Malinon Guild Outpost. Pax, 33rd.

“So, explain it to me again.” Said Stan, the outpost officiant for the regional guild branch, “What happened out there, and why did you bring a comatose elfling back nearly naked on a donkey. I didn’t even know you owned a donkey, Bart.”

“Aye, the donkey belongs to a cousin of a cousin of Kurt, a stand-up fellow for a halfling. Not very tall as halflings go, but still a stand-up guy.”

“Ok… so the girl?” Stan prodded, trying to keep the man focused, Bart had waylaid many an important discussion through lack of attentiveness and his frustrating talent for drawing people into a story. He would have made a better Bard.

“Yah, damndest thing. We found her in the forest, near-abouts to where the rumors and such were spreading from. You remember, ye contracted us to investigate.”

“I remember.” Said Stan with a slow nod, “So you went into the forest, and then you found the girl. How?”

“I was getting’ to that.” Complained Bart, “Yer worse than Kurt at listening. Anyway, we were walking about and tracking all the leads, proper investigating. That’s when Kurt and myself heard a scream, like a loud My-Wife-Saws-a-Spider proper scream from hell. So we followed the sounds and found the girl.”

“Just like that?” queried the guild representative.

“Nah, she was standing on a death mound, a right proper one. There was even a death blossom atop it, frightful things.” Bart took a moment to sip at his low ale before continuing, “You know the ones, their pollen brings in the beasties, incites a riot, monsters fight and die, winner eats flower and dies like the rest only to be food for the next seasons growth. That flower there, and she was just standing there holding back the mini-beast tide.”

“Really?” asked Stan, his eyebrows now arching upward threatening his low brimmed cap.

“Yah, she was ready to wage a right and proper war. I mean, she woulda died right quick, but she was standing there ready.” Bart nodded sagely into his cup as he hid a grin. “That’s when we jumped in to save the girl, was only proper. Kurt did his arrow-meets-spleen bit, and I just went in and chopped the meat, simple really. The lass did some light work with a mean looking boars’ tusk too.”

“A tusk?” asked Stan, not catching the rise of interest in his own voice.

“Damndest thing, right? No knife, no clothes, and I doubt the girl has bathed in a thrice-cursed month. She smelled almost as bad as the offal when we finished.” Bart chuckled deep and low, his Charisma peaking, “The donkey did not appreciate it’s burden.”

“You don’t say, so the girl came peaceably?”

“I would not be saying peacefully, thought it be hard to do something the rough way while you’re unconscious.”

“You didn’t!?” Motes of outrage filtered through Stan’s voice at the thought of his members committing such deeds.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“Nah, she passed right out, plus straight away when the fighting was done. There was a moment thought, just before it happened where I sensed something off with her. And I’m not just talking about those purple eyes, we all know elves have weird flowery colored eyes.”

“Something off, you say?”

“Aye, off. She was putting out some strange aura, I had my detection spells going.”

“Yes, yes. Detect Magic and Detect aura, I saw those in your file. Fancied yourself a cleric in your youth?”

“Nay, I picked those up well after I was heading down the woodsman path. Got ‘em to help me figure out when the kids be lying about who broke what at home. The devils be thinking their old man isn’t on to ‘em.”

Stan looked puzzled for a few moments before he guffawed loudly in his chair, the wind escaping the man’s lungs as he laugh-coughed sent his guild report papers flying in all directions. Reports on ore transport shipments, merchant convoys, and other unread missives from local branches all tumbling to the ground in lazy bobbing arcs on an unseen air current.

“Oh, apologies.” Said Stan as he went about grabbing up the papers, Bart likewise bent to the floor grabbing at some of the sheets, neither of them noticed the small letter bearing a brown seal from the South Jaga branch as it slid between the floorboards down into the rarely explored crawlspace.

“So, which detection spell got triggered?” asked a now rapt and curious Stan after nearly stacking and stowing his paper. Really, he should not be keeping guild correspondence out while in meetings with his subordinate members. “Aura or Magic?”

“Neither.”

“Neither, what do you mean? How could something be off, or how could you tell otherwise?” Stan’s curious mind could not help be race ahead of the building suspense he felt. He would need to invest in some attribute building for his own charisma, or better yet wisdom.

Bart took a moment to hide a blush behind his mug, “About that.

Now Stan was much more intrigued, Bart was hiding something.

“I may have been negligent in reporting some of my new skills.”

“New skills? So, we don’t require you to tell us everything. We aren’t the Arcane University; some secrets are to be expected for our members privacy.”

“Aye, but this one is on the list.” Bart hesitated for a few seconds, “Ya’ see I didn’t want to get picked for certain jobs and such, so I’ve been hesitating to tell anyone.”

“Tell anyone what exactly?” Stan said, leaning forward in a gesture of conspiratorial collaboration.

“I may have picked up Detect Curse on my last age day.” Bart whispered into his mug, barely loud enough for Stan to catch.

“You picked up Detect Curse, on your age day?” Stan repeated, somewhat lost in thought.

“Aye, upon the return I received the skill. Never thought I’d see the day.”

“When was this?”

“Last Winter Solstice, the very second of Turning’s end.”

Stan sat back in his chair, thinking. It wasn’t strange to be awarded spells or skills at the celebration of Turning. What was odd is that it was a skill Bart confessed to not wanting, and at his age. It was strange as most people his age would normally receive a small boost to an attribute, or sometimes a skill-point for furthering their own knowledge, if the gods deemed them worthy.

“Well, that can stay between us then. We don’t have much work with Curses at this branch, and besides O’Leary would not take kindly to someone else taking up his curse detection detail. I won’t even include the curse in the report.” Stan made a few marks on his file before shuffling it into the black and gold envelope for the next Courrier to come through for official reports.

“Shouldn’t we tell someone the girl is cursed? She should be sent to a proper temple for cleansing.” Bart asked, “The girl should not be made to suffer from whatever that mark is for the sake of one old man’s shirked duty.”

“Relax.” Stan said, nodding even as he raised his hands in peace, “We will send a report with the girl on her way up to North Jaga, the guild will make sure she gets cleansed and is properly cared for so we can discover more about her. It’s in the report I just filed away.”

“Aye, see that we do. Have I told you she looks a lot like my oldest daughter, though not near as lovely.

The evening passed slowly as the men shared storied words of exploits, family, and better days. The world’s worries slipping from their minds as if by magic. Had the report not been filed, they may have all but forgotten the event had even occurred.