Intermission 4 The Ballad of Lucky and Lizbet 28/12/24

Intermission 4 28/12/24
 
As the deal is sealed with Aunty Mora - her wrinkled smile twisted in satisfaction - you feel a strange chill crawl over your skin. The faintest whisper echoes in your mind, words you can’t quite understand but that leave you uneasy.
 
Holfast Riverthorn, under the sway of your Suggestion, dutifully steps forward to take on the work promised in your place. The old lady bends her crooked fingers beckon him closer, and without hesitation, he begins his ‘day’s labour.’ At first, it seems mundane enough—fixing tools, gathering herbs, tending to the garden. You breathe a sigh of relief, knowing you’ve traded well.
 
As the deal takes hold, a strange sensation courses through your body, like icy needles threading through your veins. Your hands twitch involuntarily, and your fingers begin to move with a precision that feels alien yet instinctive. You watch, bewildered, as your mind fills with knowledge you didn’t possess a moment ago - complex tumblers, hidden catches, the subtle resistance of a lock’s mechanism beneath your fingertips.
 
It’s as though years of practice have been crammed into an instant. Your fingers itch to hold a set of tools, and even though you’ve never touched them before, you know the weight of the picks, the feel of the tension wrench, the faint click of a lock surrendering to your skill.
 
There’s a strange disconnect, a feeling of both mastery and disorientation. The knowledge doesn’t come with memories or experience - it’s just there, fully formed, like a puzzle you’ve already solved. Yet somewhere in the back of your mind, you can’t shake the feeling that the cost of this gift is still unfolding, like a lock with too many tumblers.
 
Leaving Holfast to his days work until he can finish when he sees sunset, you go in search of Lizbet, and after a bit of asking around, she is found in the marketplace, tending to a caravan - infusing lamps with light ready for the evenings travel for Alara Brightwater, the stall owner of Brightwater Textiles, a subsidiary of House Skatterhawk.
She is there explaining to Alara that she'll keep the lamps infused while it heads east, but they'll likely not work beyond their next stop.
 
Lucky waits until Lizbet is alone, "Are you Lizbet Holfast?" he asks in his best dwarven accent
Changing back to his own voice, "Lizbet my love, it's me, Lucky. I'm in disguise. We escaped from the War Wizards. I'm on the run at the moment. But I came back for you. We're going to Waymoot and then we're heading up to fight the Harbingers. The War Wizards have really scuppered our plans here in Minroe, but we have to keep fighting the Harbingers. Lizbet, I love you with all of my heart. I can't bear to be parted from you. Won't you come with me and share my adventures, my beloved? I've got 2 horses for us and I'll get us some supplies to get to meet up with the rest of the Guardians in Waymoot. Oh, Lizbet, please say you'll come away with me. It will be so amazing, us two on the road together, singing songs and having fun."
 
“Lucky? Is that... what in the Nine Hells are you doing here?”
 
She sighs, brushing her hair out of her face and whispering so that Alara nearby cannot hear; “If you want me this badly in your life, you’ve got to prove it’s not just a temporary thing. You ran the first time, and you're running again, with fair cause this time to be true."
 
“Lucky, I swear, you’re like a whirlwind—blowing in out of nowhere, causing chaos, and expecting everyone to just follow you. Do you ever stop to think how other people feel?”
She sets her tools down and crosses her arms, her expression shifting from frustration to something more vulnerable.
 
“I died, Lucky. I died. And not once have you stopped to ask me how that felt. Do you even care about what that’s done to me? Or are you too busy charming your way into the next adventure?"
She gestures to the half-finished project in front of her. “You’ve always had this way of making life more complicated, but I can’t say it’s boring. And… maybe part of me missed that.”
Her tone softens, though her stance remains firm.
 
“But don’t think for a second I’m dropping everything for you. I have a job, Lucky - a real job. My father might have got me the introduction, but I've got to work to make it with Skatterhawk, I’ve got a caravan to prepare for them, and I can’t just abandon it because you decided to waltz in. You may not see eye to eye with dad, but he cares for me, wants the best for me, and maybe that's not always the same things I want in life." She pauses to take a breath.
“The caravan’s heading toward Waymoot anyway. I’ll join you, but only because it fits into my plans too. Don’t mistake this for me running off into the sunset with you, Lucky - I’ve got work to do, and I can explain to Dad that I need to check on the infusions" she taps on the glass domes attached to the large wagon filled with wool and cloth."
She turns and moves over to Alara; "Alara - I tell you what, I'll head to Waymoot and maybe manage something more permanent there, you can send my pay to my Dad, and while you're there, let him know I'll be back in a few days."
 
Lucky takes Lizbet by the hands and pulls her gently away from Alara. He gazes lovingly into her eyes like the lovesick teenager that he is, "My love, I know that dying must have been terrible. I didn't ask because I was scared of the answer. I brought you back to life because I love you so much. So deeply. I had to do a deal to do it and I'm afraid of what that deal might entail. I only care about you. If you ask me we'll run away together. We can go anywhere you want. Suzail or further away. The Sword Coast or Calimshan, Lurien even. I don't care as long as we are together. But, what we're doing is really important. We have to fight the Harbingers to stop their evil Queen escaping from her prison. If she does that it will be bad for all of the lands. I'll join your caravan as a guard and we can plan our next steps from there."
 
“It wasn’t just pain, Lucky. It was cold, dark, and endless. And then there was… something, I felt such agony, such sorrow. A shadow. A voice I couldn’t make out. And suddenly, I was here again. Back in this world, but not entirely the same. It’s like I left a part of myself behind, that somehow the sorrow held a part of me and tore it off as it wrenched me back to the world."
Lizbet takes a deep breath, her gaze softening as she steps closer to Lucky. There’s still a spark of irritation in her voice, but her affection shines through.
“You’re lucky I’ve got a soft spot for charming idiots.”
She smirks faintly, shaking her head.
“I can’t just run away, Lucky. I’ve got a caravan to finish prepping, and Skatterhawk would have my hide if I abandoned it. But…”
She looks up at him, her voice quieter now.
“If you’re serious about this, then you’ll stick around. You’ll join the caravan like you said, and we’ll figure it out together. But no more running off. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it properly.”
 
While you sell the horse, she finishes the preparations on the wagon, and it makes its way to Waymoot, a good 50-60 miles, and a long 10-12 hour journey.
 
The horse is a fully trained War Horse - the farrier in Minroe gives Lucky 200GP for it.
 
At least one of the guards seems to note your interest in Lizbet, and at one point of the road, tells you, "Hrast! Old fella - she's a bit young for yer - her dad got contacts, we all rivvem but that ones off limits"
 
"Don't worry, mate. We aren't brightbirds. I'm a friend of the family. I know old Holfast from way back. Saved his life back in '75. Just looking out for the girl is all. Haularake! I'll have words with the farruking scorchkettle who spreads that kind of clack about the young lady.”
 
"You know, word is, she was rung up by her fancylad as a coinlass and did a runner, and now Holfast got a number on him, goes by Lucky, got picked up by the warwiz anyhew, apparently a conspirator against the crown or summin'! Poor lass was probably getting used by the bastard, looking for an in with Skatterhawk mebbes"
 
Lucky bites his tongue adds the guards name to his list and turns away muttering, "Yeah, probably. Hurmph."