The Red Forest had already begun to shake loose of the Red Witch’s grip. Podë had died, and her magic had started to unravel slowly, and while I tried my hardest, I never did find another simulacrum. It seems that the entire reason she was reluctant to attack me near the case in her workshop was it was the last one. She had expended the four others she had made in a bid to prevent her death.
I did, however, find an ample amount of personal workshops and spaces. Each burned as readily as the last, using fire as a purifying element to the task made it simpler. The fire was notorious for its ability to destroy magical constructs not adequately protected. It was easier to toss a match on the pile of books and half built magic items than to figure out what was and wasn’t worth keeping.
My time in that forest seemed to stretch forever, and perhaps that was Podë’s final act of spite against me. She knew I would keep my word and make her suffer before leaving this plane of existence, and therefore took the option out of my hands. While frustrating to be sure, I wasn't deterred. If there were hidden simulacrum, I would find them. Lieutenant Verryna had been helpful in keeping me stocked on cigarettes and food, just enough to last until the next resupply, and I would give them just enough to warrant it. I never gave them everything. I had fast learned that was a mistake. The Elves would just reappropriate and redistribute the glory for what I had done, but if I kept it small, and kept persisting, they would properly attribute it to me.
How funny it would be when they saw what they stole credit for amounted to an anthill next to my hill.
Verryna, Thayne bless her, fought for every scrap I got. That woman seemed loyal to Godhand and me to a fault. So passionate about what she cared about, and it was touching to see her nearly jeopardize her career on a few occasions to continue to supply me. She was too pure for me, I honestly didn’t deserve her, but I used her all the same. I suppose she used me as well when we were fighting for Anebrilith. Keeping the undead from destroying the people trying to flee the Corpse War had nearly taken a toll on me. Maybe in her twisted way she was repaying a debt she knew she owed?
All I knew was I had broken free of the Ixian Knights and taken out Podë. In the end, I knew that I couldn’t just ignore the Forgotten Ones anymore. Killing one of them was a clear warning, the world was not theirs, and any attempt to take it back would meet with defiance. A second one was a message, their time was up, and we wouldn't wait for them to attack, we would hunt them down. So the next question was,
which Forgotten One would be next. I had heard rumors of Denebriel’s demise and figured investigation into that would be fruitful.
Either way, that was the fight that I finally put Godhand Striker behind me. I was finally able to move on with my life, thankful of the mercenary and how he helped me off my self-destructive path.
Drusilia Liadon -Memoirs of a Mage Hunter