Escape from Anebrilith

[Sagequeen]

Solo. Events take place after "The Spinner's Web."

The height of noon brought with it the brilliant light that filtered through the leaves of Concordia Forest like the translucent stained glass of a lovingly-adorned temple. Erissa sat upon the ground in awe of the verdant beauty, a sylvan wonder the likes of which she could only dream when she resided in Anebrilith. There, she dared not venture into the Red Forest, and rarely did she venture outside of Caedron Hall, her father's home.

Erissa shuddered as she imagined the wrath of her father at her hasty departure. The young elf would have harbored guilt that her mother bore the brunt of his anger - had she not been a co-conspirator in her husband's manipulations. Her mother's passivity concerning the events in their lives fully implicated her in Erissa's assessment. The anger she could not abandon grew within her again; she had been blind, betrayed by all those around her. She expected it from her father, and to a much lesser extent from her mother. However, the acts of her servant were a stark blindside that shook her world to its core.

Having decided that there was no place for her in Anebrilith, Erissa had willingly gone from the very lap of luxury to sleeping on the ground in a few short weeks, and her stomach rumbled constantly as the food quickly spoiled on the road north from Serenti. It was purely good fortune that in the current time of year the fields of southern Corone brought forth a variety of foods she quietly and regretfully pilfered for subsistence. The same fortune abandoned her beneath the eaves of Concordia and her hunger was perpetual, never sated by the wild berries and bitter roots she found therein.

Erissa forced the barrage of thoughts from her mind and focused instead on the emerald leaf in her hands. Almost imperceptibly, the leaf trembled, though the high elf remained as still as stone. Not a breath of wind was upon her skin in the moments that followed, but the leaf flipped from her cupped hands and floated gently to the ground. Satisfied, Erissa quickly rose and shook the debris from the cloak she had spread beneath herself. The budding arcanist took a deep breath and wondered at herself; the new powers she had recently acquired were very foreign to her. She had not yet become intimate with her abilities and the practice of them left her feeling alien.

The sun began its descent beyond the canopy of the forest as Erissa wrapped the cloak around her diminutive frame. The cloth was rough and irritated her bare arms, but her fine attire would only attract the type of attention she did not want. The master tailor regretted not purchasing different clothing during her month's stay in Serenti, but at that time she could not bring herself to discard her wardrobe. She walked with her head down, studying the elven songbook she'd taken from her father's extensive library as she made her way back to the nearby road. After a few moments, Erissa began quietly singing in rhythm with her footsteps as she walked.

Her feet ached and her body hurt. The traveling song she sang did somewhat bolster her resolve, but Erissa was painfully exhausted. Underwood was her destination, and she had remained on foot since leaving the boat that carried her from her native home of Raiaera. A handsome price Erissa had payed to secure a private cabin; she spent the journey across the sea in solitude. When she had arrived in Corone, indecision and a longing for familiarity had kept her in the southern port town of Serenti for so long.

At mid-afternoon, the high elf breached the outskirts of Underwood. The town was alive and populated with people of all sorts; newcomers were not unusual here and she rarely endured more than a moment's scrutiny from wary and watchful eyes. Erissa kept her head down and trudged forward, searching for a place to rest and eat. She was relieved when she found her way to the local tavern, The Peaceful Promenade. Attempting to remain inconspicuous, she took stock of the patrons as they arrived and went. None seemed overly threatening, so Erissa steeled herself as she stepped quickly and lightly across the path to the doors of the establishment. She slipped in through a barely opened door and took the first open seat against the wall she could find. The tavern was more populated than she would like, though it could have been much worse. The patrons were only beginning their warm-up for the evening rowdiness, and Erissa intended to find an inn before then.

She slipped the hood of her cloak back so that it rested on her shoulders. The light from the window behind her created a glowing halo as her silver hair caught the light, though the back-lit quality of it somewhat obscured her features. A waitress bustled to her table.

“What'll ya 'ave?” She asked with a friendly smile that well suited her rotund face.

“Wine, if you have it. If you offer a meal, I will have that as well,” Erissa said quietly.

“Just so happens we got both,” said the waitress. “How 'bout our special?”

“Thank you,” Erissa said with a grateful nod. Several minutes later, the waitress returned with her wine and a bowl of stew. Erissa looked around nervously as the waitress stood near her in uncomfortable silence.

"You've money to pay, I 'ope?" The waitress shifted her weight to her other leg and jutted out her generous hip. Embarrassed, Erissa quickly removed the coins from her satchel; to the plump woman's pleasant surprise, Erissa tipped generously. With an extra spring in her step she whisked away to the next table.

Erissa gingerly dipped her spoon into the stew and dared to stir it. The clumps of meat and brown vegetables floated in a steaming, gelatinous gravy. Slicks of spicy red grease had already formed on the skim; it was a far cry from her normal fare. She considered sending it back, but the immediate demand of her hunger would not allow such a thing. In spite of its appearance, Erissa found the stew to be very satisfying, even rather tasty. She sopped the last of the gravy from the bowl with a bit of crusty bread and savored the spicy warmth that lingered in the back of her throat.

The petite elf pushed the empty bowl to the opposite edge of the table and removed her songbook from her satchel. She lay it on the table and hunched over it, taking care to make herself appear busy. From time to time a raucous would arise, but for the most part she was ignored by the patrons who seemed unfazed by low-profile strangers in their tavern.

[Sagequeen]

The Peaceful Promenade was a vivacious place, bedecked with trophies of the hunt and an impressive collection of various clay, glass, and metal vessels in all shapes and sizes. The walls were covered in subdued vertical brown and dun stripes that met a cherry wood wainscoting. The chairs she thought gaudy but liked them nevertheless, the salmon velvet cushions contrasting the cherry wood frames, all held in place by ornate gold-colored nails. It was nothing like her home, and while Erissa was slightly uncomfortable, she was very curious.

Undisturbed, Erissa stayed in the tavern. Her songbook lay before her though her gaze was focused on the interesting array of characters in the large room. Never had she seen such a mix of people, nor had she ever witnessed such an uninhibited display of voice and movement. She ordered another glass of wine and sipped it slowly. The day was faded and her face illuminated by the candle on the table before her. Voices were raised in a boisterous chorus of some local drinking song, and in the far corner, the singers raised their mugs high in the air.

"To the resistance!" They toasted, glasses clanking and globules of foamy ale raining down on them. An extravaganza of deafening shouts filled the tavern. The night brought with it an influx of patrons, and Erissa felt slightly overwhelmed. She drained her glass of wine and packed away her book, preparing to leave, but was interrupted.

"Have we met before?" The stranger asked. Erissa looked up sharply, peering into the face of a high elf she had never seen before in her life.

"I think not," she replied, tossing a coin on the table and standing. She took a step for the door but the stranger sidestepped and blocked her.

"You're right," he said. "I would remember such enchanting beauty." He gave a devilish smile and flipped the side of his cape over his shoulder in a pronounced flourish. With another ridiculous gesture he puffed his chest and combed his long brown hair away from his cheek as he displayed his refined elven profile for her.

"If you will excuse me," Erissa began, but he would not let her finish. Still flashing his toothy smile, he continued.

"Indeed, it is rare to see a lady of such class and refinement in such a place as this. Perhaps the lady would appreciate company of the same sort?" Erissa rolled her eyes at him - much to her own great surprise; many had been the suitors who pursued her, though her father's station demanded she act with dignity. Feeling strangely mirthful, she spoke.

"Indeed I would. And where might I find such?" Erissa's veiled insult was not lost on him, but he brushed it aside.

"Why, right here, Mi'lady," the stranger said as he bowed. Erissa noticed several tables away a group of men had grown quiet and watched intently. They looked away quickly as her gaze fell across them.

"Does that line actually work?" Erissa asked, eyebrow raised. "I wonder because I am not from here. You see, I am a high elf of the ancient city of Anebrilith, daughter to a High Bard Councillor. Such clumsy forwardness is rather unbecoming in a potential suitor and I am unused to it." The stranger was for once speechless and backed away, mumbling an apology.

Erissa smiled sweetly and slipped out of the tavern for some fresh air; she decided it was time to find an inn. The streets were sparsely populated and a cool breeze lingered in the folds of her cloak.

"Oh, no!" Erissa said, slapping a palm to her forehead. Her staff was still in the tavern, left behind in her haste. Hoping the pompous stranger would not mark her return, she entered the tavern again, only to be met with the beginnings of a brawl. It started in the far corner, and spread quickly to engulf the central area. Erissa hurried toward where she had been seated.

The blow came from behind, knocking her to the ground. The full weight of the large man who had been tossed in her direction squeezed the breath out of her, and she struggled to get out from under him.

[Sagequeen]

The weight was incredible and the man was out cold. His sweaty stench engulfed and clung to her. Erissa wriggled forward, all the dignity she possessed quickly hemorrhaging. She managed to laboriously slip from beneath the dead weight and remained on her hands and knees as she moved forward.

“Hungh!” She cried as a one of the patrons tripped over her. Erissa was reeling in the mayhem but spied her goal. Her staff lay on the ground nearby, knocked from where she had rested it earlier. The high elf scurried across the floor, avoiding the broken glass and plates. A bowl sailed high above the brawl; a cascade of lumpy gravy and chewed gristle arced from the bowl as they moved in concerted grandeur, pirouetting in the air. She was drenched with a final inglorious splatter.

So this is life beyond my home? She thought to herself as she closed the short gap between her and her staff. Relieved to have her hands on it, Erissa backed against the wall. The tavern was an incredible mess. Tables were upturned, some of the chairs were in splinters on the floor. She watched in shock as the men and women turned on each other, the very same that had been best of friends minutes before.

“Break it up! I’ll arrest the lot o’ ya,” came a voice above the din. Erissa was relieved to see a uniform. “Save that energy for the Empire!” Several other guards rushed in, and in the presence of the lawmen, the brawl died quickly. Erissa took her opportunity and edged toward the door. As the guards were busy helping patrons to their feet and sorting out the whole mess, she slipped out the door and onto the streets of Underwood, which were mostly empty with two hours till midnight.

[Sagequeen]

“What am I doing?” Erissa said as she stood alone in the thoroughfare of a city she did not know, bewildered by a simple bar brawl. I could always go back home, she thought, but at once banished the possibility from her mind. Searching for the courage that had coaxed her from Caedron Hall, Erissa pushed herself forward once again. She brushed away a glop of stew that had glued itself to her chin. Feeling more defeated than defiant, she walked in search of an inn.

For an hour she wandered the streets hardly meeting a soul. Erissa felt very small and very alone in the large, darkened streets; the looming buildings leered at her with windowed reflections of her small, vulnerable frame. Frazzled, she cried out in fear as the back of her cloak was given a tug; she grasped her staff and spun around, ready to strike her would-be assailant. She searched the darkness but saw no one. A warm tongue greedily began lapping the gravy from her cloak. Looking down, Erissa could make out a vague animal form.

“Shoo! Shoo!” She hissed and the figure cringed. Peering closely she saw a dog, a puppy not even a year old. He watched her carefully with intelligent eyes as he continued lapping and chewing the cloak, attempting to get every last crusted morsel. Erissa tugged her cloak away from him and tried to walk on, but the puppy mistook her actions and thought it was good fun. He clamped his teeth down and playfully shook his head back and forth, rocking Erissa. “NO!” she said sharply, and his tail drooped between his legs. Erissa began walking again, aware the dog was following her. She could not make out his body; it was black. As she looked over her shoulder, she saw the speckled-white paws, chest and snout bobbing in the darkness.

“No! Shoo! " She said again, and while the dog retreated several steps he would not be deterred. Frustrated, the elf ignored him and walked more quickly. Finally she came upon a quiet and well-kept little inn. Erissa opened the door intending to leave the puppy outside, but he squeezed in through a knee-high gap and nearly knocked Erissa to the ground. The vase of flowers on a nearby table was shattered across the ground as his entire hind end wagged at the smell of food. Erissa looked apologetically at the innkeeper and guests at the table enjoying dinner.

“It's alright, dear. Pets are welcome here. Oh my, you're a mess! I see you've sampled the local fare,” said the kind-faced woman. Erissa was not given time to protest the 'pet' part. “Come, let's get you cleaned up! Brin! See to the puppy!” Her son went to the kitchen to gather scraps and supplies to clean the mess as the woman guided Erissa to another room. “My name's Rora,” she said as she drew a warm bath.

“Erissa,” she replied. “I can pay for the stay now if you prefer. And the vase.” Grateful for the bath, she removed her cloak and paid the innkeeper who was in awe of Erissa's attire.

“Thank you! I'll be right back with a towel. I'll get that cloak clean, too.” When Rora left her alone, she slipped out of her silken purple dress and into the steaming water. To her delight, she saw small vials of liquid and chose a relaxing lavender to scent her water.

Sinking down to her chin, Erissa took in her surroundings. The inn was quaint and clean. The old, scarred wood floors were decorated with woven rugs, and the windows were covered with the same hues of azure and pale blue. The furnishings were worn but looked very comfortable, unlike those in Erissa's own home where style was the main consideration.

“Looks like you're traveling light, so I brought you something to sleep in. It's mine, but we look about the same size,” Rora said as she reentered the room. She laid out a large soft cloth and a folded cotton garment. Erissa was too comfortable to protest the short-haired woman's unannounced entrance. The innkeeper had a neighborly face and gentle grace to her agile movements. "Enjoy!"

“Wait,” Erissa interjected before Rora could leave. “Would you be interested in my dress for a trade? Something fit for traveling, if you have it.” Her eyes brightened as Rora held out the purple garment she had folded. She caressed the fine cloth with a work-toughened hand.

“Hardly seems fair to you; I can't imagine what you paid for this!”

“I made it, actually,” Erissa said smiling. “I can always make another.”

“Well, I can't turn an offer like that down,” Rora said, eyes wide. “Let me see what I can find for you.” She spoke absently as she held the shoulders of the dress against her own. Years vanished from her face as the expression of a young girl playing dress-up enlivened it. She gave a broad smile before leaving Erissa to her bath. Erissa sunk back down into the water, breathing in deeply the soothing scent before submerging completely. She lounged until the water cooled.

[Sagequeen]

“One of my favorite parts of being an innkeeper,” Rora began, “is the stories.” She smiled with earnest content and propped her feet on the hearth. The cheery fire crackled and colored the room with subtle, flickering amber hues. The common room was empty but for the two of them, and Erissa sat near her, wrapped to the chin in a hand-knitted quilt, on the long couch.

“I can only imagine,” mused Erissa as she gently laughed at the pup who was sprawled out near the hearth. He woofed and twitched in his sleep, absorbed in the dreams only dogs can know. We are both strays, are we not?

“What's yours? If you don't mind me asking, of course,” Rora said intently. “Wait, let me guess! Your family is wealthy. But you're sick of that life and want to see the world.”

“You are right, in a way. I am looking for someone,” Erissa answered, a touch of sadness in her voice, “though for whom I am unsure.”

“Hmmm. That's not terribly uncommon,” Rora said with a disappointed cluck of her tongue. Erissa was hesitant to continue, so Rora attempted to discern her situation. “Let me think... I can't tell your age, never can with elves. But why would someone obviously well-off like you leave it all behind? Love? I can't think of another reason.” Rora raised her eyebrows in an enticing gesture. Erissa heaved a heavy sigh, feeling a little frustrated.

“Well, not love exactly. And I am 25 years,” she began.

“Hey now! That's a rare thing indeed to meet a High Elf younger than I am,” Rora exclaimed. Erissa nodded politely to Rora's interruption. "But if not love then what?"

“My father is a conniving politician," Erissa said matter-of-factly. "I'm nothing more to him than a pawn in the game where he sees himself as not only the king, but also the hand controlling the pieces. He wants power, to put it plainly. My mother might have had reservations about his control over our lives, but not enough to overcome her love of the wealthy lifestyle he provided. It has been like that all my life. I was naive to think she would protect me from a coerced marriage."

"I see," said Rora, "I guess that's a good reason." She suspected more, and indicated it as she drew out the last few words.

"Recently, my paid servant betrayed my family and divided us further against one another, over a man I hired to gather materials for my tailoring. I saw him as nothing more than good company until my father hastened his departure. Then I realized there was much more there. Love? Perhaps, but in what sense I cannot discern. He is so like my brother was,” Erissa paused a moment as she recalled him. “When I lost my brother I lost myself, and now, it is as though I lost him again when Virlas left. I will never forgive my servant for what she did.” Rora nodded slowly, considering the story in silence.

“So now,” Rora began, “you are searching for hope or revenge, but you can't make up your mind which.” Erissa confirmed with a reluctant nod. “May I give you some advice?” Rora asked, but did not wait for approval. “You can have your revenge, but it will leave you empty. Trust me, I've seen enough of that type come through here. But you don't seem like that.

"Now, you can chase hope and happiness all your life," Rora continued, fluffing her gray-streaked brown curls. "The two are birds of a feather, bluebirds I fancy, and good luck catching them! But the way I see it,” she paused and furrowed her brows in thought, “if you make your heart a garden filled with good things that bear sweet fruit, those bluebirds will come to you. But keep in mind, there's no room for hope and happiness in a heart consumed by revenge and hatred. Forgive your servant,” Rora implored Erissa who stared moodily into the fire.

“She is from here, from Underwood,” Erissa said, never looking away from the flames.

“Oh, really!” Rora said, interest intensely piqued. “I can venture a guess why you've shown up here, but I'm resisting the strong urge to ask your servant's name.”

“Her name is Arienne,” Erissa said, figuring Rora would get the information out of her eventually. Rora rubbed her chin, contemplating.

“I should warn you: if you want your revenge, it's right here, back home in Underwood. Looking rather well off, too, flashing gold around like it's a common thing in these parts. I wondered where she got it but now I know.” Rora sighed and shook her head. “I'm not saying you should go and do anything. I already said you shouldn't! But I didn't want you to run into that one unexpectedly. She hasn't been right since her parents were killed. Wasn't all there before to tell the truth of it. But now, I can't quite put my finger on it, but somehow she's worse off than before.” Rora shuddered. Her brown eyes settled directly on Erissa. “Mercy is a virtue, Erissa. Remember that.” She waved her hand in the air as if dispelling a stench. “Tell me about the man, Virlas was it?”

Erissa barely heard the innkeeper's question and struggled to withdraw from the shock of hearing Arienne was in Underwood. In her anger and for lack of a better place to start, Erissa had come to Underwood, Arienne's hometown, first. She never truly expected to find her former servant, nor did she have any idea what she would do if she actually did.

"I bet he's handsome, isn't he?" Rora grinned, finally getting Erissa's attention. "Probably some dashing rogue, I'll wager, to just up and leave like that. Plenty of those around!"

"He is not a rogue! He is a mercenary!" Erissa paused, realizing how laughable her comment was. She attempted to explain. "Of course he was handsome, as men go I suppose. But it was like he already knew me. He made me smile; we laughed. It had been years since I laughed like that. He helped me - out of the goodness of his heart - and took only a fraction of the pay I offered. And," she said sharply, "he was never inappropriate! A perfect gentleman." Erissa smiled, but her train of thought wandered and the smile faded. "But it would never work. I am no more an adventurer than he is a tailor. Besides, I will always lose him in the end. Whether it is the cruel edge of a sword or the heartless and slow ravages of time that take him--"

"Oh, of course! You must have the gift of foresight," Rora said sarcastically.

"No," Erissa replied, missing the point.

"So you can't see the future then," Rora said, frowning and throwing a hand up in the air. "I realize you have several thousand years to live and he has less than a hundred. And yes, mercenary is a dangerous line of work. But live for right now! Don't keep living in the past and dreading what you think the future will bring. Live for what you can do today! Grow your garden! Make a place for hope and happiness, and they'll come. And you -- you're green as a spring melon to be 'adventuring' on your own, so he might end up outliving you!" Rora regretted her harshness. "But don't mind me. I'm just a gossip with too much advice to give."

Erissa brooded as she watched the flames consume the logs. A few moments later, Rora retired to her bedroom.

[Sagequeen]

Morning came with the call for breakfast, followed by an excited, prancing dog jumping on her in bed. Erissa shoved him to the floor, not entirely thrilled with his presence in her room. She had allowed him in only to avoid troubling the others. Her mood lifted when Erissa caught the unmistakable scent of a slow-roasted coffee, freshly brewed, and she coveted after the taste of it. Her rude awakening swiftly forgotten, she also detected the yeasty-warm scent of baking bread, bacon frying, and eggs scrambled with pungent fresh herbs. Not a single elegant breakfast at home had she anticipated more than the homely meal that awaited her.

Erissa slipped into the robes Rora had left for her. Her master tailor's eye analyzed the sage-colored cloth; it was acceptable though the seams were slightly crooked. The layered garment was a good fit and the many pockets would prove useful. Slinging her satchel over her shoulder and taking her staff in hand, she regarded the puppy that watched her carefully. He seemed to know she was preparing to leave and stayed at her heel.

“Well then. What do you think?" She asked the dog. His bright and eager eyes held held fast to her movements. “She is here. Do I seek her out or do I leave?” Receiving no answer, Erissa ambled down the stairs to the common room. She joined the guests at the table and enjoyed a hearty breakfast; the promising aromas from earlier were consummately fulfilled. As the meal concluded, the other travelers left for their day's errands. Erissa remained at the table, nudging a morsel of egg around her plate.

“Still deciding, are we?” Asked Rora as she began cleaning the table. Erissa did not answer immediately. Rora scraped and cleaned the plates; the clinking sound filled the air and disrupted Erissa's thoughts.

“If I did want to, where would I find her?” Erissa asked finally.

“Tsk, tsk.” Rora shook her head with a motherly disposition. “Well, remember what I said, but I won't be meddling any more. You'll probably find her in the market or one of the taverns. What's the name of that one... The Dark Horse, yes. She's in that seedy little place all the time with those tag-alongs, or so I hear. They'll be gone the moment the gold is, don'cha know.”

“Thank you again, Rora. I'm not sure if I will be back today.” Erissa rose from the table and gathered her things. The puppy scrambled to her side.

“Thank you!” Rora said. “You're welcome anytime!” She waved as Erissa opened the door, letting in a bolt of strong, clear, mid-morning sunlight. Erissa blinked as her eyes adjusted, then she made for the market area. Underwood was much more amiable in the light of day. Humble cobblestones paved the main roads between buildings of every shape and size. Though they were all very different, when viewed together the many influences lent it a certain charm not found elsewhere in Althanas, much like the people of Underwood themselves. Beautifully manifold they were, coming and going, living in relative peace with each other. The unconventionality was a curious source of comfort for Erissa.

[Amen]

Escape from Anebrilith by Sagequeen

This will be a condensed rubric judgment as per your request, so I’ll do my absolute best not to gush too much.

Plot Construction: 28/30

This had everything an excellent short story needs. Your protagonist is likable, your antagonist is believable and tragic, and your setting is well fleshed out. The ending satisfied and made me want more. Everything was driven by your character in a realistic and compelling way, and you managed to impose feelings on me as a reader. The bit with Rora and Erissa and the then-unnamed puppy in the common room by a roaring fire especially comes to mind.

Characterization: 28/30

In terms of continuity, everything was consistent, and any growth in your characters was logical. I wish we’d had more time to see Arienne’s sorrow and possible redemption - but then, that’s life, not a flaw in your story. This absolutely meshes with Althanas canon, you did well to keep the civil war in mind throughout and you’ve done your homework. You’ve begun expanding upon the concept of song magic here, creating something subtle but intriguing in the sequence with Arienne in The Dark Horse.

Let me pause here and say, I’m a blood and guts guy. When I’m in the mood for a short story, I reach for Robert E. Howard. If there’s going to be elves, I want orcs hitting them in the head with big sticks. The thing is, your stories thus far have transcended that just on the merit of being good reads. This story made me like Underwood, an area I’ve always found terminally boring, it made me want to defend Erissa in the tavern brawl (without diminishing my respect for her), and it made me curious about song magic. You’re asking me to go from axes to song magic, and you’re making a compelling argument. That’s good writing!

Writing Style: 29/30

I picked out a grand total of one mechanical error. Clarity was spot on, I never had to go back and reread anything. And you are a brilliant writer. I feel like I should make the token comment about advanced literary techniques (“try to use more metaphors!”) because that’s sort of my job, but personally? I don’t think I have a lot of room to talk, and I’m not expecting Catcher in the Rye or The Great Gatsby from even the best fantasy short story. If you were shooting for the next Great American Novel in 8,000 words or less, sorry.

Wildcard: 10

Okay, on the one hand, I feel kind of bad because I didn’t offer much criticism here, and I have a feeling I'm going to get yelled at for giving you the score I'm giving you. If we’re being totally honest, I think you’re a writer of equal or better skill than me, and you’re certainly a better storyteller than I am. On the other, I got to read an awesome story and give you an awesome score. Perhaps someday you’ll convince me to write a friendlier character and we can do a thread together, but until then I’ll content myself with reading whatever Erissa gets herself into next. I sincerely look forward to it.

Total: 95

Sagequeen gains 1330 EXP and 200 GP.

Spoils:

- A trinket that reveals demons and the demon-bound
- A sapphire necklace
- A water-resistant satchel plus traveling supplies

[Letho]

EXP/GP added. Sagequeen, welcome to the next level.