Daydreaming on the path to Daria's

[Liqcrys]

It was slow going on the way to Daria's grove. She hoped that Donatella's spirit was willing to return. A holy warrior is just what we'll need as we cross The Blight, not to mention Whitehall. Joff was unsure that even Daria could bring back her apprentice. All of Donatella's remains could fit in her palm. She had seen amazing and fantastic things, been to hell and back, but was still skeptical that a being could be returned alive and whole so easily. The priest will want paying though. In her experience everything had a price. But while she was willing to pay handsomely to fulfill Shalimar's tasks, she was also wary. Everyone's got promises. She recalled another powerful figure, making similar promises.

Mardoin had found her on the streets of some gods-forgotten village near Brix. A dirty child, begging for scraps from the farmers at their daily market, looking for any opportunity to filch a potato or (even better) an apple or piece of fruit. Mardoin had grabbed Jenn's wrist as she tried to snake a turnip from Mardoin's basket, and recognized something in Jenn.  Mardoin was beautiful and exotic, and Jenn could sense a deep strength emanating from her. And she was warm and kind to a thieving orphan. She took the girl in, spending the next two afternoons and nights in the village square eating and talking till late in the evening. But Mardoin was a fortune teller, and didn't stay in one place for long. When she told Jenn that she was leaving, Jenn begged her to take her along. Mardoin consented gladly. Jenn would eventually learn why she was so quick to assent.

The next few years Jenn travelled across Wyverndale with Mardoin, selling "magic" potions and "rare tinctures" to the superstitious and foolish from the smallest village to what passed for cities this far south, weaving small magics to distract the eye. Mardoin taught her her letters and numbers, arithmetic and some history. Also how to slit a purse quickly and discreetly, how to make a vial of berry juice and water cost 10 gold pieces, how to dye your skin and hair to pass guards with long memories, how to smile at a man to distract him from what your hands were doing, and how to cheat at shar-veith with an unmarked deck. In the process she learned all there was to know of the orphan girl. The circumstances of her orphaning were of especially great interest.

One night at the cook-fire, hearing the tragic story again, Mardoin looked up from her seat by the fire (she never did the cooking). She stared at Jenn, for an uncomfortable time, silencing her orphan assistant mid-tale with her gaze. She spoke with a quiet intensity. "Jenn, I am not without my own arcane skills. From this tale, I think it likely your mother is still alive.  I can help you find your mother but I will need your help. If you give me everything, I can give it back to you tenfold. But it will be a very tough price. Can you pay it? I promise you, your mother can be found but only if you are willing to pay me the price."

It was the promise Jenn had wished for more than anything. Mardoin had become as close to a mother to her as was possible for the cold beautiful woman and Jenn trusted her. I took the deal and I paid the price. But I never got what was promised you bitch. And I paid over and over, for what?! Nothing but scars on my back and blood on my hands The price was great. From that moment Jenn was allowed deeper into the real world of Mardoin. A world of hidden power and dark magic. The three-faced Gods' world. A world where the traveling potions peddler held midnight meetings on moonless nights. Robed figures gathered in secret groves and conspired towards unknown ends. The world of the Three-Faced God was terrifying and thrilling, and Jenn was surprised how well it suited her.

They moved further north, to the Thornywood, and Jenn began her payment in earnest. Training with Mardoin during the day, learning the tenets of the Three-Faced God and how to read the arcane letters. Then she would sleep a few hours before waking in the middle of the night to spar with sword and spear against anonymous partners in the dark forest.

She saw only the figures in their robes, faces hidden behind  deep cowls, and their individual natures remained a mystery. She quickly became known to them however. The dark robes could only hide her face, her natural talents for violence made her stand out almost immediately. It was only a few fortnights of training before she was summoned to a grove for a meeting. Before she left their tent that night, Mardoin had put her arms on Jenn's shoulders and spoke solemnly, "You have been learning what it is to have value, tonight you start your payments."

The payment was violence and blood. Violence to green mages, druids, and clerics of the small gods. Blood of hedge wizards, goblin shamans, kobold priests, anyone who held what the Three-Faced god wanted. Jenn didn't hate all of it though. Even found that she might be too good at it for her own liking. The violence was an outlet, a channel for all her pain and loneliness. She took out her fears and pain on all she was tasked to remove. It made her foolhardy, and it made her quite efficient in her violence. No other acolyte would risk so much as she, and no other acolyte rose up as she. And all the while the promises continued. “We need to go to this city, there is a book that may hold the answer.” “We need to go that small village, there is an old hag who may hold the answer.” “We will find your mother Jenn, she's still alive, I'm sure. I have had a vision”  Always the promises continued.

Jenn was never certain why she believed Mardoin so long. She definitely didn't worship the Three-Faced God. Perhaps she enjoyed the killing a little to much. Perhaps she would do anything to hold on to whatever passed as “family” in her life. The three-faced God wasn't a friendly god or one that promoted a sense of community, but even the loose structure of the cult felt like something to her. Perhaps she really did believe her, even after years of empty promises and bloody violence. It made no matter. The price seemed unending, and Jenn's frustrations boiled over. She abandoned the temple and Mardoin without a word, leaving them behind one dark evening.

She had left the Thornywood . Jenn headed far south. She put the skills she learned in those early years to use. Playing the part of “young girl, seeking her fortune as a caravan guard”. The other guards were always welcoming. Sometimes to welcoming. The first night of her 1st job, she slit another guardsman from belly to shoulders when he sought to press his advances on her while she slept. “Goblins most likely” she had told the caravan master as they looked over the body in the morning, and he had nodded knowingly. The other guardsmen saw the hidden message also and treated her courteously, but cautiously.  Slowly they came to know Joff, often treated her like a kid sister (until they saw her in battle, then the long slow looks would begin, looks of respect tainted with fear).  True friends were few, but she did make some, the better to ward off prying eyes.

She was hidden, unknown, and would have stayed that way had the money not run dry. War and battle slowed the flow of merchants willing to pay guard rates. She would take any job she could, and when the call had come out in Shattered Bridge for drivers to take supplies to some gods-forgotten village called Meadstead, she gratefully accepted the coin.  It was that path that would lead her here though, and back to the attentions of the temple. Seeing the cultists in Everspring had brought back great alarm. Feeling Mardoin's presence on the ward flooded her with old memories, and fears. Now, however, she was a different person, with new strengths, and an ally of great power.

Joff looked up from her reverie, tracking her comrades' positions through the forest. She blinked and paused as a flash of sunlight made it through the leaves. She loosened her sword in its sheath and moved forward.