Week seventeen -- Jaga

So no shit, there we were. Walking down the road, minding our own business, trying to deliver a message from the king, when we spotted raiders up the road, barreling toward us. Long story short, we were saved from certain death by an old lady bearing turnips. I tasted one, they didn't taste particularly dangerous, but she was insistent that we would be safe if only we would stay near her turnip cart. Now, I can think of better things to do than suffer what I expect would be a horrible and painful death, so I stayed near the cart. Sure enough, the raiders were suitably deterred by the roots and did not harm us, but simply rode on by. I was pleasantly surprised that this actually worked. (Apparently even hardened, bloodthirsty criminals consider it bad form to harm a farmer in these parts. I can't say I'm entirely against the idea, either.) I made a mental note to myself to give turnips another try, seeing as though I've always been sort of non-committal about them. Attitudes can change when something saves your life.

Anyway, we no sooner got into town than we get stopped by an obsidimin requesting we meet with his boss, an appropriately dressed elf, before we deliver our message from the king. I didn't see any reason why we couldn't meet with both, so we headed off with the obsidimin straight away.

It turned out to be a short meeting. The poor elf only managed to squeak out a half sentence before he was stabbed in the back through a cleverly hidden hole in the back of his seat. It really wasn't too terribly surprising, given the area, but it was disappointing not being able to get the appropriate information. The really interesting part was actually the stabbing weapon itself, a rather ornate dagger. It wasn't something I think you'd want to leave behind by accident. The whole situation makes me a little nervous.

As expected, seeing as though a crime was committed in our presence, we had to talk to the local authorities. And the local authorities did not disappoint – it turned out to be Terricia, a windling of considerable fame being a world-class bitch and the heir apparent to the throne. She didn't get much information out of us, considering we didn't really know anything, but she did take our letter of introduction. That sort of pissed me off, but I couldn't really think of anything to do about it at the time. She's really not someone I'm comfortable fucking with.

Thankfully, we were still granted an audience with the head orc the next day, despite our lack of letter of introduction. Terricia was also there, which may have helped a bit. He wanted to talk about our ill-fated meeting the previous night, but we couldn't really tell him anything besides what we had already told Terricia. They wanted to inspect the dagger, but our t'skrang was experiencing a shit-for-brains moment, and decided not to give it to her. Suffice it to say that ended badly for our t'skrang with Terricia still holding the dagger in end. Can't save everyone, I suppose. We did learn, however, that the dagger belonged to a rather famous assassin. But again, why he'd leave the dagger behind eludes me. The whole thing doesn't sit well with me, something bad is going on here.