![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
Kolarven's Cousin fic
Jun. 27th, 2025 05:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
senmutFinding a Cousin (1181 words) by Sharpest_Asp
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Forgotten Realms
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Original Half-Elf Character(s), Original Tiefling Character(s)
Additional Tags: Original Character(s) - Freeform, Family
Summary:
Draeden was actually impressed with the lack of attention given to him as he sauntered into Silverymoon to seek further opportunities. He completely understood why the most recent group had opted to go their own ways — humans and death-scares and all that — but it left him loose in the coin pouch to wander solely on his own.
His pale red skin and the twisting horns made it obvious he was of an often mistrusted species, and yet the squire had smiled and the two veteran guards had just nodded for him to proceed. Perhaps Silverymoon's reputation was warranted, or maybe they'd seen enough tieflings to know the odium was full of lies. It wasn't like he was a drow or something truly evil.
An inn called the Rusty Blade was recommended from one of his now former comrades, and that was where he took himself to. It was the kind of place that ran a tavern on the main floor, with rooms above and below, as they catered to all races… and dwarves could be odd about sleeping above ground at times. He paid up front for a room for three nights, hired a bath, and asked after meal time.
If he didn't find a band in three days needing a man of his skills, he'd move on to Everlund. It was rumored Harpers were in and out of that city, and where Harpers were, adventure (and profit) waited.
Until the meal, though, he planned to soak the last week out of his skin, polish his horns, oil his chafing tail, and generally be a pampered tiefling as best he could do without a suitable companion to aid him.
The meal was good, Draeden decided, if a bit higher on root-vegetables than he normally went for. The high number of elves present in the city probably influenced more vegetation being eaten. The bard was passable, playing rather than singing, and no doubt catching whispers of conversation to use as fodder.
Then the music was drowned out as the door opened and a striking half-elf in skirts, sword belt, and a tunic that looked like it cost a lordling's seasonal tax walked in to great acclaim from the regulars.
"Saer Kolarven, do you have the word of the skirmish for us?" the bard called out over the hearty greetings and cheers.
"Indeed, but can a poor servant of the city gain stew and ale before I set my tongue to wagging for you all?" the fighter said, voice not doing anything more than the mix of clothes did to settle a gender for Draeden. He was already writing the person off as an unlikely lead on adventures, hearing that quip, but something dragged his attention back, studying more closely.
Detail by detail, Draeden flicked through the clothing, the cut of hair and style of braids, the weapons, then the jewelry his keen eyes could make out —
— the teardrop dangling earring on one side. The glint and faceting was something native to Draeden's own family region, a particular way of working common stones into something pretty. It was an inexpensive bauble, so was out of place against the rest of Kolarven's garb.
When Kolarven finished eating the stew and theatrically took a massive drink of ale, Draeden caught the ripple of amusement that indicated this was common for the Knight. Listening to the pattern of speech, the inflections, all said 'elf-raised', but Draeden couldn't stop thinking that earring had significance.
He shifted at his table, raising his own mug in cheers to the final words of the tale of ending an orc raid, and made eye-contact, using every trick of his presence to make the Knight notice him. When Kolarven started moving through the people, gripping shoulders and quipping a few words with those they knew, Draeden saw the passage was aimed at his table, and half-smiled.
"Always up for new people catching my eye," Kolarven said as they dropped onto the bench beside Draeden.
"Well-met, saer," Draeden said in a friendly voice. "Draeden. Couldn't help but admire your myrrhina stone, as that style of working is from my family's region."
Kolarven reached up to touch the earring, eyes widening. "Might you know many of the families of that region?" they asked, reaching for casual and falling short. "Always meant to wander that way, but duty called me here."
"And why would you wander in that direction? Naught but farmers and stone-work," Draeden said. "One reason I venture out so far from there.
"But yes, I know most of the families, as there aren't many that don't tie back to mine in some way. On my mother's side, anyway."
Kolarven waved for a refill, for them both, and settled more on the bench. Prying ears and eyes turned away at some shift of the posture, and Draeden decided he could get used to a city that knew when to mind its own business.
"It was said that my father was from there, a man that adventured, and had unfinished business when his wounds had healed under my mother's care," Kolarven said, reciting a tale told to them no doubt. "A pair of these myrrhina stones were given to her, and when I came of age, she gave one to me."
"Know you his name?" Draeden asked, even as he felt a prickle of kinship. His own mother had been a wanderer and that was how she'd wooed a tiefling for his father. It seemed to run in the blood, to seek adventure and those least like themselves.
"He gave it as Thom of Hemslon, from that region, to her."
"Then we are kin, for Thom was my own mother's cousin," Draeden said, amused. "Fate steered me well, to know I have a gifted fighter for cousin in these lands."
"You say 'was' and while I know he was human — " Kolarven searched Draeden's face, and sighed at what was there.
"The unfinished business for a family matter, and another cousin dug the grave," Draeden said in sympathy. "He'd mentioned an elf lass, but the family did not know where."
Kolarven bowed their head a moment, then looked up with resolution at knowing. "At least I know then that he did mean to return but could not."
"That would be truth, for none of Hemslon let family be left behind, when it is known," Draeden promised. "I've sent two of my own children and their mothers back to have lives there. No doubt, they'll wander as I have, once they tire of soil and rock."
Kolarven laughed brightly at that. "I've none of my own, but should I meet yours, I'll treat them well, for we are family!"
Draeden raised his mug to that, and they both drank deeply.
"What brings you here?" Kolarven asked after.
"Looking for new adventures, and people to share them," Draeden answered honestly.
"Then I will have to introduce you to some of my friends… and hope you come here from time to time and share the tales!"
"I think, cousin, I will enjoy making Silverymoon a frequent resting place."
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Forgotten Realms
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Original Half-Elf Character(s), Original Tiefling Character(s)
Additional Tags: Original Character(s) - Freeform, Family
Summary:
Draeden's a wandering tiefling, and is looking for a new adventuring party. What he finds is family.
Finding a Cousin
Draeden was actually impressed with the lack of attention given to him as he sauntered into Silverymoon to seek further opportunities. He completely understood why the most recent group had opted to go their own ways — humans and death-scares and all that — but it left him loose in the coin pouch to wander solely on his own.
His pale red skin and the twisting horns made it obvious he was of an often mistrusted species, and yet the squire had smiled and the two veteran guards had just nodded for him to proceed. Perhaps Silverymoon's reputation was warranted, or maybe they'd seen enough tieflings to know the odium was full of lies. It wasn't like he was a drow or something truly evil.
An inn called the Rusty Blade was recommended from one of his now former comrades, and that was where he took himself to. It was the kind of place that ran a tavern on the main floor, with rooms above and below, as they catered to all races… and dwarves could be odd about sleeping above ground at times. He paid up front for a room for three nights, hired a bath, and asked after meal time.
If he didn't find a band in three days needing a man of his skills, he'd move on to Everlund. It was rumored Harpers were in and out of that city, and where Harpers were, adventure (and profit) waited.
Until the meal, though, he planned to soak the last week out of his skin, polish his horns, oil his chafing tail, and generally be a pampered tiefling as best he could do without a suitable companion to aid him.
The meal was good, Draeden decided, if a bit higher on root-vegetables than he normally went for. The high number of elves present in the city probably influenced more vegetation being eaten. The bard was passable, playing rather than singing, and no doubt catching whispers of conversation to use as fodder.
Then the music was drowned out as the door opened and a striking half-elf in skirts, sword belt, and a tunic that looked like it cost a lordling's seasonal tax walked in to great acclaim from the regulars.
"Saer Kolarven, do you have the word of the skirmish for us?" the bard called out over the hearty greetings and cheers.
"Indeed, but can a poor servant of the city gain stew and ale before I set my tongue to wagging for you all?" the fighter said, voice not doing anything more than the mix of clothes did to settle a gender for Draeden. He was already writing the person off as an unlikely lead on adventures, hearing that quip, but something dragged his attention back, studying more closely.
Detail by detail, Draeden flicked through the clothing, the cut of hair and style of braids, the weapons, then the jewelry his keen eyes could make out —
— the teardrop dangling earring on one side. The glint and faceting was something native to Draeden's own family region, a particular way of working common stones into something pretty. It was an inexpensive bauble, so was out of place against the rest of Kolarven's garb.
When Kolarven finished eating the stew and theatrically took a massive drink of ale, Draeden caught the ripple of amusement that indicated this was common for the Knight. Listening to the pattern of speech, the inflections, all said 'elf-raised', but Draeden couldn't stop thinking that earring had significance.
He shifted at his table, raising his own mug in cheers to the final words of the tale of ending an orc raid, and made eye-contact, using every trick of his presence to make the Knight notice him. When Kolarven started moving through the people, gripping shoulders and quipping a few words with those they knew, Draeden saw the passage was aimed at his table, and half-smiled.
"Always up for new people catching my eye," Kolarven said as they dropped onto the bench beside Draeden.
"Well-met, saer," Draeden said in a friendly voice. "Draeden. Couldn't help but admire your myrrhina stone, as that style of working is from my family's region."
Kolarven reached up to touch the earring, eyes widening. "Might you know many of the families of that region?" they asked, reaching for casual and falling short. "Always meant to wander that way, but duty called me here."
"And why would you wander in that direction? Naught but farmers and stone-work," Draeden said. "One reason I venture out so far from there.
"But yes, I know most of the families, as there aren't many that don't tie back to mine in some way. On my mother's side, anyway."
Kolarven waved for a refill, for them both, and settled more on the bench. Prying ears and eyes turned away at some shift of the posture, and Draeden decided he could get used to a city that knew when to mind its own business.
"It was said that my father was from there, a man that adventured, and had unfinished business when his wounds had healed under my mother's care," Kolarven said, reciting a tale told to them no doubt. "A pair of these myrrhina stones were given to her, and when I came of age, she gave one to me."
"Know you his name?" Draeden asked, even as he felt a prickle of kinship. His own mother had been a wanderer and that was how she'd wooed a tiefling for his father. It seemed to run in the blood, to seek adventure and those least like themselves.
"He gave it as Thom of Hemslon, from that region, to her."
"Then we are kin, for Thom was my own mother's cousin," Draeden said, amused. "Fate steered me well, to know I have a gifted fighter for cousin in these lands."
"You say 'was' and while I know he was human — " Kolarven searched Draeden's face, and sighed at what was there.
"The unfinished business for a family matter, and another cousin dug the grave," Draeden said in sympathy. "He'd mentioned an elf lass, but the family did not know where."
Kolarven bowed their head a moment, then looked up with resolution at knowing. "At least I know then that he did mean to return but could not."
"That would be truth, for none of Hemslon let family be left behind, when it is known," Draeden promised. "I've sent two of my own children and their mothers back to have lives there. No doubt, they'll wander as I have, once they tire of soil and rock."
Kolarven laughed brightly at that. "I've none of my own, but should I meet yours, I'll treat them well, for we are family!"
Draeden raised his mug to that, and they both drank deeply.
"What brings you here?" Kolarven asked after.
"Looking for new adventures, and people to share them," Draeden answered honestly.
"Then I will have to introduce you to some of my friends… and hope you come here from time to time and share the tales!"
"I think, cousin, I will enjoy making Silverymoon a frequent resting place."
