#priestoftheshadows

@priestoftheshadows

Cursing loudly as she tore through the inn, heading for the staircase leading to the Warden’s quarters, running as fast as her long legs could carry her. She barrelled into the makeshift communal area, shutting the door as quickly as she could and vaulted over the table before wedging herself under it with little consideration for anyone else inside the room. 

Her heart beating wildly, she briefly peered out to check the coast was clear and locked gaze with a tall man pouring himself a dark liquid which smelled distinctly like coffee. It appeared that he was the only other occupant of the room, clearly puzzled by her entrance and perhaps shocked into silence by her bizarre display. Giving him a cheeky grin, she put a finger to her lips in a ‘shh’ing motion.

“I’m not here!” She told him in a whisper, ducking her heard again.

Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by the door swinging open to reveal a furious man swearing and demanding the whereabouts of that ‘vulgar beast of a woman’. Jai bit her lips to hold in the giggles threatening to spill out and prayed the man wouldn’t sell her out.

@priestoftheshadows

It was barely daybreak and the port was a hive of activity, the sounds of traders loading and unloading their goods, sailors readying their ships for sail and fishermen hauling crates of fresh fish whilst the waves gently lapped against the inner harbour walls. Gulls cawed overhead, circling the fishing boats for scraps thrown overboard. 

Liss sauntered through the early morning crowd, her eyes fixed on the ship at the end of the jetty that she had been assured was the one she sought. Her travelling cloak wrapped tightly around her, as if it could protect her from the stench of rotting fish and pipe smoke that seemed to hang in the air, she quickened her pace. As she reached the ship, she felt a growing sense of dread in the pit of her stomach at the sight of it rocking in the calm waters. Checking the flowing script on the side of the ship, ‘The Mermaid’s Secret’ still legible despite the chipped and weathered paint, she was equally relieved and disturbed. She watched for a moment as the crew loaded the remaining few crates into the hold, no doubt supplies for the voyage, and steeled herself. She was a powerful Elemental Mage and the water was no threat to her. At least, that was what she kept telling herself.

Swallowing the rising panic with stubborn grit, she stepped toward the woman she assumed was Captain from her commanding stance and extended her hand in greeting.

“Captain.” She said, projecting confidence she did not have, “Lisselá De Sauveterre, of the Wardens. I understand you are expecting me.”

“Aye lass,” The Captain confirmed with a crooked smile, “Yer luggage is in your cabin. Don’t know what you need so much for, mind. Climb aboard, your companion’s already here.”

Liss gave her a tight smile and murmured her thanks, trying not to show her displeasure at being referred to as a ‘lass’. Ascending the gangway, hands desperately clutching the rope railing as she climbed, she spared a forlorn look at the land behind her and once more questioned her sanity for willingly boarding a sea vessel. 

She stepped onto the deck with a heavy sigh, going a little green around the gills as she felt it swaying beneath her feet, and felt her heart sink further as she spotted her Warden companion. He seemed completely at ease, almost happy to be on the wretched thing, and she could feel a headache surfacing at the prospect of spending weeks with the insufferable man. 

 “Priest.” Liss gritted out with a terse nod of her head.

The inn still stood, but a piece of it had been lost. No, not just the portion of the roof that was now covered in several hastily-nailed pieces of wood. Where there had once been dancing, singing, and merriment there was now a hush over the townspeople. Once they drank for enjoyment, now they drank to forget those bloodied bodies of their loved ones who had filled the cemetery so quickly that the gravedigger worked overtime.

One of the bards picked up his lute and sought to break the silence with a song, something along the lines of “we’re all still alive and hey, might as well drink to that.” A few patrons swayed to the music, but most still bored the hollowed and reddened eyes of mourning and drunkenness. It would take more than one song to heal a town.

Soren stared into the bottom of his mug of mead, seeing a tired mage staring back at him. The past few days had been hellish, from the cleaning up to the countless townspeople begging him to give them more information. Even now he felt their stares. They looked to him for guidance, as he was both a Warden and a Mage, but thirty years of training couldn’t turn an arrogant man into a counselor. He turned to the Warden beside him. “It’s terribly depressing in here,” he said. “These people should be happy their inn is still standing and a Rift hasn’t swallowed their entire town. And if only I had enough coin on my person to silence that insufferable bard...”