Backgrounds

[Gwynnion]

I was cleaning files from my computer this morning, and it dawned on me that I never actually posted Cobweb's background on this message board. I don't know if anyone is still interested, but I figured I'd throw it up here anyhow When I find some spare time, I might add more chapters and other characters, so anyone who's interested, PM or e-mail me with some detailed info about the characters you may want involved. Or better yet, maybe a few of you may be encouraged to write your own?

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Part One

Cobweb sat in the clearing, watching the last rays of the Autumn sun streaming through the trees. Absent-mindedly she plucked blades of grass, blowing on each until she found one tuned to her liking. She whistled a short tune to the sun before letting the grass blow away in the breeze.

Evenings like this always filled her with mixed emotions. This evening in particular, when she could hear the noises of the city even through the South Gate, her mind was filled with memories.

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It had been a cool Autumn evening when a small drow girl, obviously malnourished, stumbled upon the halfling’s camp. Although the smell of stew and warm flatbread was intoxicating to the girl, it was the music which held her transfixed. A small band was playing beside the campfire - panflute, lute and tambourine joining together in a complex and wild melody. Men and women danced together around the fire, even their wildly jumping shadows seeming to join the dance.
Shaking off the spell of the halfling’s music, the drow child make her way around the fringes of the camp - she had work to do. Night fell further, and the music began to slow. Several campers made their way to their tents, some merely laying down in their drunkenness and sleeping by the fire. Still, the child waited - quiet and near motionless. Only when the last musician lay down his lute and the music faded into silence did she dare to make her move.
The girl was a shadow among shadows, silently picking her way through the camp, at times stepping over the snoring halflings. She made several stops, peeking into tents and opening backpacks, even softly running her fingertips down the strings of the discarded lute. Finally, the child climbed up into the provisions wagon and began filling her satchel. Her nimble fingers flipped through crates and bags; salted meat, flatbread and fruit disappearing into her bag.
Both her bag and cheeks now bulging with pilfered food, the young drow dropped from the wagon and faded into the forest. At least, she intended to.
Before the girl had taken even one step, a hand hardly larger than her own descended heavily on her shoulder. A quiet voice dame from the darkness, the speaker’s breath warm on her neck. “That was pretty impressive, girl. Especially that part where you pulled Old Brownfoot’s pack right out from under him. But right now, I think you should give me your bag - and that dagger in your boot - and walk quietly to my tent.”
The child appeared to think for a moment, then quickly dropped to her knees. Surprised, the halfling man dropped his hand to the hilt of his rapier and took a step backward. On the ground before him, the girl began sobbing heavily. Tears welling in her eyes, her thin shoulders trembling, she threw herself forward onto the man’s boots. “Please mister ” she cried, “Please don’t hurt me I was only doing as I was told If I don’t bring food, the others will beat me I’ll never do it again ”
Some of the less inebriated halflings in the camp were beginning to stir, roused by the child’s cries. Apparently confused by the girl’s outburst, the warrior began trying to comfort her. “Er... don’t... uh... don’t cry,” he began. “Everything will be fine. Um... we can work this out, just... you know, calm do-oof ” With a quick twist of her arm, the girl had brought her heavy satchel around and straight into the man’s ribs.
As he doubled over, she muttered “Sucker”, then began her dash out of the camp. Several more halflings were awake now, all staring at the girl with a mix of amusement and admiration. She sneered at the closest before diving and rolling past his legs. Her dance truly began then, the lithe form darting and twisting past the many hands trying to grab her. Several pursuers fell back, shins smarting from angry kicks, fingers nearly bleeding from the girl’s fierce bites.
Women and children began watching from their tents. The children tried to run into the fun; the women alternately cheered for the girl and taunted their husbands. Breaking free of the last man (and landing a rather heavy swing to his elbow), the drow child stopped for a moment at the camp’s edge. Hardly out of breath, she surveyed the chaos she had caused. Her face broke into a wicked grin. With a flip of her stark white hair, the girl gave a little bow.
Before she could straighten up, however, a heavy coil of rope was dropped over her head and tightened around her arms. Her legs were swept from under her - she landed on her backside with a thump. Calmly, lightly rubbing his bruised ribs, the diminutive warrior stepped around the girl. He leaned down until she could see her own red eyes reflected in his wide hazel ones. “Now then. As I was going to say, let’s go back to my tent and talk about what you can do to pay for that food, hmmm?”

[Gwynnion]

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Part Two

“Oy Ye pointy-eared runt ” Hearing the voice of her friend snapped Cobweb out of her reverie. “Crippler, how do you manage to find me just as I get comfortable?” The halfling warrior picked his way through the brush and rocks to stand next to her.
“It’s a talent?” he grinned. Sighing, the drow stretched and adjusted her cloak before accepting Crippler’s outstretched hand. The rough feel of his hand and the mischievous glint in his hazel eyes reminded her - as always - of his father. A deep sadness shot through her heart. Cobweb questioned herself again if it was wise of her to continue traveling with the halflings.
The friends she had made in that first camp were now dead, or dottering in their old age. At one hundred and forty, cobweb was still hardly more than a child to other drow. She glanced at her friend as they walked, only half listening to his discussion of the party that evening. It pained her to realize that, just as she had witnessed Crippler’s birth, she would probably have to witness his death.
Cobweb tried to shake off her morbid thoughts as the pair approached the South Gate. They both paused for a moment, checking pockets and sheaths for various weapons before stepping through. Neither was afraid of what the dark wilderness might hold; the evils of the city were much worse.

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It had been twenty-five years since Gareth Littlefoot had taken the little drow girl into his home. He and his wife Rosemary were childless, and the girl’s arrival had been something of a blessing to the couple. Although she stayed in the Littlefoot tent at night, the girl’s upbringing was the affair of the entire camp. Even her name - Cobweb - was given by group consensus. She spent her days as a shadow, sitting unnoticed for hours, merely watching how the halflings worked and played.
For her first couple years in the camp, Cobweb had been more nervous than an injured deer. She wouldn’t allow anyone to touch her, refused to take her meals with others, even cared for her own childhood scrapes and bruises. The only times she let her guard down was when the fires were lit and the musicians began to play. Hours would go by, and still the girl would sit there. The entire camp might fall asleep around her, but as long as the music kept playing, she was mesmerized.
In her fifth year with the halflings, Gareth brought home a brand new lute. Nothing was said of it, he merely laid it on Cobweb’s pallet while she was out. She never thanked him and he never admitted the gift was from him, but it was the catalyst the girl needed.
The very next morning she approached the master musician of the camp and requested to train with him. Cobweb played every spare minute. She stayed up late, singing quietly to herself outside the Littlefoot tent. As her talent grew, her interests expanded. Now a young woman, cobweb could often be found in the practice field sparring with her adoptive father. When Gareth was injured in a fight with hobgoblins, the drow began studying with the camp’s clerics.
After twenty-five years with the halflings, she was no longer a cobweb in the corner, but the eager spider, spinning her webs of friendship and camaraderie. Rosemary finally had a son that year, a minor miracle she often attributed to the new joy the young drow had brought to her home.
For her part, Cobweb was indeed cheerful around the camp. Some of the older halflings insisted she was part fae - she moved so fast she almost appeared in two places at once. When Crippler was born, she spent more time at the Littlefoot tent, playing and singing for the tiny infant.
When the child was ten, he began training with his father. Cobweb would watch, sometimes joining in their sparring, but usually sitting by herself and composing. Just as she loved seeing the youth and joy in Crippler’s eyes, it pained her to see the age creeping into Gareth’s. The warrior was already nearing his second century. It was obvious he was pushing himself to pass on his knowledge to his dear son.
The year of Cobweb’s seventieth birthday, the hobgoblin raids became worse. For the first time in years, the nightly campfires were silent. No one dared sing or play. The air around the camp was choked with fear and tension. Seeing the stress put on his friends and loved ones, Gareth made the difficult decision to move the camp to the city.

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Cobweb stepped through the gates, feeling the same small thrill she did every time she entered the city. The first time felt like a lifetime ago. Her mind snapped back again to the present, barely catching the last few words her friend had said. “Wait, what? ?”
Sighing, Crippler shook his head. “Have ye been listening to a word I’ve said? I’ve been telling ye, everyone’s waiting... ye are still performing tonight, are ye not?”

[Gwynnion]

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Part Three (pretty long)

While the musicians tuned up on the tiny stage, Cobweb absently adjusted her skirt. The strips of satin and silk falling from her hips to her ankles were a welcome change from leather and chain. Rosemary Littlefoot stood behind the drow, fussing with her unruly mane of white hair. “Really poppet, could ye at least brush it sometimes?” Cobweb grinned, “But MaRose... I have to give you something to keep you busy.”
“To give me heart tremors more like,” the elderly halfling grumbled. Nevertheless, her nimble fingers, unaffected yet by age, coaxed Cobweb’s mess into tight twists and curls. Once assured that every hair was in place, Rose turned her attention to the other dancers’ costumes. Two halfling women waited patiently, each with a long strip of brightly colored satin in her lap.
Cobweb sighed, making her way to the fabric trunk and choosing a length of cherry red satin. Loosening her tunic, she slipped her arms underneath and began the tedious process of binding herself. She normally did this under her armor anyway, but the thought of others seeing her so exposed always filled her with embarrassment.
Soon, though, the musician’s warm-up changed tone. The audience fell into a hush as the drums took prominence. Their primal beat filled her heart and mind as Cobweb took the stage, and any thoughts of embarrassment melted away. There was no audience to her, no lights; nothing but the music coursing through her veins like wildfire.

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Gareth stood on a crate, taking a deep breath before beginning his speech. “Ye all know me. Ye all know what I believe and what I stand for. Ye all asked me to lead this camp, and I have done my best all these years.” He paused; this was more speaking all at once than the old halfling was used to. With a glance at his family - Rosemary, Crippler and Cobweb all smiling warmly at him - he continued.
“The attacks are getting worse. Now, I know there are those of ye who would stay and fight... and lads, if it were only my life at stake I would be with ye. But I have my wife and my near-grown son to think of. Ye’d do well to think of your own.” Again he paused, allowing his words to sink in.
Cobweb glanced around the camp. Families huddled close together, children tucked safely between their parents. The older men, nearly all scarred from past battles, listened closely to Gareth. There was a grim sort of determination on every face.
The meeting lasted long into the night. Finally, it was decided to move the camp to Stormreach. The week-long hike would be no trouble for anyone, and all accounts showed the roads to be mercifully free of monsters... Accounts that would prove to be false.
With only one day’s travel left, Cobweb and Crippler were scouting the road ahead. ‘Scouting’ in this case is a term used loosely, as the pair were spending more energy pelting one another with acorns. If the hobgoblin camp hadn’t erupted into an argument when it did, the two youths would have been in serious trouble. Cobweb quickly dropped to the forest floor, drawing a wicked looking short sword from its sheath. Her halfling friend followed suit, unslinging a shortbow from his back.
The drow inched forward until she could easily see the camp. At least twenty of the beasts were lounging around unlit campfires. It was impossible to tell how many more might be out of sight in tents or on patrol. Using the scouting signs they had learned as children, cobweb outlined the situation and signaled Crippler to retreat. After a moment’s hesitation, the halfling nodded and fell back into the shadows.
With nervous caution, the pair made their way back to the halflings’ wagon train. Calling for a halt, they related what they had found to Gareth and the others. Although several cries went up to fight their way through, it was decided that stealth and subterfuge would be wisest. The rangers in the camp pored over their maps, finding a tiny fork in the road before the hobgoblin camp. Several scouts were sent ahead and were able to confirm that the wagons would just be able to make it through. Preparations were made to move the caravan off the main road and safely around the monsters.
Three musicians and four warriors - Gareth included - were chosen to accompany Cobweb to the hobgoblin camp. Grudgingly, the men covered their leather and chain armor with the bright colors of minstrels. Cobweb herself retreated to the Littlefoot tent to patch together a costume with Rosemary. Others from the camp decorated the smallest wagon with paper flowers and streamers, piling it high with choice cuts of meat and casks of wine.
With all the preparations complete, the young drow woman finally emerged. She was draped head to toe in a deep red cloak, and was blushing as fiercely as her dark complexion would allow. “Let’s go do this,” is all she would mutter.
The minstrel’s cart set off first, everyone else waiting until it was well out of sight before heading to the hidden fork. Cobweb stared straight ahead, fierce determination burning in her eyes. As they approached the hobgoblins’ camp, her jaw clenched briefly. She took a deep breath, chanting a spell of sonic enhancement as she stood up beside the driver.
“Well met my friends ” Her amplified voice echoed across the clearing, a strange sound from her small frame. Before the startled hobgoblins could react, the cart had pulled into the camp and the red-cloaked drow had dropped down among them. Cobweb danced between the edgy creatures, weaving a spell of fascination into her sing-song banter. “We are but traveling minstrels, here to provide entertainment and succor to great warriors such as yourselves.” It was clear that few of the hobgoblins understood all her words, but her soothing voice soon relaxed them. Almost as one, they seated themselves once more, interested to see what came next.
Once sure she had their full attention, Cobweb jumped lightly onto a tree stump and threw back the hood of her cloak. Even her halfling companions - busy unloading the wagon - stopped to stare. Rosemary had done an incredible job. With bright red stain on her lips, kohl lining her eyes and her stark white hair floating unbound around her face, Cobweb appeared more fae than ever.
Smiling wickedly, showing off slightly pointed teeth, Cobweb nodded to the waiting musicians. The three glanced at one another nervously, then launched into the fiercest piece they knew. With a shout, the drow began to dance. Throwing her arms above her head, she spun in tight circles. Her cloak billowed around her, revealing her finely turned ankles adorned with bells.
Cobweb continued smiling as she danced, trying not to notice the ill-concealed hunger and lust on the faces of her audience. Flipping her hair over one shoulder, she unclasped her cloak and let it fly into the eager crowd. She paused mid-spin, allowing the creatures a full view of her slim frame.
Her white kerchief skirt fell to her ankles in the back, but barely reached the middle of her thighs in front. Although she wasn’t yet winded, Cobweb allowed her breathing to deepen, feeling the fabric of her halter tighten across her chest. She glanced quickly at the disguised halfling warriors. They carefully avoided her gaze, intent on rolling the casks out of the cart.
The party continued well into the night. Music flowed non-stop, second only to the wine consumed by the hobgoblins. The four warriors did what they could, performing tricks with throwing daggers and using basic sparring moves as comedy routines. Through it all, Cobweb wove her glamour. She worked her way through the camp, encouraging another drink here, singing a lullaby there. Each time one of the creatures tried to touch her, she would skip away, chiding and teasing. Had any of the hobgoblins looked in her eyes, however, they would have seen pure loathing.
Just as she thought it would never end, the first of the camp started to fall asleep. Full and drunk, most of the creatures simply laid down and began snoring. Cobweb gave a genuine smile
then, remembering her first meeting at the halfling camp. The musicians played more and more quietly, until the only sound was the harsh snores of the sleeping hobgoblins. With great care, Cobweb, Gareth and their companions gathered their belongings. Retrieving her discarded cloak, Cobweb felt for the reassuring shapes of her daggers concealed in the lining. She glared around the camp, wondering if she could get away with a dagger or two between their filthy ribs.
Gareth apparently read the look in her eyes, because he appeared at her side and took Cobweb’s cloak from her. “Child, we have done our part. Now is not the time for rash action, ye hear me?” he stood on an empty cask and tenderly draped the heavy fabric over the drow’s shoulders. She began to shake then, her anger and tension draining at Gareth’s words.
You’re right,” she murmured. “It’s over, let’s return to the others.” the old warrior nodded and made his way to the wagon, trusting Cobweb to follow. She took a moment to fasten her cloak, still entertaining thoughts of murdering the whole drunken lot, then began to follow. Heavy footsteps behind her caused the drow to pause, then turn quickly in a fighter’s crouch. Sharp, narrow-bladed daggers had found their way into both her hands.
Towering above her was a massive hobgoblin. He was cleaner than any of the others, well-dressed and groomed, not to mention obviously more intelligent. The creature snarled down at Cobweb before clearing his throat and speaking in perfect Common. “I would drop those if I were you. My men would be very angry if I had to wake them now.” Casting a furtive glance at her friends, Cobweb made a desperate lunge for the hobgoblin’s throat. With exaggerated ease, he caught the drow by both wrists, easily twisting them out and forcing her to drop her weapons.
Before she could cry out, the monster spun her around, transferring both wrists to one massive hand and clamping the other over her mouth. He may have been cleaner than most, but the strong, musky scent of his hand nearly made Cobweb gag. “Hush girl, if you want your friends to live.” At that thought, Cobweb stopped struggling.
The hobgoblin grinned, “Much better. I like your spirit, but I prefer your obedience.” He moved his left hand, still gripping her wrists, to her stomach. Gareth and the other halflings could only watch helplessly as the revolting creature pulled Cobweb’s small frame tight against himself. They realized that any move on their part, and he could easily break her spine.
“Now then,” he continued, “We all know you’re not really minstrels. I don’t know what brought you to my camp and I don’t really care.” Leaning down to smell her hair, the beast seemed to enjoy the shudder of horror that wracked Cobweb’s body. “My terms are simple. You seven leave my camp now, the dark elf stays with me. Ignore me, you all die and I keep her anyway.”
Cobweb made frantic movements with her eyes and fingertips, willing Gareth to understand. Just go, she pleaded silently. Go and help the others. Slowly, with great sadness, Gareth spoke, “Come along boys.” He held up one hand, stalling the protests he knew were on their lips. “I said we go. Now.” He looked directly into Cobweb’s eyes and nodded just once. “Fare thee well, little one.” With that, he bullied the others into the wagon and rode off to find the rest of the caravan.

[Gwynnion]

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Part Four

With a great crash of cymbals, the music ended. Sweat dripped from Cobweb’s forehead and shoulders. The dance had been frantic and she was actually panting. The trio of dancers took their bows, exhausted.
Backstage, the drow collapsed on the floor. Rosemary and the other halflings simply stepped over and around her. Having watched her performances for so many years, they were used to her little rituals. Cobweb carefully pulled the pins and clips from her hair, then rolled onto her side and tucked her knees up to her chest. She closed her eyes and let her mind wander.

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Once he was satisfied the halflings really had gone, the humongous hobgoblin drug Cobweb across the camp. She looked around frantically, trying to see any route of escape. All too quickly, she found herself being thrown onto a pile of rugs and pelts under the leader’s lean-to. The structure wasn’t large, and the hobgoblin’s broad shoulders easily blocked her in. He reached above his head and grasped the overhang with both hands, stretching in an obvious display of power.
“Well well, what do I do with my new dark elf? I think I would like t-huurk ” His statement was cut off by the barbed arrow that had sprouted from his throat. The creature looked down in surprise at the nearly black blood flowing down his chest. He half turned to look out at the camp and the woods beyond, when a second arrow buried itself in his ribs. A third quickly followed, finding its mark in the monster’s chest and dropping him for good.
Nervously, Cobweb crawled forward to inspect the body. Her would-be attacker was most certainly dead. The drow visibly relaxed when she got a good look at the arrows, standing up and running a trained eye across the treeline. A slight movement to one side made her smile. Cobweb drew her cloak tight around her slim frame and stalked out of the camp, pausing only to relieve the dead hobgoblin of his heavy purse.
Within moments, Cobweb reached the woods, appearing silently beside her halfling savior. “Crippler,” she murmured, “your father will kill me if he finds out you came here.” Never missing a beat, her friend smiled, “Who do ye think suggested I follow ye here to begin with?”
Cobweb nearly choked trying to stifle her sudden fit of giggles. Her companion stared at her in disbelief. “All this stress must be gettin to ye, girl. Come along, the others probably made camp by now... we’ll be lucky if we get any breakfast.”
Still giggling quietly to herself, the drow followed her friend through the trees. They reached the halfling camp, and the walls of Stormreach, as the sun came up. Cobweb stopped dead in her tracks. In all her years, she had never seen a city so large. Gareth stepped out of his tent, looking not at all surprised to see the pair. He allowed his son a brief smile, then turned his attention to getting everything packed away. In stark contrast to her husband, Rosemary burst out of the Littlefoot tent, attempting to corral both her errant children in one hug.
“Don’t ye ever put yerselves in danger like that again, ye hear me?” Cobweb smiled down at her friend. Being nearly the same height as his mother, Crippler was bearing the brunt of bother her harsh words and her kisses. Gently prying the woman’s hands from her waist, Cobweb started to excuse herself, but noticed the pleading look in Crippler’s eyes.
She stifled a laugh, but decided she owed him one. “Ma Rose,” she whined, “I think those nasty hobgoblins hurt me...” Rosemary immediately broke off the assault on her son, instead hustling the drow to the cleric’s wagon. Cobweb looked over her shoulder to see her friend mouth a silent ‘thank you’. She stuck her tongue out at him in response.
The entire camp moved into the city that day, most finding temporary lodgings in the harbor area. Hardly a month had passed before tragedy struck Cobweb and her adoptive family.
Gareth had taken a position with the Denieth clan, training young warriors in forest combat. As an outsider in the city, he met with resistance to his appointment from the very beginning. Several times he returned to his family’s small rented room with bruises and cuts inconsistent with sparring. One night, Cobweb insisted that she had seen a black-clad man follow her adoptive father nearly to the front door, but Gareth dismissed it as just paranoia from being somewhere new.
Although the situation was becoming more tense, no one was prepared when the attack finally did come. One rainy night, Gareth simply didn’t come home. Rosemary refused to let her children go out to look for him. His body was found the next morning, beaten almost beyond recognition. The Denieth insignia he wore on his cloak had been torn in half - a clear message to the city authorities that this was a House matter.
Every day in the city reminded Cobweb of her loss, but she could hardly imagine being anywhere else. Following Gareth’s murder, she left the Littlefoot home for a time, studying under some of Stormreach’s better-known thugs and rogues. Revenge crossed her mind more than once, but ultimately she couldn’t do it. Somehow, she was sure Gareth wouldn’t approve. Instead, she moved on to a higher caliber of friends - never quite losing her underworld connections, of course - and threw herself back into her music.
Several of the musicians from the original camp of refugees had stayed in the city. They had set up regular concerts and shows all over Stormreach, and eagerly welcomed Cobweb back into the troupe.

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Cobweb laid on the floor for what seemed like hours before rosemary moved toward her, coughing quietly so she wouldn’t startle the girl. “Poppet?” The halfling’s voice was high but quiet. “Some men are asking to see ye before you go back on... shall I let them back here?” Cobweb forcibly drug her mind back from its wanderings, sitting up and pulling a nearby blanket over herself in one fluid motion. “Mmm? Oh, sure. Who is it?”
Before rosemary could answer, the two men themselves had stepped around the thin dividing screen. One of the pair, a tall human, stepped forward, leaning down to grab Cobweb’s hands. “Wow You were amazing That part where you did all the spins? Beautiful ” Cobweb giggled and reached up to rub the man’s shaved head in greeting. “Thanks Riddic. Glad you could make it.”
“We nearly didn’t.” It was the second man speaking now, a thin drow dressed in all in greys and black. “Riddic,” he continued, “could we please just deliver the message and get out of here?”
Cobweb stood, moving the dividing screen to she could change with some degree of privacy. “What message? Did we get a job?” Riddic gave up trying to see over the screen after a receiving a discouraging look from his drow companion. Sighing, he took a seat across the room and began outlining what had occurred that evening. The drow woman listened quietly, sometimes nodding to herself as she went about changing costumes. She finished about the same time as her friend’s story.
Stepping from behind the screen, Cobweb paused to fix her hair back with a simple leather band. Her costume was also more simple this time, a comfortable sueded leather dress, lightly embossed with a pattern of stars. Although she looked utterly soft and feminine, a trained eye could make out the faint outlined of concealed weaponry. She smiled at the two men. “So, basically, what you’re saying is that Lhite agreed to this job, but now his face is too well-known to pull it off? And now he wants us to do it?”
Riddic pouted. With her paraphrasing, Cobweb had neatly sidestepped all the parts of his story that made him look good. “Um, yeah, basically,” he mumbled. Laughing, Cobweb danced over to her friend and lightly kissed the top of his head. “I’d be happy to help.” The near silent drow in the corner rolled his eyes at the blush creeping up his human companion’s head. He glared at Cobweb with ill-disguised contempt.
“I have no idea why Master Lhite requested you, but he was very insistent.” The young woman laughed again, playfully blowing the other drow a kiss. He snarled, “Just don’t screw this up, girl.” before turning on his heel and stalking from the room. Rosemary stepped aside just in time to avoid being bowled over. “You’re on again, dear.” she said.
Cobweb nodded to her friend. “Count me in. I’ll meet you at the usual place tomorrow.” With a flip of her skirts, the drow picked up her lute and took the stage once more.

[Ratt]

A very nice story, very nice indeed. Well written and thought out.

/salute

p.s. Tell the truth, you would have loved to have been the Hobgolin's pet... d**n Crippler... ;D