The New Dawn

[Kaybrie]

Within the bustling streets of Sundren's capital, the sun rose over structures shrouded in morning dew. The pink and gold that crescent the normally cloudy cityscape was marked instead by a tranquil and sunny sunrise. The conditions were waited upon and prayed for daily, something of serene peace to lift the peoples hearts from their daily toils. An event beyond themselves that gave promise of warmth and comfort rather then taxes and work.

Quietly moving through the streets was a woman of no significant consequence, her affiliations were limited to a few people and her alliances were inconsequential. What few deeds she had done remained noble but unspoken, and she greeted all who passed her with the same welcoming smile. Her modesty was merely through actions however, for she dressed with intent to catch the eyes of all those around her. Her hair was perfectly strait and combed, tied in a high ponytail that came to model a birds crown. Her robes though practical, were bright and vibrant crimson overlapped with strips of golden ribbon. She held in her hand a staff of painted gold, crested by a topaz crystal and even in the morning light seemed to bring a radiance to the woman's presence.

At first, she offered wordless prayers to the sick and the elderly, the young and the with child. For the tedious hours until the sun had began its climb through the sky did she move from man to woman to child to creature. Offering token pieces of wisdom and a blessing upon their new beginnings and future ventures. She carries with her no true message in her first appearances, simply acting as a hand of charity willing to aid any and all she comes upon. When asked who she is she replies as orderly and neatly as possible;

"Anasath Zesiro of Lathander, bringer of the new dawn."

And as each bright sunrise she can be seen cresting the street, each afternoon she melds back into the crowds and disappears from the city.

[Kaybrie]

An extended finger circled around the rim of a half empty glass of white wine. The delicate, swirling tattoo's along a wrist and forearm danced playfully in the moonlight, beaming in over the sea and through her window. The room was neat, the rot in the wood having since been polished away or replaced with apparent new boards. Her evening ware was folded neatly beside her bed and the armor that often adorned her body was tucked clearly onto a display.

'Who is so important upon that blighted coast that you must so quickly depart once again?!'

The voice of her father rang out from the windowsill, its strict tone thrumming deep into her heart as she tilted her head and stared out over the water silently. His image seemed to form in her minds eye, his tanned skin and cut exterior. A dark, trimmed goatee wrapped around his thinly pressed lips, shaped into a dour frown. And her younger self, just a hair smaller then, her hair more neatly kept and her body near nude in proud display of her tattoo's, markings that in Mulhorand blossomed as a showing of her faith to her deity... Such customs were not acceptable in Sundren, she thought to herself as the figments bickered among themselves.

'Father, my heart and soul go out to each and every one of our people, but I cannot find spiritual gratification here. There must be something out there, tools for me to garner and learn from, people to meet and expand my knowledge, my faith. The Sending's did me a great service in this self discovery, but I yearn for more!'

'There is nothing more for you to learn, this corruption of your faith is intolerable and I won't permit it. Lathander is an honorable deity in the lands of others, but in this house he is a guest, not a companion.' The words echoed within her soul once again, her brow knitted as she listened, remembered everything that had been spoken of. Somehow she seemed stronger then, ambition was a driving force in her life and pushed her forward... And now it was as though it had been drained away from her, quietly siphoned away since she'd come to Sundren and replaced with complacency.

Even in recognition there was nothing she could do, her meek voice carried only as much strength as others would allow... And she allowed the influence of others to encroach upon her faith. How she'd allowed herself to fall to what she was she couldn't answer, even in the depths of her own soul. 'If I was told to fight for someone else cause, could I say no?'

'If I was told to fight against what I believed... I would have to.'

She closed her eyes and let her head dip forward as she quietly dosed off.

[Kaybrie]

A midst the shadowed halls of her temple, the structure built on the sweat of her labors and her sanctuary from all the darkness that encroached upon the world, she sat in reflective silence. The gentle scratching of her quill on grainy parchment being the only disturbance within the confines of her fortress of solitude, her bastion of holy reverie. Though even here, in her most private cloister she still could feel the growing shadows encroaching on the lands. "You cannot win." Crooned a terrible, hideous voice. Her eyes continued to scan over the sheets, carefully examining them each for imperfections, insuring proper titles were used and respectful courtesies given. It was a game she hadn't played since her teen years, a careful juggling of presentation of respect and demand of obedience. It was not a style of diplomacy that she fancied, though it was often necessarily to put the needs of others ahead of the personal desires of oneself, and a part of her... A dark secretive part was enjoying the feeling.

Each letter was written on a very personal level, careful research was placed into learning of the lords and influential merchants in the surrounding regions. She dared step beyond her station and even wrote to powerful sages such as Elminster, and Blackstaff. She placed each word carefully, and destroyed each letter a dozen or more times before she would produce a final copy. "You won't have their help, nobody will help you... They'll abandon you again just as they did before." The voice dripped on her ear like honey, she didn't give it the satisfaction of her knowing, her hearing... She glanced across the table to the concoctions brewed by Ulriel, and noted she would need to request more. Her budding piece of Lathander was slowly growing, and she needed to insure that it would be strong enough to remain, his clergy, his servants, the very sanctified walls and stones it rested upon... It would not end as it did with Argyle twice, no banite, vampire or orc would tread upon these holy stones, her voice echoed within her mind, assuring her and relieving her doubts. After a time she lifted her parchment and pursed her olive lips, blowing softly across the sheet before turning it upright to read more carefully.

The letter was written to a Sir Urgus, a man with reputable talent for metal working within Waterdeep, he owned at least two silver mines in the area and had a great deal of resources at his disposal. Rumors abound regarding the nature of how he managed to acquire the second mine, though few had the sanction or courage to step up to investigate it. She herself was uncertain of the legitimacy of it, though she was certain to include in the letter her presence as a Paladin, her position within the church of one of the most respected gods in the realms, whom dealt near as much in trade and merchants deals as the goddess Tymora. A threat to those who read between the lines, though nothing outright stated... More a gesture to force his hand in her direction in a gainful manner, even still she had already sent word of his dealings to the Spires of the Morning of his dealings... Believing that a religious investigation may spurn him toward being helpful, if not repentant for any shady dealings.

She rolled the letter up and pressed the seal of the temple onto it to seal it closed before placing it in a stack with her other letters, her hands slowly drifted up across her face as she still could not shake the feeling of doubt and hatred welling up deep within, eager for blood and loathing her choice of remaining within the peaceful sanctum. She stood and made her way to the window, peering out at the fading twilight beyond the plain glass. As her vision began to fade once again she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

'Eilitris, the next set is completed, see that they are sent to their proper recipients!' She heard the click of her door opening and the quick hobble of the young caretaker moving across the room... She still dared not look directly at her, the guilt of her actions never having left her.

[Kaybrie]

"Surrender to me..." A sickly sweet voice crooned melodiously, her wet, grey lips twisted into a delighted smile as a grunted, powerless gurgle was the only response her better half could summon against her. "But once we were together, everything that was trembled at our feet... We could be this again, all your enemies dead and scattered within a field of unmarked graves, your allies trembling on their knees with awe and respect.

"We would be the terror of Bane, the envy of Shar, the bringers of the black dawn, masters to all and kneeling before none." She continued to sing a wonderful tune, captivating and enthralled all the Mulhorandi woman could do was float and listen, struggling for air. "Tarsus would be but a pawn in your schemes, Tornbrook an ignorant sword for your abuse, you could secure the peace you've so long desired through a few brief coups. Sacrifice yourself for the good of all, is that not what you wish? Then together, we can embrace truely living."

She felt her foot lash out, it felt like it struck solid, though there the twisted visage of herself still stood, plain as she could see for all her muddled vision. "You already lean on me for strength, I feel you summon me when you're threatened, you allow me to bubble to the surface when faced with adversity... Even common conversations! I could hear you, Zesiro Zesiro!"

"Do not sully my name!" She heard her own voice cry out in protest, the wet fingers around her throat tightened and all she could feel was a brief, ragged gasp for breath. "Zesiro, zesiro... Lend me strength so I can overcome this adversity." She tried to call herself a liar, though she only heard the rasping of her own gasps for air. "You'll die dear little Asenat... You're cold and alone, your knights do not trust you and your priests abbandon you, the only people you have left, are those who left you to be claimed by me... And I... I will always be here."


Air, it returned to her lungs in a rush as she felt the cold sting of the nights air against her bare chest. Her blankets were tossled in a heap around her legs and at her flank was the still, silent companion of her recent nightmares. Firey hair wired its way over the pillows and melded into pale, milky skin, she was so full of unbidden love and innocence. A brief, childlike smile... A vision of her past.

Her body slowly relaxed against the soft sheets as she continued to struggle to catch her breath. Her vision began to fade again as surely as she was certain it was there a few moments before... Shapes and edges melded into blurs and shadows, her eyes relaxed, staring up into the void of night, impish shadows and distant fires playing the corners of her sight... Haunting and reminding... Doubt, as it was became ever more prevailant in the life she lead, each step that brought her closer to the light only did more to remind her of the shadows. Zesiro had never left, it was merely the priestess in command of the demon now.

[Kaybrie]

She wandered the still halls of the Morning Lords light in thoughtful silence, her eyes tracing along the rim of the hallowed bowl of water in the center of the hall of worship. Fingers laced within the water to feel their cool swirl over their tips, eyes slowly drawn shut she let herself be drawn into the past as she considered the first time she truly felt she'd met Dain.
-

Her fleeting form melded into the shadows of the night as the elfs words rang into the back of her mind; "Run!" The sun elf had called to her, before turning to a trio of unholy abominations, drawing forth his spell components and preparing for battle. Why did she go? Were these not the enemies of her faith? Was this not the difinitive purpose of her existance? And yet here she moved, wet grass slapping against her feet as her mind refocused and she placed all her effort into the next few feet before her.

She saw a flash amidst shadows, her hand instinctively moved to her flank and she drew forth the rosy symbol of her faith, displaying it plainly before the encroaching woman. Immediately its swift steps drew to a hault, outstretched claws retreating at the presented symbol of power. She didn't have the strength to defeat it, but dawn was but a brief while away, she could hold out, through prayer perhaps another may have come, they could not afford to stay. "You won't approach this light, creature!" She seethed at the undead, her nose crushed into a snarl with her lips curling back.

"I only saught to delay you priestess, we have interest in any whom Tornbrook deems allies." The gentle, repeated patter of plated armor resounded behind her and she turned, whirling her staff around to present a second symbol of her faith to the approaching offenders. There were two more, the wizard had failed, and was likely dead. She felt her eyes grow warm as the grip in each hand tightened.

Both saw the symbol, and both paused, bemused at the youthful priestess' flaccid protest. "Dawns light comes." The more armored of the two spoke to the other, whom nodded in resigned agreement, lifting her hand toward Anasath. She heard arcane words behind whispered and dropped her symbols to quickly incant a prayor of protection. Though as soon as she'd done so she felt a cool sting at the small of her back, and the power of her prayer fizzled. Another strike to her head and her mouth tasted of copper and sap, her muscles layed lax against the grass and she already felt her life slipping away. The experience became muzzled under a blanket of confusion, she could hear echoing cries of protest, shouts and crashing of steel... Then it grew faint, and eventually she was left in silent darkness.

She came to in a worn down manor, three women gathered in deathly stillness stood around her without any exchange present between the lot of them. Her own cloths were tattered and burnt, though she felt in good enough health to move and stand proudly, even as nagging terror filled the back of her mind. There was an exchange of words, all but the last few were empty, pointless ramblings of a spirit departed, clinging to life and death at once, refusing to be a part of either. What came next was a choice, the fire haired woman brought in a servant and smiled delightedly at Anasath. "Let us three gorge ourselves on you, or we will do so to this sweet creature... Accept your role beneith the boot of Colibrus... Or let this thrall's life ebb to its end, you will watch this and know it was you who drove us to this."

Her eyes rolled over the other two, as impassive and patient as ever, they offered little other insight into the decision, more drolling about the misunderstandings of their kind... More pointless talk of how they were victums of priests similar to her's prejudice and punishment. Anger, rolled up within her... She looked on the servant girl, her eyes devoid of any true semblence of life even if her heart still beat, and all the Mulan woman could feel was boiling hatred. Her brilliant blue eyes flashed onto the crimson haired harlot's and she moved forward, unarmed and without the holy components of her faith, she simply cried out despairately, light eclipsed her fist and struck true across the vampire's cheek.

There was a moment of stunned silence in the room, then Anasath could see the returned rage of the armored brute turn back upon her. The beating she received was savage, she was coughing blood and bleeding out of her ears and nose before the end, her already dark flesh marred with hideous bruises as she was beaten into a concussion, and beyond. She could hear bones break through the silence, they just watched, uncarring and unthoughtful or respectful of life or dignity. All she could think of was the sweet release of death, her mind begging a sword to be plunged through her heart and end her pain then and there as not for the first or last time her mind would fade from the world.

But death did not come, instead she awoke later, bundled and being carried across the cold, snowy mountain by a new friend. She looked up and saw his crystal clear blue eyes, blonde hair and square chin... Unblinking in the face of a oncoming storm. She must have seemed so weak then, she thought to herself. She felt comforted by him, and rested her head there, battered and broken she still felt she could draw strength from others, and perhaps one day make that her own.
-


"Master Zesiro?" A timid voice yawned out from behind her, she turned and saw Eilitris limping into the hall. "I'm sorry, you should go back to sleep Master, I can take care of the morning rituals, you need your rest." Her attention returned into the bowl, the reddish blur plain for her to see, wavering with every twitch of her fingers. "I'm sorry, sister Shieldheart, your advice is noted but there is yet much to be done... Murders on our doorstep, undead within our halls... Sometimes I wish just once something bright and shiny would come through our front door and say 'Hey, keep up the good work, have a hug and here's some help.'" She heard a stifled laugh from her flank, and couldn't help a little smile for herself to. "I'll be fine Eilitris, tend to the morning rituals, I cannot sleep, so I may as well think."

[Kaybrie]

"When we travel to that island to speak with the Truenamer, you're going to see a side of me Darius, a side I have no control or power over. The best I can do is stay the flow of its fury... In all likely hood, you won't like what you see. It will be an ugly thing."

The Paladin stepped forward and rested a hand on the priestess' shoulder. "I'm with you to the end dear Anasath, pray we find what you seek and set you upon the path of light once more."



A deafening explosion sent shockwaves through her body and catapulted her into the air, slamming forcefully into wood and iron on the rolling ship. Everything was in motion, she lost all sense of perception as she tumbled along an increasingly slight angle the only constant being the death grip she held on both of her weapons. Water came next, cold and salty. Immediately she felt herself sinking below its depths, dragged down by her heavy armor as she thrashed against it wildly trying to discern up from down.

"You won't die yet." The voice purred within her mind, her lungs were burning as she continued to fight with all of her strength. "Is this the limits of your ability priestess? For all that you've overcome you'll die a victim of your own protection, how sad." Her mouth opened to scream against the voice, empty bubbles and a faint echo was all that resounded within her mind, and for an instant, she gave in.

She saw the whirling shapes and colors more clearly now, orange and red fire bathed across an infinite sky, fire burned against light, the two caught in a distant struggle. She felt paralyzed, thick rubbery appendages wrapped around her securely, she could only stare ahead, where she saw the black woman staring back at her more clearly then she ever had before in a dream. Her hair spiked up to look like six spiny horns before cascading down her armored chest and back. Each hand held powerful nodules of darkness which she could manipulate at will into blades that would give the greatest angels pause.

Grey, scaly skin snaked up across her body and the two most familiar features encapsulated and enslaved her. Crimson eyes glowed out toward her, and a confident smirk that boasted immortal patience. She knew what it was, but it seemed determine to betray its own nature time and time again to deceive her into believing otherwise. It's mouth open and cast out a message, the familiar voice, that haunting, confident voice seduced within her mind and wrapped itself around her heart. "From now unto the end of eternity, she is mine."



The song of a nightingale's chirping roused her from unconsciousness, her eyes drifted open to behold the familiar blur of the world around her, ebony, navy and forest colors swirled in a cool sea breeze, it was night. She pulled her arms out from under her, which had found purchase gripped to what might have once been the mast of the ship, now washed ashore along some alien landscape. She slipped off the mast and her feet quickly found purchase, her strength slowly flowed back into her, she could feel the fire burning in her bones, maybe broken... But it didn't matter, it was lending her the strength she needed, she had no choice.

Her arms moved and she found one of the potions still strapped to her belt, and quickly poured the contents into her open mouth, her eyes widened briefly, the crimson within was consumed by the purity of the potion crafted out of love and compassion. She smiled a little and looked down, seeing the stirring form of Emiliana, her feet carried her forward. She hadn't seen the Centurio since her venture to the Abyss, never like this, her hair strangled from the oceans abuse and armor tarnished from sand and recent abuse alike did little to strike down the visage of the young warrior before her.

"Are you alright?" She managed to croak, her head still swimming. The blond grunted a soldierly response, hauling herself up again. Her eyes traced along the ground closer, keeping her perspective narrow as she hunted for Darius, whom she found laying even closer still. He stirred in his midnight black armor, dark cropped hair and trimmed stubble gave him a certain rugged charm, it was easiest to compare him to Dain, though they were two completely different people. She wished she had the time to know him better, his valor, chivalry and courtesy were the likes of which she first fell in love with the tales of Aster, and Lathander. Perhaps when this was over, when she found peace she would visit his temple and take the time just to talk, and listen.

Her hand laid upon his shoulder and he grunted a response, pushing himself up to his feet quick and orderly. "We need to move, are you well enough to move, brother?" Emiliana spoke with the mixed reserve of a woman in command and a concerned sibling, the latter perhaps only leaking out from the disastrous nature of the situation.

"Yes... I think so... I dreamed we were all under the Sword Sea. Fear my dreams may be becoming a thing to avoid. What is that ahead?" He replied quickly to Emiliana, whose eyes were still peeled ahead. "Unknown." She replied, the uncertainty lingering in the air. It was not something Anasath was going to allow to stop her, she'd come this far and she was determined to set herself upon the right path again. Her feet began to move before her mind gave the order, fire smoldering in her bones.

[Kaybrie]

She knew no mercy, not for anyone or anything she encountered plowing forward into the cavern, demons, just more and more demons thrust upon them. It was proof of wickedness and corruption. No questions needed to be asked in such a vile pit of evil, there was only the purity and song of her sword. The ache in her muscles and the weighted presence of the Truenamer, familiar pressure continued to weigh upon her with each demon slain, with each act of violence. Another appendage wrapped itself around her, tightening its hold, distantly that smile... That confident, patient smile just floated and mocked from its distant perch, so smug and empowered. Her hate boiled forth as she continued to step, turn slash and maneuver through the caves. Behind her prayers and apologies were spoken, was it Darius? He was here to with her wasn't he? And Emiliana, her head burned and swam fiercely through the growing blackness. "You will need me, call child of the sun... And I will answer. I will not abandon you to your fate... Ask and these creatures will be wiped clean, if you do not, you will succumb."

Her feet finally stopped, every instinct and fiber of goodness in her being cried out against her slaughter and she was made to give pause. Before her stood a man, older then she by half a decade or more, hair cropped short and sweeping blond, skin as pale as new fallen snow. Still, his jaw was set and his weapon was at the ready, across his breast lay the symbol of her faith, and all around she could feel the familiar aura of a fellow champion of faith. A martial arm of her deity stood before her in protest, something growled from deep within, but clarity overcame chaos and her next step was not filled with bravado, but tentative curiosity. Though before she could speak his words filled the air, saddened, almost with pity.

"You may not pass, brother and sister." Her teeth grated and she felt fire within her again, mocking laughter deep within clouded her vision as the greys and browns of the cavern melted into red. "Stand down." She barked in a powerful, demanding tone.

"I have no choice, the spider has woven me into his web. In my life, I was the Blade of the Golden Sun." There was a pause of silence before a friendly voice spoke in a hushed tone. "... Brother indeed." Darius relaxed his stance, while she tightened hers. "You serve a corrupt creature!" The justification rang out within her, even still Mulciber's flames died away, it wanted no part of this conflict.

"He may have no choice..." Emiliana spoke true and she knew it... Before she could think further on it her head became clouded with laughter again, her vision hazed and she looked ahead again through babbling voices and pitiful plea's. 'I need to know what happened, where these weapons came from, why this fury exists in my veins and how I can cleanse it from my being.'


"How long will you hold out against me?" There was no muscle now that was not compressed, the truenamers weight lifted only to reveal the true extent the demon had crept up upon her soul while she struggled with him. "He gave me much of what I needed, how much anger will you expel to try to defeat me? You're fighting my battle and it's spiraled out of control, you can't calm your veins anymore because I am in control. You've lost priestess, bow down before your rightful master, you never had the right to command, you were always a pawn in our game. Now relax and let me set the musical tone of this dance, I will find your answers for you and you will be at peace."


She roared furiously, pointing Mulciber forth she cried out again, every beat of her heart and muscle in her being demanded retribution. 'free him'. Her blood screamed and she set Mulciber upon his task, which he performed reluctantly. The tangible field of anti-magic shattered the hold the truenamer held on him for but an instant, Anasath's heart gained ground and for a brief moment she allowed herself a tiny fragment of hope. Cruel were the fates to her that day though, in the next instant the knight of lathander, her brother in faith and this soul who needed to be saved sagged to his knees and passed from the world, quietly uttering the dawnlord's name.

Anasath only stood, silent with disbelief, the cave felt hollow for an age before at last Darius spoke. "The Light has sent us with good purpose, let us find this fiend and be done." Her rage redoubled and folded upon itself again, she was blind now even as clearly as her vision was granted anew through the gifts offered freely by the demonic fragment within. "... I will kill him." She barely whispered. "... By Lathander, there will be vengeance for this sin."

She leaped forward into the cave, screaming at the top of her lungs. "I am the bringer of death, suffer and die in your eternal prison, demon!"