3. Mystic River

Mystic River


  • @3da0631449:

    Dear Ms. River,

    Excellent, I will inform my guild members, and they shall begin gathering some resources for the project. And, yes, Elidor is a member of our guild. So, I will speak to him, as well. We can craft everything you mentioned in your letter (furniture, desk, bed, chest, etc.), but they should probably wait until the actual structure is built.

    I will start working on a price bid. If you already have building plans drawn up, it would be very helpful to see them. If not, I'll make my best guess, and we can work from there. Approximately, how large will the structure be? Where will it be built? Knowing the size and location is important, so we can make good choices on the lumber to use for the project. Also, depending on what you need, we may already have some cured wood in our storage.

    As far as costs, are you looking to cut costs as much as possible and still have a solid structure? Or do you want the highest quality or somewhere in between? This will help me decide which materials we need to gather (pine vs. oak vs. redwood, for example). Please let me know, and I will be able to give you a more accurate quote on the price.

    Finally, I don’t believe I know Iathouz, but he’s welcome to join us as we look for resources.

    Sincerely,

    Z


  • A large black cat is circling the Union Hall in Norwick, it appears holding an envelope in her mouth. After carefully securing the area, hizzing at anyone coming too close, the cat settles by the door. An hour pass… nothing happens. She finally spits out the envelope landing in the dirt like a fur ball, she pushes it with her nose close and up on the door. With her front paws she pins it to the door licking it like a stamp. After a while she carefully one paw after the other lets go.. et voila.. the envelope is glued firmly in place. With a slow content blink and purring she seems quite satisfied with her own little miracle and returns into the woods.

    @383805e0a2:

    Dear Mr. Z

    You are truly a heaven sent, and certainly I remember you although our encounter was brief. There are many things needed for the construction of the Enchanting Lodge. Strong timber to build the foundation. I am a sorceress and not a skilled woodworker, but I would imagine the following is indeed needed: baulk timber, girder; joist; and rafters. Maybe pine would do well for that but to be honest I have no idea. When it comes to furniture like chairs, cabinet, alchemist desk and bookcases that should be made in birch or pine.

    I did ask Elidor to make me a table of red cherry. I do believe he is a member of the union, perhaps you can speak with him.

    I have two other special requests and of the absolute best cabinet work you can offer, that is a queen sized oak bed and a chest.

    Regarding metal work I like a large cauldron approaximate 1 meter in diameter. I am also looking at an owen, however not sure if it will fit.

    I have hired a miner, he is not currently a member of the Union but I am sure he could be enrolled. His name is Iathouz.

    This is my requests for now, I have already found the building site. My negotiation with the land owner has already commenced.

    Please return to me should you take some of the above mentioned assignments. Enclose any of your suggestions, terms of agreement and quotas etc

    Kind regards

    Mystic River

    OOC as my language isnt english I have no idea if the wood work for the house foundation is the right ones 😄


  • @cb915f7608:

    Dear Ms. River,

    We met once, a long time ago, but I'm not sure if you remember me. My name is Z, and I’m a master of the Crafters Union based out of Norwick. I hope this letter finds you well.

    I'm writing you because I have heard that you seek resources for a construction project. I would like to discuss this with you and offer the services of our guild. We can assist you in any or all steps of your project - building design, location, choosing and gathering resources, construction, furnishing, and so on.

    If you are interested, please send word to me at the Crafters Union headquarters in Norwick. I look forward to hearing from you and helping with your building project.

    Sincerely,

    Z


  • Ursine Battle Ring

    Blood and scorched fur covers the enchanter’s workbench. The Dire bear pelt iss fresh enough to still be dripping onto the floor, and the occasional wisps of rising smoke gives casual testimony to the violent nature of the great beast’s demise. The smell is horrendous. The gamey aroma of rendered fat mixed with the pungent odors of burned hair and greasy unwashed fleece assaults the nostrils.

    Mystic lights candles in the darkened room, and the flickering glow almost seems to bring life back to the bear’s remains, like it was still breathing shallowly in a deep dreamless sleep. For a moment her imagination shows her a vision of the enraged bear tearing the lab apart to get to her, it’s powerful muscles driving tooth and claw through wood and bone…

    The silence of the room ran counter to the violence in her mind. Taking the bear had been a close thing. Close enough that the thrill still lingered in her spine and tickled at her toes. She felt so… alive.

    The gold of the ring is cold in her hand. She sets it on the hide, then carefully removs her jewelers tools. It had been a long time since she set a stone on a ring, but the old skills were not forgotten. She examines the spell crystal for the umpteenth time, looking for the flaws she would never find. It was indeed perfect. The stone would be the basis of her enchantment. There would be no cauldron this time. The crystal would be the lock, binding the enchantments together and holding them permanently in the ring. It would have to be tuned first.

    She takes the crystal and rubbs it across the bear’s wool again and again, feeling the charge building like lightning in her hand. Reaching inside herself, she could sense energy flowing from the pelt and wraping the bear’s essence around the crystal, opening it up for her magics and threatening to take a part of her with it. She augments the essence with her own, building on the bear’s strength with a spell that enhanced it even more. She wound it around the ring, and into the stone, setting the first half of the enchantment. She unstoppered a vial, swirling the deep crimson blood of the wyvern, watching as it stains the very glass. She fortifies it with a resistance spell and then pours it onto the stone, turning the blue crystal a luminously vibrant shade of purple as it consums the blood and magic entirely. Another protection spell follows and she gives of herself to bind it to the first enchantment, and then to the ring itself. It did not set easy. The magics strikes back at her like a living creature, threatening to engulf her. She exerts her will upon it, cajoling it, forcing it, hammering it down into place, until finally it binds to the gold and crystal, becoming at last a permanent enchantment.

    It takes her a few minutes to catch her breath again. Perspiration matted her hair and rolls down her face. How long had it been? Minutes? Hours? In the end, it didn’t matter. She crosses the room to a reading stand and poures herself a glass of wine with a trembling hand, raising it in a toast to herself.

    Another success.


  • As she looks upon the well dressed boy handing over a letter, a tingeling sensation runs through her body. Normally…. well through prior experiences this would have meant there was a minor victory or a success of a small task fulfilled.

    However, this time she felt a bit uneasy as she couldnt breath and for a brief moment she felt fear. This was an unusual sensation because the fear felt was for herself and what would come next.

    "What have I done?" she whispered in her head

    But the situation didnt call for uncertainty, she cleared her throat and smiled at the boy, opened a pouch and then dropped a few coins in his hand.

    "You do not need to wait, I see to it that my response will be delivered accordingly"

    She quickly returned to the back lounge by the fire. She took her time, letting her fingers trace the contoures of a beautiful decorative crest sealing the envelope. It represented wealth, and a future unlimited.

    She paused almost afraid to open it, she had been tricked too many times before, and her paranoia she was a master to hide appeared it self through trembling hands finally opening the sealed correspondance.

    ..holding her breath.. she read the letter… then she closed her eyes...

    "What have I done?" she whispered

    An hour passed... she opened her eyes reached for her book, a piece of parchment and a quill.


  • A letter is delivered directly to Mystic's hand by a finely dressed young boy. He bows elegantly, and waits for her to read the letter, then offers to take a reply to his lord.


  • A second letter is left with Miss Lauren at the Oscuran Library

    @eca9d0ffd2:

    To whom it may concern

    I thank you for your swift response regarding the use of your facility. I can present both references and the gold required as needed. I will contact the gentlemen that for certain will vouch for me in order for a meeting with the Herald can take place.

    I have currently one creation to be done, and I wish to start immediately if possible. With the hopes of a continued cooperation.

    Kind Regards
    Mystic River


  • A reply is penned and left for her at the library

    @f3be2ea097:

    To Mystic River,

    As you are not a member of the Blooded, you must present yourself to the herald with one willing to sponsor you who IS Blooded, to be authorised for use of our facilities. This includes a bond of ten thousand gold, which will be returned to you once you have finalised your study and use of enchanting facilities, less any damages or costs involved.

    Should you fail to act according to the instructions of the Red Falcons to whom the library belongs, the bond will be forfeited in full and you will be ejected from the library.

    House of the Red Falcon


  • And another letter is left with Miss Lauren in the Oscuran library

    @6665c4b13f:

    To whom it may concern

    My name is Mystic River, I am not a citizen of Oscura but is frequently seen in this town and I have many friends here. The place I have come to appreciate the most is this beautiful library, a place to seek knowledge and more so a place in where you can be left alone and dwell in tranquility. Furthermore, I have noticed that this library even offers the most fabulously equipped echanting facility. With this letter I will ask about the possibility to use this facility for both study and enchantings. If so, please leave me a note with one of the Red Falcon brothers to pick up on my next visit.

    With the hopes of a positive response
    Mystic River


  • Mystic flips open the heavy leather bound book, and turns the stiff pages looking for something.

    “There!” she calls out

    Moments later..

    She lights four candles and places a bowl in the middle. She pours some water from an east running stream and sprinkles down dried flowers of the lavender. With an amused grin she watches them simmer on the surface. With a ladle she scrapes down some beeswax from a jar, just enough so that the sweetness doesn’t overpower but enhances the scent of the lavender; she stirs the mix gently then lets it sit for a while.

    She loosens the Athame from her belt and with its sharp silver tip she pricks the top of her index finger and four tiny drops of blood falls into the bowl. She reaches for a piece of parchment and lets it soak. While placing an uncut rose quartz upon it to hold it in place she whispers;

    Magic stone you draw to me,
    all love that is mine rightfully

    As candles burn she calls for the strongest splendor and follows with the chanting of:

    Come to me now, my charm is that great,
    this is your fate, you cannot escape
    My new love so precious for me you fall,
    capture by my power and my call

    A few days later a letter is delivered. As the letter unfolds a puff of refreshing lavender scent fills the room.


  • Mystic's Jewel

    Lightning smote the midnight sky revealing the boiling clouds that the new moon took pains to hide away. Thunder rolled up the valley, shaking the ground and causing the leaves in the trees to dance before darkness once again smothered the landscape. The wind howled in behind the night and brought a drenching rain with it, that in moments soaked a scantily clad Mystic where she sat cross legged watching the storm, leaving her cold and irritable.

    It was time.

    The chamber of enchantments was ready when she entered. Dull red coals glowed moodily in the hearth, daring her to awaken them. She stoked the fire with cedar splints, but the heat did little to warm the chill of the chamber. Already the shadows had gathered as if sensing something important hung in the air. Shaking off a shiver, she muscled the large copper cauldron over the flames. She ladled in cold water from and east running stream and followed with the beeswax from which the familiar sweet scent emanated. She drew her dagger Athme from it’s sheath with deadly purpose. Tonight, there would be a sacrifice made with blood.

    She crushed two sprigs of sliverleaf with the dagger, adding one to the cauldron, and rubbing the other over the bare skin of her left arm. She reached out with her arcane senses, feeling the lines of power pulsing through the room and pulled them to her, tying them into the energies in her own blood. With an incantation and a gesture, she divided the flow to form two spells, empowering both the Strength of the Bull and the Splendor of the Eagle, enhancing her own essence with them. Her eyes closed and she regarded the shadows cavorting about the room through the cold radiance they cast. One would suffice.

    She picked the gold ring off the workbench, she held it tightly in her left hand. Athme’s tip felt cold against her forearm as she drove it into her skin. Dark blood welled up and ran down her arm as she severed a vein. The shadows closed in, their hunger making them bold. Mystic chanted as the blood continued run. The ring pressed tightly into her palm swelled with the beating of her heart, losing in substance what it gained in volume, until it became not so much a ring as and ethereal golden hoop.

    “With this band of enchanted gold,
    I seek to be a shadow’s bride,
    Of which ever one should be so bold,
    To prove it strongest of the pride.”

    The shadows set upon each other in a cacophony of snarls and squeals, but it did not take long for one to establish its dominance over the others. She beckoned it forward, allowing it to taste the blood that continued to flow freely down her arm. Her head felt light as the shadow pressed for more, drinking her essence, pulling her strength and will from her in a moment of horrid ecstasy. The room spun and she struggled to keep from fainting as the shadow gorged, the other pressing in close, hoping for a sip of what remained. Despair and agony tugged at her. Control. There must be control. Her whisper was soft and faint.

    “On the edge of death so cold,
    To make us one the shadow tried,
    This wedding band shall be its hold,
    And it shall know I lied…”

    She looped the ethereal hoop around its neck, the band contracting with sudden murderous strength. Too late the shadow realized it was trapped and fought to escape as the band choked off its squeal. Mystic wrestled it down to the floor and the rest of the shadows scattered in sudden panic that they might share a similar fate. The firebrand spell came to her lips as she fought with her prize, and lanced out among the remaining shadows. Her anger grew at their arrogance. All that remained were small burning husks.

    “Did you think you could have me?” She snarled. “You thought to feed on me, take what is mine for yourself. What you’ve drained from me will heal, but what I take from you will last eternity.” Her laughter was cold and ringing.

    The ring pulled the shadow in as it contracted to it’s normal size. Mystic studied it for a moment. The gold shone through the wet blood in spots with a deep luster. If she looked closely, she see tendrils of darkness swirling around it in random pattern. The enchantment needed to be completed.

    The ring went into the cauldron to be followed by a rose, deflowered one petal at a time.

    “Petals of the Rose, King of flowers,
    Eternal symbol of beauty fair,
    With this ring I grow my powers,
    On the spirits of those who dare.”

    She cast the earlier spells into the cauldron, then used a shield spell to tie them off to the ring, sealing the shadow permanently inside. The cauldron sizzled then burst with a cloud of blackened smoke, extinguishing all the fires in the room. Darkness reigned once a gain, save for the faintest glitter of gold.


  • Mystical Belt of Charisma

    The hiss and crackle of burning cedar splints mixed with the pinging of an empty copper cauldron heating on their glowing coals echoed off the wall of the chamber of enchantments. She gazed into the flames, preparing her mind and body for the task ahead.

    The ladle in her right hand plunged deeply into the bucket of icy cold water from an east running stream, then doled its contents into the caldron, flashing to steam as it touched the scorching side. Three more ladles full chased the first before the water reached the bottom in a rolling boil. A large lump of beeswax followed, melting slowly, releasing its warm sweet scent into the room. She spread out the coals, allowing the enchanting oil to simmer as she carefully stripping the foliage from the herb commonly known as silverleaf with her prized dagger Athme. The herb had long been sought out by alchemists for it’s subtle influence on the mind and its connection to the moon. Some even said it had the power to conceal that which one wished hidden. Laying out the leaves, she bruised them with the flat of the blade, then formed them into a small nest. Taking hold of a pair of blacksmith’s tongs, she removed a smoldering coal from the fire and breathed life to it before settling it into the nest of leaves. Careful not to burn her fingers, she wrapped the leaves around the coal, adding more until she could hold it in the palm of her hand and only feel the faintest of heat emanating from it’s searing center.

    **“Fire burned as passion’s element take,
    alluring enchantment shall it be
    Those with passions tempered, leaders make,
    fascination by all who’ll see.

    Leaf of silver and drop of blood not dried
    tribute to the Mistress given.
    Forge the bond that may be tried,
    but never shall be riven".**

    She dropped the leaf wrapped ember into the cauldron, then held her left hand over it as she pierced a finger with Athme’s tip. Blood danced circles around the blade leaving wisps of purple hued smoke in it’s wake before falling into the vessel. The chamber darkened and a chill presence tickled at her shoulder, playing at the edges of her hair, caressing and cajoling. She could feel its hunger. The shadow leapt from her shoulder onto the workbench and picked up the ornately tooled leather belt. It danced around Mystic, holding it high, then around the simmering crucible. The belt splashed into the potion and the shadow returned to her shoulder.

    She used the ladle to meld the enchanting oil with the components. Allowing it to steep, she could feel the eddies of power in it. Closing her eyes, she felt the drops of her blood disseminate into the mixture. Focusing, she started her chants, drawing the energies of her blood and passing it along to that lost to the cauldron. Empowered Eagle’s Splendor followed Shield, twisting into the belt, wrapping around it, then bound to it by the force of her will as she added Empowered Bulls Strength to it as well. The belt would make the wearer feel a rush of strength and confidence, while others could sense the charm and magnetism they exuded. The other ties would be lost in subtlety.

    She was stronger now and the enchantment didn’t drain her as the others had. Yes, she had grown considerably since her last enchantment. A smile pulled at the corners of her ruby lips. The world was full of possibilities now.


  • Sitting in front of the fire with a black large cat at her feet and the big leather bound grimour in her lap, she flips pages reminiscing about her past while sipping a hot cup of lavender tea. She stops at the page and traces with her finger the contours of a drawing depicting deep purple colored bats hovering over a large Troll. To the left there is a description.

    Maggar
    Maggar's the Troll chieftain in the lands west of Fort Koll. Troll country. Breeding bats whose bites makes you fall asleep. He also keeps a small army of Trolls, so be careful passing through the Fort to the last frontier    .

    The memories return on their own. The early days on the isle, when friendships were first forming…

    Three of us were hiding in a patch of switchgrass outside the cave as the line of trolls shuffled past with their peculiar bowlegged gate. There were seven of them altogether, including three of the monstrosities the natives referred to as Alphas.

    The smaller ones were almost ten feet in height, with rubbery skin of a mossy green and claws like the talons of the great raptors of the peaks of the nearby Azumet mountains. They reeked of fetid swamp water, and I found myself happy to smell it, because it meant we were downwind so they couldn't scent us. We could have almost reached out and touched them.

    The young Tormish knight next to me breathed a sigh of relief as they passed. "That was close."

    I nodded in agreement, too scared to speak. It was a real risk coming here. My two companions were both new to the Isle, and were not seasoned warriors. Pherdur I knew. I had been showing him around for a while, but the flame haired cleric along with us was something of a mystery. They called him Red Lion, and he was supposedly a cleric of some thunder god or another. I really didn't know.

    We tensed as the grass behind us swished suddenly, but relaxed at the sight of the darkly dressed elf when his head popped out of the weeds.

    "That was the hunting patrol. It's clear to Maggar, except for a few of those bats. I figure we have about an hour before they come back."

    "Iathouz, do you have to sneak up on us like that?" The deep base of Red Lion's voice seemed to entirely match his large portly frame.

    "I rustled the grass, what more do you want?"

    "I can think of a few things." I chimed in. "Like that star sapphire you were talking about."

    "Big as your fist."

    The four of us made fists simultaneously, then we all looked around at the disparity in fist sizes.

    "Hers. It's not that big."

    "How do you even know it's there?" I asked

    Iathouz flashed an I know something you don't smile. Typical. "Because Ar Darcarna was in there a day ago after it."

    "And he didn't get it?"

    "No, he got his ass handed to him and he beat tracks to the exit."

    "Are you sure?"

    Smirk. "I watched it myself."

    "Is there a reason you're following Ar around?" Rumor had it the elf was spending a lot of time around my sister, and I was very curious as to what he was up to. His comings and goings were best described as ghostlike. His smile vanished in an instant, and it was enough of a tell for me to know he'd just given something away that he hadn't wanted to.

    "We need to get moving."

    "Agreed," added Pherdur, standing up.

    We broke from the tall grass and headed quickly to the cave. Pherdur taking the lead in the finest of knightly traditions: charge in unknown where even the celestials fear to tread.

    Red Lion asked the question at the cave mouth. "What about the bats? I hear they put people to sleep with their bite."

    Iathouz paused. "Oh. yes, well it isn't their bite, it's more their." He made a gesture with his hand coming from his mouth and spreading out in front. We all got it. Sound. "You let me deal with the bats."

    "I'm more concerned that Ar had to retreat from Maggar. The man is part beast." I didn't mean to point out the obvious, but someone had to.

    "There's four of us," the elf replied. "What could go wrong?"

    The bats were easy enough, although we had to wake Red Lion when we were done with them. We continued down the long dripping passage until we reached a fork in the cave. Troll droppings and bat guano were everywhere.

    "The wide passage goes directly to Maggar's Chamber, the smaller one goes there as well, but it narrows considerably further. Mystic, get these guys prepped, then take them in the front way, I'll take the narrow passage and get behind him. Give me two minutes to get in position." With that, the elf disappeared down the narrow passage.

    "You don't want any spells?" I called after him.

    "Never," was his fading reply.

    Maggar was almost eighteen feet tall, a green mountain of trollish muscle, covered in bursting purple puss nodules that healed back over to reform again. The odor in the chamber was overpowering, and all the bones strewn about made the footing look difficult. Pherdur and Red Lion made a skirmish line and advanced.

    "He's not he-re." Pherdur bemoaned over his shoulder through clenched teeth.

    "He'll be here.." I replied hoping.

    Maggar's piercing scream of rage deafened us. The two men closed with Maggar as I cut loose with a firebrand spell, watching the fiery darts sail into their target striking true. and doing nothing. Pherdur struck a mighty blow with his blade which only left the thinnest of lines across the beast's stomach as the toll caved his shield in with one brutal punch. The line cut by the longsword healed almost instantly. I shot off an acid arrow spell as my hearing returned. It impacted on Maggar's chest in an acridly smoking mass, but still failed to do anything. The troll sliced through Red Lion's breast plate leaving bright red furrows across his chest.

    "We're in trouble!" Yelled Pherdur, fighting for his life.

    Red Lion cut loose with a lightning bolt that passed through Maggar and cut a furrow across the back wall. The elven cry of surprise mixed in with the bellow of pain from the troll as it staggered back. Iathouz struck with his bastards swords into Maggar's back, biting hard and sending puss and troll blood spraying everywhere.

    The troll turned on the elf. I watched in horror as the deep cuts on it's back filled in and the burns from the lightning bold scabbed over. The troll snatched the elf off the ground and raised him to it's mouth. A rending troll is brutal killing machine. There are few things that compare. It sank it's teeth into his shoulder holding him in place as it's claws shredded him, then grabbed him again, spinning the limp elf around its head a few times and throwing him into the back wall, where Iathouz slumped to the floor amidst the gnawed bones of other victims.

    So much for elven planning.

    "We're leaving!!" I yelled, reaching out to touch the two men on the shoulder. My invisibility spell cloaked us as the Troll turned back in our direction. The troll sniffed around for us as we moved back. Out of the corner of my eye I caught the slightest movement from the elf. He was alive at least. I hoped it was a potion he held in his hand. Then he was out of sight. The troll caught our scent and charged towards us. A guttural shout came from the chamber in a language I didn't understand. Giant I think.

    The troll stopped dead.

    Then it raced back into the chamber, as we took our opportunity to run in the other direction, stopping only when we came to the fork in the cave to catch our breath. The cries of rage drifting down the tunnel gave us a good indication that Maggar was not in pursuit of us. Red Lion set to work with his healing arts, restoring Pherdur and himself.

    We argued briefly over what to do. Pherdur wanted to go back and save the elf. Red Lion and I knew it was all ready too late. In the end, we finally convinced Pherdur that we would need more help to return.

    Sounds of battle erupted down the passage towards the exit. Not wanting our escape cut off, we raced towards the noise. A trail of freshly dead bats lead us to an Alpha troll stumbling around headless, and then into the entranceway where six trolls had our elf pinned to the wall. How he got past us I still don't know. Pherdur and Red Lion charged, but I ended it in short order with three firebrand spells that left the trolls in smoldering ash heaps.

    The elf slumped down the wall, bleeding profusely as I approached him. I was mad.

    "Another one of your failed trips! I hope your satisfied! We all almost died! Don't you ever."

    The little bastard was smiling.

    A blue sparkle came from his hand as he tucked something back into his pocket.

    "I'm not entirely disappointed." He said dryly with a wink.

    The sneaky little bastard.

    Hmm.. I wonder if we should make another attempt at the Trolls out eastwards, last time it ended badly....


  • EXPLORING

    Curled up on the couch in front of the fire, Mystic cradles her hands around, strangely enough… a hot cup of tea. By her side is the leather bound book in which she keeps all her notes, charms, and journals. Her eyes catch a piece of paper sticking out and she flips it open... to find something she had completely forgotten... Once while she was walking south, exploring the hobgoblin land, she found what seemed to be an escaped piece of paper, from what seemed to be a note or from a book, that had been set aflame. The only thing left readable was:

    ….uth land
    Mar... Ha...s
    20 ing... ore

    "Interesting!" She whispered to herself.

    Although her journey through the underdark had been valuable for many reasons, it had been a very long and uneventful excursion. As much as she treasured pieces of intelligence, such as a fairly safe passages through the land, above or below ground, the trip had been a bit too quiet. A few bats, a cloaker, some elementals, and couple of formians were nothing that made her heart quicken. The journey of exploration had, however, been brightened by her friends, and she was very grateful for their willingness to come in support, as well as the patience they showed to walk all that way with her.

    Now this piece of information… might prove to be something entirely different.

    "I might call for another excursion", she murmured.

    She shuts the book, puts the cup down and gather her things before she heads south


  • I hear the clanking of armor approaching me as I quietly sit on the couch in front of the fire in the Mermaid. I look up and a bright smile greets me. A glint of firelight catches his golden and blue armor, casting an aura around him that makes him almost look divine. I smile to myself. Patting the cushion beside me, I invite him to sit.

    He leans in for a hug, and as he does he slips a parchment in my belt.

    "Good to see you!" I return the friendly hug. "I hear there are some big happenings in your life… Marriage and a father... some responsibility that is... but I cannot think of anyone more suitable. I am genuinly happy for you!"

    I am truly happy for him, yet at the same time I cant help but feel a sting of jealousy, or is it longing? Hard to tell really... I have been here so many times before. He's a good man and he deserves it. I take his hand in mine. There is nothing intimate about it, I only want him to feel comfort and confidence. He's young... and... well, I really want nothing from of him other then trust. We sit for a while, chit chatting about weeks that have passed. After a moment, he takes his leave and I am alone again, watching the flames dance, casting shadows on the wall


  • OOC: A couple of days old

    _In days long past, on a misty isle in the sea, there was a young mage. She was smart, talented in magic, and enchantingly beautiful, but her greatest asset was acquiring and disseminating information. Her skills could create chaos or sow confusion by such minor efforts as a gentle touch, pretended ignorance, or a warm embrace, but also delved into the complexities of deep intellectual debates of logic or philosophy, enchantments and alchemy, or even the primal instincts of carnal desire and lust.

    She had learned early that trust wasn’t freely given, it was earned, and sometimes it evolved into something unconditional.

    She walked the great regal halls of the Castle of Valor as wells as the dark twisted corridors of the Tower of El’Ninevah. The cloak she wore was a much red and silver as it was black and purple. She shared her bed with the most valorous of knights and imbibed wine with the lords of dread. She had seen her sibling chained down to an anvil and tortured with hot brands, and watched as the Valors collected wealth consumed only by their order, while the peasants were starved as the dark red mists rolled in with their dark knights and dragons, destroying all before them. This was her story…._

    I open my eyes to find myself wrapped in the softest blue and gold cloak, my head resting on a deep, down filled pillow, cased with delicately spun cotton. Quiet fills the room and a solitary candle flickers on the desk.

    Thoughts and images race through my head…

    He is so eager to please that all I need do is ask. What damage can that do?… He is proud and happy. He deserves his chance to shine, if only for a fading moment… This is his life. I just need to listen. It’s no harm done… A question is asked, and an answer is given. Other questions, more answers… Some shared information and thoughts of my own leads him back to answering another of my questions…

    Copies of letters and briefs of reports written then set to flame… A purple and gold mercenary… the four blades… 300 coins for the retrieval of a relic… Another powerful relic, a blade it seems… the Priest Jannick… the whereabouts of a Baron, Kapolinsheezah’s true nature… a feud… a warning… the next step, a plan…

    He is nervous. I tell him not to be. His hands tremble. A suggestion is made and I return it with a soft and inviting giggle. Instinct takes over where experience has never tread. His enthusiasm has a few tricks of its own. It is raw and passionate and fulfilling. The moment endures longer then I expected, much to my pleasure. Youth has its benefits…

    I shift cautiously. He lies peacefully beside me, and I can hear his breathing. A smile creeps across my face as I gently nuzzle his warm and bare chest. He remains deeply asleep and blissfully unaware…

    I notice the papers from the desk scattered amongst the clothes and steel plates strewn across the stone floor as I slip the warmth of the cloak getting out of bed. I gather the parchments quickly, taking them to the desk and the flickering candle. One by one I set them aflame, watching the burning ash float to the floor like a feather on a summer’s breeze. No one should know what has happened here. He should not be punished for his good faith in people. I certainly don’t wish him ill, and no harm was done. The ashes stir as I walk through them on my way out the door. It’s raining outside, and it’s a long walk back to the inn and my familiar couch with the blissful fireplace in the back lounge.


  • Another night curled up in front of the crackling fire at the Mermaid scratching away with a quill in the big leather bound tome resting in her lap.

    I learned today that Aranwe’s old flame is back. Is it just the happenstance of chance, or are the sinister machinations of fate meddling with me? Aranwe returns, only to be followed by her a few days later, set against the backdrop of the things I have happening. The timing appears suspect at best.

    We were sitting under the tree in the commons when she arrived. It only took a single glance at the two of them to know they had a shared history. Call it sorcery or a woman’s indisputable intuition if you will, but in the end, I was proven right.

    She’s my old girlfriend he had said when I inquired. I know a thing or two about elves, their bonds run deep to the point of obsession. I told him as much. I would step aside out of respect for those bonds of elven intimacy, perhaps to see if the old relationship would blossom into a rose again. Elves live too long anyways. Any mixed union would be akin to the great romantic tragedies that grace the stage far more often then reality would allow for on its own. I told him I neither needed nor wanted the drama, so I would remove myself from his presence for the time being.

    It was, of course, a test. One he failed as far as I was concerned. He did not object. Well, not enough for my liking at least. Not even an attempt to an arguement.. just like the day he had left.

    I kissed him on the forehead, like a friend, then told him a lie, or at least half of one, about some pressing wine business I had. I was expecting a delivery from the Ferret. A servant named Urgh was to take it to my storage in Droibo’s.

    It was follow up on a conversation a couple of us had had a few months back about who holds finest selection of wines in the region. I had declared The Mermaid had the best selection anywhere. The Grapevine, the Mithral Mug, the Coppers could not come close enough to compare, although I knew very little of the Banshee, or the taverns of Silver Valley.

    As we were discussing it, the Admiral walked in and bent a curious ear to the conversation. After a few moments he boldly stated he could provide the best wine for anyone’s taste. Always quick to challenge, I asked him to prove it to me. I would be willing to purchase a crate of red and a crate of white if it suited the taste of my desire.

    She stops for a moment staring into the fire, the quill lightly running across her cheek. A mischievous giggle escapes her lips before she resumes work on her precious journal.

    The Admiral arranged for a private tasting from some of his own casks, where I had a chance to sample his wares. The tapping proved to be quite satisfying and went long into the evening. I was delighted with the entertainment to be had over a barrel of wine.

    So in the absence of an elven lover, I should endeavor to enjoy and consume every drop of the aged red and white… or rather golden mulled wine I am soon expecting.

    After all… it is my desired taste.


  • It’s yet another evening spent in solitary repose in the Mermaid with a glass of mulled wine in my hand. Like so many other nights, I cast a jaded eye about the Inn looking for anything that might pique my interest.

    Men playing cards…

    Lackluster entertainment at best. My legs carry me to another section of the inn even though there’s little hope for the evening at this point.

    Men playing cards and drinking…

    This bunch is a little more energetic, but still lacks in any sort of merit to me. I return for another refill of my glass. As Kat pours, the door to the Mermaid bursts open and a familiar face enters in accompanied by a burst of chilly night wind. He barely breaks stride as he steers his way towards me.

    “Are you bored Milady?” He asks politely as usual, taking a seat next to me at the bar.

    “No,” I reply, but the tone of my own voice calls me a liar.

    He nods, although it’s in counterpoint to his disbelief.

    “How’s business then?” His finger traces across a pool of wet on the bar top, and his eyes follow it for a moment before he looks up. A sly smile slips like a passing shadow across his face. He plays the game for show.

    “You know I don’t have a business…” My eyes follow the slow swirl of his hand, then up his arm, across his chest, coming to a stop at long last on the smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. “…although I’m working on it.”

    “Well,” he responds aloofly, “if I weren’t so busy I would help you out… but I have more… important… things to attend to.”

    I can’t resist the chance to challenge him, knowing full well no one in here will pay any attention. Feigning surprise, I lean in closer, letting my golden hair drift across my face, drawing his attention back to me.

    “Such as?” I whisper.

    He makes a studied effort of looking around before lowering his voice. “Things that make me feel not so… dead.”

    I whisper back, so close that my lips brush his ear ever so slightly. “I see. Well sir, if there is anything I can assist you with… please let me know.”

    “Actually, I had hoped you would”

    I set my glass on the bar and walks out of the tavern and into the chill night air. He follows shortly after.


  • …comfortable seated in her favorite spot in front of the fire, swirling the glass with rich scented wine, she carefully opens the first letter sealed with the insignia of the Bardic College. Its the letter from a legend and knight and one of the strongest voices this land known. A soft sigh of satisfaction escapes her as she reads the letter written in flowing script

    @57e7cd0926:

    Dear Mystic,

    You ask about the House of Locke, specifically, the Baron. It is a topic I am fairly well versed in and I will share with you what I can if it will aid in the destruction of this evil man.

    The house of Locke has been involved in the "dark arts" for a number of years, probably ever since the Barons wife died. He went into mourning from his loss, and for whatever reason turned to necromancy to extend his own life, investigating the mechanics of becoming a lich.

    Both Ferdinand and Maximillian Locke aided their father willingly in his goal, raiding temples and ancient places to recover the artifacts and information he sought. One item I know of was an artifact of Jergal (the former god of the dead), another was a vorpal blade stolen from the temple of Lathander that not only could slay a living being, it could also separate the soul from the body.

    To complete the process of becoming a lich, the Baron eventually began working with an ancient dragon named Kaoplin'sheazah, who laired in the Bloodstone Pass in Damara. Initially the forces of the light and the forces of the dark of Narfell combined to seek out the Baron, recover the artifacts, and defeat him, but as would be expected they fell to bickering due to their different intents and their efforts ceased.

    Several years passed, until eventually I encountered the Baron again. He had returned to Narfell for undisclosed reasons, and had with him a dark companion, who I later found out in combat was a Mummy Lord. Working with Shallyah, we together defeated the Mummy Lord but the Baron was long gone. This would have been more than six years ago now, and I believe at that stage he had completed the ritual of lichdom.

    If you wish further information regarding the vorpal blade, Priest Janick of the Shrine of Lathander may be able to help you. Due to the length of time that the blade was in his care, he may be able to scry upon it or at the least give you a description of it. He was involved in the hunt for the Baron and can likely give you a run-down of what happened.

    As to other avenues of information; Pyotr, Oscura's number one Mage was also involved in the hunt for the Baron and enquiries with him may bear fruit. Maximillion is unlikely to speak with you as he is completely devoted to his father, and Ferdinand has passed on to the afterlife so is unable to be questioned. Otherwise, divinations would be my recommended course, and if you wish it I am willing to cast a Legend Lore spell for specific subjects to aid you myself.

    May the Red Knight guide your mind and your spells,

    • Lady Val Kyrie

    Then, she folds it back, four times, and whispers softly the words of protection.

    As I erase one letter away
    You'll forget Lady Val what you sent today,
    And when the last letter is erased and burned
    The knowledge of this–shall never return

    She leans forward close to the fire and places the parchment on the hot ember coal and watches it burn.


  • KAPOLIN'SHEESAH

    Mystic is curled up on the sofa near the fire in the Mermaids, she has her black leather bound book in her lap and a quill in her hand. She weighs her thoughts and words carefully in her mind and slowly puts them visible on the piece of parchment.

    @f78d59ef6a:

    Sir QuelCoth
    Receiving this letter may come as a surprise to you, we have spoken briefly on occasions before and now I would like to seek your advice on the matter. I have spent many days in the library researching and been visiting the local taverns in the outer part of Oscura but found nothing of value.

    Please, let me explain, the surface and region between Norwick and Peltarch has been visited and torched by what is claimed to be a half dragon, and in relation to this, there is the mentioning of the Baron Locke and something with the name of Kapolin’Sheezah.

    Me and a member of the Tribune fought the spawns of undead that appeared through a portal, I think, and on several other occasions red lightening burned the grounds and destroyed the gates of Peltarch. Many brave warriors from various parts of the region have been forced to defend themselves and the good land.

    I did briefly speak with Maximiliam Locke, but he was quite unwilling to give any information regarding the whereabouts of the Baron, and well, I am not really sure I would like to face him alone either as the rumors claims he is actually one of three liches now terrorizing our land.

    I have no further information, and then I thought of you and our last conversation together with Mr Alucard. You are, after all the Dreadlord, and I am sure with your prominent status have some interesting information, the type of information that is not easily attained and perhaps share this with me should you wish for it. You may not have any interest in the land above but perhaps your assistance in resolving this brings some personal gains as well. I do not know.

    What ever this is I would like to ease the land from the burden it causes us, Fendon is already one lich blade too many.

    Kind regards
    Mystic River
    Independent Scholar of the Arcane Arts

    She folds the letter four times, then she makes two almost identical letters. She packs her belongings and walk out on the streets of Peltarch.