Sapphyre's Mission Report to Wesley
Chapter One: Eleven Days of Admiration
Dearest Wesley,
I have returned from another successful mission and, as expected, I carried the entire expedition upon my perfectly sculpted shoulders.
You left me in charge of watching over the newer guild members, a responsibility I accepted with grace, wisdom, and considerable beauty. Naturally, everyone became rather attached to me during the journey. Eleven days aboard a train is a dangerous thing when one is traveling with a woman blessed by both divine favor and exceptional looks.
Conversations lingered longer than necessary. Smiles appeared whenever I entered a room. More than once I caught someone watching me before they suddenly became fascinated by a wall, a window, or a passing cloud. It was all very flattering.
The handsome bard Julien seemed particularly afflicted. Every evening his voice drifted through the train car like warm honey poured over velvet. Though he never directly confessed the inspiration behind his songs, the frequency with which his gaze found mine during the most romantic verses suggested I was not entirely absent from his thoughts. The poor man was trying very hard to be subtle. I found this adorable.
Others attempted to earn my attention through magic tricks, stories, songs, celestial charms, and Feywild curiosities. By the fourth day songs seemed to follow me wherever I went. By the sixth day I could scarcely sit down without someone attempting to impress me. By the end of the journey I had become reasonably certain that half the train was infatuated with me and the other half was simply trying to hide it.
I cannot entirely blame them.
You entrusted us with investigating the Ivory Crest gang and recovering a stolen family crest connected to their operations. A thousand gold pieces awaited our success, though naturally the opportunity to help others remained my primary motivation.
Thus we departed Springreach and traveled toward Thornmire.
Chapter Two: The Hanging Tree
Upon arrival, I immediately sought a new surcoat worthy of a priestess of the Goddess. Tragically, Thornmire offered nothing capable of doing justice to my figure, my station, or my reputation. Several merchants seemed genuinely disappointed when I left empty-handed. Julien, meanwhile, purchased a small bell. I did not ask why. The answer seemed obvious enough.
Eventually we arrived at a tavern called The Hanging Tree. The establishment was crowded, noisy, and thick with the scent of ale, woodsmoke, and bad decisions. Even so, I noticed more than a few eyes turning my way when I entered. Thornmire may be rough around the edges, but its citizens clearly possess excellent taste. There I was presented with a Blooming Onion and a mug of swamp ale. Several patrons watched with obvious interest. Some seemed skeptical. Others appeared hopeful. I suspect a few simply enjoyed the view. Regardless, I conquered the Blooming Onion and swamp ale with all the dignity of a saint and all the determination of a woman unwilling to lose a contest. The applause was immediate. I was rewarded with a free shirt, another drink, and enough admiring looks to sustain an ordinary woman for months. Fortunately, I have developed a tolerance for attention. Unfortunately, diplomacy soon gave way to violence.
A tavern brawl erupted. Chairs splintered. Tankards flew. Men shouted. And through it all I remained remarkably composed. One unfortunate fellow revealed he was married, so I encouraged him to play dead until matters settled. I considered preserving a marriage to be a worthy use of my talents. Meanwhile, Bastion found himself involved in a deeply unfortunate confrontation which ended with him collapsing unconscious after suffering what can only be described as a profoundly unpleasant injury. I shall spare you the details. During the chaos we discovered a hidden portal concealed behind a painting. A beautiful painting, I might add. Though not nearly as beautiful as me.
Chapter Three: The Hideout Beneath the Painting
Beyond the portal lay the true Ivory Crest hideout. My intention had been to negotiate. With my natural charm, wisdom, and gift for persuasion, I remain convinced I could have talked half the gang into surrendering and the other half into questioning their life choices. Sadly, certain members of our group possessed all the subtlety of a charging ox. The entire hideout was alerted almost immediately. There will be discussions about this later. Combat began at once. Naturally, I took the lead. Even while recording observations and directing the operation, I remained at the center of the action. Several times I noticed companions staying remarkably close to me despite the obvious dangers involved. Whether this was due to confidence in my leadership or simple admiration remains difficult to determine. The answer may be both. The fighting carried us through corridors, chambers, and hidden rooms until cries of alarm drew my attention forward. Without hesitation I rushed toward the danger. There we discovered a mimic. To everyone's surprise, the pixie became completely enchanted with the creature. Not frightened. Not cautious. Enchanted. There was actual begging involved. I still do not understand it. Frankly, I blame the Feywild. The battles continued deeper into the hideout. Criminals rushed forward only to find our company ready and waiting. Steel flashed beneath torchlight. Magic illuminated stone corridors. Through it all I maintained the composure expected of a priestess and the confidence expected of a woman who knows exactly how magnificent she is.
Chapter Four: Redemption and Victory
After considerable fighting and several displays of my exceptional leadership, we finally confronted the gang's leader. A dangerous man. A stubborn man. A man entirely convinced he knew best. Fortunately, I have extensive experience dealing with such men. Rather than simply defeating him, I chose the wiser path. I spoke of redemption. I spoke of purpose. I spoke of becoming more than the mistakes that had brought him there. Slowly his anger softened. Slowly his certainty cracked. Slowly he began to listen. In the end he accepted the path I offered. Of course, I allowed him to believe the decision had been his own. Men do seem to enjoy that sort of thing. The important thing is that he chose a better path. With the gang dismantled, their operation broken, and our objective secured, the mission was ultimately a success. More importantly, we left behind the possibility that at least one lost soul might become something better than he was before. I know that outcome would please both you and the Goddess. By the mission's conclusion, the gang had been dismantled, a criminal leader had chosen redemption, and at least three separate people had looked at me as though I had personally descended from the heavens to improve their day. I consider that an efficient use of eleven days. When you learn of my success, I am certain you will be pleased. We completed the mission, dismantled the gang, saved lives where possible, recovered valuable information, and brought at least one lost soul back toward the light. All in all, another excellent example of why leaving me in charge is almost always the correct decision. With affection, wisdom, divine radiance, and unmatched beauty,
Sapphyre
