"Bayou Garramarisma," said the smuggler. A scoff and a laugh. As if he didn't believe her. "Now why, given all the hellholes Arethil has to offer, would a lady like you want to go there?"
"There hides a monster," Lazule said. Her brow narrowed. The look in her eye intense. "As it is said in the legend."
"Yes. My point exactly," said the smuggler. Throwing a hand up dismissively. Leaning back into his chair and looking back down at the parchments before him on the desk. The facade of being a legitimate Allirian harbormaster. The rough men who stood to either side of Lazule stepped forward. Closer to her. Their intent to escort her out of the office.
Undeterred, Lazule said to the smuggler, "The Bayou Bone Eater."
The smuggler flinched and looked about wildly as if some manner of ghost had slipped by before his eyes. He looked to Lazule then and snapped a finger to his lips and shushed loudly. "Not so fucking loud, woman! Godsdamn it, they say it's bad luck to even mention that name! I'll not have my men cursed on account of your recklessness. You wouldn't understand unless you yourself were a sailor, but I say to you that there is no such thing as superstition on the high seas. How can I put it?" The smuggler thought for a moment. "The seas are a place of respect. And respect must be rendered. To the natural and to the things beyond the natural. Lest you and all your crew are made to sail straight down to the ocean floor, joining the rest of the foolish seafarers who failed in paying their dues of proper respect."
"How much?"
"What?"
Lazule said again, "How much?"
"How much what?"
"How much is your price for providing fare for me to Bayou Garramarisma?"
The smuggler laughed and tossed his arms up and glanced to the two men next to Lazule and they too chuckled. But the smuggler facetiously named an exorbitant price. The confidence in his voice clear: that she would not raise such a sum.
Alliria. The same harbor office. The same smuggler. The same two lackeys he had before. Some two weeks later.
Lazule pushed opened the door to his office. Two canvas sacks, one in each hand. She walked up to his desk even as the two rough men approached her apprehensively. The smuggler looked up from the manifest in his hands, his brow furrowed in bewilderment.
And Lazule tossed the bag in her right hand up onto his desk. The heavy clinking of coin inside. The bag sliding and sinking as the coin inside settled, its flaps open to reveal the crowns within.
Silence. Slack-jawed silence from the smuggler and from his two men.
"Woman," the smuggler said slowly, "I'm more than happy to take your money. I am. Trust me. But...and I can't believe I'm saying this...but I cannot in good conscience take you to--"
Lazule lifted the bag in her left hand and pulled something fleshy free from it and the stench became immediately potent as soon as the grim thing was freed from the confines of the canvas. She dropped the bag and tossed the green and reeking thing onto the desk next to the bag of coin.
The smuggler recoiled and brought his arm across his face to cover his nose. "Gods! What the hell is that?"
"The scalp of a troll. I've more, should you want to see."
The smuggler looked from the scalp to Lazule to the scalp and to Lazule again. He lowered his arm slightly. His voice hardly above a whisper. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Bayou Garramarisma," Lazule said. "I shall find the Bayou Bone Eater. And kill it. If the monster so exists, I shall bring you a piece of it. So you needn't pay homage to a false idol any longer."
The smuggler, Dax, guided his ship close to the shore on the eastern side of the Great Bayou. Not too close. Hell no. Practically, he couldn't bring his large trade vessel close to the shallow shore, but spiritually, he wouldn't dare get so close to the Great Bayou. The days of refuge there were over. Yeah, sure, there were still plenty of fucking pirates and smugglers who lucked out. Hid there for many days and weeks and even months without incident. But that just made it even more godsdamned spooky, didn't it? Who knew if the...the thing would come for you? It was out there, of course it was. Hence the legend. But why even risk it? Why?
The woman was insane. He thought that of all Monster Slayers, sure, but this one especially. She was like a flower made of iron, or something much like that. Quiet and shy during the voyage, hardly making eye contact with any of the crew. Sitting by herself in the mess. Stuttering when she spoke. His first mate, Arthur, bumped into her once on accident and apologized and all that but he said the woman had the worst case of the shakes he'd seen. Trembling like some green soldier on the front line of his first battle or something.
But when she spoke of monsters. Like back in his office in Alliria or when he asked her during the voyage how she came about getting those troll scalps. She...well, she was different. Took on a whole new demeanor.
Dax almost felt bad for taking her money. The amount, anyhow. It was a short enough trip south to the Great Bayou, and he had even doubled up and decided to also make a 'trade' run to one of the port cities serving Belgrath off to the east after he was done dropping her off. He had toyed with the idea of refunding her a good portion of the coin so she would have paid a more reasonable rate.
He decided against it. Some small biting feeling that, somehow, this rare kindness welling up in him would not be received by her in the way he expected it to be from a more...normal person.
The deckhands had prepared the landing skiff to be lowered. And Dax watched as the woman boarded it, and a few of his bravest sailors boarded with her to row toward the Great Bayou shore. Insane. That woman. Surely. She'd even specifically asked to be dropped off near the last known sighting of the Night Runner. Infamous pirate ship. Storied history. Long line of notable captains helming her. Then, all within the last month, the Night Runner was found near to this very shore. Completely abandoned. No sign of the crew. Nothing at all. And then the Night Runner herself disappeared. The whole godsdamned ship. No sign of it either. Insane. That woman.
Dax watched the skiff being lowered out of sight. Watched as it reappeared smaller down in the waters over the edge of his vessel as it made way toward the distant shore.
And he had no idea how she was going to get back. She didn't ask for a pick-up from the Great Bayou, nor did Dax offer it.
Tempting fate once was one too many times to partake in such foolishness for him.
Lazule walked.
By day she walked and by night she slept by the warmth and comfort of her campfire. The flora was thick in the swamp. The insects prolific. She held in her left hand as she walked a cantrip of Luminomancy, a condescended ball of coalesced daylight, brilliant and radiant like a tiny sun. It tempted the insects that otherwise would have bothered her to it. Burned them in little bursts and flashes once they touched the magic. A simple spell to maintain, though it left her sweating by the end of day.
A spell, perhaps, to make herself known to the monster or monsters that may yet lurk beyond the sagging branches of the trees and the hanging strands of moss and the like.
By the fifth day, she found a small settlement. Humans and some elves. All of the village spoke with a heavily accented Common. Some of the rare denizens of the Bayou. None knew of the Bayou Bone Eater, nor of the Night Runner. Being far enough inland, no one in the village had even seen a pirate or smuggler in ages, though they knew of the Bayou's reputation for them.
Lazule restocked on rations and water and thanked the villagers for their hospitality and moved on.
And Lazule walked.
The sound of many a strange animal about her during the day and the sounds of animals stranger still during the night. A plan. Failing to find any sign of an abnormal creature, she ought to perhaps seek out any pirates or smugglers using the Bayou as a hideaway. The inlets and channels of the Bayou were plenty, and likely to be housing some number of them.
This, if the legend was indeed true. If the misfortune of the Night Runner and other such vessels and their occupants weren't attributed to a thing of fiction instead of a thing of fact.
The dawn of the seventh day. A bright, sunny day. A good omen. The clouds and the rains of days past had gone, and she could bask in what light filtered down from the canopy above. Use it, should she be so lucky, to slay what monsters she may yet come to find. Whether they be of legend or not.
For they must all be destroyed.
And she was that which brought about the reckoning.
Her righteous task. So demanded of her.
And Lazule walked.
Rebecca Fourtuna
"There hides a monster," Lazule said. Her brow narrowed. The look in her eye intense. "As it is said in the legend."
"Yes. My point exactly," said the smuggler. Throwing a hand up dismissively. Leaning back into his chair and looking back down at the parchments before him on the desk. The facade of being a legitimate Allirian harbormaster. The rough men who stood to either side of Lazule stepped forward. Closer to her. Their intent to escort her out of the office.
Undeterred, Lazule said to the smuggler, "The Bayou Bone Eater."
The smuggler flinched and looked about wildly as if some manner of ghost had slipped by before his eyes. He looked to Lazule then and snapped a finger to his lips and shushed loudly. "Not so fucking loud, woman! Godsdamn it, they say it's bad luck to even mention that name! I'll not have my men cursed on account of your recklessness. You wouldn't understand unless you yourself were a sailor, but I say to you that there is no such thing as superstition on the high seas. How can I put it?" The smuggler thought for a moment. "The seas are a place of respect. And respect must be rendered. To the natural and to the things beyond the natural. Lest you and all your crew are made to sail straight down to the ocean floor, joining the rest of the foolish seafarers who failed in paying their dues of proper respect."
"How much?"
"What?"
Lazule said again, "How much?"
"How much what?"
"How much is your price for providing fare for me to Bayou Garramarisma?"
The smuggler laughed and tossed his arms up and glanced to the two men next to Lazule and they too chuckled. But the smuggler facetiously named an exorbitant price. The confidence in his voice clear: that she would not raise such a sum.
* * * * *
Alliria. The same harbor office. The same smuggler. The same two lackeys he had before. Some two weeks later.
Lazule pushed opened the door to his office. Two canvas sacks, one in each hand. She walked up to his desk even as the two rough men approached her apprehensively. The smuggler looked up from the manifest in his hands, his brow furrowed in bewilderment.
And Lazule tossed the bag in her right hand up onto his desk. The heavy clinking of coin inside. The bag sliding and sinking as the coin inside settled, its flaps open to reveal the crowns within.
Silence. Slack-jawed silence from the smuggler and from his two men.
"Woman," the smuggler said slowly, "I'm more than happy to take your money. I am. Trust me. But...and I can't believe I'm saying this...but I cannot in good conscience take you to--"
Lazule lifted the bag in her left hand and pulled something fleshy free from it and the stench became immediately potent as soon as the grim thing was freed from the confines of the canvas. She dropped the bag and tossed the green and reeking thing onto the desk next to the bag of coin.
The smuggler recoiled and brought his arm across his face to cover his nose. "Gods! What the hell is that?"
"The scalp of a troll. I've more, should you want to see."
The smuggler looked from the scalp to Lazule to the scalp and to Lazule again. He lowered his arm slightly. His voice hardly above a whisper. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Bayou Garramarisma," Lazule said. "I shall find the Bayou Bone Eater. And kill it. If the monster so exists, I shall bring you a piece of it. So you needn't pay homage to a false idol any longer."
* * * * *
The smuggler, Dax, guided his ship close to the shore on the eastern side of the Great Bayou. Not too close. Hell no. Practically, he couldn't bring his large trade vessel close to the shallow shore, but spiritually, he wouldn't dare get so close to the Great Bayou. The days of refuge there were over. Yeah, sure, there were still plenty of fucking pirates and smugglers who lucked out. Hid there for many days and weeks and even months without incident. But that just made it even more godsdamned spooky, didn't it? Who knew if the...the thing would come for you? It was out there, of course it was. Hence the legend. But why even risk it? Why?
The woman was insane. He thought that of all Monster Slayers, sure, but this one especially. She was like a flower made of iron, or something much like that. Quiet and shy during the voyage, hardly making eye contact with any of the crew. Sitting by herself in the mess. Stuttering when she spoke. His first mate, Arthur, bumped into her once on accident and apologized and all that but he said the woman had the worst case of the shakes he'd seen. Trembling like some green soldier on the front line of his first battle or something.
But when she spoke of monsters. Like back in his office in Alliria or when he asked her during the voyage how she came about getting those troll scalps. She...well, she was different. Took on a whole new demeanor.
Dax almost felt bad for taking her money. The amount, anyhow. It was a short enough trip south to the Great Bayou, and he had even doubled up and decided to also make a 'trade' run to one of the port cities serving Belgrath off to the east after he was done dropping her off. He had toyed with the idea of refunding her a good portion of the coin so she would have paid a more reasonable rate.
He decided against it. Some small biting feeling that, somehow, this rare kindness welling up in him would not be received by her in the way he expected it to be from a more...normal person.
The deckhands had prepared the landing skiff to be lowered. And Dax watched as the woman boarded it, and a few of his bravest sailors boarded with her to row toward the Great Bayou shore. Insane. That woman. Surely. She'd even specifically asked to be dropped off near the last known sighting of the Night Runner. Infamous pirate ship. Storied history. Long line of notable captains helming her. Then, all within the last month, the Night Runner was found near to this very shore. Completely abandoned. No sign of the crew. Nothing at all. And then the Night Runner herself disappeared. The whole godsdamned ship. No sign of it either. Insane. That woman.
Dax watched the skiff being lowered out of sight. Watched as it reappeared smaller down in the waters over the edge of his vessel as it made way toward the distant shore.
And he had no idea how she was going to get back. She didn't ask for a pick-up from the Great Bayou, nor did Dax offer it.
Tempting fate once was one too many times to partake in such foolishness for him.
* * * * *
Lazule walked.
By day she walked and by night she slept by the warmth and comfort of her campfire. The flora was thick in the swamp. The insects prolific. She held in her left hand as she walked a cantrip of Luminomancy, a condescended ball of coalesced daylight, brilliant and radiant like a tiny sun. It tempted the insects that otherwise would have bothered her to it. Burned them in little bursts and flashes once they touched the magic. A simple spell to maintain, though it left her sweating by the end of day.
A spell, perhaps, to make herself known to the monster or monsters that may yet lurk beyond the sagging branches of the trees and the hanging strands of moss and the like.
By the fifth day, she found a small settlement. Humans and some elves. All of the village spoke with a heavily accented Common. Some of the rare denizens of the Bayou. None knew of the Bayou Bone Eater, nor of the Night Runner. Being far enough inland, no one in the village had even seen a pirate or smuggler in ages, though they knew of the Bayou's reputation for them.
Lazule restocked on rations and water and thanked the villagers for their hospitality and moved on.
And Lazule walked.
The sound of many a strange animal about her during the day and the sounds of animals stranger still during the night. A plan. Failing to find any sign of an abnormal creature, she ought to perhaps seek out any pirates or smugglers using the Bayou as a hideaway. The inlets and channels of the Bayou were plenty, and likely to be housing some number of them.
This, if the legend was indeed true. If the misfortune of the Night Runner and other such vessels and their occupants weren't attributed to a thing of fiction instead of a thing of fact.
The dawn of the seventh day. A bright, sunny day. A good omen. The clouds and the rains of days past had gone, and she could bask in what light filtered down from the canopy above. Use it, should she be so lucky, to slay what monsters she may yet come to find. Whether they be of legend or not.
For they must all be destroyed.
And she was that which brought about the reckoning.
Her righteous task. So demanded of her.
And Lazule walked.
Rebecca Fourtuna
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