Quest

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The street was empty, oddly so. That squirmy feeling was back between my shoulder blades, and I scowled at the too bright clouds overhead. Why on earth had Lakra sent me here? Cryptic to a fault, that one. Trustworthy? I still wasn’t sure.

I knocked on the wooden door set deep in the stone, my other hand rubbing the filigree of my sword grip. The door flew open and a wrinkled hand shoved a scroll into my chest before it slammed shut again. I scrabbled to hang onto the rolled paper, staring at the worn boards as if they might bite me at any moment. “Hello? Nice to meet you too?”

Nothing but silence answered me, and I stepped back into the street to examine the scroll. “This better be worth it!” I yelled at no one in particular as I unrolled it. Inside were two lines of angular marks and a sketch of a river basin. “Seriously? Hell runes?” I was going to kill Lakra when I saw him again. A simple quest, that’s what I told him. Just for a few golds. And he sent me for hell runes. I made a fist around the scroll, crumpling it irredeemably, and stomped back down the still empty street.

White

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She stopped just below the rise, nervously adjusting her shield. The bridge of her nose was starting to hurt; whiteout suits weren’t designed to be worn more than a few hours. How many days ago had she left the Dome? Did days even exist out here?

She sighed and watched a flock of frostlings whirl above the lone tree on the ridge. They settled quickly, one or two fluttering up again as if squabbling over a perch. She glanced from the tree to the track before her and stabbed her pole viciously into the packed snow under her snowshoes. Just one hour couldn’t hurt. Under the tree would be a welcome rest from the endless white.

She trudged ahead, trying to ignore the burning in her thighs. How long? The tree was just on the ridge, but distance was deceptive out here in the White.

She wondered if anyone would look for her. A wry grimace stretched against the irritating shield. After the shouting match in the precinct over her report on the tracks, they might be relieved if she disappeared. Even if they did search, they would never find her in whiteout gear. She would find out what, or who, else was out here in the White. One way or another, she would find them.

Potion

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“Take this bottle. It holds everything you need to accomplish your quest.”

“This bottle? Are you sure?”

“Of course! This is my personal creation, the most advanced I have ever produced. When you arrive at the Dungeon, wait for sunrise. Set the bottle in the exact center of the trapdoor just as the red sky turns gold. It will cast a glowing key into the invisible lock, granting you entrance. But under no circumstances drink any of the liquid inside before entering the dungeon, or all will be lost.”

“Don’t – what? Why would I drink it? It’s marked poison! With a big skull and crossbones! Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“Don’t be ridiculous! That is all part of the master plan. No one would ever want to drink poison, therefore I created this disguise to ensure the key remained in your possession until required.”

“So, if it isn’t poison, and you said don’t drink it before entering, when do I drink it? And what will it do for me?”

“Has your skull thickened? The liquid will kill you, it is acid of the highest potency! Unless you intend to rot in the Dungeon forever with your precious Cleric, you must pour it over the invisible lock before the trapdoor closes behind you and traps you inside.”

“You’re insane. If I do manage to rescue the Cleric on the strength of your planning, it will be a miracle.”

“Naturally. I will be raised to Eternal Mage for this. I promise not to forget you when I have been sanctified.”