Stories by Sarah Danielle
Stories by Sarah Danielle
The Woeful Tale of Oleander Pierce
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The Woeful Tale of Oleander Pierce

A Bonus episode and update on Forsaken by Shadows.

Welcome friends!

I’m still enjoying a summer production break, but that doesn’t mean the work on Forsaken by Shadows has ceased! I am working hard on writing season three, while season two is in the process of being beta-read by some incredible readers. Their feedback has been challenging, encouraging, and invaluable to the quality of the story going forward.

I will begin heavy revisions in August 2022 and aim to begin producing and posting episodes mid-late August or early September.

So hang in there! Our regularly scheduled tour of the Underdark will be returning soon! And I promise, the darkness is relenting.

In the meantime, I’d like to share with you brief character introduction I wrote up on my lunch break a few days ago. Oleander Pierce is a Yuan-ti Rogue I created for a one-shot D&D game produced by Sojourner’s Awake. The world Oleander lives in is called Bonzarel, a creation of Jonathon, the producer and DM of the podcast.

I cannot recommend this podcast enough. If you find yourself intrigued by Oleander’s world, definitely check out the Bookish and the Brave and the spinoff seasons. You’ll find thrilling stories, a vibrant setting, and unforgettable characters.


The Woeful Tale of Oleander Pierce

My name is Oleander Pierce, and yeah. That’s my real name. Or as real as any name gets when no one knows where you came from or who your parents are and they don’t really care enough to find out anyway so they just call you Oleander because you’re “as pretty as a flower.” 

And if you think that being named after a flower is a terribly cruel and degrading thing to do to a young boy growing up on the mean streets of Bochen, then congratulations. You are absolutely right. But hey, that’s not my sad story. Actually, it turned out to be a bit of a blessing. Because you know what else Oleander is besides pretty? 

Poisonous. So, incredibly poisonous. It’s not even hard to grow and harvest.

Facts I never would have known if it wasn’t for all these pretentious adults cooing over how pretty my eyes were. 

And wouldn’t you know it, kids who can brew up deadly toxins turn out to have a good life in the criminal underworld. Especially when they develop weird psychic abilities no one can explain, like the power to link minds for telepathic conversations. You know who pays a kid well to join their heist for the benefit of silent comms? A lot of people. And when that kid can also make knives with his brain power, that kid gets to be in control of who he works for. 

So yeah. My childhood in Bochen was great. I was never short of friends and my belly was always full. I even got an education and learned how to read. Not bad for a street rat. 

But like the idiot that I am, I couldn’t be content with it. Oh, no. I had to go on and swallow the lie that I was meant for “bigger” and “better” things. So at the ripe old age of nineteen, I got a career change. I went from petty theft and grand larceny to the respectable (and far more deadly) business of historical artifact recovery. 

In other words, treasure hunting. 

Hey, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. Once you’ve experienced the euphoric rush of blood-pounding ecstasy that comes when you finally get that stupid chevron to lock down in that stupid puzzle that some long-dead tyrant’s stupid fanatical followers concocted to send hardworking tomb raiders like me to meet Grav in Respiro, and then find yourself standing in a room of ancient fortunes long un-beheld, pickpocketing just loses its appeal.

And man did I love artifact recovery. Sure, it’s a bigger enterprise. You need a whole team and then the loot gets split. The jobs take longer and the work hits harder. But that blood rush, that high, that payout at the end is worth it. Oh so very worth it. 

I got to see the whole world. From Myadaxxar to Tethyrna, even into the Scorch. I’ve seen places most Bochen kids don’t even get to hear stories about, and I’ve lived adventures the best in Dreamland couldn’t author. 

I was sailing high on a road to early retirement, and nothing was going to hold me down. 

Until I met my Lady Chronolia, and it all came to a screeching halt. 

Okay, fine. I didn’t really meet Chronolia. But I was in her temple, so I’d like to think she was watching when I made a colossal fool of myself. In hindsight, I should have seen it coming. The snake motifs were everywhere, but we were in the jungles of Fresen. If this particular brand of religious zealots wanted to believe Chronolia visited them in serpent skin, who was I to say otherwise? 

Well, as it turned out, there was more to the stucco than a scaley theme.  And I’m not a complete idiot. Everyone knows that mysteriously lost treasure hoards are guarded by puzzles, traps, zombies, and curses. The latter two are usually related. 

Anyway, there we were. Standing before the great ‘Vault of Time,’ which was supposedly full of the greatest treasure in all Bonzarel. I had some serious doubts about that. Everyone claims their ancient civilization is home to the ‘greatest treasure’ in all the land. But hey, I don’t need ‘greatest’ treasure.  I’ll settle for mediocre treasure. Gold is gold, and I’m not picky. 

Of course, most scholars agreed Chronolia’s great treasure wasn’t gold, but secret knowledge privy only to the goddess of time herself. Great wisdom of the ages, great mysteries unraveled. Great, great, great. Everything is great. But if you had asked twenty-five-year-old Oleander, he’d have told you that no one bothers booby trapping books and knowledge. 

Hah. That kid was cute. 

So anyway. Codes had been broken. Puzzles were solved. All traps survived. Well, mostly. We lost two to the pit of swords, but accidents happen in this industry. Regardless, we were all professionals. We knew what was on the other side of that enchanted stone door. Curses and zombies. 

And gold. 

My curse-breaker did his job. Disenchanted the door, swept for curses, declared it safe. I picked the lock, that exhilarating blood flood gearing up in my head.

And then the door swung open. 

There was no gold. 

There were no zombies.

There was only the curse, except moron me didn’t know it. 

All we saw was a big, empty room, with a pedestal in the middle. When I stepped in, a great (it’s always great) sparkling light materialized in the dome above, illuminating an exquisite map of the realms and stars. It would have been awesome to behold if I wasn’t too busy being ticked off that we’d done all that work for no pay-out. 

In an excellent display of intelligence, I marched right up to that pedestal, hoping to find another stupid puzzle to solve, because at least then we’d have a lead to follow. When I got there, I found it wasn’t a pedestal but a sundial, accurately displaying the time we knew it to be outside. 

Pretty cool, but not untold manifolds of riches and glory cool. 

In my frustration, I pounded my fist on the dial. 

Now, let me back up a minute. I’m usually a pretty patient guy. I don’t usually get all hot and bothered over things going awry. But it had already been a long day. We’d lost two men and my curse-breaker was particularly annoying. I was running low on funds and what I had left was allocated to pay the folk who’d traveled with me. And did I mention we were in the jungle? The hot, humid, buggy jungle? 

So yeah. I got a little mad in that empty room. Yeah, for once I allowed myself to show a little bit of my frustration. And do you know what I got for it? 

You guessed it. Cursed. 

I would have preferred zombies. 

Here’s a fun fact. When most scholars believe a ‘great treasure trove’ is in reference to divine knowledge, you as a twenty-five-year-old thief are probably not smarter than them. 

The minute my hand slammed down on the stone, I was in another world. The crew said I just stood there, my eyes rolled up in the back of my head and shaking. Me? I stood in the void between time and space, reeling through the worst existential crisis this side of Interva. 

Here’s another fun fact. Divine secrets of knowledge and time are only bestowed on the ‘worthy’. Who are the worthy, you ask? Beats me, because it sure wasn’t me. All I got for my brilliant display of cunning and courage was a crappy consolation prize. 

It wasn’t all bad. I did get some knowledge that day. Knowledge of Energia, Chronolia’s sister whom she plotted to murder. Didn’t know that until the story came crashing into my head along with the guilt as if I’d done the deed myself. And with the knowledge came the Sight. Now I see Energia everywhere she manifests, and my body is resilient to her effects. Resilient to poison as well (don’t ask me how I know). 

Sounds like a cool boon, right? Well, don’t forget this is a curse. 

Remember those pretty eyes of mine? Not so pretty anymore. When they slid back from viewing gods-know-what they had changed, and so had my face. I have serpent eyes now, gold like the metal I crave and slit with blackness down the middle. I have scales around my neck, scales around my scalp. Scales on my shoulders and knuckles. When my curse-breaker saw my eyes, he screamed and ran. 

We’d faced mummies in the Scorch and vampires in dark delves. And he looked at me and screamed

I don’t look that bad. 

Do you know they actually tried to leave me down there? Talk about an over-reaction. But I guess the room did start filling with snakes, something I would have been a lot more concerned about if I didn’t suddenly develop a kinship with the reptile. 

I know what you’re thinking. A bit of snake eyes and scales in exchange for seeing magic and resisting poison? Sounds like a great trade for a treasure hunter—er, Ancient Artifact Recovery Specialist. What am I complaining about? 

Well, okay, it is kind of a cool perk to my job. But I’m a social guy. I like making friends. It’s not so easy anymore when you give people the same skin-crawling dread as a cobra lurking in a cellar.

All I’m saying is, when I walk into a pub and sidle up to a nice respectable young lady and buy her a nice respectable mug of ale, I’d like to have the adventure of seeing where the night might take us. 

There’s no mystery anymore because it always goes the same way. She takes her nice respectable drink and flashes me her nice respectable smile but the moment her batting eyes touch mine, that smile vanishes, and cold sweat beads on her forehead. Suddenly she’s got somewhere to go or someone to see and I’m just a loser hanging out at a bar by myself. It gets kinda lonely, ya know? 

And don’t even get me started on the ladies who don’t mind my serpent eyes. No thanks. I might be a snake-possessed Bochen-bred criminal, but I still have my standards. Any girl who’s into scales and fangs is not a girl you want to be hanging around with. Trust me

It’s not just the ladies, though. Even my old friends don’t want to hang around me anymore. You’d think with my newfound magic-seeing superpower, along with my already epic psychic abilities, they’d be all over the opportunities. But no. Apparently I’m “unsettling to behold” and “sold my soul to Grapsen”. 

So yeah, I’m between jobs right now. I even went back to Bochen, and the crew wanted nothing to do with me. Told me I could get a job with House Basille, but I passed on that. If there’s any bloke creepier than me, it’s definitely that Lord Basille guy. 

So, I ended up at the one place where they don’t actually care about what sort of horrifying snake-possessed monster you are, so long as you have a nice juicy morsel of book to offer up. That gate-keeper fellow didn’t even blink twice at me, which makes me wonder what kind of place Bald Top Library is if they’ve seen weirder than me. 

But hey, it’s a steady paycheck and a chance to get to the bottom of this curse. And, maybe, discover a few new ancient civilizations to pillage along the way. 

Did I say pillage? I meant ‘recover’. 

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Thank you to Jonathan with Sojourner’s Awake for allowing me to use his wonderful setting to create in!

Thank you to Tabletop Audio for their beautiful music and ambience, featured in the recording!

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Stories by Sarah Danielle
Stories by Sarah Danielle
Original Fantasy stories written and recorded by me—Sarah Danielle.
Current work: Forsaken by Shadows.
Inspired by the work of R.A. Salvatore, this redemption tale is set in Dungeons and Dragons' Forgotten Realms setting. This dark fantasy story follows the story of a young half-elf girl as she struggles to survive enslavement to dark elves, and the drow prince who finds his life radically altered the day he meets her.