I first laid eyes on Thisia watching a performance she and her troupe were giving at Risque. I had just lost a large pile of pentacles in a game of Quatrillion, and was feeling down, when I heard upbeat, exotic music coming from the performance hall.
A dozen violet skinned forms, danced, contorted and writhed to the melody, and I was mesmerized. My melancholy was instantly gone. After the performance, I spoke to the troupe, praising their skill.
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The Silver Pentacle limped it’s way to the floating city of Cabal Magicus after our nearly fatal run-in with a sea dragon. I for one was happy to be on relatively stable ground. I was discovering that travel by windship did not agree with me, but the captain assured me I would get my “air legs” eventually.
Cabal Magicus. Once upon a time I imagine it was a splendid city. It still is a marvel to behold, floating high above the Isle of Phantas, the chains of adamant that connect it to the isle glistening in the moons light.
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Eerduz and I had taken a perilous journey to the far land of Faradun in an attempt to bring to the pages of the Feast of Ardan an infusion of exotic beauties. We were successful beyond our wildest imaginations, as you will soon see.
We had sailed to the port city of Tarun with a Zandir merchant ship, and had a few days to find some models before they set sail again.
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