You inspired me! This takes place sometime post-campaign, hope you enjoy :)
*~*
Essek froze mid-motion in assembling the final pieces of his new leylocation device. The fact that he recognized the unexpected voice in his remote, Issylran safe-house as Artagan’s did not do much to ease the sudden knot of nerves in his stomach. He slowly straightened and turned to find the Archfey looking around the plain, one-room cottage with an air of vague disappointment, the bright-green, arcane afterglow of his magical arrival fizzling out into the air around him.
“I expected you to have more style.”
He sauntered the short distance across the cottage, gawking at Essek’s spell components, books, and devices and side-eyeing the white, cob walls, roughly-hewn furniture, and thatched roof in turn.
“Traveler,” Essek greeted with all his courtly politeness, bowing slightly and then rising into a hover. “To what do I owe this…” Pleasure seemed like a stretch. He had met Artagan before, of course, but done his best to keep his distance. He trusted Jester, but he did not trust this Archfey with the power to pass himself off as a god, no matter how much she loved him. “… visit.” He shifted slightly in an attempt to obscure the leylocation device from view as Artagan approached the workbench.
The Traveler leaned over his notes with a cursory curiosity. “Ever since they put down that beastly Uk'otoa–” There was a disembodied chorus of whispered Uk'otoas as his green cape fluttered in a nonexistent breeze. “–Jester’s had a fair bit of time on her hands at sea, and she’s gotten very good at summoning me, I’m afraid.” He was quite close, now. Uncomfortably close.
“Are you working on something?” He asked with a grin, leaning sideways to peer over Essek’s shoulder, forcing Essek to move back half a step to maintain the tiniest bit of personal space.
“As a matter of fact, I am,” he replied smoothly, smiling with teeth. “I am a very busy man, you know.”
“Are you?” Artagan gave another dubious look around the cottage.
“What is the reason for your visit, Traveler?”
A positively wicked grin spread across the Archfey’s face that Essek did not like the look of one bit. Caleb’s Produce Flame began to burn the tips of his fingers in anticipation.
“Jester wished me to run an errand for her.”
Artagan lunged forward and the fire flew from Essek’s fingertips. He knocked Essek off balance, dragging him out of his hover and into his arms as the edges of his capes caught alight in purple flame. There was a bright flash of green light, and –
“Here he is, Jester!” Artagan called out, delightedly.
Essek twisted around furiously in his arms, taking in the surroundings of an unfamiliar city at twilight and a certain blue tiefling sitting at a patio table.
“Omigosh, Essek, you have to try this stew! It will change your life!”
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