Greyhawk

Rue's Letter to Fionn

Dear Fionn,
I hope you don’t mind me sending you this letter, and my messengers, but you seemed so sad when we met. It’s no fun to feel sad and alone, I know; if you would like, the smaller fairy is very good at being hugged— just make sure not to do it around his neck, he’s a little jumpy about that.

I never had a friend who was a priest before. I was taught by some traveling Druids and I’ve met smaller gods coming through Faery, but I really haven’t had too much to do with priests. I’m glad I know there are priests like you out in the world, because we just met a priest here who did horrible things to Jay and I couldn’t make him answer for it, and I may never get the chance. I would like to believe that other gods are better at picking their puppets, and choose more like you.

Have you ever met your god? Is he as nice as your mother? ‘Shen really respects Caoimhe, so she must be very good and kind.

May I ask a favor of you? I recently found my sisters—my half-sisters, from my mother—in Greyhawk. Will you, please, ask your mother to watch over them when she can? I don’t know who they follow, and I don’t know if I will ever see them again, but my mind would be a little more at ease knowing someone is looking over them…someone other than my father, anyway. I think you would really like my family, and should go visit them when you can. I know they’d like you.

I cannot offer you much in way of bargaining at the moment, but I promise you this—grant me this favor and you will have a dear friend for life. When this is all over I will do what I can to be there for you whenever you call on me.

That is, if you wish to have me as a friend. Do you think people are born bad? You were able to look into Jay and see he was a Ranger, did you see anything in me? I don’t mean to, but I seem to bring pain wherever I go. I’ve thoughtlessly sent so many of my little fairies to their death. I made a rag doll girl get ripped apart by a very bad girl, and when I told Erwin I didn’t want his undead pickled babies he pulled them apart for pieces and I think I may have squished some when I emptied our bag of holding into his lab. Have you ever heard an undead pickled baby being squished by the contents of a bag of holding we had to give to a white dragon so he wouldn’t eat us? It is not a very nice sound.

I never set out to harm things, but I can’t seem to take three steps before crushing something beneath my heel. Even when I do good things, like send food to Jay and the Reavers, it ends up all backwards and poisons Jay and makes him vomit up rainbow chickens instead.

Do you think it’s because I was created to marry a demon? Am I stained by my purpose? I’m afraid I’ll hurt my companions, and sometimes I wonder if it may just be better to run away so I can’t bring them any more danger.

I’m sorry. I don’t mean to ramble when I know you have problems of your own. How is the siege? Have you killed any more demons? Is it hard to get good tea while you’re on a battlefield? I would offer to send some from ‘Shen through my messengers but…that did not work out so well last time. I don’t think you’d enjoy vomiting rainbows, Jay certainly didn’t.

I hope this letter has found you in good health and one day soon our paths will cross again.

With Love,
Rue

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inkstainedshrew

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