Fey Magic Appears

[lydamorehouse]

 Idriyl's conflicted loyalties continue!  Worse, he now knows he's on the barbarian's path of the wild magic, which basically turns him into a randomly generated FeyWild magic ball of rage.


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December 14

Eagle’s Fort, Kingdom of Shira

Dearest sister Ave,

I’m concerned that I may have sold out a comrade. 

For all my talk of the necessity of being wary around the Fey and not making promises or offers of trade lightly, I quite cavalierly and off-handedly suggested to a captured pixie that he might feel free to abscond with Zavala, Avandra’s Chosen One.  The speed at which a deal was struck was… breathtaking. I am hopeful that, since all of the pixies likely within earshot of that bargain are now dead, word of this promise has not yet traveled to the FeyWild.

Because bargains with the Fey must be kept. 

Yet, if anything untoward were to happen to Zavala, I might feel a tiny bit responsible. I might even feel guilty, especially as he and his extraordinarily capable adjutant, Theophenia, have saved my life countless times.

But, as always, I get ahead of myself.

After returning from our spy mission for Captain Philip and making our report, The Caravan and I found our way to one of the recommended inns, which was suggested to us by a soldier. Perhaps we should have considered the source more carefully, as we found ourselves in Eagle’s Fort’s red light district. Zavala was propositioned several times before we even reached the inn, The Green Feather. As I have said, Ave, he is a very comely and handsome man, and this port town is populated by a large number of sailors, if you get my drift.

While attempting to regroup and have a shockingly expensive drink at the inn, my elven ears picked up a strangely familiar sound, that of a pixie’s wings. After I pointed out the sound, the others were able to detect it as well. Our monk, Gregor, demonstrated a new technique that he must have been working on in secret on the road or perhaps was somehow bestowed upon him during his latest visit to his temple--a spectral hand appeared and, with it, he was able to swat the small faerie from the air. Once we had a decent sense of its location Bellamy peppered it with cold iron filings and its ability to stay invisible faltered. It attempted to flee, but I was able to grab it by the scruff. 

As you know, my sister, I am loath to lift a hand against the fair folk at the moment. There is still much about the Queen Below and her designs that I wish to better understand. This little pixie wore The Queen’s crest and so I did not attempt to wound it, only keep it firmly in my grip.

My comrades were less kind. The tiny creature I held down was battered within an inch of its life. All, I might add, without Theophenia spilling her drink.

When the pixie slipped unconscious, we thought of taking the pitiful wee creature to our rented rooms with the intention of gaining some more intelligence. The bouncers at the bar were very unhappy when magic was unleashed in their establishment, however. With some negotiation--which mostly consisted of Zavala ranting about how the walls of the city had been breached by FeyWild spies, we were allowed to retire upstairs so long as one of the bar security stayed with us. 

I have long wondered if any of my compatriots speak or understand any Sylvian, but I am quite certain now that they do not. For when the pixie asked how one of my kind could stand with “them,” I admitted that I didn’t know and that I might be playing both sides. 

Mother, however, is quite right about me. I am not particularly good at playing the spy. The Caravan was quite suspicious of the lengthy conversation that the pixie and I had when I was meant to be asking simple questions like, “What is your mission here?” I did discover that the pixie was sent to spy on me, for I wear the Queen’s love token, a ring the Caravan recovered in its very first mission through the sewers. I was offered a trade. The red jeweled ring for the Queen’s good graces and a seat at her table, among her court.

Ah, Ave, how I was tempted.

Instead, I joked that the pixie could have our Zavala, who was still  going on and on and on about the safety of the citizens of Eagle’s Point and how the Fey War was already upon us to the tavern’s bouncer. As I previously wrote, the pixie’s sudden, hungry agreement sent a cold shiver down my spine and lodged an icy spike of regret deep in my heart. This reaction cooled my willingness to hand over the ring. By this time, too, the party had grown fed up (and likely suspicious) of what to them was a long, extended, unintelligible conversation and took it upon themselves to bind up the pixie and toss him into a burlap sack. 

The monk took charge of the sack and we set off to the nearest guardhouse, with the intention of turning the pixie over to the proper authorities. 

We were almost instantly beset upon by pixies and their heavily armored spike gnomes. I had been considering how I might release the captive pixie and so my first act when the battle began was to wrest the sack from Gregor. Again, I was hesitant to take up arms against the Fair Folk and so offered a truce: their man for our freedom. They were uninterested, however. All around me my comrades were struck and injured. I waivered in my resolve until I was surrounded and so grievously wounded that I could no longer hold back the blind and thoughtless rage that consumes me in battle.

When next I came to, there was nothing but slaughtered fey folk laid low and bleeding out upon the cobblestones at my feet and… a cluster of fading, dancing lights--will-o-wisps, I presume--that seemed to have formed some kind of protective shield around me as I was lost to a mindless blood rage.

Even when I try not to enter the fight, something within me rises up when my life is threatened. Something Fey in me, Ave. As I have long suspected, the beast within me is not of this world, but of Theirs. How ironic then, my dear Ave, that the magic of the FeyWild now moves through my rage, allowing me to be a better, more deadly weapon with which to strike down my own Kin.  

It is now, with a heavy and conflicted heart, that I head to bed. I am planning first, however, to stop by Bellamy’s room to see if I can uncover where he hides the signet ring I saw him flash to Captain Philip. 

Wish me luck. 

Your brother,

Idriyl