|
"Oh gods." Isabel moans, looking thoroughly green. "I hate ships. We're walking back. I don't care how long it takes, we're walking back!"
It turns out that for all her travels, all the tales of adventure and all her supernatural gifts that Isabel is a terrible sailor. She turned green before Magnimar was out of sight and she's been at the ships railings ever since.
Not being foolish enough to wear her new - and quite heavy - armor while travelling on an ocean-going vessel, Fallende is outfitted in a rather smart looking tunic and trousers that accentuate her long limbs and lean muscles as she approaches Isabel. The elf seems quite at home on the swaying deck.
"So, not a fan of high-seas travel, I take it?" she asks with a smirk, leaning up against the worn wood and giving Isabel a grin. "I was tempted to offer you a sample of the roasted brussel sprouts that the cook is preparing for dinner, but then I realized that that would simply be cruelty for the sake of cruelty."
Reaching into a small pouch at her waist, she produces a couple of small brown spheres - candy - one of which she pops into her mouth. The other, she holds out to her seasick companion.
"le gingembre - ginger. It will help settle your stomach," she says.
|
|
Isabel spares the elf a glower at the mention of food and then heaves over the side - fruitlessly, since everything in her stomach went into the sea hours ago.
When she finally stops she takes the candy without really comprehending what it is and then nearly heaves again as it goes into her mouth. But then, miraculously, her stomach begins to settle somewhat and she slumps to the deck, looking utterly exhausted.
"Why are you such a b+#+$ most of the time?" She asks, apparently too tired to beat around the bush. "Just because you're an elf doesn't make you better than us."
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Fallende chuckles.
"All the subtlety of a human, yet you are clearly only part human. I can only imagine how crude you would be if something else wasn't diluting your human nature."
"You have been blessed with physical attractiveness. Unfortunately, that means that you have spent your short life being surrounding by those that, because of your beauty, ... how is it said? They kiss your arse?"
She chuckles again.
"But since I am not swayed by such things and make no effort to ... " she purses her lips and makes kissing sounds, "it is no surprise that you see me as a 'b~$+#'." She shakes her head. "What a strange term. To equate a woman with a female dog and it is seen as an insult. But I digress. You simply need to surround yourself with more people that see the real you. The 'you' behind the oh-so-pretty face and attractive curves. More ... 'b%!*@es' ... around you would improve your life."
Charlotte comes up from the cramped cabin where she was mixing an elixir to help Bel's poor stomach. Her feet stop as she sees two of her companions, Talking, and making kissing motions. Luckily, the cabin door is far enough away that she is not immediately noticed, so she decides Bel looks better and that there is that book on biocultural epidemiology she brought with her that will not read itself.
So she heads back below deck.
|
|
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
"No." Bel replies, her eyes half closed. "You're the shallow one. I've not always been like this - I'm as human as they come and it's a recent thing. I found an artifact and it changed me physically. If you'd known me before - there was no arse-kissing then. Most people didn't notice me. Not rich, not pretty, not worth their time. You're the one who looked and decided that I'm a pretty blonde so I must be silly, have had an easy life and not understand anything."
She pulls an eye open to squint up at the tall elf. "Thank you for the ginger. Next time, don't assume you know everything. That's what makes you a b!&@$."
Most ship captains are reluctant to sail too close to the Lady’s Light, because of a combination of superstition about the towering statue and the more physical threat of the numerous reefs that surround the area, but Sheila supllies you with the name of a ship captained by one of her contacts—the Wanton Ways. Sheila drafts a note that secures you passage aboard the Wanton Ways to the Lady’s Cape, but you'll need to put ashore just north of the cape itself and walk the last bit to the region to avoid the treacherous reefs. Taking a ship to the Lady’s Cape is a mere day’s journey.
The hooklike peninsula that makes up the area around the Lady’s Light is a combination of relatively open salt marsh, thickly vegetated swampland, and a few hilly regions. You take a rowboat from the Wanton Ways to get to land before the ship carries on to Korvosa.
As you walk south through the muggy swamp, you spot a rickety-looking bridge crossing a creek to a small island where a lone hut sits. The bridge leading to the isle is decorated with bleached humanoid skulls with weird sigils painted on them in crusty, reddish-brown dried blood. The hut sits at the center of the small island, a mossy wooden shack with a sagging roof sitting in the shade of a few moss-draped willows. A plume of smoke wafts from a chimney, and cooking smells pervade the area, though the odor is not altogether pleasant.
"I would never claim that I know everything - that is my sister's job," Fallende replies with a smirk. "And, perhaps, I am wrong about you. But I will honestly say that you would be the first human that I've had dealings with that wasn't a short-sighted, petty, grasping infant with no more self-awareness than a cairn-stone."
"But if I am wrong and you are such a wise and wonderful person then why isn't our lovely lady Charlotte out here comforting you in your time of trial? Perhaps your company is not so desirable after all."
She detaches the pouch containing the candy at her waist and drops it onto the deck next to Isabel.
"Instead, your only companion is the 'b%%+&y' elf."
She shrugs, turns and walks away, her hips swaying along with the ship.
~~~
Her nose wrinkling at the cooking odor, Fallende shades her eyes and looks around once again before setting out across the bridge towards the hut.
She has donned her new armor which proudly bears her family crest on the chest plate. While the lower portions of her legs are stained with the muck of the swamp, the upper portion gleams as if freshly polished.
"Bonjour à celui qui est dans la cabane!" she calls out, announcing herself before approaching the door.
|
|
"She's always there when I need her." Bel murmurs, closing her eyes and taking as deep a breath of salty sea air as she can manage.
-----------------------------
Once back on the solid(-ish) ground, Bel recovers fairly quickly. She's slightly shaky, but the longer she walks the better she seems and by the time Fallende calls out she's well enough to sniff the air and try to work out what's cooking.
After a chapter about conditions related to hormones, Charlotte decides maybe fresh air would be good again. She pokes her head out into the sea breeze and sees the two have separated, with Bel looking miserable again, though maybe in a different way.
"This tonic might help." The doctor hands over a slim clay bottle "There is little more I can do without making you drowsy, and we both know how silly you get when you are..." she frowns "... are you okay, Bel?"
-----------------
The muggy heat doesn't seem to bother her anymore, and the insects seem to avoid her. She'd be happy about both if they didn't remind her of her ever-degrading condition.
At least the hungry mudd trying to eat her boots is normal.
Her ears perk up a little as Fall speaks elven, and she can catch enough words to understand. The veteran of Lastwall doesn't think anyone with this many skulls as decorations will be friendly, but she understands the benefit of drawing an enemy out.
As you approach the hut, a raven squawks loudly and flies down from a willow tree to perch on the shack's roof. A moment alter, a foul-tempered half-orc woman emerges, squinting at you and shaking her staff angrily. One of her eyes is a milky white.
"Who be you fools? I’ve always room in my stew pot for more meat, you know. Unless you want to join the turnips in my soup, get off my island!"
"I am Fallende Westagho," the elf responds, switching to Taldane. "My companions and I are on a pilgrimage to visit the Lady's Light. We have no wish to intrude upon your lovely home and are simply seeking the quickest way to the statue."
"Clams." Charlotte says firmly "Clams would be significantly better than with turnips instead of human or elven meat." after that bit of useless information, the doctor softens her voice. "We are not here to disturb you. The quicker we can get to the stature and back the quicker we will be out of your way."
|
|
"I hate boats." Bel replies softly. "Really, really hate them. I want to sleep on the way back. ALL the way back. Thanks Lottie." She uncorks the bottle with shaky hands but then drinks it back in one motion before making a face.
"Eww, that doesn't go with ginger!" She mutters before squinting back up at her friend. "I think I told Fall she was a b~&+@." She continues a moment later.
------------------------------------
The others have the conversation, such as it is, so Isabel stays at the back with Wesley, although when Lottie mentions clams she turns a remarkable shade of green and steps away from her companion with a distressed look on her face.
"Hmph. The Lady seems to be a popular place these days. If you're heading there, you'd best be careful," the woman grunts. She leans on her staff before elaborating further:
"The xulgaths and boggards have bickered over control of the Lady’s Cape for years. They’re pretty evenly matched if you ask me. I’ve bloodied their noses when they’ve stuck them in my business, so for the most part they’ve let me be—that’s what the skulls and artwork on my bridge are for.
“But then, a few months back, we had some new visitors. A troop of women knights or something, clad in plate and wearing red-plumed helms. Their leader was a woman named Oriana—pretty enough, at least till she took her helmet off and showed off her scars. She told me she and her sisters were from Korvosa, soldiers of the rightful queen who’d been tumbled off the throne a few years back. They’d had to flee the city once their queen wasn’t in charge, and fell into mercenary work until Oriana got the idea to plunder the Lady’s Light for the treasure they think’s hidden inside of it. Made me chuckle a bit, since I’ve heard there’s secret rooms in the Lady filled with treasure too. I’ve tried to find a way into the place before—there’s caves under the area that are supposed to connect to the chambers below the Light, but those caves belong to the trogs and frogs and bigger critters. I didn’t get far, and since then I’ve steered clear of the Light—the b$~~~ gives me the willies, anyway. Some powerful magic going on in there.
“Anyway, Oriana was intent on getting under the Lady’s skirts, and she asked me if I knew a way in. I told her about the caves and warned her of the trogs ’n frogs, but that didn’t seem to bother her. Unlike me, she had herself a whole group of ironclad soldiers to back her up, after all. So off she goes, and damned if she and her mercenaries don’t make friendly with the frogs! Got them some better weapons, gave them some fighting tips, and then helped them launch an attack on the trogs. In return, the frogs gave her permission to use their tunnels.
“But here’s the kicker. Oriana found a way inside the Lady—or at least she says so. She came my way ten days ago with a story that she’d found none other than the Runelord of Lust herself in there, and that the runelord had recruited Oriana to help her reclaim her lands and rebuild her kingdom! Oriana asked me to join their crusade! I politely refused and wished her well and she went on her way. Gods above an’ below, I couldn’t get her out of my hut quick enough!
“The way I see it, there’s three possibilities. First, Oriana is lying, for whatever reason. The second, Oriana, sad child, is off her nut. And the third, someone or something in there is masquerading as Sorshen the Grand Whore of Thassilon and has tricked Oriana into being her minion. Well, I suppose there’s a fourth possibility—that Sorshen really is alive and well in the Lady’s Light, but if you believe that claptrap, there’s a bridge across the Straits of Aroden I’d like to sell ya!”
"Think? you called her that?" Charlotte said with a sliver of amusement. "And how did she react to that?"
---------------
Charlotte was surprised at how much the hermit woman talked. "Battles to tend to frequent blows to the head, which could cause persistent confusion. But if she has an army with her it is best to assume all she says is true"
"Or, at the very least, assume that she believes that it is true," Fallende adds with a shrug.
"Lust is a poor weapon against a properly wielded blade, though. We should see for ourselves whether it is all as it appears."
|
|
"Like a stuck up b#~#+." Bel replies, managing a ghost of a smile. "Something about me being too pretty but only she can see through it and be honest to me." She takes Lottie's hand and tugs weakly until the doctor sits down next to her, and then leans sideways until her head is in Lottie's lap and her eyes close.
"I knew you'd be here when I needed you." She murmurs just before consciousness slips away all together.
---------------------------------------------------
Thankfully the witch speaks at such length that Isabel makes it back for the most important part of the conversation, although she stays on the periphery.
Fall's comment about Lust makes her smirk (and reaffirms in her mind that the elf has no idea about such things) so she's actually in a better mood as the group approaches the lighthouse proper.
"Always" Charlotte whispers to the softly breathing pretty one in her lap, as she lightly brushes a lock of golden hair out of her friend's face and over an ear. A slight frown then takes her lips, and she almost adds 'Until I'm not me anymore' but saying that out loud was too real.
Fallende returns to the deck some time later to find the duo still sitting at the railing.
... well, Charlotte is sitting and Isabel is sleeping with her head in the girl's lap.
Ignoring the sailors going about their business as they ignore the passengers, she approaches the quite pair.
"I'm glad you two finally have realized your truth," she says softly, squatting down on the deck next to Charlotte. Keeping her voice low as to not wake the sleeping aasimar, she continues, "You will be good for her." She grins. "You are a capable and attractive woman, ma chérie, and I would be untruthful to declare myself free from la jalousie. Keep me in mind if you find that your destiny is not with her."
She touches her lips with her fingertips and then with those same fingers, lightly presses them to Charlotte's own lips before rising back to her feet to gaze out over the waves.
Charlotte's eyes are held by the elf's, conflicting emotions dancing across their darkness, but as Fall's stands to go, her hand shoots out to grab the warrior's.
Neither are under the illusion that Fall couldn't break that grip with ease, but the uncharacteristic aggressive behavior of the doctor was enough to at least give pause.
As much as it flatters and floors her that either of these women have an interest in her, she admits "I'm... not an option. For either of you" she adds the last bit softly, with a resigned hurt in her eyes. A hurt that flares, after galncing at her friend then back up to Fall, into imploring "Be nice to her, please, she... can be brittle. Much more than she lets on."
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
"Who holds the chains to your heart, ma chérie?" the elf asks, her hand turning and taking Charlotte's in her own. "I will stand against all the demons of the abyss for you."
Charlotte opened her mouth, her hidden anguish so close, on the tip of her soft tongue. (literally since a slight groove had started to form, which she believed would result in a fork). Then movement made her eyes dart about, seeing the sailors that Fall was ignoring much better than her.
Closing her eyes for a moment, she thought, always finding it easier to do so in the comfort of her own mind. Once she told her, then it would be over. Charlotte expected that, and despite hating it, she knew it was for the best.
"You deserve to know" as did Wes, but one at a time "Not here, please." the silken mop of blonde hair in her lap stirred slightly, but Charlotte didn't expect her to awaken anytime soon the way she chugged that tonic. She hadn't had time to explain she prepared five doses in that bottle "Could you carry her down to our cabin? Then I will explain."
With no discernable effort whatsoever, she slips her arms under Isabel's knees and arms and lifts her to her petite chest.
"After you, ma chérie," she says, indicating the door to to the cabins with her elegant chin.
Moving into the darkened confines of the passengers' quarters, Fallende places Isabel gently on the bunk that was assigned to her. Still neatly made, having not been used due to Isabel's bout with seasickness, Fallende, nevertheless, makes sure the sleeping woman is comfortable before taking a seat on her own bunk and raising a prompting eyebrow at Charlotte.
Charlotte watched the gentleness Fall showed to Bel, with silent interest, and a deep pang that she felt disturbingly was of envy.
"My parents were much like most of the Chelixian nobility, wishing power and turning to the infernal for it. They were unwilling to risk themselves, so they had a child to do it for them." Charlotte was resigned, so told the story flatly as she could. Her hands moved over her fitted vest considering. "Once I was of age, they used a... variety of methods..." her voice deadened to such a degree, there was no doubt those methods were not pleasant. "... that resulted, eventually, in my signature." she wasn't looking at Fall, instead she had decided showing was the easiest way to prove what was happening.
Her dark brown leather was over a heavy smock, which would mean revealing a lot to reveal a little, so with a sigh, she turned away from her, grasping the back of her skirts, and pulling them up carefully to limit what was shown.
"Since then I have been... changing" the fabric rose alarmingly, but pressed together in a tunnel, until a slim coffee colored tail slipped out, moving around nervously.
"Not a demon, but a devil. The one I will become." Charlotte looked over her shoulder at the elf, knowing what she would see, and facing it none the less.
When their eyes meet over the girl's shoulder, Fallende rises from her bunk and approaches the young woman.
"So you are changing in ton corps ..." she says, reaching out to gently grasp Charlotte's shoulder. She turns her around to face the elf. "But are you changing in ton esprit ...?" Her hand moves over to rest gently between Charlotte's breasts. "In here?" She smiles, looking down into the girl's eyes. "Because to me, if you are still you then cela m’est égal - it matters not to me. And I have little doubt that it matters not to Isabel."
The skirts fall, the shame hidden again, then the hope flares brightly as she stares up into those lovely eyes... until that question 'in here?', then Fallende sees only crushing despair as Lady Charlotte Plumth nods in answer.
For a moment, it is almost too much, the weight of it, bearing down, suffocating. The dark eyes water, the soft face caving, for that moment a heart wrenching sob is about to break free. Then she takes in a breath, so ragged it is like she is ripping it from the air. She calms, dragging a palm over her eye to clear away a tear.
"I don't know how much time I have left, so I am trying to... help in any way, before I do wish to any more"
As she pulls away, she pauses and her large green eyes stray down to rest on the woman's lips for a heart beat. The moment then passes and she turns and strides away with purpose.
Ships are noisy. Sailors upon sailors, moving around overhead, creaks of wood, shouts or jests constantly, even a shanty or two. All punctuated with a dropped tool to thud like a cannon onto the deck. Not to mention the constant slushing of water supplies, ropes and tack, the rolling of unsettled writing implements. Then there were the waves, relentlessly patting the sides of the vessel like a group of overeager grandmoms. Never taking the hit to give the poor child's cheeks a break.
Point is: Ships are FILLED with sounds.
Then why could Charlotte only hear the breath of an elf, So close, like warm velvet against her face?
And her heart, of course, which was Thunder. Pure blessed Thunder.
Charlotte was concerned, from a medical point of view, that this amount of vigorous heart beating, producing such an abundance of blood pumping through her, would cause bruising from head to toe.
But it felt SO good. Proper good, not middling good. The likes of which she has only felt Once, and that was... oh...
Her eyes looked away from the swaying walk of a stunning elf, which did nothing to settle one's heart at all.
To Bel. Sleeping (well drugged), her friend, whose lips had done this to her just days ago.
As two tidal waves of conflicting wants crashed into her, Charlotte decided to sit her bottom, quite slowly, on her bunk. Her tail curled automatically to nestle comfortably between her legs. She pulled her knees up, wrapped her arms around them, her chin on their peaks, and sighed "Oh Bel, Fall, what should I do?" the doctor whispered in a mess.
The witch draws you a simple map of the region that gives the locations of her hut, the Lady’s Light, the boggard village, and the locations of the three caves that lead to the tunnels under the region. She knows the northern cave is the primary troglodyte den, and that the southern one is claimed by the boggards—she’s not sure what’s living in the cave between them, but it’s something big and mean from what she’s heard in the region—enough so that she hasn’t felt the urge to investigate any more closely.
Once you depart, you continue south along the path towards the southern end of the peninsula where the Lady's Light stands. You haven't gone too far before you come upon a battlefield. Scattered upon the ground are obvious signs of carnage, and the vile reek of rot mixed with a pungent reptilian stink assaults the nostrils like a hammer’s blow. Buzzards wheel in the sky above while clouds of flies buzz below. At least three dozen decomposing humanoid bodies lie strewn across the ground here, reptilian and amphibian in form. The reptilian bodies have all been decapitated—the heads are nowhere in evidence. The corpses have been ransacked of any valuables.
|
|
"So this Oriana is in league with frogmen..." Isabel says, trying not to look at the bodies or breathe too deeply. "So do we seek out their enemies for an alliance or try to make our own deal with them now that we know they're open to such things?"
She stops pinching her nose for a moment and regrets it.
"Either way, lets keep moving while we decide!"
Fallende's delicate nose wrinkles just slightly, but that's the only reaction she shows to the displayed carnage.
"I would rather not make deals with either of these groups, but we will see if that is even a possibility. Yes, let us keep moving."
When they can no longer advance without a choice being made, the elf suggests the central cave.
"Negotiations with either group is undoubtably fraught with hazards to overcome. I would feel better with a much more direct approach. If we deal with whatever is in the central cave we can, hopefully, avoid those hazards."
The smell does not bother Charlotte, having spent too many of her days around the dead and the dying at Lastwall. She kneels to investigate the bodies, just to get an idea of the weapons used.
Then she rises, cleaning off her hands, and joins the others. "The center is a good choice." she agrees. Not JUST because she herself can't seem to choose a side.
Charlotte discovers a few primitively made and damaged arrows, spears, and clubs around the battlefield, as well as a broken dagger of decidedly finer craftmanship. The dagger's hilt bears the seal of the city of Korvosa.
A short distance ahead, the path splits. The xulgath caves are to the north, while the boggard village is further west. South is the cave occupied by the unknown monster, so that is the direction that you head.
A wide cave entrance yawns at the base of a stony outcropping overlooking a wide bog. The cave is nearly forty feet wide and twenty feet high, and slopes up into darkness. A wide assortment of bones lies scattered about in front of the cave itself, and here and there something shiny glitters among the bones.
Ignoring the shinys, Fallende steps towards the cave entrance, her blade slipping easily into her hands. Her green eyes glitter with anticipation as she enters the shadowed entrance.
An investigation of the bones reveals that most are boggard or animal bones, and all have bite marks from sharp fangs. Several bits of treasure lie strewn about the cave mouth haphazardly, but it will take several minutes to dig through the the shallow mud to find it all.
As Fallende enters the cave, she hears hissing noises from deeper within. A moment later, an immense serpentine beast slithers from around a curve in the tunnel ahead! The many-headed monster bares its myriad fangs as it moves to attack!
Seeing a creature that seemed mostly mouths and teeth charging toward Fall, made the brimstone inside her ignite, sending fire to burn the enemy.
The creature dodges the fire ray as it charges at Fallende. It attacks with its many heads, overwhelming the elf with multiple attacks and leaving almost nowhere to dodge!
With the amount of damage Fall received, Charlotte tries her best to heal her with magic.
Fallende actually laughs at the beast, ignoring the bites that heal under Charlotte's regenerative magic.
"Tu es une beauté effrayante!" she shouts as she strikes.
Fallende lands an intimidating strike on the hydra, leaving it shaken. That allows Isabel to score a solid hit, exploiting her personal anathema against it. Wesley casts a haste spell on Fallende while Charlotte heals the elf.
The many-headed monster's wounds start to regenerate before your eyes! It makes another focused assault on Fallende, biting her with many fangs!
"Try to cut off its heads to stop it from regenerating!" Wesley shouts encouragingly.
"Cut off its heads?" Fallende questions in puzzlement. With a cry of attack, she attempts to follow through with Wesley's request.
Charlotte tries to keep up with the damage being done to Fall.
Both Fallende and Isabel succeed at slicing off one of the hydra's heads! Wesley hurls a glob of acid at the beast, the sizzling splash cauterizing the stumps to ensure no new heads will grow.
The monsters three remaining heads hiss and growl as they bite at Fallende.
Fallende laughs again, reveling in the exhilaration of combat. Her joy carries little weight, though, as she misses the creature entirely.
Charlotte frowns slightly, wondering why Fall seems to be playing with the overgrown mutated turnip. (and No, no one is allowed to ask why Charlotte equates a hydra to a turnip). The doctor has slivers of worry and doubt at the melodious echoes of the laughter.
But Bell at least seems to be serious about cutting the thing down, SHE is strangely quiet though as well. Anxiety breeds Anxiety it seems.
Feeling like burning something at that moment, the smoke billows around her, and a sickly fire spears through the cavern at the hydra.