mickume/dnd_drow · Datasets at Hugging Face

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"Is there a memory that plagues you, as well?"
"There is," the sorceress breathed sharply. "There was one day where I went to visit the countryside with Torriel and his father. He did not care what we did. He had other business with ill-meaning fellows. He was not the best chaperone," she laughed softly. "We rode our horses out to the meadow on the edge of their land. We talked for hours as we lay in the grass, away from the prying eyes of society." To Aethelle's surprise, a tear rolled down her cheek.
"I suppose we will never be free of these thoughts."
"Most likely not.".
"Then perhaps, one day, they will be a bit easier to endure."
The sorceress looked at wizard, who was wiping his own cheek with his hand.
"How fortunate," Aethelle began softly, "that our misfortunes brought us together."
"Then, I must come to the second matter I wish to address with you. I wish to thank you."
"For your friendship," he smiled.
"I suppose I could thank you for that as well," the sorceress smiled back at him.
The five companions sat in the lounge once more, the tone quite happier than that of the previous day. Aethelle yawned and rubbed her eyes, pouring herself another cup of coffee from the kettle. It was now later in the morning, but the sorceress could not stop herself from continuing to drink the brew in her exhaustion.
"Did you not rest well?" asked Shadowheart.
"Well enough, I suppose." Aethelle smiled back at her, the bags under her eyes deceiving her words.
Ryn glared at Astarion. "You damned vampire," he spat. "Stop keeping her up at a time like this. We may have a battle on the horizon."
"I can assure you, I did not drink a drop of blood from her last night," replied Astarion, holding up his hands defensively.
"Do you really think that's what I meant?" the paladin retorted.
Aethelle spat the coffee from her mouth. Shadowheart and Gale snickered. Astarion smiled wickedly.
"Must you torture me like this, Ryn?" asked the sorceress, her face in her hands once more.
"As your basically-brother, yes. I must. Your companions did well, filling me in on the last several weeks of your life. But I still find it hard to believe that you came home with a vampire-lover," Ryn said as he gestured towards Astarion. "Was there not another in your camp that piqued your interest?"
"Oh I do believe she was quite taken with the druid," Astarion's smile somehow grew wider.
The sorceress groaned from her hands.
"Wait. Halsin? I mean, he certainly is a... large man indeed," added Gale.
"You are not helping, wizard," snapped Aethelle.
Shadowheart pointed at Astarion and Aethelle, her eyebrow raised. "Now wait just a moment. Did the two of you and Halsin—"
"No!" Astarion and Aethelle yelled in unison.
"Curious. I can't say that if he asked me the same question, that I would decline," replied Shadowheart nonchalantly. The four others looked at her in shock.
Ryn suddenly looked out the window as something caught his periphery. "Is that a carriage?"
"I certainly hope so," groaned Aethelle. "I will take any distraction from this conversation."
"I think that's the Viscount."
Ryn furiously pulled out his sword. "What a stupid man indeed, to come here when we can finally slice the meat clean from his bones!"
"Perhaps slaying the noble in the very public street would not be the best of plans," said Shadowheart.
"No, it most certainly would not! Unless we feel a penchant for hanging from the gallows today!" exclaimed Gale.
"What would you have me do?" scowled Ryn.
Aethelle stood up. "He is not going to leave until he speaks with me. As of right now," she spoke as she turned to Gale and Shadowheart, "he does not know the two of you exist, and we should keep it that way to maintain the upper hand." She turned back to Ryn and Astarion. "He knows of you both. I will go hear what he has to say, and you can both look at Torriel menacingly from behind me."
"Are you sure, my dear?" asked Astarion.
"Yes. It will be fine," she smiled. "After all, I have allies, don't I?"
She stood up and smoothed out her dress. The two men in armor followed her as she walked out the door. Aethelle felt the anxiety grip her throat. But, somehow, the necromancer's presence was a little easier to bear today. She breathed deeply and held her head high. He would not best her. He couldn’t. She would not allow it.
Ryndel stepped ahead to open the iron gate for her, sneering at Torriel.
"Ah, Lord Faennawedd. It has been some time," smiled Torriel.
"Unfortunately, not long enough, Lord Zantharen."
"Oh do spare me your venom, Baron."
"Then spare me your hands again, Viscount."
The necromancer’s face twisted as the paladin moved himself behind the sorceress once more.
"I believe you did not do me the honor of introducing me to your other companion, Aeth."
"No, I did not."
"Come now," his voice dripped with spite. "We wouldn't want to cause a scene in public, you obstinate wench." Aethelle laughed at his remark.
"Very well, if you must. Lord Astarion Ancunín of Neverwinter," she gestured towards her lover.
"Neverwinter? Curious. You do remind me of a certain magistrate who once resided here," the necromancer smiled wickedly.
"Oh do I? Why, are you looking for a death sentence?" snarled Astarion.
"Now boys, behave." Aethelle turned to Torriel. "What is it you want exactly, my Lord?"
"My Lady, I was so hoping you would do me the honor of attending the ball I am hosting tomorrow night." Torriel pulled an invitation from the servant next to him before handing it to Aethelle.
"And why, my Lord, should I ever feel so inclined?" retorted the sorceress.
"Do you forget the power I hold here, my dear?" scoffed the Viscount. "Let me rephrase myself. You will attend. And we will end this nonsense once and for all."
"Certainly, my Lord. When you put it like that, how could I decline?" replied Aethelle.
"So eager for blood. If I didn't know any better, I'd believe you were the vampire standing before me."
"Well, fortunately for you, Ryndel did not also gouge out your eyes when he took your hands, so that you may clearly see I am not."
Torriel leaned closer to her, his face malicious. Ryn and Astarion placed a hand on each of their weapons. Aethelle's countenance did not change.
"How unfortunate for both of us," Torriel hissed, "that I did not realize you are nothing more than a bitch when we first met."
"Call me whatever names you want, my Lord. Because at the end of the day, I know you better than anyone. And I know you would not direct such hostility at him," she whispered, gesturing to Astarion, "if you were not madly jealous that I loved someone who was not you."
She leaned back, looking at the Viscount with disdain. His nostrils flared as his face contorted with rage.
"I will attend your ball, at your most gracious invitation, my Lord. Now I must take my leave, so that I might prepare." She turned and began to walk away, her companions following her. The sorceress stopped for a moment to look over her shoulder once more, before uttering a warning to Torriel.
"You should do the same."
"A ball, hmm? It has been quite some time since I attended such an occasion. My last soiree was a reunion for the wizard's academy at Waterdeep," said Gale.
"That sounds like less of a party and more of a lecture," retorted Aethelle.
"Is it not supposed to be?" asked Gale, his face perplexed.
Ryn rubbed his chin, deep in thought. "Why a ball, though? Seems awfully public, if we are to mince his body."
Aethelle leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. "He's always been the theatrical type."
Shadowheart sipped her coffee once more. "It seems more psychological to me," she began. "He wants you to feel trapped, surrounded by socialites you despise, while you can't utter a word or lay a hand against him." Aethelle nodded in agreement.
"Not like he can do much either while there's still people there," added Astarion.
"In that case, when he dismisses the crowd, he will inevitably force us to stay. Once he's done toying with us, that is, whatever that may entail." The paladin rolled his eyes. "He needs every advantage he can get, now that he knows it's not just us two," said Ryn, gesturing to Aethelle.
"He won't be suspecting us, though," Gale smiled, gesturing to the cleric. "I believe Shadowheart and I should join in as well. When the crowd dissipates, we'll hang back, waiting for the spells to start flying."
"If we stick to the shadows, it should be easy to infiltrate," added Shadowheart.
"Oh, you know how I hate being stealthy!" groaned Gale.
"You'll most likely have to disguise yourselves as nobility. The footmen will be on every door, I'm sure." Ryn furrowed his brow. "You two don't seem like you'd be the most convincing to them, though."
Shadowheart and Gale narrowed their eyes at Ryn.
"Look," coughed Ryn, "I imagine you would either leave threatening the staff or insulting their intelligence, is all I'm saying."
"And?" asked Shadowheart.
"Oh, please. I may be verbose, but I have never presented myself condescendingly," remarked Gale.
The four others stared at him dubiously.
The paladin put a palm to his forehead. "I'll go in with you two, and say you're visiting from Waterdeep. Torriel's men won't have their eyes on me like they will Aethelle, and my station should carry enough."
"Astarion and I will enter the party together, then." Aethelle took another sip of her coffee. "Until he beckons us to fight."
"There's nothing quite like a party ending in bloodshed," smirked Astarion.
"That leaves one order of business, then," Aethelle said calmly, the others looking at her inquisitively.
"If we are all to attend the Viscount's grand ball," the sorceress smiled, "then I believe we must do some shopping."
Aethelle and Shadowheart walked down the cobblestone path, arm in arm, both wearing casual day dresses. They made way for the modiste in the Upper City, looking to find the perfect ballgowns for the two women. Of course, the Lady Veluthezara had plenty of gowns to choose from, but why deny herself the chance for another? It was quite a faux pas to wear the same dress again to a grand ball, after all.
"Do you think the boys will be okay at the tailor?" asked Shadowheart.
"Oh, absolutely not," laughed Aethelle. "Too bad Ryn is much too big to share any of his clothes. A shame we don't have time to trek down and see Figaro again, though."
"Have you been to this... modiste before?"
"I have not. She's new to the Upper, from what Ryn told me," replied Aethelle. "He said his sisters had a pleasant experience. If the modiste can handle any of the Faennawedd women, then we're in luck."
Shadowheart smiled. "I suppose they are just as outspoken as Ryn, then."
"Indeed. In fact, he is the youngest of six, the rest of them women. He had to get it from somewhere," grinned the sorceress.
"No wonder he adores you so," added the cleric. "He was probably thrilled to dote over you, and to finally have a younger sister."
"He may drive me up a wall," said Aethelle through bared teeth, "but I must say I was also thrilled to have an older brother."
"What did you do when you were kids, and he would sneak over?" asked Shadowheart, her interest piqued.
"Well, we stayed in the gardens behind my house, where my parents couldn't see his intrusion. When we were younger, we would play, or read, or just talk and stare up at the clouds." Aethelle smiled at the sky as she reminisced. "He felt a lot of responsibility, knowing he would one day become the Baron Faennawedd." The sorceress narrowed her eyes at the ground. "He didn't know it would happen so soon, though. His mother and father passed when a group of brigands assaulted their carriage on the way back from the country."
"I imagine he felt much grief." Shadowheart's breath hitched, and Aethelle squeezed her arm tightly.
"He did," the sorceress affirmed. "He came over frequently after that, to ask for my counsel." Aethelle let out a quiet laugh. "I didn't think I was the most qualified person to give him advice, but he trusted me, so I did my best."
"I think most of our companions would agree that you are the best one of us to go to for counsel," said Shadowheart warmly, smiling to the sorceress.
Aethelle smiled back at her friend. "Perhaps I should make a career of it, then." The two women's laughter rang out as they continued down the street.
"I believe this is it," the cleric and the sorceress stopped at the orange storefront nestled between the other buildings. The wooden sign on the door, still quite new, had "MODISTE" written across in bright pink cursive. Pink hydrangeas decorated the windowsill, the window itself displaying several dresses. As Aethelle took a step forward, Shadowheart hesitated.

"Is there a memory that plagues you, as well?"

"There is," the sorceress breathed sharply. "There was one day where I went to visit the countryside with Torriel and his father. He did not care what we did. He had other business with ill-meaning fellows. He was not the best chaperone," she laughed softly. "We rode our horses out to the meadow on the edge of their land. We talked for hours as we lay in the grass, away from the prying eyes of society." To Aethelle's surprise, a tear rolled down her cheek.

"I suppose we will never be free of these thoughts."

"Most likely not.".

"Then perhaps, one day, they will be a bit easier to endure."

The sorceress looked at wizard, who was wiping his own cheek with his hand.

"How fortunate," Aethelle began softly, "that our misfortunes brought us together."

"Then, I must come to the second matter I wish to address with you. I wish to thank you."

"For your friendship," he smiled.

"I suppose I could thank you for that as well," the sorceress smiled back at him.

The five companions sat in the lounge once more, the tone quite happier than that of the previous day. Aethelle yawned and rubbed her eyes, pouring herself another cup of coffee from the kettle. It was now later in the morning, but the sorceress could not stop herself from continuing to drink the brew in her exhaustion.

"Did you not rest well?" asked Shadowheart.

"Well enough, I suppose." Aethelle smiled back at her, the bags under her eyes deceiving her words.

Ryn glared at Astarion. "You damned vampire," he spat. "Stop keeping her up at a time like this. We may have a battle on the horizon."

"I can assure you, I did not drink a drop of blood from her last night," replied Astarion, holding up his hands defensively.

"Do you really think that's what I meant?" the paladin retorted.

Aethelle spat the coffee from her mouth. Shadowheart and Gale snickered. Astarion smiled wickedly.

"Must you torture me like this, Ryn?" asked the sorceress, her face in her hands once more.

"As your basically-brother, yes. I must. Your companions did well, filling me in on the last several weeks of your life. But I still find it hard to believe that you came home with a vampire-lover," Ryn said as he gestured towards Astarion. "Was there not another in your camp that piqued your interest?"

"Oh I do believe she was quite taken with the druid," Astarion's smile somehow grew wider.

The sorceress groaned from her hands.

"Wait. Halsin? I mean, he certainly is a... large man indeed," added Gale.

"You are not helping, wizard," snapped Aethelle.

Shadowheart pointed at Astarion and Aethelle, her eyebrow raised. "Now wait just a moment. Did the two of you and Halsin—"

"No!" Astarion and Aethelle yelled in unison.

"Curious. I can't say that if he asked me the same question, that I would decline," replied Shadowheart nonchalantly. The four others looked at her in shock.

Ryn suddenly looked out the window as something caught his periphery. "Is that a carriage?"

"I certainly hope so," groaned Aethelle. "I will take any distraction from this conversation."

"I think that's the Viscount."

Ryn furiously pulled out his sword. "What a stupid man indeed, to come here when we can finally slice the meat clean from his bones!"

"Perhaps slaying the noble in the very public street would not be the best of plans," said Shadowheart.

"No, it most certainly would not! Unless we feel a penchant for hanging from the gallows today!" exclaimed Gale.

"What would you have me do?" scowled Ryn.

Aethelle stood up. "He is not going to leave until he speaks with me. As of right now," she spoke as she turned to Gale and Shadowheart, "he does not know the two of you exist, and we should keep it that way to maintain the upper hand." She turned back to Ryn and Astarion. "He knows of you both. I will go hear what he has to say, and you can both look at Torriel menacingly from behind me."

"Are you sure, my dear?" asked Astarion.

"Yes. It will be fine," she smiled. "After all, I have allies, don't I?"

She stood up and smoothed out her dress. The two men in armor followed her as she walked out the door. Aethelle felt the anxiety grip her throat. But, somehow, the necromancer's presence was a little easier to bear today. She breathed deeply and held her head high. He would not best her. He couldn’t. She would not allow it.

Ryndel stepped ahead to open the iron gate for her, sneering at Torriel.

"Ah, Lord Faennawedd. It has been some time," smiled Torriel.

"Unfortunately, not long enough, Lord Zantharen."

"Oh do spare me your venom, Baron."

"Then spare me your hands again, Viscount."

The necromancer’s face twisted as the paladin moved himself behind the sorceress once more.

"I believe you did not do me the honor of introducing me to your other companion, Aeth."

"No, I did not."

"Come now," his voice dripped with spite. "We wouldn't want to cause a scene in public, you obstinate wench." Aethelle laughed at his remark.

"Very well, if you must. Lord Astarion Ancunín of Neverwinter," she gestured towards her lover.

"Neverwinter? Curious. You do remind me of a certain magistrate who once resided here," the necromancer smiled wickedly.

"Oh do I? Why, are you looking for a death sentence?" snarled Astarion.

"Now boys, behave." Aethelle turned to Torriel. "What is it you want exactly, my Lord?"

"My Lady, I was so hoping you would do me the honor of attending the ball I am hosting tomorrow night." Torriel pulled an invitation from the servant next to him before handing it to Aethelle.

"And why, my Lord, should I ever feel so inclined?" retorted the sorceress.

"Do you forget the power I hold here, my dear?" scoffed the Viscount. "Let me rephrase myself. You will attend. And we will end this nonsense once and for all."

"Certainly, my Lord. When you put it like that, how could I decline?" replied Aethelle.

"So eager for blood. If I didn't know any better, I'd believe you were the vampire standing before me."

"Well, fortunately for you, Ryndel did not also gouge out your eyes when he took your hands, so that you may clearly see I am not."

Torriel leaned closer to her, his face malicious. Ryn and Astarion placed a hand on each of their weapons. Aethelle's countenance did not change.

"How unfortunate for both of us," Torriel hissed, "that I did not realize you are nothing more than a bitch when we first met."

"Call me whatever names you want, my Lord. Because at the end of the day, I know you better than anyone. And I know you would not direct such hostility at him," she whispered, gesturing to Astarion, "if you were not madly jealous that I loved someone who was not you."

She leaned back, looking at the Viscount with disdain. His nostrils flared as his face contorted with rage.

"I will attend your ball, at your most gracious invitation, my Lord. Now I must take my leave, so that I might prepare." She turned and began to walk away, her companions following her. The sorceress stopped for a moment to look over her shoulder once more, before uttering a warning to Torriel.

"You should do the same."

"A ball, hmm? It has been quite some time since I attended such an occasion. My last soiree was a reunion for the wizard's academy at Waterdeep," said Gale.

"That sounds like less of a party and more of a lecture," retorted Aethelle.

"Is it not supposed to be?" asked Gale, his face perplexed.

Ryn rubbed his chin, deep in thought. "Why a ball, though? Seems awfully public, if we are to mince his body."

Aethelle leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. "He's always been the theatrical type."

Shadowheart sipped her coffee once more. "It seems more psychological to me," she began. "He wants you to feel trapped, surrounded by socialites you despise, while you can't utter a word or lay a hand against him." Aethelle nodded in agreement.

"Not like he can do much either while there's still people there," added Astarion.

"In that case, when he dismisses the crowd, he will inevitably force us to stay. Once he's done toying with us, that is, whatever that may entail." The paladin rolled his eyes. "He needs every advantage he can get, now that he knows it's not just us two," said Ryn, gesturing to Aethelle.

"He won't be suspecting us, though," Gale smiled, gesturing to the cleric. "I believe Shadowheart and I should join in as well. When the crowd dissipates, we'll hang back, waiting for the spells to start flying."

"If we stick to the shadows, it should be easy to infiltrate," added Shadowheart.

"Oh, you know how I hate being stealthy!" groaned Gale.

"You'll most likely have to disguise yourselves as nobility. The footmen will be on every door, I'm sure." Ryn furrowed his brow. "You two don't seem like you'd be the most convincing to them, though."

Shadowheart and Gale narrowed their eyes at Ryn.

"Look," coughed Ryn, "I imagine you would either leave threatening the staff or insulting their intelligence, is all I'm saying."

"And?" asked Shadowheart.

"Oh, please. I may be verbose, but I have never presented myself condescendingly," remarked Gale.

The four others stared at him dubiously.

The paladin put a palm to his forehead. "I'll go in with you two, and say you're visiting from Waterdeep. Torriel's men won't have their eyes on me like they will Aethelle, and my station should carry enough."

"Astarion and I will enter the party together, then." Aethelle took another sip of her coffee. "Until he beckons us to fight."

"There's nothing quite like a party ending in bloodshed," smirked Astarion.

"That leaves one order of business, then," Aethelle said calmly, the others looking at her inquisitively.

"If we are all to attend the Viscount's grand ball," the sorceress smiled, "then I believe we must do some shopping."

Aethelle and Shadowheart walked down the cobblestone path, arm in arm, both wearing casual day dresses. They made way for the modiste in the Upper City, looking to find the perfect ballgowns for the two women. Of course, the Lady Veluthezara had plenty of gowns to choose from, but why deny herself the chance for another? It was quite a faux pas to wear the same dress again to a grand ball, after all.

"Do you think the boys will be okay at the tailor?" asked Shadowheart.

"Oh, absolutely not," laughed Aethelle. "Too bad Ryn is much too big to share any of his clothes. A shame we don't have time to trek down and see Figaro again, though."

"Have you been to this... modiste before?"

"I have not. She's new to the Upper, from what Ryn told me," replied Aethelle. "He said his sisters had a pleasant experience. If the modiste can handle any of the Faennawedd women, then we're in luck."

Shadowheart smiled. "I suppose they are just as outspoken as Ryn, then."

"Indeed. In fact, he is the youngest of six, the rest of them women. He had to get it from somewhere," grinned the sorceress.

"No wonder he adores you so," added the cleric. "He was probably thrilled to dote over you, and to finally have a younger sister."

"He may drive me up a wall," said Aethelle through bared teeth, "but I must say I was also thrilled to have an older brother."

"What did you do when you were kids, and he would sneak over?" asked Shadowheart, her interest piqued.

"Well, we stayed in the gardens behind my house, where my parents couldn't see his intrusion. When we were younger, we would play, or read, or just talk and stare up at the clouds." Aethelle smiled at the sky as she reminisced. "He felt a lot of responsibility, knowing he would one day become the Baron Faennawedd." The sorceress narrowed her eyes at the ground. "He didn't know it would happen so soon, though. His mother and father passed when a group of brigands assaulted their carriage on the way back from the country."

"I imagine he felt much grief." Shadowheart's breath hitched, and Aethelle squeezed her arm tightly.

"He did," the sorceress affirmed. "He came over frequently after that, to ask for my counsel." Aethelle let out a quiet laugh. "I didn't think I was the most qualified person to give him advice, but he trusted me, so I did my best."

"I think most of our companions would agree that you are the best one of us to go to for counsel," said Shadowheart warmly, smiling to the sorceress.

Aethelle smiled back at her friend. "Perhaps I should make a career of it, then." The two women's laughter rang out as they continued down the street.

"I believe this is it," the cleric and the sorceress stopped at the orange storefront nestled between the other buildings. The wooden sign on the door, still quite new, had "MODISTE" written across in bright pink cursive. Pink hydrangeas decorated the windowsill, the window itself displaying several dresses. As Aethelle took a step forward, Shadowheart hesitated.