The Road Less Travelled
10
APR/21
Wink blinked the tears from her eyes as the silver serpent completed its circuit through her trembling hands, unsure exactly what she just seen reflected back to her upon the shimmering scales of the small snake. One thing was certain though: she and Niki were not to continue traveling with their new friends, nor were they to make the pilgrimage to the pyramid; their destinies were instead linked to the dark city of Raam.
The story she had seen written upon the snake’s scales was unlike anything she had ever witnessed, except for maybe the hallucinogenic visions that had plagued her dreams the night after the strange old lady’s snake had bitten her wrist… what was that, all of a week ago? Tiamat’s fury, how much had changed in seven days? Each of the silvery scales had told a different story and the images within were strangely distorted, akin to staring at your reflection in a murky, rippling pond or seeing yourself reflected back in an ancient, warped, and wavy mirror. But unlike looking into a mirror, Wink did not see herself staring back at her – at least not at first – she instead saw figures moving and acting, living and breathing, fighting and dying, inside each of the shiny scales.
One vision that stood out to her in particular was of a bearded dwarf, clad in metal armor that must have been worth more than the entire fortune of a noble family, standing in front of a huge white dragon. The dwarf assailed the beast with blasts of eldritch fire before being consumed by an explosion of freezing death from the creature’s fanged maw. Battered and frozen the dwarf staggered out of sight. Wink had gasped in terror and surprise at the realism of this vision, and was even more surprised when her audible gasp produced an actual cloud of icy condensation from her mouth; goosebumps breaking out on her skin as the air around her turned impossibly cold. Witnessing the probable last stand of this armored dwarf was astounding enough, but what stood out to her in this moment was the small bird that flew around above the battlefield, popping into and out of the frame of her vision now and again. While Wink was not familiar with this type of bird, it was an exact copy of the one that had landed upon Ixen’s shoulder earlier in the night. This can’t be a coincidence, can it? Wink had wondered, as the chill around her faded slowly away, but the goosebumps steadfastly remained.
The other scales told similar stories, typically tales the last stand of heroes and armies in the face of terrible draconic hordes. In these stories, cities burned, towers fell, oceans of water evaporated to steam, people died by the thousands, mouthing soundless screams as rivers of fire or ice or poisonous gas washed over them in horrifying waves. The visions were disturbing but captivating. In one vision, a man the size of the Gardiward manor house, with hair and beard of living fire that danced wildly and majestically against the backdrop of the night sky; wielding a sword of alabaster flame in one hand and a golden shield that glowed like the morning sun in the other, charged at the Dark Goddess herself, moving in slow motion against a background of wafting ash and smoke. Tiamat’s five heads all broke into rictus grins and moved in to engage with the fiery man with a raw, primal ferocity. Wink had watched this story in particular with rapt attention, unsure exactly as to what she was seeing, but knowing somehow that it was the most important story in the world. The fire-headed man fought valiantly, but was eventually ground down before the might of his enemy; the story ending with a giant clawed hand driving him to the ground and pinning him there, while an evilly grinning red dragon’s head moved into frame, stopping inches from the struggling man’s face. Only when this scene finally faded from view as the serpent slid forward in her hands to reveal the next chapter, did Wink realize what this story was: the last stand of the old gods…
She read the entirety of the stories that the scales showed her, as the serpent slithered through her small and delicate hands. She had cried until she had no more tears left to give throughout the ordeal, as each story was darker and direr than the one that preceded it. It seemed like she had lived and died a thousand times over what had seemed like a dozen years, but was actually closer to the hour or so it took for the small snake to complete its circuit through her hands. She felt cold and numb; her hands were still sitting on her lap as the small silver snake slid itself into the leather pouch on her hip that had been its home for the past week.
It hadn’t been until the very last scale, all the way towards the tip of the tail of the tiny snake that Wink finally seen herself reflected back in the patterns upon its back. She was a little older in this reflection; her hair was longer and there was a scar upon her cheek that was not evident upon her face now. Niki was there too – her heart raced at this realization – handsome as ever, but he was dressed now in a black cloak and ornately tooled leather armor, instead of the finery in the colors of House Gardiward that he normally wore. He had a blade in his hands and was demonstrating fighting stances to a group of children who varied greatly in age, each of whom mimicked the graceful arcs of his sword with varying levels of competence. Wink had been sitting at a table with a handful of other children and young adults, watching as they stitched clothing in the style and pattern of House Whithall. The clothes worked upon were of varying quality; some replicating the appearance of Whithall nobility, others the color and style of their guards and servants and slaves. Hanging neatly from racks nearby were similar outfits from the two of the other noble houses: Augustbow and Knapmer. While she did not know what this meant exactly, she did have a rough idea…
After recuperating from the ordeal of the snakereading, Wink sat cross-legged upon the cold, hard floor of the hideout and looked down at the pile of treasure that she had amassed in the past week with a look of wonder: a metal shackle pin and an ancient metal lock; a silver goblet and silverware knicked from Sardini’s table; a bejeweled golden bracer that was imbued with magic to allow the wearer to appear as something else; a resplendent robe, stitched with thread of spun gold; a small mound of ceramic coins topped with the strange metal coin that she had knicked off of the devil in the purple armor. That coin was the crown jewel of her collection, as she had stared daggers directly at the man as she ran into him, her foul expression providing the very distraction she needed to lift his coin purse from his hip while he was preoccupied with her dire visage. The man had looked confused, and then angry, both at the collision and at her wicked countenance, but he was so taken aback at the ferocity of her expression that he did not notice the lift. The coin she had knicked was nearly white in color, resembling silver or white gold, but somehow more vibrant in density and hue, and it was inlaid with markings and pictures that she did not recognize. She wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but she knew that it was insanely valuable. Plus, she hoped that this purple shit would really miss this coin when he realized it was gone, and that made her smile a bit. She did not know this man, but Niki hated him, and that was good enough for her.
The man in purple had shown up with Pakku the night before, alongside a group of warriors that had descended from the sky astride resplendent winged horses, looking just like heroes of legend. Her heart had jumped for joy when she saw Pakku coming to their rescue in their battle against the strange snakeman and his minions, and Pakku had brought reinforcements along with him. She had heard tale of his stories about his time in the desert, and knew that he had traveled with some powerful and important people, though she knew little else about them. She knew that he had suffered hardship and loss on their way to the Black City, and she had not pressed him any further – he was hesitant enough to talk at all in the first place, and she sensed that if he was pushed he would close down entirely. It did not take Wink long to realize that these must have been his desert traveling companions; and what companions they were!
One of the men, shirtless and rugged, skin burned bronze by the summer sun, dove off his winged horse and landed on the ground, dropping into a perfect roll and rising effortlessly to his feet in the midst of the fray. Wink’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of this man; his grace and bravery were otherworldly. The figure spun an alabaster staff before him in wide, graceful arcs and a wall of fire erupted from the ground before him, engulfing a mass of cultists in a sheet of ravenous flames. A second man landed his horse upon the ground, sliding off the side of the beast and striding fearlessly into the thick of the battle. This one had the look of a city dweller, standing out in stark contrast to the wild, swarthy appearance of the other man. Though this one had two steel swords strapped across his back – the value of the blades Wink could not even begin to comprehend – he did not draw these weapons, instead he manifested a blade of crackling energy in one hand as he strode confidently into the mob. With a lazy flick of his other hand, this man threw a group of cultists in front of him flying into the air; sending them hurtling and screaming into the wall of fire his companion had created moments earlier. These cultists howled in agony, rushing from the ravenous flames that feasted mindlessly upon them, before finally collapsing under the immense weight of the inevitability of death.
Wink stopped and stared in amazement at this display of raw power and courage of these two men, forgetting for a moment about her mission to free Sandini from the flames that threatened to end his wretched life. Thankfully Niki had materialized from behind the pyre and began working on freeing the man. Then she saw the man in purple, high up in the sky still astride his winged steed as he circled around the battlefield. After he completed a circuit around the chaotic scene, the man simply stepped off of the back of his horse and glided to the ground with the aid of giant black wings growing out of his back, as a steel sword wreathed in eerie green flames formed in his outstretched hand. What kind of creature was this? Wink had never seen anything like him in her life: a wild, braided beard poked out from under a hood that looked to be of a hyena’s face; his purple armor was inlayed with bone reinforcements which made his appearance look all the more feral and imposing; as his expensive, crimson silk clothing danced wildly in the nighttime wind. Despite the wicked fiery blade in his hand, he also did not use it to attack the cultists; instead, his eyes flashed like a lightning storm as he sent crackling psionic energy into the mobs, leaving them writhing in pain and confusion. Who were these people?
The rest of the battle had been a chaotic mess. Arnia and Ixen had tried their best to keep Sabrina alive and intact, but the noblewoman’s haughtiness was only matched by her bravery, and that made this a nearly impossible task. Pakku and his fellow guardsman, bolstered by his companions from the desert, burned through the insurgents like fire through dry grass, and finally, after a long arduous battle, the so-called “Savior of Raam” was driven down before them.
There hadn’t been time so celebrate this victory as Niki, with an anguished cry, drove his dagger into the back of the purple clad devil. The strange man disappeared in a flash and re-materialized in mid-air above the fray and blasted Niki with a wave of psionic energy. Niki and Wink were linked by the golden bracers they each wore which allowed them to feel and share each other’s pain, but the agony from the winged man’s mental assault paled in comparison to the anguish Niki felt at the mere presence of this man. Niki hadn’t spoken much about his life before coming to Raam, but Wink had suspected that his exodus from Balic had been brought about by hardship and necessity, and this seemed to prove her suspicion. Fortunately Pakku was able to stop any further bloodshed, as he and his shirtless companion from the desert called for peace. Wink didn’t need her magical bracelet to feel the pain and rage that her friend felt, and knew in her heart that this would not be the end of things between these two men.
Wink was still sitting and looking at her mass of treasure when a small shadow was cast over her, rousing her from her distracted recollections of the previous couple of days. Nihl looked down at her, his eyes red and streaks of faded tears upon his cheeks.
“Are you going to da outpost with da others, Wink?” he asked in a soft voice. “They say I am too liddle to go this time.”
“Of course not, silly. I’m staying right here.” She patted the ground beside her, and Nihl bounded to her side, plopping down and melting into her. “I’m glad you aren’t going, Nihl. I need you to help me keep the other kids safe.” She tousled his hair with her hand and flashed him a reassuring smile, before resting her head gently atop his.
Nihl noticed the pile of treasure sitting in front of her for the first time, and he reached forward and grabbed the magical jeweled bracer. “Wow, Wink. You’re rich!”
“We are rich, Nihl. This is all of ours.”
“What are you…we…going to do with all of this?” the boy asked; his eyes wide with wonder.
Wink thought for a moment, though she knew what the answer was: Toad had laid it out for her in meticulous detail all those years ago, when the two of them lain atop that rooftop and stared up at the moon, a little drunk on some plum wine that Toad had knicked from the market square. The noble houses were finally beginning to restore a semblance of order within the city, so things would hopefully be returning to normal soon, and she now had enough treasure to buy that manor house in the center of town that Toad had always dreamed of. Niki had brought so many refugees down to the sewers for safety, and many of them were too young or too frail to make the journey to the pyramid, so they would have to remain behind, and there were bound to be some good knickers and choppers in this group. Toad’s plan could finally happen, only a few years behind schedule, and without Toad at the helm.
Instead of answering his question, Wink instead pulled a weathered deck of cards from her pouch and showed them to Nihl. “Want to play a game?”
The boy smiled widely and nodded his head emphatically, dropping the jeweled bracer to the ground with a clang.
“This game is called ‘Red Card.’ See this card, this is the Knave. Now watch my hands.”
As she effortlessly made the red card dance through the deck to Nihl’s delight and amazement, Wink began to plot their next moves: gather up some more children to train to fight and knick; buy a manor house where they all could live in peace; and finally, tear down the other noble houses. But first, she needed to find out if Toad still lived and if so he needed to be freed from House Whithall. And if not, he needed to be avenged.
“Here, you try,” she said, handing the battered deck of cards to Nihl, who accepted them with reverence. Wink watched as he clumsily tried to mimic her previous graceful movements and she smiled encouragingly at him, but her mind was elsewhere. She was thinking of the last step of her plan: tear down the other noble houses. And she knew just which one to start with…
GM + arcanjl + wrinkk01 + Schroedergs + jordin_frey + AJCole + zacharytheshouse + ggh1981
In case it wasn’t clear, Wink stole the platinum piece from Vashir. Though he needs it a lot more than she does, I think this is a fitting end to her story and gets her one step closer to enacting Toad’s vision of creating a thieve’s guild full of urchin pickpockets and enforcers. She would call their little thieve’s guild ‘The Toadstools’