Fifty worst dates (#37)

[Arddwyn Derwinthir]

It was a perfect evening for fishing: a warm spring day had become a cool, breezeless and overcast evening as the sun crawled towards the far mountains. Hungry fish were nibbling at insects that had fallen into the lake, sending circular ripples across an otherwise flawless mirror of clouds set afire by the setting sun. Arddwyn had been waiting impatiently for this moment.

Only Arddwyn wasn’t fishing. She was far too busy running for her life. She skirted around a stand of reeds within a particularly marshy spot on the lake’s shore and headed for a granite outcropping that jutted out from a hill. Behind her, the scaly, semi-humanoid creature was gaining ground in a gait made more of leaps than steps.

The day had started so pleasantly too…

-----------------​

“The lake’s not far now,” Alder announced as he led Arddwyn up the narrow forest trail. The young man had seemed a little nervous today, by Arddwyn’s reckoning. She found it cute.

“Great! I’m looking forward to some fried silverfin for dinner!” she replied with a bright laugh. She was looking forward to seeing this supposedly great fishing hole of Alder’s. Spending more time with him was a bonus.

The two had met only a few weeks ago in the small town of Vabberly. Alder had struck up a conversation with the wandering bard after she played something at the local tavern one night, and they found that they got along well. Arddwyn’s roaming lifestyle meant she didn’t make a lot of friends, and she appreciated that Alder seemed to have a sharp mind – a rare commodity in any rural town.

Today they’d made a small escape from that rural town to go to Alder’s favorite fishing spot. The trail ahead of them rose along a wooded hill before dipping down into a depression that cradled a meadow, where a silvery-blue pool of water glinted lazily in the afternoon sun.

“There it is, Wyn! Mirror lake – and it’s living up to that name today.”

“It’s beautiful!” she agreed as they paused at the end of the trail to appreciate the scene. A mixed forest of dark fir trees and pale aspens hugged the surrounding hills like a calico blanket.

They set up their fishing gear up along a sandy section of shore, chit-chatting as they tied hooks to their lines and debated on which sort of bug might make the best bait. Alder nearly stuck himself with his hook, nervous as he was when he mentioned he had a friend living nearby.

Looking back, Wyn’s mistake from the start had been taking those jitters as the sort that boys tend to get when they want to impress a girl. His had actually been the sort that young cultists are prone to when trying to lure a sacrifice into the lair of their god, monster, or bloody effigy. It was a subtle but important difference that Wyn filed in the back of her mind for future reference.

She was still unsure what relation the scaly, amphibious thing chasing her was to the young man Alder. She hadn’t stuck around long enough to ask. Whatever it was, it was putting a damper on their friendship. Of course, once Wyn had found out about Alder’s role in luring her here to be a monster’s supper, she had shown her displeasure by giving him a swift kick in a sensitive place. That was usually a sudden end to most budding relationships. Alder was likely still rolling in the bushes crying.

The quasi-reptilian creature was slobbering now as it came around the stand of rushes towards Arddwyn’s position. Apparently, it had somehow gotten the idea that it was going to be eating her soon; Wyn had her own ideas that involved not being eaten today.

She retrieved an intricate wooden flute tied to one of her belt loops. Thankfully, she had decided not to leave it behind with her bulkier instruments. Its presence had originally meant to entertain and impress her companion, but now it was going to be turned to escaping him and his unpleasant acquaintance.

Still running, she put the instrument to her lips and her fingers found their place along the holes with practiced accuracy. A song burst to life with each exhaled breath; airy from her exertion but with a potent magic and life all its own:

I am the serenade of nightingales playing upon the sunlit meadows of spring, the song proclaimed in every bright, flowing succession of notes. Listen to my flight!

The still air rose in accompaniment to the instrument. A sudden wind sent a few delicate flower petals soaring as it whirled around the bard, making each step lighter and faster as she ran up the side of a hill. The monster was going to have to work for its dinner tonight...

 

[Izaneus Phortea]

The sun shone rather brightly through the greened leaves of one of the most hospitable forest’s Yara had the pleasure of trekking through. Long tied hair was pressed lightly to one side, as said sun turning brown hair brighter to a near red. Loose robes tied haphazardly, and magical devices hung from her hips. From her back hung a pack of moderate size that swung gently from side to side as she paced forward.

She’d been sent forward by her mother on the family’s traditional expedition across Nona. Wherein she was to end her travels at Arcadia, there she would spend a few summers fostering her magical research. Where, hopefully, she would find a generous sponsor or a few who waited patiently for her to arrive.
She had to hope at least. In terms of political power the Shintara family was beginning to dwindle. Their only saving grace was.. Flaura, Her mother.

The thought caused her to sigh. Yeah, sure, she was an archmage. But she was hardly ever home, and constantly pressed the point of Yara’s own magical endeavors..
She’d been doing research! So what if it wasn’t what Flaura wanted. At least Yara enjoyed it, it didn’t matter that she hadn’t yet bound a familiar. What did matter was that the Hinterlands were becoming exceptionally dangerous with Darkseid and his minions roaming about the place. Spreading their corruption wherever they wanted. Forcing most major Wizardly lineages to learn offensive incantations. Training themselves to fight rather than to expedite the growth of magical knowledge.
-
Yara was no exception. Especially not with her mother being an archmage. Especially Not with her mother being an archmage. Taught offensive and defensive usages of magic that she would be able to defend herself against the growing horde of the unmaking. She had to learn a few combat oriented spells. Yara was more than aware that she needed to be able to keep herself safe. Even before The Unmaking the Hinterlands were fairly dangerous. Bandits and monsters alike proved ample danger for any wayward traveler.

The branch House Volencula learned this the hard way..

It was here when the Apprentice was adrift with her own thoughts, that she heard the sing song melody through the brush that alerted her to a young blard’s plight

She pushed past the bushes and branches that blocked her path before coming across what she could only describe as a mix between a Sahuagin, and a Saurian.

Having the Tribal intelligence of the former, and the animalistic fury of the latter.

Neither of which, Yara was particularly fond of.

Quickly, the apprentice searched for her belongings, before brandishing a bone wand, chosen for its ability to house life essence most effectively, thus making it a fine implement for the arcane.

The device was instilled with a torpor spell that should provide the fleeing bard ample time to escape, while also preserving Yara’s strength for the battle she was involving herself in.

“Sain’ri Feli Kor!” She spoke, the words fluctuating with power as her fingers expertly maneuvered the wand. Which she flexed forward.

The monster slowly began to feel its movements… well, slow, in its movement, it scanned the area for interference in its hunt. Yara could feel its slitted eyes flick to her, despite its slowed movements. In her periphery she could barely make out a young man brandishing an ornate dagger. Help perhaps? She had to hope at least.

The beast was now moving a fraction of its previous sprint. But it was still moving, and it had targets and intelligence. Who’s to say what was to happen next?

 

[Arddwyn Derwinthir]

The hungry creature spun around in slow motion to look for the source of the spell which had hampered its hunt. Somewhere within its reptile brain, it was calculating if the wand-wielder would make an easier meal than the speedy noisemaker.

Arddwyn and Alder both saw the wizard emerge from the treeline. Arddwyn reversed course and ran back towards Yara with light steps, while the treasonous Alder mumbled something under his breath, his gaze locked on the monster. The impromptu serenade probably seemed strange considering the circumstances, but no stranger than when the half-elf paused at a respectable distance and had to abandon her song to burst out in laughter at the scene unfolding before her. She wasn’t sure what was more amusing; the confused lake monster moving in slow motion as if the air around it had become a vat of molasses, or the confused village idiot trying to look menacing by waving a dagger around.

“Nice work, there!” Wynn said and nodded towards the delayed monster, trying to stifle another snicker at its condition while dancing away quickly enough that its attempts to gain ground proved entirely futile. “I take it you aren’t part of this happy little cult?”

Alder’s mumbling reached a crescendo – the end of a spell of his own. The air around Arddwyn’s and Yara’s feet started to shimmer and condense into sticky strands like spider webbing… only it wasn’t a very masterful spell, and they found their shoes covered with a gluey, half-formed mess that did nothing to slow their movement.

“You lying arse!” Wynn shouted rather undiplomatically at Alder with a disgusted grimace as she tried to shake the goop loose from her foot. “If you wanted to threaten my boots, you’ve done that well enough!”

The would-be cultist frowned, clearly embarrassed with himself, and fumbled around in his pocket with his free hand. He unrolled a small parchment and hurriedly started reading from it.

At this moment his god-monster stopped in its tracks with a terrible gurgling yowl. The glassy surface of the lake started to ripple. Then it started to boil in places as shadowy shapes rose from the water.

“Well, I suppose that’s a bit more threatening…” Arddwyn admitted with a frustrated sigh.

She didn't know exactly what she was expecting to come creeping out of the lake at that moment, but she imagined it would be horrifying and probably with lots of monstrous heads or stingers or some such. Or tentacles. Why was it always tentacles? But no - to her chagrin (or relief in the latter sense), there were just more lake monsters - Shorter, wartier, and somewhat reminiscent of angry toads.

Wynn had met all sorts of interesting folk in her journeys, but a murderous herpetologist was a new one.

 

[Izaneus Phortea]

Yara stayed silent in concentration, but listened intently as the bard spoke. Cultist? Well, that would explain the dagger in his possession, and why he was currently charging a spell of spider’s webbi- what was he?

It was as this process in her mind formulated that the half-useless webbing entangled. Released prematurely, before he had accrued enough power in the spell. Yara could tell. She’d done it a thousand times when she had just started out.

Well, it was possible he just hadn’t prepared enough-

Too focused on the Torpor spell, Yara failed to notice the boy grab at a scribed parchment.

The water rippled and boiled violently as the ancient rite took effect. Unnatural foreign magic awakening more amphibian monstrosities to consume their flesh. Somewhere in the realm of.. Twenty, if Yara had to guess. Each of them with lines of drool from sharpened teeth. Spears of bone that shimmered in the sunlight. Ready to pierce the two.

Turning to her new combative companion. Yara flicked her head in the direction of the incoming horde.

“So, there’s a few ways we can do this.” She spoke calmly, her eyes showing her emotions, that of anxiety, and fear. “ Option one. We split up and handle each side individually. “ As she spoke, she quickly stepped back to get out of the way of an incoming claw that targeted her midsection.

“ One of us gets the horde of furious reptilians, and one of us tackles large, mad and scaly.” She explained shortly, her voice shaking as she focused on the spell the wand was casting for her. Before a brief silence overtook her. “ Actually, that’s the only way I’m really seeing either of us come away from this alive without running right now. So!” She asked, clapping her hands to gain the bard’s attention. Who turned to face the Wizard.

“I don’t suppose you’ve got any songs in your repertoire that cause heads to mass-detonate? Or something similar?”

“Well, nothing so grotesque, but I do have a few tricks up my sleeve!” Arddwyn played fearlessly. Her own eyes not displaying a hint of the anxiety that haunted Yara. Slightly relieving the young apprentice.

“ Perfect! If it’s something that can keep lizard-brain busy, I can work on…” Yara was about to finish her sentence. Had a tribal spear not pierced her calf. Making words rather difficult.

Spells, for that matter, were also difficult when under the undying heat that is puncture wounds.

Whipping around, Yara flashed her arms in a flurry of obscure gestures that coalesced a wealth of arcane power in front of her, before she let her words form the rest. “Opla, Kei Shloq!”

A disastrous amount of pure force emanated in a shockwave that blasted the damnable creature back. A large indent in its chest. Preventing its breath from escaping. The rest were quickly approaching, and as Yara quickly began her spell of restoration. To at least mitigate the damage.

She saw a large shadow encompass her, in comparison, puny form.

Well! This was bad!

 

[Arddwyn Derwinthir]

Arddwyn’s first suggestion would have been to flee, as she wasn’t keen on the idea of fisticuffs with a bunch of toad monsters and most of her instruments were still in the inn, but these monsters were too fast to run away from and she couldn’t grant both of them the boon of the winds. She wasn’t confident she could take all of these creatures on at once, but distraction... that she could do.

She played a bit of improvisation, starting with a melody evoking the tranquility of a quiet pond where swans gather. Of course, there was no pacifying a thing that was set on trying to kill you, but in Wyn’s experience the act of trying to lull an enraged thing often had quite the opposite effect. For once, that was exactly what she was going for.

It managed to turn a few heads: that of the large reptile thing and three of its drooling minions. The bard had to weave in a few lines from her song of the wind to give herself enough of a speed boost to keep ahead of claws and spears. Of course, trying to play music while avoiding evisceration took a tremendous amount of focus, and some of the notes soured in the process. That ended up working in her advantage somewhat; clearly even lake creatures found the whining of a poorly-played high note very annoying.

Now she had some dangerous attention. Arddwyn was not a fighter by nature, but had been raised in a knightly order. She had been taught a decent amount of self-defense and tactics by those who were fighters by nature. And mother, who could be just as ferocious when warranted. She took up one of her old mentor’s favorite defensive stances, swerving and stepping in a chaotic, shifting rhythm that proved as distracting to her attackers as the trilling taunts made by the flute. The timing of their attacks was sloppy and relatively easy to predict, but the numbers game would eventually win: they had to find a way to finish this quickly, or be overwhelmed.

The reptilian monster that lorded over the toads wasn’t distracted for very long. It paused, its eyes glazing over for a moment. Hearing Yara’s outcry of pain and outrage, it snapped its attention back to the wizard with a snarl. The three toad minions rushed around to Arddwyn’s left and right. They were trying to surround her, and the injured wizard was soon going to have a bigger problem to contend with if Wyn didn’t somehow intervene.

Well, there was always the old fashioned way of getting an enemy’s attention-

“Hey, ugly!!” she shouted and launched herself at the monster that had its back turned to her. Spears stabbed at her from both sides; she heard at least one of them tearing through something, but the lack of pain suggested it wasn’t her.

She landed on the monster’s back and wrapped her arms around the creature’s muscular neck as tightly as she could. Not that she could choke out something so much larger than herself. It did, however, cause it to stop and waste precious seconds spinning around and trying to dislodge the stowaway. Wyn maintained her grip even as claws scraped across her shoulders and arms. For the moment, she was more concerned with the brief flashes of closing spear-heads seen while spinning along with the monster. In the background of this disheartening image she also caught Alder, reciting something shakily from his little scroll.

“Get… the….” she shouted in bursts while bucking and thrashing. “jerk... with… the... scroll!”

 

[Izaneus Phortea]

Yara could hardly stay standing as she watched Arddwyn leap upon the giant beast, and subsequently be thrown about as though on the back of a bull. Yet. There she stayed, through some act of defiant strength she stay situated on the lizard, and Yara herself had no time to dally. As with Arddwyn’s surprising grip strength, she had the perceptive instincts to notice that the cultist had so frantically begun another recitation of that scroll of his.

This was indeed a problem. Perhaps moreso than the squadron of lizardfolk now marching toward the two.

Quickly as she was able with a now injured leg. She formed the verbal and somatic components required of her next spell.

While Yara herself was still not particularly fond of combat, there were a few spells for such a task that she would label “fun”

“Wheis, Whine Torgula” Her voice spoke out, demanding the force of storm bind itself to her will.

And bind it did, in accordance with her wishes, her hands covered the length of a long and vibrant whip made of pure lightning. Which she lashed out as a tribal spear was thrust toward her head. Splintering the weapon, and spitting the beast that held it in twain.

With a swipe of her arm and a flash of violet the whip crashed upon the ground. The fall gliding across the ground, bouncing and jumping with empowered excitement, each crack summoning a crash of electricity from somewhere above that struck a wayward foe.

And plenty of wayward foes there were indeed.
The would-be cultist found himself between a rock and a hard place

In that, on one hand, he was just about half-way through his next recitation of primal powers, with a Wizard who just conjured a terrifying weapon of storm that was slowly mowing through those minions he’d summoned to defend him.

And on the other He was quite literally pushed up against a boulder while trying to recite this tongue that he’d spent so long learning.

It frustrated him, his once happy and handsome face contorted and colored into a red that spoke of the rage befalling him.

As the fall of the whip lashed upwards to strike at the scroll he was reading. He dropped it, so as not to lose his hand.

However, as the fall cracked down on the parchment, destroying it and causing it to combust into flames. Alder shouted in a manic frenzy as he brandished his dagger, and charged forward toward Yara, before a bolt of lightning from Yara’s invocation struck him square in the back of the neck, rendering him unconscious.

Well. That was one problem taken care of. Now to deal with.. Whatever the kid summoned previously. The horde had grown particularly ravenous, and Yara was doing all she could to keep them off of herself. Looking up, it didn't seem like Arddwyn was having much more luck. Raising her hand she struck out horizontally with her spell. Sending a group of six or seven to the briny depths of whatever god they followed. " Spellcaster taken care of!" Yara shouted out as she lashed her hand once more to the side. Throwing the next batch of attackers of her trail.

Yet their determination was unfaltered, and as the bony tip of a spear entered her shoulder, Yara could barely cry out in pain as she felt the gigantic tail of.. that elder lizard thing, hammer her back, sending the air from her lungs in one fell swoop, and sending the poor Wizard tumbling across the ground with her spell in hand. Fluttering as its power began to wane.

 

[Arddwyn Derwinthir]

Arddwyn was beating her personal record for the length of time she’d been able to hold onto something that was trying to kill her. Then again, it was also the first time she’d ever tried to hold onto something that was trying to kill her. It proved to be a very short-lived victory, as she only managed it for a few more seconds before being flung through the air to land roughly on the gritty beach. It wasn’t a good position to be in with a bunch of monsters closing in.

Oddly, the stabbing that Wyn fully expected at this point did not occur. Instead there was a flash of light and a crackling that raised the hairs on the back of her neck. With the sudden pain in her side and the world spinning around her, she couldn’t quite tell what had happened.

She rolled away from the pair of frog monsters trying to pin her down and forced herself to her feet just in time to see a bolt from the blue strike Alder down. The stranger had created some sort of lightning weapon, which was proving effective; many of the monsters had been reduced to smoking lumps on the ground. The ones who were still standing remained on the offensive, but their formation was scattered. Two of them charged towards her with spears flailing and mucous-filmed eyes glaring with lethal intent. Worse yet, the wizard assisting her had been knocked to the ground by the apparent lord of the lake monsters. Damn it all, if she’d thought to bring her lute…!

The problem with musical instruments, of course, was that all of the good ones required two hands to play properly; and at this moment, Wyn had to decide if she was to use her music or fight. One of these she was very good at, though the other was probably going to be more useful to her unfortunate peer fighting for her life from the ground.

Two spears closed in. One of them plunged uselessly through the air by her side and the other, by some dint of luck or ineptitude, struck the ground hard enough to shatter its shaft. Whichever it was, it gave Wyn time to get to another spear that had been abandoned by a slightly-charred frog monster she suspected would not need it anymore.

Arddwyn didn’t need to worry about her flute at the moment on account that she’d lost her grip on it sometime in the process of being flung about. Annoying as that was, it freed up her hands to better control the crude weapon as she tried desperately to get to Yara’s position. The toadies were more difficult opponents than they looked, and she couldn’t land any strikes against them nor even put them on the defensive. This was looking grim.

The lake monster howled again, sending a shudder through Wyn’s spine. She sincerely hoped that this wasn’t in anticipation of eating her new potential friend. But the toads halted their advance as soon as the feral command was given. Their commander turned its attention to a new target.

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Every proper summoner is at least mildly aware of the hazards of summoning things; particularly things that do not wish to be summoned and especially things that are hungry. In this case, the summonee, Quaz’wygguth, was in both categories. Now that the irksome scroll that kept her controlled had been burned to a pile of ash, Quaz’wygguth was no longer simply some mortal’s pet to be fed; and like any wild thing that has been kept leashed by a spineless master, she had but one vengeful desire in mind.

Having knocked down the fleshy one who summoned lightning against her children, Quaz’wygguth turned her attention to the unconscious body of her former master. She wrapped a claw around his leg and started towards the lake, her body and those of her strange offspring appearing to dissolve into a fetid mist more with each step. She could have devoured the fallen wizard where she lay, but that fleshy one did her a favor by destroying the scroll so that Quaz’wygguth could not be dragged from her home again. For that, the wizard could keep her pathetic life.

 

[Izaneus Phortea]

“Yara darling, wake up won’t you?” The Wizard heard a songlike voice call to her in her haze. The feeling that something was… wrong, on her back. She opened her eyes, and found herself in her bed. Soft and extravagant as it was. By her side, she saw… Soft features, curled gentle into a delighted expression. “ There we are, did you have fun?”

Reaching upward and extending her legs to stretch more comfortably, Yara found she couldn’t stretch as far as she wished. Strange. Did she hurt herself? Bah, nothing a spell can’t fix… later.

A yawn echoed outward as the young Wizard finished her stretch, and she felt a hand on her forehead. Turning her eyes slightly she found it was her mother’s, her fingers gently caressing their way through Yara’s unkempt morning hair. Which caused an unnatural sense of ease within the sleepy girl.

Yara had known their home when it was barely a cottage stuck in the ground. A fireplace in the center, and one bed for her and her mother to share.
But as her mother grew in magic, so too did her political power grow, and similarly, so too did their hearth. “ I guess I did… what did I do?”

The daughter spoke softly to her kin, Flaura’s gentle, and ever knowing eyes burrowing their way through her descendant. Somehow, without a spell, Yara felt like a child once more. “Oh daughter of mine, you performed an act of Heroism!” Her mother replied thusly, her smile just sweet as before, if curling into a slightly more proud expression.

Yara felt her heart warm, alongside her cheeks. “ Huh?” She wondered aloud. Her entire being mixed into an expression of confusion.

Causing her mother to duly laugh. “ Oh, dear.. Daughter, you are something adorable.” her voice echoed through the dreamy bedroom. “ You saved a young bard, though. You did put yourself through quite the scuffle to do so..”

Yara could hear the faint strings of reprimand in her mother’s otherwise gentle voice. Which then faded. “ But you still did your best, and you aided someone else in the process. You should be proud of yourself.”

Her words were comforting and calming both, and Yara lay her head back on her pillow, comfortable.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep, hearty breath through her nose, and exhaled through her mouth.

“I love you mother..” She whispered back gently.

---

Yara would awaken to a soft melody coming from somewhere nearby – the gentle fingerpicking of a lute as it played something deep and solemn. She might sense a likewise tranquil, soporific energy emanate from the instrument. She could definitely feel an itchy tingle across areas of shredded skin and torn muscle, although they were hidden beneath bandages. Arddwyn she’d met at the lake was sitting silently by Yara’s bedside, her gaze completely fixed on the manipulations made with her left hand as her delicate fingers moved with trained dexterity between chords. On her left ring finger she wore a polished wooden ring. Wyn grinned when she noticed the battered wizard was awake, and paused in her playing. “Glad to see you’re still with us. How are you feeling?” she asked. She still felt somewhat guilty for what had befallen the other girl.

“I did what I could for you with my medical kit back at the lake, but you were hurt pretty badly,” she said, concern shrouding the apparent joviality she’d had earlier.

She was actually as serious as stone when it came down to the grim business of fighting, but she had clearly underestimated Alder and his minions. She stood and rested the lute on her chair. “It seems a bit rude not to introduce myself, since you came to my aid when you had no stake in my fight. Arddwyn Derwinthir, of A-” Funny, the name of her homeland had escaped her mind for the moment.

“..Or Wyn to my friends... or sometimes to those who later try to kill me,” she added a bit sheepishly with a bow. “I am grateful to you for intervening on my behalf.” Still feeling awkward about the whole affair, Wyn searched for anything else to talk about. “I must say it was quite an impressive display, with the lightning! A difficult element to control, as I recall.” A few short moments of silence gently passed by, which turned awkward by Yara’s blank face. Quickly shocking itself back into the reality it was in.

“Oh! Yes, my name is Yara Shintara, Daughter of Archmage Flaura Shintara.” Another silence then passed before a response was given.

“An… archmage? Well, I’ll have to thank my lucky stars that you showed up when you did.”

She had, in fact, given great thanks to her lucky stars for getting out of that situation with only a few scrapes and pokes herself – even if her own stars were worlds away. It brought up an interesting question that she turned over in the privacy of her own mind: what was an archmage doing up there?

"Well I am pleased to meet you, Yara Shintara, Daughter of Archmage Flaura Shintara. I am at your service."

Yara nodded slowly, her weary and tired mind unable to process those words to their fullest extent. Something Arddwyn duly noticed.

“ Sleep for longer, we can talk more when you’re more adequately rested.” The Bard spoke wisely, and Yara heeded her advice, laying her head back into the feathery pillow that supported her, and drifting into unconsciousness.

 

[Arddwyn Derwinthir]

Arddwyn stayed for awhile longer to play a sort of lullaby for Yara as she slept. Something about those dark tones of d minor brought to mind the battle of the crackling hearthfire against the howling blizzard that tapped against frosty windows on long winter nights; a prelude to a long winter slumber.

Rest now, beyond pain and sorrow. Heal now, safe and warm like the bear who shelters in its den from the winter storm.

The song would not mend Yara’s wounds; rather it was coaxing out her own innate ability to heal, as all creatures who could sleep did in the deepest embrace of slumber. It could also coax a weary soul into sleep -

Arddwyn jerked her head up. Apparently, she was also a wearier soul than she thought. But she hadn’t awakened Yara, so she packed up her instrument and left the wizard to finish resting. She’d visit again in the morning.

The bard returned to the inn where she’d purchased a room before her disastrous da-- fishing trip, bought some soup and a piece of hard bread from the innkeeper, and went directly to her room. Sitting on the small but surprisingly comfortable bed with her back to the wall, she took out a dog-eared notebook from her bag and a stick of charcoal. A gift from one of the more bookish of her mentors, it had a stamped image of a many-petaled flower on its worn cover.

She turned the pages until she arrived at one that made her face turn red and shrink up with distaste. It was the sketch she’d made of Alder yesterday. It had looked like a warm grin when she’d drawn it; now it had an untrustworthy smugness. With a snort of derision she tore out the page, crumpled it up and tossed it at the far wall. She guessed it was a bittersweet sort of vindication to know he was likely getting his bones gnawed on in some swampy dimension somewhere.

How deadly is the trap set by your honeyed words? She started to write, frowned and crossed it out.

“Spirits, if I get any sappier they’ll call me a weeping willow…” she chuckled. She tried for a good while to think of something better to write down, but ended up only staring with unfocused eyes at the mostly-blank page in front of her. She really wasn’t even thinking very much about that treacherous boy; more remembering how Yara had been talking in her sleep about her mother.

Her gaze finally settled on the reddish yew ring on her left hand, and she smiled sadly. The ring Arddwyn’s own mother had given her years before, cut from a piece of her ritual staff. A gift from the tree of death. She brought up her right hand to inspect the matching ring there. The bone-white, pearlescent substance of the ring shone faintly in the room’s ambient lamplight. The gift from her father, and in fact it was a beautiful bone taken from a terrible monster. Morose, she supposed, but she often understood father’s dark sense of humor. Two strange halves of her strange whole.

By the Awen, did she miss them.

 

[Izaneus Phortea]

Sleep had quietly taken Yara once more. Her eyes fluttering closed in an elegant, hypnotic fashion. Her mind, silent for once. As the pleasant warmth of rest washed over her. As though a blanket of darkened respite had taken her into its grasp and allowed her to leave her worries behind in the waking world.

“No Yara! While wood is easily obtainable, it’s one of the worst materials to be used for enchantments! Mundane wood that is..” She heard her mother explain, as Yara voiced her childlike idea to have fireworks shoot out of her new wand-ish thing. A twig by any other name. “Come, I’ll teach you more about it.” This was the first day Yara had set foot in her mother’s Laboratory.. Where she concocted all sorts of magical spells, potions and a myriad of other works Yara’s mind was too young to correctly understand.

“See now? Mundane wood houses power in its fibers, but specific magical lumber can house much more powerful enchantments.” Flaura’s voice spoke out softly to coax her daughter into understanding. But understanding wasn’t what she was searching for. “ I just wanted to make those pretty lights..” Yara whispered, dejected from her previous experiment. “Sorry mom..”

Her eyes widening in her own form of understanding, Flaura gently ran her hand through Yara’s fluffy hair. “Well then let's do that! I’m sorry Yara dearest.” She replied as quickly as she was able. Not wanting to inhibit her Daughter’s special interest in magic. “What lights do you want to make?” That soft, smooth voice of her mother echoed in her dream, and in her sleep, Yara muttered.

“The green ones.. That go boom..”

In this haze she could feel the light of sunlight on her face. But there were no windows in her mother’s laboratory.. Her eyes gently began opening. Immediately turning and wincing as golden radiance attacked her irises. Her mind a fog as she spent the next few minutes trying to desperately gain her bearings. Where was she?

…

Oh yes, that’s right. The lake. Strangely, she couldn’t feel the itchiness her wounds normally soaked her with. Nor the ache of muscle pains that came from being battered by a giant Lizardman… thing. Yara had only made brief observations during the battle, many of which were largely scattered due to how frantic and dirty the battle had been. That bastard of a cultist. Messing with powers he couldn’t have hoped to control once that scroll had been destroyed.

Who was he? What made him make his move? How had he obtained that scroll when, from what Yara could remember, his own skill in the arcane was hardly that of a childs? Several questions ran themselves through her mind with tireless anxiety. Yet many of which would have to be temporarily put aside so the Wizard could make for the most pressing concern as of now.

“Fuck… I’m hungry.”

-

After waking up and getting her bearings, and her equipment. Yara found herself in a quaint town by a dense forest nearby. Which likely led to the lake by which she lost consciousness. Made sense… With what coin there was in her pocket she decided to head to the inn, best to save preserved rations for when they were needed most.

Upon opening the door she was greeted with the almost drowning air of hospitality. This town was a friendly one to be sure. As she opened the door she was greeted with smiles and warmth, some with a cheerful mug in hand and others joking with their food sat steaming in front of them. Wooden and finely made tables, with a kindled hearth near the back of the room, providing more than ample cheer.

“Welcome, welcome! What can I do ya- Arbiters above! Ain't you the Wizard that helped ol Wyn out with some nasty business she got ‘erself caught up in?” The innkeeper announced, quite loudly. Rather too loudly for Yara’s still aching brain. Wincing before replying, Yara raised her hand and gently pat the air in front of her, to gesture to the man to keep it quiet, as she raised her other to her head.

“Yes.. that would be me. I’d like whatever you’ve got in terms of food..” She nearly whispered, which the innkeep nodded in affirmation. “ Well we got steak, some kinda mutton, steamed vegetables and the like.” He listed carefully, raising his fingers up with each addition as though to help him remember more clearly. Yara’s ears perked at the last mention.

“ Some Steak and Steamed Vegetables would be delightful, thank you.” She spoke, raising a decent amount of coin from her leather purse, which the tavernkeep swiped with all the finesse of a trained thief.

“Pleasure! It’ll be out in a jiffy.” He spoke shortly, and grabbed at a nearby cord, which he spoke into softly. “ Oh!” Yara noted in surprise. “Do you know which room Arddwyn is staying in currently? I’d like to pay a more formal thanks.”

 

[Arddwyn Derwinthir]

"Aye, it's the third door on the left upstairs. Though I think I seen 'er go out the door a bit earlier. I doubt she'll be gone long, she didn't have 'er things packed," the innkeeper replied with a broad smile across his broad face before excusing himself to go help another customer.

True to the innkeeper's word, Yara didn't have to wait long; she'd only had a few minutes with her steaming breakfast before Arddwyn entered hurriedly and approached her table. She greeted the wizard with a grin and a nod and sat across from her.

"Good morning! I thought I'd see if-" at that moment, the innkeeper swooped down on their position to assault them with his sunny disposition.

"Mornin' Wyn! Come back to thank yer lakeside hero, eh?" he asked in a booming voice, trained by years in his line of work to shatter silence and grab attention even in the clamor of a bar brawl. "Saved yer hide, didn't she?"

Arddwyn narrowed her eyes at the innkeeper. If there was one thing she resented, it was the assumption that she was any more in need of saving than anyone else at any given moment. Sure, everyone needed some help every now and again, but given that she'd escaped the monsters without any real injury and brought Yara back to town mostly on her own, she didn't savor the idea of being looked upon as a damsel in distress. In any case, she would have probably gotten clean away if not for... well, it didn't matter. She of all people knew how much a story evolved - seemingly all on its own - to suit the imaginations of those who heard it; but at least The Story was usually polite enough to wait for the characters to leave the room first.

As I recall, it is your dear boy Alder who is in dire need of rescuing after all, she wanted to say, but bit her tongue.

Instead she smiled and replied with syrupy sweetness, "Why, Mr. Tomburdir, are you quite sure you are not a bard yourself? Because it seems you have woven quite a tale! Have we yet come to the part where Yara here rides a dragon around and hurls thunderbolts from the sky while a heavenly choir serenades her?"

The innkeeper turned a bit red in the face and chuckled. "You'll have to tell me what happened again, miss Wyn."

Wyn shook her head. "I'm afraid you'll have to hear it through the town guard. I'll be leaving today."

The innkeeper went on about how much they'd miss having a bard in town - they didn't come through very often - but such was the way of things he supposed... and so on. Wyn was looking instead at Yara, who might just have been hungry enough to prioritize eating over conversation at the moment. Especially seeing as the innkeeper was happy to fill in for her. Wyn waited for Yara to take a big bite of one of the vegetables on her plate before asking,

"What about Alder? Have the guards found any sign of him?"

"I'm afraid not, miss Wyn. They've looked all around the lake, but turned up nothing."

"That's a shame," she replied flatly while giving Yara a meaningful glance and a surreptitious shake of the head. "You know, I am rather famished. What's going on in the kitchen today?"

With this change in subject, she finally manged to order breakfast and send the innkeeper back to work. She sighed heavily as the large man went on his way and then turned her attention back to the wizard.

"I was hoping you might be willing to help me with something when we're done eating?" She smirked for a moment before casting her gaze around the room, looking for any potential eavesdroppers. "I promise, it won't involve fighting frog monsters this time. Just information."

Yara seemed agreeable enough to continuing the conversation, if not curious, so the two women ate their breakfast in companionable silence before heading up to Arddwyn's room. Aside from a lute lying on the bed, it seemed that she had packed everything up.

"When I brought you into town, I told the guards what happened... more or less," she explained a bit sheepishly, keeping her voice down. "I didn't expect some small-town rural guards to believe me when I explained that one of their own had suddenly become some maniacal cultist; especially since you had to turn our only evidence into ash to save us both - not that it would have meant anything to them anyway.

"So I told them that we were all there fishing together when the monsters came out of nowhere. I distracted them long enough for you to scare them off with your magic, but Alder - the man who attacked us - disappeared during the fight. Hopefully, that will avoid a lot of other unnecessary questions from the law. Speaking of questions..."

She took her notebook out of one pocket and starting flipping through it as if looking for something. Stopping on a page, she paused and glanced at Yara. Could she really trust a stranger with what she was about to ask? She supposed that Yara was probably as curious about all this as she was, considering both their lives had been on the line because of whatever Alder had been up to.

"I think we can both agree that items like that scroll should be very rare in some rural village like this. So, I decided to investigate where that scroll might have come from; and I think I may have found something." She wasn't going to go into the details of how she knew where Alder lived, or how she let herself into his home for her investigation, or how easy it was given that the half-a-dozen people who made up Vabberly's town guard were all out searching for him.
Yara seemed agreeable enough to continuing the conversation, if not curious, so the two women ate their breakfast in companionable silence before heading up to Arddwyn's room. Aside from a lute lying on the bed, it seemed that she had packed everything up.

"When I brought you into town, I told the guards what happened... more or less," she explained a bit sheepishly, keeping her voice down. "I didn't expect some small-town rural guards to believe me when I explained that one of their own had suddenly become some maniacal cultist; especially since you had to turn our only evidence into ash to save us both - not that it would have meant anything to them anyway.

"So I told them that we were all there fishing together when the monsters came out of nowhere. I distracted them long enough for you to scare them off with your magic, but Alder - the man who attacked us - disappeared during the fight. Hopefully, that will avoid a lot of other unnecessary questions from the law. Speaking of questions..."

She took her notebook out of one pocket and starting flipping through it as if looking for something. Stopping on a page, she paused and glanced at Yara. Could she really trust a stranger with what she was about to ask? She supposed that Yara was probably as curious about all this as she was, considering both their lives had been on the line because of whatever Alder had been up to.

"I think we can both agree that items like that scroll should be very rare in some rural village like this. So, I decided to investigate where that scroll might have come from; and I think I may have found something." She wasn't going to go into the details of how she knew where Alder lived, or how she let herself into his home to look for clues to his sudden desire to murder her, or how easy it was to get into his house given that the half-a-dozen people who made up Vabberly's town guard were all out looking for him.

She took a rolled scroll from her pocket and handed it to Yara. “It’s a letter – not very interesting in and of itself, but you can see bits of gold flake and some violet powder have settled on it. You would know better than I would; isn’t that the kind that magicians use to bind magic into paper?”

The letter was written out in very neat cursive, detailing the sending of some treats from one Arcadian grandmother to her dearest grandson, with directions to enjoy them. The paper it had been written on was fairly smooth and fine-grained; the expensive sort used by nobles and large companies rather than personal homes. A few gold and violet specks shimmered with the barest molecules of magic from the few crevices in the fibers.

“And then there’s this. Is this familiar to you, by chance?” She showed Yara a sketch in her notebook. The collection of curves, lines and dots might look, to an eye studied in the arcane, like an incomplete sigil used in some magic practices. There wasn’t enough of it to deduce which sigil it might be.

“I wish I had the entire picture, but this was all I could put back together. It was on a broken wax seal affixed to this letter. I couldn’t find all of the pieces.”

 

[Izaneus Phortea]

Yara listened quite intently as Wyn began her speech, doing her own observations with what she knew about the Arcane. She listened as the Bard began her theories, and magical binding. “ Mm, that can depend on the tradition of magic being used. See, a lot of different Wizards, and other forms of spellcasters follow different teachings, or even teach themselves, which can find the varieties in magic very individualized…” She leaned closer, to get a closer look at the parchment. “This is, however, very indicative that whoever did create this particular scroll. Followed one of three traditions that I can confidently list..”

She traced the sigil on the charred and burnt scroll with her finger, feeling it under her skin, she closed her eyes. Trying to recall her training in the use of runes and the myriad magical languages. “This sigil narrows it down to two.”

She stood up, and looked for another piece of parchment, before realizing she had her journal on her. Using that and the charcoal pencil she had, she wrote down the first. “ Which would be… the Taelk, and the Mystralian.” She spoke… before realizing. “Hm… This could also technically come from my own school of Wizardry… but I’m not quite sure.”

Arddwyn gave a thoughtful glance to the Wizard as they spoke. “ And why might that be? What makes you think those particular schools are the ones this technique originates from?” She questioned thoughtfully, even if she herself hadn’t dabbled with Magecraft, being able to pinpoint and trace back the style of casting would be invaluable should a Wizard have another go at her life. Or if their negligence came to bite her in the ass.

“You can rule out a lot of schools just on how they go about things. The Cult of Mercury for example has very, very few spells to their name, and they require deep and powerful rituals to fuel them. So something like a scroll with some magical contract embedded into it is useless to them, especially if it’s for the lizardfolk we encountered..” Yara explained, her voice concise as she looked about the charred remains of the scroll.

“The Gargachans entreat the different spirits to their service, so while it might interest them. They don’t actively do something like this… and I for one have never met a Gargachan who has enough coin on them to purchase gold, even in flake.” She spoke as she rubbed the brittle substance between her fingers. A faint glow emanating and similarly dissipating from the scroll.

“Mystralians manipulate and pluck on the strings of Mystra’s weave to conjure effects, and are quite known for their ability to create magical items. So they’re the most likely suspect. Plus they’re rather vast in number. You’d be surprised just how many Mages and the like who follow their teachings.” She explains, leaning back, and writing her findings down in the journal where she now stored clues and possible leads to whatever was to happen next

“ The Taelk are a rather obscure tradition of magic.. Supposedly they’re only recently founded. Which could give them a motive to spread scrolls like this. But they’re also morally grounded, they protect various forests and different forms of life, no one really knows why however. They just started declaring themselves guardians.”

“Well, that sounds extremely suspicious to me.” Arddwyn commented briefly, Yara could note the brief bout of caution dotting her otherwise flawless features. The flick of the eyes as they looked to Yara, trying to determine if she could be trusted with the information she now held. Which was fairly rote, and expected if all was to be considered.

Yet still the Bard continued with her sentence. “ I know you’re probably itchin’ to get out of this place. I am too quite frankly, but to be completely honest having a Wizard around is pretty handy so it seems. So, would you like to join me in investigating the cause of our lakeside skirmish?”

Yara was of course, too intrigued, concerned, and excited to be on another path to say no.