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Description
This render was done in Daz, using the ACTaylor character from Digital Creations and the FG Tavern asset. Postwork was done in Affinity.

I also did another version of this in sepia - you will find it in my fantasy character elves section here: www.deviantart.com/hexdrake/ga…

Finally, I wrote a story that came to mind while working on the character.

Half-Measures at Best

Commander Sagemoon called me into his office – I assumed I had done something wrong, and he was going to chastise me in the none-too-gentle manner he had. Instead, he informed me I would be representing Lunar Division during a special mission that might determine the fate of Silverymoon itself. A smarter elf would have asked questions, but I’m only a half-elf, so I did not question the boon that had been given to me. I know he said several things, probably important things, about my mission, but I could only think of the ten years of hard work, ten years where I had to out-perform the elves around me, many of whom had been training my entire lifetime. My daydreaming was broken with –

“You will travel northeast a two-day by horseback and find the Half-Measure Inn. It is in the village of Korlakin. It is said Keyrel frequents the establishment, but our intelligence on this one is sadly lacking. You must convince her to travel to Silverymoon and meet with me. I have provided funds for necessary expenditures, and I expect a full accounting.”

He let out a deep sigh, and looked me in the eyes,

“Keyrel is a known drow conspirator and very, very dangerous. Under no circumstances are you to engage with her in any way other than to convince her to come to Silverymoon. Once in the city, negotiations will go far more smoothly. Lukian, it is time you earned your place among command in the Lunar Division, and if you succeed in this, the position of Junior Lieutenant is yours. You have one week. Good luck and may Corellon guide your path.”

I saluted and left. Junior lieutenant! I thought. It was all I could think about while I gathered my equipment at the barracks. Gone were the jibes and veiled references to my upbringing from the other soldiers as I did so. In fact, they seemed somewhat somber. I am almost asked if someone had died, but then realized I didn’t want anything bringing me down.

My next stop was the quartermaster to get the funds the commander spoke of. She was one of the few elves that treated me like an equal, perhaps due to the fact that she had a rather plain manner and didn’t have the ethereal quality so many of our kin possess. I think she was always keen on me – sometimes she snuck in a sweet or two in my rations.

After a bit of small talk, the quartermaster handed me a large pouch that weighed far more than it should and provisions. She then pressed a large roll laced with cinnamon and sugar into my hand and wished me good luck. I couldn’t believe my fortune, and if a better mood than when the commander assigned me this mission was possible, I had now achieved it. I noticed that there was something wrong with her as she wiped a tear away from her face. I told her to cheer up, the gods have a plan, and everything works out in the end. She gave me a pained smile and nod and went back to her job.

I made it out of Silverymoon before midday meal, the steed I was assigned was a dappled charger – a fine mare that would gain me a little time on my journey. With the gates and arcane shields behind me, I spurred my new mount Asterix to a gallop, trying to gain every minute I could to succeed in this mission.

A few hours later I my route took me overland. The terrain was wild, but I had patrolled this area many times for Many Arrows orcs and fouler things, and even participated in a few battles, though they were limited in scope. It had been years since a pitched battle had been fought here – not since the Waterdeep met her fate 30 years ago. I was just a child when the host of drow emerged from their caverns and made war against both Silverymoon and Mithril Hall behind the strength of Lolth herself. I am told many good people died that day in the fight for light, but in the end the drow were beaten back into the foul bowels of Toril.

The terrain didn’t improve by any measure over the next day and a half. It was a little unusual traveling alone; I have to admit I had grown used to Oloric and Olana Oakspirits’ teasing whenever we made camp. Despite the fact that they were supposed to take a more active role in making camp, they often shirked their duty, leaving the youngest person amongst us to carry the water, chop the wood, and do the rest of the heavy lifting. As the only half-elf in Lunar Division, that was always me.

As I came to the area this village of Korlakin was supposed to be on the map, I saw smoke rising above the horizon and followed the sweet smell of roasting meat the rest of the way. Breaking through the tree line, a ragged village was before me. Thirty or so dilapidated buildings and twice that number of impromptu camps were scattered before me. The only building of any significance was a large tavern which had a sign proclaiming to be my destination – the Half-Measure Inn.

Asterix and I wandered through the village, weaving our way around the campsites. The people stared at me evenly and did not offer greetings – apparently respect for the Silverymmon army and its role in protecting the realms did not extend to Korlakin. They seemed to be mostly humans, with a smattering of half-orcs and half-elves amongst them, which is typical for this area. They seemed to be awfully well-armed for ragtag hunters, but I had no trouble on my way and tied Asterix to a post and entered the Half-Measure Inn.

As I opened the door, I was greeted my raucous laughter and shouts, which drew my gaze to quite the spectacle. In one corner of the inn was a large combat ring, wherein a half-orc over six-feet tall faced off against a shorter, squatter opponent, while a crowd of ruffians – and more than a few with green or black tinges to their skin – called out jibes and advice to the combatants.

I was not interested in their fight, so I quickly turned and headed to the bar where a one-eyed half-elf with dirty blonde hair leaned on the counter, watching me approach.

I opened with,

“I am looking for Keyrel. Do you know where she is friend? Any information will be paid for with good coin.”

I slid two silvers across the counter towards him, which he watched avariciously with his one good eye. He then looked up at me and said,

“I’ll need two gold ones on top of those to provide any intel, good officer. No offense, but I won’t be making any friends helping a Silverymoon soldier find the queen bee around here.”

I feigned as if the loss of coin pained me, and then gave up the gold.

“You see that half-orc over there, fighting in the ring?”

I nodded.

“She’s her girlfriend. Well, one of them anyway – and the only one in Korlakin at the moment. She’ll know where Keyrel is.”

I looked amongst the crowd watching the fight, but I didn’t see any half-orc women amongst them. A few half-eleven prostitutes and a couple of half-eleven toughs. It is amazing how many half-humans are in here, I thought, and turned and said,

“Where is she? Point her out.”

He laughed as a ripping sound echoed though the inn and the smaller half-orc got a surprised look on his face as he held a good portion of his opponent’s shirt in his hands. The crowd fell silent, and the larger half-orc advanced on him. The smaller half-orc was begging for mercy, in Orcish no less. The larger one grabbed him – one hand on his collar, the other his crotch, and lifted him in the air for all to see as he went about in a slow circle. And that is when I noticed he was a she.

The scene before me was somehow incredibly stimulating. A muscled half-orc amazon with a sheen of sweat and the remnants of her shirt fallen around her belt, revealing a pair of exceptional breasts. My reverie was broken as she slammed him into the ground before her, and then kicked him in the balls.

It was not a half-kick by any means, and when it connected there was actually a squishing sound, accompanied by groans from the audience and her opponent receiving a small blessing as he passed out. She hopped over the railing of the fighting circle, her large breasts bouncing, and begin striding purposefully in my direction.

The barkeep said,

“That’s her. Coming right at you. I hope your luck is better than Barash’s. Well, that’s a twelve-victory string broken for him; I wonder if he’ll need a regenerate spell for that?”

She stepped up to the bar, demanded a drink, and downed it in less than a minute. She was amazing, as if somehow the gods sent their own muscled goddess down to us. I couldn’t help but gawk and wonder what temperament this woman would have in bed.

Her hand grabbed my chin roughly, steel in her grip, and she pulled my face to look her in the eyes, as apparently I had been looking at something else.

“Okay soldier elf. Whatcha here for? Not to have a drink with the rest of us, eh?”

Laughter rippled through the crowd, and I saw that they had followed her at a distance and were now between me and the exit. Rough faces that promised pain, even the prostitutes.

“I’m looking for Keyrel,” I managed to stutter out, “and the barkeep here says you’re her girl.”

She lifted me up by my face to look into her eyes. As my legs dangled above the ground I felt my anger rising, and the temptation to draw steel.

“Her favorite girl, soldier boy. Don’t you forget that. I’ll tell you where she is if you’ll explain something to me. Of all the elves in the Silverymoon army, why did they send a half-breed to the Half-Measure Inn to find a half-elf? Those elves to yellow to show their faces around here, so they sent a mutt?”

She dropped me unceremoniously and called for two more ales. She thrust one at me and motioned for me to drink. As the pain from her iron grip holding me aloft by the chin faded, it started to dawn on me why I was here. She gave me a tusky smile and said,

“Drink up mutt!” and clapped me on the shoulder, forcing me to spill some of my drink. “Pack of mongrels gotta take care of each other, no?”

I brought the flagon up to my face, trying not to make a face from the smell of the brew, and downed it as fast as she did hers, maybe even a little faster. As I wiped the foam from my lips she said,

“She is upstairs holding court. If you’re lucky, she’ll give you an audience, my lord. You did remember to bring a gift to court, didn’t ya?”

I shook my head yes and made my way through the crowd, receiving more than my fair share of jostles and bumps. Even though the roughed me up a bit, there was something in their eyes, their manner. Apparently if this half-orc amazon said you were one of them, you were in some weird way. And I guess I was then.

I mounted the stairs, looking down as I reached the summit. They were exchanging money and talking excitedly while the half-orc had spun to face the stairs and was working on her third ale.

“Come on then, step into the light boy. Let me see who the good commander Sagemoon sent.”

I turned to see a rough-looking half-elf woman wearing leather armor, or more accurate enchanted leather armor for it certainly would provide little protection as it were. Armed with a rapier and stiletto, as well as a stern look, nose ring, and plenty of earrings, she looked at me in mock satisfaction. Violet runes ran across one side of her face, fighting against the dull firelight of the torches in the hallway. Her cloak was etched with spiderweb designs – definitely drow make and the fact she was wearing it openly was a bit scary. Even more unsettling was the rapier, for the spider design on the hilt looked almost alive.

As my eyes no doubt bulged, I stuttered, “Those are illegal in the realms. You can’t carry those about.” As soon as I said it, I realized how stupid I sounded. She seemed to take it in stride, however.

“Is that so? If I am an adventurer, I’m entitled to keep the spoils of my raids on the Underdark, no?”

I nodded, that did make sense after all.

Her eyes turned hard and cold,

“I am no adventurer. I serve the dark elves I no small capacity, as it suits me. The cloak I wear was taken from the corpse of Imgos Noqusek, the most recent consort who disappointed ShriNeerune Hunzrin, newest high priestess of Menzoberranzan. This,” she held her rapier up and partially drew it, revealing a dark blade with a violet glow, “was my reward for tracking him down and dealing with him.”

“Make no mistake about it – I work for them – or anyone else who can meet my price and condones my methods. What about you, boy? Which dragon did you slay to achieve your position. More likely the best you’ve done is gut an overzealous orc warrior by accident.

Now tell me, and quickly, what brings you to my realm? And why shouldn’t I let my alpha girl twist you into knots? Or are you now realizing the elves sent you here because none of them could have made it to the bar to get a drink and still be alive.”

That is when the commander’s words came to me, or rather the realization that those words were spoken while I was daydreaming of the great deeds I’d accomplish. Then I remembered –

“He wants a meeting with you, in Silverymoon, to retain your services! You need but name your conditions and the place!”

“And did he bring a down payment? I can’t maintain all of this” she waved one hand around “without funding. The money boy, he sent you with money. If not, you’re dead. Maybe you’ll be dead either way.”

I went for the pouch of coin and tossed it to her in one motion. She caught it with one hand, her hand not bobbing an inch despite the twenty pounds of coin within.

She smiled thoughtfully and drew the stiletto. It’s dark blade gave no reflection – rather it seemed to absorb light. She got in my face, close enough to smell the stink of foul liquor on her breath. She slid the stiletto across my jaw, deciding on whether or not I was to live.

She flipped it in her hand and handed it to me hilt first.

“Tell him I’m game. Take this as proof. Tell him I will find him, and then we will have that little chat about how I can help the grand elves of Silverymoon. Why I might even drop in on High Lord Eythonna, or should I say dad?”

I don’t know why I ran; I just did. It was all too much. I’m just a damn soldier, I thought, I’m not cut out for this!

High Lord Eythonna is known for his virtuous devotion to Corellon and ensuring that the elves of Silverymoon never lost sight of Corellon’s radiance. Commander Sagemoon must have anticipated this, must have known of the relation. I felt like a chess piece, a pawn, being moved about the board, persons unseen using me in a battle of political savvy. I also felt screwed.

Description
This render was done in Daz, using the ACTaylor character from Digital Creations and the FG Tavern asset. Postwork was done in Affinity.

I also did another version of this in sepia - you will find it in my fantasy character elves section here: www.deviantart.com/hexdrake/ga…

Finally, I wrote a story that came to mind while working on the character.

Half-Measures at Best

Commander Sagemoon called me into his office – I assumed I had done something wrong, and he was going to chastise me in the none-too-gentle manner he had. Instead, he informed me I would be representing Lunar Division during a special mission that might determine the fate of Silverymoon itself. A smarter elf would have asked questions, but I’m only a half-elf, so I did not question the boon that had been given to me. I know he said several things, probably important things, about my mission, but I could only think of the ten years of hard work, ten years where I had to out-perform the elves around me, many of whom had been training my entire lifetime. My daydreaming was broken with –

“You will travel northeast a two-day by horseback and find the Half-Measure Inn. It is in the village of Korlakin. It is said Keyrel frequents the establishment, but our intelligence on this one is sadly lacking. You must convince her to travel to Silverymoon and meet with me. I have provided funds for necessary expenditures, and I expect a full accounting.”

He let out a deep sigh, and looked me in the eyes,

“Keyrel is a known drow conspirator and very, very dangerous. Under no circumstances are you to engage with her in any way other than to convince her to come to Silverymoon. Once in the city, negotiations will go far more smoothly. Lukian, it is time you earned your place among command in the Lunar Division, and if you succeed in this, the position of Junior Lieutenant is yours. You have one week. Good luck and may Corellon guide your path.”

I saluted and left. Junior lieutenant! I thought. It was all I could think about while I gathered my equipment at the barracks. Gone were the jibes and veiled references to my upbringing from the other soldiers as I did so. In fact, they seemed somewhat somber. I am almost asked if someone had died, but then realized I didn’t want anything bringing me down.

My next stop was the quartermaster to get the funds the commander spoke of. She was one of the few elves that treated me like an equal, perhaps due to the fact that she had a rather plain manner and didn’t have the ethereal quality so many of our kin possess. I think she was always keen on me – sometimes she snuck in a sweet or two in my rations.

After a bit of small talk, the quartermaster handed me a large pouch that weighed far more than it should and provisions. She then pressed a large roll laced with cinnamon and sugar into my hand and wished me good luck. I couldn’t believe my fortune, and if a better mood than when the commander assigned me this mission was possible, I had now achieved it. I noticed that there was something wrong with her as she wiped a tear away from her face. I told her to cheer up, the gods have a plan, and everything works out in the end. She gave me a pained smile and nod and went back to her job.

I made it out of Silverymoon before midday meal, the steed I was assigned was a dappled charger – a fine mare that would gain me a little time on my journey. With the gates and arcane shields behind me, I spurred my new mount Asterix to a gallop, trying to gain every minute I could to succeed in this mission.

A few hours later I my route took me overland. The terrain was wild, but I had patrolled this area many times for Many Arrows orcs and fouler things, and even participated in a few battles, though they were limited in scope. It had been years since a pitched battle had been fought here – not since the Waterdeep met her fate 30 years ago. I was just a child when the host of drow emerged from their caverns and made war against both Silverymoon and Mithril Hall behind the strength of Lolth herself. I am told many good people died that day in the fight for light, but in the end the drow were beaten back into the foul bowels of Toril.

The terrain didn’t improve by any measure over the next day and a half. It was a little unusual traveling alone; I have to admit I had grown used to Oloric and Olana Oakspirits’ teasing whenever we made camp. Despite the fact that they were supposed to take a more active role in making camp, they often shirked their duty, leaving the youngest person amongst us to carry the water, chop the wood, and do the rest of the heavy lifting. As the only half-elf in Lunar Division, that was always me.

As I came to the area this village of Korlakin was supposed to be on the map, I saw smoke rising above the horizon and followed the sweet smell of roasting meat the rest of the way. Breaking through the tree line, a ragged village was before me. Thirty or so dilapidated buildings and twice that number of impromptu camps were scattered before me. The only building of any significance was a large tavern which had a sign proclaiming to be my destination – the Half-Measure Inn.

Asterix and I wandered through the village, weaving our way around the campsites. The people stared at me evenly and did not offer greetings – apparently respect for the Silverymmon army and its role in protecting the realms did not extend to Korlakin. They seemed to be mostly humans, with a smattering of half-orcs and half-elves amongst them, which is typical for this area. They seemed to be awfully well-armed for ragtag hunters, but I had no trouble on my way and tied Asterix to a post and entered the Half-Measure Inn.

As I opened the door, I was greeted my raucous laughter and shouts, which drew my gaze to quite the spectacle. In one corner of the inn was a large combat ring, wherein a half-orc over six-feet tall faced off against a shorter, squatter opponent, while a crowd of ruffians – and more than a few with green or black tinges to their skin – called out jibes and advice to the combatants.

I was not interested in their fight, so I quickly turned and headed to the bar where a one-eyed half-elf with dirty blonde hair leaned on the counter, watching me approach.

I opened with,

“I am looking for Keyrel. Do you know where she is friend? Any information will be paid for with good coin.”

I slid two silvers across the counter towards him, which he watched avariciously with his one good eye. He then looked up at me and said,

“I’ll need two gold ones on top of those to provide any intel, good officer. No offense, but I won’t be making any friends helping a Silverymoon soldier find the queen bee around here.”

I feigned as if the loss of coin pained me, and then gave up the gold.

“You see that half-orc over there, fighting in the ring?”

I nodded.

“She’s her girlfriend. Well, one of them anyway – and the only one in Korlakin at the moment. She’ll know where Keyrel is.”

I looked amongst the crowd watching the fight, but I didn’t see any half-orc women amongst them. A few half-eleven prostitutes and a couple of half-eleven toughs. It is amazing how many half-humans are in here, I thought, and turned and said,

“Where is she? Point her out.”

He laughed as a ripping sound echoed though the inn and the smaller half-orc got a surprised look on his face as he held a good portion of his opponent’s shirt in his hands. The crowd fell silent, and the larger half-orc advanced on him. The smaller half-orc was begging for mercy, in Orcish no less. The larger one grabbed him – one hand on his collar, the other his crotch, and lifted him in the air for all to see as he went about in a slow circle. And that is when I noticed he was a she.

The scene before me was somehow incredibly stimulating. A muscled half-orc amazon with a sheen of sweat and the remnants of her shirt fallen around her belt, revealing a pair of exceptional breasts. My reverie was broken as she slammed him into the ground before her, and then kicked him in the balls.

It was not a half-kick by any means, and when it connected there was actually a squishing sound, accompanied by groans from the audience and her opponent receiving a small blessing as he passed out. She hopped over the railing of the fighting circle, her large breasts bouncing, and begin striding purposefully in my direction.

The barkeep said,

“That’s her. Coming right at you. I hope your luck is better than Barash’s. Well, that’s a twelve-victory string broken for him; I wonder if he’ll need a regenerate spell for that?”

She stepped up to the bar, demanded a drink, and downed it in less than a minute. She was amazing, as if somehow the gods sent their own muscled goddess down to us. I couldn’t help but gawk and wonder what temperament this woman would have in bed.

Her hand grabbed my chin roughly, steel in her grip, and she pulled my face to look her in the eyes, as apparently I had been looking at something else.

“Okay soldier elf. Whatcha here for? Not to have a drink with the rest of us, eh?”

Laughter rippled through the crowd, and I saw that they had followed her at a distance and were now between me and the exit. Rough faces that promised pain, even the prostitutes.

“I’m looking for Keyrel,” I managed to stutter out, “and the barkeep here says you’re her girl.”

She lifted me up by my face to look into her eyes. As my legs dangled above the ground I felt my anger rising, and the temptation to draw steel.

“Her favorite girl, soldier boy. Don’t you forget that. I’ll tell you where she is if you’ll explain something to me. Of all the elves in the Silverymoon army, why did they send a half-breed to the Half-Measure Inn to find a half-elf? Those elves to yellow to show their faces around here, so they sent a mutt?”

She dropped me unceremoniously and called for two more ales. She thrust one at me and motioned for me to drink. As the pain from her iron grip holding me aloft by the chin faded, it started to dawn on me why I was here. She gave me a tusky smile and said,

“Drink up mutt!” and clapped me on the shoulder, forcing me to spill some of my drink. “Pack of mongrels gotta take care of each other, no?”

I brought the flagon up to my face, trying not to make a face from the smell of the brew, and downed it as fast as she did hers, maybe even a little faster. As I wiped the foam from my lips she said,

“She is upstairs holding court. If you’re lucky, she’ll give you an audience, my lord. You did remember to bring a gift to court, didn’t ya?”

I shook my head yes and made my way through the crowd, receiving more than my fair share of jostles and bumps. Even though the roughed me up a bit, there was something in their eyes, their manner. Apparently if this half-orc amazon said you were one of them, you were in some weird way. And I guess I was then.

I mounted the stairs, looking down as I reached the summit. They were exchanging money and talking excitedly while the half-orc had spun to face the stairs and was working on her third ale.

“Come on then, step into the light boy. Let me see who the good commander Sagemoon sent.”

I turned to see a rough-looking half-elf woman wearing leather armor, or more accurate enchanted leather armor for it certainly would provide little protection as it were. Armed with a rapier and stiletto, as well as a stern look, nose ring, and plenty of earrings, she looked at me in mock satisfaction. Violet runes ran across one side of her face, fighting against the dull firelight of the torches in the hallway. Her cloak was etched with spiderweb designs – definitely drow make and the fact she was wearing it openly was a bit scary. Even more unsettling was the rapier, for the spider design on the hilt looked almost alive.

As my eyes no doubt bulged, I stuttered, “Those are illegal in the realms. You can’t carry those about.” As soon as I said it, I realized how stupid I sounded. She seemed to take it in stride, however.

“Is that so? If I am an adventurer, I’m entitled to keep the spoils of my raids on the Underdark, no?”

I nodded, that did make sense after all.

Her eyes turned hard and cold,

“I am no adventurer. I serve the dark elves I no small capacity, as it suits me. The cloak I wear was taken from the corpse of Imgos Noqusek, the most recent consort who disappointed ShriNeerune Hunzrin, newest high priestess of Menzoberranzan. This,” she held her rapier up and partially drew it, revealing a dark blade with a violet glow, “was my reward for tracking him down and dealing with him.”

“Make no mistake about it – I work for them – or anyone else who can meet my price and condones my methods. What about you, boy? Which dragon did you slay to achieve your position. More likely the best you’ve done is gut an overzealous orc warrior by accident.

Now tell me, and quickly, what brings you to my realm? And why shouldn’t I let my alpha girl twist you into knots? Or are you now realizing the elves sent you here because none of them could have made it to the bar to get a drink and still be alive.”

That is when the commander’s words came to me, or rather the realization that those words were spoken while I was daydreaming of the great deeds I’d accomplish. Then I remembered –

“He wants a meeting with you, in Silverymoon, to retain your services! You need but name your conditions and the place!”

“And did he bring a down payment? I can’t maintain all of this” she waved one hand around “without funding. The money boy, he sent you with money. If not, you’re dead. Maybe you’ll be dead either way.”

I went for the pouch of coin and tossed it to her in one motion. She caught it with one hand, her hand not bobbing an inch despite the twenty pounds of coin within.

She smiled thoughtfully and drew the stiletto. It’s dark blade gave no reflection – rather it seemed to absorb light. She got in my face, close enough to smell the stink of foul liquor on her breath. She slid the stiletto across my jaw, deciding on whether or not I was to live.

She flipped it in her hand and handed it to me hilt first.

“Tell him I’m game. Take this as proof. Tell him I will find him, and then we will have that little chat about how I can help the grand elves of Silverymoon. Why I might even drop in on High Lord Eythonna, or should I say dad?”

I don’t know why I ran; I just did. It was all too much. I’m just a damn soldier, I thought, I’m not cut out for this!

High Lord Eythonna is known for his virtuous devotion to Corellon and ensuring that the elves of Silverymoon never lost sight of Corellon’s radiance. Commander Sagemoon must have anticipated this, must have known of the relation. I felt like a chess piece, a pawn, being moved about the board, persons unseen using me in a battle of political savvy. I also felt screwed.