Ansan, known as the Jewel of the Grieving Lands, is the seat of power of the Children of the Tides. The city has an insatiable hunger for slaves, which is its very lifeblood, acquired through both trade and their mercenary campaigns where payment is more often demanded in flesh than in gold.
The city's greatest exports are the result of suffering and bloodshed. The high-quality iron from its mines and fine lumber harvested from the nearby Sainba forest are its greatest assets and are famous throughout the known world. Lying along the famous Dust merchant route, the city is a veritable hub of trade. It is said that anything can be purchased in Ansan, for a price.
Beyond the Sainba forest lies the untamed frontier of the Wildlands, the hunting grounds of the Adventurer's Guild. It is a place of great danger, where only the bravest or the foolhardiest venture to collect rare and valuable materials.
- The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC.
Defiantly, I held my tongue. Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see that both of my companions had been similarly accosted by the hooded group. Slowly, we all raised our hands in the universal sign of surrender, completely powerless before them.
Two of their number came to face us, both lithe and predatory in their movements, talking to each other in a strange language that was unknown to me. Their words were soft and lilting, and it was difficult to recognize if they were singing or speaking to one another. Needing to know what they were saying, I went through the mental gymnastics required to cast Identify silently on their words.
“One of the Tide’s Honored Ones,” said the one to the left, who was considerably shorter than all the others in the group. The figure turned in my direction, “A middlingly gifted one at that. We should just leave them here, and quickly. We need no more complications. Also, the death of an Honored one will...” The words turned back into incomprehensible yet pleasantly lilting singsong as my spell faded.
I noticed, even in my rising panic, that the smaller one in front of me was probably female. She had said something about me being gifted, and I tried to parse its meaning, but the slight curves of her feminine form drew my eye, and I cursed inwardly at the momentary distraction. Curled blonde ringlets fell around eyes that held all the deadly playfulness of a cat toying with a doomed mouse.
The knife pressed a little harder against my throat, almost drawing blood, and drew me back to the desperation of my current predicament. Gifted must mean magic user, I concluded rapidly.
There seemed to be some disagreement between the two leaders about our fate. I had to know more about who had waylaid us, so I stole another glance at the small blonde one who had recognized me as a magic user. Desperately clutching at straws, I cast an Identify in her direction. The spell appeared to be resisted to some degree, taking far too long before providing some clarity.
Arimea Lostariot - Spellsinger (Wood Elf lvl.19)
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Health: 176/180
Stamina: 31/32
Mana: 13/17
I kept my expression neutral as I went over the information. At the same time, my eyes scanned left and right in search of an opening. These were elves, but I had little idea how I could use that to my advantage to wriggle us out of this situation. My mind raced through every myth, legend, and modern portrayal of elves, but none offered any insight into how I might escape this situation. The only potential advantage I could recall was that elves were often physically weaker than humans, but that seemed of little use in our current predicament. Also, almost all of my second-hand knowledge agreed that elves were portrayed to be as deadly as they were mysterious.
If the elf I had identified earlier was any indication, this group was not to be trifled with. Their strength was clear. But I had to keep searching for a way out, a glimmer of hope that might yet save us. A growing sense of powerlessness and frustration came over me; I needed more information, so I cast Identify silently on their conversation again.
“Bah, the day spawn’s Honored Ones kill each other all the time in their futile power struggles. Make it look like another of their mindless killings…” one of the elves, indistinguishable from others, added to the conversation.
“...We must keep up our efforts to find the Daughter of Chaos. She is close, our informants at the guild...and this will be a poor salve for your revenge. Remember our mandate,” said the one on the right, tersely, in a clipped male voice, like a teacher reminding a child of a forgotten fact.
I was taken aback by the masculinity of his voice, for his face was more beautiful than it was handsome. Even in the poor light, a jagged scar that was intertwined with creases of concern did little to detract from that beauty. Though I could not fully understand him, I judged by his manner and tone that he was suppressing a deeply buried exasperation. Similar to his comrades, he possessed a lean and svelte frame but was slightly broader at the shoulders than they were.
I burned through another point of Mana on deciphering their words, as adrenaline surged through my veins and beads of sweat formed on my brow as I struggled to focus on their conversation.
“...They have seen our faces. If we are to deal with them, be quick about it. We must hurry on. Time is of the essence, and seconds count. We must make it within the city boundary soon, for I cannot keep this veil up forever...” said Arimea, the figure on the left, and I could hear a budding frustration growing in her musical voice.
“How did they even pierce your veil, Lady Lostariot? Such magics should be beyond the day spawn,” another of her attendants ventured.
You have gained 1 Wisdom.
Panic was beginning to seize me even as the notification flashed across my mind’s view and my bladder grew heavy in fear. Before I could cast another spell, the pair seemed to have reached a decision, made clear by the one on the right nodding to the elf behind me.
A knife cut a shallow slash across my throat, and I could feel a numbing sensation followed by my limbs locking up, paralyzed. I crumbled to the ground. Out of the corner of my eye, mere moments later, I saw my companions struck down in a similar fashion, falling to the elves’ blades. A whisper later, the hooded terrors faded into the twilight gray, leaving us for dead.