Blanche stared down at the lifeless face of her beloved. Memories of their life together flashed through her mind, the sights, scents, and sounds coming to her as if she was really there, reliving moments of bliss. They met when Arthur’s family moved to Broadcove from a village further inland when Arthur was twelve. Blanche was just shy of her twelfth birthday when she met the red-haired, gangly boy playing on the rocky beach during one of the few clear days in late fall. They were inseparable after that, and, by the time they reached their majority, were madly in love. They had only been wed two years before the pirates sacked their village and took them captive.
She stroked his cold face, smoothing out his beard and picking bits of dirt and debris from it. There was nothing she wouldn’t do to bring him back—and, barring that, there was nothing she wouldn’t do to join him on the other side. Blanche squeezed her eyes tightly shut, tears budding in the corners and sliding in thick rivulets down her cheeks. Her mind screamed a single word: “Why!” But no answer was forthcoming.
Slowly, as if witnessing the sun rising from below the horizon, a light penetrated her eyelids. A warmth, like that of the summer sea breeze, caressed her cheek, drying her tears. A touch on her shoulder startled her, but she did not open her eyes. Poppy meant well, she knew, but she couldn’t bear to look at anyone or anything that reminded her of the happier times, before the pirates.
“My child,” a soft, motherly whispered in her ear. “My child.”
Blanche’s mother, she assumed, had died in the pirate raid, and was certainly not on this gods-forsaken island. Perhaps she was going crazy in her grief, she considered. The grip on her shoulder tightened, making her cry out. Her eyes fluttered open and then snapped shut again as the radiance filled her retinas.
“Who are you?” she whispered, her voice hoarse from crying.
“Open your eyes, child,” the voice said softly.
Blanche felt compelled to obey. Her eyes opened, and she beheld a woman draped in fishing nets and sail cloth crowned with anemones and barnacles. The woman’s face was striking: sharp cheekbones and aquiline, hawk-like nose positioned over full lips the color of lavender. Her eyes were piercing aquamarine shot through with silver, like the tossing waves.
“Who are you?” Blanche repeated, now in awe of the figure crouching by her.
The woman stood, her body elongating until she towered over Blanche. Seldom did Blanche feel small, standing at a height that few among her folk attained, but before the stately woman she felt positively child-like.
“Do you not know? Can you not guess?”
Blanche’s mind swirled. The memories were just beyond her grasp, pushed out by the continual vision of her beloved being impaled by a cruel Goblin spear. The woman touched a finger to Blanche’s forehead and, suddenly, her memory clarified.
“Oë?” The reply came out as a question.
“So you do know me,” the august figure said, smiling.
Blanche’s eyes went wide as she saw the rows of razor sharp teeth behind the goddess’ lips.
“I am the lady of storms, mistress of the breaking waves, lightning bringer, thunder singer, and I have appeared to you because you, like me, know the pain and weight of loss. Might we join together and bring about the destruction of those who took what was ours?”
“I don’t understand,” Blanche said, her heart suddenly pounding.
“I will grant you power to exact vengeance upon our enemies. I am going to destroy this island in two days with hammering waves, until it no longer floats above the waves. I will bring it down into the depths of the sea. But that is too easy a death for the murderers of your mate, and for the defilers of my beloved temple. Open the book you recovered from the pirates’ chest.”
Blanche lifted the book and opened it. The contents were still beyond her comprehension, though she had come to the conclusion that the book was magical in nature. The goddess leaned down again, touching the tip of her long finger to Blanche’s forehead. As the innkeeper gazed at the page before her, the words began to move and glow. When they were finished, she could, much to her surprise, understand it.
“This book is a spell book. The pirates took it from some luckless magician, but now it has fallen into your hands. This spell is for the purification of defiled food and drink, but I will teach you to reverse the spell. You will go under the cover of night to the camp of the goblins and poison their food and water. When they eat it, they will become sick. Most will die and your beloved will be avenged. Will you do this?”
Anger replaced the overwhelming sadness in Blanche’s heart, burning the cold, icy hands of loss away and replacing them with a fiery need to exact vengeance. “I am your servant, great Oë.”1
The knowledge of how to cast the spell, and its reverse, coalesced like a watery cloud in Blanche’s head and she felt the surge of the goddess’ power flow through her. She leaned down and kissed Arthur’s forehead, then stood. The goddess dematerialized in front of her, but the power she conveyed continued to thrum in Blanche’s veins.
Bertram and Poppy returned not long after, carrying a bucket filled with water and some scraggly rags. Blanche walked up to Poppy and embraced her tightly. Poppy, caught off guard, gasped.
“Thank you, my friend,” Blanche whispered. She pulled away and looked up at Bertram. “Thank you, Bertram. Do not blame yourself for Arthur’s death, it is not your fault. Come, I must speak with you…in private.”
Bertram and Poppy eyed the oddly rejuvenated Blanche with a mix of wonder and concern. They followed her to the far side of the cavernous hall of the goddess, out of Keestake’s earshot. The torch guttered, in a gentle breeze creeping through a crack in the wall.
“What is it, Blanche?” Poppy asked, concern lacing her tone.
“I had a vision.”
Poppy looked to Bertram. The big man shrugged.
“A vision?” Poppy repeated.
“The goddess appeared to me. She warned me that she was going to destroy this island in two days’ time. We have to find a way off the island before then.”
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Poppy asked.
“I am positive,” she replied. “We have to get off this island.”
“Did I hear you say the goddess plans to destroy the island?” Keestake called from across the room.
The three survivors looked at one another, stunned that the old man’s ears were so sharp. “Aye, Blanche says the goddess appeared to her and warned her of the impending doom.”
“I know a way off the island,” the old man said. “It is in the bowels of my master’s mansion, in the place where his treasures lie. I can show you the way.”
“By all means, let us go now!” Bertram said.
“No, no, not now,” Keestake said, calmly. “It is too close to nightfall. We must go in the morning, before the goblins and orcs are on the prowl again.”
“Very well,” Bertram answered. “In the meantime, let us cleanse the goddess’ statue and get some rest.”
Fate Check (CF5): Will the party wait? Likely (+1) on 2d10 = 11, yes
As they cleaned the grime from the statue, one small barnacle glittered brightly in Blanche’s sight. She touched it and a small pearl fell free from the marble. In her head she heard the words “Take now this, my symbol. Wield it to pour out the power I have bestowed upon you.”2
Blanche held it tight, feeling the warmth of the goddess’ presence against her palm. Her resolve to do as the goddess desired redoubled and she began to plan her foray down to the stables.
Blanche attains 1st Level as a Cleric of Oë [HP5; AC10; S9, D14, C13, INT16, WIS14, CHA14; AL CN).
DM NOTE: I decided playing as 0 Level characters is kind of boring. It was fun and tense at first, but the party has gone through some serious hardship and I think its time to reward them for their suffering. Blanche received 1st Level because it seemed fun and fit with the nature of Oë to offer power for the sake of vengeance. The others will receive their level up and class soon.
This pearl is Blanche’s holy symbol, the catalyst for the goddess’ power.
Great job again Eric. I feel so sorry for Blanche and I understand why she wants revenge but will the Goddess demand more and more from her???