Fae and Fare (The Wandering Inn, #2)

by Pirateaba

But where was I? Oh, right. Small Guilds like that are different than what I’m saying. There it’s ‘follow the rules or get out’. But Couriers don’t answer to our Guilds in the same way. We back each other up if we’re in danger, but no one bosses anyone else around.

:) community not conformity

A hand brushed the spines on Olesm’s head and he jerked. Erin patted him gently on the head as she took a seat at the table. “There’s no reason to be mad for playing someone worse than you are. Everyone has to learn. If this guy’s mad, I’ll teach him a lesson for you.”

:)

For a second, Niers debated hunting for his razor. He would have borrowed one of his lieutenant’s blades, but he hated how they fussed over him. A dagger as large as he was was still a dagger, and he was more than strong enough to lift it. It was just awkward, that was all. Appearance trumped desire. Niers was a Level 63 [Strategist], and on his shoulders the fate of his company rested.

Oo

returning when it became apparent that, among the sterling qualities the skeleton might have, a sense of direction was not among them.

:)

Rags had no intention of forgetting it. Goblins were always afraid. Pure terror didn’t slow them down like other species; if anything, it made them fight harder. If Rags tried to use this on another tribe, she’d just get herself killed.

Hmm

She’d nodded, and the faerie had flown back in, looking smug and satisfied. “There! ‘Tis the boon fulfilled for your meager offering, Human! The hotheaded oaf will not bother you again today!”

Oh ahah that's why she helped

They had made her lord laugh. They stood here, in this place, at this time, and that meant they were trusted, favorites even of her King. For that, and that alone, Gazi hated them with all her soul.

Oo

And yet—I would have lost all in any case had I continued on my journey. My kingdom would have been shattered by blood and fire. Perhaps it was best to let it fall away. We may never know. But I have returned, and so we will begin again.

But did you learn anything from it?

She would be more worthy of serving Erin and carrying out her stupid orders. Toren paused. Stupid? They weren’t stupid orders. They were just… Just… He had to level up. He thought more, he became more with each level. But he had to protect Erin.

Esh he's hitting his teen years

Toren fell out of the snowman’s body just in time to see the Corusdeer springing away as part of the massive Snow Golem turned to water and mixed with the snow on the ground. He scrambled away and saw his sword, still embedded in the snowy giant’s side. Toren stared at the huge creation in amazement. It was a snowman. A crude sculpture of snow come to life. Technically he was a Drake, but his appearance had mutated too much to resemble his creator or any humanoid species for that matter. A while ago—perhaps near the start of Winter, a Drake child had made a snowman in the fresh snow. The energetic young Drake had given the snowman eyes made of pebbles, long sticks for arms and a tail, a mouth, and even a radish for a nose, but had forgotten the most important thing: clothes. Unprotected from the external sources, magic had entered the snowman—whether by accident or on purpose—and he had come to life. It might not have been that bad at first; for all the snowman was hostile to everything living, it wasn’t fast and it was made of loosely packed snow after all, hardly a threat.

Oo

Lyon blinked at her. Another human? Another girl? Her cold-addled brain struggled to work, and her mouth wasn’t helping. “W-w-wha—?” “I’m Erin Solstice. And you’re freezing. I have an inn nearby; can you stand?” Instinctively, Lyon tried to move her legs, but they’d been stuck in one place for too long. Erin leaned forwards and Lyon got a good look at her face. She was nothing special to look at. Part of Lyon thought that as it judged the other girl’s rough clothing, her unmannered appearance, speech, and conduct. But the other, larger part of Lyon looked at Erin and saw something shining. Erin held out a hand and smiled. And she was like the sun. She melted the cold gripping Lyon. “Come with me if you want to live. I’ve got crepes!”

:)

The [Scout] could never tell the furry people apart, but it didn’t really matter. Either gender was dangerous, so Halrac loosed three more arrows at Gnolls, striking them in their midsections and legs to hobble them. They weren’t lethal shots, and he wasn’t using arrows with points. He had a special type of arrow he used when fighting people, and the blunt arrows might cause serious damage or break bones, but they wouldn’t kill with healing potions being so plentiful.

Oo

“Quarter-giant, or eighth-giant, actually. He’s not sure, but don’t worry about it. He’s used to the stares, and so are we.” Jelaqua stood and held out a hand towards Erin. Erin took it and found the other woman’s skin was clammy and cold to the touch. She blinked, but Ceria learned forwards and explained. “Ah, Erin. These adventurers are all part-human, like me.” “Really? I mean…oh. That’s cool? I mean, not cool exactly, but it’s nice? Not that being Human is cool or nice or not being Human is bad, but—um. Sorry. Thanks for helping, and uh, nice to meet you?” Erin blushed as she stumbled over her words. She had no idea what to say, but apparently that was the right thing. Jelaqua blinked, and then burst out laughing. Even Seborn smiled, or at least, half of his face did. “We’re delighted to meet someone as open-minded as you, Miss Solstice. We would have helped anyways, but I must confess, we had a reason for helping.”

Love this team!

“Please, Ceria, calm down.” Jelaqua smiled at Ceria as she put a hand on the half-Elf’s shoulder. “We may be a Gold-rank team, but that doesn’t mean we have to hire only Gold-rank adventurers. Besides, it’s worth finding someone competent even if we have to level them up and give them a few magical items to get them started. Most importantly, you’re a half-Elf, like us. We need people we can work with, not people afraid of non-Humans.” “It’s just so sudden. I don’t know—I’m honored of course, but—” Ceria stammered, and Jelaqua shook her head. “Take your time. We just wanted to mention that. It’s part of the reason we came out here and were able to help.” Seborn nodded. “Half-species are rare enough that we knew your name. So when we heard of the dungeon, it was easy enough to make the decision to journey here.”

:) So kind.

Some of us think that’s because there’s only one level for that class. Eddy thinks it’s a special class, and most people agree with that. After all, why wouldn’t Richard level up? He’s the leader and the best fighter out of all of us. If anyone’s a hero, it’s him. Because that’s what they don’t get, the others. A hero isn’t someone who’s brave or courageous. A hero doesn’t slay monsters or rescue princesses (or princes). If you look up the word ‘hero’ in a dictionary, you get a different answer. A hero is someone admired or idealized. A hero is a person others look up to. A [Hero] is only a hero if other people think he’s a hero. Which explains how we got the class when we were summoned. Trouble is, I’m no hero. And I don’t think anyone else in our group is, either. And the more these villagers and the rest of the kingdom gets a look at us, the less they think we’re heroes as well. So we start losing the class. The villagers might have some hopes for Richard and the other fighters, but when you look at a bunch of whining, crying teenagers and young adults who argue all the time and do nothing… We’re useless. I’m the most useless, but we’re just a drain on the village.

:(

“What?” “The King thinks we were a mistake. He wants to perform the summoning ritual again and call more heroes to this world.” “How can they do that again? Isn’t there a huge cost or something?” “I think they can keep doing it so long as they’ve got enough [Mages]. They were saying that it took a lot of mana—and something else—but they want to give it another shot.” “I can’t really blame them. Can you?” Richard laughs, and looks at the hay on the stable floor. “No. I can’t either. But it’s a mistake.” It is. More people. I try to imagine that. I don’t want to see more people our age dying. Richard grasps the hilt of his sword reflexively and stares towards the doors. “I’ll try talking to the soldiers again; try to get an audience with him.” “He doesn’t listen to us. He never did.” “But I’ve got to try. It’s the right thing to do.” The right thing to do. No wonder Richard got the [Knight] class. He’s always looking out for the rest of us, and he’s got that famous Southern courtesy. He ponders as I watch him out of the corner of my eye. “If I could convince him that some of us can be the heroes he wants, then maybe he’d listen.”

Um ... no --- he'd still want more -- PARTICULARLY if you were actually as intended. He's looking for nukes & cannon fodder. Either will do.

Because that’s what a clown does. I think I get it. We make comedy out of tragedy, and pretend everything’s funny when it’s not. We… Tell jokes so no one can see the tears inside. The Troll is behind me. I see his massive shadow as he raises his club. Laughing. But he doesn’t get it. He doesn’t understand true humor. He doesn’t understand anything. I close my eyes. Sometimes you just need to let go. And let the funny inside you out. Ha. It was a pretty funny joke. Hahahaha. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA— [Clown Level 24!] [Skill – Greater Pain Tolerance Obtained.] [Skill – Devil’s Luck Obtained.] [Condition – Horrific Laughter Received.] [Condition – Lesser Insanity Received.]

well .... that's not going to be great going forward.

The other demons vary in appearance as well. One looks like he’s got fish scales, another one looks human except for the horn sticking out of his forehead, and another one is sliming from the arm. Something inside of me wants to rage out. Something in me is disappointed. Demons? These are just people with skin problems. They’re no different than humans. They work as a team—they fight and kill, and they probably fear and hate us as much as we hate them. What a crappy thing to be afraid of. But that’s not what a [Clown] does! My thoughts twist, and my lips do the same. A [Clown] points out the way the world is broken and laughs at it. I’m an entertainer. A funny guy. “Smile, smile, smile.” The Troll runs past the group of archers, ignoring their leader’s orders to stop or take a bath. And now they’re looking around. Oh my. Did I scare the big bad demons?

Oo

“Here’s the joke! All you—you people out there. You’re fighting against these humans and you think you’re the scariest things around. But here’s the funny thing: you’re just killing people like you. Ordinary people who become soldiers. We called you monsters and you believed it. But listen. You’ve never seen a real monster.” I shove the knife a bit further into her mouth and she gurgles. The whites of her eyes are showing as I bring my grinning face close to hers. I’m smiling. I can’t stop. Her rough skin rasps below my gloved hands as I whisper in her ears. “Why so serious? Can’t you take a joke?” That was cheap. But she still doesn’t hear me. The Demon officer shouts something as I drag her down the street. Towards a burning building. I can hear the horses screaming in their stable. “Shh. Shh. Let’s go say hi to the nice horsies, shall we?”

Oo

“Monster.” That’s fair. Harsh, but fair. I feel at my face. Cuts—broken skin—nothing like how I remembered leaving it. But the face paint is still mostly intact, which is the important thing. Actually, I think all that blood’s started a new layer. How avant-garde! I look around for my special friend, the Lieutenant who can’t take a joke. Is she this body? This one? No? I turn over the corpses, but find no horns—at least, not the ones I’m looking for. She’s not among them. I can’t tell if I’m disappointed or relieved. I’m aware…my thoughts aren’t quite right. I’m alive. After all of this, I’m alive. I shouldn’t be, but I’m alive. And I’m still insane.

with a touch of bipolar manic depression. :(

My friends—well, the people I arrived with can’t even look at me. I give them my best smile and they just freeze up. Or run away. But the soldiers and townspeople don’t look at me the same way. They can’t stand the carnage either. But they look towards me and the dead with a different perspective. They count. They see only enemy soldiers, and me standing surrounded by the dead. They have something else in their eyes. Fear. Fear of the unknown. But hope, too. The funniest thing. They don’t understand what I’ve done, or what I am. But I killed monsters and they think that makes me a good person. Hilarious. Sleep and waking are the same part of the nightmare. I hear the voice, those dispassionate words that aren’t said so much as projected into my mind. [Hero Level 2!] [Skill – Weapon Proficiency: Knives Obtained!] It’s so funny I can’t stop laughing. And crying. I’m a [Clown] who kills people. I’m a fat man who’s lost his funny. I’m just a guy who kills people

Killer Clown from Other places

Rags saw the black crossbow’s bolt catch the Gold Stone Chieftain in the chest and grimaced. She’d ordered her Hob archers to take the shot, and she’d also told them to try not to kill the enemy Chieftain if possible. Well, one out of two was good enough. She watched as the Chieftain fell, and wondered if he’d survive the bolt. If his Tribe surrendered quickly enough, they might be able to get a potion down to him. She had more than a few healing potions on her belt and in her tribe’s grasp, and Hobs were tough. He might survive.

Oo

Nearly two hundred Goblins and four Hobs? That was an excellent outcome, and not least because this was probably the last tribe Rags could hit safely. The Red Fang tribe was calling all the other tribes together, perhaps to absorb them, but at the very least to come after her. They’d have to retreat soon. The Gold Stone Chieftain lurched to his feet and lumbered over to Rags. She glanced up at him, and then pointed to some food her Goblins were dragging out. He nodded, and meekly walked over to eat without so much as a word of protest or moment of hesitation. That was the thing about Goblins. The Tribes might fight, but it was customary for a defeated tribe to follow the victor, regardless of what had passed before. Either that, or they left without incident; slaughtering each other as prisoners wasn’t something Goblins did, regardless of how they treated other species they captured. Neither was Rags worried about any other Goblin knifing her in the back while she stood in the snow and issued orders. Betrayal and backstabbing was not a Goblin trait, which might surprise Humans and other species. But while Goblins were completely fine with killing an enemy in their sleep, they tended to avoid that amongst themselves, at least within their own tribe.

Oo

“I’ve been running for over a week now, nonstop. All the way from Liscor.” “Far.” “Yeah, but guess what? On my way down here, not once have I been bothered by a single monster. Not one.” “That is…odd.” “Not so odd. It’s the Frost Faeries. They’ve scared away every creature around me for miles.” Urksh frowned at Ryoka, as if he wanted to doubt her. “I did not know they had such power. They are spirits of winter and can bring cold, but many things here are dangerous.” Again Ryoka laughed, bitterly. “Have you ever seen a Wyvern get taken out by a herd of faeries? They froze the damn thing two miles up in the air.” Ryoka had just heard the terrifying shriek overhead when the half-dead creature had crashed into the ground a few feet away from her. The Wyvern had been a humongous beast, nearly three times as tall as she was – a lesser Dragon without claws and dark, purple scales. She had no idea how it had even been able to lift off the ground; the impact the Wyvern had made as it hit the earth had thrown her off her feet. Worse, the faeries hadn’t actually killed the beast, and as it slowly regained consciousness and mobility as the frost dissipated, it had looked around and realized there was a nice snack nearby it could eat to warm itself up.

Oo Fae

She looked up into the sky. The Gnoll’s fire hadn’t warded off the faeries long, if they’d even been bothered by the flames. One day of respite. That was…enough, she supposed. The faeries were descending, and now Ryoka could see the expressions on their tiny faces. For once she wished she didn’t have 20/20 vision. They were smiling. For some reason, Ryoka couldn’t even get mad at that. This was what faeries were; fickle, tempestuous, but not evil. Just…themselves.

So does malevolent still work?

How can I describe it? It’s like being tired, but only in my heart. My body can feel as fresh and rested as I please, but there’s nothing in my mind, no burning passion in my soul. There’s nothing I want to do and nothing I want to strive for. That’s what I remember most about growing up. There’s a void in my heart, an empty little hole that sucks feelings into it. It waits, a small little creature growing bigger by the day until it will devour me entirely. The great beast of not caring. Or perhaps it’s the whisper of my despair. Greater yet. I am worthless. It’s true. Undeniably true. I am in a magic world, but I still can’t do anything. I can’t learn any new spells, I reject the system of classes, I can’t kill or help my friends… All these thoughts are because I’m tired right now. Tomorrow, maybe, I’ll feel better but right now I’m depressed and I know it. It makes nothing better. Because I can feel the same bad cycle in my head. It’s the same as my childhood. It’s the rhythm I run to; the beat of my life. Stay lonely. Fight with friends. Ignore my parents. Rebel. Cause trouble. Stay alone. Live in my head. Wish other people were dead. Something like that.

:(

It shouldn’t hurt. It really shouldn’t. But I’d hoped—no. I should have known better. I lower my head, bitterly. It was just a dream of a kid after all. “No gods, and no heroes. I guess superheroes were only a wish.” A petty wish from a world too weak to save itself. I close my eyes and turn away. Is that our world? A place without magic or legends? I stand. I’m done with faeries. I’m going to my tent to lie down. To think. Maybe— “Wait, wait. What did she say?” “Superhero? What’s that?” I pause with my back to the faeries. But I can’t help it. I turn. “You’ve never heard of superheroes? Superman? Batman?” I feel silly speaking those names out loud in front of actual beings of myth and legend. But the faeries exchange glances and shake their heads. “No.” “Nay.” “We have not heard of them. But if they are heroes, surely you know their story?” I hesitate. But now Mrsha looks up me. And slowly, a thought passes into my head, so slowly I can’t believe it. Of course. If the faeries left right after the dawn of pollution—the Industrial Revolution perhaps—they would never have heard of superheroes or—or anything since. Well, what does it matter? It doesn’t. It’s just a story, and a stupid one at that. Modern-day legends meant to make money by selling comic books. But I still hesitate. Once.

:)

First superheroes, but not just them. I realized something as I told the first story, and then Batman’s. These people, this world…they’ve never heard these tales. Never. And that’s a realization worth more money than— I’ll dwell on it later. Some things are worth more than gold, and that’s the look on the Frost Faerie’s faces when I told them what they’d missed. “To see a world in a grain of sand And a heaven in a wild flower, Hold infinity in the palm of your hand, And eternity in an hour.” Blake, William, Auguries of Innocence. Print. Not sure about the date or anything – the 1800’s? But the faeries had never heard those words. They had actual tears in their eyes, and some of the Gnolls looked just as moved.

:)

They’d never heard Lord of the Rings either. Hah. The entire time they swooped around my head, shouting. “They live, they live!” “Rings! Forged in darkness to bind souls! Yes! How did the Human know?” “The small folk! They remember them!” “To Mordor! To Isengard! To the ends of the earth!” “Ye shall not pass!” “Shut up!” It was the best of times and the worst of times. Actually, it was just the best of times. I told that story too, and you’d be surprised how emotional Gnolls get. They get pretty physically demonstrative too. I could close my eyes and remember a thousand times where my audience gasped or cheered or reacted with wonder and awe to stories that I’d nearly forgotten. But one moment stood out to me, as I sat beneath a dark sky full of stars and retold a moment from the Lord of the Rings. Trick memory. It was just one conversation in a three-hour long film in a quartet of movies, but I’ve always remembered it. “And Gandalf paused, and spoke. He looked at Pippin with a smile, and said ‘End? No, the journey doesn’t end here. Death is just another path, one that we all must take. The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass, and then you see it.’ And Pippin said, ‘What? Gandalf? See what?’” I look around. My audience is spellbound. I take a breath. “‘White shores, and beyond, a far green country under a swift sunrise.’”

:)

Four days after leaving the Stone Spears tribe, Ryoka realized she was smiling. It wasn’t an unnatural thing; normal human beings did it all the time. So did Ryoka. But she had trouble remembering when she’d last done it unconsciously, just because she was in a good mood. And it wasn’t even as if she was even doing something insanely fun. In fact, she was failing to do something. But it was the challenge Ryoka loved, the feeling of pushing herself hard and doing something of real worth.

:)

Ryoka looked over and saw the small faerie resting comfortably on her jacket, legs swinging. It was such an odd sight, Ryoka had to blink even though this wasn’t the first time the faeries had done it. They acted so familiar now it was eerie. But after four days—six if you counted the two in the Gnoll tribe’s camp—Ryoka had gotten to know the Frost Faeries, at least in the sense that neither side was actively trying to kill or maim the other. She told them stories, and for that they helped guide her, played less pranks on her, and generally deigned to answer her questions. Ryoka still had a definite sense that she was more ‘interesting lesser being’ than ‘equal sentient’ to them, but she took what she could get and put up with their remarks and occasional snowball to the face. And honestly, it was a small piece of wonder for a faerie, a being of the fey and myth and legend to sit on Ryoka’s shoulder. She just wished it wasn’t so cold.

:)

The faerie was in front of Ryoka, speaking urgently. But the girl’s panicked, horrified mind was unable to listen to the words. She only stopped when the massive gust of wind blew her backwards so hard she crashed into the snow with a thump. Ryoka hit something hard and she panicked, thrashing about. Was it another body? But no, it was just the ground. She tried to get back up, but a blue face was in front of her. “Human!” “W-what? What is…?” Ryoka stood up, shaking, but she stopped running. The faerie hovered in front of her, serious now, face no longer lit by mischief. “You are in danger. Do not blunder around like the fool ye are or you too will be dead.”

Aww Ivolanthe

“Oh my god. fucking…shit, shit, shit—” A dim part of me feels outraged that in a time of crisis, I don’t have the vocabulary to express myself. What am I, a middle-schooler? Even they know how to swear. But I’m scared out of my mind. I don’t even believe in a god*, but if I could pray— *By that, I mean I don’t believe in worshiping one. That gods exist, or existed, well…that’s pretty definite in this world.

Oo

Zel fit action to word as he strode out of the tent. All or nothing. The cold air was harsh on his scales. Was today the day he died? He hoped it wasn’t. But if it was, he’d go down with a claw on Ilvriss’s damned throat. He probably wouldn’t die. A captive was just what the leaders of the Walled City wanted. High-level officers and [Generals] were too valuable to lose in a small war like this. The Drake growled under his breath as he stomped through the snow. He clenched his hands as he growled. “What a burning stupid reason for a war.”

:(

The camp is in chaos. When I used the stink potion to get to the High Passes, I had it uncorked in the bottle. Ilvriss shattered it, so everyone’s getting the entire dose straight up. Some of the Drakes can function, like me, but they’re still green* and it looks like every Gnoll is rolling on the ground clutching their nose. *Green as in green in the face. Some have green scales, others have blue, yellow, black…look, I’m busy right now, okay?

:)

The enemy camp was full of running soldiers, and a thick white smoke that covered the main tent. Zel saw them running towards him, but they hadn’t even spotted the army running up the ridge yet. No, they were chasing something else. Zel grinned. “A monster attack, or reinforcements from another side? Either way, this is our chance.” He looked back as the first [Soldier] made it up towards him. Zel raised a claw into the air and shouted. “Charge!” He shot down the slope, and heard his army roaring behind him as they surged down the incline. Zel ran towards the smoke, unsure of what he’d find. Something was in the air, and it stank so horribly he wanted to gag. But he ran on, prepared for everything. Everything, except for a tall Human female sprinting out of the smoke, running as if Wyverns were on her tail. Zel’s charge faltered as he saw her sprinting away, shouting. “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu—” The Human girl wasn’t alone. Soldiers billowed out of the smoke, practically half of the camp. They paused as they saw the charging army, but the girl just turned and sprinted away from both groups.

:)

What I’m saying is that I learned to ignore other people and not react to the world around me, at least externally. I don’t show my feelings, and I keep calm most of the time as a result. “Shit, shit, shit!” Now is not one of those times. I’m currently crawling my way through a snow bank, and believe me, I’m doing it fast. Every two seconds I look around for moving shapes in the darkness, and I try not to piss myself as I do. I’m in hell. Literal hell. You want to see blood and death all around? That’s pretty much a battlefield, and this one has gone to hell, mainly thanks to me.

:( Movies wouldn't prepare you for the reality. The smell, the sound -- everything all at once.

I made a break for it twice, and found that each side was just as lost as I was. The soldiers began spreading out and fighting in groups everywhere, so that I had no idea where to run to. It’s hard being lost in the middle of a battlefield, but the hardest part is being the one Human caught between two armies comprised solely of Drakes and Gnolls. You kind of stand out, and when one side is out for blood and the other one doesn’t trust you, you tend to get shot at. A lot.

:(

“Come on, you’ve seen this a million times.” I whisper to myself as I point a finger at my leg. Focus, think pinpoint, directed. Concentrated. A narrow beam, just like— “[Flashlight].” Something twists in my head as the word comes out. It feels like incredible pressure in my brain, and then sudden relief as the [Light] spell alters and a new one takes its place. And there is light. Not from an orb, though. Slowly, I raise my finger and stare at it. The tip of my finger is glowing white-yellow, and it’s emitting a cone of light that looks like any flashlight beam. It’s a narrow band; more like a penlight than anything else. It’s perfect, and just what I need. “Holy shit.” That is so convenient. Why didn’t Ceria teach me this spell instead of the orb of light? It’s so useful—but of course it’s probably another spell mages learn. Or not. If you’ve got the ability to light up your surroundings, why bother with directed light?

Oo

“Shut up!” I hiss as loudly as I can at the faerie, looking around wildly. She flies back down and laughs in my face. “‘Tis you who should be quiet! Have you forgotten? Mortals cannot hear our words any more than they can see our true forms. You’re the one clomping around and making sound in the darkness.” That’s…true. True, but I just want to smack the smirk off the faerie’s face. I take several deep breaths. Even in the middle of a war these little nightmares act the same. If I were on the gallows, they’d be telling jokes and eating popcorn. They’d probably love the show. But they’re here, and oddly, their presence reassures me even as they piss me off. I steady myself, and readjust my plans. “Okay. Okay, you’re right. I’m sorry. Can you…take me to the Necromancer?” “We will take you to the place where the dead gather, as per our agreement, Human.”

Oo

Eyes. Too good. Darkvision. My eyes narrow. Zel is beginning to circle with Ilvriss and Periss is slowly advancing towards me, sword raised. Her eyes are on my belt, but I don’t reach for a potion. Instead, I slowly raise my hand. “Hey Lord Asshole. Take a good look at this.” Ilvriss spares one glance towards me and opens his mouth at the same time Periss does. But that’s all I need. I focus, and push all the magic I have into one spell.

:)

*Rule one of monsters. You didn’t kill them. You didn’t even hurt them. I don’t care if you dropped a bomb on them or cut off their heads. They’re alive. Run.

Good rule

But she runs on, between charging soldiers, ducking a scything blade, vaulting over a falling soldier. On and on, ceaseless, unable to stop. A messenger, a carrier of words and private things. A courier for both rich and poor. A traveler with no allegiance but her own. A Runner. Screaming, but in words spoken so quick only the Frost Faeries flying ahead of her can hear. “Ican’tstop!Goddamnitstoplaughingandhelpme!” The faeries hear her of course, and they keep pace with her easily. Perhaps they could stop her, but they’re laughing too hard to reply.

Poor Ryoka

One of the three Drakes who’d come to her inn for lunch looked at his companions. He shrugged, and gingerly picked up a still-steaming slice. He blew on it a few times, and then nibbled it. His eyes widened, and his tail twitched a bit. Erin watched his face and his tail anxiously. Drakes were like dogs, and Gnolls were even more like Dogs. They could lie pretty well, but their tails always gave them away.

Hmm

“Yeah, but—!” Erin gestured helplessly at the door as Ceria helped her gather all the silver coins. Ceria glanced out the door—the Drakes hadn’t yet made it to the city gates. They weren’t exactly fast on their feet, especially as they tried not to drop the pizza slices. “Want me to hit them with a spell? I’ve got a pretty good aim.” “No, no. I just wish I’d had a day to sell my food before it got taken away. I guess they’re going to earn a lot of money tonight.” Ceria patted Erin sympathetically on the shoulder. “If it helps, I think people will know where the food came from. Next time, you should only bring out the new stuff when it’s dinnertime. That way you’ll get at least one big crowd.”

rude

Erin looked at her friend blankly. “Like what?” “Oh, I don’t know…use them to buy something nice, perhaps?” Ceria rolled the gold coin between her fingers. Erin frowned. “Why would I do that? I mean, they’d find out and it’d be stealing, right?” Ceria coughed into one hand. “I know a few Human shopkeepers that—rot, never mind. You’re too nice.” Erin laughed. Ceria tossed the coin back on the table and folded her arms.

:)

“Um. I don’t know.” Halrac looked at Erin, and she hurried to explain. “They’re magic flowers, and when you drink the nectar, you get sort-of drunk. And I mean it might go well with alcohol—spice it up, you know? I’ve got this skill – [Wondrous Fare], and it was telling me that this would work.” Halrac had never heard of that skill, but Erin looked at him pleadingly, and it wasn’t as if he had anything better to do. Or drink.

Brave man.

She nodded to Halrac and he nodded back. The older man looked at Erin and bowed his head. “I’m sorry.” “Oh, no. I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have given you that drink without testing it on Pisces first. My Skill just told me to do it and—sorry! Um, uh, would you like anything else, Halrac? Anything? Anything but a certain faerie drink which I’m not sure I’m ever going to serve again?” He hesitated. The Gold-rank adventurer still looked shaken, and Erin saw him pass a hand over his face several times before he looked at her.

heh -- test on Pisces first ....

The Drake shook his head. “I know how good I am Erin, and after that game with him—I wouldn’t want to hold you back, really.” “Hey!” Erin seized Olesm and glared at the surprised Drake. “How good you are shouldn’t have anything to do with being allowed to play the game. Anyone can play chess, and you should play me as much as you want! That’s the only way you’re going to get better and—” She glared at Pawn who shrank back in his seat. “—And I don’t mind teaching new players either. I like chess. Anyone who likes chess is welcome to play me, anytime, anywhere! Well, not anywhere, but most of the time I’m up for a game!” Olesm blinked at Erin, but as her glare transitioned into a smile, he managed one too.

:)

But no one paid any attention. Erin told stories to the listening man, full of skepticism and bitterness, and to the Antinium, lost, afraid, and alone. And they listened. It was not an [Immortal Moment]. There was nothing immortal in the way Erin would backtrack, or make mistakes or get up and serve another round of drinks. Perhaps because she did not believe. But there was something there. Something which captured the heart and made Pawn listen, and Halrac stay. And it continued into the night, whispering to the three. Stories. Faith. Religion.

Yeah -- i'm not sure how I feel about that ... but then again there's wars over opinons (etc). already so what's one more?