Promise Fulfilled – Sheryl, the Fae-Touched – 5.01.2021

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The Tower of Promise was an exceptionally unique structure in that it was not a single tower – it was a forest of towers, all interconnected, no two alike, made of various materials from red brick to grey mortar, warm sandstone to cool marble.

Simply put, it was a hot mess of a structure.

Sheryl could not get enough of it though. So many things from all over the realms were inside its winding walls that could put even the most extensive elven library to shame. Artwork, masterpiece sculptures, nick knacks and trinkets. The fae-bard had to nearly be pulled along by BB for her desire to stop and look at all the unique and wonderful things was overwhelming.

Their hostess was no less unique in that she was a ginger cat, frocked up in what was clearly a highly fashionable green dress, sitting on a small armchair with exceptionally long legs to be the same height as the others arranged in a semicircle around a roaring fireplace.

“I humbly present for your talking pleasure, the illustrious Lady Josephine of the Tower of Promise,” Huber, their goblin escort announced with a flourish.

Lady Josephine, enjoying the last of her drink as they entered, lowered her small bowl held between two delicate paws. A thick, white line was on her upper lip, just below her whiskers.

“Welcome, I’m Lady Josephine.”

They were all curious what a talking cat – for she was nothing else, nor has she ever been anything else than a cat who speaks – could want when her home was filled with so many treasures.

As it turned out, their hostess explained how she came to be in this demi-plane adjacent to the Feywild – “I obtained it some time ago and I wanted to have a tower built. In order to get the most out of the workers, I promised to grant a wish to whoever finished it.” – how long the Tower of Promise has been under construction – “Eighty-four and a half years to be precise.” – how many companies and builders have been working on it – “Too many to count, many which have gone bust or merged as each company tried to change the plans to add onto the Tower so that it would not be completed, thus guaranteeing they wouldn’t get their wish granted.” – and, most importantly, that it would be complete very soon.

“The company completing my tower has made their request and this is why I need your help,” Lady Josephine demurred. “I need two things to enable me to achieve this, and then there’s a third task if possible, for me to round off the place. If you succeed I will happily offer you a choice of gold, equipment, or furnishings, or even information.”

Baine and Ghesh exchanged an appreciative glance, whilst Taffeta’s brow furrowed a little, and BB and Pieni looked intrigued.

“Don’t worry,” Lady Josephine said with a wave of her paw at the varying reactions. Feline eyes glittered in the firelight. “Some of you seem to be of upstanding character. This will involve theft but only from really terrible people.”

Sheryl grinned mischievously at that.

---

They were to go to three locations on three different Planes, in whichever order they so wished, to find the items Lady Josephine needed. Knowing the nature of the Shadowfell and seeing as they were all in good spirits, the group decided to go to the Screaming Irons Outpost first. They were to find the Four Horseshoes of Apocalypse, which happened to belong to a cambion called Lord Power Eternal.

What do you wager this Lord Power Eternal is your standard beefcake of a fiend, who is all muscle and no brains? Astra amused as they stepped through the Fractured Nexis portal Huber opened for them.

You mean like Bal’taz’narr? Sheryl chuckled. I do not think anyone can be as thick headed as that demon.

Their plan was simple: Baine with Ghesh on Frankie, along with Sheryl on Astra, would run and fly up to the encampment, drawing the attention of the demons infesting the realm of shadows, whilst Pieni, BB and Taffeta would sneak around to the stables and get the horseshoes from the commander’s mount. It was a simple but very efficient plan. Sheryl and Astra were a beacon of light in the dreary landscape, whilst Baine, Ghesh and Frankie were too enticing of a challenge for the demonic company to pass up on snuffing out.

But there was something else compelling Sheryl, a whisper of wings and a dirge of a raven’s caw that she heard with each swing of her sword, with every song she sang into a spell. The all too familiar feeling of being watched was engulfing and, oh, how she felt the song of land and air call to her in a way she had not heard before.

The scars on Sheryl’s back pulsed, shadows leaking from their dark marks, as five cambions came soaring towards the fae-bard, ten bolts of fire about to impact on her and Astra.

“Foq’alis!” Sheryl sang in elvish.

The Daughter of Summer did not know how she knew to sing this spell, it was almost instinctual. Just like at the Accords, suddenly surrounding her and Astra were sharp, black raven feathers and whipping shadows. The winged unicorn did her best to dodge the majority of the attacks, but even in the realm of Shadows where it was clear some innate magic coursed through her veins now – a gift from the Raven Queen, or a reminder of something, Sheryl could not say – four of the firebolts pierced the shield. They hit her square in the chest, burning the air in front of her. There was a panicked moment where she could not breathe.

In retaliation, Astra soared up to come back down into the middle of the troupe of five as Sheryl flourished her blade and disappeared just as the shield of feathers and shadows withdrew into her back once more. The fae-bard struck out, appearing in front of each cambion soldier before disappearing in a whirl of wind, only to reappear in front of the next. Two dropped from the skies, falling on the horde attempting to overtake Baine and Ghesh. The third she took the head clean off, such was the force of the blow she dealt it.

KRAA!!

A wicked smile darkened her sharp features.

“Lord Power Eternal… Lord Power Eternal… Lord Power Eternal…!”

Another round of fire bolts assails her from the two remaining cambions and Sheryl calls up her protective shield once more. The chanting grows and the fae-bard looks down, seeing a larger bulkier cambion wearing oversized armour and carrying a ridiculously large great sword, looking up at her who just slew three of his men in one fell swoop. Fire and rage burn in his eyes.

She smirks down at him.

The massive cambion leaps into the air, flying straight for her at top speed. Sheryl brings the Harmonious Rapier up into an attack position, her other hand hovering over the strings of her harp, eyes alight as the shield of raven feathers and shadows continues to whip around both her and Astra. Will he draw his sword and attempt to cut her in half? Or will he summon fire to hurl at her like the others?

Blue eyes squint, then widen as Lord Power Eternal clenches one large, powerful fist, pulls it back and punches through the whirling shield, impacting Astra’s jaw with a resounding crack.

Sheryl feels Astra flicker out of existence underneath her and there’s a breath, a horrible suspended moment between notes where she feels weightless.

“Astra! Do not leave me!” Sheryl shouts across their bond, half command, half plea, the imperial topaz of her diadem burning bright.

Large, starlight wings beat and Astra flickers back into existence underneath Sheryl. Intense relief floods through her and she nearly shudders from the adrenaline. On its heels is an intense heat, a rage burning so hot and bright of the like she has never felt before. When Sheryl looks at Lord Power Eternal he draws back from her, seeing something else in her eyes.

“You should not have done that.”

Quick as lighting with the power of all her fury, using the pommel of her dancing sword, Sheryl strikes Lord Power Eternal across the jaw. He blinks in surprise, expecting more from the blow. Then he starts to grin when nothing happens after a couple seconds. He sneers at her, opens his mouth, then disappears with a dull keening tone.

“Time to go!” Sheryl hears Baine shout.

“Astra, are you alright?” Sheryl asks as she sings out a kulning call to her friends to give them all a burst of speed to hasten their retreat.

“Yes, Merla, I am,” Astra responds, slightly dazed and shaken as she starts to fly back to the portal they came through. “Where is it you sent him?”

“I sent him to the worst possible place I could – to the Plane of the Seven.”

---

The second and third items – the Cornucopia of Arathus and an extra large, copper cauldron – were easy enough to obtain.

The former was located in the Vaults of Madness, a strange and beguiling place that had no rhyme or reason to it that reminded Sheryl of parts of the Feywild she had seen in her youth. After a bit of conversation about how boring life is in the Vaults, gardening and exchange of seeds, the githzerai overseeing the security of the vaults gave them the name of the slaad that contained the Cornucopia. After that it was a simple matter of a little Mass Suggestion and a tiny bit of persuasion from Sheryl, with Baine’s help, and Sparticus the slaad gave their group the cornucopia.

If they just so happened to walk out of the Vaults with a few extra bags of treasure, then the githzerai was not going to stop them. Though he did warn them he was susceptible to bribes.

The latter was obtained on a remote island on the Material Plane that was uniquely prehistoric. Not only were there giant lizards – dinosaurs as Sheryl heard Pieni call them, specifically tyrannosaurus rex – but the ones they had to fight were in fact flesh golems. Clearly the giant hag, Cousin Cabbage as she was called, was someone none of them would want to meet if she returned so they did not terry. Baine, polymorphed into a T-Rex, used his incredible size to help carry the giant copper cauldron back to the Nexis.

---

“This is going to be hilarious,” Lady Josephine purrs.

As the last keystone slots into place, arcane lightning sparks and crackles down from it, dashing across from one tower to the next and to the next. The rocks at the base of the towers shift and then, as sure as breathing, Sheryl knows they have been teleported to the Feywild.

I am back…

Sheryl takes a look outside one of the large windows. It isn’t the familiar rolling, green hills of the Summer Lands. What she sees instead is high, rocky, alpine mountains that stretch into the distance as far as the eye can see.

“We are in the realm of Queen Nicnevin,” Lady Josephine informs them, seeing the shared look of confusion. “That cauldron you brought back is a gift for the Queen as compensation for me putting my tower here without permission.” She leans over and in a conspiratorial voice that sounds like a hiss says, “She has a love for copper things.”

“What are you going to do now you’re here?” BB asks, curious.

“I will fulfil my title as Lady Josephine. I will become a noble in the court of Queen Nicnevin. Going to get involved in politics. I hear this is the perfect time for it.”

Sheryl smirks.

“What will you ask for your reward?” Astra inquires to her as Baine steps forward to speak with Lady Jospehine.

“I was thinking about asking for help with locating the Cabal of the Black Heart.”

Sheryl glances up to Astra but quickly looks away. She had not addressed what Astra said in their last conversation about the Unseelie Cabal, in particular about Kruxeral’s possible involvement. It was becoming an incessant worm that overshadowed her every thought about him. The worst part was some part of Sheryl agreed with her.

I will make no assumptions, she scolded herself. I will follow the facts. They will lead me to the truth.

Sheryl steps forward.

“For my reward, I would ask you for your help. I wish to know how to find the Cabal of the Black Heart.”

---

It’s been nearly a week since their return from the Witching Court and Sheryl has not heard a word from Lady Josephine. At the start, the fae-bard shared her theories with Taffeta and Varis at their bi-weekly Pie Nights at Nerry’s. She could feel Astra wanting her to say more, to elaborate on her theories about who may or may not be involved but Sheryl refused. Since then, she has not spoken to Astra about any further thoughts she’s had regarding the Unseelie Cabals, Sarastra’s assassination, or anything to the topic of who may or may not be involved. Instead, she poured her heart and soul into putting on a concert with the children of Thia’s Refuge and Red’s School.

It was a whirlwind of a week – a lot of rehearsing, a lot of set up, many things that could have gone wrong. But being the Daughter of Summer meant the luck of the fey was with them. Sheryl was so proud of the children. The place was bursting at the seams, standing room only. Many who came were clearly seeking some wholesome joy after all the drama and conflict of recent times. The children had worked very hard on their performance and, most importantly, they all had fun. Some of them even came up afterwards to thank her.

“It is not me you need to thank,” the fae-bard said, a warmth in her eyes as she looked at the children around her. The concert had somehow broken the barrier of “otherness” associated with the orphanage. They were no longer “orphans”. Instead they were “children of Daring.” The ones before her were the children she had noticed had a spark within, something she recognised in her younger self.

“Your hard work, your love, your passion – it all came through in the music you played. That is something I did not give you, you have had it all along. And they felt it.”

“When can we do this again?” a half-orc girl asked, holding a fine silver flute in her hands close to her chest.

“Yeah! I want to learn more music,” a young human boy exclaims. He playfully bumped a dwarven boy’s shoulder and they shared a grin. “Maybe next time you can teach us how to enchant some-”

“If you think music is all about charming your way through life, you have missed the point entirely,” she cuts him off, a soft edge to her voice. The boy sheepishly grins and utters an apology.

A young half-elf tentatively steps forward. “We would really like to continue to learn Auntie Sheryl. Please, would you help us do this again?” There was an earnest light in their grey eyes.

Sheryl sighed, putting her hands on her hips in that way she has seen Varis do. The children look at each other, uncertain.

After a moment she says seriously, “I am very busy, and there are other things I must do. No promises, but…”

The children look at each other, hope in their eyes. Sheryl grins mischievously, dropping them a wink and they all smile.

“I will see what can be done.”

But now, as a sliver of a crescent moon climbs higher into the cold night sky, Sheryl’s thoughts are consumed once more by fey plots. King Ulorion is hosting gladiatorial games as tribute to the fallen Queen of Night and Magic. After much back and forth using Sending and a bit of discussion with Varis, a meeting time had been finalised with Heret, BB, Faye and Ghesh for the morrow. Sheryl had bid goodnight to the Grandmaster and left with Astra to return to her own lodgings at the Four Fair Winds, exhausted and ready for sleep.

She knew Varis did not like the River King – many in Daring didn’t. He was the one who brought the Lastitude, a plague that had taken many Darites’ lives before a cure could be found, back when the Amarantine Games were happening. The Grandmaster wished to win if only for the opportunity to ask the Archfey a question, in the hopes of getting a truthful answer.

Sheryl wondered what that question could be…

There is a light tapping sound against glass.

Her eyes open suddenly, seeing shades of grey in the dark room. Sheryl sits up from the chaise lounge, not realising she had fallen asleep. The fire was barely embers in her hearth, Astra curled up nearby. She dangles her feet over the plush carpet before standing, rubbing sleep from her eyes as she quietly wanders over to the curtained double door that leads to the terrace.

Pulling back the curtain, Sheryl sees an envelope with a delicate paw seal waiting for her in the starlight on top of a fresh dusting of snow.

She quickly retrieves the letter, deftly breaking the seal and begins to read its contents.