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Semrestassa Jastra arose from her bed early in the morning as she normally did. She grabbed a short dress, a pair of stockings, a pair of panties, and her shoes and made her way down to the small lake near her cottage out in the woods, a good day’s walk from the nearest town. Daintily she made her way to the lake, undressed, and bathed herself as she does every morning. When she left the water, Jastra dried herself with a wave of her hand and an arcane word.
“I should have brought a basket,” she said to herself as she looked over the meadow adjacent to the lake.
Returning to her cottage, Jastra grabbed a hairbrush and a wicker basket she had purchased some time before. She casually walked through the light woods to the meadow, sat on a flat rock and brushed her long, purple hair. As she brushed her hair, she had the suspicion that someone was watching her. Jastra stood up and scanned the woods, but nothing except a few birds and a squirrel were to be seen. She shrugged it off, picked up her basket, and slowly searched the meadow. Occasionally, she knelt down and picked a small plant out from between flowers and blades of grass.
Eventually, Jastra returned to her cottage where she sat down at a long desk covered in various vials and containers. She closely examined each herb as she removed it from the basket and ground them up in a mortar. She stood up and leaned across the desk to grab a vial of translucent yellow liquid. Jastra uncorked the vial and added a few drops to the powder in the mortar and quietly giggled as the ingredients sparked, then she mixed them together with the pestle. She poured the mixture into a beaker and held it over an open candle. Jastra watched several small bubbles rise and pop with a small spark. She did not have long to analyze her new concoction, for a loud knock at the door startled her and caused her to drop the beaker. Jastra looked disappointedly down at the broken pieces and then answered the door.
A man wearing dark red clothes and a hood that hid his face stood at Jastra’s doorstep. He extended no greeting, just a letter with the seal of the Evil Adventurers Guild. She opened the letter and read it.
Semrestassa Jastra,
This letter is a summons. The Evil Adventurers Guild requires your skills ASAP. You will be given further orders upon arrival. The messenger will provide transportation.
Siegfried Darkweave
Jastra folded up the brief letter and asked the messenger if she could have a few minutes to get ready. The messenger nodded and set about drawing an arcane circle in the dirt.
Jastra changed into a long black dress and fastened a heavy belt with a few small pouches around her waist. She stuffed several spell components from the table into two of the pouches and a wand into the long, thin sheath specially made for wands. She grabbed her pointed hat (the point had long been bent back) as she walked out the door. The messenger now had a perfectly etched circle of glowing magical symbols.
“Stand here, please,” the messenger politely requested, his voice sounded like a gust of wind as he gestured to the circle. She stepped into the circle and there was a bluish-white flash. When the flash faded, Jastra found herself in the office of Siegfried Darkweave, a head officer of the Evil Adventurers Guild. Darkweave, a dusk elf missing the tip of one ear, sat behind a large desk covered in stacks of books and papers that obscured what he was writing.
“Be with you in a second,” he said. The drip-drip-drip of the water-powered clock in the corner and the scritchy-scratch of Darkweave's pen were the only sounds that could be heard. Jastra saw a bookshelf and a painting of the founder of the Evil Adventurers Guild, a gruff orc with a scar over one eye, as she looked around the room. Upon closer inspection of the bookshelf, she saw many books on combat tactics, weapon care, cooking recipes, and “101 Morale Boosters.” Jastra spied a small book that said “Parenting Tips” when she heard Darkweave put his pen back in the inkwell.
“Jastra! I didn’t expect you so soon. Please, have a seat,” Darkweave greeted, “The reason I have called you here on such short notice is I’m running out of options. A thief has been stealing magical artifacts for the past month and nothing has stopped him. Guards, traps, magic, magic traps, magic guards, magic trap guards, guard trap...magics...you get the idea, right?”
“What makes you think I can do anything about it?” Jastra asked.
“Jastra, I know exactly how good everyone under me is. I’ve seen what you can do, and I’m confident that your kind of magic can get the job done.”
“So what do I have to do?”
Darkweave looked around his office, tapped his fingers, and looked at the clock.
“How about I explain it on the way?”
“So all I have to do is help set up traps around the rest of the magical artifacts and make sure they work?” Jastra asked Darkweave. They were now walking through the guildhall to the library, where remaining artifacts were being kept. On the way, they passed several suits of armor in alcoves. Jastra could feel magic radiating off them, but didn’t pay too much mind to it.
“Yeah, that’s about it.”
“How much will I be p-“
“Nine-thousand gold coins and this,” Darkweave put a small stone in Jastra’s hand, “This will allow you to teleport at will from any location back to the guild hall and back. Also, you’ll be working with Berenbiddle, he’s one of the best.”
Darkweave opened the library door for Jastra, and inside several people were milling about in between tall bookcases and many pedestals, some empty. A gnome was examining one of the pedestals with a strange device on it. Darkweave and Jastra walked over to see what he was up to.
“What’s the plan?” Darkweave asked the gnome.
“I’m thinking spike trap, six feet high,” he responded almost as if still brainstorming.
“What if he comes down from the ceiling, like on a rope?” Jastra asked.
“Then it’ll spray acid out from the tips of the spikes!”
“That could damage the merchandise, and NOBODY wants that,” Darkweave warned.
“Maybe if the spikes came up at an angle, enclosing the item...” the gnome kept thinking out loud.
“If you add a paralysis spell then we could easily catch the thief,” Jastra added.
The gnome finally stood up and turned around to see who he was talking to and his jaw dropped as soon as he looked at Jastra.
“Berenbiddle, this is Jastra, the curse expert. She’ll be working with you on getting the new traps set up. Oh, and before I go...” Darkweave tossed a keyring with two keys on it to Jastra. “That there’s a key for the library and to your own room here. Just ask any of the guards for directions.”
Darkweave closed the library doors behind him as he left. A man, dressed similar to the messenger only in blue, seemingly appeared from nowhere. His face could be slightly seen, but it was still shrouded in the darkness of his hood.
“I am the Librarian. Should you need anything, do not hesitate to ask,” the blue-clothed man introduced himself and walked away to attend to his own business.
Berenbiddle and Jastra worked on setting up various traps on the twenty-three artifacts in the library. Some of the traps included paralysis spells, madness inducing curses, enclosing spike traps, illusional decoys, ice blast traps, and a dust elemental. As the traps were being set, Jastra almost felt like she was being watched again, but she shrugged it off. They finished by late afternoon, and the Librarian bid them farewell. Berenbiddle went off to do his own thing while Jastra tried to find her room.
She could not figure out where her room was, much less any guards. Just as she was about to give up, she stopped and looked at one of the suits of armor. She looked up and down the hallway to make sure no one was around and asked the armor where her room was. The armor pointed her the way, much to her surprise. She asked each suit of armor she passed on her way to her room. As soon as she opened the door, she realized she hadn’t eaten anything all day. As soon as Jastra turned around, Darkweave walked around the corner.
“Ah, Jastra!” he called, “I’ve been looking for you.”
“Me?”
“Yes, I wanted to ask you if you wanted to have dinner in my quarters. I figured the dining hall would be too crowded for your liking.”
Jastra awoke to the sound of people running around outside her door. She quickly got dressed and walked outside.
“What’s going on?” she asked a soldier as he ran by.
“Bastard broke into the library again!” was all he yelled back.
Jastra ran to the library and found it in a state of chaos. Three more artifacts were missing, a large pile of dust was on the floor, and, to make matters worse, none of the traps were sprung. Darkweave was talking with the Librarian.
“What do you make of it?” Darkweave asked.
“We are dealing with a very devious and cunning individual. It’s almost as if he wanted us to take action,” the Librarian responded.
A nondescript man quietly ran into the library and whispered something into Darkweave’s ear. As soon as the man left, Darkweave called over Jastra and a rough-and-tumble character named Barker.
“Alright, word on the street is the thief is hiding out near a small trail in the woods North-East of here. I want you two to check it out.”
As Jastra and Barker walked out of the library, the Librarian moved closer to Darkweave.
“Are you sure it is wise to send Barker with her? I’ve heard he can be quite the womanizer.”
“Hmm, I see what you mean. I’ll go talk with him.”
Darkweave followed Barker to dispense some warnings and returned to the library. The Librarian was already taking inventory with one of his assistants, a young man in a blue robe. The assistant checked off items on a long checklist and occasionally dipped his pen in an inkwell that floated around him.
“What’s the damage?” Darkweave asked the Librarian.
“Only minor artifacts were stolen. So far, none of the more powerful items, such as Kyrzandul’s sword, have been touched.”
“I trust you will send me a full report.”
“Of course.”
Jastra and Barker walked down a lonely stretch of trail deep in the woods northeast of the guildhall. They kept a lookout for anything that could be suspicious. The trees themselves were ominous and foreboding with promises of death from unknown things in the dark shadows. Jastra could once again feel someone watching her, but she could not shake off the feeling this time.
“I’d hate to be out here at night,” Jastra said under her breath.
Barker agreed. His platemail clanked as he walked and he kept his hand on the scabbard for his longsword. A rustle in some bushes just off the trail alerted Barker and he quickly stopped. A human wearing a worn, black cloak and tinted glasses tumbled out of the think underbrush onto the trail ahead. He stood up, brushed himself off, and said “uh oh” before drawing a dagger.
“It’s the thief!” Barker shouted as he charged with his longsword. The thief easily dodged and deflected Barker’s attacks. Jastra made some hand gestures and softly spoke some words, and a thin icy beam lanced through the air, but the thief dodged the spell as well. His evasions became more elaborate, as if he was enjoying having someone at his throat, but Barker did not relent in his assault.
“You’ll have to do better than that!” the thief chided as he started to run away backwards.
Jastra pulled a small amount of spidersilk out of one of the pouches on her belt. As she started to recite the mystical syllables, a wind picked up and whipped her hair around. She thought to herself about how she was glad she wore a tight dress as this could have been rather...revealing. Purple tendrils of light shot out of the ground around the thief and wrapped around him before fading out, but their effect was obvious. The thief, on his knees, struggled in vain against the curse and began crying out in pain.
Barker commended Jastra and began walking towards the immobilized thief. Agonized screams filled the air. Jastra felt a chill down to her soul as the thief let out a long howl, and Barker stopped not more than six steps in front of Jastra.
“Something’s wrong,” she said, sounding weak.
Suddenly, a jet of thick, atrous smoke exploded from the thief’s right eye, knocking his glasses off his head. The smoke roiled into a huge cloud that started to coalesce into a humanoid shape. Light gleamed off something red in the smoke. Two fiery orange eyes began to burn and glared at Barker. A huge broad blade swung out of the cloud and cleaved Barker in half from hip to shoulder. The trail, trees, and Jastra were sprayed with crimson. The demon took a step forward with a great goatlike leg out of the smoke it formed from. Red armor covered most of the demon’s body, and the skin that could be seen between plates of armor was black and slimy. Green vapor escaped from in between its daggerlike teeth.
Jastra’s mind raced as the demon took another step forward. It licked its bloody blade with a long, forked tongue. As it raised its weapon, the thief screamed out a simple command.
“RUN!”
Jastra tried to cast a spell as fast as she could. The demon brought down its blade, but instead of having two bisected corpses, it found a pile of autumn leaves. Confused, the demon looked over both sides of the blade and kicked up the leaves. It looked back over its shoulder to find the thief had disappeared as well. The demon scratched its head, sniffed the air, and set off in a westerly direction.
The sound of Jastra’s own heavy breathing and the demon’s fading footfalls were all she could hear from behind the fallen tree she hid behind. She waited until the forest was quiet again before even daring to move. Jastra took off her hat and slowly peered over the fallen tree. Barker’s corpse still pumped blood into the dirt and a fresh line of trampled foliage leading west were the only things she really noticed. She walked past Barker’s bleeding body to where the thief was, and she noticed a few drops of blood in the dirt.
“Miss Jastra?” a voice from behind called, “I really need to talk to you.”
She turned around to see the thief simply standing there with a good deal of blood that ran down his face from his eye. His dagger was in its sheath so as not to seem threatening, but he was still a frightening sight to behold.
“W-what do you want?”
“I need your help, but,” the thief explained before looking around at Barker’s corpse that lay in a pool of his own blood, “we should discuss this elsewhere.”
“And why should I help you? You stole artifacts from the Guild’s library!” Jastra accused.
“True. But I also have THIS,” the thief pulled out a thick, leather-bound book from his cloak that, judging by the occult symbols on the cover, was filled with knowledge on curses, “and it could be yours, if you help me.”
“...Okay, what sort of help do you need?”
“Seriously, this isn’t the best place to discuss this. There’s a stream just down the trail, we can discuss it there.
The walk to the stream was quiet and awkward. As soon as they reached the stream, the thief bent down and washed his face of blood.
“Who are you and why do you know my name?” Jastra questioned the thief.
“Who am I...That’s a very good question. As to why I know your name, well, I know many things about you. I know yesterday you were picking herbs in the meadow near your cottage. I know that later that afternoon you were setting up traps in the library with a gnome named Berenbiddle. I know that Siegfried Darkweave chose you and, what’s his name....Barker, almost on a whim,” the thief stood up and turned around as he put his glasses on, “I also know your dress size.”
Jastra instantly picked up a rock and threw it at the thief’s head, knocking him down into the stream. She angrily stomped over to him and put her foot on his chest.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” she angrily asked.
“Like I said, that’s a very good question, and one I’d like to know for myself,” the thief answered from behind Jastra.
She looked back in shock to see the thief adjusting his glasses, and she looked down again to see she was standing on a small log. Jastra lost her footing on the small piece of wood and closed her eyes as she slipped. When she realized she hadn’t fallen into the stream, she opened here eyes and found herself in the thief’s arms.
“Are you okay” he asked with honest concern.
“GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME!” Jastra screamed as she punched the thief in the mouth. He dropped Jastra into the stream before stumbling over a rock and falling into the stream. The thief quickly straightened his glasses and looked up to see a very furious Jastra punch him in the face again. She pulled her wand out of its sheath and pointed it down at the thief, small bolts of lightning ran down the length of the wand.
“All you’re going to do is kill yourself with that,” the thief said in a slightly depressed tone, “and all that’ll happen to me is I’ll continue to be forever cursed.”
“Who the hell are you? First you steal precious artifacts, then you summon a fucking demon that tries to kill me, then you tell me you’ve been SPYING on me,” Jastra raised her voice as she yelled directly into the thief’s face and reached for his tinted glasses, “and now you’re getting depre-“
She snatched the glasses off of the thief’s head but was not prepared for what they concealed. His left eye was red and black with a yellow pupil, while his right eye was as black as the smoke that exploded from it. He stood up and looked Jastra right in the eyes.
“This is why I need your help,” he said as he pointed to his eyes, “I figured that since I am so riddled with curses you’d be a little interested. Oh, and I’m sorry I spied on you, I just needed to know if you were someone that could actually help me.”
“And I’m the only one that can help you?”
“I wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble to contact you if I didn’t,” the thief said with a slight smile. Oh! I have an idea!”
“What?”
“Use that warpy stone thing to go back to the Evil Adventurers Guild and tell them about the demon, but if they ask about me, tell them it ate me. I’m going to go return all that stuff I stole from the library,” the thief said as he started to run back down the trail, “Oh, and don’t worry about finding me, Miss Jastra, I’ll stop by your room tonight.”
“I still don’t know your name!” Jastra called/
“Neither do I!” he called back before vanishing off the trail.
Jastra sighed and pulled out the stone Darkweave gave her. It was bluish-green and she could make out several faint runes on it. She concentrated on the stone for a second and teleported into a round room with one door. She opened the door and found Darkweave waiting for her, his face very grim.
The nameless thief returned to a small shack in the woods where he’d been keeping the stolen artifacts. One by one he gently placed them in a large sack.
“You think there’s still hope, how amusing,” an all too familiar, all too sinister voice mocked him.
“There’s always hope, you insufferable bastard, and your ass is going first,” the thief threatened.
“Please, you couldn’t get rid of me.”
“Oh?”
“You heard me. I’ll make sure you kill that bitch with your own hands.”
“For a dagger, you’re a wrathful little ass, aren’t you?”
“Hey, I’m not the one that went around stealing things that were best left untouched, douche.”
“Cunt.”
“Sodomizer.”
“Strumpet.”
“Whore.”
“Doody-head.”
“I know you are but what am I?”
“I’m rubber, you’re glue.”
“You’re razor wit never ceases to amaze me, thief.”
“Yeah, you got burned. Now shut up before I sell you to a gullible pawn shop owner.”
“I’m shaking in my sheath.”
The thief lifted the bag over his shoulder and began the walk back to the guildhall. He evaded several small patrols on his way there. He opted to go through the front door, something he has not tried in a long time. The guards at front gate, two animated suits of armor wielding spears, stopped him.
“What business do you have?” they asked in windy voices.
“I found this bag of stuff that I think belongs to the guild,” he lied.
The guards let him through and he walked freely down meandering hallways until he came across a certain dusk elf talking to a certain woman with purple hair.
“Excuse me, sir? Are you in charge here?” he asked the dusk elf.
“I am.”
“I found this bag of stuff in a shack out in the woods, and word on the street is you guys are missing some important stuff.”
“You don’t say,” the dusk elf sounded skeptical, “Take it to the library.”
“Yes sir!”
The thief jaunted down the hallway and rounded the corner. He opened the library doors and, as soon as he saw the Librarian he knew something bad was going to happen, and it did. He felt his feet leave the ground and he was slammed into the wall behind the Librarian. The blue clothed, hooded man casually walked over to the floating bag and looked inside. The artifacts in the bag floated into the air and lightly settled on their respective pedestals. The Librarian walked back to where the thief was pressed against the wall.
“So, you decided to show yourself in my library,” the Librarian said in a low voice.
“Hey, I brought your stuff back, right?”
“That you did.”
“So if I promise to never return, you’ll let me-“
The thief was slammed into the wall three more times before getting dropped on the floor. The Librarian knelt down over the thief’s battered body.
“Oh I’ll let you go, but you have to do something for me before I call it even.”
“Ugh, fair enough. What’s your game, book man?”
“All in due time,” the Librarian chuckled, “now get out of here.”
The thief picked himself up off the floor and shuffled out the door. As soon as he left, the Librarian looked over each previously stolen artifact with care to make sure they weren’t damaged. As soon as he looked over the last one, the assistant with the checklist ran up.
“Sir! A book is missing!” he cried.
“What!? Which one?” the Librarian inquisited.
“A book on curses.”
“Hmm... I see,” the Librarian said as he turned towards his study, “Let no one disturb me, I shall be brooding in my study.”
“Yes sir.”
“Jastra, I must speak with you,” Darkweave began, “There have been reports of a demon in the woods northwest of here,” he stopped and saw the shaken look in Jastra’s eyes and the drops of blood on her face and dress, “What happened?”
“Th-the demon, it killed Barker and the thief,” she said, he voice quavering.
“This isn’t good,” he said almost to himself.
“Excuse me, sir? Are you in charge here?” a man wearing dark clothes, a worn cloak, and tinted glasses asked from down the hall.
“I am,” Darkweave replied.
“I found this bag of stuff in a shack out in the woods, and word on the street is you guys are missing some important stuff.”
“You don’t say,” Darkweave sounded skeptical, “Take it to the library.”
“Yes sir!”
Darkweave watched the man suspiciously as he walked away and turned back to Jastra.
“Go get some rest, you’ve had a rough day,”
Jastra returned to her room and noticed a small fountain in the corner to her right. She waved her hand over the fountain and it bubbled to life. She washed her face off and undressed before crawling into bed. The eyes of the thief would not leave her thoughts. After tossing and turning for some time, she sat up in her bed. The soft sheets slid off her bare body.
“What should I do?” she quietly asked herself, “That thief spied on me in my own home, but I’ve seen someone cursed like him. And that book he has! I must read it.
“I also hope he’s not here!” she said loudly, but all she heard was a drip from the fountain. She laid back down and decided she was going to help the thief after a good night’s sleep.
Jastra woke up very early the next morning and went for a walk around the guildhall. Darkweave and the Librarian were playing a game of chess on a small table in the library while several initiates of the guild studied ancient books. The dining hall was silent and the torches unlit. Outside on the training grounds, a lone archer practiced against several targets. As she walked by, the archer stopped for a second and turned his head just enough for Jastra to see his eye patch and then he resumed his target practice.
Jastra walked into the library again and watched the last few moves of the chess game. Darkweave slid a white piece forward and tapped it a few times on the square before taking his hand away. A black piece seemingly slid itself forward and the Librarian declared checkmate. Darkweave flipped over the table and stormed out, disrupting everyone in the process.
“Please, have a seat,” the Librarian laughed, “Tell me what brings you here.”
“I thought I’d have a look around before I left.”
“Hmm, I do not blame you. Demons are scary business, I should know,” the Librarian said and the table uprighted itself. Two teacups landed on the table with a quiet clink, and a teapot flew into the Librarian’s hand, from which he poured tea into the two cups.
“May I-“ Jastra started to ask.
“I would be insulted if you didn’t.”
The Librarian appeared to set the teapot on an invisible shelf, as it floated several inches above the center of the table, and he snapped his fingers causing a small blue flame to ignite under the teapot. Jastra sipped her tea and sighed.
“Alright, what’s on your mind?” the Librarian asked, “This conversation doesn’t leave this table, no one will know we had this discussion.”
“No one?”
“Not even the janitor,” he assured as he looked over. Jastra followed his gaze and saw a man in white with intense eyes staring back and slowly walk out of sight.
“Well, this guy I know, he...he really needs my help. And seeing Barker die..” she trailed off.
“What’s done is done. Sometimes, we do or see things we really do not want to. Take comfort that no one liked Barker. He was lecherous, unnecessarily cruel, and, worst of all, tactless.”
“I stared into the eyes of a demon as it killed a man in front of me and you want me to take comfort in a place where there’s even more insidious people in this place!?” she questioningly yelled.
“Miss Jastra?” someone asked.
“What!?” she snapped, not looking to see who said her name. An orc, a human with a goatee, a bald elf with the tips of his ears cut off, and the one-eyed archer stood before her.
“We heard about what happened,” said the man with the goatee, “so we pooled our money together and bought you a gift.”
There was a pause of a few seconds before the man with the goatee elbowed the elf in the ribs, who then produced a purple silk dress from the sleeve of his robe and presented it to Jastra.
“Oh, you guys are sweet,” Jastra thanked them and accepted the gift.
“I am impressed,” said the Librarian as the group left the library, “You just made four battle-hardened warriors blush.”
Jastra covered her face with her hands in embarrassment, and the Librarian took it as his cue to change the subject.
“Before you leave, would you like to know why Master Darkweave was so upset over a game of chess?” he asked.
“Okay, sure,” she answered.
“Some time ago, Darkweave declared himself chess champion of the Guild. This was not unfounded, as he had bested almost every member in the Guild in at least one game. When he challenged me, we made it a little interesting by placing a wager. If he won a single game against me, I would unlock the vault in my study to the more experienced members. If I defeated him in three hundred consecutive games, he would grant me unlimited access to the Guild’s resources. Darkweave does not want anyone encroaching on his power, hence why he is so angry, but he is too proud to call off the wager. The game you just witnessed was number two-hundred-eighty-six.”
“You must be amazing,” Jastra said in amazement.
“I get by,” the Librarian said modestly before sipping his tea, “also, you had better talk to Darkweave before you go.”
Jastra finished her cup of tea and said farewell to the mysterious Librarian. She asked a guard where to find Darkweave’s office, and it pointed her to a door with a sign reading “Master Siegfried Darkweave, High Officer of The Evil Adventurers Guild, Glassica Branch.” She knocked on the door and it opened itself.
“I’m glad you haven’t left, Jastra, I didn’t pay you for services rendered,” Darkweave said as he tossed Jastra a heavy bag of gold, “I would love to stay and chat, but I have some-“
A messenger similar to the one at Jastra’s house ran in through the door.
“Master Darkweave, your wife is in labor,” he states in a windy voice.
“AlrightwellIgottagobye,” Darkweave rushed as he ran out the door.
Jastra sighed to herself as she concentrated on her home and teleported away. She found herself just inside the front door of her cottage. She hung her new dress in the closet in her bedroom, and, shortly before she changed into a simple white dress, she realized she forgot her hat at the stream. After she changed, a knock at her door startled her as she put some wood in the fireplace.
“Miss Jastra?” a familiar voice called, “Are you home?”
Jastra opened the door and the thief from the day before held out a bouquet of flowers. She ignored his apologetic smile.
“It’s going to take a lot more than flowers,” she said.
The thief held out her hat in his other hand and did not drop his smile.
“I also brought a bottle of wine, if that helps,” he said. His voice had lost the confidence from the day before.
Jastra pondered for a few seconds before letting him in. She put the flowers in a glass vase of water near the window and hung her hat on the hook near the door. The thief set a bottle of wine and the old book of curses on a table near the fireplace before limply sitting in a chair.
“So you came here, not even sure if I would accept...you...apology...” Jastra trailed off when she saw the state the thief was in, “What’s wrong?”
“I’m a hollow shell of a man with no name, no past, and a hangover from last night,” he said sullenly.
Jastra sat across from the thief at the table and had a look at the wine bottle.
“This must have been expensive. How much did you pay for it?” she asked.
“Pay? I said ‘brought’ not ‘bought,’ Miss Jastra,” the thief replied with a smirk, “I haven’t paid for food or drink for as long as I can remember.”
Jastra glared at the thief as she set the bottle on a shelf next to some books.
“So where have you been since yesterday?” she asked the thief.
The thief retold his tale starting from when he spoke with Darkweave.
Otik, the elven spymaster that hates his own race so much he cut the tips off his own ears, walked into The Priest’s Bait tavern and took a seat at the bar. He had business on his mind.
“Alright, here’s the deal,” Otik started, “The Guild’s been losing more new members than recruiting them because people view as a sort of conglomeration of insensitive jerks that would rather kill a client and steal his money than actually do the job said client would pay us for. Follow me so far?”
“Yes, yes, we’re not as stupid as you look,” chuckled Jay as he stroked his goatee.
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about. Now, There’s a relatively new member named Semrestassa Jastra. Earlier today, she went on assignment with Barker to find the thief that’s been jacking stuff from the library.”
“Ugh, Barker?” chimed in Deadeye, “No wonder you’re worried.”
“No, that’s not it,” Otik’s words dropped like a hammer, he immediately had the attention of Jay, Deadeye, and Krunk, “A demon showed up in the woods and killed Barker. Cut him right in half.
“Jastra got away, but Darkweave said she’s pretty shaken up about it. I say we chip in and buy her something nice. A dress, or something.”
“Why do you have to be such a wuss, Otik?” Jay accused.
“I seem to remember a certain goatee’d gent that failed to ask out a certain sorceress, but I can’t recall any names. Anyone care to refresh my memory?” Otik said in a sarcastic tone.
“Yeah, it was Jay ‘cause he’s a pussy!” Deadeye bluntly stated, and the everyone except Jay burst into laughter.
“Seriously though, we really should get her something,” Otik finally got out after laughing.
A man in darkly tinted glasses stumbled into Otik and quickly whispered something into his ear. He whispered something back to the man, who simply nodded.
“Okay, we’re buying her a nice dress,” Otik announced.
“How much do those cost?” asked Deadeye.
“Two hundred,” replied Otik after the man whispered some more information into Otik’s clipped ear, “That’s fifty gold coins from each of us. Let’s put our money together now and I’ll go buy the dress in the morning.”
“How do we know we can trust you with our money?” asked Deadeye.
“Well, can you REALLY trust any of us?”
“Point taken.”
“And would you get the fuck off my shoulder?” Otik asked the man in glasses who whispered one last thing before stumbling out the door.
Otik gathered fifty gold coins each from Deadeye, Jay, and the rather silent Krunk.
“So what happened next?” Jastra asked.
“I went up the road to the guildhall, evaded the guards, and found your room,” he continued.
“You WHAT?” she became enraged.
“Wait a second! The only reason I knew it was your room is as soon as I snuck up to the door I hear ‘I also hope he’s not here!’ and I was so freaking scared I instantly left, I’m serious!” the thief hastily explained.
“You thought I knew you were there?” Jastra laughed.
“...You mean you didn’t?”
Jastra continued to laugh at the irony. The thief chuckled slightly, but his hangover-induced headache would not let him laugh too much.
“So really, what is your name?” Jastra asked between gasps for air.
“Really, I don’t know. It’s one of the curses on me,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Oh...” Jastra grew somber upon hearing that.
“Hey, don’t feel bad for me, this is a happy occasion!”
“Why?”
“Because for the first time I can remember, someone is helping me without threat of death,” the thief said with a genuine smile.
“Oh. Well, I need to call you something.”
“One time a guy called me Dirtcoat Henry of the West Bank, but he was crazy. If you need to call me something, call me, umm,” the thief thought about it for a second, “Jonathan Wild. Yeah, that’ll do.”
“Alright Jon, what’s the plan?”
“Plan?”
“Yeah. You know, a plan to get rid of your curses?”
“Only plan I had in mind for today was getting invited into your home and drinking red wine with you.”
Jastra stopped to examine Jon. His black hair was tied back in a ponytail that spiked off the back of his head. The tinted glasses covered his eyes, and he wore a heavy leather glove on his left hand yet no glove on his right. He wore a dark brown vest with many buckles and pockets over a black tunic. He was rather good looking, but he had about two days of stubble.
They spent the rest of the day talking about various subjects and became rather good friends. The night went without incident, at least until...
“So, some guys at the Evil Adventurer Guild bought me a really nice dress,” Jastra started up another topic of conversation,” but I can’t figure out how they got the right size.”
Jon looked up from his wine glass and there was a look of fright on his face for an instant.
“You didn’t!” she gasped.
“Sorry?” was all Jon had time to say before Jastra tackled him to the ground and started choking him.
“You asshole!” she screamed at him, “You can’t just go around telling people stuff like that!”
“Hehgeguhrk! I’m sohrry hckhhhh!” Jon choked.
Jastra quit choking Jon after he apologized about five times, then she fell on top of him laughing.
“Miss Jastra?”
“Hahahaha, what?”
“You’re drunk.”
Jastra woke up the next morning on her bed backwards. She gathered up a change of clothes, and she found Jon sleeping in a chair with the wine bottle in his hand. He stirred in his seat as she walked past him out the door. Jastra made her way to the lake to bathe. She changed into a clean dress and panties and made her way back. A red-clad messenger from the Evil Adventurers Guild sat with his arms and legs crossed next to the door.
“Why are you here?” She demanded.
“I am here should the Guild need you,” echoed his windy voice.
“Why would the Guild need me on such short notice?”
“A situation has arisen with a demon. The Guild wants every member to be available until the threat is nullified.”
Jastra thought that was strange and walked inside. Jon was not in sight, but the wine bottle was on the table. She dumped her dirty clothes in the hamper in her bedroom, and when she walked out of her room she saw Jon, white as a sheet, standing behind the door.
“What...in the nine hells...is that on your doorstep?” he whispered, and he was clearly afraid.
“It’s a messenger from the Evil Adventurers Guild, there’s nothing to worry about.”
“Nothing to worry about!? Get over here!” Jon pulled Jastra over to the window, “Look at it. It’s not human, it doesn’t even breathe. I can’t trust something that doesn’t breathe!”
“Have you trusted ANYONE?”
“...Good point.”
Jastra sat down in a chair and brushed her hair. Jon stayed by the window, watching the messenger through the window. An hour later, Jastra began skimming the book of curses. Suddenly, Jon fell back away from the window and ducked down.
“What was that about?” Jastra asked.
“It fuckin’ looked at me! I could see into the void of its non-body!”
“For Icezo’s sake!”
“What? That thing is scary as hell!”
“How can I concentrate when you’re freaking out over something so trivial!? Why don’t you go outside, or something?”
“But that’s where IT is!”
Jastra stood up, opened the front door, pushed Jon out the door, and slammed the door behind him. She saw a dark blur rush past the windows. She chuckled to herself and sat down to read the book.
“Deadeye?”
“Yeah?”
“You said you saw Jastra that morning, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you tell us she was so damn hot?”
“Hey, I didn’t look with my good eye.”
“I bet you didn’t even look.”
“Kiss my ass, Jay.”
Deadeye and Jay walked into The Priest’s Bait and had a seat at the bar, ordering a Northern Revenge and a shot of vodka, respectively. Krunk was already there drinking a pint of ale.
“Hey Krunk,” they said, and Krunk greeted them.
“What have you been up to, man?” Deadeye asked the orc.
“Trainin’, drinkin’.”
“Cool, cool.”
Otik walked in and the bartender slid him a Raging Tea as he sat down
“Deadeye?” Otik asked.
“Yeah?” he sighed.
“Why didn’t you tell me Jastra was so damn hot?”
“...Because you guys are asses.”
“You know, you’re right,” Jay said after taking his shot, “We’re big jerks.”
“Pfft, Krunk not jerk,” Krunk disagreed.
“Krunk, if it weren’t for you leaving piles of bodies and rivers of blood in your wake, I’d say you were too huggable to be a jerk,” Jay said.
The cursed thief, Jonathan Wild, walked into The Priest’s Bait and had a seat at the far end of the bar, past the four regulars that always sat near the door. He ordered a pint of ale and drank it at a leisurely pace.
“Hey,” said the creepy elf with clipped ears who had suddenly sat down next to him, “got any more info? You really helped out the other day.”
“Yeah, I know one thing,” Jon said after thinking about it, “I haven’t had enough ale.”
The elf blinked and went back to his original seat. Jon slammed down his ale and made his way out the door.
“Anything?” Jay asked Otik.
“Nothing,” he replied, “must’ve been a fluke.”
“Damn.”
The man in the black cloak and darkly tinted glasses put his empty glass down, placed some copper pieces on the bar and started to walk out. He stopped to whisper something into Otik’s ear.
“Between you and me, I should’ve never told you anything,” he whispered before walking out the door.
“What was that about?” Jay asked.
“Nothing. It was nothing.”
Jon silently opened the window and crept in after closing it behind him. Jastra was still reading the book, now by candlelight. He moved like shadow he was, making less noise than the light breeze outside. He got halfway to where Jastra was seated when the unexpected happened yet again.
“I really hope that’s not you, Jon,” she said.
“WHAT!?” Jon shouted.
“EEK!” Jastra screamed.
Jon also screamed as he fell to the ground, clutching his heart. He stood up, breathing heavily.
“Stop...fucking...DOING THAT!”
“Why the hell were you sneaking up on me?”
“I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“That’s hardly a good reason to sneak up on a girl in her own house! Wait, you’re not wearing your glasses.”
“I take them off at night so I can see better. And I’m sorry, Miss Jastra.”
Jastra turned back to the book of curses and Jon took a seat across the table from her. He slowly dropped his head on the table and groaned slightly.
“What’s wrong?” Jastra asked, not looking up.
“I drank a pint way too fast and I vomited once on the way here already, so I’m not feeling too good.”
“Hmm...Oh!” Jastra exclaimed, “I found something here about discolored eyes. It says the easiest way to remove the curse is to find a wand of curse removal.”
“...You’re joking...”
“That’s what it says.”
“Ugh. I’m sure we can find one in Glassica,” Jon said before crawling into the corner, “but first it’s time to sleep.”
Jastra kept reading on through the night. Jon eventually woke up to find she had fallen asleep on the book, so he scooped her up into his arms and laid her down on her bed. He tucked her in and silently walked out, closing the door to Jastra’s bedroom as he went out.
The next morning, Jastra opened the door and sat down to resume reading. Shortly after she sat down, there was a knock at the door.
“Miss Jastra? If you’re up, could you open the door?” Jon asked from outside.
Jastra opened the door and Jon came in with many bottle of various shapes and sizes under each arm. He giggled like a child as he put them all on the table.
“What’s all that?” she asked.
“You never know when you’re going to have to celebrate, and personally, I don’t like to be caught with my pants down,” he explained, “I didn’t wake you up, did I?”
“No, no,” Jastra said as she sat back down.
Jon began examining each label and organized them by strength and color. There were blue bottles, brown bottles, green bottles, and two metal flasks. Jastra stood up first,
“Alright, I’m going to change and then we’ll go to Glassica,” she said.
“I’ll wait for you outside,” Jon said, and he quickly clarifies “Out front,” when Jastra gave him a dirty look.
Outside, Jon was too busy balancing his dagger on his fingertip while performing various feats of dexterity to notice Jastra had sneaked out a back way from her cottage. She ran down to the lake, had a quick bath, and ran back.
“What’s keeping her?” Jon asked himself as he tossed his dagger into the air, cartwheeled, and caught it by the point of the blade with his fingertip.
Jastra’s front door opened, and when Jon turned to see her, he dropped his dagger on the ground. Her new dress had a slit down the side, exposing her right thigh, and perfectly accentuated every curve of her body.
“Alright, let’s go,” she said.
“Uhh...” Jon went slackjawed.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Jastra walked back to the messenger and said, in a commanding voice, “Let’s go.” “My orders are to remain at the residence of Semrestassa Jastra,” blew the messenger’s windy voice.
“You were ordered to stay here so you could quickly contact me should the Guild need me, correct?”
“Correct.”
“And if I left, then you wouldn’t be able to quickly contact me, correct?”
“Correct.”
“So if you came with me then you’d be able to contact me at a moment’s notice should the Guild need me, thus fulfilling your mission, correct?”
After a few seconds, the messenger stood up and followed Jastra down the trail. Jon was already part way down the trail, cleaning his blade.
The sky was overcast as Semrestassa Jastra, Jonathan Wild, and the messenger walked down the dirt trail. Jastra admired the trees, while Jon quietly muttered to himself. Lightning bolted through the air, and with a crack of thunder it began to rain.
“Oh no!” Jastra cried, “At least I’m wearing a hat.”
Jon grumbled as he flipped up the hood of his cloak, and the messenger seemed to ignore it.
“Wait,” Jon stopped and pointed at the messenger, “Can’t you cast teleportation spells?”
The messenger nodded, as soon as Jastra asked, began drawing an arcane circle in the dirt. The lines and symbols began to glow. Jastra stepped into the circle, followed by the messenger and a wary Jon. After the blue flash faded, they were in the town of Glassica.
“Follow me, I know where to find magic items,” Jon said.
Jastra and the messenger followed Jon to a small shop. Inside, the walls were lined with wands, staves, and shelves of reagents. An elderly man greeted them as they walked in. Jon, wasting no time, walked right up to the counter.
“I need a wand of curse removal, NOW!”
“Well, you came to the right place!” the old man sounded excited to do business and he put a black and white wand on the counter.
“Five hundred gold,” he said.
“I’ll pay if it works,” he said and handed the wand to Jastra, “Alright, let’s do this.”
“Wait!” the old man stopped them and opened a door behind him, “Just in case, go in there.”
The door led into a large empty room. The old man walked in as soon as Jastra, Jon, and the messenger were in and he closed the door behind him. Jon took off his glasses and Jastra pointed the wand at his left eye.
“This should be good,” the old man said to himself.
The wand glowed as Jastra activated it, and energy sparked between the wand and Jon’s eye. A pressure wave blasted Jon and Jastra away, sending Jon flying into the wall. The messenger caught Jastra in mid-air and set her down gently on her feet.
“Ow...the hell was that?” Jon coughed.
“Yikes, seems there was a, uhh, conflict of some sort. Let me take a look at ya, boy,” the old man said as he examined Jon’s eyes, “Oh my, this is serious.”
“What is?”
“The curses in you have apparently woven together and strengthened themselves in the process. It’s going to take a little more than a simple wand.”
The old man walked out the door and returned with a staff. He pointed it at Jon’s head and simply said “Hold still.”
The blast rocked the room, knocking everyone down. When the dust settled, Jon got up from the far corner of the room.
“The hell was THAT?” he yelled.
“Heh, guess that didn’t work. I thought something stronger would work, but that cure conglomeration in you apparently doesn’t want out,” said the old man. Jastra and Jon thanked the old man for his help. Luckily for them, he did not charge them for the staff and wand.
“Well now what?” Jastra asked Jon.
“Ugh, I dunno. Something that’ll take the pain in my face away.”
“Semrestassa Jastra, the Librarian wishes to speak with you and the thief,” the messenger suddenly said.
As Jastra, Jon, and the messenger walked into the guildhall, they saw Darkweave violently push open the library doors and storm off down the hall. They went inside to find the Librarian in there alone. He slowly turned around, and something did not seem right.
“Good morning, you two,” he greeted them in a low voice, “I have been aware of what has been going on, and I am not exactly pleased.
“Jastra, did this thief tell you he got the book of curses from this library? Of course not. You haven’t done an honest thing in your li- oh, I see you can’t remember anything from before five years ago, can you?” “What are you?” Jon asked, shaking in his boots.
“That’s hardly important. Now, I understand you need the book to be rid of your curse matrix, and that’s just fine. Now, to get you out of my hair, or what’s left of it,” the Librarian pulled his blue hood back, revealing his gaunt face, milky white eyes, and receding hairline, “I’m sending that messenger there with you as a bodyguard. Call him, oh I don’t know, Steve.”
“Steve? Isn’t that a little generic?” Jon asked before being flung into the ceiling so fast his glasses did not go up with him.
“You’re one to talk, Jonathan,” the Librarian said as Jon dropped to the ground.
“Am I the only normal person here?” Jastra cried.
Jon and the Librarian coughed in agreement when they looked at each other’s eyes.
“Oh man, we are pretty messed up,” Jon sighed.
“Speak for yourself, at least I do not have a life-draining demon hand,” said the Librarian.
“Yeah...”
“Now get out of my library. Oh, and one last thing,” the Librarian said as they were about to leave, “Try to find the author of that book, if anyone can help you it will probably be him.”
Back at Jastra’s cottage, the three tried to think of a plan. Jastra read through the book of curses some more and found the author is named Valdrchuinth Hmau.
“Valdrchuinth Hmau? What kind of name is that?” Jon asked.
“The kind that radiates with power,” Jastra said, “You go check in town, see if you can dig anything up.”
“Yeah, okay. What are you going to do?”
“I have my own sources.”
“Right. I’ll come back with food, if nothing else,” Jon said as he walked out the door.
Jastra walked back to her alchemy table and picked up a piece of chalk. She began drawing an arcane circle in the middle of the floor, similar to the ones Steve had drawn but much more intricate. She placed candles at five evenly spaced points on the circle and lit them by pointing her index and middle fingers at them. Chanting mystic words she learned when she was a child, the room grew dark and the lines between the candles lit on fire.
“Semrestassa...” the familiar voice of a woman echoed.
“Hello, Mother.”
The floating image of Jastra’s mother appeared above the arcane circle.
“It’s been too long”
“I need to ask you a question.”
“Please do.”
“Where can I find Valdrchuinth Hmau?”
“Valdrchuinth? I haven’t heard that name in years. I last heard he’s been hiding out in the Eighth Titanic Abyss of the Lost. Why do you need to find him, my child?”
Jastra explained the story of Jon to her mother, who smiled.
“I have business to attend to, my child. I hope to see you again soon.”
“Goodbye, Mother.”
The image of Jastra’s mother faded out and light returned to the room.
Jon walked into The Priest’s Bait and sat down right next to the elf with clipped ears. He seemed puzzled at first.
“Hello, remember me?” Jon asked with a smile.
“How could I forget?”
“I need some information on Valdrchuinth Hmau.”
The elf looked around the tavern, got up, gestured for Jon to follow him. They walked outside and around to the back of the tavern.
“Are you insane?” the elf asked, “Do you have any idea who Valdrchuinth is?”
“Obviously not, or I wouldn’t have asked.”
“Valdrchuinth Hmau is a lich. They say he hangs around this place called the Indomitable Fortress of Madness,” he explained, “You’re not going there, are you?”
“Oh, I am. Happen to know where that is?”
“Rumors say it’s on some outer plane. Of course, rumors don’t say which one.” “Thanks,” Jon said with a smile as he tossed the elf a bag of gold.
As the sun began to set, Jon walked up the trail to Jastra’s cottage, a large sack over one shoulder. He found the messenger, Steve, standing in front of the foot with his arms crossed.
“Hey, Steve, what’s up?” Jon asked, keeping his distance.
“Semrestassa has informed me to allow no one save Jonathan Wild entrance,” Steve replied in his gusty voice and he stepped aside.
Inside, Jastra was sitting at the table, still reading the book of curses. She smiled weakly and had dark circles under her eyes.
“You should get some rest, Miss Jastra,” Jon said with some concern.
“I know, but I’ve already learned so much and I think I’m close to finding where Hmau is,” Jastra said, sounding as weak as she looked, “I got word he’s on the Eighth Titanic Abyss of the Lost.”
“I heard he lives in the Indomitable Fortress of Madness,” Jon said, “Would that be on the Eighth Titanic Abyss of the Lost?”
“I think so.”
Jon ruffled around in his sack and withdrew a silver platter with a lid. He put a bookmark in Jastra’s book, closed it, and set the platter in front of her.
“Hey!” she protested.
“I told you I’d come back with food, Miss Jastra,” Jon said, “and you look like you could use a nice oven-roasted chicken.”
By the time Jastra retired to her room and Jon fell asleep under the table, the oven-roasted chicken had been completely devoured. Steve remained ever vigilant at the door, observing the night in silence. The night, however, was not as silent as he was. Three dark shapes slowly approached the front door from the trees.
“I must ask you to leave,” Steve requested.
The shapes moved ever closer, ignoring the messenger. They drew swords, but Steve was incapable of fear, not that he would be afraid of mere blades.
The closest figure attacked Steve, but he deflected it with the back of his hand. A blade shot out of the bottom of Steve’s wrist and he sliced the opponent before him. The dark figure withdrew and the other two attacked. Steve another blade from the bottom of his other wrist and defeated them with a flurry of steel. The three attackers charged at once, and Steve became a crimson blur as he appeared behind the middle one, slit what was hopefully its throat, and sliced the two on either side in what was hopefully their throats, causing them to flip through the air and crash to the ground. To make sure the job was done right, Steve moved in front of the middle one, grabbed its sword arm with his iron grip, and open-palm punched it in the chest. The gruesome crunch would have delighted Steve if he had feelings, but it brought him only the knowledge that two more such attackers remained, and they quickly fled into the night, and the darkness that enshrouded the attacker began to dissipate.
“Steve!” Jon shouted as he opened the door, “What the- what the hell is that?”
Steve held the crushed body of a humanoid lizard up by one arm. The sword it dropped had many strange runes engraved in it, and it wore strange chainmail armor. A strange and memorable symbol was branded into the creature’s forehead.
“Jonathan Wild, three intruders came and, while one was defeated, the others fled,” Steve recounted the encounter.
“That’s no good. That’s no good at all. Someone wants us dead, Steve.”
Jon decided to sleep in front of the door, should any intruders decide to come back. Steve patrolled the area, keeping a sharp look out for anything, but no more visitors decided to show.
In the morning, Jastra woke up feeling refreshed. She found Jon huddled in front of the door and she moved him out of the way enough to open the door and slide out. No sooner had she left that Jon was woken up by her scream and the door slammed into his head as Jastra ran back inside.
“Jon! There’s something outside!” she panicked.
“Steve took care of it, it’s cool,” he calmly replied through the intense pain.
“But-“
“Take Steve with you if you’re so worried,” Jon snapped before rolling over.
He could hear Jastra and Steve leave and he decided it would be best to sleep in the corner. As he started to fall asleep, he heard two pairs of footsteps walk up. He decided it must be Jastra and Steve returning, but something was not right. The footsteps did not sound right to Jon, but he decided to open the door anyway. Jon narrowly dodged a black blade aimed at his head. He jumped out through the door, kicked over one of the enshrouded attackers, and closed the door behind himself in one fell swoop. Jon twisted and turned through the grasping hands of his attackers and leaped through the air to avoid a sword. His dagger found its way into the chest of one attacker, then into the throat of the other. The darkened figures continued to slash the air as Jon dodged and weaved through their attacks with relative ease. Slash after slash, stab after stab, he felt like he was hitting a tarp with a stick. Jon’s dagger became wickedly serrated as he became irritated at how he was not harming his foes. He cleaved through the sword and into the throat of a shadow-enshrouded attacker with a mighty slice. Blood splattered and the body fell to the ground in a gurgling heap.
“Jon!” Jastra shouted as she and Steve came up the trail.
As Jon turned to face Jastra, the last attacker plunged its black sword into Jon’s back and out his chest. Steve sprinted and punched the last dark attacker, sending it flying into a tree with a loud, bone-crunching thud.
“Argh!” Jon screamed as he fell to his knees, “Someone please take this sword out of my back!”
Steve removed the blade from Jon’s body, causing him to cough up blood. Jastra slowly walked over to Jon, fear and uncertainty plaguing her every step.
“J-Jon?”
“Yes, Miss Jastra?”
“Are... are you-“
“Going to die? Hardly.”
Jon stood up and lifted up his vest and shirt to inspect the wound. Fine, glowing strands inside the wound began to pull the flesh and tissue back together, and Jon held back a cry of pain while it did so. The blood on his clothes glowed for an instant and vanished.
“Another curse?”
“Yeah,” Jon coughed, “I’m just glad I wasn’t wearing my cloak.”
“When the darkness faded from the corpses, they saw that the one with a slashed throat was another lizardman and the one lying in an awkward position next to a tree was a human. Jastra examined the bodies while Jon walked inside.
He took out a sewing needle and a spool of black thread from a pocket in his vest. Then, he took of his vest and shirt and laid them on the table. As he threaded the needle, Jastra walked in.
“This is bad,” she said almost to herself.
“Yeah it is, I’m almost out of black thread,” Jon said.
“Put your shirt back on!” Jastra said as she turned away from Jon in embarrassment.
“Hey, it’s not like I’m walking around without pants, but that’s beside the point. What were you about to say that was so bad?”
“The bodies out there,” she explained, still turned away from Jon, “are tainted with demonic energy to a degree I didn’t think was possible.”
“You’re right, that is bad. As soon as I stitch up my vest, we should leave.”
Jon put his newly repaired shirt back on and Jastra turned back around, her face still red. Before Jon could begin stitching up his vest, Steve walked in through the door.
“Semrestassa Jastra, more demonic entities were spotted moving through the treeline,” Steve said.
“Screw it, we’re leaving now,” Jon said as he put the needle in thread back in their pocket, “Miss Jastra, use the stone and return to the Guild, Steve and I will-“
“Not this time, dammit!” Jastra interrupted, “We’re all leaving, RIGHT NOW! Steve, lock the door and come over here.”
Steve locked the door and stood in the center of the room, Jon put his vest and cloak on hastily and slung his sack of loot over one shoulder, and Jastra grabbed a bag with several changes of clothes from her bedroom and her hat.
“Ready?” she asked.
“Umm, y-yeah?” Jon said with uncertainty.
Jastra spoke some words in a language incomprehensible to Jon and a brilliant blue glow shone from under their feet. Before Jon realized what was going on, they were gone.
“Miss Jastra?”
“What?”
“Where the hell are we?”
Jastra and Jon surveyed the wasteland they found themselves in. The ground was ashen from millennia of neglect, and the sparse trees that dotted the rolling hills looked completely lifeless. A dark bird of some sort flew by in the distance. Gray, oily fog rolled through the valleys between the hills. The sky was overcast with brown clouds.
“We’re on the Eighth Titanic Abyss of the Lost. Hey, there’s a big castle in the distance over there,” Jastra said and pointed to the looming silhouette in the distance, “Let’s start with that.”
Jastra pushed the fog away with a magical gust of wind. They walked over to the barren hills for quite some distance before Jastra needed to sit and rest.
“I’m sorry, guys,” Jastra apologized as she sat down on a rock, “This is really exhausting.”
“No apologies necessary, Miss Jastra,” Jon said as he handed her a waterskin from the sack.
As Jon and Jastra rested, Steve kept on the lookout for anything suspicious. Jastra took a drink from the waterskin and sighed in relief. Jon put his tinted glasses in a vest pocket and rubbed his eyes. He pulled a pair of snakeskin boots out of the sack and unstrapped his own boots.
“Where’d you get those, or should I even ask?” Jastra asked.
“I snagged ‘em from some guy’s house in Glassica. Same place I got the food and, well, everything else here. Say,” he said as he looked at the inscription on the heel of one of the snakeskin boots, “is this ‘Siegfried Darkweave’ guy very important?”
“Oh no, not at all,” Jastra replied, the sarcasm dripping from her tongue like blood from a blade.
“Oh, good,” Jon said cheerfully as he put the snakeskin boots on, “Oh, and if you don’t mind, Miss Jastra, could you call me ‘Snake’ from now on?”
Jastra gave him a look that easily and instantly conveyed “You’ve got to be joking.”
“What? As a man with no name to call his own, I demand the right to change the name I go by at a moments notice.”
“Alright fine.”
“So, are you ready to go?”
“Yeah.”