| The Willow Sourcebook |
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Sorsha's earliest memory is of happiness. The circumstances are vague; she remembers only a bearded face bearing an expression of sadness, the warmth of a lap. She believes the memory is of her father; but, if so, it is her only memory of him. When Bavmorda abandoned Tir Asleen and imprisoned its inhabitants in crystal and in time, she brought her child with her to Nockmaar Castle. Sorsha's memory of happiness is important to her; there have been few enough such moments in her life. HER FIRST LESSON On the day Sorsha turned five, Bavmorda gave her a test. The queen sat her child on the floor between a jeweled ceremonial dagger and an orb of pure crystal. "Choose," said Bavmorda. The child looked at both, stood up unsteadily, and wobbled over to pick up the dagger. "Wrong, wrong, wrong!" shouted Bavmorda, snatching away the weapon. "Glitter and gold are for magpies. For the true magician, purity and power." With a word, she called the crystal globe into her outstretched hand. The sphere glowed brightly. Bavmorda told her frightened daughter, "You must do better to follow my path." She fastened both dagger and crystal over Sorsha's bed. "Let this be a memento of your first lesson," said the mother. Knowing the queen's temper, no servant dared befriend the girl. Everywhere in Nockmaar, Sorsha was treated like a princess, nowhere like a friend. In the giant castle she had just one companion: a mangy kitchen tomcat with one lopping ear, a cat therefore known as Lop. Sorsha hoarded scraps from her meager dinners, fed them to Lop by hand, even crept from her bed at night to visit Lop in the scullery. She guarded her secret from Bavmorda with the fearful zeal of any child hiding something from her parents. Meanwhile, her tests in magic continued - purifications, chants, meditation, endless exercises - all with the same disappointing results. "You are to be my aide, my successor, the heiress to my power, Sorsha," Bavmorda often said. "You must do better." But Sorsha never did better. Affinity for magic is a rare gift, and not always inherited. The girl cried herself to sleep almost every night, and only Lop lent a kind (if drooping) ear to her problems. "I don't know how I'd get by without you, Lop," she told the cat. She had no idea that at that moment Bavmorda stood over a rune-encrusted cistern deep beneath the castle. The queen saw Sorsha and heard every word she said. For her next test Sorsha was led to a chamber she had never seen before, one with hot stone floors and a copper dome with exposed blackwood beams. Steam filled the room, lit from below by hidden flames. "I have prepared a wand for you," said Bavmorda pleasantly. "Hold it so, clear your mind, and speak these words." The sorceress-queen told Sorsha the incantation. Sorsha pointed the wand, spoke the words, and a blinding flash appeared at the wand's end! Smells of ozone and phosphorus filled the air as, with a flare of white sparks, ball lightning leaped from the wand-tip and streaked forward, to explode against the far wall. Sorsha gasped but didn't drop the wand. "Nothing to fear," said Bavmorda. "Did you enjoy that?" The girl caught her breath. "Yes!" she said, surprised. At Bavmorda's instruction she threw two more barrages. With the first she stared in fascination, and with the second she giggled. "Well done," said her mother. "You sharpen your sense of greater forces. Now shut your eyes and try to feel every motion of the air in this chamber. Extend your awareness. See this room in your mind, from every angle, as a magician does." Sorsha stood quietly, eyes shut. Then she said, "There's something else here. Crawling along the dome wall. "Good. You will help with pest control in the castle, my dear. I had the servants capture a few rats from the pantry and loose them here. Point the wand and speak the words." Sorsha could see nothing through the billowing steam. Yet she felt something... With a word she fired a ball of lightning, and in the steam a rat squealed loudly. "You found it!" cried Bavmorda. "There are more. Try to sense another one." After long moments Sorsha turned and fired again. Another rat's squeal rose and broke off. She laughed, thinking this must be how magicians feel. Lives in their hands, going on until they speak a word. I could do anything I want, she thought. Thinking she heard a scratching noise near the wall, she turned and fired on the instant. The lightning shot through the steam and she heard a hideous shriek, almost human in its sound. She would hear it in her nightmares for years. She ran to the sound. There on the floor lay the scorched remains of Lop the cat. Behind Sorsha, Bavmorda said quietly, "You must have no one but me, no path to follow but mine." A long silent moment. Then Sorsha screamed, "You did this!" "Not at all. You held the wand. You will learn to do this to anyone, at any time, for any reason or no reason. That is the path of power." Tears in her eyes, Sorsha raised the wand and pointed it straight at Bavmorda. But the queen murmured a single word, and the wand flew out of her daughter's hand into her own. "That too is good," the queen said in a brittle voice. "You do better. Now return to your bedchamber until the next test." Sorsha ran to her room, but not for long. When Queen Bavmorda returned to her own chambers later that day, she found the ornamental dagger and crystal sphere from over Sorsha's bed. The dagger had plunged straight through the sphere, shattering it; the weapon itself was bent but not broken. Sorsha never again tried to learn anything of magic. So Bavmorda received her first lesson about Sorsha. LIBERTY Nockmaar Castle lies high in the mountain peaks above the headwaters of the river Troon. The land about it is stark and lifeless, blasted by the magic energies summoned and dissipated in such profusion by Queen Bavmorda. Yet only a few leagues away, the mountains turn wild, bone-chillingly cold in winter, bursting with exuberant life in the summer. Sheep flock the lower mountain slopes; clear streams tumble down to the lowlands below. A permanent military garrison is stationed in the castle; the stables are magnificent, and some of Nockmaar's finest mounts are to be found there. Virtually from the time she could mount a pony, Sorsha took to riding as if she were a daughter of the Eastern tribes. She loved the feel of the wind on her face. She loved to ride as fast as her mount could carry her. She rode the mountain pastures, taught horses to jump streams, learned the use of the currycomb, and what tidbits titillate a horse's palate. Bavmorda raged at Sorsha, demanded that she return to her lessons, insisted that she spend less time away from the castle. Sorsha listened, then turned and walked to the stables. Bavmorda fumed, but would not inflict on her daughter the indignities with which she punished others who disappointed her. As she grew older, Sorsha went on longer and longer trips, sometimes disappearing for days at a time, camping in the wilderness. She taught herself to hunt with a bow, and lived off the land. She rode as far as Carathor, nearly to the boundaries of Nockmaar's conquests, but steered clear of cities and habitation. She learned to move as silently as deer, and remain unseen when she chose. When she was fifteen, she entered the courtyard of the garrison's encampment, where soldiers drilled, chanted their oaths of loyalty to the army, and sparred with one another. One by one, the soldiers fell quiet as she walked to the center of the courtyard. "I would learn to use a sword," she said. The soldiers stood, eyes averted from their princess. None moved or spoke. Until one brave lieutenant, Fennel by name, straightened his mustache, cleared his throat, and approached. "'Tis no fit occupation for a young lass," he said. Sorsha stared him up and down. "And yet I would learn." Fennel bobbed his head. "As my princess commands." GIVE ME A SWORD, AND I'LL WIN THIS WAR FOR YOU Fennel taught her. They sweated through exercises in the courtyard, hacked stumps to pieces. At first he was formal, distant, reluctant to step too close to her as he taught. But in a passage of arms, there is no room for distance. He became more familiar, posing her with a touch on the arm to show her the proper stance, throwing her to the ground in the heat of a tussle. She suffered bruises when a practice sword struck, and did her best to bruise him back. She never complained, nor did she ever miss a lesson. Sometimes they rode out together, in the cool air of a mountain summer. Fennel marvelled at her skill on horseback, and demanded she teach him in turn. Sorsha laughed, and agreed. It was months before Bavmorda learned of her daughter's lessons in the garrison encampment; no one dared tell her. She learned of them only by accident, when scrying in a pool of water with her druids. Bavmorda was horrified. Sorsha thrust and steel rang. Her braided hair was tied back; she panted slightly. Fennel stepped sideways, caught her blade with his, and threw her off her feet. "Don't watch my sword," he told her, "watch my arm. Its motion foretells that of the blade." A roar sounded from the sky. Soldiers scattered as Bavmorda landed in the courtyard's center, flame billowing around her. "What," said Bavmorda. "Are. You. Doing?" The courtyard emptied. Fennel turned white and backed rapidly toward the nearest entrance, bowing repeatedly. No one care to witness Bavmorda's confrontation with her daughter. "Learning," said Sorsha, "to use a sword." Bavmorda flung wide her hand, and Sorsha's sword flew across the yard to clang against a wall. Bavmorda drew herself up in rage - and then seemed to reconsider. A long moment passed. Finally, Bavmorda said, "If you are not to learn magic, you may as well do something useful. Fine, Sorsha. Learn to use a sword. Learn to use all the weapons of war. Learn well; if you do not fail me in this, perhaps one day you will lead my armies to victory." Sorsha made no comment. With a clap of thunder, Bavmorda disappeared. BAVMORDA'S REVENGE "What is your name, creature?" asked Bavmorda. Fennel clung to the cold stone flags of the floor, shaking in terror. "Fennel, Highness," he gasped. "You are my daughter's teacher?" Fennel broke into a cold sweat. "Yes, Highness." Bavmorda spoke softly. "Do you... care for my daughter, Fennel?" Fennel dared a glimpse of the queen. How should he respond? The wrong answer could mean death. "Somewhat, Highness." Bavmorda stared at him for a long moment. "How did you come to instruct her?" she hissed. "She... she entered the courtyard, and said she wished to learn to fight." "And you offered to teach her?" "She seemed to expect it. I took it as a royal command. I'm sorry if I displeased you. I meant well--" "Meant well? Meant well?" she screamed, then got a hold of herself. "Listen to me, worm," she hissed. "I do not mean well. I mean to scourge the world of cowards like you." She gestured. Fennel transformed, at first with screams and later only with indecipherable high-pitched whines, into a giant, sluglike worm, a pallid cylinder of lumpish flesh. The creature writhed on Nockmaar's flags, then rose, passed through a window, and plunged to the ground below. Bavmorda smiled in satisfaction. It is bad to bottle up one's anger, she told herself. It is always best to express one's frustration. A PASSAGE AT ARMS "I am here to instruct you," said the lieutenant. "Where is Fennel?" asked Sorsha. "I am here to instruct you," he repeated, refusing to meet her eyes. "I... see," said Sorsha. There was no point in demanding an answer from her mother. Fennel might be dead, he might now be stationed at a post far away in the icy northern wastes. Her mother had taken her revenge. She attacked the lieutenant with a fury. He was forced back by her attack, then began to rally. Weapons clashing, they fought across the courtyard. She felt a hardness within her throat, but she would not cry. She had not cried in many years. Not a hundred yards away, the creature that had been Fennel tunneled through the mud. SORSHA AND THE SEARCH FOR ELORA DANAN By the time Willow left his village, Sorsha was second only to Kael in the Army of Nockmaar. She led the search for Elora Danan, and learned that the Nelwyns had sheltered the child. At the tavern, she nearly captured the baby, but the rogue swordsman, Madmartigan, took off with the baby on a wagon, along with a Peck. Sorsha's soldiers were unable to capture him. Later on, though, she captured the Galladoornian. Although he wouldn't reveal the location of Elora or the Peck, her men found the pair anyway. She found Madmartigan hard to ignore in captivity. Madmartigan is often hard to ignore. She wasn't attracted to him - quite the reverse - but she had to admire his defiance. When Madmartigan entered her tent and, under the influence of the Dust of Broken Heart, told Sorsha he loved her, she was curiously moved. But Madmartigan's claim was merely a ruse to cover Willow's theft of the baby - or was it? In a rage, she pursued, and found, the three of them, along with the remnants of the Army of Galladoorn in a villager's bolt hole. There, Madmartigan took her prisoner, and holding her hostage, escaped once again to flee toward Tir Asleen. In the canyon maze, with Kael hot on their trail, Sorsha broke from Madmartigan's grasp and rejoined her army. But within, she was in turmoil She'd seen the bravery and honor of the men of Galladoorn. She knew the conditions under which her own men lived. She had seen, and been sickened by, the results of her mother's wrath. She knew what Bavmorda had in mind for the baby. And she had looked in Elora Danan's eyes. Her loyalty was to the land of Nockmaar - but what did that mean? Service to her mother? Or, she thought, glancing at Kael as he galloped alongside her, service to that monster? At Tir Asleen, she saw Madmartigan's courage, and his devotion to his friend. She joined him. She has never regretted her decision. GAMING NOTES 14th skill-level fighter (or the same level as your campaign's best fighter) SKILLS Sorsha is a brilliant archer and horsewoman, and skilled with knives and swords. Treat any bow as a magical +2 bow when she uses, and any sword as +1 to hit. She has some skill with a crossbow. She has no magical knowledge, and refuses to learn any. EQUIPMENT Sword, bow, quiver of arrows, chain or light plate armor, dagger. Saddle and tack. Camping supplies as appropriate. |
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