Case of the Still Missing Persons – Sheryl, the Fae-touched

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She hurt all over – her arms, back, sides, legs. The large, toothy lizards had done a number on her and Bubbles. Her beautiful fae wings were torn to shreds, her beautiful costume and armour practically ruined. Both her and the tiefling had been reckless going into the clearing like they did. Just plain stupid, really. She could hear Krux’s laugh in her mind, mocking her for her naivety.

At least the giant, vicious lizards hadn’t ruined her hands and she could still play her harp. Small favours.

Besides the pain and the damage to her pride, there was a sort of awe at the people she’s come to know and adventure with. After hearing that Mystogan had perished on the battlefront, Sheryl didn’t feel as bad for not staying in Kul’Goran. Maybe it was selfish of her to want to live. If this last adventure was any proof, she wouldn’t have survived a day, let alone an hour in the war torn country. Still, people like Mystogan inspired her to want to be braver, to be stronger.

Maybe she could be. She just needed some time to recover first.

She held Greebo the cat sorcerer closer to her, burying her face into his fur a little. He bore these comfort seeking cuddles with aplomb, closing his eyes in resigned acceptance. Sheryl looked around at her companions, her friends – Arkadius, Faye, Bubbles, and Rama. Greebo in her arms started to purr softly, though it was impossible to hear over the high winds that tore across these lands, but she felt the vibrations and they soothed her aching body with their own magic. She was thankful they were there for her. If they hadn’t been…

I would never see Her again.

It was a thought that brought a cold realisation trickling down between her broken wings. If the Lady found out just how close she had come to dying–

She would not be happy.

A plan was forming in her mind as the wind-surfer made its way across the lands of wind. A plan that would cost her some coin, but would be worth every penny. Her first step would be to repair her wings and armour. She had an image to uphold afterall. Then she would find a blade, one that could sing across the battlefields to the music she played. Milil himself had such a legendary weapon and legends are born from the “fairy tales” bards would sing.

I will find my own Blade of Songs. With it I will become stronger, more fearsome on the battlefield, just like Her. And nothing like what happened today will happen again.

Once she found her weapon she would train, learning the Songs of the Sword. The Mundane Folk like to use their actions over their wits to fight, so Sheryl had to adapt. A girl like her didn’t survive in the Fey Courts without learning a trick or two. There would be nothing that’d stop her from learning and gaining the skills she needed.