Vexing Vixen's Tricks

Vixen’s, as it would be known as in later years, would slowly gain a reputation of having whatever you could need if it was open at the time. The owner would sometimes vanish for days or weeks at a time, leaving a simple closed sign until he returned. People from the lower city found his prices to be worth dealing with his strangeness, and those few who arrived from the upper city appreciated the magical wares he stocked. And yet, an air of mystery permeated the place. He never gave his name, and rumor said that you could find services of a less mundane inclination should you know how to ask. So it was that a young author heard word of the store, a young woman by the name of Destri Thom. Her story started seventeen years ago, but it is today that we join her to witness her strange tale.

-Mercury 12th, 870, Caelia, Vexing Vixen Hexes.-

The tinkle of welcome bell sounded through Vixen’s, the most recent of a busy day. A cool breeze slipped through the open door, a welcome relief from the blistering Caelian heat and odor of innumerable objects. A woman dressed in the blue robes of a scholar entered alone, pulling her hood up and scanning the room for the counter. She settled on following the gleam off a spinning mirror above the aisles. She lost sight of it behind a rack of Pass Daggers and cat food, hesitating for a moment to catch her robes in case they tried to get caught on something. Hurried along, she almost missed the aisle leading to her goal, catching sight of a masked man leaning against the counter as she approached.

“San, we’re not going to hunt down more Featherwheat. You do remember the last ti-Oh, we’ve got a customer. Welcome to Vexing Vixen Hexes. What curse, spell, or toy can we get you?” His voice was cheerful enough despite being thick with a strange accent, his trilled Rs and slow speech implacable even for the young scholar. The gilded mirror beside him spun slowly in the air unsupported, turning to face the newcomer and making a soft jingle sound as it twirled around. “Hope you’re not here for Featherwheat, or I owe her a hundred Tri. We’re out anyway.” He points a gloved thumb at the mirror, which spins a bit faster and jingles again.

“N-No.” The woman seems slightly confused, sizing the pair up. The man, Vixen she presumed, wore clothes she’d expect to see in significantly colder weather. A brown leather overcoat atop a black undershirt, brown slacks, and heavily worn fingerless gloves. Underneath the coat she picked out the telltale straps of holsters for something, usually worn by Guardsmen or others who preferred their foes not know what weapon they carried. His skin was a darker shade of white, though marked with the softly glowing triangular tattoos of a mage, though their origin was unfamiliar to her. The mask he wore muffled his voice slightly, the jagged pattern bringing to mind an image of razor sharp teeth. It spread across his jaw and down to his chin, covering his nose to stop just below his hazel eyes. Uncommon in Caelia, though not as uncommon as his gray hair, which was tied back in a long ponytail. Most magically dyed theirs, or used more mundane dyes when funds were tight. The mirror was… well, a mirror. It’s frame was decorated with ornate golden swirls, silver wire reaching around to outline the swirls. It’s surface was strangely reflective, though when it turned toward to face her the reflection of her own deeply tanned skin and dyed navy hair shifted into a deep whirlpool of glowing blue… Something. She shook her head, coming back to her senses.

“Might need some Cleall, looks like she’s been hazed. San?” Vixen waved a hand in front of her face, concern tinting his voice. The mirror spun off, vanishing into the store.

“N-no, sorry. I haven’t been hazed, just distracted.” She reached into her robes, digging a book out of the bag hidden underneath. She flipped it open to a bookmarked page, turning it to show Vixen. “Do you have this?” She put a finger to the drawing of another book, covered in ornate symbols and placed upon a stone pedestal. He rubbed his chin, looking at it carefully for a minute.

“San, do we have any lost books of magic in stock?” A jingle resounded from somewhere in the store. “Nope, sorry little miss. San, she’s fine.” Another jingle sounded, much closer this time, followed by a dull thunk. The mirror returned, it’s lazy spin now stuttered like a clock hand’s ticking. “Sorry, sorry, my bad. You still owe me a hundred Tri though.” It spun quickly once, letting out a shrill jingle. “Okay, fine. You still owe me though.” He sounded like he was enjoying himself at least. Destri was starting to feel a bit left out though, closing and stowing her book.

“Fine, well that’s all I need.” She sighs dejected. “I’ll just have to check where the wind wanders then.” She started to leave, a loud jingle surprising her out of her thoughts.

“In that case, we might be able to help you. What’s the name of this book?” Vixen stood up straight suddenly, holding a hand out to San. The mirror obediently floated into his grasp as he looked over at the retreating girl.

“Really?! It’s the Tome of Helar, a book said to contain a wealth of ancient magical knowledge!” She turned back and lowered her hood in excitement, revealing the upper reaches of her own Mage’s Tattoos around her neck, the swirling design common to Caelian spellcasters.

“Helar… San, what have you got for me?” His voice grew serious as he stared into the mirror for a time. Without looking away he reached under his coat and drew out a rectangular slip of paper. He set it on the counter, his finger engulfed in sapphire flames, scorching a curved symbol into the paper. “Thanks San. Okay little miss, we head out tomorrow morning at sunrise. Don’t be late.” He let go of the mirror, which started to spin slowly in the air once more.

“Wait, what?” The woman’s gray eyes widened in shock.

“The expedition to find the Tome of Helar. We’ve got a lead, you’ve got the Tri, and we’re heading out tomorrow. You did agree to hire us after all.” He stepped out from behind the counter, entering the store proper.

“Hired? Money?!”

“Two hundred Tri for the Seeking, plus two thousand for the Expedition. Your contact didn’t give you the prices?” He’d already disappeared into the maze of aisles, his amused voice carrying over the shelves.

“T-Two THOUSAND?!” She sputtered, even more shocked than before. “I live on a grant of six hundred a MONTH! How do you expect me to pay that much?!”

“If you can’t pay in Tri, then you get to play assistant for a while. You’ll probably be done in six months or so.” He emerged carrying a traveling backpack, tossing it to her. “That comes with the job. Don’t be late now.” She couldn’t see it, but she could almost hear the smile in his voice. She left soon after, unable to say much else when the mirror shoved her bodily from the building. She turned back once she had picked herself up off the dirt covered cobbles, a ‘closed’ sign in the window.

“It’s for the Tome Destri, you can handle this.” She mumbled to herself as she started back toward her home, the Scholar’s Guild.

-Clementine 15th, 871, Meracan Frontier, The Stone Forest-

It had been three months of travel since that day, the new year rolling around as they traveled northeast into the frozen forests of Meraca. Along the way Destri was treated to the wonders of traveling with Vixen: one sided conversations with a mirror, spontaneous combustion of any living thing they met that happened to be edible, and multiple sleepless nights thanks to San’s incessant jingling. It was with a rather annoyed atmosphere that the trio finally arrived in the Stone Forest, petrified trees frosted in snow and ice. As we rejoin them the silence was broken as always by Vixen and San’s bickering.

“What do you think little miss?” Said woman had been tuning the pair out, a feat she had gotten particularly adept at over the past few months.

“Sorry, what?” There was a curt jingle. She couldn’t understand what San was saying, but she had gotten the gist of understaing it’s tone. Annoyance was a common one, and present now.

“She said ‘granite or igneous.’ I’m pretty sure these things are made of granite, but she says they’re igneous rocks. You’re the bookworm, what are they?” He stops, turning back to her. She sighs and puts her hand to her face, a gesture she picked up from him.

“Just because I’m a writer doesn’t mean I know everything… but fossils are usually sedimentary rocks. These trees were likely fossilized and dug up by erosion. It’s amazing how these kind of things can happen without anyone knowing about it.” She put a gloved hand against one of the trees almost reverently. As she turned away, a mark in the stone caught her attention. It was like something sharp had been embedded into the tree and removed, the edges of the quarter inch wound scorched black. “Vixen, slow down for a minute. I think I found something.” When no answer came she turned around, realizing that the sound of their arguing had vanished. “Vixen? Hello?” She was starting to feel a bit worried, nothing good happened when he vanished. He wasn’t in sight, and his footprints were gone. How someone with heavy boots like that manages to disappear so easily was beyond her, but ignorance wasn’t bliss at this point.

After standing around for a few minutes to see if he’d return she gathered herself mentally and continued the way they were going. Her own footprints hadn’t vanished, but he had been leading. The trees weren’t helping either, as densely packed as they were. The silence was stifling, pressing home the absence of her companions.

“Maybe… maybe moving wasn’t such a good idea?” She brought her gloved hands to her mouth, breathing into them to attempt to ward off the cold. The only other noise was her own lonely trudging through the snow, and her own shivering. Her winter clothing wasn’t enough for this far north, and while she wasn’t freezing to death yet she would be in trouble if she didn’t set up camp soon. She stopped eventually, removing her bag and digging inside it for a sunstick. The wooden rod ignited at a twist, and she held it aloft. Night was starting to fall, and she needed to find them now. With an unsteady breath she closed her eyes, an amber mist collecting around them. The same mist gathered in her right hand, pointed at the sunstick in her other. With a smooth motion it lifted from her grasp surrounded in the same glowing mist, and as she lifted it into the air she reopened her eyes. Magic wasn’t her focus, she preferred books, but telekinesis like this was always helpful. Her makeshift flare rose higher among the trees, stopping halfway up the massive pillar and circling it like a lighthouse. If he was still anywhere nearby, he should see it. Now just to wait.

A half hour and a small fire later her hopes were starting to die down. Her shouting didn’t draw his attention, and from the looks of things he hadn’t noticed her signal. It was with a worried mind and tired body that she lowered the sunstick back down to her. Of course, this being the frontier, she had drawn something’s attention. An arrow flashed out of the darkness, piercing the sunstick just before it touched her hand. The wood started to burn where the arrow had pinned it to the stone tree, the light dying quickly. Destri picked herself up out of the snow she had fallen into, inadvertently kicking enough onto the pile of Baker’s Kindling to quench the magic infused wood. Darkness blotted out the world, Destri’s softly glowing tattoos standing out in the shadows. She very carefully reached for her hood, a crunch of snow and the feeling of something sharp searing the back of her neck stopping her.

“Don’t move.” A rough, barely comprehensible voice growled from disturbingly close. She had no issue complying, though it was only the burning heat against her neck that stopped her from diving for her bag as it was pulled from her grasp. More crunching of snow, at least three pairs of boots, approached. She couldn’t see them, but they smelled almost as bad as the stuff the Scholar’s Guild would throw out after an experiment gone wrong. Definitely bandits.

Now deprived of everything she wasn’t wearing, the young scholar was grabbed roughly by the hood. “Shut up.” The burning metal was moved away, though she couldn’t resist too well against the bandit now dragging her across the snow. A faint glimmer caught her eye, something in the trees catching the light of the twin moons. It flashed again, and seemed to be following them. A crunch came from the opposite direction, the bandits stopping and drawing their weapons. A few seconds later a crack resounded from the other direction, a stone branch broken off from the nearby tree. The bandits closed together around Destri, weapons at the ready and eyes searching.

All was quiet for a moment that stretched far longer than it should… the sound of paper slapping against flesh breaking the silence, followed by a loud scream as one of the bandits found his armor melting against his stomach around a rectangular paper slip. The others turned toward the direction he had been facing, the one now at the back crumpling as the sound of metal crunching bone split the air. A glossy sheen spun forward, San’s frame jutting with translucent blades of cerulean light as it rose from the fallen bandit. The last two spun toward the mirror, an arrow breaking off one of the sawlike blades. It jingled, the blades dispersing as it flipped end over end, a coated figure fading into view between the two clutching the mirror.

“Last one.” Vixen’s voice held a grim glee as he pressed a hand against one of the last two bandit’s chest. San’s surface briefly revealed a typhoon of blue energy, much more violent now than before, which was mimicked in the hand pressed against the bandit. Cerulean flames tore through his chest, the new hole keeping him from screaming as he fell to the snow aflame. The last bandit raised his sword, Destri foolishly forgotten. Her hands spilled amber mist as they clenched into fists, the sword wretched from his grasp as he brought it down. His confusion ended when it was returned to him point first with a similar motion from her. He hit the snow just before she did, though more from the sword in his chest then her shock.

Vixen looked down at the fainted scholar, San spinning above his head quietly. He searched through the bandit’s possessions, reclaiming her bag and looting a few things that could be useful. After packing everything away he crouched down, lifting the young girl with some effort. “Good job little miss.”

-Clementine 16th, 871, Meracan Frontier, The Forest Ruins-

“If you don’t wake up San’s gonna go nuts. Come on, up and up little miss.” Destri felt said mirror repeatedly, but gently, rapping her upside the head. Unfortunately, that had become her standard wake up call over the past few months. She pushed the floating mirror away, rising to sit up and attempt to put a hand against her head. It was at that point she realized she was in her sleeping bag, a small fire of Baker’s Kindling as hot as bonfire nearby. Vixen sat across it from her on an overturned stone pillar. The smell of freshly cooked meat was thick in the air, a rabbit on a spit just finishing roasting. “Hey, little miss finally decided to get up. Rough night, how are you feeling?” She shook her head in response, managing to free a hand to cover her eyes. Light poured unimpeded into the clearing they were in, the ruins of an ancient stone building scattered around.

“What happened? Ugh… food…” She yanked the spit off it’s stand with magic, dragging it through the air toward her. It was greasy, and had that appalling spice that Vixen loved, but it was infinitely better than an empty stomach.

“Bandits, impalement, incineration, the usual. We took care of them, right San?” He chuckled at whatever meaning the impatient jingle held. “Okay, we all took care of them. Dragged you out here afterwards, this used to be their hideout. You can thank them for the fire by the way.” His continued good humor in the face of danger astonished Destri, though by this point she was starting to get used to even that. He had saved her after all. It almost made up for abandoning her in the first place. Almost.

“Where are we?” She continued to tear into the rabbit, speaking between bites.

“I’m pretty sure this is Helar. Book should be down there.” He pointed to a rough staircase set in the ground, a few planks of wood lashed together had been serving as a cover before being pulled aside. “San insisted on waiting for you to wake up before we got down to looting.” He stood as she finished her rabbit.

“Thanks for the patience.” His sarcasm had been rubbing off on her a bit, she had to admit. A few minutes later she was up and ready to move, her sleeping bag packed away with a few waves of her hands and some magic.

“No problem. Ready?” He shrugged on his pack, kicking the wood cover fully aside. San floated against the front of his pack, not quite touching it. Destri took the lead, cracking her last sunstick.

“Ready.”

-Aeria 19th, 871, Caelia, Vexing Vixen Hexes-

It had been over half a year since they had returned from the frozen north. The Tome of Helar had proven to be real, it’s recovery alone enough to cement Destri Thom as a name worth mention. She was seen less and less in the halls of their guild over the following months though, eventually turning in her robes and leaving the guild itself. When questioned, she had only one answer. “Hexes are more my thing.” A smile would accompany the words as she left the great halls. They were dutifully recorded in her page of the Great Codex, though what they forgot to include was where she went. You see, as she walked the winding streets of Caelia, past the merchants and shoppers, she had one goal. A little building on the corner of Elthan and Elm, a bounding fox on it’s sign.

A tinkle of the welcome bell sounded through the overstocked store, a very welcome sound by now. Finding her way was easy, after all she had been the one who stocked these shelves for the past seven months. The smell of alchemy ingredients and old magic gave her a sense of being home again, though it was a familiar noise coming from the counter that made her smile widen. A masked man leaned against the counter, arguing with a floating mirror beside him.

“Caramel won’t fix Crash-Apple burns San, where did you even hear that?”

An amused jingle was his answer, meaning something along the lines of “you.”

“That’s crazy, I wouldn’t say tha- Oh hey, little miss is back. How’d the resignation go?” His voice betrayed how entertained he was by the idea.

“Oh, you know. They can’t keep a vixen locked away, so they let me go. Now, I heard there’s an old pirate’s treasure hidden off the coast of Gia. Want a look at the map before we head out?” She produced an old scroll from her sleeve, spreading it onto the counter.

“Thought you’d never ask. Ready to go little miss?” He lifted a pair of packed travel packs from behind the counter, San’s jingle mimicking his question.

“Wherever the wind wanders Boss.”