Chatterbox: Inkwell

DnD Solo Write

The Prologue, starring Danie, Esthaenie, and Adelram:

The mist wound thick around the meadow as Danielle Amora picked her way across, cloak dragging through the dew-hung grass. Her boots were soaked through, toes clenched against the chill that drifted across the way.

Ahead of her, Adelram stalked through the fog, feathered arms clasped in reverence.

“This is as far as I shall take you. Be wary and wise, Amora.” The kenku’s beak clicked as he spoke, silhouetted by the light of the moon. His simple brown robe draped in billows over his shoulders. Danielle liked the man: he was quiet, and honest, much unlike most kenku. Adelram was an excellent monk and guide.

“Thank you, Adelram,” Danie said, wrapping her cloak more tightly around her middle. She winced at the tremor in her voice. Adelram nodded solemnly and began to leave when he paused.

“Ms. Amora,” he said, raven-like head bowed, “if I may… why are you here? There is naught here but a meadow, last I heard.”

Danie’s ears turned pink. “Do you know the Oracle of Verineth?”

The kenku shrank back. Danie regretted her words, wincing under her mask of calm. She was a fool to tell him.

“You spoke to the Oracle himself?” Adelram said, half-terrified and half-reverent. Danie’s eyebrows quirked at the hint of awe in his tone. She straightened.

“Yes, I did. And he said to come to this meadow, outside Graywing City.” Danie crossed her arms, but doubt ate at her all the same.

Adelram, however, looked satisfied. “The Oracle is wise, and trustworthy, despite being a filth--”

Adelram’s eyes widened. He put a hand to his beak. “Amora, I did not mean to speak in that way. I hope you understand.”

Danielle nodded. “I get it. And I know what he is. I’m not afraid of them.” Her voice went just a bit too high on the last word.

Adelram nodded, casting his eyes down. “Until we meet again.”

Danielle gave him a weak smile. “So long.”

He vanished into the mist without a sound. Danie shivered.

She walked forward, eyes scanning for trouble, ears pricked for the sound of pursuers. She was a rogue. Rogues prepared for the worst.

There were no footprints on the ground. The wet earth sucked at her feet as she walked, caking her boots and dragging her backward. She grumbled under her breath.

She dragged her boot along the ground until she came to a toadstool. It was green, like her cloak and hair, and almost blended into the grass but for the pulsing glow that came from within the bulbous top. It was a flight fungus.

She stopped in the meadow and screamed in irritation.

“A flight fungus?” she called, “I walk for miles to get to the city, pay 30 diamonds to hire a guide, and I get a flight fungus?”

She swooped down and plucked it, eyes blazing in blind irritation. Flight fungi were common around Verineth, and almost completely useless. One bite meant fifteen seconds of flight, and only fifteen. They couldn’t even be useful enough to give more than one bite, either. They crumbled to powder after the first nibble. Danie growled and crumpled the stalk in her hand. There went the last of her money until she bartered or stole for a meal. There went three days of walking. By the gods, she had had enough of Oracles.

A thunderclap drowned out her screaming. She tensed, waiting for rain, but it never fell. An electrical storm. Perfect. She looked up to the sky, daring the lightning to hit her. It would be preferable to her current existence.

A flash of golden lightning illuminated the woman in the clouds. Danie stopped shouting, suddenly sobered by the sight.

The woman hovered, violet dress billowing against the clouds, curls of red hair scattering across her back. Two ivory wings curved against her back as she levitated in the clouds.

An angel? Danie watched in awe as the woman’s eyes fluttered open for a moment, deep gray-green eyes glazed with lightning’s glow.

The woman began to fall.

Danie’s breath caught. The woman pitched backward and fell, unconscious, skirts twirling in dizzying whorls. The flight fungus grew heavy in her hand.

Danie took a bite from the fungus and felt it crumble in her hand. She stepped off the ground and began flailing, trying to make it to the falling woman. Thirteen seconds left.

She picked up some speed, wind battering her face, and swept in under the falling woman. Danie wrapped her arms around the tall woman and tried to slow the descent, breath wheezing through her lungs, grasping for oxygen. Seven seconds left.

Danie slowed in the air and readjusted her grip on the winged elf. The woman curled against her. A strained sigh escaped Danie’s lips. She was safe.

The woman’s eyes fluttered open, bleary in the mist. She blinked twice and let out a ragged cough.

Danie’s vision faded for a moment. In her mind, she saw the dark, gaunt face of the Oracle of Verineth, laughing, the third eye stitched to his forehead glowing with scarlet light. She shuddered.

She snapped out of her reverie when the gorgeous woman screamed and punched her in the face.