Freckles, Fire, and Mother Fornaut's Offer

The jail cell was cramped, sour-smelling, and far too quiet for comfort. The South Westerlee Precinct wasn’t built for long-term stays, and it showed—crumbling walls, mold-stained buckets, and the stifling sense that the law didn’t always play fair in this city. The Borscht Brigade, along with Ace and Rumi, had been stripped of weapons, magic, and hope. The guards seemed firmly convinced of Molly Maynard’s fabricated tale—that Dray had stolen from her—and the planted coin purse sealed their fate.

While Ace and Rumi tried to make sense of their unwanted entanglement, Izutsumi found herself far more tangled than expected. She should have hated Molly. After all, Molly framed them, hunted them, got her into this predicament. And yet... those sharp hazel eyes, that wry smirk, the freckles scattered like constellations across her cheeks—Izutsumi couldn’t banish her from her mind. Her thoughts were stormy and unwelcome.

Rufus, ever the tactician, managed to conceal a set of lockpicks during the intake search—an oversight he was sure the guards would come to regret. He wasn’t one to be caged for long.

When Izutsumi raised her voice, trying to demand legal counsel, the weary, balding guard named Jask Wintle entered the scene. With a stammer and awkward smile, he assured her that a constable studying to be an advocate would help them. Her name? Sera Maynard. The mood in the cell plummeted.

Rumi tried to plead with Jask that they and Ace were completely innocent. Jask assured them that the magistrate would be the right person to talk to about that. Jask, in his flustered way, offered a deal: keep quiet, don’t pester the guards, and he’d ensure their food remained spit-free—maybe even toss in some pillows. It was a pathetic sort of bribe, but one that hinted at his pliable nature. The group wasn’t interested in waiting for justice.

Plan B was set into motion: Izutsumi and Sharkie shifted into rats, squeezed through the bars, and scurried into the precinct. In the guard room, three constables were playing cards, including the no-nonsense dwarven enforcer Olva Redhammer. Jask, meanwhile, was reenacting Rumi’s plea in an insulting falsetto to raucous laughter. "Oh dear me mister guard, I am completely innocent" said Jask while fluttering his eye lashes for emphasis, the guards laughed even louder.

The rats spotted the keys, but the hook was too high. They jumped but they did not even come close. Before they could try again, Olva spotted them—Thunk!—a fork whizzed past Izutsumi’s head. The two scampered out, slipping through the refuse chute and plunging into the salty water below. Sharkie transformed into a shark; Izutsumi, still in rat form, rode her fin like a pirate’s parrot.

Back in the cell, time passed. No sign of their druid friends. Sensing the moment, Rufus got to work with his lockpicks. The lock gave way to his practiced hands, and he quickly opened the other cells. Rumi proposed the prisoners soak the guards with their used waste buckets to cause a distraction. The plan was as grotesque as it was effective.

When Rufus tried to unlock the guard room, a guard on the other side heard the attempt and opened the door—only to be doused in filth. The chaos allowed most of the prisoners to flee. Rumi struggled with the chest of confiscated belongings, fumbling with the keys as footsteps echoed overhead. Just in time, the lock clicked. The Brigade grabbed their gear and dove through the refuse chute. They swam through the cold bay water, then spotted something utterly bizarre: a rat riding a shark. Reunited, they climbed to a dock and made for the city streets, soaked, wounded, and breathless.

That’s when they heard the voice. Molly Maynard, perched like a shadowy gargoyle above, smiled and offered help. “Go left,” she called. “You’ll thank me.” Rufus didn’t buy it, this whole thing was a game to Molly and he was not going to play along. They turned right.

Bad choice.

Guards rounded the next corner. Ace reacted quickly, casting Sleep and felling three. Rumi followed suit, dropping two more. The final guard rushed forward—but met a bottle of alchemist’s fire hurled by Rufus. The explosion was fatal.

Then Molly landed behind Izutsumi like a blade of midnight. Her dagger drove into the elf’s back. Izutsumi gasped, staggered... and smiled.

“Molly... it seems I’ve fallen for you. And I can’t get up.”

Molly froze.

“Why would you say that?”
“Because I can’t stop thinking about you,” Izutsumi whispered.

Molly’s composure cracked. Her smirk softened, and with a flicker of emotion in her freckled face, she hissed, “Run.” With a misty step, she vanished onto a nearby rooftop.

Wounded and reeling, the Brigade fled into the forest beyond the city. That night, as they caught their breath and tended wounds, a woman stepped into their firelight. She was tall, graceful, with deep brown skin that shimmered with celestial undertones and eyes that burned like coals. She wore a blue gown threaded with silver, and gems like starlight winked from her sleeves. She did not give her name.

She said she represented Mother Fornaut—a woman of influence, power, and ambition.

“Mother Fornaut seeks friends. And rewards them well.”

She offered them safety. Even strange, whimsical gifts. Rufus asked for a fire bow. Sharkie? A frog in tiny glasses. The woman smiled—she could provide those things.

When Ace asked for her life back, Sharelle’s smile dimmed. “One of the guards died,” she said softly. “That path may be closed now. But freedom? That can still be arranged.”

“Sleep on it,” she told them. “If you wish to serve Mother Fornaut, she will find you.”

And just like that, she vanished into the darkness—leaving the Borscht Brigade bruised, hunted, and now tangled in something far bigger than revenge or rumor. Izutsumi was restless, Molly had stabbed her and yet she thought of freckles as she drifted off to sleep. She wondered if Molly was thinking about her.