Wendy's Story

This is the way the world ends Not with a bang but with a whimper. "The Hollow Men" T. S. Eliot.

Canto residence: December 15th, 4710 AR





The winter's chill came into the building like a bus unloading a herd of children, a rush of energy finding its way in through cracks of windows, and ageing insolation. As the chill found it’s doorway, it invited its friends inside, and soon the breeze, while perhaps not the full force of it, had made its way inside the building, and began to dance around the bedchambers of one, tired, ageing, Venerable, and currently sleeping, half-orc. The chill began bouncing up and down upon his sheets, some of it finding its way under, and tickling at his exposed skin. The orc grunted, clearly wishing to go back to sleep, however the chill was nothing if not persistent, and, with perhaps a great deal of effort, the orc opened his eyes,and stood up out of bed.

The first thing he saw was the ceiling of his bedchamber. Old and soggy. In dire need of repairs. But repairs required money, and failing that, required he be able to reach them with his palms.Pepehel had been reminding him to get it fixed, but the old half-orc was nothing if not stubborn, and keenly sat up, out of his bed, as his morning slippers magically moved on their own to find his feet. With another great effort, the wised orc pulled himself upon off the bed, just as his bedroom door swung open for him. He walked through, and found himself in what amounted to the main room of his house, a small, but cozy room, with a old pillowed couch directly to his left, a study desk beyond that, and on his right, what amounted to a kitchen, with pantry, countertop, and stove.

Upon it, sat a tea kettle. It was a recent invention, that of the stove, but it was a significant one. The ageing orc sat down upon his throne of pillows, and, with but a flick of his finger, caused a tiny surge of flame to spring forth from his palm, lighting the charcoal and propellant under the kettle, causing it to burst into a modest, but still quite hot flame. With another gesture, one of the countertop drawers was opened, and a tea bag floated out. Finally, a miniature raincloud appeared over the kettle, and poured a fair bit of water, though not too much, into the kettle, as the tea began to steep.

Next to awaken was an elf. He wore long, blue pajamas, over his young, pale skin, his green eyes accenting his bedhead hairstyle. He was fairly tall, though short by elven standards, he stood about 6 feet tall in total.And although he was about three times Aquor’s senior, Pepehel held with him a fair bit of youthful vigor. Upon his neck he threw his holy symbol, that of a bow nocking an arrow. The elf strolled into the room, also clearly half asleep, his head turning towards the boiling teapot, and a smile crossed his face. Sitting down opposite the orc, the simply looked forward, but not at anything in particular. Perhaps he was lost in thought about the true nature of the universe. Or perhaps he was simply tired.

Their, the two men sat, for a moment or two, until the orc was the one to break the conversation. Grabbing a hold of himself, the orc gestured upward, and said“Going to be a good cook-off tonight, eh Pepehel?” The elf looked up. “Assuming everyone shows up. We’ve been having terrible attendance records lately. Though, that's not entirely unexpected. The winter has been terribly these last few months. No wonder nobody wants to go walking around on the streets, eh Aquor? One would need snow boots in order to make their way through the slush alone!” Aquor responded. “Still. It’s something to do. The Land of the Linnorm has always been full of snow, is part of the reason we moved here. “

The two men continued their conversation for some time, the topic drifting from old wounds, to new beginnings. “You know, Pepehel.” spoke Aquor. “I’m nearly the end of my life, but at the same time, you are barely a third of the way through yours. A sturdy elf like you could live to, what, a thousand?” “There's allways looking into Bitchdom?” Pepehel responded, in a friendly tongue. “Bah too much work” came the response. “Besides, who wants to live forever? I’ve spend my life exploring the arcane. I’ve commited good and evil. The only thing unexploded to me is the heavens themselves, assuming I make their ticket.” Pepehel let out a laugh, and said “You’ll make it in. You’ve done some bad yes, but you’ve also done some good. And by my last count, I’dd say it’s more good than bad. No moral can be 100% perfect, everyone has some missteps. But I’m of the view that the Gods are those of forgiveness, as opposed to those who punish.”



The conversation was interrupted by a knock at the door. Aquor gestured his hand up to command his Unseen Servant to open the door, however Pepehel put his hand upon Aquors arm. “I’ll get it. You get the tea.” With a sigh, as well as a smirk towards his roommate, Aquor pulled himself up off the couch, and moved over to the stove, where the tea boiled. It seemed to be just about done it's steeping. With a gesture, Aquor’s magic pulled up the tea kettle, as he himself rustled around in the cupboards for a pair of teacups. Out of view, he heard the sound of a door being opened. “Can I help you?” Was People's response. He sounded, confused, as if not recognising the visitor. “No, wait, what do you want with....ACK!”

Aquor turned to his side to see Pepehel propelled across the room, from the entrance wall all the way back to the couch. The elf slammed into the future of their humble home, blood pouring from his mouth. With but a moment to think, Aquor gestured, one hand pointing towards himself, as he spoke words that he had not spoken in many years indeed. “Armatura!” he spoke, as a flash of blue magic enveloped him in an invisible forcefield from head to toe.

But it was too late. A female voice from the entranceway screamed “Find him!” and two large hobgoblins, clad in plate armor, and clutching short swords, entrenched Aquors apartment. And just as he finished the incantations on his spell, one turned the corner, and charged at him, sword in hand. It moved to stab him, however it’s blade was deflected from the unexpected force field. The second hobgoblin had more luck however, as it simply raised its sword over it’s head, and threw it like a projectile, over his comrades head, and landing the sword directly into Aquors left shoulder. The pain flew through the old orc as a thousand old cuts and scrapes seamed to re open. The orc grit his teeth, “PEPEHEL!” he screamed towards the crumpled body of the elfs lying where he had been relaxing moments before. No response. Turning back towards his two attackers, he attempted to pull the sword from his shoulder. As he grabbed a hold of the blade, a surge of pain shot threw him as he pulled at it, causing him to double over. Seeing an opportunity, the hobgoblin in front of him moved in for the kill. However, before his sword could land, Aquor looked directly ahead, underneath the hobgoblins legs, towards the still-open door of his bedroom. Without a moment to lose, Aquor looked straight ahead, towards his bedroom, and gestured towards it. With a shout of “Abrupt Jaunt!~”, and a poof of magic, Aquor appeared in his bedroom, and immediately fell against the door, blocking the hobgoblins from getting inside, as he put both hands to the short sword imbedded in his shoulder. He pulled and pulled, and pulled the blade free, though not without releasing a lot of blood. Aquor dropped the blade onto the ground, and struggled to stand. He looked around, his vision blurry, for his spellbook. Inside were scrolls....dozens of them. He swore he had a scroll of Teleport. Or Stoneskin. Or....something. Some sort of spell to get out of this room. He moved over to his bed, and collapsed on the room, fumbling to find his spellbook.

From behind him, Aquor heard the interior room of his bedroom come crashing down, as the roar of two hobgoblins could be heard. Aquor grabbed the closest scroll, and gestured towards the two hobgoblins. As they charged forward, a stream of butterflies shot out of his hands, momentarily blinding his two assailants.

Aquor flipped himself over back onto the bed, as if he was about to sleep, and flipped through his spellbook, trying to find something...anything to alleviate his current crisis. He needed to get out of here...and fast. The blood pooling from his nearly-broken shoulder made that clearly apparent. With his remaining hand, he flipped through his spellbook. Magic Missile? Too weak. Fireball? He’ss catch himself in the blast. Glitterdust? He’dd catch himself in the blast. Water Breathing? Utterly useless. Invisibility? Ah, now here was something usefull! Aquor fumbled to his right, grabbing his spell component pouch, but before he could open it, a massive javelin was thrown at his spellbook, piercing its pages, and his right arm with it. Aquor howled in pain, just as a third figure entered his bedroom, passing directly past the blinded hobgoblins.

This third figure, clad in a white dress, was not what one might expect of a typical assassin. She looked human, though her deep blue skin gave her nonhuman ancestors away. She wore jewelry befitting of a noble, and her hair was a Platinum Blonde, falling behind her, as if she was expecting a dance, as opposed to holding a massive polearm, that she jabbed directly into the ageing wizards midsection. As Aquor howled in pain, the blue woman, removed her polearm....only to jab it into him once more...this time into his midsection. “The great wizard Aquor,” she spoke, with her aura of nobility. “Reduced to a crippled old man. It’s quite sad, really.”

Aquor grabbed a hold of the poleaxe that pinned him to his bed as the blue skinned lady continued to gloat. “I’ve read much about you, Aquor. .” she spoke towards him. “The Orcish Wizard. The Necromantic Sorcery. The man responsible for the safe return of Prince Holder, but yet, also a man who’s orcish blood always drew him to criminality. It’s just as well, after all. Orcs are naturally destructive. Replace the axe with fire, and it’s all the same.”

With both his hands on the poleaxe, Aquor pulled and pulled, though it appeared he pulled against the stealth of a titan. His assailant continued to gloat over his body. “It was hard tracking you down, you know. You clearly didn’t want to be found. But you got sloppy. And weak. Trixie twisted the axe causing Aquor to let go with his hands and howl in pain. By now, the two hobgoblins had rubbed the magic out of their eyes, and walked over to the wizard lying in pain, and grabbed a hold of his blood-stained robes, and ripped them off his body's. At the same time, Trixie approached the nearly-dead wizard, and , kneeling over him, began to remove her armored codpiece. “SUffice it to say.” she spoke to him, as the gravity of the situation began to become clear to the wizard. “I’ve met many men over the years. Some tall...some short. Some magical, and others physical. But yet, none that fit the requirements I’dd need for an heir.”

The two hobgoblins held down what remained of the dying wizard, as Trixie family began to straddle him, and began moving herself up and down, as she continued to speak. “But you’ve got what I WANT. Magical talent. Intelligence. Physical strength. A way with words. A....hearty toughness to even remain continuous at this stage of the game. Your exactly what I wanted. And so, I set out to find you. To grab a hold of you. And to take from you want I desired.

Trixie began to move faster, as Aquors head hit the pillow. “You know what the best part it?” she said to Aquor, as his eyes hurt to remain alive. “The male body’s responses to sex are involuntarily. Meaning all of that blood you're using to keep your poor brain alive? It’s all getting diverted towards where I need it most!” Aquor’s head hit the pillow, as his eyes fell closed from exhaustion. “Yes!” exhumed Trixie. “Just a little longer now! Make your old heart beat faster! Make it explode when you explode! You will be the father of a new generation of warriors....an entire line of super weapons, with power beyond anything this world has ever scene! Just a little longer orc. Just a bit more! 5! 4! 3! 2! 1.......YESSSS!”

Chapter 1:



"Little Kaleel got a gun he got from the rebels to kill the infidels and American devils a bomb on his waist a mask on his face he prays five times a day and listens to heavy metal" — Lupe Fiasco, "Little Weapons”

Wendy Lunamoon.

That was her name. Or, at least the name that was put on the shoebox that she opened when she was 4. Before that, walking around hurt. The gravel on the ground pierced her skin. The first few times, it had really hurt, and weird red stuff had come out of her feet. But she pressed on, and soon, it didn’t hurt as much, as a think-layer of skin had built up on the bottom of her feet. She could hardly feel the floor anymore...and when she did, it wasn’t nearly as bad as the first time. Only when she had that build up, did she get a pair of shoes. “The only way to use armor is to be tough enough, or quick enough, that you don’t need it!” That had been what her teacher, Uncle Xol., or just “Fuckin’ Shorty” for short, had taught her, while smashing his wooden sword into her shorter blade.

Combat training had started before she learned the word for it. Reflexes. Dodging. And a diet of strange, foul-tasting herbs. She learned to hold a blade almost right after she could walk. Her days became a constant cycle of walking, eating, exercise, reflexes, reading, and sleeping. Occasionally, about once a week, came the dueling drills. She and Xol would walk into the ring, a circle of dirt a few feet around, and would fight with wooden swords. Learning to duck, dodge, take advantage of kinks in the armor, and thrust with wooden blades.

Now, however, she didn’t face a wooden sword. She faced real steel...a greatsword, wielded by Xol, his dwarfish height entirely overshadowed by the blade he carried, which extended past his head by about a foot or so. Still, she had been hit in the head far too many times to think that this dwarf could not hold his weight with such a massive blade. Behind Xol stood Trixie, or “Master” as she prefered to be called. She calmly watched as a servant drew a new circle in the sand all around them. As the circle was completed, she looked over Xol’ head to Trixie, as she held out 5 fingers. Then four. Wendy knew that Xol would move before Trixie reached zero, so as Trixie held out 3 fingers, Wendy surged forward, the advantage her’s for once, and strung her blade into the hilt of Xol's sword, attempting to disarm him. Xol, surprised by this, had one of his hands forcibly removed from the hilt of his sword, though his other hand held onto the blade of the sword true enough to swing it around like a club, nailing Wendy into the side of the face with the flat of the blade, and causing her to topple over next to him. On her way down however, she used her own sword sword like a large dagger, and impaled Xol in the short,dwarfish leg, causing his knee to his the ground just as her face did. Xol immediately took both hands off his blade in order to grasp at his leg, an openly that Wendy took in order to kick up, and hold her sword with both hands, in order to bring it down upon Xl's left arm.

With both of her arms pushing down on it, her blade dug into the leather on her teachers left arm deepy. She continued to press and press, eventually producing what looked to be blood until a smash from Xol’s greatsword taught her to always keep her guard up. She rolled with the swing, and bounced back up, attempting to flank her teacher, but Xol reached his sword above his head, and aimed it for the crown of her head, forcing her to dodge backwards. She retracted her sword from his hand, and thrust it forward towards his face, only for Xol to parry it away. The dwarf advanced on her, and brought his sword in from the size for a horizontal slash across her midsection. Wendy dropped prone, and, in an act of desperation, threw her shortsword at Xol. With the weight of his blade carrying him through the attack, Xol could not move his blade fast enough to block the unexpected projectile which sailed through the air true, and entered his face though his nose, breaking the brittle bone there, and getting remarkably close to the back of his skull.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” cried the dwarf as he slumped to his knees and began to claw at his face, which seemed to almost explode into blood. Cultists from both sides of the arena ran into the ring, and grabbed a hold of Xol, and cast cure spells into the dwarfs body, while dragging him away. While some of the spectators looked on in horror at the spectacle before them, Trixie looked on, and smiled an evil smile. With but a gesture, she pointed at some “servants”, as wendy as learned to call them, and at Wendy. She learned that Trixie was not one to speak to her underlings...and as a result, she had come to understand the sign-language used by those in the presence of the Master. This meant, “go with them. “ Wendy looked towards the servants, and followed them, as they took her into the library.

This was the second part of her training. Books. Mountains of them. While it was true that Wendy enjoyed reading more than she did fighting, the amount she had to read was enormous. Times ranged from children's storybooks, to University-level textbooks on the theoretical application of magic. And were there a lot of magic! Spellbooks lined the walls, containing all sorts of spells, from your basic Magic Missile, to your incredibly complex Stoneskin spell. There were tomes of history, of plants, of geo-political knowledge, and ancient kings. Tomes about alchemical knowledge, and manuals of fonts and grammar. Here wendy sat, with a reading list taller than her own height. As soon as she was inside, however, she instantly got to work. When she was younger, she remembered defying the cultists. Reading hurt her head! She refused. However, after a night of...persuasion, that even she doesn't want to remember,she learned better than to question her betters. As a result, every night after practice, she spend buried in books, learning everything from long division to the fundamental nature of arcane magic.

Today, however, something different happened. About an hour into her studies, just as she flipped through an incredibly dry copy of “Divination Concepts in the Application of Transmutative magics in relation the Brunson-Hilgar Weave sub-strata and Resultant Fluctuations in Statistical Probability” a figure entered the library. Wendy turned towards the door to look at the newcomer, however, upon seeing the platinum blonde hair upon a set of blue skin, immediately turned back towards her books, in an attempt to still look busy, to look as those she had not disrupted her studies. But Trixie had noticed. She walked over to Wendy, struggling to read the technical manual, and, seemingly absentmindedly mentioned, “What's that you're reading?” Wendy’s heart skipped a beat, and she was momentarily caught off guard. “What....Master?” Trixie walked over to the other side of the desk, and said. “The book you’ve got. What’s it about?” Wendy, now looking up into her mother's blueish purple eyes, and responded “Uhhh....It’s a....mostly theoretical. It’s a volume about manipulating luck..fate..and other sub-strata of divination magic.” Trixie responded in an equally disinterested tome “And why are you reading it?” Confused, Wendy responded “Because Xol put it on the reading list for this week, and it’s part of the....

Trixie cut her prodigy off. “Xol is dead, Wendy. Your blade pierced his skull, and impaled into his brain. He passed pretty much as soon as you left the room. “ Wendy looked at her master, horrified. She had killed Xol? She has seen Master rip the skin off servants for failing to correctly measure the sugar in tea. Her mind began to race through the possibilities. She was most certainly dead. Or maybe Trixie would think that too good for her. All the while, however Wendy kept a purely neutral expression on her face. She had learned early on to not show fear.

Trixie, however, continued on. “Xol was one of my most trained instructors, ever since Vol passed. I saw that dwarf take on entire towns worth of warriors. Command legions. And yet, you took him down with a single knife to the skull.”

Wendy began to show visible worry lines across her face as Master continued to talk, however suddenly, she seemed to change tones. “I’m impressed. I know few within my ranges with the balls to be able to take out Xol, especially during a training exercise. You were not one of them. And you proved me wrong. Perhaps you’ve gotten better at things then I thought.

Now this threw Wendy entirely off guard. Master NEVER talked to her directly. Much less complimented her. Things were either “terrible” or “good enough.” Wendy was in shock. What was going on.

And yet Trixie continued. “As a result, with Xol dead, I don’t think I have anyone really able to continue training you. As a result, while your a few years too early, I think I’ve just the thing for you to prove your skills.......”



Chapter 2:

Is it finally over? Are you finally done? Are you happy now? Did you have your fun?

I hope that it was worth it All the tears I cried While you were laughing I was terrified -Mandopony, “Nothing Can Hurt Me.”

Wendy sat on a cart, a dark cloak over her face and hair, with a dagger on one side of her new belt, and a spellbook on the other side. In her hands, was a piece of paper, on it was a hand/drawn picture of a elderly blonde haired woman, in what looked to be mage robes.







Target’s Name: Tara Occupation: Schoolteacher Last known location: 157 Acadamae St, Korvosa,Varisia Reason for assassination: The Will of Trixie.



It wasn’t written by Trixie, no, she seemed to almost explode with rage when this target was mentioned. It was penned by her subordinate, and handed to Wendy before she was carried out of the complex by a cart and horse. A building that, up until 5 minutes ago, had been all she knew about the outside world. While she had recently read about the outside world, seeing plants, its history, and its chemical makeup, it was a different experience entirely to see things with her own eyes, and to feel the cold, natural air on her face. It was a strange experience, currently, to be sent out on a mission. No servants or teachers to watch her. Still, the servants words had been clear. “Come home with her head, or don’t come back at all.” Victory or death. All or nothing. This had been the moment she was training for! This is what all the training had been about! She was going to fight this, “Tara”, and return back to the complex a hero, a proven killer!



The cart she rode in on rode right on past the vegetation, and towards the city of Korvosa, and passed right through the market gate, like dozens of other carts. However, rather than head directly towards the markets, the cart took a sharp left pass it, towards High Bridge. Crossing the bridge, the cart and it’s horses took a sharp right, and, passing right beneath the watchful eye of the keep, slowly trotted up to the outskirts of the Acadamae. With a thumbs up, the driver signaled to her, and Wendy stood up, and jumped off the cart into a nearby alleyway, as the cart itself trotted off to the markets. Pulling out her scrap of paper, she looked at the nearby street, and began counting housing numbers.

About an hour later, Wendy was getting sick and tired of counting. Why were there so many houses here in this city? Why was it so open? She kept counting...even as she passed by her hundredth house.....97, 99, 101, 103, 105......It wasn’t going to be long now. Wendy kept her eyes on the house numbers....109, 111, 113...so focused on the house numbers that she barely was watching where she was going. She quickened her pace. 125,127,129,131,133.....ouch!”

Wendy slammed into a pair of legs walking in the opposite direction, causing both parties to fall down, and causing the paper to slip from her hand. Wendy watched it fall, however, that thought was almost instantly vanished from her mind as she felt her body land face-first into the dirt on the ground. “Ahh, Darn it.” came a voice of annoyance, but it was not her own. Wendy pushed herself off the ground, and turned around, where she saw a woman, who looked to be in her 70s, laying on the ground, books and papers strew everywhere, with a fancy, blue silken dress, now ruined due to the dirt and gravel. Wendy reached towards the woman almost instinctively, however, she waved Wendy off. “It’s allready. I’m fine.” she said upon standing up. “Though you should really watch where you're going.” Wendy looked at the woman, her voice sounding....familiar, somehow. “Sorry”, she managed to respond, her mind still in a daze. The other woman hastily grabbed the books and paper on the ground, while responding “It’ all right. Just try to watch where you're going.”

Wendy also looked through the mess of papers for the scrap that had the information she most desperately needed. Out of the corner of her eye, however, she saw a white, paper-shaped object. She picked it up, however, upon looking at it, it did not appear to be the bit of paper she was looking for. Rather it was a licence. A Wizard’s Licence, specifically. The name? Tara Lunamoon. The address? 157 Acadamae St, Korvosa,Varisia. Wendy squinted her eyes at the licence. That shouldn't be right. She looked up, and saw the woman she had bumped into looking back at her, in her hand a very peculiar piece of paper. It took Wendy a full second to process what had happened, causing her to stand up, and attempt to bolt away, however a blast of clear magic emanated behind her, trapping her inside a bubble, only a small bit bigger than she herself was. She smashed her hands onto the bubble, however..it felt impenetrable. The woman from before walked over to the now-trapped wendy, and gestured towards the bubble, causing it to follow her down the street.

-5 mins later-



Wendy sat, inside of her impenetrable bubble, thinking. She didn’t have a damn clue on how to get out of prison, so instead she studied it. Recalling back to her books about Spellcraft, this appeared to be a Resilient Sphere. If she was correct, to which wendy currently thought she was, then this spell only lasted a few minutes, and would dissipate any second. And yet, somehow, it held as strong as stone. Either this “Tara” was of a incredibly powerful mage, or their was something else at foot. And why did her licence say she had the last name of Master? Wendy had many questions...but perhaps the most intriguing is why she was currently floating behind this old woman,who fumbled with her keys to open her house, 157 Acadamae St. She walked inside, and the bubble followed inside after her. The interior of the house was mild, neither fancy like Wendy’s familiar library, or ill-maintained like her fighting ring back at the complex. Tara took a seat on a large, green, cushioned chair, and gestured Wendy's prison to float about the nearby couch. Wendy sat in her floating sphere, armed and legs crossed.

“So,” the old woman asked her. “What's your name?” Wendy remained silent. Tara also remained silent for a while, but soon repeated her question “Your name please?” Still Wendy remained cross-armed. Tara signed, and held up the note that she had taken from Wendy. r“You're clearly not from around here, and this right here is evidence enough for the guard to take you, and lock you up for a very, very, long time. And I don’t think you want that. I don’t want that for someone as young as you. So I’m just going to ask you a few questions. And if you answer them, I’m going to let you go. Allright?” Wendy, seeing no other option, sighed, and responded. “My name is Wendy. Wendy Lunamoon.”











Chapter 3:

I don't care who you are Where you're from What you did As long as you love me.

-Backstreet Boys- “As Long As You Love Me”

By now, the wine hd begin to flow. “So let me get this straight,” Tara said, her glass half empty from her conjured wine. “Not only is Trixie still alive, but she’s underground, calling herself a god, and kidnapping little girls like you, and running her own little evil empire?” Wendy, now un-bubbled, and also with a glass of wine in her hand, responded. “Well, not kidnapped. Mast...I mean Trixie, is my mom. I don’t know who my father is though.” Tara downed her glass of wine, and with a gesture, summoned another, only to down it as well. It appeared that the alcohol was doing it’s job. “So...I guess that makes me your aunt? And no idea on the father?“



Tara stood up, and walked over to Wendy, squinting her eyes at her new niece “Well...you look human to me. You're a bit tall for your age...and you look like your grandmother.....but apart from that? You look like you might have a bit of goblin blood in you.” Wendy jumped. “Gobin?!” she asked, concerningly. “Or orcish. One of the other. Still, you're definitely not a half-orc, or a goblin, that's for sure. Maybe a half-half-orc. But that's beside the point. I’m surprised for certain, to hear that my sister is still alive. She was always so....nice when she was younger. Though she always was the competitive type. The fact that she wants me dead, all these years later though? I’m just shocked to hear how far she’s fallen.”

Wendy drank back the last of her glass of wine, her head beginning to hurt. Seeing this, Tara put her own glass down. “Oh right. Sorry..” With Wendy clutching her head, Tara grabbed a hand of the former-assassin, and lead her upstairs. “We can talk about the rest of this in the morning. But right now, you ought to get some rest.” Wendy held onto her targets hand, and upon seeing the bed, almost cried. It was a big bed, about Queen size by modern standards. It was clean. It wasn’t filled with rats, or cobwebs. It felt perfect. Wendy jumped onto the bed, and almost instantly, a decades worth of posture and back problems were eliminated overnight.

Over the next few weeks, Wendy told everything to Tara. Where she had lived, and the layout of the complex. What Trixie and the rest of the servants were like. What her training has entailed, and the weapons she used. In return, Tara showed her niece plenty of spells...dozens of them at least. Tara told Wendy that she would use this information for good, however, she also told Wendy that she was also in danger for sticking around. “If my sister is as powerful as you say she is, then I imagine she won’t be all that happy that you and I have have become friends.”

As a result, Tara handed Wendy a pouch full of coin. With that coin, Wendy went down to the local markets, baught up as much supplies she could afford, and jumped on a boat to (Pootis name is Will’s campaign world here)