— Marsaili Stonefury —

After the air elemental summoned by one of the clergy members seated at the reference desk, had flitted off into the temple Marsaili had found an out of the way spot near the desk to wait. After a moment's consideration she decided to find a place to stand instead of one to sit.

The chairs she could see weren’t exactly fragile, no chair intended to hold up to sturdy leather and metal heavy dwarven fashion could be, but they were also not intended to be used by a persian in full plate armor.

Marsaili may have long since ceased to notice the weight or sharp edges of her heavy armor but she was not so inconsiderate that she neglected the effect it would have on the property of others.

Eventually, she settled on standing in an alcove at the base of the statue, formed by the living coral protruding from the statue’s base. It was a comfortable enough place to wait, with decent lines of sight and enough cover provided by the coral growths to prevent anyone bothering her.

That was likely why when Keir emerged from behind some bookshelves some tens of minutes after Marsaili had settled in to wait, Keir didn’t immediately spot her.

Marsaili had planned to immediately step out and greet the elven warrior but she found herself examining her new friend with a bit of concern. There was something slightly off about the way Keir was moving.

Keir wasn’t walking like a person who was wounded, so it took Marsaili a moment to recognize the issue. Keir was moving with the odd tension and gentleness of someone who’d either been injured severely and repeatedly enough that their body still felt off after being healed, or a person whose wounds went beyond their physical body. It was like she subconsciously expected moving to cause whatever aches she felt to worsen and was continually surprised when it didn’t.

After a few moments Marsaili began to feel awkward watching her elven friend looking for her, so she stepped out and approached. As she did, she noticed the small form of the elemental standing happily on Keir’s right shoulder.

Marsaili had barely stepped out of the shallow alcove when Keir caught sight of her, smiled tiredly and made a beeline for her. When they were close enough that they could be heard easily without speaking loudly Marsaili said “Are ya still up fer a drink, lass? Ya look exhausted.”

Keir let out a little chuckle that sounded as tired as her smile had looked and said “Oh, I am definitely ready for a drink. I’ll even buy the first round.”

Marsaili hesitated for a moment but decided to take Keir at her word and said “I’ll nay make ya buy a drink from me ta give me, lass. I’m takin ya ta my husband’s distillery. After ya’ve had a few glasses yer gunna admit tha’ dwarven whisky’s better’n any rum ye ever had.”

Some of the steel returned to Keir’s posture and her strange abyssal eyes as she said “I look forward to some excellent whisky that almost equals Steel Coast rum. Lead on friend." With that said she turned to look at the elemental on her shoulder and said “If you want, and are able to, you are welcome to join us little one.”

The little harpy-like figure looked excited. Unfortunately that didn’t last long. As they approached the door the elemental began to lose definition, parts of its form almost seeming to drift apart like dissipating clouds. Clearly its task was considered complete and the mana fed to it by the summoning that sustained its form was automatically cut off.

There was a definite note of disappointment in Keir’s voice when she said “I’m sorry little one. I don’t have any means to contract with, or summon, you.”

The little elemental looked disappointed but resigned as it waved, even as the rest of its form returned back to inert air.

As the pair left the temple, Marsaili looked back and saw that Keir was obviously somewhat disappointed but not exactly sad. The little elemental wasn’t dead, it had simply returned to the elemental plane of air.

Even still they were fairly quiet as they made their way down into the transportation hub and called up a tram cart.

Fortunately the quiet was not overly awkward and as they first rode the cart and then walked along the twisting warren of streets, alleys, and tunnels of the industrial area they had been in earlier that day, they conversed more often.

The district was silent but only perhaps one in ten shops still rang with the sounds of hammers on metal or stone.

There were times, especially when she was exhausted from training or returning from the border with The Great Beast Steppes, that Marsaili wished the transport system connected to the cavern walls and the chambers within it.

On nights like this, however, as she walked through the streets with a new friend as the crystals that lit the city shifted from the reddish orange of artificial sunset to the dark purple of night, Marsaili was happy for the walk.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

— Serilda —

For what must have been at least the twentieth time since she’d first started her patrol, Serilda caught her foot on some protruding element of the undergrowth, or perhaps a root concealed by it. Just like every time before, as she barely kept herself from tumbling arse over anvil down the hill, she wished she was in the saddle.

Unfortunately, much of the area she’d been assigned to was too densely wooded for the large horned rams her unit was known for to move comfortably. Not that the terrain was much better suited to dwarf wearing full plate armor, though at least she carried the warpick she favored for dismounted combat instead of the long handled calvary ax or an unfamiliar borrowed weapon a few of the eight soldiers in her patrol were forced to contend with..

As she removed herself from the bush she’d half fallen into she was somewhat pulled out of her annoyed funk as she heard a series of thunks and clangs followed by a pair of voices cursing in dwarven. She couldn’t immediately identify the voices but clearly she wasn’t the only one who was not well prepared for traipsing around in dense forest.

Her troops had fought well and mostly without too much complaint but now that their patrol was finished and they were on their way back to camp the cracks were definitely showing. Not only were they all tired they had left camp scarcely after it was set up and only Serilda had any real confirmation of the fate of their friends or family in the village. Even Serilda had only a few minutes to speak with her elven friend and most of that time was her receiving her orders.

As Serilda finished extracting herself from the bush she’d fallen halfway into, she saw the pair of soldiers who’d taken a tumble, untangling themselves from each other and the rotten log they’d landed on.

Fortunately, one of the soldiers placed under her command for the patrol was classed as Stone Horn Outrider. It wasn’t purely a scout class, but it was close enough there was little risk of getting lost in the dense, weirdly quiet forest.

It was no more than an hour later, only perhaps ten minutes of that spent traveling, she’d returned to camp, given her report, tended to her gear, and was making her way towards the village. Specifically she was making her way towards the tavern in the village where she’d agreed to meet with Lovisa.

Walking through the streets of the village was a surreal and somewhat uncomfortable experience. Every building showed obvious signs of damage and deterioration. Some had mostly or fully collapsed into ruble. It was clear that some effort had been made to clear the streets of rubble and bodies, but the wooden walkways were rotten and overgrown. More disturbing were the occasional bones of humanoids or serpents protruding from the dirt or half concealed in the grass and weeds that grew everywhere there was dirt to grow in.

At once both more disconcerting and more comforting was the villagers moving about under the late afternoon sun. On one hand it was somewhat startling to round a corner and almost run into a moss and lichen coated ghoul or have a spectral undead step out of a solid wall. On the other it was heartening to see the myriad undead in the process of rebuilding the lives they lost.

There was clearly some degree of tension and perhaps some bitterness but it wasn’t difficult for Serilda to get directions to the Root and Bough tavern. Actually getting there was slightly more complicated though not too difficult. She was apparently too used to the complex warren of Stonesheild and over thought the relatively straightforward directions she’d received.

Like much of the village, the tavern was clearly a well made, if simple, structure that was just as clearly showing the damage left by the fall of the village and the deterioration of the intervening years.

That trend carried over to the interior. The common room was a bit sparsely furnished in a way that seemed to indicate that at least a few tables and chairs had not survived.

Serilda barely noticed however as her eyes were instantly fixed on the familiar form of Visa sitting at the bar speaking to the harpy woman standing on the other side of the counter.

About half the seats in the tavern were filled with a mixture of living dwarves and various undead. Rather than call out to her friend over the noise of all the conversations going on, Serilda made her way towards the bar.

She made it most of the way across the room before the tavern keeper flicked her eyes in Serilda’s direction and Visa turned to follow her eye line.

While the signs of undeath were clear on her friend’s face, that wasn’t what caused Serilda to pause midstep. It was instead seeing the face of a person dear to her that she thought she’d lost forever. She could feel the smile growing on her face, mirrored by the smile she saw on Visa’s.

After a moment Visa made the first move, pulling out the stool beside her as she said “Come on and take a seat. Did you eat at camp? Do you still prefer that gnomish schnapps? Oh, you haven’t met Lin have you?”

If Serilda had suspected her friend was being puppeted around she’d have been a lot less suspicious after that. Visa always tended to babble like that when she was startled or excited.

Serilda let out a chuckle and as she sat on the stool she said “I dinnae think ye ‘ave any idea how much I’ve missed yer rambling. Ta answer yer questions; I came ‘ere soon as I finished patrolin’, It’s not been so long since I saw ye last that I changed my drink a choice. An what was the last thing?” As she asked that she noticed the harpy had an amused grin that jogged her memory. “Oh, that’s right. I’ve yet to meet yer friend. Or is she perhaps more’n jus’ a friend?”

From what Serilda knew about her friend it was only some quirk of her undead state that kept a vibrant flush off her face, especially when the harpy chuckled and said “Oh, we’re good friends alright but I’m happily married. Also just between us you must have passed the object of her interests on the road. It’s good to meet you, I’m Mesalin. What type of schnapps is it you want?”

Serilda wasn’t sure but her first instincts, along with the fact she was a friend of Visa’s, she was pretty sure she was going to get along well with Mesalin. “I’m glad ta meet ya as well, name’s Serilda. I’ll take a glass a any ember-berry schnapps ya got, if ya ya got any. After that I want ta hear all about the one tha’s caught my dear friends eye.”

With that Serilda sat back with a happy smile while Mesalin retrieved a copper bottle and a glass as Visa rattled off denials that were not remotely convincing.