The Hedgehog's Dilemma (Feature Quest Event)

Some men see the salt sea with a sweet fondness for its savage freedom. The caustic air fills their lungs with a fresh vigor, and their heads with all sorts of whimsical ideas of bold adventure and maidens fair. Far fewer, I fear, take the time necessary to think about the grim consequences of a world unbound by the chains of law and civility. It's always swashbuckling and never scurvy, feasting and never cannibalism, buxom wenches and never the finer art of sodomy. Romance was what drove fools to port, and it was precisely the foolish romantic I hoped to recruit for my schemes.

When the cataclysms had hit, I found myself in woeful need of work. A comet is the sky was an auspice of ill-fortune. Truth be told it seemed to me to be a standard bit of astronomy, but I must admit the clouds of sulfured air that blotted out the sun and whole nations plunging into flaming hells was a tad convincing. Ashen skies sent throngs of refugees abound to seek some safety, and the whole business in Corone left my contacts and their deep pockets scrambling to while away their misfortunes in luxury apartments in Ettermire or on some fabulous yacht far away from the apocalypse. Cowards, one and all, who kept from me the contracts I craved. Without my letters telling me whom to hunt and kill, I found myself growing discontent, and perhaps a tad bit restless.

I smashed some poor whore's head in just to pass the time.

[strike]Focus.[/strike]

Thankfully, one last name found its way to my possession. A contact of my dear uncle, this rich merchant had seen his shipping business dwindle as the obsidian waves came crashing from the sea, and falter to nothing at all as a small pirate fleet plundered the coast of Scara Brae. If his business was going to recover such substantial loses, the leader of the pirates was going to need to vanish. But finding him had proved to be of much difficulty. He stayed far from any known port even when in need of supplies, and spent his time deep in search of a rich vein of obsidian where the countless slaves he'd taken worked themselves to a worthy death. The pirate captain had himself a distinctive look by all accounts. Bald and covered in tattoos from face to head, with a mean beard and jagged scars that those rugged types loved to gloat about. However, the troubling thing about it all was his witnessed power. Few had survived his corsairs' slaving runs against coast and ship, but those statements that did exist called him a mage of some extraordinary ability. An arcane user at the head of his own private little fleet was something of a difficulty to nail down.

Or would be, for a lesser mind without the devil's luck.

You see, some time ago I found myself on a most curious mission to kill the witch that haunted the forests of Raiaera, admist a crowd of others who deemed the honor, justice, or money of the adventure to be of the highest order. I failed to be the one to strike the bitch down, and if I could stomach the act of mortifying my flesh for such putrid weakness, I would. But my efforts gave me a consolation prize. A queer little map that until now had proven to be no more than a scrap of paper. As the comet came over head, however, it sprang to life and wrote before my very eyes in fresh fountain ink the coordinates to navigate to the richest source of obsidian.

Oh, what gleeful fortune found I.

The wealth of the treasure was meaningless. Money was for whores and rich men who doted on it. Corrupter of souls, new god to those excommunicated from the old, and a poor stand-in for a personality. No, money has never been important to me. This map represent a way to find my mark and bring about that swift and beautiful kill I longed for. It had been a pain in my chest, a hunger I could not sate. Going so long without a contract had left my impulse control with much to be desired. I'm not a man of many flaws, but the need for action, to strike, to hurt -

[strike]Focus.[/strike]

And so I found myself at the docks, awaiting the adventurers who would heed my call to fortune and favor. I've never been too keen on working with others, but as I had need of a ship, a captain, and a crew already, a few hired swordsmen didn't seem to be too out of order. Truth be told, this mission was far more dangerous than I'd like to admit, even to myself. The captain I found, a gruff woman who was wholly unappealing, was the best I could find with only the promise of treasure. Her ship was a rotten pile of shit to be honest, but I was assured in our correspondence that it wouldn't sink the second it set out to sea.

And if it did, at least we'd all die together.

Dressed in some finery I'd found in my closet, with a few bags of useless knickknacks for a cover, I presented myself as a dandy explorer, a favorite cover of mine. People always underestimated a fop. And tugging at my cravat, I remembered a passage I'd come across in a book on philosophy that seemed all too pertinent.

Society was like two hedgehogs in winter. The cold biting winds and frigid snow at their feet made these animals desperate for warmth. But the closer they came to one and other, the more their quills would stab into the other's flesh. The key to it all was finding the right distance apart for comfort.

Me personally? I'd rather freeze to death.