The Tavern

Jocatha is a loner. She ran away from home at the age of 13 and spent the next several years eking out out a meager existence on the streets as a pickpocket, using her quick wits and quicker feet to stay a step ahead of the local constabulary. At 17, after a failed attempt to part a well dressed man from his coin purse, she was caught and imprisoned. Only a day after her incarceration, she received an unexpected visitor. It was the well dressed man she’d attempted to rob. And he brought with him an enticing proposal. The man, who she soon learned went by the flamboyant name, Denrath the Uncanny, offered to secure her release if she would come and work with him in his travelling minstrel show. Jocatha didn’t need to consider for very long. She accepted the the offer figuring that out of jail is aways better than in jail. And she could always slip away in the night if she didn’t like where she ended up. But she made it clear that she was no stage performer or musician and, in fact, really didn’t enjoy being the center of attention. Her benefactor smiled and said “I didn’t pluck from the pit for your talents on a stage. I’m far more interested in your ability to remain unseen. My persona as a realm-renowned musician is merely a facade. No. Like you, I am a criminal. Of the most uncommon variety. And I find myself in need of both an assistant and an apprentice. From what I have observed thus far, you are capable of filling both roles. If it weren’t for the fact that you tried to steal from someone as well versed in the art as I, you would have undoubtedly made off with a full purse and none would be the wiser.” So Jocatha joined the troupe of minstrels and performers as a helper and stagehand, while learning the finer points of liberating moneyed patrons from their wealth. Her mentor taught her not only about various acts of larceny, but also instructed her in the disciplines of subterfuge, coercion, camouflage the picking of locks. In fact, she showed such an aptitude for all things mechanical, she began designing gadgets and contraptions to help her in her thievery. She also received training with daggers and short blades from the troop’s Master of Blades whose act revolved around throwing knives with incredible accuracy. Jocatha spent the next 10 years travelling from town to town and city to city, refining her skills and perfecting her art, all under the watchful gaze of Denrath. One evening, her mentor sent her on an errand to collect some rare and valuable artifact from an antiquities dealer in a seedier part of the city. She found the shop and paid its keeper the agreed upon amount, before taking her leave and returning to the inn where group had taken up residence for the past week. Upon her arrival, she could find no sign of the troop, nor her master, Denrath. The rooms they had been renting were abandoned with no indication they had recently been used. Worried now, she approached the innkeep .and demanded to what had happened to her compatriots. However the man seemed to have no idea what she was talking about and even claimed to have never seen her before. She got the same response from the barmaid working that evening, a buxom lass that Jocatha had twice coaxed into her bed. But there was no recognition in those pretty blue eyes. Just confusion. Realizing she would get no answers her, she fled to the streets, a place she always felt at home. None of this made sense. How could it even be possible? While trying decide what to do next, she became aware of the object tucked away in her bodice. The relic that Denrath tasked her with retrieving. Before setting out for the antiquarian’s shop, her master give her strict instructions not to open the package and view its contents. But now, finding herself without options, she used her knife to cut the strings securing the small bundle and carefully peeled away the layers of sackcloth containing the object. At first glance, what she found seemed wholly unimpressive. It was a small figurine, no bigger than the palm of her hand. It appeared to be a primitive depiction of a naked woman with wide hips and large breasts. Turning it over in her hand, Jocatha guessed the figure represented some ancient fertility goddess whose name has long since been lost. It was made of some sort of stone and strangely, felt warm to the touch. Much warmer than stone had any right to be on this cool spring night. Perhaps it was just the coincidental timing, but Jocatha had the feeling that this unimpressive object had something to do with the disappearance of her friends and her mentor. And one thing Denrath drilled into her head from very early on is never to dismiss her intuition. Jocatha rolled the small figure back up the cloth she found it in and tucked it safely into one of the many hidden pockets on her person. Dawn began to break as she pondered what to do next. She decided to that she should return to the antiques dealer from whom she purchased the figurine. Hopefully he could shed some light on this mystery. Although she would be overjoyed if he simply remembered her. She pushed off the wall in the dark alcove where she had been hiding, heading towards the antiques shop on the other side of town.