Distressed Father
Arriving at the eastern edge of the Umbra Cliffs, I was immediately struck by the awe-inspiring scenery that lay before me. The cliffs stretched skyward, their towering heights reaching thousands of cubits, shrouded in ethereal wisps of clouds that lent an enchanting, almost mystical aura to the surroundings. Yet, beneath this mesmerizing facade, there lay a sense of desolation, a forlorn beauty that tugged at the heart.
Below these majestic heights, a valley lay untouched by the warmth of sunlight, its depths obscured from view. A mysterious air hung over this hidden realm, beckoning me to explore its secrets.
Yet, as I took a step forward, an unsettling odor wafted through the air, thickening it with a foul stench. I recognized the scent all too well—rotting corpses. A shudder ran down my spine as the realization dawned upon me; the valley held a dark secret, one that had claimed the lives of unfortunate souls.
Moving with caution, I approached the entrance of the valley and caught sight of a man clad in rags, his shoulders hunched in dejection. His appearance spoke of hardship, and it was evident that life had dealt him a cruel hand.
As I drew nearer, the threadbare man turned to face me, his eyes searching for answers in my gaze. "I haven't seen you before. You are...?" he inquired, his voice tinged with a mix of hope and weariness.
"A traveling wizard," I replied, offering him a glimpse of my identity.
His eyes widened with a glimmer of joy. "Thank the gods!" he exclaimed. "Can you help me find my daughter? She went missing a few days ago while hunting nearby," he pleaded, desperation lacing his words.
A huntress—Basilla was her name. My heart sank as I realized yet another girl had disappeared, adding to the growing list of missing souls. "Her clothes are made of canis skin. She has short hair, rough hands, and she puts up a good fight," he described, his love for his daughter evident in his every word. "Please tell her, Barqash, her father, is waiting for her to come home," he added, a glimmer of tears in his eyes, teetering on the edge of falling.
The ache in my heart deepened, knowing that another family was suffering the torment of uncertainty. Thoughts of my time in Agadir flashed through my mind, and I couldn't help but wonder if the legendary Spiritmancer, Zarathustra, was behind these abductions.
"I'll keep a watchful eye out," I promised the grief-stricken man, hoping that my abilities as a sorceress would aid in finding his daughter and putting an end to this nightmarish ordeal.
"May the River Goddess bless you, Sorceress," he whispered, gratitude etched upon his features.
After a moment of preparation, I steeled myself and stepped into the valley.