Her heart thundered in her chest, aching lungs screaming for air, her bowels, gripped in the thrall of unimaginable terror, threatened to shame her further by causing her to vomit or soil herself in the presence of her superiors. The immersion was only supposed to last three minutes, so far she had managed almost four times that. A small voice in her head, the same dark, seductive tone that had allowed her to be brought here in the first place, simply said. They have forgotten about you again, little bird.
Nightshade awoke in a tangle of covers, the dagger under her pillow gleamed in the small luminescent light that clung to her other hand. She had unwillingly drifted into reverie, the elven form of sleep, but had not done so with her usual three glasses of feywine to keep the night terrors at bay. She threw the covers on the floor, looked over to the other side of her bed, unoccupied this evening, her choice, and then decided that she might as well use the time to put a few things into perspective.
After her discovery of the burnt zombie, Night had left immediately to speak to Furien, the dragon had been pleased to see her, even more so when she showed him the gift of the stuffed owl that she had brought with her. He was in his human form this visit, the spell came easy to such a creature and he liked to be able to tinker with his "treasures". Night had kept the thought about him being a gnome in a previous life to herself, knowing that he would have taken it as the highest form of an insult. She had spent several hours with him, listening with pretense and false smiles, as he chatted away happily about his latest piece of art or a model of his own design. She eventually ran out of patience.
"Furien, I need to know if you remember the Cannoness"
The deep booming voice ceased immediately, follwed by an awkward silence, then he had cleared his throat and attempted to steer the conversation back to his next piece, which to Nightshade, looked like half a lamp fixed to an old road sign and covered in garish looking lightbulbs that she could only imagine came from a brothel.
"If you would look at the way this sparkles, the magnificence in which way the light catches and is held in each glass bowl, it truly is an exquisite piece. Do you think you would sell it in your..... Oh don't glare at me like that, I was only offering to let you have it for free, I would not even take my usual fee...Oh very well."
Night moved and sat on an overstuffed armchair, she knew that Furien was stalling, this usually meant that he was trying to hide something from her, and the way her stomach had churned at the mere mention of the name, it could not have been pleasant.
"Right, you asked for this remember, I do not claim any responsibility for your actions after I have divulged this information. But uh.. ok here we go. I believe it was around two hundred years ago, the Cannoness, I don't know her actual name I am afraid, might have been an elf, maybe something else long-lived. Could have been a leech for all I know. They were around back then too. Anyways, I believe she had something to do with the extinction, of your clan."
He stopped, looked at Nightshade and waited for some response. She sat rigid in the chair, her nails digging into the arms and pulling at some of the stuffing. In her minds eye she could see the flames, smell the burnt flesh and hear the screams, she was still a young elf then, just over a century old. She had been promised to a handsome elven swordDancer, he had been teaching her the ways of the blade ever since her half century life day. He had been found pinned to the wall. A small sob escaped her lips, she drew in a shuddering breath and then stood up.
"Thank you Furien, this has been interesting."
As she turned to leave she kept her head down so the dragon did not see her crying, if she had looked back at her friend, she would have seen the huge red-haired human running a rough hand over his own face as well.
Night moved around the small apartment with fluid grace and practiced ease. She did not need much light to see by and the light spell she had subconsciously summoned was still potent enough for her to use as she grabbed the items she thought she might need. As she neared the front door, looking for her lockpicking set, she noticed a folded piece of paper sitting on the mat. Curious as to what it could be, she knew it would only be Furien, she opened it up.
Information broker, the werewolf, found dead. Keep yourself alert and make sure those you can trust are still trustworthy. F
She crumbled the paper up and walked back into her room, pulling off her nightdress and grabbing some dark, but loosefitting clothes from her drawers, she quickly and methodically got dressed, it seemed like she would not get much sleep anyways, so she might as well go looking for information of her own. Especially if the Cannoness was the same one responsible for her entire clan's eradication. Strapping on daggers, and checking to make sure her enchanted sword was loose in it's sheathe she braided her hair and slipped on a cloak. Revenge was a dish served cold after all.
But first she had to go see and old friend, she just hoped the vampiress was in the receiving mood.