| Player Name | Laura |
|---|---|
| Languages | Common |
| Affiliations | AFEW |
| Species | Half-Elf |
| Gender | Female |
This is all that Red knew for sure[edit | edit source]
She was found within Xender City limits, a tiny half-elf child. At various times the story was that she’d been found abandoned in an alley – or offered for sale by a desperate woman with too many mouths to feed,or maybe a secret to hide – still other times exchanged for services rendered, or offered for sale as a servant, or left behind by a traveling circus. Tut rescued, bought, was paid to take her — he called the child Ruby and added her to his small family of thieves. Some chuckled and said she was probably just one of the mercenary’s get, and he spun the other stories because, well, Tut liked to spin stories.
The others did, too. ‘Mander said Red must be the secret heir of the Drowned City of Ginstadt (whatever the hell that was); Clay loved to tell the story of how she was found in a garbage heap behind the Wobbly Wyvern, filthy and feral, clutching a week-old dead rat. Blue-eyed Buckle said she was a changeling, traded at birth by the fae and left in the night deposit with a copper coin and two sea-grey seashells. (This was Red’s favorite.)
Existence was spare in the Roost but happy and satisfying. Tut told his tales and provided for his small gang, Red’s only family. Who cared who she had been, where she came from – she preferred to live in the now.
A rare and valuable artifact[edit | edit source]
A prosperous local merchant had come by a rare and valuable artifact and sold it to one of Xender City’s richest families, whose mansion lay near the center of the city.
A gentleman was willing to pay Tut quite a bit of money to obtain it, secretly, no questions asked.
The job was just the kind that Tut liked. He planned for weeks to switch the object with an indistinguishable fake; deliver it to the night deposit, one of the city’s many cubbies where unwanted babies were left to their fates; and, with luck, the fake – and the thieves – would never be discovered. It was risky, of course, and it would be wise for the thieves to leave the city afterward, for a long while, or forever – if caught they’d be executed, or worse. No matter: The obscene fee made Tut’s emerald eyes glitter. It was a sum to make them all safely comfortable, elsewhere, for years.
And, he reasoned, 'twould be the safest of jobs, no need to take unnecessary risks. They’d carefully infiltrate the mansion, learn all they could, and identify the best, safest opportunity to make the switch without being detected. Red and Mander would apply for employ as mansion servants, gathering information. Clay would be the eyes and ears, and Buckle the go-between. Tut, of course, played mastermind (his favorite role).
Two months later, the family held a huge, ostentatious event at the end of which they displayed the object – a priceless sculpture made of rare moonstone – in the mansion’s connected, public museum. After the common folk had their fill of gawking at the family’s wealth, the item would be taken away and stored in a secret, secured vault.
Ruby, gardener’s assistant, and Sala, kitchen worker, were now blended into the background of the mansion’s everyday lives. They memorized every detail of their surroundings and passed the information to Buckle, who shared it with the others as the plan started to come together. Tut received the indistinguishable fake, and set the date for Clay and Buckle to make the exchange. Red and 'Mander would go about their work and some days after the deed was done, quietly resign.
One late night, a week before the switch was to be made, Red opened the gate to enter the gardens. The family’s prized moonflower bushes, which she had come to love, could only be pruned under the full moon.
Her elven sight picked out familiar details of wet topiary and night-blossoms – and a man’s figure, outlined by moonlight. Buckle stood motionless in the gloom, an unreadable expression in his dark eyes, a plucked, glimmering blossom in his palm.
We’ve been betrayed. His voice came breathy and thick. They’re all dead. She saw the blood on his face, his clothes, as he thrust her backwards through the open gate and slammed it closed between them. The locking bars fell into place. She clutched at his fingers as he fell against the bars, and he pressed a cold, hard object into her hand — a moonflower made of white stone. Shouts from the conservatory behind him; dark figures emerging from the entrance; the silver gleam of drawn swords. He desperately urged her to run, go, now. Please, Ruby.
She ran.
Red's story[edit | edit source]
I looked around, trying not to look like I was looking around.
Across the courtyard, I spied a wooden wagon, loading up with several individuals who were very…individual. One of them was large, and extremely hairy – or maybe he was wearing a fur cloak. The other, even from this distance, had a closed expression and bearing that suggested he would not be asking any personal questions. Fine by me. The wagon looked to be in decent shape, at least decent enough to make it to another town that was not this one, and without looking back I walked with purpose over the dusty, flat space.
No cry of alarm behind me, but that might not last. As I walked through the milling crowd, I pulled my hood over my head to hide my scarlet hair. No sudden movements, nothing to catch the eye. My heart was racing. The babble of a market-day washed over me, surrounded me.
As I approached, one of the horses snorted, a welcoming, fluffing sound, one I have always loved. I smiled, and reached out to gently cup my open hand over his nose, feeling his warm breath and whiskers against my palm.
“You like horses?”
“I do,” I said, cautiously, as I stroked the horse’s neck and long, coarse mane. I glanced sideways at the wagon driver.
He wore a short duster and heavy canvas pants, his sandy hair topped by a wide-brimmed hat. Bright blue eyes looked me up and down, but not in a salacious way – he was evaluating the fare. I silently blessed my drab-but-serviceable (and not too clean) shirt, vest and pants. My shoes looked worn – with holes that I had strategically made myself. Over all, I wore a dusty wool cloak of indeterminate color.
“Need a ride someplace?” he asked, but I knew he knew the answer. I got a sense from him – he might be someone to trust.
“Don’t we all?” I said. Even so, trust doesn't come easily to me.
“Some more than others,” he replied.
I fiddled with the horse’s halter. “I’ve an average need,” I said, not wanting to tip him off to my thin purse. “Where are you headed?” I asked, casually. I didn’t care where as long as he was leaving very, very soon.
He turned away and grabbed the cart rail with both hands, ready to climb to his perch behind the horses. “Goin’ to Galik,” he said. “There’s room for one more. Fare’s negotiable but we’re leaving now so you’d best decide."
Galik. Where was that? Had I heard of it? Somewhere in the murky depths was a blurry memory of drinking with a talkative robed fellow, about...temples? A temple? Something to do with rain, maybe a fountain, maybe one of those bath houses I'd heard rumors of? I couldn't think of who the water gods were. Religion: Not my area of expertise...or interest.
"It's a distance and I need to make it before my wife's birthday," he added, then smiled at me.
I smiled back. "I guess I will, then. I like to travel. Always wanted to go to Galik. Take in the sights, see the temple, pay my respects." I winced inwardly at my rambling. Keep a lie simple.
He didn't bat an eye, but looked pointedly at my lack of encumbrances. “Luggage?”
Uh oh. "None worth taking," I admitted, sure he was on to me. Bring him into your confidence. "Guess I'll tell you – I'm not planning on coming back here." I waited, watching his face, for him to decide to turn me away. As the moments ticked away I struggled not to glance back across the marketplace. Come on, come on.
As he smiled again, the blue of his eyes seemed to deepen. The feeling of trust strengthened, and I suddenly desperately wanted to just tell him everything. Instead I leaned in, and said softly, "You know how it is."
He chuckled. “Oh, I do," he said, "I do." He turned away, hoisted himself up into his seat, got comfortable, and readied the reins. "Well, you’re welcome to join us," he said, "though maybe I guess it depends on how you feel about bugbears."
I smiled my thanks and hid my glee. The horses snorted again, eager to be off, and I walked quickly around them, out of view of the rest of the courtyard, to reach the open back of the wagon. I nodded to my fellow passengers – the closed fellow, who, surprisingly, smiled; and, as advertised, a bugbear, who grunted, amiably – and I hoisted myself over the edge and into a sitting position, knees drawn up. I'd have to find out more about Galik on the road, but it seemed there'd be time for conversation. I pulled my cloak snugly around me, settling in on a sack that may have been filled with walnuts.
Only then did I venture another glance toward the opposite end of the courtyard. Several similarly dressed, officious-looking figures in a familiar shade of burgundy were talking with the shopkeeper I’d left behind. He gestured animatedly, waving the wanted notice in his hand, removed from the post where it had so recently been nailed. From this distance, I couldn't see it but I knew what it was: A detailed rendering of a half-elf with pale grey-green eyes and long, shockingly bright red hair. For those who could read, the words were: "WANTED. Alive. For Theft and Murder. Information? Contact: Xender City constable (no questions asked)."
I pulled my hood further down over my forehead. A whistle, another snort, and the horses stepped forward.
Hurry, hurry, I thought, willing the cart away – to Galik, to the temple, to the moon for that matter. Anywhere far, far away from here.
By the light of the silvery Moon...[edit | edit source]
She sat on the edge of the old, decaying dock. Her bare toes barely touched the surface of the lake, now cold and hard and frozen, surrounded by the dark, dense Osugbo forest. The full moon above reflected off the ice, in her pale eyes, on the objects she held in her hands, resting on her thighs.
In one open palm, too perfect to be real, the moonflower seemed almost made of ice itself, its alabaster petals glistening with the evening’s growing mist and moonlight. In the other, she held an unfolded piece of dirty and torn parchment, her own poorly drawn face staring back at her out of what now seemed like the ancient past.
She lifted the flower and pressed it to her lips, then held the open blossom against her cheek for a long time, closing her eyes. Her breath, visible; her thoughts, invisible.
She opened her eyes again on the parchment, and closing her fingers, crushed it in her fist. As she got to her feet she let the crumpled-up ball fall to the ice. Holding the stone flower gently in her other hand, she walked back through the trees to the bugbears' village, and to her friends, under the moon's watchful gaze.
It's time to run toward something, instead of away.
More...[edit | edit source]
- Visions Red received while under abyssal energies reveal that her father provides the elven blood in her veins.
