Terms and conditions apply… – 19 & 26.04.2022 – Delilah
May 29, 2022 2:30:04 GMT
Jaezred Vandree and stephena like this
Post by Delilah Daybreaker on May 29, 2022 2:30:04 GMT
Rolled into a palm sized tube is a piece of nondescript parchment written in a mix of common, symbols, elvish, and draconic.
ASSIGNMENT REPORT #31
People/Organisations of Note:
Oziah Daybreaker – holy warrior, aasimar (fallen), female; mount: Deimos (skeletal, fiend)
Jaezred Vandree – mage (pact magic, patron: the Moonweaver), noble, drow, male; Velve (black widow spider familiar)
Veridian Pentaghast – mage, human, male; homunculus companion, Paracelsus XII
Captain Occam Deeptide – privateer, triton, male; Captain of The Razor, located in the Hells
Fund – privateer, dragonborn (undetermined), male; First Mate of The Razor
Kurtz – mage, adult shadow dragon (was once green), male, father
Professor Kevin Hume – professor orb, was once an elf(?), knowledgeable on Malbolge
Erinyes – two, devils, female, (deceased)
Pit Fiend – devil, male (deceased)
Unnamed Tiefling Mage – pact mage, tiefling, male (deceased)
Locations & Organisations:
Daring Heights – Dawnlands city
Charmor – Riverside port settlement in Avernus
River Styx – River that runs through the nine layers of the Hells
Malbolge – Sixth Layer of the Hells
Glasya’s Citadel – Prison and Torture fortress of the Lord of the Sixth
One moment Jack Gindcoop – aasimar, thief, and opportunist terroriser – is starting his destructive raiding of the kind elderly couple’s home, the telltale glint of greed shining in his eyes as he bags all the valuables he can. The next, he feels a pinch in his lower back and his muscles seize, making him nearly choke on his tongue. His eyes darted around, trying to spot the trap he missed. Jack swears he was thorough. He had canvased the place the night before, leaving a mark on the southwest foundation. Another easy target, easy money, easy escape.
The shadows coalesce and the form of a girl- No. A woman manifests in front of him, her sharp half-elven features achingly beautiful that had he seen her at the Hook Jack would have tried to get some. But her eyes. Oh gods, her eyes are darkness itself, promising pain and a slow death as he stands there, stunned into submission.
Fear and attraction is a heady, confusing cocktail, gentlefriends.
“Normally I wouldn’t get involved in the affairs of an amateur thief like yourself, Jack, but you have something I need.”
Her voice, low and sultry, has the shadows quivering. He feels one brush up against his leg and he wishes he could run away. Fuck, but this chick was scary. What does he have that she could need? And, wait, is that a knife? If only he could speak, Jack was sure he could convince-
He blinks, the knife flashes in the dark – a glint of green and dripping with poison – then a white hot heat blooms between his ribs. The only sound that passes his lips is a soft, “Nngh.”
“Only the weakest thieves pray on the elderly. As you are, you’re not even worth the dirt you walk on.”
Something hard is tapped against his forehead and in his growing fear, he lets his bowels go. So much for being charming.
“But in this, well, you’d finally be worth something.”
His limbs become heavy, his lips cold. Then he feels himself rising up and out of his body, like he is being funnelled into something else. A tight confined space. A cage? No. A coin. Oh gods, he’s heard of these. Oh gods, who did he cross to become trapped in one. Who the fuck is this woman? Why has she done this to him? Why?!
Jack is surrounded by darkness, the weight of his dying body a fading memory. All he knows is silence as he screams into eternity…
Body:
Before getting into the details of the mission which I arranged, there are a few items that must be addressed imminently. Time is short and I might not get a chance to finish this report.
First and foremost are apologies to Her Majesty.
I have been affected by a curse that has slowly been degrading at my being. It started off small; the loss of sense of taste and smell. It was easy to dismiss the lack of flavour and the inability to smell putrid things as insignificant. A cold, even. But when the inability to feel things I touched or was touched by it was more of a minor inconvenience. What was curious was still being able to feel my own self — my equipment and tools. But in Assignment Report #29 whilst helping Daybreaker, we travelled to Jar’s Skyreach in the middle of the day. Sunlight sensitivity, as it turns out, was not only affecting Lord Vandree, but me as well. Then there was the more shadow, wraith-like appearance the others said I had. Vandree communed with the spirits of the Witching Court and the answers they gave were chilling.
It was only to get worse.
Whilst helping Menace with his coups, the partial insubstantiality was more obvious, with any choice attack made with the tools of my trade being half as effective. The benefit in return (if one could call it a “benefit”) was that enemies were unable to land effective blows against me. Magical damage still hurt like hell though.
It was in this current state that I asked my allies – Daybreaker, Vandree, and Pentaghast – to assist me in retrieving the Infernal Contract my father had foolishly signed with the Lord of the Sixth, before whatever phase happened next would set in…
“Daughter, are you sure now is a good time to do this? The curse affecting you – we do not know how bad it will get.”
Kurtz wasn’t trying to hide his concern. Not this time. Somehow that made her even more worried.
Luckily, she is a good liar.
“Yes. Everything is prepared. It is now or wait for Her to hear of our plans and thwart them. I will not risk it.”
There is no follow up sending for a long moment. Then,
“Then I will do what I can to help. Be safe.”
She swallows the lump in her throat.
“And you, father…”
Between all of us we had done enough research to know the only option we truly had to get to Glasya’s Citadel was to go sailing down the River Styx. That left two transport options: The Ferrymen or Hell Pirates. Turns out there are mortals who willingly and wantonly sail the River Styx because their lives as privateers on the Material Plane or elsewhere was “too intense” even for such roughians. Quite admirable, really — if it didn’t require one to be wrapped in the skins of lemurs in order to protect oneself from the ravages of the River. (NB: It is disgusting and there’s no way to sell it to me that would make me think otherwise.)
Daybreaker and Pentaghast found the name of one Captain Occam Deeptide who is known to pull into port near the settlement of Charmor in Avernus. His ship, The Razor, is not very large, but it is fast. Considering we needed to sail down five layers to reach our destination, speed was the major requirement. The Razor was even faster than the ferrymen, though it should be noted that even if the River did splash up into their boats, the riders were protected. For us, if the River Styx decided to leap up at us, we were well and truly fucked. (NB: Thankfully, this did not happen.)
It took some bartering, but gold and magical items are their preferred method of payment for such ruffians. A fortunate thing considering amongst us there was only one Soul Coin, and we did not wish to use that bartering chip unless we absolutely had to…
“Captain Occam Deeptide at your service,” the skin wrapped triton says, bowing.
“We would like to purchase your services,” Jaezred begins.
“Where to?” the Captain asks.
“To the sixth layer of Hell,” Delilah answers, her voice coming out magically altered due to her ‘Tinuviel’ disguise.
Captain Occam doesn’t flinch but his words are tight. “To travel to the sixth will require significant payment.”
Jazred waves a hand like that doesn’t surprise any of them. “Name your price. Let’s start bartering.”
Occam considers them. Then his eyes flash and they all recognise the telltale signs of the detect magic spell. He methodically looks over each of them, eyes lingering on every magical item they possess.
“It will be three days of travel for my crew. I require four thousand gold pieces and something special. Something that will incentivise them to remain loyal.”
“Three thousand gold, we’ll give you an item, and we will help you raid,” Jaezred counters.
“Three thousand gold, a trinket, and if we need to raid you will fight by my side,” Captain Occam counters again.
Jaezred appeared to be considering it. The deal was good, but to Delilah there was just one thing she wanted to clarify.
“That seems reasonable,” Jaezred starts, but before he says any final binding words, Delilah steps forward.
“There’s just one thing I’d like to make clear. When we help you raid, this will not be an opportunity to betray us. If any of us come to any harm from you or your crew, you will get nothing.”
The Captain smiles.
“I won’t stab you in the back.”
He cannot see it, but Delilah narrows her eyes at the skin-wrapped triton, her whole body tensing up, ready to make a point. But after a moment she relaxes. Occam is telling the truth – he isn’t going to betray them, but the idea isn’t fully off the table. Yet.
She nods to him and steps back, letting Jaezred take the lead again.
“It seems we have an accord,” the drow lord says.
Occam steps back and gestures to the gangplank. “I welcome you aboard The Raizor…”
The journey down the River was fairly standard for a Hellish River Cruise. We ended up gaining favour with the crew (NB: It’s amazing the power fresh water and delicious food can have to win over the hearts of even the most debased scoundrel.) which meant when it came time to protect the ship from hellish wasps that attacked us on the Fourth, we had no need to worry about a knife in the back (NB: Further helped by Daybreaker healing the one crew member that got impaled by said insects.).
Despite earlier impressions, Captain Deeptide will put himself between an enemy and his crew with a shield and knives. This not only commands the respect of his crew, entirely through sheer strength it should be noted, but also because everything he does is what’s best for the entire crew. Seeing our abilities and willingness to throw ourselves into battle as well was the final nail in the proverbial coffin that won over the Captain and his crew…
“By morning we will be in the sixth layer. Where are we headed?” Captain Occam asks them.
A cat made of shadows steps out of her shadow as Delilah says, “The only place that truly matters – The Citadel,”
The Captain just stares at her.
“Are you sure?”
He does his best to hide his trepidation but Delilah knows it’s there.
“Oh yes…”
It is what allowed us to negotiate for our return trip back. Of course, we had to get into Glasya’s stronghold first…
“If you wish to enter unseen, there is a tributary that enters into the river. Next to the outflow there is a door – a lesser known entrance.”
Delilah studies the captain but cannot sense any deceit in his words. It seems during the short span of days they have sailed together, she and the others have managed to win over the hardened hellish pirates.
Her illusioned ‘Tinuviel’ head nods, mimicking her own gesture. “Then we shall head in that direction. See you soon, Captain…”
Entering by way of a lesser known door, (NB: The password is the seven deadly sins.) we were greeted by a horrid pile of flesh. Buffing up with the protection of Shadows and Pentaghast sharing his ability to make us all invisible, we proceeded up the layers of Glasya’s citadel. Further details of the torture rooms can be found in Appendix A with the various tortures inflicted upon those in their cells. (NB: My personal favourite is the Erinyes being tortured with ‘kindness’.)
With Professor Hume’s help, we were able to find the chamber that held the important, active contracts Glasya kept close. They were being guarded by two Erinyes’, a Pit Fiend, and an elderly pact mage. They were easy enough to dispatch, with Daybreaker and I doing most of the “heavy lifting.” (NB: If Vandree and Pentaghast had been more focused on the enemies and less on trying to out magic each other the fight might have gone faster. What is it with mages, be they any kind, and always wanting to measure their magical prowess against another’s?) Once the obstacles were removed, we grabbed all of the infernal puzzle boxes containing infernal contracts, and any additional items of note, and then booked it out of there. Alarms had started ringing and none of us wanted to be there when reinforcements arrived.
After exiting the Citadel, The Razor was waiting for us. Without any delay, Captain Deeptide and his crew got us back into the River Styx and on our way up to Avernus.
When we returned to Fort Ettin, Vandree, Pentaghast and myself attempted to open three of the six infernal puzzle boxes we grabbed. Vandree’s box contained a contract for a being known as ‘Plek Free’ who exchanged their soul for dominance in the gem and jewellery business in the Iron City of Dis. Pentaghast’s box contained a contract for a one ‘Sur Klemp the Destroyer’, who apparently signed their soul over for the creation and ownership of something called the ‘Blade of Annihilation’. In the box I opened was Kurtz’s, which I now keep in a safe place…
Appearing in Kurtz’s telltale, elegant scrawl is a reply to Jaezred’s sending he had written, informing her father that she had his contract in hand.
‘Tell my daughter I love her, I’ll be with you as soon as I have paid a debt, I don’t want anyone else hunting me.’
Delilah keeps her expression as neutral as possible but she cannot help but feel the skip her heart makes at the message she reads over Jaezred’s shoulder. He offers to send a response back on her behalf.
“Tell him, ‘Neh diis lus’a, lus diis’a. I will be waiting, father…’”
He has not returned as of the writing of this report but the last communication he sent made it seem Kurtz will not be returning for some time. It is strange, having a parental figure who apparently had no care for me for most of my life, suddenly showing such intense worry for my well being. Though I know it is mostly, entirely, probably from the fey bargain he made with my mother, a small part of me cannot help but wonder… is it truly all fey magic?
Report passed on 28 day of the Claw of Storms.
Neh diis lus’a, lus diis’a.
She sits back letting the ink dry on the parchment, reading over the words. Perhaps she should remove that last part. It really isn’t relevant to the report. In fact, her reports as of late have been less relevant to the mission she came out here to do and more like a journal of her time here. She’s surprised there hasn’t been a request to return to the Twilight Court. But then, perhaps it is best she hasn’t received one. If she did, it would mean a lot more trouble for her and an explanation owed to Oziah.
Which is another conversation she’s deftly dodged so far. But for how much longer? Will there come a point where she has to tell her love about her ties? Perhaps. But what would that mean for her? Would the Queen be angry? Would she be regarded as a traitor?
Delilah throws some sand over the ink, helping it dry faster. She is preparing the small tube the report would go into when the thing falls through her hand, clattering to the floor.
Oziah lets out a snort-like snore as she rolls over on their still slightly singed four poster bed. Delilah doesn’t move, doesn’t even breathe. She’s too stunned at what just happened.
Beastie coalesces into being from the shadows beside the tube.
“…did this just…”
She doesn’t answer for a moment.
“…fall through my hand?”
The not-cat looks up at her, waiting.
Delilah reaches down and picks up the tube. She holds it tightly pinched between her fingers but she feels it wanting to pass out of her grip again.
“It’s getting worse.”
There aren’t any words, just a feeling of wanting to help from the tiny shadow cat.
She moves quickly rolling up the sheet and sticking it into the tube and attaching it to the harness on Beastie.
“I don’t have much time left.” She wasn’t sure how she knew this, but the moment she thought it she knew it was true.
“…I won’t leave you…”
“To deliver this you must. It’s important she gets it. It may be the last one I send for a while…”
Beastie leaps up to her lap. “…if that is what you wish…”
She didn’t want Beastie to leave. They were the only being – living or otherwise – she could feel that wasn’t herself or her equipment. A knife cannot offer the comfort that another living being can. She could no longer feel the touch of Oziah’s hand anymore, nor the air of her breath. Beastie was the only being she had.
“It is what I need.”
They close their not-eyes. “…I will be swift…”
She was putting her writing implements away when the voice of her father entered her mind.
“Keep the contract close, I am still on the hunt for information on Lillibut and your condition worries me more so much. Stay safe daughter.”
The irony of the timing is too coincidental that, were she a believer in any of the gods, she might have believed they were pulling the strings of her Fate. As it was, the thought did not even cross her mind.
“It’ll be kept safe,” she reassures him.
There’s a slight pause before she adds, “…I’m approaching the end of whatever this is. Whatever you’re doing, don’t be reckless for my sake.”
Another slight pause, before Delilah adds in a quiet voice so unlike her own, “…I love you, Father.”
ASSIGNMENT REPORT #31
People/Organisations of Note:
Oziah Daybreaker – holy warrior, aasimar (fallen), female; mount: Deimos (skeletal, fiend)
Jaezred Vandree – mage (pact magic, patron: the Moonweaver), noble, drow, male; Velve (black widow spider familiar)
Veridian Pentaghast – mage, human, male; homunculus companion, Paracelsus XII
Captain Occam Deeptide – privateer, triton, male; Captain of The Razor, located in the Hells
Fund – privateer, dragonborn (undetermined), male; First Mate of The Razor
Kurtz – mage, adult shadow dragon (was once green), male, father
Professor Kevin Hume – professor orb, was once an elf(?), knowledgeable on Malbolge
Erinyes – two, devils, female, (deceased)
Pit Fiend – devil, male (deceased)
Unnamed Tiefling Mage – pact mage, tiefling, male (deceased)
Locations & Organisations:
Daring Heights – Dawnlands city
Charmor – Riverside port settlement in Avernus
River Styx – River that runs through the nine layers of the Hells
Malbolge – Sixth Layer of the Hells
Glasya’s Citadel – Prison and Torture fortress of the Lord of the Sixth
One moment Jack Gindcoop – aasimar, thief, and opportunist terroriser – is starting his destructive raiding of the kind elderly couple’s home, the telltale glint of greed shining in his eyes as he bags all the valuables he can. The next, he feels a pinch in his lower back and his muscles seize, making him nearly choke on his tongue. His eyes darted around, trying to spot the trap he missed. Jack swears he was thorough. He had canvased the place the night before, leaving a mark on the southwest foundation. Another easy target, easy money, easy escape.
The shadows coalesce and the form of a girl- No. A woman manifests in front of him, her sharp half-elven features achingly beautiful that had he seen her at the Hook Jack would have tried to get some. But her eyes. Oh gods, her eyes are darkness itself, promising pain and a slow death as he stands there, stunned into submission.
Fear and attraction is a heady, confusing cocktail, gentlefriends.
“Normally I wouldn’t get involved in the affairs of an amateur thief like yourself, Jack, but you have something I need.”
Her voice, low and sultry, has the shadows quivering. He feels one brush up against his leg and he wishes he could run away. Fuck, but this chick was scary. What does he have that she could need? And, wait, is that a knife? If only he could speak, Jack was sure he could convince-
He blinks, the knife flashes in the dark – a glint of green and dripping with poison – then a white hot heat blooms between his ribs. The only sound that passes his lips is a soft, “Nngh.”
“Only the weakest thieves pray on the elderly. As you are, you’re not even worth the dirt you walk on.”
Something hard is tapped against his forehead and in his growing fear, he lets his bowels go. So much for being charming.
“But in this, well, you’d finally be worth something.”
His limbs become heavy, his lips cold. Then he feels himself rising up and out of his body, like he is being funnelled into something else. A tight confined space. A cage? No. A coin. Oh gods, he’s heard of these. Oh gods, who did he cross to become trapped in one. Who the fuck is this woman? Why has she done this to him? Why?!
Jack is surrounded by darkness, the weight of his dying body a fading memory. All he knows is silence as he screams into eternity…
Body:
Before getting into the details of the mission which I arranged, there are a few items that must be addressed imminently. Time is short and I might not get a chance to finish this report.
First and foremost are apologies to Her Majesty.
I have been affected by a curse that has slowly been degrading at my being. It started off small; the loss of sense of taste and smell. It was easy to dismiss the lack of flavour and the inability to smell putrid things as insignificant. A cold, even. But when the inability to feel things I touched or was touched by it was more of a minor inconvenience. What was curious was still being able to feel my own self — my equipment and tools. But in Assignment Report #29 whilst helping Daybreaker, we travelled to Jar’s Skyreach in the middle of the day. Sunlight sensitivity, as it turns out, was not only affecting Lord Vandree, but me as well. Then there was the more shadow, wraith-like appearance the others said I had. Vandree communed with the spirits of the Witching Court and the answers they gave were chilling.
It was only to get worse.
Whilst helping Menace with his coups, the partial insubstantiality was more obvious, with any choice attack made with the tools of my trade being half as effective. The benefit in return (if one could call it a “benefit”) was that enemies were unable to land effective blows against me. Magical damage still hurt like hell though.
It was in this current state that I asked my allies – Daybreaker, Vandree, and Pentaghast – to assist me in retrieving the Infernal Contract my father had foolishly signed with the Lord of the Sixth, before whatever phase happened next would set in…
“Daughter, are you sure now is a good time to do this? The curse affecting you – we do not know how bad it will get.”
Kurtz wasn’t trying to hide his concern. Not this time. Somehow that made her even more worried.
Luckily, she is a good liar.
“Yes. Everything is prepared. It is now or wait for Her to hear of our plans and thwart them. I will not risk it.”
There is no follow up sending for a long moment. Then,
“Then I will do what I can to help. Be safe.”
She swallows the lump in her throat.
“And you, father…”
Between all of us we had done enough research to know the only option we truly had to get to Glasya’s Citadel was to go sailing down the River Styx. That left two transport options: The Ferrymen or Hell Pirates. Turns out there are mortals who willingly and wantonly sail the River Styx because their lives as privateers on the Material Plane or elsewhere was “too intense” even for such roughians. Quite admirable, really — if it didn’t require one to be wrapped in the skins of lemurs in order to protect oneself from the ravages of the River. (NB: It is disgusting and there’s no way to sell it to me that would make me think otherwise.)
Daybreaker and Pentaghast found the name of one Captain Occam Deeptide who is known to pull into port near the settlement of Charmor in Avernus. His ship, The Razor, is not very large, but it is fast. Considering we needed to sail down five layers to reach our destination, speed was the major requirement. The Razor was even faster than the ferrymen, though it should be noted that even if the River did splash up into their boats, the riders were protected. For us, if the River Styx decided to leap up at us, we were well and truly fucked. (NB: Thankfully, this did not happen.)
It took some bartering, but gold and magical items are their preferred method of payment for such ruffians. A fortunate thing considering amongst us there was only one Soul Coin, and we did not wish to use that bartering chip unless we absolutely had to…
“Captain Occam Deeptide at your service,” the skin wrapped triton says, bowing.
“We would like to purchase your services,” Jaezred begins.
“Where to?” the Captain asks.
“To the sixth layer of Hell,” Delilah answers, her voice coming out magically altered due to her ‘Tinuviel’ disguise.
Captain Occam doesn’t flinch but his words are tight. “To travel to the sixth will require significant payment.”
Jazred waves a hand like that doesn’t surprise any of them. “Name your price. Let’s start bartering.”
Occam considers them. Then his eyes flash and they all recognise the telltale signs of the detect magic spell. He methodically looks over each of them, eyes lingering on every magical item they possess.
“It will be three days of travel for my crew. I require four thousand gold pieces and something special. Something that will incentivise them to remain loyal.”
“Three thousand gold, we’ll give you an item, and we will help you raid,” Jaezred counters.
“Three thousand gold, a trinket, and if we need to raid you will fight by my side,” Captain Occam counters again.
Jaezred appeared to be considering it. The deal was good, but to Delilah there was just one thing she wanted to clarify.
“That seems reasonable,” Jaezred starts, but before he says any final binding words, Delilah steps forward.
“There’s just one thing I’d like to make clear. When we help you raid, this will not be an opportunity to betray us. If any of us come to any harm from you or your crew, you will get nothing.”
The Captain smiles.
“I won’t stab you in the back.”
He cannot see it, but Delilah narrows her eyes at the skin-wrapped triton, her whole body tensing up, ready to make a point. But after a moment she relaxes. Occam is telling the truth – he isn’t going to betray them, but the idea isn’t fully off the table. Yet.
She nods to him and steps back, letting Jaezred take the lead again.
“It seems we have an accord,” the drow lord says.
Occam steps back and gestures to the gangplank. “I welcome you aboard The Raizor…”
The journey down the River was fairly standard for a Hellish River Cruise. We ended up gaining favour with the crew (NB: It’s amazing the power fresh water and delicious food can have to win over the hearts of even the most debased scoundrel.) which meant when it came time to protect the ship from hellish wasps that attacked us on the Fourth, we had no need to worry about a knife in the back (NB: Further helped by Daybreaker healing the one crew member that got impaled by said insects.).
Despite earlier impressions, Captain Deeptide will put himself between an enemy and his crew with a shield and knives. This not only commands the respect of his crew, entirely through sheer strength it should be noted, but also because everything he does is what’s best for the entire crew. Seeing our abilities and willingness to throw ourselves into battle as well was the final nail in the proverbial coffin that won over the Captain and his crew…
“By morning we will be in the sixth layer. Where are we headed?” Captain Occam asks them.
A cat made of shadows steps out of her shadow as Delilah says, “The only place that truly matters – The Citadel,”
The Captain just stares at her.
“Are you sure?”
He does his best to hide his trepidation but Delilah knows it’s there.
“Oh yes…”
It is what allowed us to negotiate for our return trip back. Of course, we had to get into Glasya’s stronghold first…
“If you wish to enter unseen, there is a tributary that enters into the river. Next to the outflow there is a door – a lesser known entrance.”
Delilah studies the captain but cannot sense any deceit in his words. It seems during the short span of days they have sailed together, she and the others have managed to win over the hardened hellish pirates.
Her illusioned ‘Tinuviel’ head nods, mimicking her own gesture. “Then we shall head in that direction. See you soon, Captain…”
Entering by way of a lesser known door, (NB: The password is the seven deadly sins.) we were greeted by a horrid pile of flesh. Buffing up with the protection of Shadows and Pentaghast sharing his ability to make us all invisible, we proceeded up the layers of Glasya’s citadel. Further details of the torture rooms can be found in Appendix A with the various tortures inflicted upon those in their cells. (NB: My personal favourite is the Erinyes being tortured with ‘kindness’.)
With Professor Hume’s help, we were able to find the chamber that held the important, active contracts Glasya kept close. They were being guarded by two Erinyes’, a Pit Fiend, and an elderly pact mage. They were easy enough to dispatch, with Daybreaker and I doing most of the “heavy lifting.” (NB: If Vandree and Pentaghast had been more focused on the enemies and less on trying to out magic each other the fight might have gone faster. What is it with mages, be they any kind, and always wanting to measure their magical prowess against another’s?) Once the obstacles were removed, we grabbed all of the infernal puzzle boxes containing infernal contracts, and any additional items of note, and then booked it out of there. Alarms had started ringing and none of us wanted to be there when reinforcements arrived.
After exiting the Citadel, The Razor was waiting for us. Without any delay, Captain Deeptide and his crew got us back into the River Styx and on our way up to Avernus.
When we returned to Fort Ettin, Vandree, Pentaghast and myself attempted to open three of the six infernal puzzle boxes we grabbed. Vandree’s box contained a contract for a being known as ‘Plek Free’ who exchanged their soul for dominance in the gem and jewellery business in the Iron City of Dis. Pentaghast’s box contained a contract for a one ‘Sur Klemp the Destroyer’, who apparently signed their soul over for the creation and ownership of something called the ‘Blade of Annihilation’. In the box I opened was Kurtz’s, which I now keep in a safe place…
Appearing in Kurtz’s telltale, elegant scrawl is a reply to Jaezred’s sending he had written, informing her father that she had his contract in hand.
‘Tell my daughter I love her, I’ll be with you as soon as I have paid a debt, I don’t want anyone else hunting me.’
Delilah keeps her expression as neutral as possible but she cannot help but feel the skip her heart makes at the message she reads over Jaezred’s shoulder. He offers to send a response back on her behalf.
“Tell him, ‘Neh diis lus’a, lus diis’a. I will be waiting, father…’”
He has not returned as of the writing of this report but the last communication he sent made it seem Kurtz will not be returning for some time. It is strange, having a parental figure who apparently had no care for me for most of my life, suddenly showing such intense worry for my well being. Though I know it is mostly, entirely, probably from the fey bargain he made with my mother, a small part of me cannot help but wonder… is it truly all fey magic?
Report passed on 28 day of the Claw of Storms.
Neh diis lus’a, lus diis’a.
She sits back letting the ink dry on the parchment, reading over the words. Perhaps she should remove that last part. It really isn’t relevant to the report. In fact, her reports as of late have been less relevant to the mission she came out here to do and more like a journal of her time here. She’s surprised there hasn’t been a request to return to the Twilight Court. But then, perhaps it is best she hasn’t received one. If she did, it would mean a lot more trouble for her and an explanation owed to Oziah.
Which is another conversation she’s deftly dodged so far. But for how much longer? Will there come a point where she has to tell her love about her ties? Perhaps. But what would that mean for her? Would the Queen be angry? Would she be regarded as a traitor?
Delilah throws some sand over the ink, helping it dry faster. She is preparing the small tube the report would go into when the thing falls through her hand, clattering to the floor.
Oziah lets out a snort-like snore as she rolls over on their still slightly singed four poster bed. Delilah doesn’t move, doesn’t even breathe. She’s too stunned at what just happened.
Beastie coalesces into being from the shadows beside the tube.
“…did this just…”
She doesn’t answer for a moment.
“…fall through my hand?”
The not-cat looks up at her, waiting.
Delilah reaches down and picks up the tube. She holds it tightly pinched between her fingers but she feels it wanting to pass out of her grip again.
“It’s getting worse.”
There aren’t any words, just a feeling of wanting to help from the tiny shadow cat.
She moves quickly rolling up the sheet and sticking it into the tube and attaching it to the harness on Beastie.
“I don’t have much time left.” She wasn’t sure how she knew this, but the moment she thought it she knew it was true.
“…I won’t leave you…”
“To deliver this you must. It’s important she gets it. It may be the last one I send for a while…”
Beastie leaps up to her lap. “…if that is what you wish…”
She didn’t want Beastie to leave. They were the only being – living or otherwise – she could feel that wasn’t herself or her equipment. A knife cannot offer the comfort that another living being can. She could no longer feel the touch of Oziah’s hand anymore, nor the air of her breath. Beastie was the only being she had.
“It is what I need.”
They close their not-eyes. “…I will be swift…”
She was putting her writing implements away when the voice of her father entered her mind.
“Keep the contract close, I am still on the hunt for information on Lillibut and your condition worries me more so much. Stay safe daughter.”
The irony of the timing is too coincidental that, were she a believer in any of the gods, she might have believed they were pulling the strings of her Fate. As it was, the thought did not even cross her mind.
“It’ll be kept safe,” she reassures him.
There’s a slight pause before she adds, “…I’m approaching the end of whatever this is. Whatever you’re doing, don’t be reckless for my sake.”
Another slight pause, before Delilah adds in a quiet voice so unlike her own, “…I love you, Father.”
