The Falwood was everything everyone always said it was. Verdant and full of life. A sea of green as far as the eye could see. Ferns and moss among the trees, large mushrooms growing between roots far older than Izara herself. It was the exact opposite of home, or what she used to call home back in Amol-Kalit. A desert of golden sand and the bluest skies one would ever see. Never a cloud in the sky. The sun was bright and warm as it was imposing and terrifying.
The sun that caressed Izzy’s dark skin was nothing like the rays the desert produced. It was soft, gentle— like a kiss from one of the fluttering butterflies dancing about. It suited this heavily forested area, and Izzy was certain that everyone she met within the Falwood would be just like the sun overhead. Gentle, soft, and unsuspecting. The perfect targets that had valuable things that needed to be stolen! Or rather, a locked up temple that was begging someone to explore.
Her black ears twitched in anticipation as she found the first little village within the Falwood. The elves were, as expected, rather welcoming to Izara. Perhaps because she wasn’t completely human, and of course, she made sure to keep hidden that DJ was from a little racist backwater city called Vel Ehn. The deeper they went into the woods however, the less friendly the elves tended to be. Regardless, Izara managed to gather the information she needed, the one little piece of info Crowlin was unable to discover— which was because the woman was afraid of the outside world and actually speaking to others.
All Crowlin could tell Izara was that there was a particular weapon in the Falwood, in a temple deemed inaccessible and lost to human time. The elves would know the story of the Temple of Roses, protected for centuries by believers of beauty. And those who love roses must be prepared to cry when they are cut by thorns.
“DJ, in here.” Izara told her buddy, the only one willing to traverse the Falwood practically without much direction. The letai female’s tail was twitching, much like her ears as she entered into another inn, named Syltumil Lodge. What did Syltumil mean? Who knew? Izzy couldn’t even write her own name much less figure out elvish. Regardless, she was hopeful that here, she could place the last pieces together and tomorrow, she could go out and go to the Temple of Roses. After all, there was a long-lost weapon just dying for her to find and resell.
Besides, Izzy was no superb archer. And why on Arethilwould she want a bundle of long pointy roses that turned the pierced into a rose bush? But Izzy knew, there was someone who would want such a thing, a magical item so deadly and heavily coveted that they would pay any amount of gold to have it. Sure, she had heard rumors about those that entered the temple were cursed by some guardian called the Black Baccara. The warning would do little to dissuade her, not because she found a magical item so appealing. It was the gold that Izzy wanted— she needed another pair of toenail clippers. Her other five pairs just weren’t cutting it anymore.
Finding an empty table at the inn, Izzy made a show of sitting down, waving over a young elvish boy who worked there. For now, it was time to blend in with the locals and gather some food and drink. Her stomach growled.
The sun that caressed Izzy’s dark skin was nothing like the rays the desert produced. It was soft, gentle— like a kiss from one of the fluttering butterflies dancing about. It suited this heavily forested area, and Izzy was certain that everyone she met within the Falwood would be just like the sun overhead. Gentle, soft, and unsuspecting. The perfect targets that had valuable things that needed to be stolen! Or rather, a locked up temple that was begging someone to explore.
Her black ears twitched in anticipation as she found the first little village within the Falwood. The elves were, as expected, rather welcoming to Izara. Perhaps because she wasn’t completely human, and of course, she made sure to keep hidden that DJ was from a little racist backwater city called Vel Ehn. The deeper they went into the woods however, the less friendly the elves tended to be. Regardless, Izara managed to gather the information she needed, the one little piece of info Crowlin was unable to discover— which was because the woman was afraid of the outside world and actually speaking to others.
All Crowlin could tell Izara was that there was a particular weapon in the Falwood, in a temple deemed inaccessible and lost to human time. The elves would know the story of the Temple of Roses, protected for centuries by believers of beauty. And those who love roses must be prepared to cry when they are cut by thorns.
“DJ, in here.” Izara told her buddy, the only one willing to traverse the Falwood practically without much direction. The letai female’s tail was twitching, much like her ears as she entered into another inn, named Syltumil Lodge. What did Syltumil mean? Who knew? Izzy couldn’t even write her own name much less figure out elvish. Regardless, she was hopeful that here, she could place the last pieces together and tomorrow, she could go out and go to the Temple of Roses. After all, there was a long-lost weapon just dying for her to find and resell.
Besides, Izzy was no superb archer. And why on Arethilwould she want a bundle of long pointy roses that turned the pierced into a rose bush? But Izzy knew, there was someone who would want such a thing, a magical item so deadly and heavily coveted that they would pay any amount of gold to have it. Sure, she had heard rumors about those that entered the temple were cursed by some guardian called the Black Baccara. The warning would do little to dissuade her, not because she found a magical item so appealing. It was the gold that Izzy wanted— she needed another pair of toenail clippers. Her other five pairs just weren’t cutting it anymore.
Finding an empty table at the inn, Izzy made a show of sitting down, waving over a young elvish boy who worked there. For now, it was time to blend in with the locals and gather some food and drink. Her stomach growled.
