Post by Jaezred Vandree on Nov 2, 2021 13:07:33 GMT
Co-written with Riah and Celina Zabinski.
Name: Celina Zabinski
Hair of starlight fire, skin of wintery embers, eyes that have captured my heart.
Any information you may have would be greatly appreciated — and a small sum will be given to anyone whose information proves fruitful. Please write to Sammy Plumbstead at the Four Fair Winds in Daring Heights.
Jaezred rips the poster off its nail and studies it carefully. No doubt, the hand-drawn sketch on it is the face of the tiefling “apple-seller”. He thinks briefly of rubbing it in Belladonna Thorpe’s face that her betrothed has gone off and married some other man, but as fun as such mischievous fancies are, this…situation can be put to better use.
Finding a lonely nook in the streets of Castleside, the drow mage casts sending.
“Miss Zabinski, Lord Jaezred here. There’s a man in Daring Heights distributing missing person posters with your name and face. Is this a problem for you?”
Celina’s voice enters his mind with an explosive curse word. Sammy’s doing…I mean…This person is doing this in Daring Heights too? Dear lord… There is a pause. No problem…I’ll…handle it…Thanks.
“Interesting,” he mumbles to himself, before casting the spell a second time. “I can make this…non-problem…go away discreetly for you. I’m well-connected and very persuasive. It’ll be no skin off your back.”
DON’T touch one hair on his head, she says defensively. Jaezred hears her take a deep breath, and then her voice becomes calmer. Sorry…I mean...Thank you but let me think...If you could take down any of those posters you see...that would be most helpful. Eh...got to go sell more apples and whatnot.
“He will not be harmed if you do not wish it,” he reassures her. “I’ll see what I can do, but I ask for a simple favour in return.”
...What favour, exactly?
“To be my eyes and ears. But we can discuss this later when it is done.”
No more than an hour later, Jaezred Vandree strides into the Four Fair Winds, the rolled-up poster in one hand, his spider-topped cane in the other. His crimson eyes scans the tavern and quickly spots the little man who matches the description: a young halfling, dressed in a finely-made waistcoat, pressed slacks, and a shirt with the sleeves rolled up. (A passable attire, Jaezred thinks.)
He wastes no time and marches up to the halfling’s table. “Are you Sammy Plumbstead?” he asks, or more precisely, demands.
The young man starts at the sudden appearance of the very tall and rather imposing drow. He hastily swallows the mouthful of bacon and eggs in his mouth, trying not to choke, coughs, and sets his utensils down. “I am. Who might I have the pleasure of speaking to?” His eyes do a quick once-over. “My lord,” he adds.
Jaezred brusquely takes the seat across from Sammy’s. “My name is of no importance. I’m here to tell you that your wife does not want to see you.”
Sammy frowns. “How could you know that? And how can I trust the word of a person if they do not give me their name?”
“I am a friend of Celina’s. Think about it, Mr. Plumbstead. You’ve spread these posters far and wide, you’ve searched for Lolth knows how long, and still, she eludes you. That’s clearly because she’s hiding from you.
“I’ve spoken to her, and what you’ve done here”—with a single swift motion, he unrolls the poster in his hand—“has made her even more upset.”
Sammy stares at him for several moments, attempting to gauge the intentions of the nobleman sitting before him. When he realises that he is being sincere, he turns his gaze towards the poster — the sketch of Celina’s face, drawn by his own amateur hand, now looks so crude. Tears threaten to come to his eyes. He swallows hard, appetite gone.
“It was never my intention to make her upset.”
He sits back in his chair, right hand hovering towards the simple silver band on the third finger of his left hand.
“If you are her friend as you claim to be, my lord, then I believe you. I just wish—” Sammy’s voice catches a little as those tears try to choke him up but he holds them back, just barely. “My only wish is for Celina's happiness.”
He slowly takes off the wedding band and holds it in his clenched fist, then brings it up to his lips and closes his eyes. A single, bright tear falls down his stubbled cheek.
“Would you give this to her, my lord?” Sammy asks, holding out the plain ring.
Jaezred watches the scene unfold before him calmly. However, when he speaks again, his deep voice is ever so slightly gentler. “She will talk to you when she is ready, when the time is right. But until then, you must wait. You cannot force it with this.” He holds up the poster higher.
He takes the wedding band and wraps it in a silk handkerchief, his own silver signet ring catching the sunlight streaming in from the windows and glinting as he does so. “I need you to take those posters down, wherever you’ve put them up. It is what she wants.”
Sammy silently nods. He stands, eyes not focused on Jaezred as he addresses him. “I thank you, my lord, for telling me this. Here.” He puts a coin purse down on the table and pushes it across. “I’ll start to take down the posters today.”
He turns to walk away, takes a step, then pauses.
“Love is a fickle mistress, isn’t she? Selfish, taunting, always leaving us wanting more. Heh, heh…” The half-smile on his face drips away, leaving a thousand-yard stare as Sammy looks directly at Jaezred. “That’s the problem with wanting. It makes us weak.”
Not waiting for a response, Sammy walks off to his rooms, his barely-touched food getting colder by the second. Jaezred does not look at him.
“You have no idea,” he murmurs.
A few days later, after the posters in Daring Heights have gone down and clandestine arrangements have been made, a small parcel arrives at the Appley Ever After in Port Ffirst. Within it: a silver wedding band, a coin purse — containing fifty gold pieces — and a note written in an elegant hand.
HAVE YOU SEEN MY WIFE?
Name: Celina Zabinski
Hair of starlight fire, skin of wintery embers, eyes that have captured my heart.
Any information you may have would be greatly appreciated — and a small sum will be given to anyone whose information proves fruitful. Please write to Sammy Plumbstead at the Four Fair Winds in Daring Heights.
Jaezred rips the poster off its nail and studies it carefully. No doubt, the hand-drawn sketch on it is the face of the tiefling “apple-seller”. He thinks briefly of rubbing it in Belladonna Thorpe’s face that her betrothed has gone off and married some other man, but as fun as such mischievous fancies are, this…situation can be put to better use.
Finding a lonely nook in the streets of Castleside, the drow mage casts sending.
“Miss Zabinski, Lord Jaezred here. There’s a man in Daring Heights distributing missing person posters with your name and face. Is this a problem for you?”
Celina’s voice enters his mind with an explosive curse word. Sammy’s doing…I mean…This person is doing this in Daring Heights too? Dear lord… There is a pause. No problem…I’ll…handle it…Thanks.
“Interesting,” he mumbles to himself, before casting the spell a second time. “I can make this…non-problem…go away discreetly for you. I’m well-connected and very persuasive. It’ll be no skin off your back.”
DON’T touch one hair on his head, she says defensively. Jaezred hears her take a deep breath, and then her voice becomes calmer. Sorry…I mean...Thank you but let me think...If you could take down any of those posters you see...that would be most helpful. Eh...got to go sell more apples and whatnot.
“He will not be harmed if you do not wish it,” he reassures her. “I’ll see what I can do, but I ask for a simple favour in return.”
...What favour, exactly?
“To be my eyes and ears. But we can discuss this later when it is done.”
No more than an hour later, Jaezred Vandree strides into the Four Fair Winds, the rolled-up poster in one hand, his spider-topped cane in the other. His crimson eyes scans the tavern and quickly spots the little man who matches the description: a young halfling, dressed in a finely-made waistcoat, pressed slacks, and a shirt with the sleeves rolled up. (A passable attire, Jaezred thinks.)
He wastes no time and marches up to the halfling’s table. “Are you Sammy Plumbstead?” he asks, or more precisely, demands.
The young man starts at the sudden appearance of the very tall and rather imposing drow. He hastily swallows the mouthful of bacon and eggs in his mouth, trying not to choke, coughs, and sets his utensils down. “I am. Who might I have the pleasure of speaking to?” His eyes do a quick once-over. “My lord,” he adds.
Jaezred brusquely takes the seat across from Sammy’s. “My name is of no importance. I’m here to tell you that your wife does not want to see you.”
Sammy frowns. “How could you know that? And how can I trust the word of a person if they do not give me their name?”
“I am a friend of Celina’s. Think about it, Mr. Plumbstead. You’ve spread these posters far and wide, you’ve searched for Lolth knows how long, and still, she eludes you. That’s clearly because she’s hiding from you.
“I’ve spoken to her, and what you’ve done here”—with a single swift motion, he unrolls the poster in his hand—“has made her even more upset.”
Sammy stares at him for several moments, attempting to gauge the intentions of the nobleman sitting before him. When he realises that he is being sincere, he turns his gaze towards the poster — the sketch of Celina’s face, drawn by his own amateur hand, now looks so crude. Tears threaten to come to his eyes. He swallows hard, appetite gone.
“It was never my intention to make her upset.”
He sits back in his chair, right hand hovering towards the simple silver band on the third finger of his left hand.
“If you are her friend as you claim to be, my lord, then I believe you. I just wish—” Sammy’s voice catches a little as those tears try to choke him up but he holds them back, just barely. “My only wish is for Celina's happiness.”
He slowly takes off the wedding band and holds it in his clenched fist, then brings it up to his lips and closes his eyes. A single, bright tear falls down his stubbled cheek.
“Would you give this to her, my lord?” Sammy asks, holding out the plain ring.
Jaezred watches the scene unfold before him calmly. However, when he speaks again, his deep voice is ever so slightly gentler. “She will talk to you when she is ready, when the time is right. But until then, you must wait. You cannot force it with this.” He holds up the poster higher.
He takes the wedding band and wraps it in a silk handkerchief, his own silver signet ring catching the sunlight streaming in from the windows and glinting as he does so. “I need you to take those posters down, wherever you’ve put them up. It is what she wants.”
Sammy silently nods. He stands, eyes not focused on Jaezred as he addresses him. “I thank you, my lord, for telling me this. Here.” He puts a coin purse down on the table and pushes it across. “I’ll start to take down the posters today.”
He turns to walk away, takes a step, then pauses.
“Love is a fickle mistress, isn’t she? Selfish, taunting, always leaving us wanting more. Heh, heh…” The half-smile on his face drips away, leaving a thousand-yard stare as Sammy looks directly at Jaezred. “That’s the problem with wanting. It makes us weak.”
Not waiting for a response, Sammy walks off to his rooms, his barely-touched food getting colder by the second. Jaezred does not look at him.
“You have no idea,” he murmurs.
A few days later, after the posters in Daring Heights have gone down and clandestine arrangements have been made, a small parcel arrives at the Appley Ever After in Port Ffirst. Within it: a silver wedding band, a coin purse — containing fifty gold pieces — and a note written in an elegant hand.
He asked me to give the ring back to you. He also gave me this purse — I assume this was the reward he was offering for information about you. I thought it best to leave it with you.
You should give these back to him when you are ready.
—J.V.
You should give these back to him when you are ready.
—J.V.
