An Oath, Sworn

You’re glad Ladrieth is on the lighter side.

As you travel, you decide to take a closer look at your new loot.

Soul Crystal

A unique resource generated when a boss kills a player. Can be used for lair upgrades.

You have two of them, a level two crystal from Ievos, and a level three crystal from Wylahael. It’s a good thing they’re so small, otherwise they might not have fit into your inventory.

You banish your inventory, and summon your character sheet.

Fame: 119

Recent Activity:

Successfully Bargained With Another Faction +99 (Expanded)

Acquired an Abundance of Goods +27

Acquired an Abundance of Treasures +52

Helped Another Faction +5

Improved Relations with Another Faction +10

Defeated a Hero +2 (Expanded)

You defeated a level 3 hero! +3

They didn’t know your lair. -1

Defeated a Hero +1 (Expanded)

You defeated a level 2 hero! +2

They didn’t know your lair. -1

Captured a Hero! +2 (Expanded)

Captured a level 3 hero! +3

They didn’t know your lair -1

Very profitable. That’s one point of Fame for each trade good, and two for every treasure. The fight was less beneficial; better to consider the Fame from that an added benefit, though that may change as you grow slay stronger heroes.

“That sounds like menus.”

You dismiss the menu with a gesture. “Glad to know your ears still work, Ladrieth.”

“I have plants over my eyes, not shoved in my ears.”

You chuckle. “You have fire.”

“Never heard that one before,” she says, dryly, “Wasn’t expecting to see you again, at least not so soon.”

“You’re awfully chatty, considering the circumstances.”

“I don’t know,” she says, “You roughed up my friends, but they’re safe back in town. And I may be a prisoner, but that’s temporary.”

“Why, do you think your friends are coming to save you?” Your tone makes it clear you don’t think it likely.

“No.” Evidently, she doesn’t either. “Even if Ievos tracked you down, they’d need to beat you first. Maybe the three of us could, but I’m kinda useless right now.”

You have a feeling she’s overestimating you, but you’re not going to tell her that,

“What I think,” she says, “is I’m a prisoner. And prisoners still need to eat, and don’t do any work. I’m a drain. Either you’ll think of something you want from me and we can cut another deal, or you let me starve and I respawn.”

Damn, she’s clever.

“Your imprisonment may be an inconvenience more than anything else,” you say, “but I think you’ll find I can be quite patient, and am not disposed to sell your freedom cheaply.”

“That makes sense.” She sighs. “For what it’s worth, the quest giver wasn’t honest with us. Made it sound like that dryad was some terrifying forest monster, not somebody’s tree girlfriend.”

You snort. Holly isn’t a danger to anyone—she just wants to sleep in her tree and fuck.

This all lines up with what Holly had told you they had been discussing among themselves. The contrition might be an act, but she’s being much more flippant than you’d expect from someone putting trying to trick you into letting them go. Too flippant. You’ll have to correct that.

“So, uh.” Evidently, Ladrieth took your silence as a sign to continue talking. “What sorts of things might you want for my ransom?”

You smile, though she can’t see it in her current position. “Be creative.”

“Well,” she says, “I know the name of the person who put a hit out on your girlfriend.”

Unbeknownst to either of you, the embers of golden light in your eyes flash.

“That,” you say, “is certainly a good start.”

As you walk, you continue to discuss the matter. She seems interested in trading information for your freedom—and you doubt she has anything else that interests you anyways—but she is hesitant to give away intelligence which could put Thaeldir’s Crossing at risk. You don’t make much progress.

But when, at last, you return to your lair, you find someone waiting in the clearing.

The thing that draws the eye most immediately is her wings. They're like a butterfly’s, dancing the line between purple and blue, with whorls of shining yellow, all edged in black. Her skin is tinted a light green, the color of the gentler grasses. Her auburn hair is braided into a circlet around her head, with one long tail trailing down to her waist. There are flower petals of all different colors tucked in the folds of her braids. She’s wearing a short dress, the color and pattern of leaves, with a low neckline and bare shoulders. She has long gloves, up to the elbow, and longer stockings, up to just below the hem of her dress, each of the same material.

And she’s maybe a foot and a half tall. It’s like someone hit a full-grown woman with a shrinking spell. Possibly twice. But also a butterfly.

Level 1 Pixie

Fey, Sprite, Explicit

Well, that explains her size, at any rate.

She’s sitting on top of the mound of your barrow, just over the entrance, her shoulders hunched. When she sees you, she takes to the air, her vibrant wings fluttering, bringing her up to you, wringing her hands.

“Um, hello sir.”

Before you can respond to her, Ladrieth pipes up, “Who the hell is this?”

“I don’t imagine that’s any concern of yours, prisoner.” Your tone is light, but you emphasize your point by shifting Ladrieth into a less comfortable position. It’s less comfortable for you as well, but this close to home you’re not especially concerned.

“Now then,” you turn to the pixie, “hello. I take it you have some manner of business with me?”

“I have, sir,” she says, “I wish to enter your service.”

You mull that over for a moment, motioning for her to enter the barrow with you. You were not expecting this so early. You only have the first level for Fey Liegelord, and haven’t built up the infrastructure of your lair at all. Why has she come to you now?

You drop Ladrieth unceremoniously against one of the walls, ignoring the sounds she makes in response, and turn again to your prospective servant.

You ask her, “Why?”

“Sir, I can be useful. I can gath–“

You raise a hand to signal her silence.

“Not quite what I meant,” you say. “I am not especially inclined to deny one who wishes to serve.” Her posture visibly relaxes. “However,” you add, “it is not my experience that pixies wish to serve. Not me, not anyone. You have a specific reason you have come to me, and I would like to know what it is.”

Pixies are mischievous creatures, of dalliance and want and whim. If she is willing, she can be bound to you, but she has to know that—if not much else, she will understand that much about the sidhe.

“Right.” The pixie heaves a breath in, and out. “I wasn’t really interested in serving, until earlier today. I was with my friends in a glade further west, nearer to the coast. We were… attacked.” She glances over at Ladrieth.

Wait…

“By adventurers?” They couldn’t possibly…

The pixie nods. “We spent a lot of time in that glade. We really liked all the wildflowers that grew there.” Her gaze turns down to the ground. “Adventurers never really bothered us before. There was a quest to gather up the dust we left behind, so we saw a lot of them. But this time, they…”

Her wing start to flutter erratically,

“They, they’re all…”

She floats jerkily to the ground, falling to her knees, her wings limp against her back. A sob creeps out of her.

“They…”

You sit down next to the pixie, and pull her into your lap, and she curls against your chest.

“Serve me faithfully,” you whisper, “and these things I shall promise to you. I shall stand in your defense. I shall build a place where your beloved dead may be given honor. I shall give you vengeance.”

She looks up at you, tears in the corners of her eyes. “Vengeance?”

“We shall find whoever ordered what happened to you and your friends,” you say, “and together we shall drink their blood.”

She cannot quite blink away the tears in her eyes, but your words conjure something else there: a fiery, burning resolve.

“I shall serve you,” she says. “I shall do all those things you command of me. I shall look out for your interests, wherever they may go. I shall carry your word to any who listen.”

You each swear upon Oak and Ash and Thorn. Upon the Stars and the Moon and the Sun. Upon the memories of her friends, upon the grave of your old master, upon your blade.

“Remember these things, Merovon. There is power in that which is thrice-done, thrice-said, thrice-promised. Swear an oath by another, and they shall keep you to your word. A blade cuts away flesh, corruption, and falsehood.”

Minion Fame Abilities Unlocked!

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Fame: 136

Recent Activity:

Got a Minion! +22 (Expanded)

Got a minor Minion! +1

First time bonus! +5

Gained a rare minion! +5

Adoration Recruitment! +2

An Oath, Thrice-Sworn +9