There is some pressure, it seems, for me to conform to this group. There are some who would have me yet another individual just like everyone else.
I can’t do that.
Instead I shall be telling you a tale of two women.
There was a time when I didn’t allow myself to be lost in the chase. Women were to be admired and worshiped, but never did I allow them to get into the core of me.
Time seems to have changed me in some indefinable way. I no longer feel the need to pull away when I know that a woman is pursuing. It no longer feels as though I have to hold a piece of myself apart and sacrosanct.
The first woman was hardly more than a girl. I think the appeal lies in that she isn’t much more mature than I myself am. We would make a pair, I am sure. I don’t know who she is yet, but the learning could be enjoyable.
We found her on a ship that had been beset by pirates. We revived her from the point of death, and the individuals of our crew decided I was more of a threat to her than she had already gone through. Don’t they understand that I only offer what women ask for?
I only hope that they learn.
We limped into port at Haven, our magical ‘engine’ having failed completely as we replaced the yellow-wood with more mundane planking.
I now see why the gods chose those of us they did. We have a mix of natural talent and hard work and we worked that ship as I’ve only imagined a well tuned crew could.
I gave Melany where we would be staying in the town of Haven. Sun’s Rest I think they call it. We got in there by nepotism, I think as Bishop Rose’s brother is the proprietor.
It seems, however, I’m not the only one of our group who is willing to go to the darker side of a city. Three of our party, including Drauka and Karma are so enamored of alchemy that they sought out a practitioner in that wretched hive of scum and villainy: New Haven.
What they promised I know not, but I doubt it was money.
I began my descent into the heart of darkness at the place that all such forays should start: the temple of Bast.
I brought that man of mystery and ebullient emanations of vocal torrents of auditory communication, none other than the great Tyvernos himself. Were he not so devoted to his own goddess, I think I might have a convert in him to the cat woman.
We worshiped in the temple and then asked our questions. We were directed to an apothecary on the dark side of the bay. Upon entering I found myself the center of attention of both men and women. I was served, and served myself, that most rare of all treasures on this entire planet: A beautiful dwarf.
Of course I told her where I was staying in the city. Only after did I realize that I had now told two women where I resided. I have never told a woman where I was staying.
I also got my drugs for a long time into the future.
We soon found ourselves in the presence of Bishop Rose. I lent the Wolfen slaves my strength as they lent us theirs and lifted us up to the Bishop’s Offices.
After a short meeting, we received word that the paragon and avatar of truth, none other than Mevka, scion of Rurga. She challenged Gavin to a duel. Then she proceeded to insult our gods. She called Ra a coward.
In concert with Cava we flustered the little witch. Somewhere she went from having the upper hand to being bound into a duel with the entirety of CrIsis. I think that some of my compatriots might have begun to feel sorry for her.
We spent the night in the Palace Hotel where we had our rooms. The night-time view of Haven is spectacular and I spent much of the night gazing out on it.
We arrived at the coliseum ready for anything that she would throw at us. We never imagined it would go like that.
At one point, the day before, Cava had been struck by lightning for a momentary partial truth. Mevka told an outright lie. Cava called her on it, or more specifically called for Rurga to prove herself the goddess of truth she claims.
As you will no doubt have heard Mevka is no more. No longer will Rurga attempt to drag the names of the gods of light into her push for war. That she will continue to try to initiate war, I have no doubt.
Regardless, I close this missive to you as your devoted progeny, even if you still refuse to accept me.
I am, ever, the best damn songmage you have ever met, Ferrel Fesqueue.
Written on Majestic 14, in the 22nd Year of Emperor Voelkian Itomas II.