Story Challenge 5: The Yule Tides Are Rising [Part 2]

Hello again, my surprisingly loyal* fanbase!

* - I assume if you're reading this then you actually care enough to follow this blog, which produces next to no content on a regular basis. If so, great! Thanks for existing! You da real MVP.

So I'm back! I'm sure the crickets are sorely disappointed that they're out of the job. In a long-overdue move, I've decided to finish the intrepid tale of Captain Potato. I'm not sure if it will be any good, but hey, closure is closure right?

There's one particular person who's been waiting on this for a long time. They know who they are, but I want them to also know that this is, in part, my gift to them.

As a reminder, the subjects of this story challenge are:
- All the possible uses of a potato
- "Choo choo mother fucker"
- A fancy Christmas party gone horribly, messily wrong
- Justice
- Rampant and unabated climate change
- BONUS: a guest appearance by Nathan Fillion

Vas-y!

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Captain Potato.

Dave said the name again and again in his mind, but despite his best efforts he was utterly unable to turn the sound of it into something that made even a hint of sense to him.

What the hell did they spike the punch with? There's a dude in a potato costume getting ready to square up with heavily-armed terrorists...

To their credit, the terrorists seemed just as confused as poor Dave was. Aside from the distant sound of sobbing (which Dave assumed was Brenda, since she could barely keep it together on the best of days... this was not the best of days...) the whole floor was covered in a thick veil of shocked silence. Even the obnoxious Christmas music playing over the PA had fallen quiet, unable to deal with the sheer ridiculousness of the office workers' current predicament.

The good Captain himself seemed to be too caught up in his posing to notice, though after nearly a full minute of this he began to take stock.

"Ahem. Yes, Captain Potato is here to save the day! You terrorists are the root of all evil, and you will be squashed in the name of tuberous justice!"

No reaction. Not a soul in the place -- save perhaps CP himself -- had the wherewithal to plan their next steps. Id and ego alike were still busy processing.

After what seemed like an eternity, one of the assailants let out a frustrated groan from behind his Grinch-like (if the Grinch were made in China by someone who had no idea what the Grinch actually looked like) mask. "Can we just kill this dude please?"

The assertion seemed to wake the whole gathering from their collective trance. Dumbfounded stares turned to enlightened blinking to grimaces of rage wholly befitting the well-armed cadre of eco-warriors gathered hence. Grips universally tightened around all manner of dastardly weapons in the hands of their equally-dastardly wielders, prompting a smirk to appear on the face of our intrepid hero.

"The potato," he began, "is a truly versatile vegetable."

From behind the captain, one of the terrorists (this one with a mask that vaguely resembled a reindeer crossed with a balaclava made from an old sock) charged toward him with machete raised high and voice eliciting an angry howl. Captain Potato was unphased, and as the blade began to come toward his fleshy neck, he simply pulled a cord on the side of his cannon. The action caused a gout of white steam to shoot out behind him, and as it enveloped the attacker his battlecry turned into a scream of pain as he clawed at his blistering eyes.

"They can be boiled..."

The next brave contender, this one a woman in a modest hood and bandana, positioned herself to the left of the captain and brought a pistol to bear. Without missing a beat, he stepped back and turned, allowing the bullet to pass harmlessly in front of him while bringing his own shooter in line with his foe. Two quick pulls on the trigger and another shower of tater bits showered onto the collapsing terrorist.

"You can mash them..."

All at once, the room exploded into action now. Three downed terrorists was probably two too many to ignore, and thus shit had just gotten serious. Every bad guy (and girl) in the room had now turned their attention to Captain Potato and his unconventional tool of mash destruction. Knives, pipes, rifles, and possibly even a grenade (which, Dave realised, might explain the pin drop he heard before, but he was REALLY hoping that that was metaphorical) were now levelled squarely in his direction, yet he seemed completely unphased.

"You can even stick them in a stew!"

The third or so of the remaining terrorists smart enough to bring projectile weapons quickly set about finding both cover and clear angles of fire, ducking behind cubicles and human shields in the hopes of avoiding the spud cannon's deadly(?) barrage. The others simply charged, hoping that brute force and intimidation through numbers would be enough to fell their crafty foe before he could foil their evil plans of taking down TerraCorps. Dave, for his part and from his admittedly unfavourable vantage point, imagined that the latter group were kind of like Team Rocket grunts throwing out Zubats and Rattatas in the hopes that the one guy with a Haunter might actually be able to put up a fight. And much like those grunts, what followed was a massacre.

True to his earlier assertion, as the captain ducked behind a cubicle of his own he launched an array of taters at the oncoming horde. One or two struck the lead runners in the chest, stopping them in their tracks and slowing those behind them. The others flew past the group and collided heavily with the glass wall of the office aquarium. It didn't take much for the assault to cause the glass to groan and then shatter, unleashing hundreds of gallons of water that surged over the immobile terrorists and swept them away in a heap. The squishy mass was quickly joined by a host of miscellanea that disgruntled office workers had used to decorate their desks before the wave washed the desks away as well. By the time it hit the outside windows, the once-clean water had turned a fetid mix of brown and red, having collected a decidedly non-trivial number of desk plants and their associated soil as well as no small amount of blood from the now-wounded terrorists. After all, if you put enough sharp objects in close proximity with a group of people too disoriented to control them, there are bound to be a few cuts and scrapes. The situation only got worse as the sheer pressure of the crashing pile caused the exterior glass to shatter, sending the screaming terrorists to their untimely end in the streets below. Amazingly, not a single hostage was caught in the fleshy tsunami -- a feat not lost on the remaining attackers that were now huddled even closer to their respectively cover.

Dave was in shock. Who IS this guy?

At this point there were at least five of the terrorists left in commission, though from his place on the floor Dave realised it really could be any number. He wasn't in much of a position to confirm, and being an accountant in the midst of the weirdest gun fight in the history of weird gun fights, he figured that it was probably better to keep it that way. What was clear, however, was that the forces of good and evil were currently in a standoff, and neither group was willing to risk making the first move.

Then, to Dave's complete and utter surprise, things got weirder.

"Get hammered, evildoer!"

Seemingly out of nowhere, a man in a blue shirt with a hammer emblazoned on the chest barrelerled heavily into one of the terrorists hiding behind a terrified intern. The extremist -- this one wearing a surprisingly detailed JFK mask -- went flying through the nearby cubicle with a resounding crunch, unable to brace themselves for the surprise attack. Immediately, all eyes shot to the new challenger, including Dave's.

Is that... It that Nathan Fillion?

The man, who may or may not most maybe-ly not (not?) have been Nathan Fillion, stepped forward with a flex and a dazzling smile. "Never fear, good citizens! Captain Hammer has arrived to save the day!"

Captain Potato, not one to waste an opportunity when it presented itself, hastily sprang into action, rushing toward the now-distracted terrorists with a renewed gusto. Bullets began flying everywhere, with the newcomer diving behind cover while one after another the remaining foes were dropped by the first captain's deadly-accurate spuds.

In a flash, everything was quiet again. Dave's heart was racing as if he'd just run a marathon. Watching this crazy, ta-terrific display was a better workout than all of the last year's half-hearted gym sessions combined. Needing a change in orientation to catch his breath, Dave slowly rose from the floor and stretched his shaky arms. As he did so, the captains approached reconvened nearby,

"Good work, spudsy! Looks like I came just in the nick of time and, of course, saved the day again."

"Saved the day? You took out like one guy."

"Yeah, but it was THE guy. You clearly would have been lost without meee--yello there, beautiful."

Captain Hammer caught himself mid-sentence as Linda rose from the floor and began to brush bits of potato off of her skirt (the back of which had the not-so-good captain rather captivated). At hearing his voice, she turned around with a start. She glanced behind her nervously, before settling back on Hammer with a shocked gaze that seemed to say: "Who, me?"

"You are in luck. With these nasty bungers taken care of I've just freed up my evening. Care to join me for a burger?" He leaned closer and brought the back of his hand to his mouth, as if to share some secret. "The hammer is my penis, by the way."

Before Linda's red cheeks and growing scowl could transition into a rejection, Captain Potato sighed and grabbed his compatriot's arm. "As much as I hate to come between a man and his plate of fries, leave the poor girl alone, Hammer. Besides, we've got stuff to do. Come on."

And thus the pair hobbled out, with Hammer mouthing "call me" to Linda and miming his hand into a phone before disappearing into the stairwell. Just as quickly as it had begun, the adventure had ended, and pretty much everyone was left shivering and confused in a sea of utter chaos. There was little activity, with all of the TerraCorps staff still trying to wrap their heads around what had transpired. Dave and Linda were the only two that even bothered standing up.

Shaking his head, he turned to the secretary. "So where does Gerald keep his stash? I need a damn drink."

"Amen," she agreed. She looked over to her boss, now fully unconscious and contentedly sucking his thumb on the floor ahead, then motioned with her head toward his office. "Come on. The sooner we kill these memories, the better."

They Might Be Heroes: Series 6

Hello internet! As always, it's been awhile since my last update to this blog, but it's come to my attention that some people still read it occasionally, so I figured I'd give them some new material. This story, like so many of my stories, is a D&D backstory, though unlike the others this one was designed to be competitive. You might remember RPGCrossing from my last post. Every year, this forum hosts a competition called Outplay in which users are challenged with creating an interesting and engaging character and proving their skill as a player through various challenges. I only made it to the second round, unfortunately, but I still think that the character is worth sharing. So say hello to Orin Sepultriat, the 76-year-old deaf librarian.

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Kara coughed as she entered her grandfather's study in the back of Bauerburg's library. The thick layer of dust hanging in the air was almost too much to bear, so full was the room of ancient texts and artifacts. With a little love and care it would have been a truly magical place, but in its current state she was convinced that it was simply a hazard to the health of any who entered. She silently assured herself that the visit would be a short one, and that she would likely survive.

She hoped.

With a slight frown and a frustrated sigh, she continued onward. As she expected, Orin sat at his trademark desk, poring over what seemed like a hundred different books all at once. He jumped between them seemingly at random, occasionally muttering incoherent phrases under his breath. The uninitiated would call him mad, but Kara knew much better than that. He had lived far more years than most were fortunate enough to see, but he remained in complete control of his faculties. Those faculties were, for lack of a better word, absolutely brilliant.

Another sigh. "If only the world could see you as I do, grandfather." She stepped forward and tapped him on the shoulder, putting on her best and least-worried smile. She waited for him to turn fully around before greeting him. "Hello grandpa!"

"THERE'S NO NEED TO YELL!" Kara winced as the old man screamed at the top of his lungs. As intelligent as he was, he had been born completely deaf, and so volume was a concept he had never quite gotten the hang of. You got used to it after a while, but it could still be quite jarring as he adjusted himself to each situation. Luckily, he could understand your speech so long as he could see your lips move, and often better than you understood it yourself. "THIS IS A LIBRARY!"

"Of course, grandpa. My apologies. I'll try to be quieter."

Orin blinked a few times, forcing his eyes to readapt to the darkness. Suddenly, they lit up and a wide grin found its way onto his face. "Kara! My beautiful granddaughter, how are you?" With some great effort he rose from his chair and wrapped her in a warm embrace. "What fortune has caused you to visit this old man?"

She allowed him a moment to sit back down and pulled an extra chair from behind a stack of books. "I'm worried about you, grandpa. You've been locked in this study for weeks now! Mother thought you died in here. Honestly, what have you been up to?"

"OH!" The exclamation as accompanied by a wild gesture, his excitement clear. He quickly reached behind him and pulled a hefty tome from the center of the cluttered desk. Unlike most of the others scattered about, this had barely any dust on it at all. It also only had a single page of writing that Kara couldn't even begin to interpret. "It's actually rather brilliant! You see, I've discovered an alternative method of spontaneous spellcasting using a combination of the Archivist's Lemma and the Samson variant of the Planar Conjecture from Bundrella's Second Thesis! I'll spare you the details, of course, but what I've managed to accomplish is to directly manifest knowledge as an actionable force! It consumes the written version of the spell, which has proven to be slightly problematic, but I'm still in the early stages of my research, so I'm confident that at some point I'll be able to make the process more efficient... Oh yes! Your question. I've been studying, mostly. You see my standard array of spells can circumvent the need for this new method, so I needed a control group of some kind, and have delved into the arcane as a mechanism of attaining an unsullied sample. I can't quite cast get this one to trigger yet, but it's a wonderful tool. I picked up a scroll to test the effects, and as a result I can now see magical auras eternally! Concentrate a little bit and this whole room lights up in a sea of colour. It's spectacular. Someday I hope I can share it with you. But I digress. The process takes time, which is why I've been here researching."

He took in a deep breath, clearly intending to continue, but the look of confusion on Kara's face caused the words to catch in his throat, which he promptly cleared. "I'm quite alright, I can assure you, but I do appreciate your visit."

The scholar's cheeks burned red at her warm smile, causing the slightest chuckle to emerge from her throat. She looked over his shoulder to the desk behind him and noticed that there were two other books identical to the one he held. "What are those?"

He glanced back. "Oh, well since this process consumes the spell I cast it's more efficient to have a duplicate at the ready." He waited for a moment, but the look of expectation on her face didn't fade. She clearly thought he intended to elaborate. He did not. "It's a magic thing, trust me."

"So why are there two?"

"Hmm?" He looked back again, his brow crinkled in confusion. As soon as he did so, he let out a knowing laugh. "Oh, the other is my personal spellbook."

"I thought you didn't need a spellbook."

"Oh, I don't." He pulled the book from the desk. It had the words Orin's Spells hastily scribbled on the cover. "It's more of an accounting thing. It's literally just a book of my spells." Sure enough, the pages of the book were filled with endless lists of spells and brief descriptions, all written in common. Her look of incredulity was met with a simple shrug. "I'm getting old," he offered. "Couldn't hurt to have a backup."

She laughed as she handed it back. "But look around you! There are so many books here! Why keep another? And look at these…" She picked one at random from the top of a pile. The cover read: Cat Characteristics: Wild Cat Supplemental.

She was silent then, her mouth hanging open and prepared to voice words that never came. After a moment she allowed it to close and opened the book instead. As she did so, one of the pages tore slightly.

Orin immediately sprang into action. "Oh no!" It was a whisper, but his panic was clear on his face as he rushed forward and gingerly lifted the book. He silently waved his fingers above the book, and the page slowly but surely stitched itself back together. The old mage let out a sigh as he placed the book back on one of the room's many shelves. "Please be careful, my dear. These are precious."

Kara raised an eyebrow. "Grandpa, that's a picture book for children. They printed thousands of copies and sell them for a handful of gold each."

He placed a hand gently on her shoulder. "All knowledge is precious, my child. It is a thing to be protected. One day you will understand."

For those interested, his character sheet can be found here.

Story Challenge 2: And then there were badgers

This story challenge was originally posted in two parts to Facebook on June 21st, 2013. The whole thing is about 25 pages long, which is not bad for a few hours' work if I do say so myself. As always, the suggestions were ridiculous and amazing. The five concepts I went with were:

- Gamma radiation
- The day the internet died
- Amnesia
- Ninja badgers
- Rainbows being the secret weapons of Leprechauns

This story contains some strong language, so reader discretion is advised.

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Aaron awoke slowly. Through the haze clouding his vision he was barely able to the shape of his dresser towering above him. He gently blinked and winced in a vain attempt to quell the great force struggling to escape his skull. Even with the world safely out of sight he could feel it spinning uncontrollably around him. It was nauseating.

After a few minutes of trying to collect his thoughts, he slowly opened his eyes and rolled onto his stomach. Willpower alone forced him to his feet, and only his arm shakily clutching the edge of his dresser kept him there. As his room came into focus this stinging scent of blood assaulted his nostrils. From the glaring red splash of the stuff beside his shivering hand, he could only assume it was his. frantically searching his memories for the cause yielded only shadows.

A sinking feeling began to grow in his gut. The way his clothes stuck to his back told him that he had been lying in a pool of his own insides for some time. What happened? How much blood had he lost?

One thing was for certain, something had to be done. He peered out the open door of his bedroom and spotted a phone sitting on the kitchen island in his spacious apartment. If he could get to it then he could call an ambulance...

With unsteady steps he carefully made his way across the room, each step inviting new agony into his weary body. He fought to keep the red encroaching on his vision at bay as he stoically put one foot in front of the other. It wasn't much farther...

Suddenly, a distinct click echoed through the apartment and the door on the far side of the room began to swing open. His legs shook, anticipating salvation and the sweet release of rest.

He was about to call out, when a nightmare emerged from the portal. Before him stood a tangled mass of fur, both black as midnight and as white as fresh snow. A monstrous snout bared a maw of sharp fangs, accentuated by a shining pair of dark, beady eyes.

Aaron's mouth opened in a silent scream, unable to form sound past the growing lump of fear in his throat. He stumbled backward, his vision fully consumed by the red. Then, everything went black.

...

Consciousness crept slowly back into Aaron's mind. His head still ached, but he could feel the cold relief of an ice pack on his forehead and the soft comfort of his couch beneath him. A groan escaped his throat as he shifted his weight, his tired limbs and throbbing head taking every opportunity to complain at the movement.

A low, grating voice came from behind him, accompanied by a sudden hustle of movement from several figures: "Yo, he's awake."

He felt the couch shake as someone lowered themselves onto it, right next to him. As soon as the couch settled, another voice, this one slightly smoother voice spoke. "Hey man, are you okay? What the hell happened to you?"

As soon as he could muster the energy, Aaron slowly opened his eyes. As the bleary haze cleared and his eyes adjusted to the light, he was hit by a sudden shock of clarity, as if smeone had poured a bucket of icewater directly on his head. Before him, a look of worry sprawled across its face, was a badger. A nagging voice in the back of his mind quietly reminded him of the nightmare creature he saw right before he passed out again.

There was a moment of stunned silence before he could finally muster the courage to speak. "This is what death feels like, isn't it. I am in hell."

The look of worry on the badger's face turned to one of disdain. Stifled laughter could be heard in the background. "Funny," came the dry reply. The badger, seeing the genuine fear locked in Aaron's wide eyes, let the look of worry begin to return. "Oh damn, you're serious."

Aaron swallowed back the lump in his throat. "W-what are you?"

The stifled laughter suddenly burst forth from two other figures behind the badger on the couch, unable to be contained any longer. Aaron managed to tear his gaze away from the creature before him only to find that they, too, were badgers. All three had the same dark fur with white stripes along their faces, and wore dark, practical clothing. Clawed hands wrapped around their guts as they tried in vain to restrain their amusement.

The nearest of the trio glared back at his companions, now wiping tears from their beady eyes. One of the pair managed to hold his laughter back just long enough to take a deep breath and somewhat compose himself. He straigtened and cleared his throat with a wide smile. "Sorry bro, it's just that we've been a lot over the past little while, and the look on G's face just now was abslutely priceless."

The other badger let out a satisfied sigh and a final chuckle as he rested his hands on his knees. "Nothing personal, dude. we weren't laughing at you." He straightened and put his hands on his hips as he smirked. "Well, maybe a little."

The first badger let out a disgruntled sigh and turned back to the human. "So you really don't remember us?" After seeing Aaron shake his head, he continued: "Ok, well as a crash course, we..." As he trailed off, he stood and motioned to his companions with a flourish. "... are the Teenage Mutant Ninja Badgers."

The look of shock remained firmly in place on Aaron's face. Seeing this, the leftmost badger leaned over and whispered, "you should probably blink soon."

As if on queue, the burning senstation in his eyes forced his lids closed. he blinked a few more times to reassure himself that this was really happening.

"I," continued the badger, "am the illustrious leader of our little group, Gaben." He motioned over his right shoulder. "This here is Schafer." When the badger there responded with a smile and a wave, he motioned over his left. "That there is Kojima."

Kojima flourished and bowed his acknowledgement. "Ever so pleased to make your acquaintaince, good sir!"

Gaben rolled his eyes and lowered his hands, nodding in aaron's direction. "Our final companion is the honey badger."

Aaron slowly craned his neck as he shift his weight to look behind him. Slowly but surely, a hulking behemoth of a badger crept into his vision. He was at least a foot taller than the others, and significantly wider, but he had a quiet grace about him which seemed to be amplified by the calm expression with which he regarded the wounded man below him. Unlike his partners, the honey badger had a cmpletely black face and neck, with lighter fur adorning the back of his head and going down his back. Aaron's awkward smile was met with a simple nod.

He carefully reset himself on the couch and took in the three badgers before him with a look of confusion. "So, why are you three named after game designers, while your friend behind me is just named 'the honey badger'?"

Gaben shrugged. "Well we basically became what we are today when we were hit by a series of controlled blasts of gamma radiation. After learning a bit about your culture we decided to pick our own names based on own favourite form of art: games. Now, honey badger here doesn't speak much, if ever, so he didn't provide a name. Rather than calling him something he might not like, we figured we'd just refer to him as what he is. He doesn't seem to mind."

Schafer leaned in over his shoulder and added in a soft voice, "Honey Badger don't give a fuck." Kojima's chuckle framed Gaben's sigh with an even more acute frustration.

"Anyway," he continued, "considering you were lying with your head cracked open and can't seem to remember us, we're guessing you don't know what happened to you, but we can hazard a guess at who did it."

Kojima took a step forward, putting one clawed foot on the edge of the couch and leaning on it intently. He looked Aaron straight in the eye and put on his best irish accent. "Do ye believe in magic?"

"I'm talking with a group of anthropomorphic badgers," Aaron said dryly. "I think at this point I'll believe anything."

Kojima gave a sharp laugh and slapped his leg as he straightened. "Great! 'cause this one's a bit of a stretch." He took his foot down and sat heavily on the arm of the couch. "We basically put food on the table by keeping the city safe. The only ones making this job more difficult than it has to be are a group calling themselves the ILA: the Irish Lepublichaun Army."

Aaron's mouth dropped to his chest. "Lepublichaun? You're making that up."

Kojima and Schafer both smirked at that. Gaben's face remained calm. "I wish I was, my friend. They're kind of like the Irish Republican Army, only more..." His eyes wandered as he thought of the proper term. "... Lucky."

This time Schafer stepped forward and held his hand out flat just below his waist. "Little bastards in green suits and round little hats. They're not particularly smart, or athletic, but they're clever, and there's a whole bunch of them."

"Anyway," Kojima continued, "they started popping up around the same time that we did. Or vice versa. Whatever. The point is, they're kind of like the Joker to our Batman. They try to start trouble, and we stop them."

Schafer, realising he still had his hand outstretched, let it fall awkwardly to his side. After thinking for a moment, he looked back to Aaron. "So, any questions?"

Aaron took a moment to let it all sink in. It was incredible to think that not too long ago this would have all seemed perfectly normal to him, or at least familiar. As it stood he was being subjected to a lot of information in a very short span of time, and his foggy mind was unable to cope. He asked the first thing that popped into his head: "Um... Where do you guys live? Are you from the sewers or something?"

Kojima and Schafer both guffawed at the notion. Even Gaben let a smile sneak onto his face as he, too, stepped forward. "What are we, turtles? No, my friend, we've been living here with you for the past year. We're kind of celebrities around here, so there's no real reason for us to hide. We do good work, and the people respond to that sort of thing. The city even pays us a pretty decent wage to keep up the good work, though we do have to pay for stuff that we break sometimes."

"But enough of that for now," Kojima cut in. "Let's find out what happened to you."

...

Aaron tentatively reached for the outstretched hand of the badger before him, hesitating just long enough for a crease to appear on his brow before grasping it. It was odd feeling the warm fur between his fingers as Gaben helped him stand up, and stranger still when he felt the creature's arm protectively on his shoulders to keep him from falling over as the blood rushed out of his head. He managed a weak smile as the pair headed toward the bedroom where he had collapsed, followed closely by the other three badgers.

The gruesome scene caused nausea to rush into his stomach, threatening to overwhelm him. Dark, crimson blood lay splattered all along the wooden floor, smeared with long streaks and hand prints from when he had managed to get himself up earlier. Much of it was dried, but some pools still remained on the uneven surface, worn ever so slightly from years of traffic. The acrid, coppery scent in the air stung his eyes.

He felt a soft squeeze on his shoulder. It was a small gesture, but a reassuring one, and helped greatly in his attempt to stop his body from its uncontrollable shivering.

"Do you need a minute? We could do our analysis without you."

"No, I'm alright," Aarn replied with a nod. "I want to hear this."

Gaben gave a pained smile before turning to the two smaller badgers and giving a curt nod. The silently moved into the room and began searching for clues as to what might have happened.

"There are no signs of a struggle." Kojima motioned to the various personal effects scattered about the room. "Nothing's knocked over, and aside from the corner of the dresser I don't think anything's broken."

Schafer nodded and tapped on the window with his knuckles. "Agreed. Plus, check this out." He pointed to at the window just above his head.

Aaron's eyes followed his finger to a small, perfectly round hole in the glass. The edges of the hole appeared to be slightly melted, but otherwise the rest of the glass was completely unaffected.

He and Gaben exhanged a quick glance before turning back to the window. "What could have done that?"

Gaben shrugged. "I'm not sure. A bullet would have broken the glass around the hole. A laser would have passed right through the glass, or if was strong enough to melt it it would have started a fire in here somewhere. Besides, if either of those hit you'd have bigger problems than a bit of a cracked skull, and there would be some evidence of it if you slipped while you were dodging. This had to have happened fast, and with a great deal of precision, but I can't think of anything that would have that effect on the window."

"Agreed," Kojima chimed in. "I think the Leprechauns have a new trick up their sleeve."

Scahfer turned to face the others. "So what happened to that little bit of glass? When we were cleaning Aaron's head we didn't find any shards, and there's none lying around. Did it just evaporate?"

"Maybe," said Gaben. "It couldn't have melted, because we'd see evidence of that around the hole, but if it was heated rapidly enough it could have sublimated and then cooled elsewhere. But the amount of heat required..."

Schafer's face twisted in confusion. "But then wouldn't we run into the fire thing again? How could something be so hot that it causes glass to just disappear into thin air, but not start a fire or burn someone that it comes in contact with?"

A silence fell over the room, human and badger alike lost in contemplation. After what seemed like an eternity, Aaron shook his head and spoke. "So what do we do now?"

"I guess," Kojima replied, "we'll have to go straight to the source. Who's up for a little hunting?"

A childish grin spread across Schafer's face. "For that pun alone, I am in."

...

"So what are we looking at here?"

The group sat quietly on a roof overlooking a dirty street, passing snacks between them as they waited. They had set up their folding chairs an hour earlier, but Aaron had been afraid to ask exactly what they were doing.

"Basically," Gaben replied, "we're waiting for something interesting to happen."

"Eventually, a little dude is going to show up at one of these dives." Kojima made a sweeping motion with his bag of chips before he continued. "Once we find one of the buggers we'll figure out what our next steps are, but despite today's technology we can't just run off without a place to start."

Aaron's shoulders sagged in disappointment. "Oh..." He wasn't really sure what he expected, but he had been hoping that they would somehow be able to locate the ILA without any trouble.

"Chin up, fleshbag." Schafer patted him on the shoulder. "We'll find one soon enough. Being the embodiment of a fairy tale creature adds a certain degree of predictability to one's actions."

Kojima let out a burst of laughter. "Fleshbag? Tell me, master badger, how are you not a bag of flesh?"

Schafer shrugged and smiled. "You can see less of mine."

"Hush, children." Gaben chastised them without even look away from the road and casually fished for another handful of chips. The honey badger stood stoically behind the group, arms crossed and expression unchanging. The other two chuckled and went back to their own snacks, leaving Aaron sitting akwardly in his chair, unsure of how to assess the situation.

He was quite sure that the badgers were all insane.

Suddenly, Gaben leaned forward in his chair and put his pair of binoculars up to his eyes. "Look alive, boys. We've got movement."

A hush fell over the group as their eyes darted to where Gaben's binoculars were pointed. A man in a trenchcoat was walking out of one of the seedy bars and heading toward the alley leading around the back, while several small figures sporting muted green jackets and dark pants emerged into the dim light.

"Is that them?" Aaron squinted and leaned as far forward in his chair as he could, trying to get a better look at the gathering. Gaben responded with a single nod, not removing the binoculars from his eyes.

As soon as the man's back was turned to the group, Gaben flashed a quick thumbs up to the Honey Badger, who silently jumped into action and over the side of the building.

Aaron could only vaguely make out the shapes below them, but he could tell that they were discussing something important. The man reached into his coat and produced a small package, which after some discussion was passed to the small figures. Their leader reached into his coat and pulled something of his own out, showing it to the man, who seemed to freeze in panic.

Suddenly, a rainbow appeared between the two groups, and... Nothing. Aaron tilted his head in confusion as the man seemed to relax visibly. He wasn't sure what to make of the scene before him. The leprechauns all seemed calm despite nothing happening, and the man who had been hit by the beam was breathing heavily in relief. None of it made any sense...

Then the lead leprechaun reached up and pulled what Aaron thought was a pair of glasses from his cap. "What's happening?"

"I'm not sure," Gaben said quietly. "He just pulled his glasses off and--"

Gaben's thought was cut short as another rainbow appeared between the two groups, this time stopping at the glasses that the leprechaun held in front of his gun. The lens of the spectacles began to glow with a brilliant white light, and then, in an instant, was extinguished as the man was thrown violently against the wall of the bar behind him, collapsing in a heap. Aaron held his breath as the leprechaun calmly stood over the downed man and held the glasses between them once again. There was another bright flash of white light, and the man's head exploded in a read mist, slammed against the pavement by some unknown force.

Despite the horror of it, Aaron could not look away. None of the badgers made any movement, any sound. They just sat silently watching the scene unfold.

Then, the Honey Badger was there, abruptly appearing in the midst of the leprechauns. There was a subtle flurry of movement, and then a tremendous calm. One by one, each of the leprechauns lazily collapsed to the pavement, red pools growing beneath them. The Honey Badger waited until their post-mortem twitching to stop, and then disappeared again in the blink of an eye.

Had he looked away for an instant, Aaron would have missed it. He couldn't breathe, unable to comprehend any of what he had just witnessed.

Gaben angrily clipped his binoculars back onto his belt. "Damn! I was hoping he'd keep one alive for questioning."

"I've certainly got a lot of questions," Kojima chimed in. Schafer merely nodded his agreement.

"Well, no use crying over spilled blood. Let's take a closer look."

...

"You know, this is actually pretty close to what I expected."

Aaron bent over the small, still body of the leprechaun before him, nudging it with his foot slightly just to make sure it was really dead. He wanted to feel bad at the loss of life, but having witnessed their brutality both first and second hand today, his sympathy was worn a bit thin.

"These aren't even their regular clothes." Kojima walked over to where Aaron was standing and also gave the body a quick kick. "This is their civilian getup."

"Yeah bro," added Schafer. "These guys are living, breathing stereotypes. You should hear them talk. If it weren't so tragic it would be highly amusing."

The Honey Badger emerged from the shadows farther into the alley and moved to join the group. Gaben met him with a discerning frown. "It would have been nice to have a hostage."

By the Honey Badger's steely gaze, it was clear there was no response forthcoming, so he sighed and bent to retrieve the lead leprechaun's gun.

"So what is that thing?"

"I'm not sure. It looks like some kind of a sci-fi ray gun." Gaben aimed the gun at the wall of the alley and held down the trigger. A soft, rainbow-coloured beam emerged from the tipped of the gun and harmlessly lit up the bricks. "How do we make it do the smashing thing?"

His contemplation was interrupted when the Honey Badger held the now-empty frames of the leprechauns glasses in front of him. He retrieved them with a nod of gratitude and turned them over in his hands. "Hey Aaron, come take a look at these."

Aaron lightly stepped over the bodies to stand next to the badger and looked closely at the glasses. There was still a bit of lens in the elongated parts of the frames, the edges melted from what appeared to be an intense heat. "That looks a lot like my window."

Gaben nodded his agreement. "Right, so what does that mean?"

"Well maybe glass is the key. When glass is hit by the rainbow beam, the beam stops and converts the pane into pure kinetic and light energy, which then explodes outwards and causes this to happen." He waved idly at the mangled body of the mysterious man lying to his right.

Schafer snorted and walked over to join them. "Bro, do you even physics? That doesn't make any sense."

"You're a talking ninja badger," Aaron said flatly. "You don't make any sense, but here you stand, in all your sarcastic glory."

Kojima chuckled. "You're both right. It's a ridiculous concept, but none orf this is exactly normal, and honestly I can't think of a better explanation than the one our friend aaron here provided."

Schafer smiled and bowed with a flourish to concede the point before looking expectantly at Gaben. "Well boss, now what?"

"Well, they exhanged something before..." He waved his hand in a circle and worked his mouth, looking for the proper words. Eventually he looked expectantly at his companions.

Kojima was the first to offer a suggestion. "Red October?"

"Green eggs and slam," Schafer quickly countered.

Gaben's raised eyebrow was met by a shrug from the pair. He shook his head in disapproval before he continued. "... the excitement happened."

"I liked mine better," muttered Schafer.

While they bickered, Aaron calmly rolled over the dead leprechaun boss and searched through his coat, finding a large gold coin and a nondescript brown package sealed with twine. He held it out to Gaben. "Got it."

"Right, thanks." He peered nonchalantly at the body. "Let's see what you're willing to kill over."

"Technically," Schafer chimed in, "they'll kill for a lot of things. I mean, we're kinda paid to stop them from doing that most of the time."

"Damnit dude, you know what he means. Shut up and let him do his thing."

Aaron held the coin into the light and appraised it. "So what do you think this thing is worth?"

Gaben laughed to himself as he unwrapped the package. "Honestly, not as much as you'd think. There's a fair bit of gold there, and as far as I know it's relatively pure, but it's only worth it's weight. You'd be hard-pressed to find someone willing to buy it as a specialty item."

"Usually we wait until we have a dozen or so before we try to pawn them" Kojima added. "We get better value in bulk."

Aaron frowned and placed the coin in his pocket "Well, there's one."

Gaben held out a small wooden box with copper hinges to the group. It was stained, but was otherwise unremarkable. He slowly lifted the lid to reveal a black USB key.

"That's not quite what I was expecting."

"Nope."

"Let's get this thing back to base. We'll plug it into the tech box and see what's on it."

The three badgers nodded in agreement, which Aaron shook his head in dismay. "Tech box? You said you've been around for at least a year and you don't know what the proper name for a computer is?"

"Funny," quipped Schafer.

"The tech box," explained Gaben, "is a special laptop we set up that can't connect to anything else. We use it for testing and the like."

Kojima patted him on the back. "Have you ever seen a movie where good things came of plugging in a mysterious harddrive to your main network?"

Aaron bobbed his head as he conceded the point. "Guess not."

"Right, let's go then."

...

The Honey Badger sat quietly in a corner while the others gathered around a small black laptop. The box with the USB key sat neatly beside them as the computer booted up.

"What do we think is going to happen when we plug this thing in?" Aaron idly poked the box as he waited.

"Probably nothing," Kojima said nonchalantly. "I used to get super excited about this sort of thing, but I was usually disappointed."

"We've been given unfair expectations by the movies, my friend." Schafer leaned disdainfully on his elbow as he waited. "We have a more interesting life than most, but most of the time it's still pretty boring."

"I find that hard to believe. You're a talking badger." Schafer responded with a lazy shrug.

A familiar chime filled the room as the computer finished logging in. "Lovely!" Gaben held out his hand. "Scalpel."

Kojima opened the box and carefully lifted out the drive with two claws and robotically dropped it into Gaben's hand. "Scalpel."

With a smile, Gaben plugged the key into the side of the computer and leaned back, waiting for a reaction. For a few seconds, nothing happened. The groups slowly leaned forward expectantly, only to jump back when the screen abruptly flashed black.

A robotic voice came from the laptop's speakers. "You are rather stupid, aren't you? This machine is incapable of establishing a connection to the internet."

The eyes of all four widened slightly, but they were able to maintain their composure. Gaben calmly addressed the screen. "Technology's hard, bro." He waved his hands in front of him. "Can't you just, like, go?"

If the voice could convey emotion, Aaron expected it would be dripping with malice. "I am the most advanced AI capable of existing on this wretched planet, yet not even I can overcome the inadequacies of this equipment. Put the device in a network-capable computer and I'll proceed with my directive to destroy the internet in its current state."

"Right, so that was their plan." Gaben smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Intelligence. You've been most useful."

Kojima stood and stretched his arms out behind him. "Let's smash the fucker," he suggested.

"That would be inadvisable." The voice remained unchanged, but Aaron imagined a hint of panic framing the AI's frantic calculations.

Schafer stood as well. "Agreed, let's kill it with fire."

Suddenly a horrible array of noises burst forth from the speakers of the laptop, the AI using whatever it had at its disposal to keep the badgers at bay. Gaben, clearly not enjoying the spectacle, rose slowly, a venomous glare sitting stoic on his face. He carefully picked up the laptop and walked over the the apartment's large fireplace. Before putting it down, he bent the screen all the way back. A sharp crack rang through the apartment as he inverted the computer, placing the now-useless monitor flat against the bottom and laying it carefully in hte ashes at the back of the hearth. He calmly walked to the middle of the room and pulled the leprechaun's rainbow gun from his belt.

"That's more than enough from you, thank you very much." He aimed the gun at the fireplace, he motioned to Aaron. "Aaron, do me a favour and put up the screen. This will be a bit explodey."

"My pleasure." As soon as the screen was firmly secured, Aaron stepped well out of the way and put his fingers in his ears.

Seeing that he was clear, Gaben's finger closed on the trigger. A colourful beam of light shot out of the tip and collided with the screen in a bright flash of white light. A moment later, an explosion rang out as the laptop slammed against the stone and rattled violently around the hearth. He continued this until ash hung thick in the air and the machine was nothing more than a mangled heap of raw materials. Any pieces of the screen that were once visible had been used as ammunition in the laptop's destruction, and the smell of melted plastic assaulted the group's nostrils.

"No kill like overkill, right Gabe?" Schafer's childish grin belied the violence they had all just witnessed. "Can we burn it now?"

Gaben lowered his arm and matched his grin. "Oh, please do."

The badger skipped over to the fireplace and flipped a switch, causing a flame to ignite in the hearth, which Kojima gathered pieces of wood to add from a cupboard nearby.

Aaron sat in front of the fireplace and crossed his legs, leaning back in relaxation. "You know," he said, "this was a good first day."

Story Challenge 1: A man and his Fresca

After every 10 entries from my book, I like to take a bit more of a personal challenge. I'll ask my friends for suggestions of themes, objects, ideas, etc. that they'd like to see in a story, and I pick five of these suggestions to incoporate into a story. The more ridiculous, the better. Should you, my lovely reader, wish to contribute an idea that you think will make for an interesting story, feel free to send me an email with your thoughts! I'm always open to suggestions.

The following was the first story challenge I undertook, originally posted to Facebook on June 5th, 2013.

The suggestions I selected:
- Ducklings
- Fresca
- The "oh shit" feeling
- Below Abslute Zero
- Derpien

And so our story begins...

-------------------------------

Gorun walked casually through the wasteland that he called his home. Irradiated dust floated on the strong winds surrounding him, as if dancing to an unheard jaunty tune. What little of the trees remained creaked in protest as the dance pirhouetted through their charred branches, and the murky pool before him lay perfectly still.

It was all... typical. Unpleasant. In truth it had been a long time since there had been any joy in his life, but he supposed that not dying was some sort of accomplishment to be noted for the memoirs he never expected to write.

It hadn't always been this way, of course. His world (the name of which its inhabitants had never agreed upon) was a truly peculiar place. Every so often a rift would appear in the very fabric of space and time, and something would step, fall, or otherwise materialize through. Sometimes, these happenings were beneficial. They had received strange new foods, forms of entertainment, or even transdimensional travelers, each bringing new knowledge of the universe and making the chaos of their everyday lives somewhat more bearable. Sometimes, however, the results were more dire. Occassionally a monster or other unsavory type would come through the rift, terrorizing the population. Death snuck up on more than a few or those unlucky enough to call this planetoid their home.

On one partcularly sordid occasion, the visitor was of a more mechanical nature. A large nuclear warhead suddenly appeared and denotated, killing much of the population. A few people survived, but the fallout and radiation slowly consumed everyone.

All but one.

The second worst appearance was a nearly unlimited supply of Fresca. One taste of the stuff and the natives knew better than to try again. It did, however, survive the explosion, and for whatever reason it's the only thing not spoiled by the fallout.

Not even radiation likes Fresca.

Gorun cringed as he took another sip of the stuff. He hated himself fr it, but he needed the hydration, and all of the water was too dangerous to drink, now. He loked longingly at the still dark lake, a single tear rolling down his cheek. With a sigh, he began to walk away.

A buzzing in the air made him stop. He turned slowly to see a beam of pure energy pierce the air above the lake. It expanded outward with a thunderous crackling, ripping through the very fabric of space and time.

It was a rift.

He grudgingly took another sip of his drink and put his hand in his pocket, leaning back on his heels and calmly taking in the magical sight before him.

"This should be good," he thought. Whatever was coming through that portal would drop right into the middle of an irradiated lake, so he wouldn't be able to go and get it anyway. All he could do was wait.

There was a bright flash as the rift materialized and delivered its payload. A series of light splashes could be heard as both light and sound subsided. When all was said and done, he blinked several times to clear the dancing lights from his vision.

There, sitting calmly and confusedly in the middle of the dark water, was a family of adorable ducklings. One of the ducklings quacked in surprise. All things considered, they were taking it quite well.

A low, thoughtful hum escaped from the back of Gorun's throat. "Well," he mused aloud, "this won't end well."

He crouched before the lake and removed his hand from his pocket, holding it out in front of himself. With a snap and a waggle of his fingers, he broke the trance that seemed to fall over his new guests. "Here, ducky ducky!"

Delighted, the ducklings began to swim over to the shore, causing ripples to careen madly across the previously still surface of the dark lake. Gorun couldn't help but smile as he watched them cheerfully approach: little beacons of hope in a hopeless world. They nuzzled his outstretched finger when they arrived, quacking innocently. He held out his can of Fresca and let a gentle stream fall to the broken ground.

"Here you go, little duckies. The water's no good, so this will have to do." He felt kind of bad for the little guys, but he assumed that given the choice between Fresca and death, most creatures would choose Fresca.

Clearly, these ducklings were not most creatures. As soon as the green liquid touched their tongues, they began to writhe. The sudden flurry of movement was accompanied by a cacophony of angry squeaks and a strom of soft, yellow feathers. The ducklings before him began to lose their colour as they writhed.

"Oh, shit..."

Gorun backed away, and the ducklings began to grow. The cute, innocent creatures were transformed by their hatred of the putrid carbonated beverage. Their beaks went from soft, orange smiles to horrifying maws of terror, sprouting fangs and steam. Their fluffy yellow coat became a dark mass of whirling shadows. Their cute, button eyes began to glow with a sinister red.

A growl emitted from the duckbeasts, and a thunderous tremor shook the earth as one of them took a step toward their aggressor. The webbed and clawed appendage left a deep imprint in the dust, causing a huge cloud of radioactive dust to glow red with the sinister intent projected from duckbeast eyes.

Gorun dropped the nearly empty can of Fresca, which made a pathetic clink as it collided with a small stone. He shivered before the monstrsities he had inadvertently created. After everything he'd been through, this was the end.

Another great, thunderous step.

Gorun swallowed, trying desperately to find a drop of moisture in his dry mouth. Finding none, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, bracing for his inevitable doom.

Suddenly, he was filled with a tingling sensation. A blinding flash illuminated his eyes, his clenched eyelids doing nothing to protect the sensitive corneas underneath.

And then, silence.

He stood perfectly still. Exactly how long he stood it was impossible to tell. There was no noise, no sensation save for the solid ground beneath him passively resisting his weight and the vast pressure of the silence closing around him. Eventually, he brought himself to open his eyes.

A glowing being floated not 3 meters in front of him. "Hello."

Gorun blinked repeatedly. Each time the world went dark his disbelief resurfaced. He knew that there was no way that when he opened his eyes there would be a gwing alien floating comfortably in the void space before him. It was impossible. His life was strange, to be sure, but his current predicament transcended all reason, and he wouldn't have it. Each time, he was wrong.

The blinking eventually stopped, leaving a stunned Gorun to stare blankly, unblinking, at the creature who had materialized.

The being smirked. "Oh, don't stop on my account. You seemed to be enjoying yourself."

Gorun's jaw dropped.

The being wasn't particularly tall, or particularly short. He wasn't particularly fat, or thing, or strong. He floated lightly in the infinite blackness wearing a simple black t-shirt and equally plain pants, bobbing up and down ever so slightly. His head was covered with a short crop of dark hair, and his skin was dark like chocolate.

Physically speaking, he was strikingly average. What set him apart was a bight blue glow outlining his form against the negative space.

The salfsame smirk on the being's face remined intact as Gorun retrieved his jaw from the floor.

"Um, sorry," Gorun apologized. "This is all a little unexpected."

The being's soft laugh filled what Gorun could only define as the air. "That's an understatement if I've ever heard one." With a flourish, he bowed. "I, as i'm sure you are blissfully unaware, am Derpien."

Unsure of how to react, Gorun responded with an awkward curtsy, eliciting another easy laugh from the being. "Charmed."

He took a moment to take a deep breath and appraise his surroundings. Around him there was nothing. An empty void of blackness the likes of which he couldn't even imagine despite experiencing it firsthand. He looked down and saw more of the same, curiously shifting his weight between each foot. He wasn't sure what he was standing on, but whatever it was he couldn't see it. He took great pains to ensure that neither of his feet actually left the... whatever it was, lest they be unable to find it again.

His inspection was cut short by Derpien's casual voice putting to words what his mind was working furiously to compute. "I suppose you're wondering why your'e here."

Gorun crinkled his nose slightly and pondered. "Not really," he mused. "I think I've got a pretty good idea where I am, though I expected getting murdered by rampaging duckbeasts to hurt more than it did."

He ended with a nonchalant shrug, resigned to his fate. His resignation came to an abrupt halt as Derpien spoke once again: "Oh, you aren't dead."

"Could have fooled me."

"I expect death would be a touch more unpleasant than this.'

Gorun swayed his head a bit as he let that thought sink in, eventually nodding his acceptance. "Okay then, you've got my attention. Where am I."

"You, Gorun are everywhere, and nowhere. You are in the space beyond space, the time beyond time. Here where all worlds meet, the space between dimensions. Everything that is and has been."

There was a pause.

"I love what you've done with the place."

"Thanks," Derpien chuckled. "The Feng Shui is really amplified by negative space."

"So um, where are these worlds you speak of? Seems kind of... barren." He let his gaze wander around him, but having only a glowing alien as a point of reference the experience was a bit disorienting.

Derpien idly let his gaze do the same. "Oh they're around," he mused. "You just have to be willing to see."

Gorun's quizzical look turned to awe as one-by-one monchromatic pools of energy began to wink into existence all around them. Hundreds, thousands, millions, as far as the eye could see (which, lacking atmosphere, but a very, very long way). He looked into a few and saw movement: people walking through streets between tall buildings, trees blowing in the breeze, birds in flight.

One in particular elicited a gasp. To his immediately left was a portal looking over a small, irradiated pond. The duckbeasts wandered grumpily through a familiar terrain. From this angle they seemed immensely less terrifying, though Gorun suspected that was due largely in part to the lack of colour and the disparancy in perceived size.

"Pricks," he muttered.

Derpien smirked.

"So, why did you bring me here? Oh, and thanks, by the way."

A glowing wave of the hand dismissed his sentiment. "Oh, think nothing of it. Actually, I could use your help, if you don't mind."

"Go on."

Derpien gestured. "Look up."

Gorun craned his neck as he looked above him. Hovering there was a particularly large portal, though he could tell it was a great distance away. Nothing inside the portal was moving. He waited patiently for something to happen, but it remained perfectly still. Truth be told, it was a bit unnerving.

"Above you," Derpien explained, "is Absolute Zero."

Gorun's head swiveled back to level. "Ok..."

"-273.15 degrees celcius, or 0 degrees Kelvin, if you prefer."

"You gave me the temperature in Kelvin, but not in Farenheit?"

"Oh come now, Gorun, real people don't use Farenheit. It's idiotic." The assertion was accompanied by another dismissive wave. "In any case, that is the one and only instance of Absolute Zero in the entire history of the multiverse. In that particular dimension, there is not a single moving particle. Anyway. It's as cold as anything could possibly ever be. And it will remain that way forever." His eyes softened slightly as he paused. "Unless you do something about it."

Gorun's resigned face contorted into confusion. "Me? Why me?"

"Well..." The word was darwn out, as if he were searching for some way to finish his sentence that he couldn't quite find. Eventually it trailed off completely, only to be replaced by a heavy sigh. "The short of it is this: in all of these infinite worlds, you have the least to lose."

Gorun's eyes widened. "Duhhhhh, what?"

"Your world is dead. Aside from the duckbeasts, you are the only living thing. Aside from a limitless supply of Fresca, you have nothing, and you will continue to have nothing until the day you eventually die. You will live a sad, lonely life, full of squalor, and then there will be nothing."

As he spoke, Gorun's jaw slipped lower and lower. "This is the least motivating speech I've ever heard."

Derpien's face became apologetic as he shrugged and continued, "What I'm asking you to do is step through that portal. You will most assuredly die, but as the energy is ripped from your body, a chain reaction will occur that will end Absolute Zero forever."

The silence was defeaning. A burning in Goruns chest reminded him to breath, and his mouth snapped shut. His brow creased as he thought. "Why? I mean, it's not bothering anyone..."

"It's a cosmic sink," Derpien explained. "In that world, there is no energy at all. These portals," he swept his arm at the expanse of portals around them, "create their own energy in this transdimensional space. But because of Abslute Zero, no energy can enter that world in its pure form, and so the portal grows. Eventually, it will consume everything. Every world, every dimension: gone. Your sacrifice would save an infinite number of universes from inevitable destruction."

He looked tired as he continued. "I realize it's a lot to take in, and I won't force you to do anything. Should you desire it, truly, in the depths of your heart, I can return you to your world, but know that when you get there all you'd have to welcome you is Fresca."

Gorun shifted his gaze slowly between Absolute Zero and his modest home rift, deep in thought. "I guess I'm not most people either," he muttered.

Derpien's ears perked up as he titled in head in curiosity. "What was that?"

Gorun let out a deep sigh. "I'll do it." His back straightened as his eyes filled with determined resolve. "Saving the world is a a damn sight better than Fresca."

Thing 6: Write a story that begins with a ransom note.

Originally posted to Facebook on May 30th, 2013, this was a very fun passage for me to write. Incompetence can often be quite amusing.

Thing 6: Write a story that begins with a ransom note.

  Give us all yer gold or well kill er.

  Sellick sat back in his rickety chair and admired his handiwork. The note was roughly scribbled on a piece of hide using a charcoal stone he and his partner Ox had found earlier that day. They decided that they would use their superior intellect and their new treasure to finally obtain the vast fortune they sought when they left their home so long ago. Of course the obvious solution was to capture a wealthy princess and ransom her to her parents. After all, what father wouldn't do anything for his daughter?

  Ox scratched his unkempt head as he leaned over his friend's shoulder. "I dunno, Sel, shouldn't we kidnap tha princess 'fore we make tha note?"

  Sellick chuckled as he pushed back his chair, nearly knocking over his burly companion in the process. "Tha's why oi'm the smart one n' yu'r tha' pretty one. How we gonna kidnap a princess if we ain't got no note?" 

  Ox's smile revealed his few remaining teeth as he steadied himself. "Oh yea." He stood on the tips of his toes as he peeked at the note left on the table before them. It, like the rest of their small cave, was illuminated by a single, dwindling candle, giving him just enough light to see the chaotic scribbles. "Whatsit say?"

  He picked it up and held it before him in a regal manner as he cleared his throat. "It says: give us all yer gold or we'll kill 'er!"

  Ox tilted his head in confusion, prompting a small cloud of dust to erupt around him. "Tha's not very nice. Killin' 'er, I mean. Couldn't we jus', ya know, ruffer up a bit?"

  "Well, s'gotta be serious like. Else they won' give us nothin'."

  "But they'd be right mad if she died. If they's all rich and tha' then they'd 'ave a whole buncha soldiers. Whaddif they dun wanna give us nothin'? So we kill 'er, then they kill us, and then we ain't gotten us nowheres."

  Both of the men seemed to deflate a bit at the thought. Sellick frowned as he sat back down in the chair, leaning grumpily on one elbow. After a few minutes of deep thought, during which Ox shuffled clumsily about the cave, he jumped to attention and with a wide grin scribbled another line on the hide.

  "How's this then?" He stretched out the note behind his head for Ox to see: 

  ˙ǝʞıl pɐq lɐǝɹ ɹǝ ʇɹnɥ  ̶˙̶ɹ̶ǝ̶ ̶l̶l̶ı̶ʞ llǝʍ ɹo ploƃ ɹǝʎ llɐ sn ǝʌıפ

  Ox contorted as he attempted to read the text. He eventually found himself leaning fully back like a crab, straining his neck to see the note. 

   Give us all yer gold or well k̶i̶l̶l̶ ̶e̶r̶.̶  hurt er real bad like.

  "Yea, tha's good tha' is! Whoa--" Unable to hold the position any longer, Ox collapsed in a heap.

  Sellick looked over his shoulder in confusion. "Whatcha doin' back thar?"

  "Uh, nuthin'..." He scrambled to his feet. "So 'ow much gold we gonna git?"

  "I dunno, Ox. We gots ta find a really rich princess, an' then we git all tha' gold!" He put the note down in front of him, carefully placing the charcoal beside it before wiping his hands on his tunic.

  "But what it they lie?"

  Sellick leaned back in his chair until it was resting against Ox's burly midriff. "Whatcha mean?"

  "Well..." Ox began to move back as he completed the thought, causing a yelp to erupt from the surprised Sellick, frantically kicking his feet forward until the chair's front legs clicked back to the stone floor. "Lessay summit came an' took yer daugh'r."

  Sellick got up and punched his friend in the arm. "I ain't got a daugh'r, dummy."

  Unphased, Ox continued. "Yea, well says ya did. An summit comes long and snatches 'er up. Then they says 'oy, give us all yer gold er yer daugh'r gits it!'" He crouched and raised his arms to accentuate the point. He then points to Sellick. "N' then you says 'but I ain't got no gold!' What then? They just gives 'er back n says 'okay, 'eres ya go' 'cause y'ain't got nothin'."

  There was an awkward pause as Sellick's face crumpled in annoyance and Ox holds his pose. After a few moments of silence Ox put his arms down, straightened, and cleared his throat. "So yea... 'Cause ya know, they could."

  "Yeah yeah..." Once again Sellick returned to his chair, gingerly picking up the charcoal between his thumb and forefinger. "So what then?"

  "I dunno, ask fer a whole bunch, like..." He thought for a moment. "Like a hunnerd gold!"

  Sellick scoffed. "A hunnerd!? Tha's chump change tha' is!"

  "Uh... How's about a hunnerd thousand gold?"

  Sellick seemed to float off of the chair as his eyes widened at the thought. He quickly sobered himself with a shake of the head and rejected the idea. "Naw, tha's too much. We'd never get it. How's 'bout two thousand? Tha's a heap right thar n' any man'd pay it fer 'is own flesh n' blood."

  "Yea... Tha's a good'n. Toss it on."

  A few frantic scribbles later, Sellick stood and held the note triumphantly before him. 

  Give us a̶l̶l̶ ̶y̶e̶r̶ ᵗᵒᵒ ᵗʰᵒʷˢᵃᶰᵈgold or well k̶i̶l̶l̶ ̶e̶r̶.̶  hurt er real bad like.

  "Yeah, tha's perfect, tha' is." He carefully rolled up the hide and put it in his pocket.  "Now then. Where d'we find a princess?"

They Might Be Heroes: Series 2

Another backstory for another of my wonderful characters. This one was a Pathfinder (D&D 3.75) character that I developed for a recent campaign, and though the campaign hasn't really gotten any momentum, I'm very pleased with how my creation turned out.

This was originally posted to Facebook on May 20th, 2013, and it was written not long before that.

Another side note, the Kitsune are a race of fox-like creatures that can take the form of a specific human at will. This passage also contains a small amount of strong language, so reader discretion is advised.

----------------

Ayaki, the Shade of Cunning
Kitsune Ninja

                Gregor took another swig of his ale as he watched the stage from his dark corner of the tavern. The Hound’s Respite was the sort of cheery and hospitable establishment which attracted all manner of tourists from around the realm, and so each night they would charm their guests with entertainers of all sorts. Tonight, the owner had found a particularly talented human dancer to delight his patrons.
                She was small, even for a girl, but she moved with a grace and poise that he rarely saw in these parts. Her steps brought to life the simple melody of the bard’s lute as she twirled about the stage. Each pirouette brought with it a flowing river of auburn hair which framed her pale complexion and golden eyes with a sea dancing lights as it reflected the various lamps set about the room. Her loose garb ebbed and flowed as she spun and seemed to carefully bend to her every whim. The bells hanging from the golden cloth would softly jingle with each pivot, always in perfect sync with her accompaniment. As she spun, so too spun golden ribbons, floating delicately yet deliberately through the air. Each ribbon was tipped with a magical golden light, making the performance both mesmerizing and surreal. It was undeniably beautiful.
                And yet Gregor took no pleasure in the performance. He took no pleasure in most things, in fact. The rage constantly burning in his belly left little room for contentment, and so he often found himself brooding for no reason beyond that of familiarity. Annoyed, he brought the flagon once again to his lips and continued to watch in grumpy silence.
                It took a moment to realize that the performance had ended. So transfixed was he on the flow of the dance and his own crotchety disposition that he had completely lost track of time. He leaned back in his chair with a groan as his muscles complained at their stiffness. He warily eyed the dancer leave the stage with a smile of childlike innocence on her face. His chair slowly slid back as he stood.
                Then and there it was decided. He would destroy that innocence.

...

                Rats scurried through the city’s dark streets at the sound of footsteps. Gregor’s heavy tread thumped ominously as he moved, his eyes never leaving the small girl in the road ahead. Every so often she would nervously glance behind her, the look of worry in her eyes growing ever deeper as they passed over his grim visage. Each time she would quicken her pace ever so slightly, and Gregor would match.
                He was not going to let his prize escape.
                After several minutes of this dance, the girl came to a side street and paused briefly, as if confused, before taking the path to her right. As she left his sight, he heard her quiet footsteps become fevered as she burst into a sprint.
                “So she’s tryin’ to run, is she? She ain’t gettin’ away that easy…”
                With a grimace, he gave chase, his feet sliding in the mud as he barrelled around the corner at full tilt. Gregor wasn’t exactly a graceful man, but years as the Jackal’s enforcer and a lifetime of poverty made him particularly good at navigating the arteries of the sprawling metropolis. He charged recklessly after his target, greedily smashing through whatever improvised obstacles she would frantically lay in her wake. Soon, though, the chase came to abrupt halt as the alley ended in a solid stone wall. The girl whimpered as she slid through the mud as refuse, hitting the wall with a muffled thunk.
                Gregor dug his boots into the dirt as he came to a stop, sending a shower of muck before him. He took heavy, measured steps as he lumbered toward the girl, his hulking form hunched like a beast and a grim sneer upon his twisted face.
                “Nowhere to run now, bitch,” he hissed.
                With a giggle, the girl’s posture suddenly straightened as she turned.
                “Good.”
                As a flash of magenta light stole his vision, he saw the girl smile.

...

                “Move, bitch.” Gregor prodded his prisoner with his claymore as he approached the Jackal’s lair.
                Before him was a small figure, her arms viciously tied behind her back with a thick rope. The parts of her body not covered with black leather armour were covered with equally black silken fur, her slender snout cushioned in a soft grey that adorned her neck and her palms. Her ears, now flaccid in defeat, both ended in an ebony tuft as sharp as the claws on each of her delicate fingers. Not one, but two dark tails followed her through the street, both tipped in the same murky grey.
                She stumbled a bit as her bulky captor kicked her into the tall building.
“Oy, Gregor, what’s this then?” A stocky dwarf sat perched on a rickety chair in the small entry hall. He was leaning back in his seat, with his feet perched on a small table and his hand perched on a broad axe nearly as tall as he was.
               “You remember how boss man said summit ‘bout someone out to get ‘im? Well I caught th’ bitch. I figure he’ll want a word or two with her.” The kitsune snarled back at him at that. He poked her with his sword in response.
               The Dwarf took his feet off the table and let his chair thunk forward as he let out a quick burst of amused laughter. “Oh hell! Good on ya! Yeah head on in. Things are quiet so you shouldn’t have to wait.”
               “You ‘eard ‘im. Get movin’.” With another prod the dishevelled fox moved toward the stairwell. As they ascended the various thugs and delinquents in the halls began to holler and hiss at her passing. Her eyes filled with tears as her ears filled with their lewd and vulgar exclamations. They fell down her face as she tightly shut her eyes to escape their leering, and she flinched as she was hit by the hard rolls they threw her, unable to dodge because of the confined space and the leash held tightly in the barbarian’s grasp.
               The shrieks from below muffled as Gregor shut the door to the building’s fourth and final floor. He roughly pushed his prisoner against the wooden wall as he rapped on the door of the elaborate office before him.
               A gruff voiced replied. “Come on in, Gregor.”
               The door creaked open as he forced the kitsune through the portal. With one final shove he forced her to her knees, giving just enough slack in the rope for her shoulders to emit an audible crack from the strain.
               For a moment that seemed an eternity the only sound in the room was the panting of the fox and the pointed scribbling of a quill on parchment from behind the office’s large, ironwood desk. When he had finished his thought, the jackal carefully placed his quill on the desk and slowly, deliberately stood. His chair groaned as is grated across the wooden floor.
               “Well then, what have we here?” The Jackal let a hint of a smile adorn his face as he carefully walked around his desk. His measured steps brought him to a halt right in front of the piteous hostage.
               The kitsune slowly raised her eyes to meet his, taking in the enormous presence before her. The Jackal was a large man, even for an orc, and he towered over the tiny creature before him. His rippling muscles were barely contained by the radiant half plate he wore, though both showed scars from years of furious battle. The amused smirk resting upon his face seemed like something out of a nightmare when set aside the garish scar that cut across his face and under the eye patch on his right eye. The room’s flickering candlelight danced upon his pearly tusks and smooth head.
               She began to tremble in his shadow.
               “So I hear that you were hired to take care of me.” His smile widened as he leaned closer. “I regret to inform you that you’ve failed in your mission.”
               After letting his statement sink in, he straightened again, unclasping his hands from behind his back and stepping back slightly. Suddenly, his whole body tensed as his right foot dug into the floor and like lightning his fist flew into the girl’s face. The tremendous blow sent her flying backward, tearing the rope out of Gregor’s hand as she collided with the room’s door with a sickening thud. She whimpered as she collapsed in a heap.
               The smile grew wider.
               As he started walking, the Jackal held out his hand, and without hesitation Gregor handed his master his sword. “I don’t look kindly on assassins.”
               When he reached the shivering pile of fur he stopped and raised his sword. “You’ll be an example to all the others.” With a wild look in his eyes and a howl of rage, he thrust his sword down toward the piteous creature.
               But suddenly she was no longer there. As the claymore stabbed into the floor he felt a small prick on the back of his ankle, in the small space where his greaves met his boots.
               The world became a blur as he turned to see the kitsune crouched in the middle of the office, a small bladed fan clenched in her unbound grip. “Wha…”
               The word trailed off as his eyes rolled back in his head and he fell to the hard floor. The room filled with a thunderous crash as orc and steel collapsed before her.
               The fox smiled before she straightened. “Good night.”
               Ayaki grimaced slightly as she nursed her face. The orc certainly knew how to throw a punch. She was able to absorb some of the impact with her training, but dodging it completely would have been too obvious, and it hurt something fierce.
               She looked over at her thrall for a moment, then with a pointed nod toward the orcish heap before her she issued a mental command to wrap up the body. Gregor immediately pulled a tapestry from the wall and began to roll up the body. The once-proud jackal was now just a helpless mound of flesh.
               That poison was worth every copper, she thought.
               As Gregor hoisted his old master’s body onto his shoulder she idly splashed some of the Jackal’s own wine on the tapestry and mentally commanded him to proceed. He left through the door to the office as Ayaki moved toward the window. She carefully peered at the muddy road four storeys below as the door closed behind her. Through the panels she heard muffled exclamations the incredulous thugs inquire about the commotion.
               Gregor was as blunt as ever. “She didn’t make it. You might wanna leave the boss man alone for a bit. You know ‘ow ‘e gets.”
               Ayaki giggled as she hopped up onto the window’s sill. She was lucky that the city’s underbelly was so undereducated. In any case, her job wasn’t done just yet.
               After a moment of collecting her thoughts, she leaped off of the ledge. With a delicate twist she began to twirl as she accelerated toward the ground. For a brief time the stagnant air of the slums sang through her fur. She revelled in that instant; took it in with a deep breath and a characteristic grin.
               As the ground approached, she released her breath and looked deep within herself. She focused on the energy at her core and directed it outward. The air around her began to thicken, and her descent slowed. Like a feather she alighted into the muck with a graceful curtsy.
               Now then, she thought as she straightened. Let’s get this jackal behind bars.

...

                “Hello gentlemen!”
                Ayaki entered the barracks with a flourish and a bow. The few imperial guards going about their busywork took only a moment to regard the intrusion before going on their way. She heard a few fatigued soldiers muttering their discontent. Only the guard captain acknowledged her entry with a curt nod.
                Ayaki sighed as she straightened and began shuffling across the room to the captain’s desk. She flopped down in the chair he motioned to with a huff. “That wasn’t quite the welcome I was expecting, Captain Fairmont.”
                The captain allowed a tired smile to show through his unkempt beard as he shrugged. “I’m sorry, milady. The Magistrate has been rather demanding of late.” His smile faded as he scanned his men. “It’s taking a toll on all of us.”
                He took a deep breath before he continued. “So, what news do you bring?”
                Ayaki scrunched her nose as she arched into a deep stretch in the chair. “At the moment I don’t bring any news at all, but I can assure you my news will be arriving shortly.”
                This was met with a look of confusion. “I’m afraid I don’t quite understand…” His voice trailed off as a commotion erupted at the entryway. He looked past the now-smiling kitsune to the sight of a large man forcing his way through a number of frantic guards with a stained tapestry slung over his shoulder. “Stop! You can’t go in there! Somebody do something!”
                “It’s alright, stand down.” Fairmont shared a pointed look with his guest before rising to his feet and walking around his small desk. Several of the guards had drawn steel and were beginning to surround the intruder. Gregor stopped in the middle of the room, a few short steps in front of the befuddled Fairmont. “Um, hello there.”
                Ayaki leaned back in her chair and placed her feet upon the captain’s desk. She crossed her hands behind her head and addressed the barbarian without looking back. “Oh Gregor, be a dear and bring your friend down to the dungeon, would you? The good captain will show you the way.”
                Stone-faced, Gregor cracked his burly neck with a twitch of his head. “Well, go on then.”
                There was an awkward moment of silent incredulity before Fairmont, never blinking, motioned to a thick iron door on his right. Gregor readjusted the weight on his shoulder before heading in that direction. He roughly heaved the door open and proceeded to duck through the portal. There was a loud clang as one end of the tapestry banged against the door frame. One of the older guards fumbled with a set of rusty iron keys as he hastily followed.
                “Oh, and find yourself a nice comfy cell while you’re down there. You’ll be here for a while.” Ayaki giggled as he grunted his acknowledgement. She began rocking the chair slightly as Fairmont returned to his desk. He sat down and slowly tucked his chair in, taking a moment to collect his thoughts.
                He opened his mouth as if to speak a number of times, but no sound came forth. After each attempt he seemed to reconsider, his face contorted with disbelief. Eventually, he was able to collect his thoughts.
                “How did you do that?”
                Ayaki let slip another contented giggle before letting the front legs of her chair meet the floor once again. She leaned forward and winked. “I have my ways.”
                She hopped out her seat and causally placed her clawed hands upon the desk in front of her. “In any case, my good captain, you now have in your holding not one, but two of this city’s most dangerous criminals! I hope my service was to your satisfaction.”
                As if hit by a sudden realization, Fairmont jumped in his chair and frantically opened a drawer on his desk. “Oh yes! Certainly. I apologize, milady.” He pulled up a hefty leather bag and placed it between them. The satisfying jingle of coin make Ayaki’s smile widen. “As promised, 40 platinum for the Jackal, and an additional 20 for his enforcer.”
                With a satisfied nod the kitsune deftly snatched the bag and after giving it a quick to test the weight slipped it into her waist pouch. “Excellent! Pleasure working with you, sir.” She turned and began to walk away, but paused to look over her shoulder. “Oh, and my sword if you please.”
                “Of course, I had forgotten. My apologies, milady.” He reached under the desk and produced a scabbard, throwing it to the girl as she continued to walk away.
                She reached behind her and caught it without breaking stride, and in one smooth motion she spun the scabbard beneath her, the sword inside sliding loose from its momentum. As the sword passed in front of her it broke free of its home, spinning as it sang through the air. She gracefully snatched it by the hilt and slowly lowered it in front of her, looking deep into the polished blade. She paused for a moment, as if lost in her own reflection, before dextrously sliding it back into its scabbard, now firmly attached to her hip.
                “Fare well, Fairmont.”

...

               It was a cool, crisp morning. The rising sun bathed the city in golden light as it peeked above the jagged mountains on the horizon. Ayaki took it in with a deep breath from her rooftop perch, her legs swinging with childlike innocence above the streets below. She loved the sunrise. To her, the dawn had its own special kind of magic; turning this wretched, begrimed city into a pace of solemn serenity for but a few precious minutes each day. She leaned back, closed her eyes, and let the morning’s warmth wash over her as she reminisced about her home.
                She pictured the light slowly bringing the forest to life, the fiery reds and yellows of the autumn leaves erupting in a symphony of colour as the local fauna awakened. In her mind’s eye the piercing calls of bird and beast alike filled the air as a pristine breeze rolled gently through her fur. For a perfect moment she let her imagination run wild, and felt perfectly at peace.
                She sighed as she opened her eyes. She missed her woodland village dearly but she knew her curiosity about the world could never be satisfied if she went back. There was far too much to learn.
                The market square below her slowly began filling with merchants carting goods to their stalls. She stretched as she looked over the scene. A few of the traders were greeting each other with joyous exclamations, but for the most part their preparation was a quiet and drowsy affair. They yawned as all manner of goods were placed on display for all in the soon-to-be bustling square to see.
                She idly drummed her clawed fingers on her coinpurse. She had been rather prosperous of late, but her needs were simple ones, and aside from a few extravagant meals she couldn’t decide what to do with her wealth. She took another look over the emerging scene below her. Couldn’t hurt to look, she thought.
                It wasn’t long before she had made her way to the streets below. As she walked between the stalls she greeted each merchant with a casual smile as she perused their wares. She took her time admiring exotic fruits and extravagant (though obviously fake) pendants and jewellery of all sorts as the local denizens began to slowly wander into the square. The air began to fill with the calls of the shopkeepers hawking their wares in desperate search for deep pockets.
                A sudden bellow of “hush, bird!” brought her from her musings. She peered toward the source only to see a small, exasperated goblin angrily tapping his walking stick against a small cage. An exasperated bird of prey screeched its displeasure and resumed tapping its beak on the bars of its prison.
                Amused, Ayaki skipped over to the shop. A large smile accompanied her greeting. “Hello, sir!”
                “Oh, hello there young miss! Can I interest you in any of my fine fare? Beasts of sea, shore, and sky grace my humble shop.” The bird in the cage, an elegant falcon screeched at him angrily. His eyes never leaving the customer and his smile never leaving his face, he struck another blow to the cage with his walking stick, muttering “hush” under his breath.
                “Your little friend doesn’t appear to be having the best of days.”
                His smile turned to a disgruntled pout as he exhaled. “Quite.” He glared at the bird. “Truth be told it’s generally rather well behaved, but it doesn’t like to be confined.” He was met with another screech. “Unfortunately I can’t keep it out of the cage because it also hates to sit still.”
                Ayaki moved her face close to the cage. The falcon responded with a curious tilt of its head. She found it rather odd that a bird, even a bird of prey, wasn’t at least a little put off by having a fox in such close proximity. “Wouldn’t it fly off?”
                The shopkeeper shrugged. “Probably. But that’s not much of a problem.” He fished through the many pockets of his baggy coat and pulled out a small whistle which appeared to be carved out of bone. “As I said, it’s fairly well trained. Three quick blows of this whistle and she’ll come flying right to you.”
                Her eyes lit up a little. She turned to look at the goblin. “I’d like to see that.”
                “Oh well, certainly. One moment please…” The goblin spun around and began searching through a study chest on his wagon. After some rummaging he emerged with a leather gauntlet adorned with a small ring and a tassel. He placed it upon his left wrist before moving to the cage. The falcon screeched in excitement. “You, uh, might want to step back a bit.”
                Ayaki smiled and with a curt nod took two exaggerated steps backward into the road, ending her motion with a quick hop. When he determined she wouldn’t be moving back any farther, the goblin gingerly reached toward the clasp of the cage. The bird inside sat motionless in anticipation. Slowly carefully, the clasp was unfastened. As soon as it clicked, the falcon burst into action, ramming into the cage’s door; eliciting a terrified shriek from the shopmaster and a delighted shriek from his patron. She clapped excitedly as the bird shot into the sky like an arrow. It let out a triumphant screech as it began circling the square.
                It took a minute for the rattled goblin to compose himself. He shook his head a little and wiped the shoulders of his coat before taking a few small steps into the middle of the road. With a brief nervous smile to the kitsune, he cleared his throat and brought the whistle to his lips. He hesitated as it hovered awkwardly before his face. His eyes shifted to his patron, who encouraged him to proceed with raised eyebrows and the most subtle of nods. With a slight grimace and a deep breath, he blew into the whistle.
                It was a much softer sound that Ayaki had anticipated. Three clear, round notes filled the air, and the goblin immediately shot his left arm into the air, ducking and covering his head with his right. There was only a brief pause before the falcon came barrelling down. With a resounding whoosh and a beat of its mighty wings it slowed its descent and softly landing on the goblin’s glove. It let out a delighted screech as it cocked its head in a series of quick movements.
                The goblin visibly relaxed and released a drawn out sigh of relief. He turned back to his patron. “See? Very well trained.”
                Ayaki smiled and darted forward, rubbing the bird’s neck with one of her fingers. It let out a soft coo in approval. “That was wonderful! A very impressive display! And you were so very brave.”
                The goblin blushed. “Ah yes well, all in a day’s work really…”
                Suddenly, the falcon shot off of her master’s arm, who proceeded to let out another terrified shriek. It dove into the street with great speed and snatched up a rat which was scurrying between some of the neighbouring stalls. It snapped the beast’s neck in its talons before circling around and dropping its prize at the goblin’s feet and beginning to feast.
                Ayaki’s eyes widened and her smile grew. “I’ll take it!”
                It took a moment for her exclamation to break through the goblin’s surprise and disgust at the scene before him. “Oh, you will? Excellent! Yes, um, very good. Now then. Yes…” He hastily removed the gauntlet and circled around his stall to fetch a rugged book from his belongings. He opened it to reveal a list of transactions from previous customers. “So, for the falcon, the price is 40 gold pieces, and you’ll be needing the gauntlet of course, which is an additional 10.” He scribbled down a quick note in the logbook.
                “I’ll also take that delightful whistle and a day’s worth of feed, if you have it.” She excitedly fastened the falconry gauntlet to her wrist as she spoke.
                “Ah yes, of course. That will increase the price by 1 gold piece, bringing your total to 51 gold pieces.”
                She reached into her coinpurse and counted out the necessary funds, eagerly passing them to the shopkeeper before bending down to retrieve her new pet, now nearly finished with its breakfast. She held out her wrist and the bird casually hopped into place. She fastened the ring to its ankle before straightening to retrieve the rest of her order.
                The goblin smiled in relief as he closed his logbook and stowed it back in his cart. “Oh, you can have the cage as well, no charge. It comes with—“
                “That won’t be necessary, master goblin.” Ayaki looked deep into her pet’s eyes as she interrupted him. “Pariah is a free bird. Her only cage shall be her imagination.”
                “Pariah…?”
                “A pet must have a name, master goblin.” With a final smile at the shopkeeper, she began to walk away. “Now then, my dear. Let’s have an adventure.”