Exhibit 4: "Rogue"

What do you know! That was it!

We said our goodbyes, grim and brief though they might've been, and then the four of us barely-acquaintances were off on the road together. Through mine and Cora's joint efforts, we managed to keep things fairly light. Keelo was a bit, y'know, trepidatious about the whole thing, standin' so close to Promise, who they didn't trust one lick. Promise, for his part, seemed pretty nonchalant.

God, I still remember the air that day. Constance's grave wasn't even cold, and the sun was shining fierce mild—little Rimaturan phrase for ya. Might've been a warning sign, since it was early fall, but I was just enjoying the feel on my skin, and the company of interesting new companions.

There's something to be said about unexpected, stupendous violence in one of the prettiest locales you've seen grace this rock we float on. Places where the planes bleed into our world are downright spellbinding, and this piece does nothing to capture that, but I gave it my best shot anyway. You've got the four of us here, blades drawn, facing down a horde of ogres. I may have exaggerated the scale this time, but you can trust this is the only time. I'm proud of the lighting in this one; if it didn't capture the beauty of the fey, it got the shine of my rapier to the letter.

The travel was nothing at all that first day, especially the village didn't have horses to spare, but we did manage to reach the edge of a forest. We had a year, after all; no need to rush. We wondered if it was a year to the day, or if things would start falling apart before then. Logistically, they'd have to, right? There isn't just a single harvest day, some things grow faster than others. Would not a single thing sprout? It couldn't just have been us who knew—did other Harvest clerics get a message? Were there others out there searching for the Scythe? Why us? Why Solas Domum, a little divot in the road so small you'd only notice it after picking it off the bottom of your boot? Was there something else going on here?

Yeah, well, we asked most of those. We camped in a little clearing, passing around the map Constance handed us right before the godly garrote. It was almost blank, with just an outline of the continent, and a few dots along the way.

She wasn't entirely clear where we'd find the Scythe, or what form we'd find it in. Sharp? Big? God forbid, small? We'd have to scour entire cities or swathes of wilderness for something that, for all we knew, could fit in the palm of my hand.

Thought a lot about Constance that night. Very Strongly Worded. They let me hold onto the map.

I was curled up on the wall of the little rocky hole we'd found for ourselves, staring into the fire Promise started with his bare hand, when I heard rustling leaves. We tensed, shifting toward the dark—glinting spears and arrowheads stared back, slowly closing in. An elven tribe, not takin' kindly to intruders.

It was pretty easy to come to peace. We explained our mission, they bought it easily enough, but they said we had to complete a trial to be allowed to pass. That was how we found ourselves in our second cave of the night, only this one wasn't so accommodating.

I managed to take the head off an animated suit of armor with my shiny new sword, which was harder than it should've been. It was our first fight as a group, so of course Cora stepped on my toes, which tripped me into the thing's stupid strong arms. It almost had my spine crushed against it, but I just sorta jabbed upward, underneath its visor, and the helmet soared off; the whole thing collapsed right after. Not hardly a first kill, but I counted it. Carried the helmet around for a bit.

The door it guarded led into a wide open chamber, with strangely green plant life growing thick and lush. Wasn't no sun gettin' in, so we took closer looks; I did, mostly. My impulse control's always been shit, but when even Cora's taking a step back and looking around suspiciously, that should be an alarm bell.

I didn't see. Fey magic made sure of that—I was too focused on one little flower. It was the grossest feeling, like I was being gripped by my veins and pulled down to it, but I just thought it was pretty at the time. Some rogue I am, not even checkin' for traps.

Well, that rattled me a bit, so I panicked and stuffed it in my pack. Promise didn't like the look of the growing light from the area, and I had the feeling it was because of my fuck-up. They all saw, naturally, but I still tossed it to the ground all stealthy-like.

The trees and vines and roots didn't take kindly to it. Recurring thing here, it seems. They creaked to life, thrashing against us and snaring us against walls and themselves, and it took everything we had to fight our way out.

There was a whole situation with a pixie, who was the real guardian. She was vicious; snatched Keelo with some vines and lashed 'em to the far wall. Chewed 'em out about disturbing the plants, which was my fault anyway, but we cut through the rest to get them back. Apparently, that was the trial: would we abandon our friend, or not? We didn't, so we passed.

It was a sort of bitter thing: Viola had told me to bring her a piece of the first thing I killed with my sword. I even gave the sword a name, but… just feels silly now. First two things I valiantly vanquished were some metal and some plants, and they weren't even bad guys, they were just doin' their jobs. Another recurring thing.

After some more buffoonery, we got outta dodge, told the tribe all about it. Their leader's name was Mailee, and she told us we passed—and a young girl in the forest was on death's door because of the flower I picked. Her life force was tied to it, apparently, but the flower could be coaxed back to life, and so could she.

That was not a first day of adventure feeling to have. I was glad she was alright—relative to dead, anyhow—but it was just an unnecessary thing. Wasn't no child death in Lucky Trail. It was just a damn flower.

Mailee took us to the family's tent. Kid's name was Charissa, and she looked like a stone, but she was alive. Keelo made a walking toy, imbued it with some healing magic and had it tap her on the head. It was a token gesture, but not wasted; Charissa's brother's face lit up when she woke up, and they played with the little wooden thing and chased Keelo around. Their ma was certainly grateful.

Elbereth told us it was all part of a ritual sacrifice sort of thing the tribe did. Extra stakes for the trials, as far as I understood it—she'd been linked to a flower as a kid. She lost me pretty early in the explanation, because I couldn't hear her over the boiling in my ears.

And during that whole ordeal, I was struck by the irony of it, the cycle I'd perpetuated. Here's another inquisitive kid, brushed with death at an early age, now too afraid to think about it any further. I caused that, whether I meant to or not. The shadows hadn't been literal this time, but they crept into her brain and made a home nonetheless. She looked like a ghost the whole day—resurrection hangover's a bitch. I could barely look at her. I showed her some of my paints afterward to make up for it.

Thankfully, Elbereth was fed up with it too; didn't feel great about her daughter going catatonic in the middle of arts and crafts. She was taking the kids and leaving, and we knew exactly the place to send her. Since it was only a day's walk, we had Promise escort them back to Solas, along with the helmet for Viola. I wish I'd gotten to see her smile at that. Cora and I picked out an acacia tree for good sap, and I slathered one of Constance's eyelashes from my pouch with it for invisibility—this was an important one, so I wanted all my ingredients in a row.

I'm told Promise got swept into overthrowing the governor during the trip, but that's a story for another time. Point is, they got here safe, and Solas is a much better place because of it. I see all three of 'em in the crowd right now. Hope I didn't scare ya too bad.

Still, it wasn't a great feeling. I'd seen too many kids have the hope and gentleness in their eyes extinguished in real time—hell, I was one of 'em. I didn't want to let that happen again if I could help it.

Fortunately for me, I'm the luckiest son of a gun this side of the Simple Creek, so of course it did.

GALLERY OF FORTUNE SIMPLECREEK—RECEIPT—9/18/1316

EXHIBIT #4: "ROGUE" SOLD TO ELBERETH EVADERE (70 GP)