Delilah's Diary--The Hidden Knife Parts 1-2

It has been a long while since I wrote--much too long. I am sitting in the cave of a witch after having enjoyed a rather pleasant meal. It would have been more pleasant if all body parts were present and accounted for for all my companions--or, at least, if the witch's cats would stop licking the blood off Wigolas' boot--but I suppose one doesn't start a quest of this sort without being prepared for both terrible creatures and the mud. If it weren't for the eye, I wouldn't be sure which was worse. But, all things considered... maybe the mud isn't as bad as I thought. Maybe.

But I am getting ahead of myself. It all began a few days ago. We'd spent some time resting up after the battle with the demon, and were all doing much better. (I should mention that that this is where the dream from the previous entry took place). We spent some time debating what to do next, as we each had reasons to go various different places. However, with most ideas we ran into the problem of money. There simply wasn't much to go around. After the dreams I had I decided to try not keeping any gold on my person, so I gave my money to Tristan. But even with that there simply wasn't enough to finance a group expedition.

 We spent some time looking for jobs and came up with a few options. There was the man--Oakwood--who claimed the Witch of the Woods had stolen 20 years of his life (Wigolas was certain this meant there was a child involved, though we tried to explain that he was saying the witch had stolen 20 literal years--not that he'd had to spend 20 years raising a child). Then there was another request for an adventurer to find a hidden fragment of a star. The final request--and the farthest away--was from Mirable for us to find a box that had been hidden long ago--but she cautioned us to not let Tristan look inside it. I remained strangely quiet while the rest of the party debated where to go. I had reasons for wanting to avoid the woods, but considering it was only a dream.... hopefully... leaving the matter up to Phex to decide was sufficient. They decided upon the Witch of the Woods. So be it.

With Anvar to guide us, we set off. It was miserable going. The mud, the rain, just tramping mile after mile, ugggh. Tikkani didn't seem bothered at all--or Tristan's new friend Thorwald. (Outside of hating each other, they are quite the pair. Hmmm.) Tristan didn't comment on being uncomfortable, nor did Elenwe. But... I may have a somewhat kindred spirit in Wigolas--at least as far as anything outside the city goes. He looked even more miserable than I felt.

After the first couple days I caught sight of torches in the distance. Elenwe and I went on to scout out what they were--and we found a small party of orcs with a little man beaten and tied up as a captive. I felt pretty confident that we could set him free without them noticing, but unfortunately my confidence was proved wrong. Elenwe did the call of the owl that we had agreed on (By which I mean, Tristain asked us to hoot like a particular breed of owl if we saw one thing, or another breed if we saw something else. I didn't know owls came in breeds? Or that they sounded different? In fact, I'm not entirely sure whether it sounded like an owl at all. But at least we hooted. I'm pretty sure Tristan--and possibly Wigolas, who seemed to know exactly what he was talking about--was just trying to play a practical joke, and had a bad sense of timing).

At any rate, the orcs caught sight of us, and the hiding game was up. They charged. I know my limitations, and fighting orcs is simply not something I'm very skilled at. So I tried to climb a tree. It.... well, it didn't work. With all the rain the trees were slick and I fell on my face in the mud. It was awful. I assume Elenwe managed to acquit herself well, I couldn't really see at that point. The others showed up just as the orcs were upon us, and the battle ensued. Thorwald and Tikkani seem to be quite good with their weapons. Elenwe kept her bow going. I did manage to pick myself up and pull my saber out--if hiding wasn't an option, I wasn't about to be cut down without a fight--and by the time Tristan rushed to my aid with his flames I had the orc skewered on my saber.

 At that point I snuck over to the the poor little man and set him free, leaving the fight to better equipped individuals (Even Wogolas was plying his club, and managed to finish one of the orcs off!). He was very grateful though not much help. About that time I looked over and saw the final orc riding Wigolas down the mountain side as if he was a sled, pummeling him and biting him as Tikanni and Thorwald teamed up to try to finish the orc off. They were not quite quick enough, however, as the orc did not see the flaming sword that actually ended his frenzy.

Everyone took time to verify that all body parts were properly where they ought to be after the battle, and  Anvar arrived (he had dispatched two other orcs farther on). Tikanni and Thorwald went back for the mules. Together. (I suppose it is best to travel in pairs, but I begin to wonder exactly how much the two of them really "hate" each other... Hmmm). The small man I rescued was a Hill Dwarf name Bennigrim Sweetbread. He noticed me trying to clean myself off in a little muddy hollow, and very kindly offered me two clean pink towels from his pack and a bit of soap. I could have kissed him. Wigolas was chanting something to heal Tristan who had taken a rather nasty wound.

It turned out that Bennigrim was a candy maker on his way to Phexcare when the orcs waylayed him. He gave us some samples, and they were amazing. He and Wigolas seemed to hit it off quite well, and he even gave Wigolas a box of chocolates. After some discussion we decided to send Anvar back to Phexcare to accompany him the following morning and continue on on our own.

That evening after most of us had fallen asleep, we were awakened by Tristan, who must have decided to have words with Anvar about Vixen. He was reciting some sort of poetry--quite romantic stuff. Very sappy. He said he'd written it for the woman he loved and changed the names, I suppose he meant for Anvar to use something similar for Vixen, though... It... well, it simply wouldn't come out the same. Anvar thanked him, but I rather doubt Vixen will be hearing sonnets any time soon.

***

The next morning we set off, leaving Anvar and the candymaker to leave for Phexcare. We soon met a young shepherdess named Puera. We suspected that she was the Witch of the Woods, as we were very close to where Oakwood indicated we might find her. Tristan stopped to meditate, he said it would help him see through her wiles. Tikanni was less than convinced, as she said Tristan always seems to suspect pretty young women of being witches. At any rate, Wigolas and I went on ahead to meet her (Wigolas was quite excited about all the sheep--I suppose it felt more like home for him). She was VERY surprised when we asked if she was the Witch of the woods, and gave us directions on where to find the real witch. However, when she found out that Wigolas was a Blessed One of Peraine, she offered us some food and said one of her sheep could use some assistance. Wigolas seemed to wilt a little at the prospect--I think he has enjoyed plying his club rather than the usual mundane priest tasks--but he agreed without complaining.

While we were inside I looked around a bit, and the little cottage seemed quite cozy. Quite a few herbs, but perhaps that is normal for the country. I wouldn't know. Tristan and Elenwe spent some time planning out what to do in case the girl was a witch (we were still suspicious). Tikkani started whittling, while Thorwald watched and asked her questions about it. With just the slightest of nudges I could see some real possibilities with those two.... Puera and Wigolas finished up with the sheep about then, and we had a small meal before setting out again.

Puera had warned us to stay on the path, and to not take anything into the woods that might harm the witch. Tristan set me in the lead, which... well... He doesn't know about the dagger hidden in my pack, but something tells me the witch might. But I couldn't say anything, of course, so I took the lead--along with himself and Elenwe.

We were not very far into the woods when I noticed the squirrels in the trees above us were not quite.... normal squirrels. They had spiraling horns on their heads, and I remembered hearing that these creatures were called "death squirrels." I pointed them out to the group, and Wigolas became very excited. He couldn't quite tell what type of death squirrel they were, but wanted to tell us what he knew and figure out which way the horn spiraled. He soon would find out--though... I rather doubt he remembers. One of the squirrels dived from the treetop right at Wigolas. Before we knew what happened, Wigolas's eyeball was hanging off the horn of a rather adorable looking (except for the bloody eyeball-meatball on it's horn) death squirrel.

At that point all the squirrels began dropping from the trees and we were hard pressed for several minutes. There were too many of them to fight off, and we quickly realized the best course of action was getting out of the area as quickly as possible. For adorable balls of fluff, the death squirrels left more than one injury. We made it through--all in one piece with the exception of Wigolas' eye.

We rushed headlong down the path--taking care to stay on it as Puera had instructed--and the next thing I knew we had landed in what amounted to a heap at the edge of a pond the path circled. Farther around the pond a woman was searching for herbs with a basket on her arm. I knew instinctively that this was the witch. She stood to look at us, and when Tristan asked for time to see to Wigolas' wounds she simply nodded and skirted the edge of the pond and disappeared behind a waterfall. While the others were doctoring up the various wounds (I, of course, had escaped unharmed being rather nimble on my feet) I looked through the grass near the pond to see what it was the witch had been gathering. I am not sure if I found the same thing she did, but I DID find some lovely mushrooms that look very familiar. [critical fail in Herbs and Gathering] Ahh--I can smell them now, just as mama used to make them fried in butter. I had to stop eating it when I got older, of course, as such meals are not particularly good for the figure, but just looking at those mushrooms brings back memories of home. I haven't mentioned them to the others yet--once all this is done with the witch I'm going to cook a dish up and serve it to them. I may take a little myself as well, for old times sake. We'll see. One bite couldn't do much damage to my figure, I'm sure.

When all was finished we followed the witch to the cave. The following conversation was QUITE the surprise. As it turned out she was NOT the Witch of the Woods, as I had suspected, but instead the witche's daughter. She was, however, the woman that Oakwood had met and spent the night with. Also, to the great astonishment of everyone present except Wigolas, there had indeed been a child as a result of that night. The Witch of the Woods had discovered what happened, robbed Oakwood of 20 years, taken the child from Eafra, and cursed her to always stay within 20 miles of the cave she lives in. When Oakwood had disappeared, but before she was cursed to stay so close, Eafra had gone forth and somehow routed the entire orc army that had been amassing at the edge of the forest. She wishes for us to kill the Witch of the Woods to free her child, return Oakwood's years to him, and allow them to be together again. Ahhh. It really is love (oh, and, she is just as pretty as Oakwood remembered). She has been waiting for him for so long now, but unable to send word or explain what happened. We heartily agreed, of course, since this was why we came in the first place.

Oh--I am going to need to finish this later. It is morning now, and Eafra and Tristan are talking about potions. I think this sounds interesting, and I will update with what I have learned after we face the Witch.

Episode 3--Letters to Rosalyn

Rosalyn,

I am afraid we have made a good deal of trouble here, but are no nearer to our goal.

We went to the hideout of the Otter Clan, led by Vixen and Anvar. En route, Vixen asked Delilah if we would keep Anvar from going into the hideout: although the half-orc puts up a good front, he is much more injured than he has let on. This was evident to all of us, and when we arrived at the Otter hideout we convinced him to remain on watch outside.

Inside the Otter hideout we found more questions than answers, and more traps than questions. Through a combination of cleverness, quick thinking, and some rather fast action on Tikaani's part, we managed to make our way all the way through the lair of the well-diggers which was... Trapped. Some of the traps even appeared to have traps, and what is more, some of the traps were fake. We eventually managed to find our way through an underground passage to a secret room in which the Otters had hidden the Idol of Many Hands (which we secured), along with all of their treasure - a very significant amount of coin totaling in excess of 200 ducats - to which my companions readily helped themselves.

Oh, I know what you are thinking. Tristan Foxfur, son of a good family from the Margravate of Griffonsford, star pupil of Gervaise Starhand of the Gareth Academy of Sword and Staff, has been reduced to dire straights if he is skulking about the lairs of thieves' guilds, relieving them of their ill-gotten treasures. I know. I have had the same thoughts and, I trust, many other recriminations which simply could not have originated in your gentle heart. Know that I do hope, when this business with the Cult is over, to settle down and earn a more honest living, but in any case it appears that all we did was to rescue the Otter's treasure from otherwise certain destruction (along with a very fair copy of Herbarium Kuslikum, the seventh volume). For, as my companions had just finished stuffing the ill-gotten gains of the Otter gang into a bag, Anvar sounded the alarm. We made a dash for the street and Ilcoron, to cover our retreat, set the Otter's hideout ablaze. Vixen and Tikaani got into a brief scuffle with them, and by the time we all managed to get away (Delilah and I managed to sneak away with the head) the Otters stood on the brink of an all-out gang war with the Foxes.

While exploring the hideout we found the body of one of the dead Otters. The man had been stabbed repeatedly and then dragged to his bed, possibly to make it look as though he had died there. I fear that the Otters will now believe that the Foxes were responsible for his murder, although my theory is that one of the Daggers or an Otter who was complicit with them (there were two Otters missing) must have killed him when he had come to switch out the heads.

Returning the true Idol back to Dalia, we removed the false head from Phex's altar and then cut open the fake. Within it, concealed in a small black velvet bag, there was some kind of ceramic spider, a kharmic artifact of the Nameless One which had been intended to desecrate the altar of Phex. At the Steward-Vicar's request I took for it and deposited it in a safe place outside of town, far away from the altars of the gods. Wearily and with a foreboding about what the morrow might bring, we returned to Mirabelle's to rest for the night while the servants of the God of Thieves searched the city for rumors of the cult.

Episode 1, Letters to Rosalyn

Dear Rosalyn,

I have reached Phexcaer and am well. I haven't much time to write as we are... well, I shall try to lay it all out as quickly as I may under the circumstances.

Entering the city, I was able to inquire as to the whereabouts of Mirebelle. She is as merry, as portly, and as helpful as you had said she would be -- and she speaks well of you (though who could otherwise?). I am afraid I came on her in the middle of some business, which after a few inquiries I found I was able to help with. As you know I can be rather persuasive when I need to be, and my white robes and yew staff speak volumes about what I can do if pressed. It turns out that Mirebelle had a... a niece of sorts, a thief in the service of the Foxes (one of the thieves' guilds which run this strange city) and this girl, Phenja by name, though she goes by the sobriquet Vixen, had lost her friend (and I think perhaps lover? For I know too well the pain of love to not read it in another's face) Anvar. Anvar was also a Fox, though recently initiated and unproven, and he had stumbled across a plot which... Well, to understand something of this plot you must first know something of the customs of this strange town.

In Phexcaer, city of thieves, the whole city is run by a number of Thieves' guilds -- the Foxes are the huntsmen and guides into the Orclands, the Otters are the well-diggers, the Daggers are the town watch, and etc. I do not know quite how you can have a city of legalized thievery, but the general effect is, as you might imagine, rather anarchical. Each year at an annual festival to Phex, god of thieves, a race is held amongst the various thieves' guilds, a sort of contest is held to see who can get the "idol of many hands" -- an ancient marble head of, I am given to understand, one of the old emperors, to one of five waypoints before setting it on the altar of Phex. The winners of this bloody minded contest (for although no weapons are allowed, essentially anything else goes, and there are a number of traps which are usually set since the final route of the race is always predictable) essentially get to choose the magistracy for the coming year. Thus Phexcaer may be said to be a sort of "kleptocracy," run by rival gangs, choosing its magistracy through bloody sports rather than right of lineage or the will of the populace.

Ah, but I am a long way from the Middenrealm.

In any case, we engaged to aid Vixen in her quest to locate Anvar. I say "we" because it was at this point that I was joined by two others: a surely Firnelf named Ilcoron, and a very... sharp-witted young Aranian girl (I believe she is an entertainer of some sort) who had also come to Mirabelle looking for work, or perhaps patronage. Both of them proved worthy companions, as you will see. We began our search outside the Phex Mead Hall, a popular hostelry and tavern, where we learned much that was of interest to us. This tavern was the last known whereabouts of Anvar, and was the place where he had overhead some kind of nefarious plot on the part of the Daggers, whom Vixen suspected to have taken Anvar.

The Aranian girl, Delilah by name, struck up a conversation with a Coalpelt by the name of Gratash, who had a workshop across the street from the Mead Hall. By all accounts Gratash (a craftsman in marble) was a slow-minded fool, and Delilah was able to extract a great deal of information from him. Ilcoron and myself conducted a more orthodox investigation outside, managing to find both Anvar's eavsdropping perch, as well as signs that he had been dragged away after a struggle. Eventually Delilah returned from the Coalpelt's workshop with the news that Anvar had been taken by a Dagger named Rikell, and that the Coalpelt had made an duplicate marble head at the behest of the Daggers. Apparently there was some sort of conspiracy afoot to switch the two during the contest. I must confess that Delilah was a good deal rather more useful than either Ilcoron or myself in all of this. She seems to posses what I have sometimes heard called "street smarts" in great supply. But you will be happy to know that I acquitted myself well later on, as you shall see.

After a bit of investigation we were able to find our way into the "Boneyards," an old derelict district of the city. It seems kleptocracies do not lend themselves well to regular municipal upkeep. With Ilcoron following the tracks left by Rickell and his men, we stole in upon the Daggers unawares in a cellar where they were torturing Anvar. Listening, we overheard much of their plot: Something within the duplicate head, which had already been switched out at the Otter hideout, was planned to desecrate the altar of Phex. This was to be done in the service of the Nameless One. Suddenly aware that the conspiracy went much deeper than the mere intrigues of feckless rogues, I revealed myself in power and let forth my magics.

I will not bore you with the tedious details of the battle. Suffice it to say that I lay waste to Rickell and one of his men with the arts and skills which were taught to me at the Gareth Academy of Sword and Staff, while my companions managed to handle the third cultist of the Nameless one (though not before Ilcoron was badly injured). Now we accompany Anvar back to the Fox hideout, in the hopes of being able to stop the desecration of Phex's altar before it is too late, and the whole of the city is given over to the Nameless One. (though not before Ilcoron was badly injured). Now we accompany Anvar back to the Fox hideout, in the hopes of being able to stop the desecration of Phex's altar before it is too late, and the whole of the city is given over to the Nameless One.

Episode 1--Delilah's Diary

I'm starting this journal to keep a record of my experiences as I travel Aventuria. After my most recent rejection by a publisher I decided it was time to glean new life experiences and--more importantly--find new material to draw from. Whether I have been successful, well--we shall see when this account is completed. I will only say that at the rate I'm going, it may be that I should switch from romances to biography--truth really is stranger and more entertaining than fiction. Ah, but that would not sell so well. At least the marketplace is predictable. 

I entered into Thieves city yesterday afternoon. After spending some time scouting out locations for a good performance area (I found two excellent spots--one of which overlooks the great square. I think with my training and that location I will never go hungry in this city. A performance or two a day would be quite enough--and provide a good deal of time for other pursuits) I found Merabel's shop. Not only is she a patron of the arts, but she owns a print shop (!!!!!!) and often sponsors up and coming artists. I had intended to inquire about novels and writing, but before I had a chance to speak to her a tall handsome stranger in white robes and a staff entered. He looked about my age and carried himself proudly. He was, of course, a mage. What caught my attention, though, was when he addressed the distressed girl who had been speaking to Mirabel (I forgot to mention her. We are friends now. Her name is Vixen, and she is adorable. Blond hair curling around her animated face--you can read every thought in her eyes, and she has SO MANY adventures. Quite a bit more about her later). When he spoke to her he bowed with a flourish that sent his spotless robes rustling and kissed her hand. He heard her story of a forbidden love--Vixen is in love with a half-orc named Anmar who had recently disappeared under mysterious circumstances--and immediately offered his help. I'm sure Merabel's offer of payment had nothing to do with the offered assistance.

At that moment I was noticed for the first time by Merabel, and I immediately volunteered my help--as did an elf, Illcorn, whom I had only just noticed. He was tall, and quite a bit older than anyone else present other than Merabel herself. I don't know exactly how old he is, but as he is an elf I am assuming at least 100. I will be somewhat disappointed if I ever find out otherwise, so I have resolved to never inquire. He is a Firnelf, dresses all in skins, and  seems as cold as the land he hales from. For someone so long lived, he seems to think rather a lot about death. I suppose it is one way to pass the time.

We went to a dusty back room where Vixen told us a little more about the disappearance--they are both part of the Fox guild of thieves, but recent recruits. Vixen's wrist tattoo she got as part of initiation was still red. She is deeply in love with this half orc--her face shines when she talks about him--and when things settle down a bit I mean to ask her how the two of them met. It would seem Anvar had his suspicions about a plot the Daggers (another one of the guilds, the ones who act as the city guard) had to steal the Head of many Hands, and had found a vantage point somewhere around an inn where he could spy on them to see what they were up to. Vixen is not sure whether his disappearance has something to do with the plot, or if perhaps it is due to being a half-orc (prejudice is a problem here as in most places). 

At that point we were all ready to get on the move. We went first to the inn Vixen had told us about--it was quite easy to find. Just across the street I noticed a dilapidated old building that seemed to have been abandoned long ago. There was a light inside, however, and an orc hammering away at some stone. I was quite curious about the unusual sight, and certain he would be a good character to meet. I rapped on the door and entered. He was huge and spoke slowly, and I could see he was quite the craftsman based on the beautiful decorations on the door he was carving. He was quite friendly, though reluctant at first to talk about our missing friend Anvar--I could tell he knew something about the matter. Purchasing a rather large sculpture seemed to loosen his tongue, however, and I learned that not only had Anvar been kidnapped by the Daggers--specifically a man named Rikle, but that the orc had created an identical false head for the statue which had been filled with he didn't know what! I patted his arm in thanks and waved farewell before taking my 12 lb statue to give the news to my companions. 

While I had been gone they had found more clues to the disappearance--a scuffle, some apple cores, and a set of tracks that indicated a limp body being drug away. Tristan seemed certain I hadn't accomplished anything but a bit of shopping, and was quite eager to tell me all about their discoveries. I must admit this was mildly vexing, and resolved to tell him nothing--well, other than the false head bit, which was rather important. Instead I pretended to examine the scuffle and drag marks closely (I know nothing about such things), and announced that based on my observations the kidnapper was named Rikle. The look of consternation on Tristan's face was very rewarding. 

We followed along--Ilcorn lead the way now, for he actually does know how to follow tracks, which is not surprising considering he dresses in sealskin. I would expect someone dressed in skins to be reasonably good at finding them while they are still attached to a creature. The drag marks disappeared around the back of a rickety old house and into a basement. I decided to sneak ahead to investigate. What I found was exactly what we expected. Anvar the half orc, badly bruised and beaten, tied to a giant wooden chair. On either side of him were dark priests--Daggers--and standing with his back toward me the man I took to be Rikle. I could not hear well, but decided to get what information I could by reading Anvar's lips. I intended to take the information back to the others--but it didn't quite work out like I planned.

Suddenly from behind me a bolt of blue fire struck Rikle in the back. I turned--and there was Tristan. He hadn't waited for my news, and was now in all his battle mage glory with white robes flying and staff extended and eyes ablaze. It was quite a sight to behold, even if I had no idea why he had suddenly decided to go all flaming death on the kidnappers. I learned later that Tristan had overheard they were servants of the Nameless One, who, of course, is the sworn enemy of the 12 gods. Tristan could not have done otherwise than he did--as a mage. The battle raged quick and furious. In the excitement I snuck across the room and released Anvar from his bonds--despite his wounds, the half-orc was surprisingly nimble and managed to knife one of the kidnappers on the way out. Ilcorn was badly wounded in the fight, but did manage to get a blow or two in. Tristan used his staff to good effect as well--that whole flaming death thing is pretty handy. Tristan said he only had a little wound, but I did see how the priest had beaned his head against the stone wall and I imagine it hurt somewhat more than he let on.

When all was done we had three dead Daggers and one well--if somewhat bruised and broken--half orc to show for our troubles. Anvar told us that whatever they had hidden in the fake head was part of the plan of the Nameless One's servants, and must sit in the temple for 13 hours. Tristan suspects the 13 is significant, because the Nameless One was the 13th god before everything went south and he was cast out and blotted from history. I think he had a name back then. At any rate, we needed to get back to the inn and let Vixen know Anvar was safe, and then regroup to decide our next plan. So we left the bodies there to deal with later, and headed back as quickly as the various wounds would allow.

Addendum: I spent the time getting back to town with Anvar meditating on my silent brooding companion Ilcorn. I feel there is a mystery here to unravel, and mean to have at it. When we were speaking to Vixen about payment earlier this evening, Ilcorn insisted on the details of our payment if we were to find Anvar dead--he pressed the point despite Vixen being very obviously in love with the half-orc and drove the poor girl to tears with his seeming cold-heartedness! Based on this and other clues, I have come to suspect something of his history. I believe Ilcorn has come from great tragedy long ago. He must have loved a she-elf very deeply, and one day was off on a hunting trip (he is presumably a great hunter in his land). He received word that his lady love was in great peril and rushed to her aid, but arrived moments too late to save her. I'm not sure who the villains were who murdered her--but I believe that will be easy enough to ascertain as time goes on. Since that day he has lived in solitude, cursed with long, lonely life (this also explains his fascination with death). I am curious as to her name, but even after so many years--I'm sure it has been at least 50 years since he was young and in love--it would not be tactful to ask. Instead, I will pay close attention and glean what I may from his words and actions. I mean to pass this new information on to Vixen (in utter secrecy, of course) as I believe she will be sympathetic. Perhaps he is not as cold-hearted as I first thought.