Once more, I’ve looked into my archive for today’s story. This offering is based on a Dungeons & Dragons campaign I ran many years ago. The setting is the Dragon’s Snout Islands, off the northeast coast of the continent. Enjoy.

Ashja walked down the gangplank of the small merchant ship onto which she’d hired as a guard and general deckhand. Disappointed she wasn’t continuing to Port Ramall in the west, she suspected Stryfe—the immortal Hero, and her patron deity—had a reason for her to be here. She’d boarded the Black Wolfe in Thayur, signing on to sail all the way around the tip of the Dragon’s Snout Islands to the Western Shore of the Adaran continent. She shuddered at the memory of almost becoming a slave. Her search for the goddess Ashta’Qi had consumed her for the last ten years. Surely, the temple on the island of the Da’Velli pirate hadn’t been the goddess’s last.

Captain Wolfe let Ashja go when the ship had to divert off its course to Port Freehaven, the former pirate refuge. The cargo of foodstuffs she had so carefully helped pack into the cargo hold back in Thayur had spoiled during the voyage. Glancing up at the afternoon sun, she was glad that at least she had enough coin to find an inn for a night or two and explore the city before she had to search for employment—and her reason for being here.

She reached the end of the pier, stopping for a moment to get her bearings and look around. The ebb and flow of the foot traffic and ox-driven carts along the docks was hypnotic. Ships from all over the continent, carrying all manner of exotic freight, bobbed alongside the piers. Sailors and merchants of all races and backgrounds mingled on the wharves. A cacophony of noise assaulted her ears—screeching gulls, surf slapping hulls, cart wheels creaking along the cobbles, vendors hawking their wares, and the ocean wind—along with the myriad of aromas mingled with other, less pleasant, odors. Money changed hands so fast she could only just follow the transactions. The tang of fish, seaweed, and exotic spices permeated the air; the sights, sounds, and smells almost overwhelmed her. As she watched the crowds, still finding her land legs, she saw three very familiar figures.

“Rayus! Ivy! Zantu!” she called at the group, pushing through the crowd toward them.

“Ashja?” the questioning voice of Rayus broke through the hubbub.

“What are you doing here?” Everyone asked at once; backslaps and hugs reuniting the companions again.

Laughing, Ashja replied, “I was on my way to Port Ramall on the western shores and our cargo spoiled, the captain had to let me go. So, here I am! What about you?”

“I heard rumors of my sister,” said Ivy, eyes shining. “I been looking for her ever since we left Ventis.”

“I’m on my way to the temple in Mearles,” said Rayus. “I have been a priestess of Ehlonna these past turns.”

“I have come to research in the library at the Temple of Knowledge,” said Zantu, with little inflection in his voice. His shining eyes betrayed his attempt at aloofness.

“It’s good to see you again,” said Ashja. “We have a lot to catch up on.”

“Aye,” came a rough, sibilant voice from behind the young woman. “And ye’ll have plenty o’ time ta do just that aboard yer new ship—the Serpent. Ye’ve just volunteered for an exciting life at sea.” He squinted one eye at the group. “Tha’ question is: Do ye’s want to go the easy way or the hard way?”

They hadn’t noticed the group of ruffians that had surrounded them, nor that the masses of people that had surrounded them a moment ago had thinned. Seven men hemmed them in, slapping the saps they held into the palms of their opposite hands, the noise intended to unnerve them.

Ashja turned toward the man who spoke. His twisted and toothless smile showed little kindness. The tattoos on his knuckles stretched as he smacked the sap he held in his right hand into the palm of his left hand. Her mouth twisted into a wicked grin as she reached behind her head and drew her greatsword.

“It’ll have be the hard way, I’m afraid,” she said to the toothless pirate as she rushed him. She heard robes rustle and Zantu mumble in his strange magical language at her back. At the same time, a flurry of movement and a thud to the rear and her left told her that Ivy hadn’t lost her ability to sneak up and attack from behind.

The leader sidestepped her swing and two more of the pirates moved to surround her. The sound of steel-on-steel and magic erupted around her as the attempted kidnappers tried to knock out the party with their saps and belaying pins. One pirate connected, leaving a stinging bruise on her right shoulder.

Two spells and five hits later, four of the pirates lay dead or dying at their feet, the others having fled the area. As the last of the remaining press gang fled the area, a young priestess stepped toward the group.

“Pick on newcomers will they,” she said, chuckling, palms raised toward the group. “Hail and well met. I am Sister Agatha, and I have been looking for characters such as you who can take care of themselves in a tussle. If you’ll allow me to buy you a drink as a better welcome to Port Freehaven, I would discuss hiring you to find someone. What say you?”

Ashja scrutinized the young priestess, but sensed no ill will toward the companions.

“I’m game,” she replied, looking to the rest of the party.

Nods came from the group and they followed the young priestess to a small tavern called the Bilge Rat. Surprisingly, the ale was much better than expected. Just what Ashja needed after the scuffle on the wharf.

“Two days ago, a librarian—and my friend—from my temple disappeared. For reasons that are somewhat… complicated… the high priest has chosen not to look into the matter. The missing woman, Malora, is a dear friend of mine, and I am concerned evil may have befallen her.”

Ivy sat up straight, pointed ears tipping forward.

“I’m willing to offer you seventy-five gold pieces—each—twenty-five now and fifty when you complete this task, if you can find Malora and return her to the temple. I will supply information and healing should you require it,” the priestess looked each in the eye, concern on her face. “Interested?”

“Malora?” she whispered. “An elf?” Her voice shook.

“Yes, how did you know?”

“I lost my sister to pirates a little over decade ago.”

“I’ve known Malora for the better part of ten turns. We were both acolytes in the temple. She became a librarian and I, a priestess. But six turns ago, odd things began to happen. She changed overnight—one day she was my friend of many years, the next she was a stranger.” The priestess’s eyes unfocused. “She asked bizarre questions, remembered nothing of our friendship. She treated the temple as her own personal research library—all but neglecting her duties. A few moons later one of the senior priests caught her violating the sanctum and she was dismissed. A moon later, she left Port Freehaven and was gone for turns.”

“Gone?”

“Yes,” she turned and looked at the young elf, “and when Malora reappeared, she was like her old self. She came to the temple and begged High Priest Darryn to be readmitted, saying that she had no memory of the previous five years. He was adamant about refusing Malora’s petition but changed his mind after a private meeting with her.”

“I wonder why,” commented Rayus.

“I don’t know,” the cleric replied. “Malora returned to the temple, and it was just like old times for almost a turn. About a fortnight ago, she started looking worn-out, and told me she wasn’t sleeping well. Something was troubling her, but she wouldn’t say what. She asked a lot of questions about how she had been right before her expulsion. The high priest admonished her about it, but Malora wouldn’t let it go.”

“Sounds like Malora,” murmured Ivy.

“I was worried about my friend. She seemed on the brink of collapse, as if one small thing could push her over the edge. Two days ago, she didn’t arrive at the temple. I went to her home and it was all but empty. I searched everywhere I knew to look, but couldn’t find her. The other priests will deny it, but I know that something has happened to Malora. I am asking you to find out what.”

“We’ll find her, don’t you worry,” stated Ivy.

Sister Agatha looked toward the door. The sun hung low in the sky.

“I must go back to the temple for evening prayers, may I direct you to lodgings?”

“That would be great!” exclaimed Ivy. “It’s been a rough day, and we just got here.”

“I agree,” said Ashja. “I’m exhausted.”

Sister Agatha led them through the narrow, winding streets of the Old City to the Temple District, pointing out the sights as they passed. Had the priestess not been with the party, they would have had to follow the outside of the walls, as not everyone was welcome within the walls of the Old City. When they reached the edge of the district, she led them a street away from the temple to an inn called The Scholar’s Quill. As the group waited in the courtyard, she spoke with the innkeeper, a full-figured woman named Sidarrah.

“It’ll be a gold a day for the lot of you,” she announced upon her return. “Two rooms, second floor, end of the hall at the top of the stairs, here’s keys,” she handed each a key. “I’ve paid your first night, the rest is up to you.” Agatha smiled as she imparted the information. “Mistress Sidarrah will treat you well as long as you don’t cause trouble. The price includes breakfast and supper. Breakfast at four bells before noonday whistle, sharp; supper is five bells after. Don’t be late, or you’ll have to sweet-talk the girls.” She smiled at the party. “I’ll be back in the morning after morning prayers to show you to Malora’s home. If you hurry, you’ll catch the last of supper.”

With that, she turned and hurried toward the temple, a couple of blocks to the west.