First Contact - 09/05/24 - Safire
May 21, 2024 20:57:23 GMT
Jaezred Vandree, Andy D, and 1 more like this
Post by Nic on May 21, 2024 20:57:23 GMT
Co-written with Jaezred Vandree 
---
Safire can usually be found hanging around the various pubs around Port Ffirst, drinking, flirting, and just trying to have fun. However, today she isn’t in any boozer in town. She is instead sitting on a bench overlooking the harbour, a bottle of rum in hand.
As she sits and drinks, from the corner of her eye, she sees a dandelion growing between the cobblestones. She scowls. “Oh no you don’t! I see you!” And she casts lightning lure to rip the plant from the ground.
Catching it in her hand, she sighs, “Never get the bloody roots…” and throws the flower over her shoulder.
“So, this is what surface dwellers call ‘hay fever’?”
Safire turns her head, her long white static hair moving as if it has its own wind. Standing behind the bench is a tall drow gentleman, casually poking at the burnt remains of the flower with a black tapered fashion cane.
“I call it cultivation prevention.” She turns properly to look at the drow behind her, obviously giving him the up-and-down look. Taking in all his fine clothing, she raises an eyebrow before turning back to face the harbour.
“If you’re looking for passage, speak to the harbourmaster. I’m sure there’s a captain more than happy to overcharge you.” She smirks and takes a small swig from her bottle of rum.
“Oh, no. Why go out to sea when I’ve got a perfectly good view here?” The drow walks slowly around the other end of the bench and flashes Safire a charming smile.
Safire still smirks but eyes him suspiciously. “Charmer.”
He looks down at the spot on the cobbles where the dandelion grew, now marked by a circle of black ash. “I am wondering, why are you trying to prevent flowers from growing in this old dock?”
Following his gaze down to the black ash, she frowns. “I have had some… encounters with the local flora over the last few months. And I am very keen to not become their next victim.” She stops and chuckles to herself. “Nevermind me. Just a crazy, washed up pirate trying not to cause a panic.” She turns her gaze back to the sea and takes another large gulp from the rum.
“I don’t think you’re crazy. Not when there is gossip going all around town about the very same thing.” The drow sits down and procures from within his coat a metal flask, which he offers to Safire. “Tell me more about these deadly local flora.”
“Well, aren’t you a nosey chap.” Safire gladly takes the flask and offers her own rum in return.
Jaezred uncorks the bottle, sniffs it, and recoils. However, he sucks in a deep breath and takes a big swig, forcing himself to swallow.
“I am an incorrigible gossip hound,” he says in a hoarse voice, visibly fighting back the urge to retch as he half-grimaces, half-smiles.
Safire laughs at him. “Drink too tough for you, sailor?”
“Nonsense. I love paint thinner.”
In contrast, the rum in the flask is aged and tastes expensive: notes of cinnamon, toffee, and coconut, and it is strong. Taking a polite sip, Safire’s eyebrows raise in appreciation. She follows up by taking a not-so-polite sip.
“Right, plants. Well… where to start? First experience was in some guy’s basement. Can’t remember the chap’s name now, but he had a feeling someone was watching him down there. Me and this Baron Luxemforth checked it out, got the same vibe. There was this corner, we weren’t able to focus on it, just had an overall feeling of don’t look. Anyway, after much investigation it attacked us. We also worked out it could communicate in Primordial after Luxy tried talking to it. Of course, we beat it and it turns out it was just a bit of moss. Weird, right? Feeling went away pretty much straight after that.”
“Not as weird as you think. But what is the connection with roots?”
“I’m getting there. The second time, was at the behest of the guard. People had things stolen from them in the market, including a flower saleswoman who saw her shears being nicked by some sort of plant. When she followed them down an alley, she felt something grab her ankle, but she got away. When we checked it out, the plants attacked us, again. But this time we also met some odd druid with a big hat. Name was… Quill… I think. Said something about how they wanted to reclaim Port Ffirst, they lived in the sewers and had something that was gaining in strength. They disappeared and we told the guard and that was that. Well… until a few weeks ago…” Safire pauses for a second. “That reminds me. Quill mentioned something about the tree here? Mean anything to you?”
“That one?” Jaezred turns around at points at the massive tree in the Port Ffirst market whose canopy is just visible above the buildings. “Yes. So you see, there are two druid circles that dwell in the sewers underneath. They used to be one circle, but they split due to ideological differences. The circle that your Quill is part of is the radical one, the one that wants to rid civilization from this place and let nature take over. That tree sprouted unexpectedly when adventurers last confronted those druids.”
“Huh…” Safire says and fixes her eyes on the canopy. There’s a long pause as she stares at it, seemingly mulling over several ideas at once but settling on none.
She turns back to the drow. “The roots. Last time I had an encounter was only a few weeks ago. Some goblin had gone missing. The guard sent us to his house but… we couldn’t find it. Our eyes kept skimming over the address.” She looks Jaezred in the eye. “It was the same don’t look feeling. And when I forced myself to, it fucking hurt. So closing our eyes, we got into the house, and inside was covered with vines. It was so quiet but when we spoke, our voices were loud. We met another druid, I think. They were invisible at first and just wanted silence. So of course, inevitable fight and won. Then we went to the basement.”
Safire shudders and takes another large gulp from Jaezred’s flask. “The basement was covered in the same dark vines, but they were the size of my arms with massive thorns. Look!” She pulls out from her pocket a particularly large thorn that looks remarkably normal.
Jaezred takes the thorn from her and studies it, before muttering some arcane words to cast detect magic. Although the thorn appears to be entirely mundane, there is a seriousness in his eyes that assures Safire he is not dismissing her chilling account. He offers it back to her. “Safe to say that you have got questions.”
“Many, but let me finish. So we followed the vines, down this really dark corridor. Some used torches which the vines seemed to… recoil from. We reached this chamber and there was this massive mass of the vines, and the goblin was wrapped up in them. The vines, with those thorns holding them in place. Eyes forced open and everything. And their blood was being soaked up by the vines… roots… whatever! We got them out, and they had, like, no memory of being stuck there for two weeks. So yeah, that’s why I'm pruning the weeds.”
Safire leans back and seems visibly relieved at getting this all out.
Jaezred nods thoughtfully. “And who was this goblin? What do they do for a living?”
“Quinn… They’re a woodcarver.”
“A woodcarver? Hmm. Either just a poor soul randomly chosen for practice, or perhaps the druids didn’t like the way they treated wood.”
Safire side-eyes him. “So… As you seem like you’re a person in the know, what do you think?”
Jaezred turns his gaze out to the sea in front of them. The harbour has fallen quiet, the dock workers having left for a meal break, leaving the two of them alone. The only sounds are the distant cries of seagulls and the roar of waves as they crash upon the shore.
“You’re a sailor, aren’t you, Miss? You know there are people who, upon their lives, would never ever step foot on a boat, because they're afraid of how big, how incomprehensibly large the sea is?”
“Safire. Name is Safire. And less a sailor, more a pirate witch. But yes, I’m aware. The sea was always my calling. It’s where my magic comes from and where I feel most at home.” She looks at the drow curiously. “What's your point?”
Jaezred turns to look at her with a small, intrigued smirk on his lips. “Pirate witch, eh? Anyway, yes, you understand, Safire. And there are other irrational fears similar to that. Fear of being buried alive. Fear of being alone. Fear of the dark.”
A dark cloud passes overhead and casts his fine features in shadow as he continues. “Fear of something behind you, something you know is watching you, following you. You don’t know how you know, but you’re certain that it intends to hurt you. Your mind runs amok, imagining the worst possibilities, but you’re paralysed. You can’t make yourself to just look over your shoulder, because maybe it’s worse than you imagined. So your body tells you: Don’t. Look. This is the fear of Something Lurking.”
Safire leans back and her eyes narrow, trying to assess if that was a threat. Deciding that Jaezred probably wasn’t directing his statement at her, Safire looks back to the canopy of the tree. “This is the weirdest place! You know, last week I went to Kundar and saw a huge fucking mouth in the ground. Yet here I am more stressed out by foliage! So… what do we do about an enemy that lurks?”
“Oh, so you’ve also met its cousin, Something Hungry.”
Safire just blinks. “Why is this all so normal to you people?”
Jaezred laughs. “Here, every six months or so, some horrible thing threatens to destroy the world. It’s like clockwork.”
He glances back at the tree in the market. “So. We’ve known for a while that the radical sewer druids are planning revenge. We’ve known that the tree is important to their plans somehow. And now, thanks to you, we know that Something Lurking is the centrepiece. As to how to defeat it — I think you already know, Safire. Shine a torch to it and it retreats, yes? I’d wager that’s because Something Lurking hates the light, for it thrives in darkness, being unseen by its prey. It is a cowardly creature.”
“Great, consider me reassured,” Safire says, handing the flask back to him, not at all sounding reassured.
He smirks. “Why, is the fearsome pirate witch scared by a chickenshit little thing?”
“Well, every encounter seems to get worse and worse, so you know… there’s that. Suppose someone could just blow up the tree, right?”
“I suppose… We’ll have to wait and see. There’s just one question that still bothers me.”
“Me too. What’s your name?” Safire asks with a slight smirk. “Or shall I just call you Mr. Random Know-It-All Drow?”
“Hah. I am Lord Jaezred Vandree.” Grinning cheekily, he passes the bottle back to her. “And the question I keep asking in my mind is: why do the prettiest ladies in Port Ffirst have the worst taste in rum?”
“Maybe one day you can buy me a better one.” She stands up with a smirk and a wink.
“Is that a promise or a threat?”
“I’ll leave you to ponder that.”
“If you find out anything more, just ask around for me!” Jaezred calls out after her. He leans back against the bench and crosses his legs as he drinks the last of the rum in the flask. He stays a little longer to watch the churning waves, humming the tune of a sea shanty under his breath.
---
Safire can usually be found hanging around the various pubs around Port Ffirst, drinking, flirting, and just trying to have fun. However, today she isn’t in any boozer in town. She is instead sitting on a bench overlooking the harbour, a bottle of rum in hand.
As she sits and drinks, from the corner of her eye, she sees a dandelion growing between the cobblestones. She scowls. “Oh no you don’t! I see you!” And she casts lightning lure to rip the plant from the ground.
Catching it in her hand, she sighs, “Never get the bloody roots…” and throws the flower over her shoulder.
“So, this is what surface dwellers call ‘hay fever’?”
Safire turns her head, her long white static hair moving as if it has its own wind. Standing behind the bench is a tall drow gentleman, casually poking at the burnt remains of the flower with a black tapered fashion cane.
“I call it cultivation prevention.” She turns properly to look at the drow behind her, obviously giving him the up-and-down look. Taking in all his fine clothing, she raises an eyebrow before turning back to face the harbour.
“If you’re looking for passage, speak to the harbourmaster. I’m sure there’s a captain more than happy to overcharge you.” She smirks and takes a small swig from her bottle of rum.
“Oh, no. Why go out to sea when I’ve got a perfectly good view here?” The drow walks slowly around the other end of the bench and flashes Safire a charming smile.
Safire still smirks but eyes him suspiciously. “Charmer.”
He looks down at the spot on the cobbles where the dandelion grew, now marked by a circle of black ash. “I am wondering, why are you trying to prevent flowers from growing in this old dock?”
Following his gaze down to the black ash, she frowns. “I have had some… encounters with the local flora over the last few months. And I am very keen to not become their next victim.” She stops and chuckles to herself. “Nevermind me. Just a crazy, washed up pirate trying not to cause a panic.” She turns her gaze back to the sea and takes another large gulp from the rum.
“I don’t think you’re crazy. Not when there is gossip going all around town about the very same thing.” The drow sits down and procures from within his coat a metal flask, which he offers to Safire. “Tell me more about these deadly local flora.”
“Well, aren’t you a nosey chap.” Safire gladly takes the flask and offers her own rum in return.
Jaezred uncorks the bottle, sniffs it, and recoils. However, he sucks in a deep breath and takes a big swig, forcing himself to swallow.
“I am an incorrigible gossip hound,” he says in a hoarse voice, visibly fighting back the urge to retch as he half-grimaces, half-smiles.
Safire laughs at him. “Drink too tough for you, sailor?”
“Nonsense. I love paint thinner.”
In contrast, the rum in the flask is aged and tastes expensive: notes of cinnamon, toffee, and coconut, and it is strong. Taking a polite sip, Safire’s eyebrows raise in appreciation. She follows up by taking a not-so-polite sip.
“Right, plants. Well… where to start? First experience was in some guy’s basement. Can’t remember the chap’s name now, but he had a feeling someone was watching him down there. Me and this Baron Luxemforth checked it out, got the same vibe. There was this corner, we weren’t able to focus on it, just had an overall feeling of don’t look. Anyway, after much investigation it attacked us. We also worked out it could communicate in Primordial after Luxy tried talking to it. Of course, we beat it and it turns out it was just a bit of moss. Weird, right? Feeling went away pretty much straight after that.”
“Not as weird as you think. But what is the connection with roots?”
“I’m getting there. The second time, was at the behest of the guard. People had things stolen from them in the market, including a flower saleswoman who saw her shears being nicked by some sort of plant. When she followed them down an alley, she felt something grab her ankle, but she got away. When we checked it out, the plants attacked us, again. But this time we also met some odd druid with a big hat. Name was… Quill… I think. Said something about how they wanted to reclaim Port Ffirst, they lived in the sewers and had something that was gaining in strength. They disappeared and we told the guard and that was that. Well… until a few weeks ago…” Safire pauses for a second. “That reminds me. Quill mentioned something about the tree here? Mean anything to you?”
“That one?” Jaezred turns around at points at the massive tree in the Port Ffirst market whose canopy is just visible above the buildings. “Yes. So you see, there are two druid circles that dwell in the sewers underneath. They used to be one circle, but they split due to ideological differences. The circle that your Quill is part of is the radical one, the one that wants to rid civilization from this place and let nature take over. That tree sprouted unexpectedly when adventurers last confronted those druids.”
“Huh…” Safire says and fixes her eyes on the canopy. There’s a long pause as she stares at it, seemingly mulling over several ideas at once but settling on none.
She turns back to the drow. “The roots. Last time I had an encounter was only a few weeks ago. Some goblin had gone missing. The guard sent us to his house but… we couldn’t find it. Our eyes kept skimming over the address.” She looks Jaezred in the eye. “It was the same don’t look feeling. And when I forced myself to, it fucking hurt. So closing our eyes, we got into the house, and inside was covered with vines. It was so quiet but when we spoke, our voices were loud. We met another druid, I think. They were invisible at first and just wanted silence. So of course, inevitable fight and won. Then we went to the basement.”
Safire shudders and takes another large gulp from Jaezred’s flask. “The basement was covered in the same dark vines, but they were the size of my arms with massive thorns. Look!” She pulls out from her pocket a particularly large thorn that looks remarkably normal.
Jaezred takes the thorn from her and studies it, before muttering some arcane words to cast detect magic. Although the thorn appears to be entirely mundane, there is a seriousness in his eyes that assures Safire he is not dismissing her chilling account. He offers it back to her. “Safe to say that you have got questions.”
“Many, but let me finish. So we followed the vines, down this really dark corridor. Some used torches which the vines seemed to… recoil from. We reached this chamber and there was this massive mass of the vines, and the goblin was wrapped up in them. The vines, with those thorns holding them in place. Eyes forced open and everything. And their blood was being soaked up by the vines… roots… whatever! We got them out, and they had, like, no memory of being stuck there for two weeks. So yeah, that’s why I'm pruning the weeds.”
Safire leans back and seems visibly relieved at getting this all out.
Jaezred nods thoughtfully. “And who was this goblin? What do they do for a living?”
“Quinn… They’re a woodcarver.”
“A woodcarver? Hmm. Either just a poor soul randomly chosen for practice, or perhaps the druids didn’t like the way they treated wood.”
Safire side-eyes him. “So… As you seem like you’re a person in the know, what do you think?”
Jaezred turns his gaze out to the sea in front of them. The harbour has fallen quiet, the dock workers having left for a meal break, leaving the two of them alone. The only sounds are the distant cries of seagulls and the roar of waves as they crash upon the shore.
“You’re a sailor, aren’t you, Miss? You know there are people who, upon their lives, would never ever step foot on a boat, because they're afraid of how big, how incomprehensibly large the sea is?”
“Safire. Name is Safire. And less a sailor, more a pirate witch. But yes, I’m aware. The sea was always my calling. It’s where my magic comes from and where I feel most at home.” She looks at the drow curiously. “What's your point?”
Jaezred turns to look at her with a small, intrigued smirk on his lips. “Pirate witch, eh? Anyway, yes, you understand, Safire. And there are other irrational fears similar to that. Fear of being buried alive. Fear of being alone. Fear of the dark.”
A dark cloud passes overhead and casts his fine features in shadow as he continues. “Fear of something behind you, something you know is watching you, following you. You don’t know how you know, but you’re certain that it intends to hurt you. Your mind runs amok, imagining the worst possibilities, but you’re paralysed. You can’t make yourself to just look over your shoulder, because maybe it’s worse than you imagined. So your body tells you: Don’t. Look. This is the fear of Something Lurking.”
Safire leans back and her eyes narrow, trying to assess if that was a threat. Deciding that Jaezred probably wasn’t directing his statement at her, Safire looks back to the canopy of the tree. “This is the weirdest place! You know, last week I went to Kundar and saw a huge fucking mouth in the ground. Yet here I am more stressed out by foliage! So… what do we do about an enemy that lurks?”
“Oh, so you’ve also met its cousin, Something Hungry.”
Safire just blinks. “Why is this all so normal to you people?”
Jaezred laughs. “Here, every six months or so, some horrible thing threatens to destroy the world. It’s like clockwork.”
He glances back at the tree in the market. “So. We’ve known for a while that the radical sewer druids are planning revenge. We’ve known that the tree is important to their plans somehow. And now, thanks to you, we know that Something Lurking is the centrepiece. As to how to defeat it — I think you already know, Safire. Shine a torch to it and it retreats, yes? I’d wager that’s because Something Lurking hates the light, for it thrives in darkness, being unseen by its prey. It is a cowardly creature.”
“Great, consider me reassured,” Safire says, handing the flask back to him, not at all sounding reassured.
He smirks. “Why, is the fearsome pirate witch scared by a chickenshit little thing?”
“Well, every encounter seems to get worse and worse, so you know… there’s that. Suppose someone could just blow up the tree, right?”
“I suppose… We’ll have to wait and see. There’s just one question that still bothers me.”
“Me too. What’s your name?” Safire asks with a slight smirk. “Or shall I just call you Mr. Random Know-It-All Drow?”
“Hah. I am Lord Jaezred Vandree.” Grinning cheekily, he passes the bottle back to her. “And the question I keep asking in my mind is: why do the prettiest ladies in Port Ffirst have the worst taste in rum?”
“Maybe one day you can buy me a better one.” She stands up with a smirk and a wink.
“Is that a promise or a threat?”
“I’ll leave you to ponder that.”
“If you find out anything more, just ask around for me!” Jaezred calls out after her. He leans back against the bench and crosses his legs as he drinks the last of the rum in the flask. He stays a little longer to watch the churning waves, humming the tune of a sea shanty under his breath.