of the camp sat a large, elaborate tent and about forty feet off to the side were the women and children, plus the two Uthgardt tribesmen that had been recently captured, chained to several stakes driven into the ground. Though the tent was large enough for at least ten people, Lhyra and Willow had seen only two people using it. Both were elves, a man and woman, and judging by their looks they most likely were brother and sister. It had sickened Willow that while the slaver men were taking their turns with the poor girl on the ground, the two elves had walked by without even a glance in her direction.

Lhyra had quietly pointed out several details that indicated the two elves were mages or sorcerers. Both wore vests and wide belts lined with a multitude of small pouches for spell components - something Willow had found she didn't need to use in the casting of her own spells. Also, neither elf wore any kind of armor which would interfere with the casting of many of their spells. Though both carried lightweight crossbows, the brother had a long sword strapped to his side. His sister walked with a large quarter staff in hand.

Thanks to her acute hearing, Lhyra had been able to catch the two siblings talking about the Paladin that currently resided within their tent. Lhyra had told Willow that once the real fighting commenced, she wanted Willow to try to release the Uthgardt tribesmen and guard the women and children. Lhyra herself would rescue the Paladin. For some reason, Lhyra seemed very amused over being the rescuer. Willow simply chalked it up to her girlfriend's particular sense of humor.

A fair-sized campfire burned in front of the large tent, providing the only illumination in the camp. Across the blaze and opposite the tent were four smaller and plainer tents. Each housed two to four slavers and these were Willow's and Lhyra's first targets. They were going to kill the tents' occupants while they slept, drastically decreasing the number of slavers to a more manageable number. The smaller tents were close to the edge of the encampment. The light from the campfire caused the back of the tents to be thrown into pitch black shadows, shadows that stretched all the way to the thick underbrush. They made a perfect path for Willow and Lhyra to traverse unseen from prying eyes. Other than the sleeping slavers, six more were scattered about the camp acting as guards, one by the captives, three guarding the main entrance, and two more wandering around the camp.

One tent in particular held Willow's interest; it housed the slavers who wore chainmail armor. This made them Willow's target because the men had to remove their armor to sleep, unlike the slavers wearing lighter leather armor. Targets. Willow swallowed back nausea at that, remembering what had happen to the young girl earlier. After the last two slavers had finished with her, they had simply dragged her by the legs to a shallow pit that acted as the camp's latrine. They dumped the barely alive girl into the pit, talking and laughing the entire time.

Even after witnessing such a horrific act, Willow didn't know if she could carry out her part of Lhyra's plan. Willow would have been happy to rain death down upon the slavers, in the heat of the moment. But now, having had time to think about what she was about to do to a living person, in their sleep no less, Willow found her resolve wavering. Unless Willow did what she had to do, though, she and Lhyra wouldn't be to save the Paladin and ...most importantly in her mind... save the women and children.

Lhyra's voice jerked her out of her thoughts. "Get ready," Lhyra whispered, and Willow suddenly realized only a few feet of branches separating them from the clearing and the tent that housed Willow's targets.

With upmost care, Willow slid off Lhyra's back, making sure to step only on the bare ground. She then quietly moved around Lhyra's sturdy frame so that she ended up nestled against her girlfriend's chest. Equally as quiet, Willow whispered, "Is it safe to chant?" When she heard Lhyra's softly spoken "Yes," she chanted the words for her Mage Armor spell. An invisible field of force equal to wearing scale armor covered her body without restricting her movements. Once the spell was complete, they moved closer to the clearing. Willow knew Lhyra was keeping a lookout for the two guards patrolling the camp. They had to be especially wary of them because they were half-elves and their parentage gave them superior vision in the dimly lit encampment.

Lhyra paused a moment before moving the last few feet, clearing path open directly into camp. After glancing to either side to assure herself no one was close by, Willow moved on all fours to the back of the tent, keeping to the center of the shadow casted by the tent. Lhyra quickly followed. Once they were both ready, Lhyra had Willow keep a lookout as she listened intently with one fury ear against the tent's canvas wall. Apparently happy with what she heard, Lhyra gently lifted up the tent's bottom edge and peeked through, going so far to stick her head partly through the gap.

Pulling her head back after a second, Lhyra placed the tip of her muzzle close enough to Willow's ear that the fur softly brushed her lobe. "The bedroll next to the back is empty so you will not need to worry about bumping anyone when you enter. The other three bedrolls are occupied. There is a little firelight entering through the tent flap; you should have enough to see by." Willow silently nodded her head. She felt too nervous to say anything out loud; afraid her voice would squeak from the tension making her throat tight. Lhyra must have sensed her uneasiness for she said a bit gruffly, "If you cannot do what needs to be done, tell me now and we will leave."

Willow stared up at Lhyra, surprised at the offer. It was so tempting, but she remembered the women and children and couldn't bring herself accept the out. Giving a slight shake of her head, Willow pointed at the base of the tent, signaling Lhyra her answer. Lhyra lifted up the base of the tent enough for Willow to slip under on her belly. Once she was inside, the flap dropped back into place. Willow knew Lhyra would go back into the underbrush to make her way over to the next tent, thus leaving Willow entirely on her own.

The tent smelled of metal and oil mixed with the repugnant smell of unwashed bodies. Lhyra had only been partially right about there being enough light for Willow. The firelight fell across the top of the three sleeping forms' legs, leaving the rest of the tent in fairly deep shadows. Willow could see, though, that the slavers had put their chainmail armor, lying on top of metal shields, at the bottom of each of their bedrolls. Their swords next to them, within easy reach.

Willow closed her eyes momentarily to calm her rapidly beating heart and her stomach that twisted with nausea. Opening her eyes again, she tried to make out the slavers' upper bodies but quickly grew frustrated with the lack of success. A tear ran down her cheek, and she didn't know if it came from the frustration or the growing horror of what she would needed to do. Either way, Willow knew she had to chance casting her jack of all trade spell prestidigitation to make her hand glow very faintly. Hopefully that would be enough to see by without alerting the guards outside. As she opened her mouth to being the invocation Willow felt an odd tingling sensation behind her eyes and colors suddenly seeped into the shadows. Not colors exactly, but many shades of gray.

The tent's interior slowly became visible to Willow, taking on the appearance of an old black and white movie. Darkvision... Lhyra had described how she could see in the dark enough times for Willow to understand that somehow she now could see just like her girlfriend. Reaching up, she lightly touched the Sune Amulet through her tunic. The artifact had to have something to do with her new talent. One of the slavers grumbled as he moved slightly, nearly making Willow yelp in surprise. Though she kept quiet, it made Willow aware that she allowed too much time to pass.

Taking a slow, deep breath, Willow quietly pulled out her dagger and crawled over to the closest slaver. Staring down at him, she thought how young he looked. He was probably no more than a year older then Willow. Glancing down, Willow noticed that Lhyra had been right in her assessment; the slavers would only be wearing the cloth padding that protected their skin from being pinched by their armor's chain links.

Queasiness coiled in her stomach again. At least she had only nibbled on trail crackers that afternoon. Anything heavier...

Hesitantly leaning over the slaver, she positioned her dagger over his beating heart and moved her other hand above his mouth. Her pulse thundered so loud in that it drowned out the creaking of the trees as Willow brought her hand down, covering his mouth with the palm of her hand, fingers digging brutally into his flesh. And just liked she had practiced, Willow allowed her upper body to drop onto the daggers pommel, the weight of her body driving the thin blade between his ribs and into his heart.

Willow clenched her jaw to keep from whimpering and she kept her eyes open by force of will. She had to be sure the other two slavers wouldn't awaken as their partner shuddered and quietly died under her. The few times that Buffy had allowed her to stake a vampire, ones that the Slayer had beaten into semi-consciousness, the stake had went in and poof no vampire. Even when Lhyra had made her practice this particular maneuver, the body underneath her had been dead, unmoving, and so even though it had made hers sick to her stomach at the time, there hadn't been any reaction from the corpse. But now Willow felt the slaver's heart quiver around the blade that had pierced it. She could feel his final exhale as his lungs emptied themselves for the last time, and Willow could even hear the slight gurgling as the slaver's bowels voided.

Willow climbed to her feet. After removing her hand from his mouth, Willow fastidiously wiped it clean of his breath and spittle on her trousers. The tent's interior swam before her eyes as a wave of vertigo hit. She wanted to throw up so badly, but she knew she couldn't. Focusing on the memory of the atrocity she had witnessed helped her hold the nausea and dizziness to more manageable levels.

Willow grasped her dagger with both hands and pulled it out. Though the blade had slid in almost effortlessly, withdrawing it proved much harder since the slaver's rib cage had collapsed with no air left in his lungs to inflate them. It grated against the rib bones as it slid between them, sending sickening vibrations through the hilt to her hands. Finally, it came free with a slurping noise. Willow panted from the effort and from the effects of hellish nightmare ...of her own making... she was living.

Remembering Lhyra's advice, Willow used the corpse's blanket to wipe the dagger blade clean of blood so there wouldn't be any chance that the smell could alert her next target. Willow used her tunic sleeve to wipe her eyes free of the tears that fell continuously. Now wasn't the time to cry; later she could allow herself a very much needed crying jag.

With her emotions under control, more or less, she carefully eased herself over the dead slaver until she reached her next target. Willow had to gently move aside the slaver's sword. By the time she got into position like before, she felt slightly calmer, but she still had to fight not to let the horror and revulsion overwhelm her.

Willow repeated the act of taking a life, her hand covering the slaver's mouth as she let her upper body drop onto the dagger, plunging the blade into the his heart. But this time things didn't go as planned. At the last minute, the slaver shifted ever so slightly, enough that even though the blade struck his heart, death wasn't immediate. Once again sick with horror, Willow grimly held the dagger in place as the body underneath her convulsed. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his hands clawing at the bedroll and then his foot kicked the metal shield that his chainmail armor laid piled upon.

Willow twisted her head around just in time to watch the armor slither across the shield surface, filling the tent with a metallic tinkling.

The last slaver woke with a startled, "Wah?" He reached for the sword at his side as he propped himself up with one arm to peer blurrily in Willow's direction.

Before Willow consciously knew what she was doing, she jumped across the intervening space with the bloody dagger held high and clenched in both hands. Willow had no real recollection of how she went from kneeling across the dead slaver to leaping though the air, but it really didn't matter. What mattered was making sure the last slaver didn't get a chance to sound the alarm.

By pure luck, she landed partly on and off the slaver. One knee landed on the slaver's sword arm pinning it. Her other knee slammed into his stomach, causing him to expel is breath in a startled, "Oof."

Willow used the momentum from her leap to plunge the dagger into his chest, aiming for his heart. She missed. Panicking Willow did the only thing she could.

STAB - STAB - STAB - STAB. Willow let whimpered as she continued. STAB - STAB - STAB - STAB. The slaver tried to grab her wrist but lost his grip thanks to the blood covering everything. STAB - STAB - STAB - STAB. Distantly Willow noticed the disgusting sucking noises each time she pulled the blade free. STAB - STAB - STAB - STAB. The slaver's eyes rolled around in their sockets, wide with pain and terror as his mouth opened in a big "O" with blood spilling out of it. STAB - STAB - stab - stab - stab - stab.

Willow stared down at the dead slaver in sick fascination. His chest was a bloody mess of cut and mangled cloth and flesh. Willow noted with an odd detachment that the odd sucking noise had quit. Leaving the dagger buried in his chest, Willow slid off the corpse as a muffled sob escaped her lips. Willow could feel her sleeves, soaked with blood, sticking to her arms, and from the warm wetness on her face she knew she must have had splattered her entire upper body with the red essence.

A sharp laugh jerked Willow's attention away from the body. She peered out of the tent to see a few guards standing around the campfire, apparently unaware of what had just transpired. A soft popping noise drew Willow's attention back to the slaver she had just killed. Looking over, Willow saw that air was escaping through several of the wounds causing bloody bubbles to swell and pop. The sight made Willow's gorge rise, filling her mouth with vomit. Rolling over onto her hands and knees Willow expelled the vile contents as silently as she could. Luckily there wasn't much to bring up, and a new burst of wind caused the tree limbs to creak loudly enough to cover any noise that she did make.

Once done, Willow quietly spat out what she could in order to clean out her mouth. Unfortunately she had left her water skin with her backpack hidden away in the underbrush. Willow simply couldn't bring herself to use the slavers water skins; she'd rather live with the icky taste in her mouth.

Willow pushed herself onto her knees, but before she could make any other movement she froze at the light touch of a metal blade against the side of her throat. Peering out of the corner of her eye, she saw two small, lizard-like people standing beside the second slaver she had killed. Their scales, at least to her darkvision, looked black, and they had two white horns gracing their heads. Their faces looked like an odd mixture of dog and iguana, and they had to be no more than two feet tall at the most.

The one closest to her, who was holding a miniature sword at Willow's throat, was dressed in leather armor in the same style as Lhyra's. The one standing just behind the first was dressed in a long tunic or short robe and held what Willow recognized as some kind of martial arts weapon made up of three pieces of wood held together by a small length of chain.

Trying desperately to appear as nonthreatening as possible, though Willow was doubtful of her success given her appearance and the dead bodies surrounding her, Willow gave a tight smile as she squeaked, "Hi?"

"OK," Willow whispered. She crouched and tried to ignore the dead bodies lying around her. "Your name is Reela," she said, pointing at the diminutive lizard person wearing leather armor with a reptilian tail sticking out from under it. Swinging her finger toward the other figure, she said, "And your name is Meela. You're twin sisters and you're both Kobolds... right?"

Seeing this, Willow went on. "You're worshippers of the god Torm who is an ally of the god Ilmater. You were staying at the settlement when you heard about the slavers attack and have been trying to catch up with them to try to help the captives to escape since then."

She smiled in relief, happy at the good luck of being caught by the good guys or good girls, as it were. Suddenly aware of the time they had spent conversing, Willow leaned in to whisper hurriedly, "Listen, my friend Lhyra is ahh... taking care of the other slavers." Willow saw the eyes of the two Kobolds shift toward the mutilated corpse behind her then back in understanding. "We had it planned that once I'm done here," Willow fought a wave of nausea as she recalled the memories of what she had done, "and Lhyra causes a distraction. I'm supposed to free the two Uthgardt tribesmen and arm them with the swords from the slavers here." Willow made a vague gesture at the dead slavers.

Sheathing her miniature short sword, Reela walked around Willow to peer out of the tent at the tribesmen in question. This gave Willow a chance to see that she also had a small crossbow strapped to her back above an equally small quiver of bolts. Reela quickly scurried back over to Willow. "Did you intend to cut through the wooden stake to free them?"

Willow nodded. "Yeah." She patted the sword/bow strapped to her side. "I can freeze stuff with this. I figure I can freeze the wood and shatter it quickly."

Reela touched a small pouch on her belt. "I bet I can pick the lock on the chains quicker than you do that. All I need is for you and Meela to cover me." Reela paused to look around the tent, sighing with apparent dissatisfaction. "It is disappointing that there isn't a bow or crossbow for you to use."

Willow couldn't the smugness that crept into her voice as she said, "I can turn my sword into a bow."

Reela's eyes widen is surprise before crinkling her snout in thought. "We need to make sure the Uthgardt don't attack me when I try to help. Could you warn them we mean them no harm?"

Willow gave her a puzzled. "Sure. I take it the Uthgardt and your people don't really get along very well."

With what Willow thought was a smile, Reela answered, "Kobolds don't generally get along with anyone, but my sister and I were raised by humans."

"Ahh," Willow said in understanding. "My gir... my friend Lhyra is in the same boat as you so I know where you're coming from."

Before Willow could reply, a blood curdling scream cut through the creaking of the branches to be almost immediately replaced with the loud cackle of a hyena. Inexplicably, Willow felt a surge of black humor and, giving the two Kobold's what most likely looked like the grin of a madwoman, Willow said, "A Gnoll, of course." She turned toward the front of the tent, drawing her sword; with a thought Willow turn it into a bow. Glancing back at her companions as she grabbed one edge of the tent flap, Willow tempered her statement about Lhyra. "But she's a good Gnoll."

Not waiting for a reaction, she slipped through the tent's opening, drawing an arrow as she did. With a hurried glance, Willow ascertained the situation within the encampment. Lhyra stood in front of the crumpled remains of the third tent, fighting four slaver's... Oops, three slavers. Lhyra cut one of the remaining slavers down with a powerful backhanded blow from her battle axe. Willow also noted that no light shown from the large tent that the two elven wizard resided in. Just as Willow turned her eyes back to the single slaver guarding the captives, two small forms darted past her, each dragging a single long sword by the belt attached to its scabbard.

Nocking and drawing an arrow back with a smooth motion, Willow whispered the Elven words "Erthe Istolla," to activating the sword/bow's powers. Surprisingly, the arrow tip glowed blue; she had expected to see shades of gray due to her darkvision. But the surprise wasn't enough to make her hesitate in releasing the arrow. The arrow streaked through the air leaving a trail of frozen mist behind it. It struck the slaver's right shoulder a glancing blow, leaving a gash in its wake. Though Willow doubted the cut from the arrow was very deep, the slaver cried out, dropping his sword as the flesh around the wound froze over with a layer of ice.

Even as the arrow did its work, Willow darted forward and drew another from her magical quiver. One of the half-elven slavers rushed out of the darkness that lay just beyond the edge of her darkvision, passing by the guard she'd shot and charging directly at her with a javelin at the ready. He must have had his attention fixed solely on her, though, for he didn't notice the two Kobolds directly in his path. Willow watched in amazement as Meela and Reela attacked him.

Meela dropped the long sword she had been dragging, her three-section staff unfolding. The last section hooked around one of the slaver's ankles, catching him in mid-stride. Meela pulled hard enough on the staff that it gave her, even with such a small body, enough leverage to pull the slavers foot out from under him, causing him to stumble and fall on his knees. Still spinning, Meela brought the staff around for a second pass to strike the slaver a hard blow to the side of his helmeted head. Though it didn't kill him, the hit must have severely stunned him; the slaver fell forward, barely catching himself with his hands.

This position left him open to Reela, who buried the blade of her mini sword in his side deep to quickly finish him off.

Meela refolded her staff with a snap and retrieved the sword belt and the two resumed running.

Blinking in shock, Willow forced her mind back on track, quickly nocking and firing the second arrow at the guard. This time, the arrow struck him in the stomach, making him crumple to the ground. He became the fifth person Willow had killed. In the back of her mind, Willow noticed his death didn't cause the same nausea the three in the tent had. Willow didn't know if it was due to the adrenalin from fighting for her life, but, whatever the reason, she felt glad for it. She didn't need anything distracting her.

Her attacks had caught the attention of the two Uthgardt tribesmen; Willow waved at them with her free hand and shouted as she jogged forward, "The Gnoll and Kobolds are here to free you!"

Just then a javelin slammed into the ground right in front of her, apparently thrown by one of the three slavers guarding the entrance to the clearing. Unfortunately, she wasn't able to stop in time and ran into the javelin, getting it tangled in her legs. With a startled squeak Willow went down hard, landing in an ungraceful sprawl on the ground. On the way down Willow had the misfortune to catch the expressions of the tribesmen.

Stunned by the tumble, Willow laid on the ground for a moment to catch her breath. This proved to be a moment too long as another javelin hit her in the back. Luckily, the protection provided by the Mage Armor spell kept it from penetrating her flesh; though, it did provoke a grunt of pain from her.

Willow chanted and raised one arm to point at the three charging slavers. A small ball of fire shot from the tip of her finger. In dismay, Willow watched the slaver with the lantern nimbly dodge her lesser orb of fire. With her heart in her throat, Willow scrambled to her feet, switching her bow back into its sword form since there wasn't enough time to get an arrow off before the slavers reached her.

Then a chilling cry of rage sounded and one of the Uthgardt tribesmen ran by with a long sword held over his head in a two handed grip. With reckless abandon, he immediately cut one slaver down, almost cleaving the man in two from shoulder to hip.

Seeing that his brutal attack had distracted the two surviving slavers - and becoming caught up in the moment -, Willow imitated the Uthgardt tribesmen. She charged forward with her own sword held over her head, letting out a yell. Much to her chagrin, her yell wasn't anything like the tribesman's. It sounded like an off-key, high pitched yodel, but her sword struck true. The blade buried into the spot where the slaver's neck met his shoulders. Ice spread across his upper shoulders and the side of his neck, killing him almost immediately.

Willow turned to help the Uthgardt tribesmen, but it didn't look like he needed it. Then something struck her painfully in the back and she cried out. At the same time, she felt an odd warmth from the Sune amulet for a moment.

Turning quickly Willow saw the two elven wizards had finally made an appearance. The brother made casting gestures, facing the direction where Lhyra and the other tribesman were fighting the last of the slavers. About forty feet in front of Willow stood the sister, quarterstaff in one hand and free index finger pointed at Willow. Desperately Willow dove to the side to avoid the magical bolt released from that finger, but it curved mid-air to strike with unerring accuracy. Instead of pain like she expected, Willow's Sune amulet warmed again. It reminded her of the warmth of sunlight falling on her face, and the magical bolt simply dissipated leaving her unharmed.

Remembering the advice Lhyra had given her about facing spell casters, Willow climbed to her feet and lunged forward in an attempt to reach the elven wizard before she could cast another spell. Unfortunately, Willow wasn't fast enough. Smirking, the elven mage made an arcane gesture, and Willow's feet suddenly flew out from beneath her as the ground around her became covered in grease.

"Not again," Willow thought before landing on her back with a loud "Oomph". Thanks to the grease, she shot across the ground in an uncontrollable slide, losing her sword in the process. Once she reached the edge of the grease-covered ground, though, Willow's slide turned into a tumble heading directly at the female mage -- who, with a comical expression of disbelief - leaped straight up in an attempt to avoid Willow. She would have made it if one of Willow's flailing hands hadn't accidentally snagged the tip of one boot. The mage did a face plant onto the grease cover ground and slid for several feet before coming to a stop.

In the meantime, Willow rolled painfully onto her knees and spotted her sword laying several feet away. She staggered over to pick up her sword in time to see the male wizard gesturing toward Lhyra and the Uthgardt tribesmen. A bolt of lightning shot from the mage's hand to flash through the four combatants, causing them all to jerk and twitch in agony.

"Lhyra!" Even before the afterimages from the terribly bright lightning faded, Willow charged at the mage. Her shout alerted him, but the mage barely had time to turn toward her and raise one arm in a futile effort to ward off Willow's sword blade. For the first time, Willow took a savage satisfaction in harming another. She watched as if in slow motion her glowing blue blade easily cut through the upraised armed, shearing the mage's hand off at the wrist, leaving a bloodless, frozen stump in its wake. The blade continued down to slash across his chest, ripping open several of the small pockets his vest had, scattering the now-frozen spell components to the wind. The sword's tip then cut into his stomach, only stopping when the edge hit the belt he wore, with its tip buried several inches into his rapidly freezing flesh.

The elven mage looked at where Willow's blade entered his body, before looking back up at her. Willow met is gaze unflinchingly. Looking into the face of the person who had casually walked by the young girl being gang raped and who had just harmed Lhyra, Willow didn't feel any nausea or remorse for what she did next. Giving him no warning, Willow plunged the long sword blade into his stomach up to its hilt, incidentally causing the blade to flash as it exploded with a miniature blizzard of snowflakes around both of them.

Willow heard a woman's lyrical voice scream, "Toror!" behind her. Before Willow could turn to face the other mage, a throwing axe flew past Willow's head and the scream was interrupted by a loud, wet thunk. Twisting her head around, Willow glimpsed the female mage drop lifelessly to the ground with the throwing axe driven deeply into her face. Letting body of the mage she had just killed slide effortlessly off her blade, Willow looked over to see Lhyra slowly and painfully striding toward her.

Sobbing in relief, Willow rushed to Lhyra stopping herself from hugging her girlfriend on seeing the numerous wounds that covered her body. In a voice choked with emotion, Willow asked, "Are you alright?"

Lhyra gave Willow a look of exasperation before replying a bit gruffly, "Do I look alright?"

Willow wilted a under Lhyra's gaze. She had learned in the past several days that Lhyra got a bit... touchy after a fight. Willow knew she shouldn't take it personally but she still kind of did. She took heart at the thought Lhyra would be back to her normal self quickly. The moods rarely lasted long. Deciding Lhyra could use a little mixture of humor and praise, Willow gave her girlfriend a small, though forced, smile and pointed behind Lhyra with her long sword at the dead bodies scattered around the tents. "Well you look alright compared to them." Willow hated using the dead in her joke, especially the second Uthgardt tribesman who lay among the fallen slavers, but she wanted to calm Lhyra down. Willow figure the newly freed captives would have enough of a hard time accepting Lhyra normally, an agitated Lhyra even less so.

She watched as Lhyra looked over her shoulder at the scattering of dead; Willow had a good guess that most were by Lhyra's own hand. Lhyra gave out a short bark of laughter as she visibly relaxed, much to Willow's happiness, before turning back to face her. "I will live until we have time for treating our wounds. What about you, are you alright?" Lhyra asked with a bit of concern coloring her voice.

"Yeah, I'm OK." Willow had only the small wound in her back and the aches and bruises from the two falls she had taken during the fight. It made her feel really inadequate when it came to her part in the fight. She looked down at her blood splattered body and the elven mage she had killed. She recalled her satisfaction as she rammed her sword through him. Disgusted at her actions and wanting her to distract herself, Willow looked back up at Lhyra and held her blood-soaked arms away from her body. "I really wish we were back home, a bath really sounds good right now."

Lhyra let out a low chuckle before replying, "Yes a bath does sound rather good." Oddly enough, after making the comment Willow saw a look of consternation cross Lhyra's face. Lhyra's expression smoothed out as she looked over Willow's shoulder.

Turning to follow her gaze, Willow saw the last surviving Uthgardt slowly making his way toward them, his long sword in one hand and a large wooden shield he must have looted from one of the slavers in the other. Willow got a good look at him for the first time and noticed how tall he was. She guessed he topped her by at least a foot and he was quite broad of shoulder. Willow also noticed he was younger than she had first thought, close to her own age.

When he saw them looking at him, he stopped about ten feet away and dropped into a defensive stance. Speaking in heavily accented common, he said, "My name is Wilamros of the Tree Ghost Tribe. Are ye perchance from Waukeen's Rest?"

Since Lhyra apparently didn't plan to do any talking, Willow stepped forward self-consciously. "Ahh... yeah we're from Waukeen's Rest. My name's Willow and this is Lhyra. We came here to rescue everyone." Willow spoke the last part a little louder then necessarily. She had seen the freed captives, the one adult and older teens having armed themselves with weapons from the dead slavers, listening avidly. Willow also saw Meela standing beside the adult women; Reela was nowhere in sight.

Willow blinked in puzzlement at the odd question, but answered anyway. "At the House of Gentle Repose."

Wilamros relaxed, lowering his sword till the tip rested on the ground. "Ahh... I have heard fair tidings of ye then, though I have to wonder why ye would wish to rescue us."

"Oh," Willow answered quickly. "There's a reward for rescuing everyone, so here we are." Willow lifted her shoulders in an awkward half-shrug.

Though Wilamros seemed satisfied with her answer, he wasn't impressed by it. "So ye are mercenaries then." He sheathed his sword. "I'm going to Waukeen's Rest myself so I shall come along with ye and offer my sword to defend the young ones."

"The reward is ours," Lhyra brusquely said from behind, startling Willow since she had grown used to Lhyra's quietness.

Wilamros didn't quite openly sneer but what he thought of Lhyra's comment was plain to see. "I'll offer my sword in defense of hearth and home and the young and old. But not for any of your gold. Now I have respects to pay to my kin." With that he strode by them towards where the second tribesman lay dead.

"Oh, they're twin sisters, Meela and Reela; they were raised by humans." Willow tried to give a concise explanation. "They worship the god Torm and were in the settlement that the captives were taken from and followed in the hopes of rescuing them."

"Humph," Lhyra replied dismissively. "As long as they stay out of my way, I don't care. Go tell them." Lhyra nodded toward the freed captives, "to quickly gather what supplies and weapons from the dead they can, for we need to move from here soon. The blood will draw predators. While you do that, I shall go in and free the Paladin." Lhyra gestured to the large tent as she finished.

"Ahh... OK." Willow didn't cherish the idea of having to give out orders to perfect strangers. She hoped they didn't complain or argue with her since she never did very good in confrontational situations.

"Go," Lhyra said, giving Willow a slight push in the direction of the former captives. But before Willow could take more than a half of dozen steps, Lhyra called out for her to wait.

Coming to a stop Willow looked back to see that Lhyra had picked up the female mage's quarterstaff and, after ordering Willow to face the other way, stuffed it into the larger of the three extra -dimensional pockets of Willow's magical quiver. "The staff is magical," Lhyra said quietly once done and before sending Willow once more on her way.

Just before reaching the huddled group of people Willow glanced back in time to see Lhyra entering the large tent with the dead bodies of the elven brother and sister in either hand. Willow tried not to think on just way Lhyra took the two bodies with her, she just hoped that it wasn't due to a particularly bad case of after battle munchies.

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Beauty and the Beast the Faerun Way

Chapters 23-26

by Wispr

Copyright (c) 2011

wispr@woh.rr.com