As lovely as Cymril seems, its roads aren’t as patrolled as one might think. With that in mind, I hired a guide and bodyguard to see me further east into Kasmir.
By this time, my once-shaved head was growing thick with black hair, accented with some fine clothes donated to me by Khryseis the erotomancer, who took pity on my plight.
Attired thusly, I apparently made an impression upon Dashalla, who must have thought me a Zandir.
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Khryseis is a Cymrilian erotomancer–learned in the arts of using magic for pleasure, as well as using pleasure for divination. She is also somewhat of a shaman, able to find lost loves and remove minor curses.
I approached her out of desperation, to see if she could free me of the witch’s curse. Khryseis read the lines in my palm and plucked three hairs from my unshaved head, which she burned in a brazier while chanting a spell.
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From the journal of Aamanet:
In my wanderings to find the Dhuna who damned my soul, I travelled east to the Seven Kingdoms.
I made the acquaitance of Ashalea, a Batrean concubine working in a pleasure house in a quiet neighborhood of Cymril. She posed for this portrait before teaching me of the forbidden fruits of erotic pleasure.
She was very talented, but I must confess–during our night together, my thoughts were only for the witch who had stolen my heart and ruined my life.
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