A flickering, curling pair of lights peer from beneath the hood of a dark cloak. Shimmering with borrowed light, they mirror the nearby blaze. The owner seems uncaring of the creaking and clashing din around her, staring with intensity as if held mid-telling of a riveting tale told through the interpretive dance of flames.
Today has truly been a day of fire, though not like home. The best thing about living in a glacier is that nobody complains about fire — not when you are the protege of the most feared broker in the district, anyway. This place, though, with its languid warmth, its stink, and its dirt—the fire swirls and chokes and brings no comfort. It’s been so long since I made the flame my own that I almost forgot how horrible it could be and how it once swallowed everything I knew. Five times today — five times, did I witness the properties of flame.
First, I remember- the cleansing power of flame in twilight.
Mikara excuses herself from the inn's main hall, opting not to partake in ill-conceived revelry before an important meeting. After entering her assigned room and illuminating it with a simple light cantrip, she spies the small cot along the wall. She can practically feel it crawling over itself with insects and disease. “Disgusting. Be cleansed,” she mutters. Clutching her focal amulet beneath her cloak in one hand and casting the other before her, she whispers a short incantation as a magical fire appears beneath the bed.
She looks on with a grimace as several small beetles and worm-like arthropods escape the burning bedding. The warmer climate here has such disgusting consequences. How many denizens of this region know that these creatures are living and breeding in their houses unchecked?
Her thoughts are suddenly interrupted by a hurried knock at the door. “What’s going on in there? I smell smoke! Open the door!” Mikara belatedly realizes that the bedding, being quite flammable, is now completely engulfed in flame and could threaten to spread to the building before long. She hurriedly removes the magical flame she had maintained beneath the bed before running to the door.
“Oh, thank the gods you came! I don’t know how, but my bed caught on fire!” she gestures towards the burning mattress before releasing a slight cough. The barkeeper, who already has a pail of water, rushes into the room and douses the mattress by pouring water from the large pail across it. He quickly hops back as embers and steam billow toward them.
“Shit. The whole thing’s ruined,” he says, looking down at the slushy embers that were once a modest bed. “How did-” he pauses and looks at Mikara’s face before sighing and changing his mind, “Actually, don’t tell me. I don’t care. Just pay me 80 silvers for the bed and clean up the rest of the mess here.” Mikara silently pulls several large silver coins from her pouch and hands them to Garon, the barkeeper, and he stomps slowly back to the bar, muttering curses under his breath.
Second, I remember- the illuminating power of flame at dawn.
“I am grateful that we could gather five people for the venture,” Kerowyn Hucrele says evenly. “The citadel is known to be somewhat dangerous, especially with goblins, wolves, and rodents about. Are you all agreed regarding the compensation? 200 gold in total, split five ways, so 40 each.”
“Mmmm, could you throw in a few bottles of that wine you brought out earlier?” Katnira, the dwarf, asks, eyebrows raised in a hopeful expression. Lady Hucrele looks towards Jeffrey, who is standing beside her, and simply shrugs.
“Fine, two bottles of Red Dragon Crush, though you’ll have to work out how to split it yourselves.”
“Fine with me!” The dwarf nods, and everyone else indicates their acceptance as well.
“Very good. Off with you lot, now. I’ve agreed with house Jorasco to supply some tents and rations for your trek.” The monk bows politely before walking to the solid oak door at the room’s exit. Turning to exit as well, Mikara once more feels, more than sees, an arcane flicker around the butler and a hint of gray.
Something about him is not as it seems - a magical disguise, perhaps? Mikara doesn’t betray her thoughts immediately and instead proceeds to exit the room with the rest of the party.
Exiting the manor through the front of the small wooden shop, Ardy the Half-orc speaks up, “Have any of you spoken with the constable? I investigated the surrounding farms, but I have yet to speak with the local law enforcement.”
Darfin, the dragon-blooded paladin, nods, “I have not, but that is a good idea. I say we go there and speak with her first.”
“I wonder if she’d have an additional reward if our work includes clearing out goblins. Garon did say they were short-staffed,” Katnira adds.
“That's good thinking. It can never hurt to coordinate with local officials,” Devinches, the elven monk, adds.
Agreeing, the four head towards the constabulary building, which doubles as a jail. Mikara, however, lingers behind, saying only, “There is something more I wish to learn here. I will join you at the jail after.”
Carefully peeking back through the front door of the small shop she had exited minutes before, she discreetly slips inside again. Retracing her steps towards the manor, she carefully creeps through the building until she sees a flickering light shining from a keyhole. Quietly, she creeps up to the door and looks through. She sees Lady Hucrele speaking quietly with Jeffrey and tries to make out their words by the candlelight.
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“Jeffrey, I am not hopeful that my children are alive. Thank you, though. I could not have formed the search party without your help. Even if they find naught but their remains, at least I will have closure.”
“Mistress, I am always at your service.” Jeffrey takes her hand and kneels before her.
Lady Hucrele gently caresses his cheek and whispers, “I will need a new heir, Jeffrey. Can … can you help me acquire one?” Jeffrey gasps in surprise, and, in a lapse of concentration, the spell around him fails. Where a white-haired human once stood, a gray-skinned drow gazes up towards his mistress.
“Misstress, you require my assistance in …” he says hesitantly, “producing an heir?”
She smiles down at him, “Do you accept?” as she leans towards him, bringing their lips to…
N-Nope. Nope.Nope.Nope.
Mikara quickly scuttles away from the door as quietly as possible, wondering why she bothered sating her curiosity. What self-respecting drow would accept a human mistress anyway? She’d burn this memory out of her head if she could.
Third, I remember- the transforming power of flame at noon.
“Well, I know it’s not goblins. I talked to a couple of farmers on the way here yesterday and investigated their fields,” the half-orc explains. “Whatever we are hunting is stealthy, walks like a spider, pierces its prey, and then sucks out its insides like a mosquito.” He frowns at the end, “I don’t know what it is exactly, but it is a disgusting abomination.”
“Well, there are several more farms along the road to the south. It may be worth stopping to check if we meet anyone,” Darfin adds.
Everyone agreed as the party of five trekked southwards with their packs as the wind stilled and the sun rose in the sky. Not but two hours later, they came upon a small farm where a farmer was busy tying the legs of a lifeless cow that lay on the ground with a cart nearby - presumably to take it off to be butchered.
Ardy approached the fenced area and politely called out to the farmer, “Excuse me, sir. Was this cow attacked overnight? The constable hired us to investigate and purge the monsters here.”
The farmer quickly stops what he’s doing and approaches the fence, “Ah, Harold said he met you before. ‘Bout time they did something about it. And, yeah, this one was attacked last night. Come on and take a look if you want. I was just about to take it to the shed and butcher it. No point in wasting what’s left of it.” He opens a spot in the fence and gestures with his head, “Come on.”
Soon, with six people around the animal carcass, Ardy bends down to investigate, “Well, it looks mostly the same as what I’ve seen before. It’s not goblins, that's for sure.” He takes a few moments to inspect the ground nearby, “It doesn’t look like it was dragged at all. I suspect multiple smaller creatures attacked it and not a large one.”
“Are you drooling?” Darfin suddenly asks the dwarf.
“I haven’t eaten since breakfast, ok? And freshly butchered beef is way better than dried jerky.”
The farmer chuckles loudly and says, “Well, if y’all are going to hunt down these monsters, I guess I can spare a bit of this cow here.”
Half an hour later, they are gathered around a magical bonfire, watching skewered beef strips transform into juicy steaks through the power of flame.
Fourth, I remember- the energizing power of flame at dusk.
“Remember, we don’t know what they look like, but be alert for any suspicious movements or sounds,” Ardy says before he heads off to bed, leaving Mikara awake for her watch. They are camped in a large clearing just north of the citadel, visible past the impressive ravine below them. Or, it would be if she could see that far in the inky darkness.
She waits attentively, trying to concentrate on the sounds around her. She hears nothing but the wind in the trees and a faint creaking of wood. An hour passes, and another. She prepares to wake the paladin for his watch when she hears the faint snapping of twigs and a creak behind her. She sees nothing but bushes.
There were no bushes here before! Mind racing, she quickly forms a bolt of fire and shoots it toward the bush, which skitters sideways before she hears a cacophony of scraping and swishing sounds from all around them.
“Wake up! We’re under attack!” she shouts. She directs a few embers towards her companions to ensure everyone wakes up, singeing them awake if they aren't already.
Fifth, I know- the ever-present protection of flame.
“Ow, I’m Up!” Katnira exclaims before looking around. “Where’s the monsters?”
“They look like plants,” Mikara says, shooting a fire bolt at one of them, resulting in a chilling wail and crackling branches.
“That’s why they’re so stealthy. They blend right into the trees.” Ardy mumbles as he lifts his spiked weapon and charges at a pair of moving bushes.
Everyone quickly rouses and rushes at the moving bushes around them. As Devinches unleashes a powerful kick into the center of a moving bush, something shoots from behind it and buries itself in his shoulder.
“Aaaagh,” He yells in pain and surprise, “They can attack from a distance! The damned things throw twigs as if they were arrows!” as he grabs the bush in front of him, snapping its branches apart, before retreating towards the campfire.
Darfin rushes up from behind him, shield ahead and sword drawn. “I will try to block the shooters with my shield. Let us attack together—if you still can,” looking at Devinches’s shoulder.
“Hah, this is nothing,” Devinches replies, clenching his teeth, pulling the sharp sliver of wood out of his arm, and throwing it to the ground, “Let’s go.” They rush toward the bunch of needle-tossing bushes, only to skid to a stop as a giant bonfire suddenly flickers into being underneath their targets.
They look back to see the strange drow woman behind them grinning beneath her hood. Fire dancing in her eyes, she chants spells as she tosses bits of fire this way and that. Hideous, creaking wails and cracking branches fill the night air as Devinches and Darfin look on.
After a moment of thought, Devinches says, “I’m worried about the future, Darfin.”
“Why?”
“I’m not fire resistant.”