Vanity Incarnate - 12/01 - Glint
Jan 24, 2022 20:18:26 GMT
Toothy, willjenkins, and 2 more like this
Post by Varga on Jan 24, 2022 20:18:26 GMT
Dearest Sunshine,
I hope you are well and the hearth in your home is burning as bright as ever.
Forgive me an overly formal greeting, I must be talking to educated people too much lately. Congratulations on the score you sent me in your last letter. I believe you are now well and truly ahead of me. Not that I'm competing anymore…
I went to the mountains lately. It was a great trip, really helped me to get a better perspective on things. The city life has a way of sucking you in like a bog, I understand why you hate it so. I traveled with some companions, old and new. There was Kavel, I've told you about him. Very rigorous with his training. Even made me lift a couple of weights! Then there was Derthaad, an upstanding chap, an investigator for the Daring Heights Watch. Gerhard, whom I haven't seen for months. Such a pleasure to go on a field trip with another geographer! And Nimble – I haven't met him before, a stealthy fellow, we barely spoke.
I must admit, the first two nights of our track I just spent comparing maps with Gerhard (no, this is not a euphemism, geography is as flippant as you are here in Kantas). If we were attacked by a tarrasque, I swear I wouldn't have noticed. But I was quite glad to be distracted from thinking about Root not writing to me once since our winter party. Naturally, I only have myself to blame – who would enjoy their barely boyfriend showing up on their doorstep four years older than he left a week ago, and with a bunch of young deviants in tow?..
But I digress. On the third day we reached the cliffside temple where we hoped to find the Lamia. I intended to study it, and didn't have high hopes for its survival. You remember them, nasty creatures, very stubborn and undiplomatic.
We expected the temple to be turned into a lair, imagine our surprise at finding it instead turned into a gymnasium! Turned out Kavel's Strength Club, the Ironfist Company, set up camp there. I must say, I'd rather not see five muscly men working out, but needs must, and I can't yet afford to be picky about my research sites.
You know how paranoid I am, so, as Kavel was catching up with his friends, I cast a spell to detect magic, and walked around the amphitheater-turned-gym. The events took a somewhat rapid turn when Kavel mentioned Lamia. His friends acknowledged that it trained with them, and that it also made them werewolves to ensure its own protection. They offered lycanthropy to Kavel, but at that moment I registered some illusion magic coming from behind the door, and messaged Kavel to hold off on committing to anything.
I tried approaching it diplomatically and inquired as to where their Lamia, by the name of Mestiphles, was at the moment, when one of the strength enthusiasts all but picked me up by the shoulders and demanded to know why I was asking. He was glowing with illusion magic, and his hands appeared to have just a bit more claws on them than a normal half-orc should have.
'Ah. Mestiphles, I presume?' was all I managed.
I was right. The Lamia wasn't altogether unpleasant. It offered me to join their pack, and called me beautiful. I mumbled that I was honored, but spoken for. My words must have sounded hollow though. Indeed, I am spoken for by a man who has not once spoken of my attractiveness! But fortunately for me, Lamia had its eyes on Kavel as a more conventional expression of strength, and paid my doubts no mind. The goliath was livid his friends were being mind-controlled and demanded that Lamia released them. Unsurprisingly for such creatures, it declined. They are often obsessed with themselves in an almost religious sort of way, and I've always found arguing with fanatics a fruitless endeavor.
Naturally, we had to fight our way out. Kavel was facing the Lamia, and I was fending off one of his fellows-turned-werewolves with nothing but a magic shield in my hands. Fighting back to back with a barbarian – not the position I thought I'd ever find myself in! Nimble and Gerhard ended up on the other side of three werewolves who ran up the steps to help their leader. Derthaad was attacked by one of the trio, and promptly teleported from the amphitheater to the balcony, only to run into the fourth one.
Luckily, the werewolves were so tightly packed on a small staircase that we managed to concentrate our fire. It was rather amusing to see one of them slip on my ball bearings and fall on his arse right onto the spikes that Derthaad caused to grow on the stairs. Gerhard helped Kavel with a Hunter's Mark, while I teleported to stand between Derthaad and Nimble, in the relative safety. As my companions were trying to navigate a tricky conundrum of fighting off the werewolves whilst not hurting Kavel's friends too badly, I've noticed something odd. Lamia, now out of its disguise, stepped away from Kavel. That part was completely normal, I'd hate to stand anywhere near the business end of his weapon. But he didn't take a swing at it as it moved.
Lamias are known for their mind tricks, and we couldn't lose our most capable fighter. So, I cast dispel magic on Kavel just to be on the safe side. It looked like I was right, as he shook his head and then proceeded to make sure Lamia was level with the stone terrace it stood on. As it died, the werewolves were free from its charm, one ran off, much to Kavel's distress, and the other two apologized to us profoundly. They remained werewolves, but insisted they were fully in control of their form, so we agreed for them to accompany us to Fort Ettin. I hope this decision would not backfire.
Kavel and his friends were also nice enough to carry Lamia's corpse all the way to the Academy. You should've seen Jacobson's face when I turned up with yet another specimen to study! I didn't have the time to linger, perhaps for the better, I fear the man intended to turn me into a slug. So, after almost a week on the go, I ended up back at Fort Ettin.
Ending exactly where I started. Don't you think it's poetic? At least I managed to get a few coins for the items we found at the temple.
As I sat at the table, drinking, I considered sending a message to Root. But I decided against it. True, he told me he wants us to be more than friends, but I begin to question how much more, to be honest. Just because he has endless patience it doesn't mean I get to endlessly abuse it. I wonder if that is how normal people live. Weeks and months of nothing to be content with a fleeting meeting, a mere acceptance, a peck on the cheek? Maybe adventuring life is not conducive to relationships… Or maybe, I've just had too many temptations presented to me at once, and am simply sulking because there's no way for me to vent?
Please do not send me your suggestions of what I should do instead, paper sometimes catches fire from your turns of phrase. Just tell me how things are back home. And is the company still in one piece? Have you perhaps burned down another hall?
Always yours,
Glint.
I hope you are well and the hearth in your home is burning as bright as ever.
Forgive me an overly formal greeting, I must be talking to educated people too much lately. Congratulations on the score you sent me in your last letter. I believe you are now well and truly ahead of me. Not that I'm competing anymore…
I went to the mountains lately. It was a great trip, really helped me to get a better perspective on things. The city life has a way of sucking you in like a bog, I understand why you hate it so. I traveled with some companions, old and new. There was Kavel, I've told you about him. Very rigorous with his training. Even made me lift a couple of weights! Then there was Derthaad, an upstanding chap, an investigator for the Daring Heights Watch. Gerhard, whom I haven't seen for months. Such a pleasure to go on a field trip with another geographer! And Nimble – I haven't met him before, a stealthy fellow, we barely spoke.
I must admit, the first two nights of our track I just spent comparing maps with Gerhard (no, this is not a euphemism, geography is as flippant as you are here in Kantas). If we were attacked by a tarrasque, I swear I wouldn't have noticed. But I was quite glad to be distracted from thinking about Root not writing to me once since our winter party. Naturally, I only have myself to blame – who would enjoy their barely boyfriend showing up on their doorstep four years older than he left a week ago, and with a bunch of young deviants in tow?..
But I digress. On the third day we reached the cliffside temple where we hoped to find the Lamia. I intended to study it, and didn't have high hopes for its survival. You remember them, nasty creatures, very stubborn and undiplomatic.
We expected the temple to be turned into a lair, imagine our surprise at finding it instead turned into a gymnasium! Turned out Kavel's Strength Club, the Ironfist Company, set up camp there. I must say, I'd rather not see five muscly men working out, but needs must, and I can't yet afford to be picky about my research sites.
You know how paranoid I am, so, as Kavel was catching up with his friends, I cast a spell to detect magic, and walked around the amphitheater-turned-gym. The events took a somewhat rapid turn when Kavel mentioned Lamia. His friends acknowledged that it trained with them, and that it also made them werewolves to ensure its own protection. They offered lycanthropy to Kavel, but at that moment I registered some illusion magic coming from behind the door, and messaged Kavel to hold off on committing to anything.
I tried approaching it diplomatically and inquired as to where their Lamia, by the name of Mestiphles, was at the moment, when one of the strength enthusiasts all but picked me up by the shoulders and demanded to know why I was asking. He was glowing with illusion magic, and his hands appeared to have just a bit more claws on them than a normal half-orc should have.
'Ah. Mestiphles, I presume?' was all I managed.
I was right. The Lamia wasn't altogether unpleasant. It offered me to join their pack, and called me beautiful. I mumbled that I was honored, but spoken for. My words must have sounded hollow though. Indeed, I am spoken for by a man who has not once spoken of my attractiveness! But fortunately for me, Lamia had its eyes on Kavel as a more conventional expression of strength, and paid my doubts no mind. The goliath was livid his friends were being mind-controlled and demanded that Lamia released them. Unsurprisingly for such creatures, it declined. They are often obsessed with themselves in an almost religious sort of way, and I've always found arguing with fanatics a fruitless endeavor.
Naturally, we had to fight our way out. Kavel was facing the Lamia, and I was fending off one of his fellows-turned-werewolves with nothing but a magic shield in my hands. Fighting back to back with a barbarian – not the position I thought I'd ever find myself in! Nimble and Gerhard ended up on the other side of three werewolves who ran up the steps to help their leader. Derthaad was attacked by one of the trio, and promptly teleported from the amphitheater to the balcony, only to run into the fourth one.
Luckily, the werewolves were so tightly packed on a small staircase that we managed to concentrate our fire. It was rather amusing to see one of them slip on my ball bearings and fall on his arse right onto the spikes that Derthaad caused to grow on the stairs. Gerhard helped Kavel with a Hunter's Mark, while I teleported to stand between Derthaad and Nimble, in the relative safety. As my companions were trying to navigate a tricky conundrum of fighting off the werewolves whilst not hurting Kavel's friends too badly, I've noticed something odd. Lamia, now out of its disguise, stepped away from Kavel. That part was completely normal, I'd hate to stand anywhere near the business end of his weapon. But he didn't take a swing at it as it moved.
Lamias are known for their mind tricks, and we couldn't lose our most capable fighter. So, I cast dispel magic on Kavel just to be on the safe side. It looked like I was right, as he shook his head and then proceeded to make sure Lamia was level with the stone terrace it stood on. As it died, the werewolves were free from its charm, one ran off, much to Kavel's distress, and the other two apologized to us profoundly. They remained werewolves, but insisted they were fully in control of their form, so we agreed for them to accompany us to Fort Ettin. I hope this decision would not backfire.
Kavel and his friends were also nice enough to carry Lamia's corpse all the way to the Academy. You should've seen Jacobson's face when I turned up with yet another specimen to study! I didn't have the time to linger, perhaps for the better, I fear the man intended to turn me into a slug. So, after almost a week on the go, I ended up back at Fort Ettin.
Ending exactly where I started. Don't you think it's poetic? At least I managed to get a few coins for the items we found at the temple.
As I sat at the table, drinking, I considered sending a message to Root. But I decided against it. True, he told me he wants us to be more than friends, but I begin to question how much more, to be honest. Just because he has endless patience it doesn't mean I get to endlessly abuse it. I wonder if that is how normal people live. Weeks and months of nothing to be content with a fleeting meeting, a mere acceptance, a peck on the cheek? Maybe adventuring life is not conducive to relationships… Or maybe, I've just had too many temptations presented to me at once, and am simply sulking because there's no way for me to vent?
Please do not send me your suggestions of what I should do instead, paper sometimes catches fire from your turns of phrase. Just tell me how things are back home. And is the company still in one piece? Have you perhaps burned down another hall?
Always yours,
Glint.
