Morgan Rue's Posts (7)

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The Adventurer’s Cookbook: To Feed a Party

Upon opening the cooking lesson, via a magic scroll… An holographic projection of the pre-recorded lesson appears from the face of the parchment! Standing before a campfire was a little witch with blue hair, a massive hat and some big baggy robes that looked a size or two too big for her. Beside her was a much taller, be it an average height woman, but compared to the small witch, she was a foot and some change taller. The taller woman was also a witch, with a mage college uniform and crest present on her coat. She had long reddish pink locks and a hat with a crown of scrolls upon it. Both wore a big smile as the lesson began.

“Hi! I’m Morgan Rue! And this is my sister Serana! Today we are doing a project for her college cla-” The red haired witch, Serana cut off Morgan with a rude nudge of her hip, bumping the little one a bit. But she continued on. “Today we are learning how to cook at the campfire for efficiency and tastiness! To keep your spirits up, your mana ready and your belly full!” The little witch pulled up a large beef steak by the large bone that protruded out from the side of it. She’d pulled it from somewhere off shot from the projection… so it was hard to guess what was going to come next from this… “Basics” class. As amateur as it was, there was a bit of coin that seemed to go into the steak at least…

The little blue haired witch continued, holding the large steak with two hands on the bone… it was significant in size compared to her body… and so she began to talk with a strain in her

voice. “This big ole’ steak will feed one person a BIG meal! OR - It can feed a couple of people a small to medium sized meal! Remember- Portions are everything when you’re traveling with a party! Today we will learn how to feed both!” She smiled wide and focused on the  hot coals of the campfire. She took the steaks and placed them right on the coals…

To which the other witch just about had a heart attack. A large gasp escaped her lips “Morgan!! YOU’RE GETTING THE STEAK ALL DIRTY!! Use a…a pan or something?!” It was now clear the college witch was fronting the coin for this operation. But Morgan laughed at her sister Serana whom probably was watching a month’s worth of coin lay on a bed of coals. 

“Nonsense, dear sister! You won’t always have a spit, or a pan with you. For cookware can accumulate weight and take up space needed for other more important equipment! This is the most simplest way to cook your meat with no fancy shmancy pans or equipment! But, I recommend you take a small bottle or shaker of home spice! A blend of salt and peppercorn, along with other things like paprika or allspice! Which we’ve added to the beef for seasoning beforehand!” Morgan watched the meat sizzle with a big smile.. Serana was less comfortable even after the lecture.

“But when traveling in a group, it is more important to have SOME cookware available. A pot or pan is most recommended! As a spit can be made or composed of skewers, made of sticks found on your travels!” Little Morgan reached over to find her pan off screen once more, and brought it into the focus. Inside the cast iron skillet was cubed pieces of the same type of beef steak that was on the hot coals. “Me and my sister Serana have prepared this before as well! This is a second steak, the same cut as the last but cut into cubes to be shared between party members!” 

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Serana was crying inside, but kept a smile and her composure… but pain could be seen in the windows of her soul. She spoke in a tone of voice that sounded robotic or not-so-well rehearsed. “But Morgan, I’m really hungry. I wear heavy armor, swing big swords and fight baddies all day…” An awkward pause was met as a hand with an iron warrior helmet was crudely placed atop the elder sister’s head. Morgan snickered before the helmet slowly slid off of Serana’s head and fell to the ground. 

“Not to worry, my Barbarian sister! For the portion of meat will not be -ALL- that we are eating! The term Meat and Potatoes, derives from the idea that one mixes meat, the main course with a filling consisting of something cheaper to expand our portions! Potatoes and Rice are both things fairly cheap and can be added to a meat to make potion sizes bigger. Keeping me and my Barbaric sister fed!” With that lecture, the pan of cubed steaks went onto the fire, and the first steak was flipped. A second pot was brought into scene by Serana and handed to Morgan. It appeared to be filled with a cloudy white water and promptly was placed on the hot white coals alongside the meat. 

“Serana.” Morgan spoke, again much like her sister did with a robotic and awkward tone… a fixed tone to assure the question was planned and so be it the answer. “Did you know that different meats take different cooking times and measures?”

 Serana looked dramatically and overly confused, staged in nature. “What do you mean, little sister?” She promptly replies with the same robotic tone and plastic face.

“Our beef has bacteria on the outside that is harmful to humanoids like us, certain races of elves, and half breed races. But not all races are affected by this bacteria. Dragon folk eat raw meat by nature, but not us! However, not all meats can be cooked the same! Bird meats must be cooked well done, along side pig meats. Bird meat carries Salmon-Nilla. Which sounds like a tasty fishy treat! But it’s not!” 

Serana cleared her throat. “Morgan…” She responded in a normal tone and not like the staged words before. “It’s salmonella. Not Salmon-nilla…” Her sister corrected before going back to smiling.

Morgan chose to not respond instead she spoke louder. “Oh boy! Look! Our first steak is done, and the cubes for the party are browning!” She gripped the first steak by the bone and placed it on a wooden plate that was readied before them. “You can eat this steak bloodied or well done as long as you cook the outside with fire!” She grins. “So you don’t have to worry about Salmon Vanilla!” 

The Recording seemed to cut after Serana face palmed hearing her little sister mispronounce the name of the bacteria once again. But when they returned the rice was cooked and the cubed meats were also done. Serana was scooping rice into the bowls as Morgan prepared the servings of cubed meat. “Rice is a good and cheap source of food you can get in abundance for very little coin! Adding small foraged items like wild veggies and fruits or even dried stuff crushed down can add flair and alter the taste of the dish completely! But be warned, it does require a pot at minimum and quite a bit of water!” 

Serana placed forth the bowl of rice and casted a mage light over it to make the dish sparkle some. Presentation was everything especially for the viewer to be entranced over something so simple.. And bland tasting.

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Morgan chimed in. “Wow! Serana, you really packed on that rice! And there’s plenty more where that came from! As I know you're a hungry Barbarian sister of mine!” Morgan laughed some. “I can tell because you’re hip don’t lie! You sure like to eat!” 

Serana laughed nervously. “Okay Morgan, what do we do next?”

“I’m sure you’d like to start eating! Because that seems to be your favorite thing to do! Eat!” Morgan spoke as she readied the meat cubes. “You eat so much I don’t know if there’s gonna be any left for the rest of the party!” Morgan continued to patronize her sister.

“Morgan… that’s enough… What’s the next step in the-” Serana was cut off by Morgan.

“You eat so much! You eat when you’re studying, in your bed, while walking! Heck you probably eat on the toilet!” Morgan laughed. “And for a barbarian you’re gettin’ pretty flabby! No amazons are flabby like you! And-”

A loud thunk was heard as Serana threw the helmet from before at Morgan’s head, to which Morgan let out a crying screech… And the recording cut once more. But it returned! With Morgan and Serana both standing before a bowl of rice with beef cubes a top it with very little garnish. Morgan’s eyes were red and puffy from crying, and her hat was crooked some. Serana was beet red in the cheeks and her hair was kinda messy now. 

10040342501?profile=RESIZE_584xMorgan tried to speak but let out a broken noise that was about to lead her back into crying, so promptly Serana took over and even snatched the bowl from Morgan and stepped in front of her with a forced smile to give off pleasantries. “And there we have it folks! We make a huge steak for one and dinner that can feed a party all with the same cut! Thanks for tuning in and we will see you next time around the campfire! See ya!~”  With a fake charmed laugh the session ended and the scroll rolled itself back up.

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Enchanter, come to see. Enchanter, can you see?

The sound of a fine tuned lute playing melodies echoed through the stone walled chambers of the enchanter’s workshop. The fire crackled in the hearth and the smell of incense tickled the nose. Fingers danced across the strings of the instrument playing a  song that was strong and powerful but also easy on the ears. The enchantress sighs as she begins to get annoyed and couldn’t focus. 

 

“Miss Rue, strum another string on that sodding instrument and I shall bleed you dry… I’ve been at this for days and I can’t focus when you "play" that… sodding hick instrument!” The Blind Enchantress warned the blue haired witch. The instrument stopped upon the threat but soon fell of deaf ears, because Morgan Rue had the willpower of a small child who loved to annoy their siblings. 

 

The witch whines. “Oh Ria, come now! I’m a bard in training, you know?” She giggles, trying to sneak around the blind woman and peek at what she was making.

 

“Morgan, I’m blind… not an idiot. You stole that blasted thing from a bard. Sure you know how to play it, but can’t you do it outside?” The Enchantress shook her head as she tried to focus on beading the crystals onto the chain in her hands. 

 

Rue’s wine colored eyes stared at the crown, necklace, chains, earrings and even the massive chunk of Dark Amethyst… glowing a faint black and purple color. A wicked craft to get into, Morgan thought. A jeweler of types? “Well, I can play you a song that may help fortify your concentration?” Ah, yes.. The age old lie of Morgan singing a song that will fortify any sort of property… Rue knew of no such thing, but the blind enchantress who now wishes she was deaf too, was not going to call her friend a liar. That’s just rude.

 

“Oh, alright… If you know of such tunes. but… perhaps you can stop playing the song of annoyance already? Please?” Ria lets out a small sigh as she tries to bead more crystals into the delicate chain.. Fit for a king. 

 

Rue snickers and finally breaks out into laughter. “Do you have to wear everything you make? N-no, no, never mind! Yes, a song!” She clears her throat and begins to play a soft tune, slow but strong in presence to the room. Like the mix between a lullaby and a song played in the tavern. But just when the tune was getting good, a string snapped and left Morgan with a rude sound to bear, killing her song and tune in one stroke. 

 

“Not bad Rue, it is… quite comforting. Glad this is your repayment for nursing your sorry hide back to health for those long days. About time you made yourself useful. Fortify concentration, hmmm..? Doesn’t seem to have that desired effect, Rue. Perhaps your skills aren’t what you hack them up to be… perhaps you should stick to your potion brewing..” 

 

Morgan sighs, placing the lute down at the edge of the hearth, still rather sore in her back, but she has a seat by the fire. “Yes, yes Miss Ria… It’s good to be back on my feet atlast. I appreciate the help. But as you call home in these dwemer ruins, I call home in Davenport. Quite the journey from here. large stretches of land stands in my way, perhaps I may meet a few people along the roads and Ale houses? Ah yes, Madame Ria… it is good to be back.”

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Ambush in the Bushes

“RUE! HOW IN THE NINE HELLS?!”

Deep in the thick of the forest, The captain of the guard found himself surrounded by Goblin bandits, only with his sword and shield to fend off the surrounding foes. “Damn Gremlins! All are but a pest! I do Davenport a service slaying vermin like you!” A swing of his sword would see one dead and another take his place from the woodwork. “RUE! HOW YA HOLDIN’ UP?!” He’d quickly look over his shoulder to see the little witch caught in a snare trap, holding her several feet above the ground by her foot. The Witch hated heights and REALLY hated being upside down. “Hardy Har Har, Old man! Lemme guess, your next one is “How’s it hanging, Rue?!”

The Captain smirks and continues his growing battle, dodging spears, and blocking stones with the large shield in his off-hand. He’d kick forwards, pushing the horde back, for some more swinging room of course. A large club would meet with the captain’s back. Morgan would cover her eyes with both hands as she slowly swung around in the gentle breeze. “Captain! Are you hurt?!” Responding to the Goblin with the club, was the might and bite of his blade. Removing the Goblin’s head in one thorough swinging motion. The old guard was well balanced in his attacks and his defenses. “RUE! AID ME! CAST ME A SPELL OF IRON FLESH! I NEED YOUR MAGICS, RUE!”

Morgan’s eyes widened a moment. “Eh…? I’m not one to fortify defenses in combat! I am no Combat support mage! I’m a healer! I can make sure you won’t… I don’t know… DIE!!” The guard was quick to use his shield to push through the horde, making more room for his sword and to breathe. “RUE, I CAN MAKE SURE I DO NOT DIE! WHAT I NEED IS SUPPORT!” Rue watched him handle those goblins well but knew not of what he needed.. especially from her. She thought a moment, one hand holding her large hat to her head. She closed her eyes a moment, squeezing them shut. What could she help with?! She thought… maybe to make him FEEL like he was buffed would be enough to assist him. She kept her eyes closed and smiled. “HOWS ABOUT A SONG, M’LORD?! A SONG OF FORTIFY… STRENGTH..!?” She was a terrible liar. She knew of no such song… And the Captain knew that.

“RUE! NO!” He battled hard, swinging his shield in a side motion, bashing all those before him… again pushing back the horde… though it seemed that he was now at the last of them, for no new Goblins showed up. Morgan swung back and forth from the rope that she was snared from. She took a deep breath and cleared her throat. “FOR THE GRACE, FOR THE MIGHT OF OUR LORD!! FOR THE HOME OF THE HOLY!!” She hummed the tune in her head. “FOR THE FAITH, FOR THE WAY OF SWORD!! GAVE THEIR LIVES SOOO BOLDLY!!” She would have continued singing, but alas, she forgot the lyrics. So she adlibbed some… “FOR THE GRACE, FOR THE MIGHT OF OUR LORD!! IN THE NAME OF HIS GLORY!! IN THE-“

“RUE! SHUT IT! OR I’LL LEAVE YOU FOR THE GULLS TO PICK AT!!” She gasps and slowly opens her eyes… seeing the horde now down to a few runts with guts… but the captain would make quick work of them. Cutting down two and slamming his shield down on the nape of the neck of the other. The captain of the guard removed his helm and sat upon a log. Needing a moment to catch his breath and wipe his face and mail of goblin blood. He would finally look up at Morgan as she swings about in the treetops by the grip of the trap. “Aye, miss Rue. This isn’t what I meant when I said I’d see you hang one day…” He cracks a grin, though Morgan didn’t find it exactly funny. “However, this is quite satisfying enough. I think I’ll settle on this for now…” He looks around realizing they’re deep in the forest. “Morgan, you know it’s dangerous out… If I wasn’t out here to take a leak, you’d be picked apart by those creepy green fellas and their merry band!” He cackled a moment, still catching his breath, and dripping sweat. “Yes, Yes… I know, Old man… And you have my thanks. Now I beg of thee, cut me down!”

The captain would laugh. “Aye, I’m getting there… I don’t get paid enough for this, Miss Rue. Not by the King’s coin and sure enough not yours either. I expect a nice warm pot of your blackberry tea, and a new sweet every day for my breakfast.” She sighs. “Fine. It’s a deal then… Tea and sweeties. Who knew you were so easy to please, Old Man?” She grins and suddenly… the rope snaps, followed by a loud thud. The guard would lean off the log some to get a look at Morgan. “Aye, you’re a healing witch… You can lick your own wounds, cant’cha?”

 

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Conjuration? No Comprende.

“A witch that struggles in the dark arts..? Morgan, what are you doing to yourself? The locals hate you for being a witch, and yet you know no powers to defend yourself in case of an attack?” The raven haired Witch scolds Morgan, caring for her as kin. Taking the role of an older sibling. “You waste your time studying restoration and healing magics! You’re no cleric! You’re a heretic! The world around us is constantly looking for a reason to burn us at the stake!” The Raven haired witch glares at Morgan with her ruby colored hues. “You know your history of our kind, Rue. Not a single infamous witch ever conquered her foes or lived long enough to be heard of by pampering those around her with Healing properties! Everyone knows of tales where the evil witch that dwells within a cave and raises the dead to fend off the heroes of the world!” The raven haired witch chuckles. “It’s time you learned, Morgan! I won’t be around forever to protect you! Conjuration, the dark arts, the-” She was stopped in her lecture by the letting out a loud and dragged out sigh.

 

Morgan finally stopped when the raven haired witch bonked her on the head with her thick oak staff. Morgan winced in pain before speaking. “No offense, Ms. Vox, but I hope you didn’t travel all the way out here to teach me the forbidden arts! I have a business here, if the guards catch wind that I’m raising the dead in my basement then they’ll come kicking down this door. I want to live peacefully! I just want to help others and see the world! Search for artifacts that can be used for curing illnesses and breaking curses! Vox, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to-” Morgan was now interrupted by a loud and dragged on sigh from Vox, the raven haired Witch. Morgan glares and pouts some, crossing her arms like the little sister. “Come now, Morgan… We’ll be fine! Close up shop early today and we’ll practice ONE lesson. If you’re not interested, then you’re not interested… Simple as that! Deal?” Vox crossed her arms and raised a brow. “I’ll make your favorite cookies tonight to sweeten the deal?”

 

Morgan was quiet for a moment before silently walking over to the door, locking it, and flipping the sign on the window to close. “That’s a good little Rue. Now come on, the body I brought won’t stay fresh forever!” She giggles and raises down to the basement before Morgan could comprehend what was said. Morgan chased after Vox and found that she’d set up an area in the basement with a corpse on the ground, surrounded by a rune drawn on the ground with a purple keil. Morgan was in shock, jaw wide open and nose tickled by the smell of graveyard soil and early decomposition. Vox smiles and lets out a chuckle. “Well, as fresh as fresh gets… took a while to dig ‘em up.” She hands Morgan a beginners book to conjuration, titled “Conjurations for Dummies Vol. 2” Morgan raised a brow “Wait… Volume two? What about Volume one..?” Vox was surprised Morgan was interested in the chronological order of the book rather than the rune and corpse on the floor. Vox shrugs “The first one is just filled with insults, now close your mouth, Morgan, ‘afore you swallow a fleshfly.”

 

Morgan blinked a little before her mouth slowly closed itself. Vox nods and readies her hands. “Now, Little sister, do as I saw, when I say! Got it? Position yourself as so!” Morgan tried her best to strike the same pose as the raven haired witch but looked a little wobbly. “Now close your eyes, Rue… focus all your energy to your hands, feel your power course through you… You’ll be transferring this power. Channeling it into something empty and drained of all life… A husk if you will. It will take a lot out of you at first, but you’ll grow over time… that is if you end up taking these teachings further…” Morgan was hands out, with her eyes closed. This wasn’t too different from healing… Transferring energy that is… but raising the dead… That’s the part that’s different. Vox noticed Morgan trying her best. And even noticed a small glow of energy growing in Morgan’s hands. Was it working? Morgan could feel herself draining into this husk.. And sure enough, she was struggling, Vox had a smile from ear to ear, it was working!

 

Morgan tried to stabilize herself, putting one foot forwards, but neither of them noticed she’d smeared the rune on the floor with her foot. Morgan let out a battle cry as she casts all her energy into the corpse, letting out a huge purple blast of light, blinding the immediate area. Both of the witches were quick to look away, as the blast pushed them back some. The corpse began to move, kicking off the wraps he was in. He let out a blood curdling scream, as he was forced back in his lifeless body. Vox laughed. “Morgan! You did it! You’re a- Wait… BY THE EIGHT!!” The rune formed a tear in the middle of it, a tear to a soul realm. “MORGAN! THE RUNE!” Morgan opened her eyes to see her raised zombie being devoured by a soul eating hole in the ground. Vox was quick to pull Morgan away from the scene… The creams of the reanimated dead being eaten by the unknown could be heard from the woodline outside.

 

As the corpse was finally consumed by the void, the tear closed and the rune disappeared. It was quiet between the two witches. The silence was broken by Vox clearing her throat and letting go of the nape of Morgan’s collar. “So uhh, the evidence is gone… the wax is cleaned up… corpse devoured… uhh that was an easy cleanup. Let’s uhh not do this again… “ Morgan nodded silently, her eyes fixed in a trance to the ground. “Rue? Should I uhh..?” Morgan shook her head. “Just start on those damned cookies already, Vox…”

 

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The Cruel and Drunk

Deep in the darkness… you sank. A deep sleep, but now it was time to remember. A well-needed rest was all you needed… a Push to remember what happened that night before.

Ah, here you are. The Yellow Star Tavern! What a place to be!

From the outside, it looks snug, clean and rustic. Clay bricks and soft wooden tree trunks make up most of the building’s outer structure.
It’s hard to see through the darkened windows, but the laughter from within can be felt outside.

As you enter the tavern through the heavy, metallic door, you’re welcomed by a feeling of comfort and the smell of alcohol.
The bartender is buried in orders but still manages to welcome you with a short wave.

It’s as enchanting inside as it is on the outside. Rounded, stone beams support the upper floor and the light fixtures attached to them. The walls are packed with all sorts of travel memorabilia, most likely all collected by the owner.

The tavern itself is packed. Locals seem to be the primary clientele here, which could be seen as the best sign you can get. Several long tables are occupied by separate groups who, after having had quite a few drinks, seem to be trying to prove which group is best. The other, smaller tables are also occupied by people who are clearly having a good time. Even most of the stools at the bar are occupied, though nobody seems to mind more company.

You did hear rumors about this tavern, supposedly it’s famous for something, but you can’t remember what for. Though judging by the number of cups, tankards, and glasses on the table, it’s probably the fine alcoholic drinks. You manage to find a seat and prepare for what will undoubtedly be a great evening.

And then, from the corner of your eye… you see it. A table that could easily be overlooked from how calm and dark it was from the rest of the room. It was almost like a VIP section or something. You didn’t exactly have the nerve to just walk up and join the table… but the game of poker sure did interest you.

You decide to order a drink and build your courage. making your way to the bar, you slam your coin down and order a drink. Only for the barkeep to give you a confused look… then you remember it. It was famous for the free food and drink. Any food or drink imaginable… you’d find it there, with no cost at all. What a dumb move. You try and save yourself some face and retract your coin from the countertop and complete your order. You ordered something strong… something that would add steel to your gut! Hair on your chest! Blood in your stool! No seriously, this stuff was something else. The main ingredient was a chemical to burn barnacles and rust off of ships…

But who gives a damn when there’s poker to be played and coin to be won? Not you!  Your drink is slid over to you, and so you go for a sip? Nah, a gulp! That will start the night off right! You grab hold of the mug and take a hefty chug. Its taste took a second to hit you, but it burned hotter than the nine hells going down. You try and keep your composure, but the drink bends you like a cheap spoon in frozen solid ice cream. You make a sickly sound… some people look at you, concerned for your well being. But you fight through and try and play it off.

You clear your throat and throwback your arms, your moonlight enchanted sword sheathed on your hip, some coin in your purse, oh yeah! You were feeling good. And now it was time to join that dammed game.

You wanted to take your drink with you but it was advised against. Besides, you were reassured that the drink only gets colder as it sits there… As you walk over you began to feel the drink’s power settle in, giving you a gut of steel. Into the calmer area of the inn’s recreational areas. You enter the den of wolves. These cut-throat gamblers looked mighty tough, but it wasn’t how you looked. It’s how you played. I’m sure Luck is supposed to fit in there somewhere, but nonetheless, you were ready!

You take an empty seat, no need for introductions. You slide right on in and scan the other players before you…

So these were your opponents... The game was rather slow, so you decide to make things interesting by adding a few pieces from your purse to your bet. It wasn’t long till a little hobgoblin came on over and delivered your drink. You play a few hands and were actually doing alright, till the bard laid out a straight flush.

You were out a hefty sum and decided that you needed something to take the edge off. So, you look to that bastard of a drink and slam the rest of the glass down. It hits you like a ton of bricks, but it was just enough to give you that little push you were looking for.

Boom! You slam down your enchanted sword and personally challenged the bard for his winnings, in bet for your sword. A stupid move, but the grog was talking… And you were feelin’ good.  And with that, the bard agrees.

Your vision blurs, but you keep talking big. And soon you placed your cards where your mouth was!  The bard kept consulting with the thief to his right. You look to your right and see the man is eyeing your purse. You think nothing of it and continue the game, till sure enough… The bard plays his hand. Another straight flush. You were out of the game.

The sword was his, and you were left with a lot less than what you came in with. You felt suckered and played hard. The grog gives you that gut of steel so you get up and spit a few poisonous words about the Bard’s mother. The Bard finds it funny, but the man to your right and the thief to your left both stand up and look tough. The Bard tells his men to take you out, and the last thing you can remember was the size of the stone on the thief’s ring that connected to your face.

An interesting memory that, but you do remember the feeling of your body shuffling on the floor. It was probably from them patting you down and pocketing your belongings… They seemed to have loaded you up onto their wagon, and off you went to be discarded on the side of the road. They were hauling quite a bit of luggage… stolen goods, no doubt… Maybe that explains the necklace on the trail ahead..?

Now, you were slowly waking up from your little nap. Upon opening your eyes, you were in a tiny little cell. Ah, Welcome to the Queen’s dungeon… A tiny damp burlap rug was what you called a bed. And a bucket that… still had something left in it from the last occupant. Oh, there probably was no trial ahead for you. But perhaps you can explain this whole misunderstanding? Ah, probably not. Panic began to set in and the only ones willing to listen were the rats that scurry the floor. It was quiet, until a whistling tune shattered the silence, like a casted stone to stained glass.

 

A fitting end, for now.

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Finders keepers, Losers…?

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   An odd heat beats down on your face… the gentle breeze and sounds of rustling leaves from the trees above… and the birds, singing their song wasn’t so pleasant right now. Especially since that whore of a headache is pounding on the walls of your skull. You struggle to open your eyes, for the sun was being very unforgiving at the moment. You somehow managed to pass out in the middle of the road instead of under one of the many giant trees in the forest to the left of you. You take a moment to try and recall what had happened last night. Nothing comes to mind besides a poker game at the Red Sun Inn. Other than that everything else was a loss. You can’t remember if you even drank.. perhaps someone slipped you something? Perhaps a spell of “Riddikulus Ruffiluswas cast upon you?

      Either way, it appears your night had gone sour, due to the fact that your wallet was missing, along with your sword and it appears that your burglar shared the same boot size with you too. Well, there you are… this shoeless mess that makes the town Vagrant looks like a decent contributor to society. Well, accepting your fate you manage to get to your feet, but not without a fight that is.. but you make it happen. You stagger a bit before your stomach bellows out the contents it contained right out of your face holes. After a moment, you catch your breath and decide to keep pushing forward. It takes a moment, but eventually you gain plus one to your ability to walk. Going from newborn baby deer to the rank two-month-old toddler. The headache wasn’t going away, but you avoid the direct sunlight, making things less difficult for you to manage. Upon your travels towards… well, honestly you still don’t know where you’re going, but you manage to spot fresh tracks from a horse carriage on the pathway ahead. Meaning, you weren’t totally screwed! perhaps there was civilization nearby! 

      Your stomach churns again causing you to hurl in the bush and hold onto a tree for dear life. You decide to take a break and have a sluggish seat at the base of the tree. After you wipe your mouth of the foul bile you wretched up, you pass the idea around in your head of what you’re going to do when you get back to town. As you rub your head trying to suppress the pain, something was off in the color on the path ahead. You squint to get a better look at the thing that was slightly shrouded by tall grass. You lean forward and crawl towards the mysterious item before realizing it was a pendant of some sort! A large blue gem glows in the sunlight before you. It’s beauty robbed you of a few moments before you scoop it up. It must be worth a few Grellings! Enough to get you some shoes… hopefully. This thing was odd-looking around the chain, but it just screamed magic.

      You quickly try and think of where you could cash out this beauty, and then it came to you. That one odd witch and her little shop filled with trinkets and potions. Such an item would fit right in with the wares she has for sale. You fight to your feet and off you go again… Stumbling and hobbling down the road for about two miles, that’s when a horse-pulled wagon came across you. The smell of grog curses your breath as you speak to the driver and ask for assistance getting to the Potion Shoppette. Out the kindness of his heart, he reluctantly agrees and the two of you set off. You thought you’d increased your charisma by one, but in reality, this guy just felt bad for you… Because you look like a survivor of a bare-knuckle boxing match with a troll.

      By nightfall you make it to the Shoppette, it looked so familiar in these confusing times. A breath of fresh air and a step in the right direction. You leap off the wagon and wave off the gentleman who was kind enough to get you this far. You race to the front door, up the creaky steps and in through the front door to greet the witch. You burst in, excited to be here and see the familiar face, but the witch was startled by the commotion and took you as a burglar. The witch was sitting in front of the fireplace, hot tea in hand. With a small squeak, the witch launches the hot brew at your face… It was just a reaction. The scalding hot tea brings you to your knees in screams of agony.

       The witch then recognizes you and helps you to your feet. “Oh, friend! It really is you! I’m terribly sorry! I mistook you for the town vagrant! I thought they were really going for it this time! They told me one time on my way to the market that he was going to chop me up and feed me to the Seagulls! A lady must defend herself… even if it means wasting such lovely tea.” As you gain your composure, the witch gives you a small potion of fortification and restoration.

      You quickly guzzle the red liquid down, and within seconds your pain and burns vanish, leaving you feeling rejuvenated. Your headache and grog sweats take a bit more time but eventually vanish. You feel so much better! You then remember why you came! And with haste, show the witch your findings from the trail you walked. The witch was quick to snatch it from you and give it a looksie. “Ah? What’s this? A magical amulet? Oh, this is quite the find! It appears that this is sterling silver, very good in defense against the undead. The gem itself, however… wards against… magics? Hmmm… This is quite powerful. I’m willing to buy this off of you… it… appears that you need the money anyway… I’m thinking, One thousand five hundred Grellings?”

      You were happy to hear the number, but the currency type… Grellings? Wasn’t that the coin of the Merfolk? Yes… you’d have to get it exchanged. Another hurdle to clear, but you were willing and grateful overall. “Sorry, but I don’t have much in the means of gold right now, I just sent a big shipment to these tribes in the swamps! And they paid me in Grellings.. so I gotta work with what I got! What a good find! You know what they say! Finders keepers, losers…?” The witch was happy and was about to proceed in giving you the Grellings, that is until the door bursts open again, interrupting the witch’s line. Luckily it wasn’t the Vagrant she warned about, but a royal guard of the queen herself! He didn’t look too happy however and spotted The witch with the amulet in her hand, and you… a dirty foul degenerate. He draws his sword and clears his throat as if he had to get into character. “Ahem… STOP! You violated the law! Pay the court a fine or serve your sentence! Your stolen goods are now forfeit!” He chuckles “I’ve always wanted to say that!” He swiftly clobbers you with his mighty shield rending your vision to go black. You now drift into a deep sleep… Plunge is more the word, rather than drift… since you were just knocked out by a royal guard…

 

A fitting end, for now.

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A Late Night Visitor

The small breeze blows against the chimes that hang in front of the door to the magic shoppette. It’s small stained glass windows make it hard to see inside, but the glow of candles and the smell of spirit warding incense smoke were very noticeable. As you approach, the floorboards let off a soft creak as you walk up the steps and to the front door. A welcome mat brushes the bottom of your worn boots. Opening the door, you’re greeted with a gentle ding of a bell and the soothing smells of brewing potions, various incense and of course the Dryad Tongue leaves drying on a rack hanging from the ceiling. The place was fairly quiet and calming. The soothing sounds of small crackling from the lit fireplace, the bubbling of brewing works, the hiss of a kettle and the coo of a bird that lingers somewhere in the dark rafters above. Upon looking at the ground, there would be various rugs for the comfort of traveler’s weary feet, a pair of chairs that accompany a small coffee table, all made of hand-cut sandalwood.

As the flames dance in the fireplace, the kettle resting above it let out a soft bellowing whistle. The Kettle didn’t need much time left. That small whistle triggers the entrance of a witch who entered the scene from curtain draped doorway. The Witch wore a large hat, larger than most other hats. She wore a name tag with the name “Morgan” etched on crudely and pinned upon her draping black garb. The witch’s wine-red hues observe you. “Oh? A visitor? At this time of night? I usually don’t get visitors at this time of night… well when I do, they’re usually staggering drunk and shouting such poison-filled words about their hate for witches. Ah, but that’s the curse of being a heretic, am I right?” She winks and takes a comedic gesture with her hands as she cocks a stupid wide-mouthed smile. She seemed light-hearted and energetic, making fun of an otherwise glum situation. “Anyway, as a witch I’m rather observant.. So let me take a good look at you..I’m sure I can guess why you’re here.” She rests her elbow on the countertop next to the register. She squints her eyes and moves her mouth from side to side as she tries to read your body like a book. She makes a straining grunt and then a squeak. “Aaaannnnd I got Nothin’.” She relaxes from her strained position. “Now that I think of it… I never have been able to guess correctly… But I suppose persistence pays off! Except for when it doesn’t!” She eyes you some more, her red hues flicker from the worn coat to your belt, and down to your boots. “You must be new here? Then that makes two of us! ” She cracks a warm smile on her silly face. “Just know that I never forget a face! Except for when I do! Which is… Quite often now that I put some thought on that..” She shakes her head trying to get in focus with the conversation. “Nevermind that… uh, what was it you were looking for? A Spell? A book of spells? A potion? uhhh Maybe it’s a spell that get’s you a potion!?” She shook her head. “Obviously that last one was not it.”

Your eyes wander her wares and goods… but a small stack of scrolls by the window catches your eye. The opposite side of the room from the roaring fire. The cooler area set the mood for relaxation… The moonlight hit a decanter that emits a dulled blueish-green tint, lightly illuminating the scrolls. “Oh?” The witch was surprised by your interest in the scrolls. “I see, you’re interested in scrolls then. Didn’t take you for much of a reader, to be honest… Uhh… No offense!” She laughs a bit awkwardly trying not to insult your intelligence with her inability to read her fellow man. “These scrolls are fresh off the press! Well… actually I handwrite them… Now that I think of it a press would probably be a good investment.” She raises a brow and thinks to herself a bit. “Oh! But they’re the Moonlight enchantment scrolls. If you’re a friend of the night, these are for you. As long as the moonlight reaches the enchanted weapon the weapon will be covered in a glowing aura… Much like you see in that small glass bottle!” She lets her hand gesture to the dim-lit bottle.

Just then the kettle let out a piercing whistle. It breaks you and Morgan’s concentration on the topic of enchantments. “Oh my, where are my manners! My tea was brewing. Would you care for a cup? and a chat by the fireplace? The tea is a soothing honey and ginger spice, with just a touch of Pheonix oil.. to keep the tea at an adequate temperature that is!” As she makes her way to the fireplace to remove the kettle, you politely agree to the cup but mention you were on a time constraint. Morgan understands and grabs two puter mugs as she races over to the fireplace and removes the kettle. She was quick to pour yours first and gently places it on the counter next to you. “So, given how interested you are in those scrolls… I take it that you’ve made up your mind?” You nod and reach for your coin purse for a the coin, anticipating a price. “The price… Oh! The price, yes! Uhh Let’s see… it is still a work in progress! So how does ten thousand gold sound?” A puzzled look surfaces on your rather content face. The price was rather outrageous for a prototype, but before you can decline you notice her smile. “I’m kidding, I’ll depart with the scrolls for one hundred gold.” She giggles. “You should have seen your face, friend.” You also find this humorous. Your hand gently picks up your mug of tea and you have a generous gulp of the warm amber liquid.

The sweet pumpkin flavor reminds you of the fall season and all the warm colors and cooler winds it brings. With your free hand, you gently unlace the coin purse that hung from your hip and begin to count out the asking price in increments of ten. You gently place the pillars of ten coins neatly on the countertop. Morgan watches carefully and soon enough trusts you to count on your own as she gathers the items you requested to purchase. “Such a relaxing evening. Enjoying a drink with a friend with the crackling fireplace providing warmth and light, talk of scrolls and encamtations of the moon.” She gently places the scrolls in a wooden box. The inside was lined with a blue stained leather that wouldn’t be so harsh on the tattered papyrus the scrolls were made of. She closes the box and attaches the safety latch to keep it closed. The box had a moon cycle engraved on the front, for decorative purposes. The box was stained black with gold and light blue details in the engravings.

The slams a few clacking keys on the register and with a charming ding, it was your time to pay. “Fork it over, buddy!” She giggles, being a bit playful. “I hope to see you again after this! Come again! Show me what you do with these when you can!” You give her a reassuring nod, as you push forth all the stacks of coins like a high roller going all in at a poker game. She gives it a look over, just to confirm the amount and smiles wide. “Perfect! You’re free to enjoy the wonders of my work!” You finish the cup before collecting the box. Morgan gestures for you to leave the cup behind. "Worry not, I’ll take care of this for you! Please, come again soon!” You wave her off and exit the shop and back out on your journey… You can’t seem to shake the feeling that you’ll see her again. Perhaps you’re destined to return to the odd witch and her little humble shop again? Only the gods would know.

 

A fitting end, for now.

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