While the rest of the group who actually had the stones to stay in the sewer did their work, the cowardly, grieving elf was still curled up in a seated fetal position out in back of the group's last inn, sobbing her eyes out. The hour had grown quite late and before long a female half-orc appeared at her left shoulder, tapping the elf's quiver to get her attention. Ceria turned her head and peeked up at the half-orc through her blonde mane and tear-stricken face; she saw a tusked emerald snout looking back at her with concern.
"It's not safe here, miss. Not at this hour. Please come with me."Ceria looked up at the orcish female, her eyes red and raw, chin quivering. In nary a whisper from all that crying, she replied,
"Y-y-yes, y-y-you're r-right. Ok." Without questioning the stranger's motives, the elf woodenly got to her feet, pick up her bow and hold it limply in one hand as she trudged off after the stranger slowly. The logical part of her mind wondered why she wasn't more suspicious of this person, but the other part, the part still buried in grief and flooded with anger, told her to go shove it and let the world do to her what it wanted.
The half-orc began to lead Ceria down side streets that the elf had never seen. In fact, from the winding path she took, cutting through back alleys and narrow passages, Ceria could be certain most of Bourgund had never traversed these roads. As they traveled, the woman introduced herself as Matilda, a newly arrived shopkeeper from the Magocracy.
Ceria moped along, swiping viciously at her eyes here and there, wondering what her party members were doing about D....she couldn't even bear to finish the thought as she choked back the lump that appeared in her throat as she vaguely heard the orc introduce herself.
The half-orc leads Ceria to a small apartment, seemingly uninterested in making much further conversation at this time. Once inside the apartment, the woman locks the doors and points to a worn green chair.
"Have a seat," she says kindly but gruffly.
"You look like you could use some tea."Ceria looks around the small apartment, pupils dilating and heart accelerating. This woman was just a shopkeeper? What had she been doing poking around the backside of a tavern this late at night? The elf eyed the chair suspiciously, then decided it would be rude if she didn't sit. Ceria slings her bow onto her back, keeping one hand on the hilt of one of her daggers, and perches herself carefully on the arm of the chair closest to the door.
"I like tea," she whispers a trifle hoarsely.
Matilda moves to a room nearby, and Ceria can hear the clanging of a kettle being set on a stove.
"Be just a moment," she calls out, although you are pretty sure she can hear about anything you say or do from the room.
A few moments passed and the tea was brought out in a chipped yellow mug. The half-orc sat down in a wooden chair opposite Ceria.
"Rough day, huh? And here I was about to complain to myself about rowdy customers. Looks like you've got it worse."Ceria gently takes the mug. Roughly five seconds later, she cradles an empty mug in her hands and she's feeling the tea burble its warm bittersweet way down her throat, chasing that homeless person's beer and helping to rescue some of her lost clarity. "Yes ma'am," she replied softly. She paused for a moment, unsure how much to reveal to a complete stranger; also wondering if she should've checked that tea for poison, but quickly dismissing the latter notion.
"I....I just lost a friend. And I don't make those easily." Her voice hitched midway through the last word and she clutched the yellow mug tighter.
"Two friends actually," she adds, softly stamping a foot on the floor and making the chair rock a bit in protest.
"Me neither," the woman replied. "Never a good day to lose a friend. But would he have wanted you to mope about it, or to move forward, hm?" The half-orc took a sip of her own tea.
"I don't know who your friend is, so maybe he would want that. Most of my friends wouldn't have, but then, a lot of my friends are orcs." The woman shrugged.(edited)
Ceria looked down at her pale hands holding the mug. She rubbed a thumb over the chip, noticing it for the first time.
"Well one friend, I had known her for awhile, but she left because she saw that I was a coward. Then, a little while after, my other friend, she.....she got caught up in this.....thing and....she didn't escape in time. I did my best, but she....she didn't make it. I can't help thinking that it's all my fault that Arth.....wasn't there to maybe have saved my second f-friend in time!" The elf's sniffles returned and she stifled them by putting the empty mug down in the chair and burying her face in her hands.
"Daisy's dead now and I couldn't save her. She had so much to live for," the girl absently mumbled through her fingers.
Looking back up and out the window, she finished,
"She was so full of life, always singing and happy. She always seemed to know her place in the world. It made you feel grounded just to know that she knew who she was and what her purpose was, even if you didn't. You don't know how much you ch-cherish s-something until it's gone."Matilda nodded in understanding.
"I had someone like that too. A daughter of mine. She was taken from me, and I couldn't do anything. So now I make things for people. Seems that they aren't too happy to see me around here though..." Ceria briefly recalled that General Aengus had mentioned a half-orc artificer as a person of interest in the case.
Ceria's gaze slid from the window over to the half-orc. The elf seemed to solidify, becoming more sure of herself, as the combination of tea and a peaceful environment did wonders to take her mind, if temporarily, off the soul-crushing sadness.
"I've never had children, but we elves value them as cherished above all else in nature. I am so sorry for your loss, ma'am. I too notice that people seem to be a bit....put off by outsiders in this area. Anyway, enough about me, what kinds of things do you make?" She brushed a lock of her recently windblown blonde hair behind a pointed ear.
The half-orc brightened a bit, warming to the topic of her craft even at the late hour. "Various wondrous items. For example, the teapot that brewed this tea has some interesting powers. It should cheer you up in a while."
(Interpretation: Ceria can gain advantage on any d20 roll you make in the next 24 hours)Ceria looks down at the tea, the logical part of her mind flaring up to mentally yell:
you KNEW she put SOMETHING in this tea! You deserve this, moron! The darker part of her mind yelled back just as silently:
I don't care. Instead, Ceria paused to attempt to find the right words.
"Ahh, of course it's the tea. And here I thought it was my sparkling conversation skills." How the heck did she just make a joke? Whatever was in that tea was strong stuff. Keeping her tone surprisingly light, she asked,
"I mostly dealt in furs and hides as a hunter. I've never traded in teas much. What brew is this, chamomile?"The half-orc chuckled quietly.
"It's actually the kettle itself," she replied.
"But do not worry. I have no plans to harm you. If I did, I would have left you in the streets for those fish folk to take you."Ceria's eyes widened.
"You know of them? Would you please be willing to tell me anything you know about them?" A cold hard edge appeared in the elf's demeanor as grief's wicked and gnarled hands stirred a pot of revenge beneeath her breast.
The half-orc raised an eyebrow.
"Is that what happened to your friend?" she asked.
"I'm afraid I haven't found out much myself. They are part of some cult that has been poisoning people in the streets around here. Once in a while, they abduct someone. I'm not so good with religions, but it's not one I've ever heard of. I recommend finding some more friends if you go after them though.""Well," Ceria responded, sobering up a bit again despite the effects of the magic kettle.
"It seems fate has brought me here for a reason. I might as well tell you the whole truth. My two friends, Daisy, Arthera, and I, were charged to look into all the people this supposed "Cult of Zahir" was murdering. In the last forty-eight hours, our group has been literally charred and nearly roasted by a newling baby dragon-of-sorts, ensnared by two fish folk magicians, attacked by a goliath and his band of bandits, and finally we lost Daisy, the....the life of the g-g-group...to a stupid square of s-s-slime that just s-s-sucked her in!" Ceria squeezed her eyes shut and her hands into fists until her knuckles went white and her face turned beet red, though it remained reasonably dry this time thanks to the tea's e(ffects.
"Sounds like a gelatinous cube," Matilda replied.
"Those are nasty fellers. What about the rest of your friends? Don't they need you?"Ceria sighed and her gaze slid back over to the window, eyes turning glassy.
"I've always known death was out there. Goodness knows, I've hunted animals and creatures before, but this is the first time I've ever lost someone so.....close. Daisy was the light and the glue of our group. To have her ripped out of our lives so suddenly......I just dont know if I can handle it." She covered her face with her hands in despair.
"To the rest of them, I'm just a nobody," she muttered.
"Want to know a secret?" The half-orc leaned forward to whisper to Ceria.
"No one can. Even if they look like they're handling it better. Death hurts, and those who aren't affected... well, they've just seen too much to have a soul anymore. If you think that your friend held the group together, I suggest trying to step up and be the light she would want ya to be, hm? From what you describe, I don't think she'd want you running away when your friends need you the most.""No!" Ceria punches her knees violently.
"NO! First, I need all the info you can give me on those fish folk so I can bring those bastards to justice before any more Daisies get hurt.""I already told you what I know," Matilda replied, setting her tea down on a nearby coffee table.
"But I can tell you one more thing. The fish won't stop biting your friends just because you run off. In fact, you might have been able to protect them. If you're not there, what use are you to them?"Now Ceria's hands went upward instead of downward.
"They have a dwarf and a gnome now! I'm sure they're all getting along just famously while they emotionlessly bury my dead friend and murder everyone who opposes them! Me? A leader? I can't even make the right decisions for myself let alone a group of people and some of them know that now. I'm sure those same people are glad I ran away."Matilda shrugged in response.
"Perhaps they are. I don't know your friends. On the other hand, they could all have died because you deserted them. Or they might be fine. There's one thing I know for sure: they'd be better off with your bow, whether you lead them or not."Another sigh emanated from the elf, visibly deflating.
"Who am I kidding? You're right. I've been a coward. So we've already been to and under the giant church. Do you have any other leads or information, even rumors, on where the fish folk might be hiding out? The people who hired us might be willing to compensate you for the information. Even if they didn't, I'd be willing to share my take with you in return for this hospitality you've shown me.. Or do you have anything for sale that might help dissuade them?""Hmm..." The half-orc thought for a moment, staring down into her tea.
"I'm afraid you know more about these fish folk than I have been able to figure out. I had my eyes on that church for a couple of days, but I never saw anything suspicious until tonight's display of the front door burning, but I assume you knew about that already. Then again, I am busy most of the day, and very few people seem to trust me, so I am afraid I haven't gotten very far in my investigation."She stood and retrieved a handbag she had been carrying, then set it down in front of her.
"I may have a few items, although I am not sure how much use you can get from them." Reaching into the bag, she pulled out what appeared to be a withered branch.
"If you say the keyword, this branch will provide food and comfort for ten people in a day. It works off a spell that many rangers and druids have used: Goodberry, if you have heard of it. It only works once a day, but it is useful on long marches to stave off hunger, and after a battle to keep your friends healthy."Ceria nodded, striving to keep a neutral trader face as she looked the small branch over. She had heard rumors of its existence, but she'd always thought that the Goodberry branch would be....bigger.
"Well,it's not my friend's healing touch, but I suppose if that's all you have. at this ungodly hour of the night" The young elf scooched around and into the chair to sling her pack partway off her shoulder for her meager pouch of currency. She looked up expectantly at the half-orc with one "paw" in the tiny purse and tilted her head with the implied question. That tea seemed to be making her way more cavalier than she'd ever imagined herself being.
"80 gold for this item," the lady replied. "And them I have this..." She reached into the bag again, pulling out what appeared to be a longbow.
"A friend of mine made this weapon. Tapping this switch here swaps the weapon to a staff, winding the string away so it is no longer in your way and stiffening the wood to avoid breaking it. This one is a bit more expensive at 150 gp, but it's worth every copper."
MDespite her best efforts at remaining neutral, the second the half-orc matron pulled out the shimmering cobalt blue longbow, Ceria's lips formed a small, perfect "o" through which naught but the smallest intake of air could be heard.
"Umm......it can switch back from staff to bow, right?" she asked tentatively.
"Just hit the button again," Matilda replied, demonstrating its use. The bow shimmered lightly as string unwound itself and created a bow with the perfect amount of tension.
"She called it a Bowstaff."Ceria hesitated. On the one hand, she could easily afford the incredibly useful, once-a-day stick of healing that would serve the needs of her and her party for as long as they could need emergency nourishment and healing. On the other hand, if she hadn't been so generous paying for her comrades at the inn, she could have bought this beautiful object without having to resort to haggling. This shopkeeper certainly knew how to distract others of her gender alright.
A chill ran down her spine as if she were being watched. Ceria wondered if her tiefling friend had somehow followed her mad flighty dash across town and was somehow influencing her decision. What would Daisy want me to pick? she wondered. Daisy's healing touch had been one of Ceria's best memories of her. But on the other hand, she could avenge Daisy soooo much more easily with a replacement for her old handcrafted bow.
After a long minute of studying the two items, Ceria looked up to the heavens and mouthed an elvish prayer to Daisy and whatever benevolent gods were listening:
"I'd....like....to offer.....125 gold pieces and a hunting dagger for the bowstaff please..""Hmm... toss in your old bow, and we have a deal," the half-orc replied.
Ceria looked down at the bow that had served her for nearly half a decade. She had to buy herself a proper weapon at some point. Patting the bow, she handed it, one of her two daggers, and the 125 gold pieces over to the half-orc one at a time.
"I graciously accept. Thank you"Ceria takes the bowstaff and rests it on her palms, feeling the weight. Closing her eyes, she says serenely,
"I name thee in my own tongue, Ephola. Memory. May you serve with me well.""Hopefully it's worthy of the name," Matilda replied.
"You are welcome to take a nap on my couch, or perhaps you can return to aid your friends if they are still fighting."Ceria flashes a tiny, tentative smile for the first time in a long time.
"It's got to be getting pretty late at this point. I should probably get going so I don't miss my group's return from sewer diving." She couldn't even finish her sentence before yawning expansively in spite of herself, though she covered her mouth to be polite.
"On second thought, the corner right by the door looks cozy enough. I'll just rest there until right before dawn, then try to arrive back at the inn before my comrades wake up.....provided they even returned to the same inn that is. If they didn't, then I guess it's off with me to report my news of the fish folk and wait for them t o do the same!" With that, Ceria got up, crossed to the space next to the door, propped her back up against said door with Ephola propped up on the wall carefully next to her, and entered her elvish waking dreams quicker than she ever thought possible. She naturally relived getting roasted by the drake and seeing Daisy get sucked in by the slime, and then herself getting sucked into the slime and then Daisy getting lit aflame. It was all one horrendous nightmare that had tears leaking silently down her cheeks until just before dawn when a new "dream" appeared straight out of the deepest parts of her imagination, likely in an unconscious effort to cheer her up. She and Daisy got sucked into the gelatinous cube together for what seemed like a timeless eternity and the experience was of a decidedly, shockingly, pleasurable nature.
In retrospect, she had never remotely considered the possibility of romance with anyone, male or female. She hadn't realized until too late that the tiefling had seemed to care for Ceria more than just a friend. Or perhaps this was just her imagination running wild, trying to scrounge up and preserve as many happy memories of Daisy as possible - and even create new fantastical ones - to outweigh the grief.
The young wood elf rose from her seated resting position at the crack of dawn feeling the most invigorated and well-rested that she had in years. The sadness was still there at the edge of her mind like a dark stormfront, but somehow the Memory now in her hands, Ephola, helped nudge that sadness aside and revert to a fierce determination to continue the original mission. Though the sadness had been - at least temporarily - tamed, the fires of revenge did not simmer in her heart as she made her way back out into the city and retraced her steps back towards the inn to see if the group had returned.
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Banned
