Encounterlogs
Janettes Odd Encountersrryan
During her visit to a quaint cafe within the Black Rose Bookstore, Janette's world is thrown into disarray as she discovers a break-in at her scarcely furnished home, where she intends to welcome her beloved. Navigating by the chilly drafts, she identifies the source of intrusion—a broken window. An intense sense of violation courses through her as she realizes her altar to the Celtic gods has been robbed of a spiritually potent statue. Aware that conventional authorities wouldn't comprehend its true significance, Janette resolves to retrieve the hallowed piece before its sacred energy could be exploited for malevolent endeavors. She contacts otherworldly allies and reflects on the Goblin Market as a potential lead or destination for the stolen artifact.
As Janette resolves to reclaim the stolen statue, she uncovers a medallion that holds the key to the enigmatic Goblin Market—an avenue of trade and information among the supernatural community. With the medallion and her occult expertise, she enters the Market, ready to confront its dangers. Her spectral form threads through the bustling stalls, guided by intuition, until it lands in a tavern. Here, face-to-face with King Arawn, Janette seeks aid. Acknowledging her devotion, the god offers a glimpse of the thief, setting Janette on a perilous path within the market. Armed with Arawn’s clue and a caution to be wary, Janette departs, her determination unwavering. Next week's continuation promises to unravel the mystery surrounding Janette and the fate of the stolen sanctified statue.
style="color:#008000"> (Janette's odd encounter(SRRyan):SRRyan)
[Tue Nov 14 2023]
In the Cafe of Black Rose Book Store
Large columns support the high ceiling which has
a large stained glass roof that, in the day time
at least, dapples the small cafe below in shades
of rosy reds, greens and dark gray shadows. Each
of the black painted columns are ornamented with
leafy vines that wind their way around them. The
walls are covered from ceiling down with crimson
lake hued wallpaper, embossed in a subtle raised
pattern of more of the blooms that lend the shop
its name. From roughly head height the wallpaper
gives way to darkly stained wood panelling which
then gives way to similar dark hard wood floors.
In the center of the room is a circular counter,
inside of which serves as the hub for the little
cafe that offers patrons a place to sit and read
while snacking or sipping on some coffee or tea.
It is about 50F(10C) degrees.
(Your target finds their home has been broken into and a powerful artifact has been stolen. They need to track down the thief and retrieve the artifact before it can be used for nefarious purposes.)
Janette listens quietly to the woman's fast fading footsteps, rolling her eyes in the barista's direction the second the door to the shop clicks shut. "For fuck's sake... she works here?" she laments, rubbing her her cheek with the heel of her palm.
Coming home from the bookstore, Janette has been making a home for herself and her beloved, who is on his way to town to reside with her in this very house. With very minimal furnishings, all of Janette's things have been packed into boxes from the move, except for some very important things having to do with Janette's religion. Her alter to the celtic gods now lies vacant, something very important is missing from it, and as Janette can feel a draft coming from within the house, a window must be broken.
Janette pauses half-way down the hallway, brows furrowed as she tries to determine where the chill night air might be coming from. She pads around for a bit, face tilting towards the faint cold gusts, until she finds the broken casement at one of the small windows overlooking the back garden. She quickly jumps back, trying to avoid grounding the broken glass into the carpet for what good it'll do, the damn thing is probably ruined anyway. Crouching, she holds up her phone and switches on the flashlight, positioning it just behind her ear and moving it carefully around, squinting at the floor to catch tiny reflected flashes from the broken glass. Not an accurate visualisation, but better that than feeling around pointy glass shards. She hurries off to make a quick check of the house, counting boxes and making sure they're all still closed, then seems to remember something and makes a dash for the altar to feel carefully over its surface.
Carefully navigating around the broken shards, her hands trace the contours of her familiar space, now tainted with the violation of her privacy. The boxes containing her belongings appear untouched, but an unsettling feeling grows as she approaches her sacred altar. As her fingers glide over the altar's surface, immediately noticing the absence of the small statue dedicated to one of the Celtic gods. The theft of this revered item sends a wave of distress through Janette. This statue isn't just a symbol of her faith
Carefully navigating around the broken shards, her hands trace the contours of her familiar space, now tainted with the violation of her privacy. The boxes containing her belongings appear untouched, but an unsettling feeling grows as she approaches her sacred altar. As her fingers glide over the altar's surface, immediately noticing the absence of the small statue dedicated to one of the Celtic gods. The theft of this revered item sends a wave of distress through Janette. This statue isn't just a symbol of her faith, it holds significant spiritual power. In the wrong hands, its energies could be misused for malevolent purposes.
Janette ponders her next steps. The police won't understand the true value of the stolen statue. Her thoughts turn towards seeking help within her supernatural circles. Perhaps a local seer, known for her connections with the unseen, could provide insight into the theft. Alternatively, The Goblin Market, a place to buy not just supernatural items, but also information, might hold clues or whispers about the statue's whereabouts, or could have possibly have been fenced within. (fix)
Quickly fishing out her phone, Janette listens attentively as she scrolls through her contacts, a short list as it were. She mutters a curse, one hand reaching up to touch the silver pentacle resting comfortably against her breastbone, fingertips lovingly tracing the tiny shifting runes etched deep into the metal. No key... Her eyes widen at a sudden thought, and she makes a beeline for the packed boxes again, carefully reading each lable with a deft touch. It takes her a moment, but she finally finds what she's looking for and tears open the flaps, fishing out what looks to be a large mass of bubblewrap closed in electrical tape. Slender dextrous fingers lovingly peal away each strip, unfolding the airy plastic to pull out a hexagonal medallion with a large symbol engraved on the front. A sword crossed with a scroll.
As Janette's fingers trace the hexagonal medallion's contours, she feels the engraved symbol of the sword crossed with a scroll. This isn't just any artifact
As Janette's fingers trace the hexagonal medallion's contours, she feels the engraved symbol of the sword crossed with a scroll. This isn't just any artifact, it's a key to the mysterious and elusive Goblin Market, a place where supernatural beings and humans clandestinely trade magical items and information.
Realizing the potential of the medallion, Janette's mind races with possibilities. The stolen statue, a sacred representation of a Celtic god, is not just a religious artifact but also a powerful magical object. It could wreak havoc if misused, especially within the Goblin Market's shadowy confines. Gathering her courage and the essentials, she prepares to venture into this hidden realm. The Goblin Market isn't a place for the uninitiated, but Janette's knowledge of the occult and her blind intuition have always guided her in the darkness. She steps out into the night, her senses heightened. The familiar streets take on a different shade as she moves towards the location where the Goblin Market appears on certain nights, known only to a few. The air thickens with the energy of hidden magic as she nears the entrance, a narrow, inconspicuous alleyway between two old buildings. Whispering the incantation and holding the medallion aloft, she waits for the Market to reveal itself to her.
A stone hallway appears behind the revealed door as she opens the magical door to the Goblin Market. Plenty of others are shuffling their way through, looking over alchemical ingredients, speaking quietly in information trade, buying and selling artifacts, and various other business.
Cane in hand and the medallion now tucked safely in her pocket, Janette navigates her way through the dim indoor market with purpose, pausing only a few times to draw upon some recollection of moments long past and gone. She passes the arcives without a second glance, evidently determining that for all its treasured knowledge it won't hold what secrets she's looking to find. She ducks into a quiet side alley, taking a moment to lean against the wall and listen carefully for the tell-tale shuffling of another presence against the bare stone before closing her eyes, her hand reaching up to the pentacle a second time this night. She lowers herself into a seating position, her body relaxing into a trance-like state as her spector calmly steps out to the middle of the alley, flitting through the shadows with determination to utilise this new advantage that does not require her ears. She quickly makes her way back towards the market proper, scanning the people and nearby stalls with a dark expression until her eyes snag on a door far to the north which seems to lead to a tavern of sorts. Not bothering with it, she casually steps through the stone wall to check the interior, not even caring now about being seen by who or whatever is nuts enough to drink the dark earthy sludge passing for tea that bestows upon the hapless fools the gift of third sight, noting every face and their positions at each table before vanishing just as quickly, only to physically reappear at the door some minutes later, the cane in her hand making her all but inconspicuous.
Janette's spectral presence glides effortlessly through the Goblin Market, her cane a mere echo of her physical self as she traverses the shadowy pathways of this hidden realm. The ambient noise of the market fades into a dull murmur, her focus sharpens on the task at hand. The door leading to the tavern lingers in her mind, a beacon pulling her towards potential clues. Navigating the crowded space with the grace of someone attuned to worlds beyond the ordinary, she reaches the tavern door. The pungent aroma of the dark, earthy tea wafts through the air, mingling with a myriad of other otherworldly scents. She pauses, her hand on the door handle, gathering her resolve. With a determined push, Janette enters the tavern. Unseen by those engrossed in their mystical and mundane beverages, her spector surveys the room, her keen intuition scanning for any sign of the stolen statue or its thief. Each patron, lost in their own dealings and conversations, seems oblivious to her presence. Janette moves methodically, her cane tapping softly on the wooden floor, a rhythmic sound that barely registers above the low hum of the tavern's activity. Her intuition leads her towards a secluded corner of the room. There, shrouded in shadows, sits a solitary figure whose aura pulsates with a strange energy. Janette's heart quickens; something about this individual feels connected to her quest. Approaching cautiously, she prepares to confront the figure, her grip on the cane tightening. The key to the Goblin Market, safely tucked away, seems to throb in response to the proximity of this mysterious person.
The thunderous reverberating beats of Janette's heart reach to her eardrums, but definitely not her expression as she slides silently into the seat across from the figure cloaked in shadow while strangely casting none. Folding her cane in two and laying it cross-wise on her lap, the fingers of her right hand wrapped tight around tip and handle both like the hilt of a shortsword ready to arc upwards in a parry, she waits a long moment as she levels her sightless gaze to the figure, confidence and determination plasterd firmly like a mask on her features. After a minute or so, she slowly, fractionally inclines her head to the figure, the corners of her mouth querked up in a faint smile, her voice a quiet sultry murmur when she addresses him. "King Arawn."
The figure across from Janette remains still for a moment, an almost imperceptible tension hanging in the air. Then, slowly, the shadowed figure leans forward into the dim light, revealing a face marked by sharp, angular features and eyes that glimmer with an otherworldly intelligence. The name 'King Arawn' seems to weigh heavily in the space between them. An icy breath comes out from the form as it speaks; a cold winter wind of a breath, "Hir yw'r dydd a hir yw'r nos, a hir yw aros Arawn." the figure states and then speaks back in English "Long is the day and long is the night, and long is the waiting of Arawn." His gaze upon Janette is piercing, yet not unkind. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit? I hear your prayers and you are one of our devoted. It is not yet my time, but my Hounds ride through the skies. Beseech what thou will and suffer if I am vexed by your mere mortal accounts."
Janette wastes no time with arcaic thiatrics, a testament to her opinion of the situation at hand. "The idol is stolen," she tells him, her level tone serious though she at least knows better than to meet his gaze. "I would find the fool who dares so despoil my Lord's likeness." A brief pause follows before she adds, "And it is sanctified..."
King Arawn listens intently to Janette's words, his expression a mask of ancient wisdom and otherworldly knowledge. The mention of the stolen idol seems to resonate with him, a faint flicker of interest crossing his features. "The sanctity of such an idol is not to be taken lightly," he responds, his voice carrying the weight of centuries. "Its theft is an affront not only to you but to the balance of powers beyond the mortal realm." He leans back, contemplating her request. "The paths of the Goblin Market are twisted and many. To find your idol, you must navigate these paths with care and cunning. But I can offer you a clue to set you on your path." Arawn's hand moves in a subtle gesture, and the air before him shimmers with a faint light. An image appears, showing a shadowy figure cloaked in darkness, slipping through the market with a bundle clutched tightly. "This being was seen in the deeper recesses of the market, beyond where many dare to tread. Seek them out, and you may find your idol."
After showing her the vision, He utters a warning "Be wary, Janette. The Goblin Market is a place of tricks and treachery. Trust not what you see, and guard your heart against deceit."
"Yeah, that's not so much a problem," Janette says as she makes to rise from her seat. "Eyes can't deceive with what they can't see." Turning back to the night-cloaked lord of Anwn she bows her head again, the gesture reverential. "I will right this injustice by your grace," she vows to him, her voice and posture determined before she turns to go.
As Janette stands and offers her vow, King Arawn watches her with an expression that is both inscrutable and yet filled with a profound understanding. There is a sense of ancient power about him, a timeless sovereignty that seems to transcend the boundaries of the mundane world. "Your resolve is commendable, Janette," Arawn speaks, his voice resonating with a depth that seems to echo from ages past. "May your journey be guided by the wisdom of the unseen and the strength of your conviction." With those parting words, he waves his hand and Janette's spectral form returns to her body. The sensations of the Market surround her, the air thick with the scents of exotic spices, the sounds of haggling voices, and the sights of strange wares displayed in abundance. Janette moves with confidence, her blindness no hindrance in this place of deception and illusion. She knows that the path ahead will be challenging, filled with cunning traps and deceitful characters, but she is undeterred. Her mission is clear to recover the stolen idol and restore the sanctity that has been violated.
As she delves deeper into the labyrinth of stalls and shadowy alleys, Janette's senses sharpen, her mind focused on the task at hand. Somewhere in this den of tricksters and thieves lies the key to retrieving what was lost. And she will find it, guided by the blessings of King Arawn and her own unwavering determination. The journey has just begun, and the secrets of the Goblin Market await.
Join us next week when we find out what happens to Janette and the missing sanctified statue!
As Janette resolves to reclaim the stolen statue, she uncovers a medallion that holds the key to the enigmatic Goblin Market—an avenue of trade and information among the supernatural community. With the medallion and her occult expertise, she enters the Market, ready to confront its dangers. Her spectral form threads through the bustling stalls, guided by intuition, until it lands in a tavern. Here, face-to-face with King Arawn, Janette seeks aid. Acknowledging her devotion, the god offers a glimpse of the thief, setting Janette on a perilous path within the market. Armed with Arawn’s clue and a caution to be wary, Janette departs, her determination unwavering. Next week's continuation promises to unravel the mystery surrounding Janette and the fate of the stolen sanctified statue.
style="color:#008000"> (Janette's odd encounter(SRRyan):SRRyan)
[Tue Nov 14 2023]
In the Cafe of Black Rose Book Store
Large columns support the high ceiling which has
a large stained glass roof that, in the day time
at least, dapples the small cafe below in shades
of rosy reds, greens and dark gray shadows. Each
of the black painted columns are ornamented with
leafy vines that wind their way around them. The
walls are covered from ceiling down with crimson
lake hued wallpaper, embossed in a subtle raised
pattern of more of the blooms that lend the shop
its name. From roughly head height the wallpaper
gives way to darkly stained wood panelling which
then gives way to similar dark hard wood floors.
In the center of the room is a circular counter,
inside of which serves as the hub for the little
cafe that offers patrons a place to sit and read
while snacking or sipping on some coffee or tea.
It is about 50F(10C) degrees.
(Your target finds their home has been broken into and a powerful artifact has been stolen. They need to track down the thief and retrieve the artifact before it can be used for nefarious purposes.)
Janette listens quietly to the woman's fast fading footsteps, rolling her eyes in the barista's direction the second the door to the shop clicks shut. "For fuck's sake... she works here?" she laments, rubbing her her cheek with the heel of her palm.
Coming home from the bookstore, Janette has been making a home for herself and her beloved, who is on his way to town to reside with her in this very house. With very minimal furnishings, all of Janette's things have been packed into boxes from the move, except for some very important things having to do with Janette's religion. Her alter to the celtic gods now lies vacant, something very important is missing from it, and as Janette can feel a draft coming from within the house, a window must be broken.
Janette pauses half-way down the hallway, brows furrowed as she tries to determine where the chill night air might be coming from. She pads around for a bit, face tilting towards the faint cold gusts, until she finds the broken casement at one of the small windows overlooking the back garden. She quickly jumps back, trying to avoid grounding the broken glass into the carpet for what good it'll do, the damn thing is probably ruined anyway. Crouching, she holds up her phone and switches on the flashlight, positioning it just behind her ear and moving it carefully around, squinting at the floor to catch tiny reflected flashes from the broken glass. Not an accurate visualisation, but better that than feeling around pointy glass shards. She hurries off to make a quick check of the house, counting boxes and making sure they're all still closed, then seems to remember something and makes a dash for the altar to feel carefully over its surface.
Carefully navigating around the broken shards, her hands trace the contours of her familiar space, now tainted with the violation of her privacy. The boxes containing her belongings appear untouched, but an unsettling feeling grows as she approaches her sacred altar. As her fingers glide over the altar's surface, immediately noticing the absence of the small statue dedicated to one of the Celtic gods. The theft of this revered item sends a wave of distress through Janette. This statue isn't just a symbol of her faith
Carefully navigating around the broken shards, her hands trace the contours of her familiar space, now tainted with the violation of her privacy. The boxes containing her belongings appear untouched, but an unsettling feeling grows as she approaches her sacred altar. As her fingers glide over the altar's surface, immediately noticing the absence of the small statue dedicated to one of the Celtic gods. The theft of this revered item sends a wave of distress through Janette. This statue isn't just a symbol of her faith, it holds significant spiritual power. In the wrong hands, its energies could be misused for malevolent purposes.
Janette ponders her next steps. The police won't understand the true value of the stolen statue. Her thoughts turn towards seeking help within her supernatural circles. Perhaps a local seer, known for her connections with the unseen, could provide insight into the theft. Alternatively, The Goblin Market, a place to buy not just supernatural items, but also information, might hold clues or whispers about the statue's whereabouts, or could have possibly have been fenced within. (fix)
Quickly fishing out her phone, Janette listens attentively as she scrolls through her contacts, a short list as it were. She mutters a curse, one hand reaching up to touch the silver pentacle resting comfortably against her breastbone, fingertips lovingly tracing the tiny shifting runes etched deep into the metal. No key... Her eyes widen at a sudden thought, and she makes a beeline for the packed boxes again, carefully reading each lable with a deft touch. It takes her a moment, but she finally finds what she's looking for and tears open the flaps, fishing out what looks to be a large mass of bubblewrap closed in electrical tape. Slender dextrous fingers lovingly peal away each strip, unfolding the airy plastic to pull out a hexagonal medallion with a large symbol engraved on the front. A sword crossed with a scroll.
As Janette's fingers trace the hexagonal medallion's contours, she feels the engraved symbol of the sword crossed with a scroll. This isn't just any artifact
As Janette's fingers trace the hexagonal medallion's contours, she feels the engraved symbol of the sword crossed with a scroll. This isn't just any artifact, it's a key to the mysterious and elusive Goblin Market, a place where supernatural beings and humans clandestinely trade magical items and information.
Realizing the potential of the medallion, Janette's mind races with possibilities. The stolen statue, a sacred representation of a Celtic god, is not just a religious artifact but also a powerful magical object. It could wreak havoc if misused, especially within the Goblin Market's shadowy confines. Gathering her courage and the essentials, she prepares to venture into this hidden realm. The Goblin Market isn't a place for the uninitiated, but Janette's knowledge of the occult and her blind intuition have always guided her in the darkness. She steps out into the night, her senses heightened. The familiar streets take on a different shade as she moves towards the location where the Goblin Market appears on certain nights, known only to a few. The air thickens with the energy of hidden magic as she nears the entrance, a narrow, inconspicuous alleyway between two old buildings. Whispering the incantation and holding the medallion aloft, she waits for the Market to reveal itself to her.
A stone hallway appears behind the revealed door as she opens the magical door to the Goblin Market. Plenty of others are shuffling their way through, looking over alchemical ingredients, speaking quietly in information trade, buying and selling artifacts, and various other business.
Cane in hand and the medallion now tucked safely in her pocket, Janette navigates her way through the dim indoor market with purpose, pausing only a few times to draw upon some recollection of moments long past and gone. She passes the arcives without a second glance, evidently determining that for all its treasured knowledge it won't hold what secrets she's looking to find. She ducks into a quiet side alley, taking a moment to lean against the wall and listen carefully for the tell-tale shuffling of another presence against the bare stone before closing her eyes, her hand reaching up to the pentacle a second time this night. She lowers herself into a seating position, her body relaxing into a trance-like state as her spector calmly steps out to the middle of the alley, flitting through the shadows with determination to utilise this new advantage that does not require her ears. She quickly makes her way back towards the market proper, scanning the people and nearby stalls with a dark expression until her eyes snag on a door far to the north which seems to lead to a tavern of sorts. Not bothering with it, she casually steps through the stone wall to check the interior, not even caring now about being seen by who or whatever is nuts enough to drink the dark earthy sludge passing for tea that bestows upon the hapless fools the gift of third sight, noting every face and their positions at each table before vanishing just as quickly, only to physically reappear at the door some minutes later, the cane in her hand making her all but inconspicuous.
Janette's spectral presence glides effortlessly through the Goblin Market, her cane a mere echo of her physical self as she traverses the shadowy pathways of this hidden realm. The ambient noise of the market fades into a dull murmur, her focus sharpens on the task at hand. The door leading to the tavern lingers in her mind, a beacon pulling her towards potential clues. Navigating the crowded space with the grace of someone attuned to worlds beyond the ordinary, she reaches the tavern door. The pungent aroma of the dark, earthy tea wafts through the air, mingling with a myriad of other otherworldly scents. She pauses, her hand on the door handle, gathering her resolve. With a determined push, Janette enters the tavern. Unseen by those engrossed in their mystical and mundane beverages, her spector surveys the room, her keen intuition scanning for any sign of the stolen statue or its thief. Each patron, lost in their own dealings and conversations, seems oblivious to her presence. Janette moves methodically, her cane tapping softly on the wooden floor, a rhythmic sound that barely registers above the low hum of the tavern's activity. Her intuition leads her towards a secluded corner of the room. There, shrouded in shadows, sits a solitary figure whose aura pulsates with a strange energy. Janette's heart quickens; something about this individual feels connected to her quest. Approaching cautiously, she prepares to confront the figure, her grip on the cane tightening. The key to the Goblin Market, safely tucked away, seems to throb in response to the proximity of this mysterious person.
The thunderous reverberating beats of Janette's heart reach to her eardrums, but definitely not her expression as she slides silently into the seat across from the figure cloaked in shadow while strangely casting none. Folding her cane in two and laying it cross-wise on her lap, the fingers of her right hand wrapped tight around tip and handle both like the hilt of a shortsword ready to arc upwards in a parry, she waits a long moment as she levels her sightless gaze to the figure, confidence and determination plasterd firmly like a mask on her features. After a minute or so, she slowly, fractionally inclines her head to the figure, the corners of her mouth querked up in a faint smile, her voice a quiet sultry murmur when she addresses him. "King Arawn."
The figure across from Janette remains still for a moment, an almost imperceptible tension hanging in the air. Then, slowly, the shadowed figure leans forward into the dim light, revealing a face marked by sharp, angular features and eyes that glimmer with an otherworldly intelligence. The name 'King Arawn' seems to weigh heavily in the space between them. An icy breath comes out from the form as it speaks; a cold winter wind of a breath, "Hir yw'r dydd a hir yw'r nos, a hir yw aros Arawn." the figure states and then speaks back in English "Long is the day and long is the night, and long is the waiting of Arawn." His gaze upon Janette is piercing, yet not unkind. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit? I hear your prayers and you are one of our devoted. It is not yet my time, but my Hounds ride through the skies. Beseech what thou will and suffer if I am vexed by your mere mortal accounts."
Janette wastes no time with arcaic thiatrics, a testament to her opinion of the situation at hand. "The idol is stolen," she tells him, her level tone serious though she at least knows better than to meet his gaze. "I would find the fool who dares so despoil my Lord's likeness." A brief pause follows before she adds, "And it is sanctified..."
King Arawn listens intently to Janette's words, his expression a mask of ancient wisdom and otherworldly knowledge. The mention of the stolen idol seems to resonate with him, a faint flicker of interest crossing his features. "The sanctity of such an idol is not to be taken lightly," he responds, his voice carrying the weight of centuries. "Its theft is an affront not only to you but to the balance of powers beyond the mortal realm." He leans back, contemplating her request. "The paths of the Goblin Market are twisted and many. To find your idol, you must navigate these paths with care and cunning. But I can offer you a clue to set you on your path." Arawn's hand moves in a subtle gesture, and the air before him shimmers with a faint light. An image appears, showing a shadowy figure cloaked in darkness, slipping through the market with a bundle clutched tightly. "This being was seen in the deeper recesses of the market, beyond where many dare to tread. Seek them out, and you may find your idol."
After showing her the vision, He utters a warning "Be wary, Janette. The Goblin Market is a place of tricks and treachery. Trust not what you see, and guard your heart against deceit."
"Yeah, that's not so much a problem," Janette says as she makes to rise from her seat. "Eyes can't deceive with what they can't see." Turning back to the night-cloaked lord of Anwn she bows her head again, the gesture reverential. "I will right this injustice by your grace," she vows to him, her voice and posture determined before she turns to go.
As Janette stands and offers her vow, King Arawn watches her with an expression that is both inscrutable and yet filled with a profound understanding. There is a sense of ancient power about him, a timeless sovereignty that seems to transcend the boundaries of the mundane world. "Your resolve is commendable, Janette," Arawn speaks, his voice resonating with a depth that seems to echo from ages past. "May your journey be guided by the wisdom of the unseen and the strength of your conviction." With those parting words, he waves his hand and Janette's spectral form returns to her body. The sensations of the Market surround her, the air thick with the scents of exotic spices, the sounds of haggling voices, and the sights of strange wares displayed in abundance. Janette moves with confidence, her blindness no hindrance in this place of deception and illusion. She knows that the path ahead will be challenging, filled with cunning traps and deceitful characters, but she is undeterred. Her mission is clear to recover the stolen idol and restore the sanctity that has been violated.
As she delves deeper into the labyrinth of stalls and shadowy alleys, Janette's senses sharpen, her mind focused on the task at hand. Somewhere in this den of tricksters and thieves lies the key to retrieving what was lost. And she will find it, guided by the blessings of King Arawn and her own unwavering determination. The journey has just begun, and the secrets of the Goblin Market await.
Join us next week when we find out what happens to Janette and the missing sanctified statue!