The Freetraders League – Sheryl the Fae-Touched – 13.05.2020

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Astra’s strong wings beat against the wind as she soars over the winding road heading west. It was strange seeing the path Sheryl had walked so many times from such a distance. The wider, greater landscape was easier to see too and she took comfort in its softly rolling hills. Markas was silent, his arms casually around her to ensure he would not fall.

“Are you sure you’re alright Merla? You seem anxious.”

“I will be fine Astra,” she tries to reassure her friend again, unsuccessfully. “I’m sure it will pass once I’ve had some rest. The Shadowfell is- Well... it’s the complete opposite of the ’Wilds.”

“It is called the Plane of Dread for a reason,” the winged unicorn says seriously, and Sheryl tries not to shudder. “It is not easy on those full of life.” Her silvery blue eyes glance back at her mistress for a moment before she dips her head down and forward, a burst of speed making the wind whip by them faster. "I should have gone with you.”

“You would have been spotted a mile away. We needed to be stealthy. Besides, I came back and we got the job done. That is the important part.” Sheryl rests a hand briefly on her satchel in front of her where the map sits, before gently stroking Astra’s neck.

Markas leans forward, speaking into her ear to be heard. “She knows she doesn’t have to go so fast, right? We aren’t in any hurry.”

Astra lets out huff. “Sal am Fae ausa Tel’keth,”* she says aloud to Markas before another burst of speed has the half-elf holding on tighter. Daring can be seen getting closer, but it will be late in the day by the time they land.

“Astra, please slow down, we will make it in good time, I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

The winged unicorn doesn’t respond. She continues to beat her powerful wings, a small huff of effort puffing past her lips every now and then.

*I am one with the wind.

---

Sheryl was remiss to leave Astra in Port Ffirst, but Himal – the Harmonious Order’s contact who had briefed them on their mission – advised that stealth would be the way to get the job done. She had no doubt Astra would have outperformed all of them but the group had been firm in their decision. So Astra was to remain on the Material Plane and Sheryl would go on her own with Markas, Arkadius, Bones and Ghesh to the Shadowfell.

The group met up with Tsue, Markas greeting her warmly, asking when they might train together. She gave the half-elf a look and cryptically said, “One day.”

Sheryl had watched attentively to the spell Tsue cast, noting the small two pronged fork she used. The sigils were disparate, like a negative of her home plane of the Feywild. She held onto Arkadius’ hand a bit tighter as she felt the magic build and with a pulling sensation in her navel the group found themselves in the undeniably grim landscape of the Plane of Shadow.

It wasn’t too bad for the fae-bard, at first. Lending help through her enhancing magic to Ghesh and Markas, with a little for herself, the six of them made their slow and careful way across the dark, monochrome, rocky landscape. For hours they walked, a mist obscuring their vision as the rain that had been falling when they arrived slowly got heavier, until eventually it was pelting into them sideways. Sheryl wished Astra was with her, if only so she could take comfort from being higher up off the ground. She started to forget what sunlight was as the sky was permanently grey with clouds with even more mist gathering around, only letting the dullest of light grace their path. Eventually, a feeling of foreboding, of an unknown anxiety started creeping its way into her mind and she kept looking around, seeing shadows reaching out towards them – or thinking they did.

They had stopped for a brief repose when Markas came over holding out a pearlescent peach coloured conch shell.

“Here, listen to this,” he said, his blue eyes soft with kindness. He held it up to her ear and she could hear the sound of crashing waves, their rhythmic ebb and flow soothing her mind. Sheryl’s shoulders eased of tension slightly and she shakily took the shell from Markas. “Does it help?”

Sheryl nods, unable to speak for a moment. The dread that had been crowding her mind is still there but it is being drowned out by the sound of an ocean from another plane. She closed her eyes for a moment to centre herself before she nods a thank you to her friend. Looking at the others, she couldn’t tell if they were being affected like her.

Maybe it’s because the Shadowfell is everything the Feywild is not. Lifeless, hollow, devoid of joy.

Ghesh is unusually quiet, adjusting his collection of javelins strapped to his back without complaint. Looking over to Bones she notices his eyes appear a bit more apathetic for the briefest of moments, but he blinks and turns his head away from her and Sheryl wasn’t sure if she was just imagining it or if it was the subdued light making his eyes look glassy. All of their colouration seems to be muted, getting more lacklustre with every passing hour.

This place will drain the very life from us if we let it.

A shudder passes through her at the horrible certainty of the thought.

The rain continues to fly sideways into them as they march onwards. Thankfully it wasn’t much longer until Tsue pointed out the rock-face rising up out of the dense fog. The Thunderstorm can be seen, dark hull imposing itself upon a keep at the pinnacle. Sheryl can just see some activity on the bridge of the ship and the sails are ripped but unfurled.

Something’s happened.

Tsue does a whistling call out of the blue, startling Sheryl. They all wait, expectantly, but nothing responds. Tsue goes forward out of line of sight, then lets out a muffled gasp. Before any of them can move forward to help, there’s a large explosion from the keep above and three of the five towers start collapsing, great stones falling down into the moat of fog below.

“What hap- Oh no,” Sheryl starts as she comes around the corner with the others. Margot, the dwarven member she and Markas had met before from the Order, lies in a pool of blood, unmoving.

“She’s dead. I-” Tsue looks around at them, trying to hold back her own panic, “I have to get her out of here. She-”

“Go,” Sheryl cuts her off, not unkindly. “We will complete the mission. Get her somewhere safe.”

“Thank you. I will be back when I can, to bring you home.” She points out the path they should take to get to the keep then she starts casting her Plane Shifting spell. In the next breath she’s gone, Margot’s body along with her.

Sheryl looks at the others and there is a grim resolve to them. Another explosion is heard from above them and they spring into action.

They all had thought ahead, ensuring they had a means to fly should the occasion call for it. Fortunately, the path led them to a rope bridge which had seen better days. Markas offered to cross it first, his light steps allowing him to take the rope lead they fashioned to the other side. But from the shadows of the rocks he was assaulted. Sheryl and the others wasted no time, making sure to be careful as they crossed and lending their help to the monk who engaged the hidden enemies. They were elves but ones Sheryl had never seen before. There was something about the way they seemed at ease on this dreadful plane. It was when she was in front of one, her Harmonious Rapier dancing in her hand that she saw the shadows were darker around them, writhing with their movements. The pair of shadow elves did not last long because, as Markas pointed out afterwards, they were already injured.

“There is clearly more than just the pirates here,” he said, looking up.

As Sheryl followed his gaze they both noticed the ship’s sails started unfurling.

“They’re trying to escape!” Ghesh shouts.

“We won’t let them,” the fey-bard says, pulling out a vial of clear liquid with cloudy white impurities drifting in it. She nods to Markas and Ghesh and they both join her in downing their potions. The iridescent fabric of her split cape shudders and comes to life. Arkadius and Bones already on the move, Sheryl jumps up, her wings beating against the rain and she soars up, making a beeline for the whale-sized hull of The Thunderstorm.

Rain pelting against their flying forms, they almost miss seeing the blooming ball of fire that someone from within the keep casts at their approach. Luckily, those closest – Bones and Arkadius – manage to dodge the brunt of the blast. Turning to see if they should prepare for another assault, Sheryl sees the keep is mostly in ruins. The entrance is blasted open and only one tower remains sentinel. The forms that can be seen through the rubble and rain are trying to make their way to the ship.

Directing her attention back to the vessel, Sheryl sees Bones and Arkadius retaliate against the ship itself, their combined Fireballs decimating the sails which had started to draw taught, the magic that would grant it the ability to shift across the planes burning away in the flames. She is cresting around the starboard quarter side of the ship when she spots a female djinn through the flames and blasted hole on the side of the half destroyed ship. They lock eyes and the djinn grins at Sheryl, starting to disappear.

“YOU SHALL NOT LEAVE!”

The gem in her circlet pulses with sunlight and between one wing beat and the next, she transforms into a reflection of Titania. Her voice rings across the space between them, commanding, beautiful, fierce, and the djinn’s grin becomes a scowl of rage as her spell is stopped and she stays solidly in the Shadowfell.

The Thunderstorm starts to shudder in the air and list towards what remains of the keep. Like the shadow elves they saw below, this djinn looks battle wary and she starts to look around for another means of escape. The others have all spotted her now too and start to charge forward but not before Sheryl riffs a chord across her harp at her side, drawing the magic to her fingers and then throwing the thunderous energy at her and the ship.

Markas deftly flies in, running his hand along his blade which gives it a glowing, silvery sheen before slashing at her multiple times. The djinn is stunned by the sudden assault, so Ghesh is able to bludgeon her with his morning star, a cry of battle rage ringing out from him. Arkadius swoops up and with careful aim, incinerates her and part of the ship with one final ball of fire.

Retreating to a safe distance, they watch from the air as the once mighty ship crashes into the keep, the pirates that had not made it on board, getting crushed by the behemoth as it utterly decimates the remaining stone structures. The last echoes of falling rubble subside and then all is quiet.

---

Astra descends into Portal Plaza in Daring Heights by doing a graceful running landing, her wings still fanned out as she slows down to a gallop, then a cantor, then a trot outside the council building. The bard and the monk are thoroughly windswept as they dismount, a brief moment of pins and needles as Sheryl’s feet touch the ground, but it doesn’t linger.

“I will be right back,” she says to Astra. Her friend just dips her head, sides quivering slightly from the effort of their flight. Sheryl reaches up and rests her hand on Astra’s dove grey nose but all she gets in response is a slow blink that says, Go. Markas had already gone ahead but he stops and turns, waiting for Sheryl. Light feet running across the stones they both enter the building, making their way to see Aurelia, map in one hand, ship manifest in another.

If this leads to the Final Seal, let us hope we can get to it in time...