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Date Posted: 01:19:16 03/01/02 Fri
Author: Laurel
Subject: Hell of an epiphany
In reply to: Rowan 's message, "How many fingers are you holding up?" on 00:41:27 03/01/02 Fri

Laurel, like Jade, was caught staring at Erlic as he single-handedly defeated what appeared to be two Sharm, with only three successive moves. However, unlike the other woman, Laurel found herself aghast and even—yes, even afraid of the man she was watching, wondering at what sort of creature could kill with such cold, clean, merciless efficiency.

“Shado!” she breathed, pushing one fist against her breast, though she knew that was a foolish thing to say. But he fought so like them, and spoke, acted, moved as they did, like killers, hunters—assassins.

“No,” she muttered with a practical shake of her head. “Impossible. How can there be an assassin in our midst and none of us come to realize it?” Automatically, her face went white, and suddenly she remembered her mother’s ghost. She and Erlic had been riding together through the ruins of Kazabet’s city just outside her palace, and had somehow stirred up spirits from their pasts. And her mother…her mother had questioned her about the assassin in their midst!

There was no time to dwell on hideous realizations at the moment, though, for Marz and Jade had begun to explore again, the pair pushing aside an old, crumbling alter, revealing a staircase leading downward into the ground. Silly to think it would be unguarded, though the girl merrily trooped forward, anxious to see what treasures the underground room housed. (Laurel didn’t know Ravin had given her his magic trap removal devise, of course.)

Nevertheless, they were all surprised when the herd of giant, black spiders came hurtling into the temple from the hidden alter-door, immediately attacking and pinning Jade to the wall. Laurel reacted and considered at the same time, realizing her energy was too spent on the magelights to employ any means of magic to aid her friends. Rapidly, she strung the bamboo bow previously strapped across her back, and began nocking arrow after arrow, sending the projectiles plunging into fleshy spider parts, never missing her mark once. She did after all have the eye of a country huntress who could shoot the tiny black eye out of a ptarmigan in winter, as her mother used to say.

All the while, her methodical mind was going over two things: one was her reaction to the spirit’s revelation. She would question her brother at the first opportunity, and pray her mother’s ghost had been referring to him alone. Second, she was considering her own reaction to watching Erlic. She was no longer a young aristocrat at court, she acknowledged, calmly letting loose another arrow to fly straight between two of the eight eyes in the spider lunging toward her.

She traveled with a group of adventurers; dirty, common folk, noble in their own, incredible right; brave and kind and full of spirit. Here she was, standing in the ruins of an ancient temple, dirt and sweat coating her hair and face. No. She was no longer a Goldleaf, proud heir to a fortune. She was an adventurer, just as they all were, and it was time she stopped bemoaning her fate and just learned to pull her weight and be of what benefit she possibly could.

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