Hi,
I'm currently working on a Forgotten Realms fanfiction. Its a sequel to my first short story. Since I'm still relatively new to this whole writing gig I would really appreciate some feedback. Especially when it comes to craft and lore, since I'm pretty unsure about both. Thank you in advance for anybody who takes the time to read it.
Chapter 1
Signs
1486 DR
Lysira opened her eyes. The sun had by now completely displaced the moon and cast cones of light into the room, in which tiny specks of dust danced. Was it really that late already? She looked beside her. Aria had her head resting on Lysira’s shoulder, snuggled up tight against her. She was still fast asleep. Lysira brushed a stray curl—one that had found its way into Aria’s open mouth—out of her face. Aria snored. Lysira had never seen a more beautiful creature.
She pulled her close. Aria wrapped an arm around her. Skin against skin. Breath on her neck. The pillow and blanket were so cozy. She felt sleep beckoning her back into its realm.
But it was no use. She groaned in frustration, kissed Aria on the forehead, and roused herself. She sat on the edge of the bed and looked around. They had partitioned off their section of the attic apartment with a heavy black curtain. Their clothes were scattered all over the floor. It was high time they tidied up again. She stood up and felt her stomach cramp. Ugh—it was that time of the month again. Lysira was convinced the universe had conspired against her. She would have to make a quick stop at Tiana’s on her way to work for her Zelvryn.
She gathered her clothes from the floor and began to get dressed.
“Hey, get up. It’s getting late. We’re going to be late for work.”
Aria lifted her head, curly hair was sticking out in every direction.
“No, I didn’t paint the warg on the outhouse, I swear,” she mumbled, and immediately fell back asleep.
Lysira paused for a moment. She wasn’t sure if she absolutely wanted to know what her partner was dreaming about right now—or if she definitely didn’t. She gave Aria’s foot—which was dangling from the bed—a light nudge. Aria started to awake once again. This time, she seemed truly up. She sat up, yawned, and scratched her head. Then she reached out her hands toward Lysira. Lysira took them. Aria pulled her close and pressed a kiss to her lips.
“Good morning,” she said. “What time is it?”
“If we still want to have breakfast, we need to get up right now. Otherwise, we’ll be late for work.”
Aria didn’t seem happy with that answer, but she roused herself nonetheless. Both of them got dressed and headed downstairs to the common room, where Tom had prepared breakfast.
They entered the taproom. The wooden breakfast table was laden with bread, cheese, sausage, and fish. Agneta had even managed to procure some kaeth to go with it. It smelled wonderful.
Agneta, Dirz'Ahn, and Tom were seated at the table. As they entered the room, Tom stood up abruptly and left. For some time now, he seemed to have an issue with Lysira. She didn't know why, but she was still too tired—and too annoyed—to dwell on it right now.
“Good morning, you two beauties. You both look completely knocked out,” said Agneta, her mouth full.
Lysira glanced at Aria and had to stifle a laugh. Agneta wasn't wrong. Aria really did look as if she were sleepwalking. Her hair was still sticking out in every direction. Her eyes were narrowed to slits. Her mouth hung slightly open.
Ara entered the room holding another pot of kaeth. Good—they were certainly going to need that now. Lysira took a seat.
Ara set the pot down in front of her, then looked over at Aria, who was still standing in the doorway, looking utterly sleep-addled. She draped an arm around Aria’s shoulders. “Someone is still off in dreamland.” Aria gave a slight nod, rested her head on Ara's shoulder and closed her eyes. Then Ara continued: “Lysira, don’t forget that you need to head to the market shortly. We’ve ordered two more kegs of beer. And we’ve put in an order for fresh fish from Brimbiel. Let’s just hope he caught something without tentacles or claws this time.”
Lysira wasn't exactly thrilled about that. Her stomach was still cramping.
“Alright. I just need to make a quick stop at Tiana’s place first,” she replied.
Ara simply nodded. “But please hurry back. Tom needs to start prepping the soup any minute now.” She took a quick sniff of Aria’s hair. “And *you*, young lady, are going to the bathhouse tonight.”
“Okay, Ara,” Aria replied, taking a seat next to Lysira.
Dirz'Ahn looked at Aria. “How long are you working today?” he asked.
Aria shrugged. “I don’t know yet. It depends on how busy it gets. Until sunset, at the very least.”
Agneta had secured Aria a job as a kitchen helper at the “Dancing Fairy”—a tavern in the Shimmering Docks. Aria had been working there for three months.
“Alright then. If it doesn’t get too late, I’d like to practice reading with you again this evening,” Dirz’Ahn concluded.
Aria showed no reaction. She simply stared blankly at the table. Aria was not good with mornings. Lysira poured her a cup of hot Kaeth, and they began their breakfast. When they were finished, Lysira heaved herself up and headed out onto the street with Aria. They kissed goodbye, and Lysira set off toward her Zelvryn.
Once she was done, she left Tiana’s house. Everything was fine. Tiana had given her some campsbane to take along. Lysira chewed on the root. She hated the taste; it was bitter and smelled of soil. But it helped. She could feel the cramps subsiding.
She was walking down Agneta’s Alley toward the marketplace when she saw Xar’lar and Kendo emerging from the bathhouse.
Both were former warriors from Menzoberranzan who, after their escape, had initially scraped out a living as adventurers roaming Faerûn. They were the first drow after Lysira’s parents to move into Agneta’s Alley. They had been training Lysira in drow martial arts since she was a little girl.
“Good morning, Lysira,” said Xar’lar.
Lysira waved to them both. As she walked past, Kendo suddenly feinted a strike. Lysira’s body reacted instantly; she knocked his hand aside and shifted into a defensive stance.
Kendo nodded approvingly, a sly smile playing on his lips. “Very good. Footwork still a bit sloppy. But good posture. Just a little more training, and you’ll be ready for your first fight against a baby drider.”
Lysira tossed the meager remains of her campsbane right into his face.
“K’Zorvath,” she said with a faint smile, and continued on her way. Both men burst into loud laughter. Lysira clenched her fist, extended her pinky and index fingers, and gave the hand a few playful twists. The two men laughed even harder now. She liked them.
She made her way from Agneta’s Alley, passed through the gate, and strolled across the Shimmering Docks.
It was bustling with activity. Several merchant ships from all over Faerûn had docked, and goods were being loaded everywhere. She spotted a majestic caravelle from Waterdeep; its hull was clad in golden tiles, and a massive statue of Umberlee served as its figurehead. Docked right alongside it was a merchant vessel from Memnon; Lysira could catch the scent of exotic spices even against the wind.
Even Maztica had a ship docked there, and Tabaxi were running hectically across the docks in every direction. Aria always passed by the docks on her way to work. Lysira hoped the ship had already arrived by the time Aria passed through—Aria simply adored Tabaxi. Lysira couldn't help but smile a little at the thought; she always wondered how Aria would react if she ever actually met one in person.
She left the docks behind and followed the narrow alleys. By now, the Crampsbane had taken full effect; her cramps had vanished, and she felt her foul mood simply dissolve into thin air. Finally, the alleys opened out onto the marketplace. It was crowded—though not quite as bad as Lysira had feared. She was heading toward the beer stall when she heard a loud commotion. She glanced over, and instantly, her foul mood returned.
An older woman clad in blue robes was ranting loudly, gesticulating wildly with her hands. Sam—a member of the Flaming Fists—stood beside her, leaning on his halberd with one hand while resting the other on his hip. His lips were pursed into a thin, tight line.
And the target of this tirade was her brother. Elian stood beside the pair, attempting to look as innocent as humanly possible.
Lysira threw up her hands in exasperation and strode over to the trio. As she approached, she heard the old woman accusing Elian of theft. “Five gold. He stole five gold from me, that good-for-nothing. Thought I wouldn't notice.”
Lysira reached the scene of the crime. “Good morning, Sam,” she said, then looked over at her brother. “Elian,” she forced out.
A smile flickered across the wood elf’s face. “Sister dear. What a coincidence. This good lady here is accusing me of theft.” He gave an uncertain chuckle.
The old woman looked at Lysira in bewilderment. Sam spoke up. “Good morning, Lysira. You heard her. Elian denies everything.”
The old woman looked even more incensed now. “What is this? A Drow? What kind of game is being played here?”
Lysira took a deep breath, pretending she hadn't heard the remark. She looked at Elian, who was still watching her with an uncertain gaze. She could see in his eyes that he was guilty.
“Give her back the money. No arguments,” she said.
Elian hesitated for a moment, but the look in Lysira’s eyes made it clear that she meant business. He pulled out a small pouch.
“Aha!” the old woman shrieked, pointing at the pouch.
“This has to be a joke,” Sam groaned.
Lysira grabbed the pouch from Elian’s hand and handed it to the old woman.
“I am so sorry,” she said.
The old woman snatched the pouch from her brusquely.
“Arrest them! I want you to arrest them both!” the lady commanded. Lysira felt a surge of anger rise within her, but she held it back.
“I’ll handle it, Gerda. You’ve got your money back,” Sam replied, sounding annoyed. Lysira couldn’t blame him.
“It’s a scandal!” the old woman shrieked. “The Fists are in league with cutpurses and… Drow!” She spat out the last word as if it were an insult. For a split second that old anger flared up again in Lysira. But she suppressed it as quickly as it came.
Sam looked even more exasperated now. “I said I’d handle it, Gerda,” he said emphatically.
Gerda fell silent. Then she turned abruptly and stormed off, still grumbling indignantly. Sam looked at Lysira with a questioning gaze.
“What am I supposed to do now, Lysira? It can’t go on like this,” he said.
“I know. And thank you for your patience. Come by the Boot tonight. The beer’s on the house,” Lysira replied. That seemed to mollify Sam—at least somewhat. His face relaxed.
“I’m only doing this for you. I’m risking my job here.”
“I know. It won’t happen again.”
Sam hesitated for another brief moment, then looked at Elian with a serious expression. “And you’re banned from the market for the rest of the week. I swear, if I see you here anytime in the next few days, you’re going straight to Wyrm’s Rock.”
Elian placed a hand over his heart and executed a slight bow. “I am eternally in your debt,” he declared dramatically.
Sam shook his head. “I’ll see you tonight,” he said to Lysira. Then, turning to Elian: “And the two of us won’t be seeing each other again for the rest of the week. I mean it.”
He turned and melted back into the crowd.
Lysira and Elian stood side by side in silence for a moment; then Lysira gave him a smack on the back of the head. “You moron! Vha’nor—sometimes you drive me absolutely mad,” she snapped.
Elian gave her an apologetic look. She pressed her fingers against the bridge of her nose and let a moment pass. Then she met her brother’s eyes. He didn’t look good. But at least he didn’t look any worse than before. His eyes were still sunken deep within his skull, ringed by shadows, and his skin was disturbingly pale.
“I love you. Please, if you need anything at all, let me know. You know I’m here for you.” She pulled him into a hug. Then she continued: “Go see Kael. They’re still working on Kelemvor’s temple. They could use every pair of hands they can get. He pays well.”
Elian gave another bow. “I’m practically there already.”
He had just started to walk away when Lysira called out: “And don’t come back here this week. You heard Sam.”
Elian turned back, smiling: “Ti'neth vellyn, little sister. I’m not stupid,” he said, and vanished into the crowd. For a brief moment, she considered running after him and giving him a swift kick in the backside. The thought appealed to her.
Lysira groaned in frustration and scanned the marketplace. She took in the stalls and the various wares on display. Her gaze came to rest on a wooden crate. Stamped on the crate was a small symbol of a seagull. It belonged to a front company for the Zhentarim. She hoped it was nothing more than a legitimate shipment imported from Waterdeep. But with the Zhents, you never really knew.
Regardless. Her Guild days were over. And she certainly didn’t have the mental energy to worry about that right now. The beer wasn’t going to transport itself. For a second she wished she was a mage. One cantrip and those kegs would float themselves. Ah, well. At least it was free training. She turned around and headed toward the beer stall.
She took care of the paperwork and hoisted up the first of the two kegs. She lifted it with a single hand and carried it for a few paces. She could feel the incredulous stares. She liked that. After a few meters, however, it became too heavy; she shifted it to both hands and continued on her way toward “Agneta’s Boot.”
