Words Written: 1537
Excerpt:
Esther mused as the insomniac nyctophiles ambled underneath the moon, swooning by the promises of halcyon days framed by the stars and meteors and heartbreak. Days that stretched too long in its burning intensity and nights where rain draped lovers in midst of sweet kisses.
The warmth of Ivory's breath lingered down from ear to her collarbone, pressing a ghost of a kiss as she commented offhandedly about her day. Esther wondered if she hadn't spent days underneath the earth in its caves and stations, if she'd still have the sun-kissed skin of her mother when she looked in the mirror, missing her in the curve of her lip, the shape of her jaw, and the dip in her brows.
She missed her terribly, the lilt in her lullabies, the firm frown laced with mirth when Milas burnt his mouth for the fourth time in the same meal.
She remembered the familiar weight of her hand that had now been replaced in her chest, uncomfortably tight around her throat and ribs.
Her father would keep them safe, with his calloused hands that could lift her up and twirl her in a dance, with the rage and ferocity that rivaled her mother.
She would gather their numbers, keep them safe- find them again.'
The twins drag Ling down the dark corridors. The pink one, holding Ling's left arm, barely keeping herself from giggling. He sister, on the other hand, is equally attempting to conceal her anxiety.
"Ya don't have to," says Ling, "If ya don't want to." With purple's confused grunt, Ling continues, "I know my daughter put ya up to this."
"What? No," says the anxious twin, "I'm honored to be here tonight."
"Pinky," says Ling, turning her head, "What're we going to do tonight?"
"You're going to eat me," says the giggly twin in a raw raspy voice, then she growls, "then I'm going to eat you."
"Beauty," says Ling, turning back, "See, your sister's got a good time planned."
"I'm not going to leave this to her alone," says the lighter voiced twin, as a maid spots the trio and darts off.
"But sister, Natya will be-"
"Not there."
"Do ya two have a pair of doors to be guarding?" asks Ling, her tail wiggling its way out from her robe, "Pinky, if I asked your sister what ya would say your name is, what would she say?"
"What are you talking about?" asks the purple one, as her sister attempts to decode the question.
"Naleemi," she says, "She would call me my name." She giggles. "Sister, what would the doctor say if-"
"We're not playing this game," interrupts her sister, "and to save you time, Dr., I am Nataki."
"Nice to meet ya, Nataki," says Ling. "Glad ya can answer honestly. Now, how many are waiting for us?"
"None," says Nataki, "It's j-"
Ling slaps Nataki's butt with her tail. "Who's Natya, Naleemi?"
"She's my girlfriend," giggles Naleemi, "She's so smart. She's always planning."
"She's always scheming," mutters Nataki.
"Where's she from?"
"The North Pole!" shouts Naleemi as the twins drag Ling around a corner. "Sister's friend, Emera is from up north too."
"Solar elves?"
"Nyata is," says Naleemi, as the group reaches their destination, "Emera is a northern tree elf."
"The proper names are the horakty and the osisi," chides Nataki, opening the door into a dark bedroom. A pair of elven figures are barely visible within.
"I told you before," says a tanned elf clad in a yellow outfit otherwise identical to the twins (unlike they're bun, her hair is cut like a long bob), "if I killed your loser boyfriend, I'd be rubbing your filthy nose in it. I tell you all about how pathetically he died." She twirls a bladed tonfa. "But I didn't and I know you're only blaming me because your jealous that I'm with a princess while you hold your tongue, waiting for-"
"Jealous of a snake like you?" yells a green-clad elf of far darker complexion, her hair braided to her knees. "Princess Nataki is my friend. Friendship, have you heard of it? Is that concept too alien to you. Exploiting Naleemi is going to-"
"Friendship? Friendship, again?"
"Lmaoth, help me," mutters Nataki, as Naleemi clears her throat.
"G'day" says Ling, "Nyata and Emera, I presume."
With dinner and the stories over, Empress Jevoi rings a phantom bell. "Let us retire then," she says, "As promised, I have agents ready to accompany you to bed, Mum."
Ling feels arms grab onto hers: lithe arms, yet a firm grasp; two people, nearly identical. Ling turns to see one then then the other.
They are a pair of vrow, but subtle traits in the eyes, brow, and ears hint at orc descent. They have a slight green tint to their violet skin,long raven hair, and shimmering yellow eyes. Both are clad in leotards with long gloves and boots and masks covering their mouths. One is in purple, the other pink.
"G'day," says Ling, "Didn't think ya were real."
"I made a promise," says Jevoi. She gestures to the ladies. "You know what to do."
"G'night, Dalini," says Ling as they haul her away, "Got some wizarding to do."
"G'night, Nana," yells Dalini, lifting her face off of her plate. "Have fun with your friends." She resumes sucking the plate clean.
After Ling has been removed from the room, Jevoi sighs. "This was a terrible mistake."
"It's not going to work," says Angustias.
"No," says Jevoi, alert again, "I mean the cake." She points to Dalini jittering about, now trying to eat the plate.
Ling forces the passage stone back into place. The smears of viscera weigh upon her mind. "Thanks for... something, ya b*****d."
J: Why would you be upset about him dying. L: Because nobody had to die. I didn't want him dead. I wanted the witches to give up; they hadn't killed anyone yet. They could have ...cleaned the forest? Something to make amends. J: Seems like it worked out just fine.
Ling hurries down the corridor. "Yo, Outie," she yells, "Where're the kids?"
"Same."
As Ling approaches the portal, a red stone, with several indentations, the size of her head is launched from it into her claws.
Ling twists and turns it, inspecting it's odd shape. "Thanks, mate," she says, sliding it into her cloak, "Now, about those kids."
Out of the portal pops seven kids: two smallgoblins (the boy with spiky growths), two kobolds (one is red, the other white), a teen dwarf (with a poorly shaved beard), an elf (with hair of gold), and an orc (fingers covered in burn scars).
"Ripper, the lot's all here," says Ling, before clearing her throat, "We're getting out of this cave, back to town, stop by Gizzard King, and get ya all home. How's that sound?"
"Gizzard King!" yell Hanzy and Grater the smallgoblins, throwing their hands up, "Thank you, Jevoi's Mom."
"I don't..." mumbles the orc presumably known as Matches, "I don't have a home."
"Then I'll find ya one," says Ling, leaning down to eye level. "No worries, got it?"
Loxi (elf) whispers to Genette (dwarf) and nudges her forward.
"Dr. Ling," Genette begins awkwardly, "I- I don't want to go."
Ling almost begins speaking, but looks across the other kids first.
"They know."
"Okay," Ling whispers to herself. After everything thus far, this should be easy. "I can't make ya go back, Genette, but I don't know what ...uh?" Ling realizes she doesn't even know where that sentence was supposed to be going.
"I want to work for Uncle J."
"Who?" Ling conjures chairs for everyone.
"And why should I allow that?" Ling stares at the portal.
"Besides you," says Genette, sitting down "He's the only adult willing to listen." She sighs. "And I know you only did because you knew no one else would. You never told me that I'm bad or weird for how I feel."
"I'm not going to lie," says Ling, awkwardly laying forward in her backward chair, "Even knowing some others that went thr- are th- ya know what I mean." Ling rubs her head in frustration. "But just 'cause I was the first doesn't mean I'm the only one who'll treat ya the way ya deserve to be, the way everyone deserves to be. See, when I first moved to Rankedge, no one could understand me; I was that fast-talking wizard from Ozzel -er, Ozzelia. And back in Ozzelia, I was that weird lizard from the surface."
Ling takes a moment to look at the kids; while the teens understand, the younger ones are a bit confused.
"No worries, though," says Ling, "Because I always found people who didn't see me that way. Always found mates that treat me right, and that's why I try to pay that forward."
J: Yet you mock me for "walking like an elf." L: 'Cause it reminds me of the drongo I used to be, thinking looking like a mammal would make them see me as a person. It didn't work, like I told those kids back then.
"I don't know if me saying this is helping ya," says Ling. She takes her wig off and puts it into her cloak, "But it's honestly helping me."
"So why don't you trust Uncle J?" asks Genette, "Why judge him like that too?"
Ling thinks for a second and, finding no answer that would sound out of place coming from Mr. Geneson or the late sheriff about her, concedes. "I'll have faith in your faith, but if Uncle J acts up, ya call Aunt Ling."
"Can we join too?" asks Rosen the red kobold.
"Yeah, I think our boss here's... you know," says Graupel, pointing down.
"I guess there's your coven," laughs Ling, "Now, le-"
"Wait," says Genette, leaning forward suddenly, "You said you knew others like me? Who do you know? Why didn't you say that earlier?"
"I didn't know if that'd help," shrugs Ling, "One's a bloke in a billib- swamp, a ways away. Another's a vrow sheila that... may not be a great role model. Then th-"
"Well, maybe I need a bad role model," says Genette with a smirk.
"Ya cheeky little..." Ling tassles Genette's hair, then gets serious. "Why'd ya come out here anyway?"
"I thought my aunt Gudrun would let me stay with her," says Genette, mood falling again, "But her crazy girlfriend dumped me in that portal."
"Aunt Gudrun?" Ling maintains a calm facade. "Anyone else know about her?"
"Mom hates her," says Genette, pulling on her scratchy almost-non-existent beard, "She says we can't let anyone else know about her."
Ling continues to stay calm in front of kids. "I'll let the deputy know."
Loxi interjects. "Deputy? The guards are here?"
Ling nods. "Yeah, hopefully she'll deal with your dad," says Ling to Genette, "I'm still thinking of what to say if he comes knocking."
"Just tell him the truth," says Loxi, wagging her finger, "He's not going to ask about Genette."
Ling laughs, "Just like your aunt..." She whispers to the dwarf, "She's a keeper, girl."
The teen dwarf sputters and fails to come up with coherent series of words.
Ling smiles, "Find mates that'll treat ya right; that's all I'm saying."
Loxi smiles at Genette, who blushes and fidgets awkwardly.
"Are we still going to Gizzard King?" yells Grater.
J: What was the point of this story, Mum? That I should feel bad about killing that lousy sheriff? "Prejudice is bad;" I already know that. L: What message could a yarn about an awful person in power not always bring that way have for an empress? Ya really think I care about that creep that used ya to blackmail me into her bed? J&L: ... J: Mum... L: Let's stop here.
L: The first rule of magic duels is don't get into magic duels. The second is to remain calm; if ya lose your s***e, ya soon won't have s***e left to lose.
The first to move is Tanglepork. Dodging an opportune swipe of Ioana's claws as she runs away, she reloads her gun. She quickly turns and fires, but her nerves betray her and the bullet barely misses the lycan's head.
Ioana's fierce gaze remains locked on her prey as she commands the air to twist around her. It becomes like a miniature tornado as she chases after the gnome.
Gudrun locks eyes with the minotaur. "Obey me," she says, her eyes alight.
L: The third rule of magic duels is to know what your opponent can do and prepare to counter it.
"Not this time, b***h," says Honeycrisp, shaking off the force trying to insert itself into his mind.
Gudrun pulls out a silver wand. "Fine."
Honeycrisp focuses and magic courses through his body, accelerating him. Sparks dance upon his horns.
L: Corollary: Know what your opponent knows ya can do and don't do it.
Ling raises a wall of ribs, splitting a third of the room away, isolating the lycan and the deputy from the rest of them. The massive ribs connecting ceiling to floor have gaps too small for most of the room's occupants. "This way, Porky," commands Ling, as she positions herself by the passage to the portal room.
J: How many wall of bones spells do there really need to be?
"Ling," whines Zingiber, "You're supposed to be fighting me." She releases a blast of glittery fire into Ling's face, but the gex licks her eyes clean.
Tanglepork takes a liking to the idea of people not seeing things and turns invisible, then attempts to sneak around Ioana to reach the bone wall. Her steps are calculated to match the rhythm of the other fighters.
Ioana sniffs about and detonates a burst of fire where she believes the gnome to be hiding, but by some gnomish trickery (possibly breakdancing), the deputy remains unharmed.
Gudrun fires a purple beam from her wand, but Honeycrisp defects it with his horn. "S***e," she says, calmly. Foreseeing the sheriff's next move, she conjures a shield in front of her.
Honeycrisp charges forward, his horns smash open the shield. While his target is unharmed by that, the hook to her face makes quite the impact, knocking free a tooth, which explodes. The shrapnel then defies physics and embed themselves in the dwarf's neck.
Ling conjures a facsimile of a dryad -a type of tree nymph- that wraps her arms around the elf. "Hey there, cutie," says the dryad with a wink.
L: Preventing your opponent from casting at all is the strongest option. A lot of magic requires somantics.
Zingiber forces an arm free. "Getting off on this, Dr. Ling?" She gestures wildly. "Then check this!"
Unfortunately for Zingiber, her spell fails for multiple reasons: Tanglepork is out of the area, Honeycrisp (bull) and the dryad (plant) don't have the targeted anatomy, and Ling, because of her experiences in Wizard School, always begins the day with protective spells like Genital Mirror Shield. Thus, the caster herself is the only affected person.
Zingiber clutches her guts as her Ovarian Explosion nearly rips apart her insides. "Mistake."
J: Who even crafted that? Why make that?
"Serves ya right," shouts Ling.
Invisible, Tanglepork sneaks up to the ribs while quietly reloading her weapon and squeezes through. Aiming back through, she takes another shot breaking her disguise. The bullet, buffeted by the wind, glances the lycan's shoulder. "Oh, come on," the deputy grumbles.
If Ioana were the beast she looked like, she'd just run up to the ribs and try to smash through, but the witch is smarter than that. The bones form a fence she can cast through and, with the wind making her a difficult target, she's free to do so. She condenses a suffocating cloud around the gnome. "You can't escape," she growls.
"Help me," demands Gudrun to Zingiber, taking a defensive step away. She locks eyes with Ling and a mental bomb causes her to recoil in pain.
J: How many counters do you have? L: One more than I think I'll need.
"Time to put you b***hes in your place," says Honeycrisp.
"Can you shut your f**king mouth for five b****y minutes!" yells Ling.
"Great idea!" Honeycrisp forms a zone of silence around himself and lunges headfirst into Gudrun, impaling her on his horns and lifting her off the ground.
L: A lot of magic requires incantations too.
Now unable to hear, the false dryad looks to Ling for instruction. Ling gestures for her to keep Zingiber in that area close to the sheriff. Ling then condenses the cloud around the deputy into a shield of water.
Zingiber punches and knees the dryad, bashing onto bark-coated flesh. Breaking free, she scrambles out of the inaudible zone.
Tanglepork peers around the shield (reloading) and focuses on that first bullet, the one that's still in the back of the lycan's skull. The tiny piece of lead becomes hotter, burning its way into the witch's brain.
Screeching with pain, Ioana draws in through the floor as much spiritual energy as she can. The sheriff cannot avoid having part of his soul drained and the dryad wilts, while Tanglepork's fidgeting about causes her to be less effected and Ling avoids it entirely by hopping onto the wall, taking note that Zingiber is casually unaffected.
Gudrun thrashes about, desperately trying to free herself from the horns. Her punches and kicks are not enough, however.
A bright light flashes the room as Honeycrisp channels electricity through his horns and Gudrun's body. He then charges at Zingiber slapping her across the room with her dwarven cohort's charred, but still living body.
L: Anything is a weapon. Everything is a weapon.
Ling takes a moment to think. Two of these witches should be dead now; why aren't they? It must be that contract. She commands the weakened dryad to grab the elf again (which she does). Ling yells, "Porky, we need to leave."
Zingiber once again forces her arms free to aim another spell and then shoves the dryad away. The sheriff collapses as his muscles detach themselves from his bones. Ling recognizes her own spell, Tendon Tearer.
As Tanglepork continues to burn a hole through Ioana's head, she yells to Ling, "How?" She takes another shot from the other side of the shield, sinking a bullet into the lycan's chest. "Eat that!"
Ioana retreats to the entrance door, as if daring her enemies to try to get through her. She stomps on the ground, causing the already misshapen cubes of the room to twist around becoming a series of crude pyramids. Now even just standing here is an issue.
Gudrun pries her body off of the sheriff's horns and pathetically crawls away. Her bleeding, burnt body struggling to cross the threshold of sound due to the floor's sudden shift.
Honeycrisp sends a message via vibration directly through the floor and wall to Ling's ear bones. While she doesn't know the exact meaning, it isn't hard to guess the intent.
J: Why would you keep saving him? L: Because it's the right thing to do. A: Meat shield.
Ling restores the sheriff's ability to move -his muscles reattaching themselves- and orders the dryad to muzzle the elf; the dryad's solution is to shove her hand into Zingiber's mouth.
Zingiber bites the hand and pulls a brown jewel out of her robe. She stabs it into the dryad's ear and detonates it. The dryad's mostly headless body dissipates.
Tanglepork pulls a glass bottle out of her pocket and lodges it into the barrel of her gun. The special bottle is launched by the force of her shot and explodes on impact with the lycan, whose whirling winds erupt into flame. "Give up already!"
Ioana quickly draws the moisture in the air (and the water shield) onto her person, suffocating the fire. Realizing her wind had burned away, she conjures a shield to deflect further gunfire.
Gudrun crawls further from the sheriff and attempts to scramble his brain, but cannot tell what effect she actually has.
Honeycrisp leaps with intent to crush the elf, but his vision is blurred and wobbly like a drunkard, and he smashes his fist centimeters away from her head. She weaves around the following blows.
Ling continues to rack her brain. She kicks off a burst of mental energy, accelerating her thoughts. Zingiber mentioned several construction-related spells and this lair is blatantly artificial, that entity needs mortals to interact with this world, and the witches seemed to have thought that sacrificing children into the portal was the point. ...Maybe they built the portal? So, having them harm it would break the contract?
"Porky, this way," she yells as she forms an arrow of light pointing to herself in front of Honeycrisp, "Pull back!" Ling hopes that the witches will follow after them.
While Honeycrisp is distracted, Zingiber sees an opportunity. The sheriff's horns are covered in her friend's blood. Reaching up and grabbing them, the elf drives the blood like knives into his skin and rips his face off.
A: I like this woman. Obviously became a demon.
"You f**king b***h!" Tanglepork's rage cannot penetrate the muted bubble the elf remains in, but her bullet can, barely grazing Zingiber's nose.
"Time to end this," says Ioana, teleporting right behind the deputy. A swipe of her claw slices open the gnome's backside.
"Help me," calls out Gudrun, putting pressure on her bleeding wounds. She tries to lock eyes with the deputy, but the gnome is too wrought with emotion.
Bleeding profusely, Honeycrisp slams his fists into the elf's guts, sparks passing through her organs with each strike.
"Can't get near the k**bhead," Ling grumbles. She calls upon the sheriff's flesh to mend itself, stealing pieces of Zingiber's hands in the process.
Zingiber dodges another swing as she rolls out of the silent bubble and does a wild swinging display spraying her own blood about into floating runes that drive themselves into the sheriff. On contact, the pieces of herself stuck in his face explode, taking his head with them.
Screaming with rage and grief, Tanglepork races toward Ling across the crooked, spiky floor and tries to shoot the blood-dancing elf. The bullet comes nowhere close.
Ioana chases after and commands pieces of the stone floor to erupt as a cage around the gnome, but the agile deputy leaps to freedom.
"Stop," demands Gudrun, but the deputy refuses.
L: But the most important rule of a magic duel is:
"We're getting the kids," yells Ling, ostensibly to Tanglepork, "And then we're getting the f**k out of here." She conjures a massive potato to block the lycan's path.
"No, you're not," yells Zingiber forming further runes. With a great forceful push, the corpse of the sheriff is launched at the doctor, who dives out of the way. The body tumbles into the corridor and explodes, collapsing the tunnel.
L: Never forget why you're fighting.
"Zingiber, you fool!" yells Ioana, but it is too late.
From the liquid metal in Ioana's brain and the burnt, ruptured organs in Gudrun's body, the two die with no fanfare.
"What?" Zingiber staggers forward in confusion, the blood-loss killing her slowly. "That's not fair."
Tanglepork stops running. Ling and she carefully walk toward Zingiber. "You killed my boss," says Tanglepork, out of breath.
"Whatever," says Zingiber, focusing on Ling, "Going to kill me, Ling? Plenty of ways to make me suffer. You could sta-"
"I'm talking to you," says the deputy.
"I don't want y-"
The deputy helps Zingiber paint the ceiling a delightful new shade of pink.
"Bl'ell, Porky," mutters Ling, "You didn't-"
"It's over." Tanglepork sits down.
Ling turns to the collapsed passage. "I'll get the kids..." She looks around at the bloody mess that was once three witches. "...And ya... deal with this?"
The lycan, Ioana, stands in her nightgown wearing a simple jacket, Ling's wig in hand. "What is going on down here?"
"Oi, my hair." Ling holds up her hands in front of her, inviting Ioana to throw it her way. "Thanks for that."
"Deputy, where are the others?" asks the sheriff, "Also, my knife?"
"I'm the only one, sir," says Tanglepork, saluting, "And it's in the pond, sir."
"Then why didn't you grab it?"
"The fair lady will only give it to its owner: you."
"A man's got to do everything around here."
"Shove it, mate," says Ling, adjusting her wig, "First is the witches. We con-"
"Oh, new guests!" shouts Zingiber, twitching with excitement, Gudrun right behind her.
"Which one do ya want, Doctor?" asks Gudrun, "Ya've earned it."
"The bl'ell are ya spouting now?" yells Ling.
"Wait, who's what?" sputters Tanglepork.
"Deputy, get the men," says Honeycrisp, his nostrils flaring, "I'll handle this brainjacking b***h."
"Ya took control of him?" asks Gudrun.
"Are you throwing us under the cart?" asks Zingiber.
"Officer," whispers Ioana to Tanglepork without looking away from the witches, "I think we need to get out of here."
"What are ya trying to pull, Gudrun?" Ling adjusts her cloak.
"Porky." "Deputy." "Officer." "Gnome." "Little thing." The voices blended together, contradictory commands overlapping pulling the gnome's attention apart in a dizzying cacophony.
"Oh," says Ioana, stumbling forward, "Why?"
Tanglepork's gunhand trembles as she stares into the hole in the back of Ioana's head. "Do you think I'm stupid?"
"Yes," growls Ioana, turning to face her attacker, her face contorting savagely, "I do."
"Why did you do that, idiot?" barks Honeycrisp, "You really trying to kill an eldritch witch with a gun?"
"Bl'ell, everyone wait," says Ling, "I talked to your boss, witches. The kids are alive; we can work this out."
All attention turns to the doctor.
"Why would you trust it?" asks Honeycrisp, "The thing's helping these-"
"It said... something that meant it was talking to the kids," says Ling, nervously, "Or, at least, knew them."
"Is this about the brat you're selling drugs to?"
"I'm not selling drugs."
"Right," says Honeycrisp, "Giving drugs to."
"Not the time, Sheriff."
J: Why didn't you ever just use that surgery spell you crafted on her? L: Because she didn't want it? J: ...Valid.
Zingiber interrupts. "Oh, if they're still alive, we can kill them ourselves!"
"The screaming was nice," says Gudrun, fondly, "We can make a whole choir this time."
"Hate to waste that meat," mutters Ioana.
"What is wrong with ya?" yells Ling, "I'm trying to get ya c**ts out of this!"
"If you think I'm letting these c**ts go," yells Honeycrisp, "You'd best be ready to share a grave with 'em!"
"Ugh, so glad my son doesn't talk like this," mutters Gudrun as the doctor and the sheriff resume cussing each other out. She turns to her elven cohort. "Ioana's got the gnome, I'll take Captain Bulls***e, and-"
"Dr. Ling will feed me my own a**e," says Zingiber with a chipper enthusiasm more appropriate for boarding a carnival ride.
"Or ya could try winning," says Gudrun, exasperated.
"Love the confidence, and I will try," says Zingiber, "But she's going to destroy me, just like she did earlier."
The deputy is unfortunately not forgotten in this mess. The lycan looms over her. What they have to say transcends language, visible by a glance: Ioana expresses an intent to eat and Tanglepork expresses a need to change her pants.
And thus, the fight begins.
"Listen fast," says Ling to the still dazed minotaur, "The kids are alive, there's one witch coming, and the second's getting the third. I've infily'ed their coven and ya're brainwashed. Play along."
Sheriff Honeycrisp has several questions. Unfortunately for him, Zingiber footsteps were slowly growing louder. He lies back into the junk pile, feigning unconsciousness.
"Water for the lady." Zingiber presents a chalice to Ling as if it contained wine or nectar.
"Thanks, mate." Ling chugs it immediately.
"Ready to see my work?" Zingiber sways with glee. "My latest I call Marrow Radiance."
"Can ya make him do stuff?" Ling puts the empty cup down.
"Oh," says Zingiber, deflating, "Like what?"
"I was just wondering if ya knew mind s***e."
"That's Gudrun's thing."
"So, she had him blame someone in town, then?"
Zingiber giggles, "Sort of. She let him just pick someone who'd fit."
"Really now." Ling resists the negative urges rising in the back of her mind. 'Think of the kids, Ling,' she thinks to herself.
"Sheriff, walk to the main room," Zingiber commands, "Any ideas, Dr.?"
Honeycrisp rises and stumbles his way out, quietly grumbling all the while.
As the ladies follow him, Ling asks, "I thought coven's shared magic. Are ya all studying extra things?"
"Yeah, the coven stuff is mostly utility: reshaping land, portals, material conversion."
"Sounds like your boss wants a construction crew," says Ling, carefully navigating the misshaped hall, "Any idea why?"
Zingiber shrugs. It wasn't going to be that easy.
"Can ya make the sheriff do cartwheels?"
"Yeah, but why?" asks Zingiber, "I can do soooo much worse."
"Gotta start small, mate," says Ling as they enter the main room again. "If ya do your big evil s***e now, how do ya top it?"
"Point taken," sings Zingiber, "Alright, moo-man, do s-"
"Zinj, I need to talk to ya," says Gudrun, standing by another door. She scowls at Ling. "In private." She looks to the sheriff. "Watch the doctor," she commands.
"Sure, what's up?" Zingiber dances across the room and follows her coven-mate into the darkness.
"Cartwheels, really?" angrily whispers Honeycrisp.
"Ya want her to pull your skeleton out your a**e?" whispers back Ling, "That one's a loon."
"All you b***hes are loons," says Honeycrisp, "Chaotic w***es the lot of you."
"Ya got a f**king problem, mate?"
"Yeah, c**ts like you!" shouts the sheriff.
"Of course, they do, b*****d," shouts back Ling, "They wouldn't hate ya if ya'd stop being a sack of s***e!"
"You diseased s**t!" Honeycrisp steps forward, his figure towering Ling. "Just here to bang the kidnappers."
"B****y f**kwit!" Ling stands as tall as can, glaring into his eyes. "Just mad ya've been saved by a woman; ya hate us so much."
"You barely count as a woman, p***y-sucking lizard."
"Says the cuckold farm animal!"
"What is this language?" asks Ioana, who had slipped into the room unseen.
"Wow," mutters the diminutive deputy behind her.
After getting their clothes, Ling once again plots a course.
"Question, mate," says Ling, following Zingiber into the junk-filled chamber, "Heard some kids have been coming out this way. They with you?"
"Oh," Zingiber squeaks slightly and giggles, "Yeah, those kobolds have been a huge help. Huge help." She laughs quietly, but, as Ling can no longer deny, evilly.
The comatose bull still stands in silent indignity, yet still towers over the elf and gex.
"I've been practicing a few spells on this dummy," says Zingiber, "But Gudrun still needs him for her plans, so I can only do weak reversible s**t to him, like Torsion spells."
Ling laughs. "Ah, reminds me of school," she says, secretly casting a spell, "B*****ds spamming that spell so much, that the whole place had Genital Shield Mirror up at all times."
L: Morality classes really should mandatory at wizard schools, to introduce the concept at least.
"You must have SO many stories about spells," says Zingiber, getting too close for Ling's sense of safety, "Especially about the o̶̢̡͇͇͚̣̮̖͍̠̗̱̍͋͑̔̿̉̿̌̀̎̕͜r̶̛͈̜̭͉͍͚̃̋͐̆͛̐͗̈́̎̏̕c̸̢̨̞̹͈̙̠͉̋́̀͝ ̴̗̱͈̙͉̪̝̳̣̝͕̩̮͉̫̖͒̽͊̓̓̅͊̆͌͜w̴̛̝̟̤͊̏͐́̌̓̄̑͒̒͗͗͗̃̚͜͝ả̶͔̣͖̘̳̫̜͓͕͒̇̉̇̕̕͘͝r̶̢̧̢̛̜͇̯̖̘̘͉̗͗̅̎́͑̈̋̌͆̅͛̕̕͝."
L: Aargh. J: What's wrong? About the what? L: Don't remember...
A sudden pounding pulses through Ling's brain like SONAR through unlucky fish. She grips her head and hisses.
"What's wrong?" The elf takes a step back. "Do you need something?"
"Water," says Ling, scraping her claws along her head-scales, "Get me water."
"On it!" sings Zingiber, "Be right ba-ack." She prances down the corridor.
Ling immediately turns her attention to the sheriff, fighting to clear her thoughts. "Alright, cavebull, time to unf**k your brain." Harnessing her knowledge of physical brains, Ling attempts to counter the hex holding Honeycrisp. Grabbing his head, she channels a torrent of magic through it. The process puts her own mind back at ease.
The light returns to Honeycrisp's eyes. They dart about his head in confusion before settling on Ling. "Get your w***e hands off me," he growls, pushing Ling away.
"Ya're welcome, ya b*****d." Regret surges forth like an open wound.
Having defeated the witches in honorable combat, Ling now has the chance to explore their lair.
Wasting no time, Ling crawls from the bedchamber back to the main room and enters the next corridor clockwise. These tunnels are as unsafe to navigate as the rooms are: misaligned walls, ceiling overhangs, random steps in the floor.
In the chamber Ling chose arbitrarily, she discovers a yellow-furred minotaur clad in leather armor lying amongst piles of random junk.
"Sheriff Honeycrisp?" asks Ling, "What the- How long have ya been down here?" Ling approaches and shakes the bull.
The sheriff is neither dead nor asleep, but trapped in magical stasis. As he would become an issue in-and-of himself, Ling decides to simply make a note of him.
L: Sleeping bruty would have to wait.
Silently scurrying, Ling looks for another passage. After discovering the kitchen, toilet, and a braintree arboretum, Ling stumbles upon a portal chamber. The dark spiraling tentacled maw shines an unnatural light onto the ceiling.
Ling steps back out of the room, contemplating on both how to confront the coven and how much faith this elder god can afford.
J: And you trusted that? L: It was right; Hanzy was the only boy missing. I was still holding out hope that it was all a misunderstanding and no one was actually evil.
"What're ya prowling around for?" asks a tired Gudrun cloaked only in darkness, causing Ling to jump.
"Water," says Ling, recovering, "Forgot my water."
"Why'd ya come here?" asks Gudrun, low-key irritation growing in her voice.
An idea forms in Ling's mind. "Something called me," she says softly, walking ever closer to the dwarf, "Dark, dangerous." She stops right in Gudrun's face, "Deep." She licks the dwarf's ear. "Do ya feel it down here?"
Gudrun attempts to respond, but emotions and exhaustion cut off all attempts. She sputters, red in the face. Fortunately for her, it is at this exact moment that Zingiber prances into the scene.
"What are you two up to?" she sings, "Ready for round two?"
J: Do you really have to talk about this in front of Dalini. L: She's not listening to this story anyway. Not since ya put that huge cake in front of her. D: CAKE CAKE CAKE NOM CAAAKE L: Great parenting, by the way.
"Always, but I've got a question: what are ya beauties doing down here?" Ling says backing away from Gudrun. "Most witches I know stay clear of the Underdank."
"We're working with someone special," says Zingiber, "He's kind of a pain, though. He speaks in riddles and code. He'll say not to do things when he clearly wants us to do them. The eldritch are silly like that."
Ling nods along. "When's your mate showing up?"
"I guess I can message her; she'll want to meet ya." Gudrun heads back to the bedchamber. "Zinj, ya watch her."
"Absolutely!" shouts Zingiber, "I can show her all my cool murder and torture spells." The elf dances about, like a schoolgirl or an electrified worm.
"Ripper," mutters Ling, her hope bitterly dying.
As Ling approaches the metal windmill, the ground under it groans and shifts. A chunk of land rises up, revealing a crude staircase.
"If anyone is still alive up there," demands a young woman's voice from the dark, climbing upward, "Identify yourself."
"A passing wizard," says Ling, "Who's asking?"
"I am the Gr- hold on, give me a second," says the voice, hurrying up the stairs. As she reaches the surface, she announces, "I am the Great Witch Zingiber, Herald of Calamity."
Zingiber is a tan elven woman, barely a few centuries old, with fluffy red hair. She wears an extremely dark red cloak. Her ruby earrings are so large that the bend her long pointy ears (as they are hooked into the tips). She posed dramatically when she emerged and sneaks a look with one eye to see what reaction she garnered.
"By the Gods," says Zingiber, dropping the pose into one of exaggerated shock, "You're Dr. Ling, creator of Tendon Tearer! It's such an honour!"
L: It was a nice feeling being identified for magic for once. Wish it had been my food magic...
"Ripper, my rep precedes," says Ling, "Sorry 'bout ya're spell minefield, but I couldn't give ya a bell."
"Don't worry about that," says Zingiber. She turn around and waves for Ling to follow, "Come in, please." She giddily kicks about before squealing and charging in.
Into the darkness, Ling descends. Her orb's shine guides her until a distant glimmer sparks into view. This staircase must reach into the Underdank. If that's the case, then the sheriff was half-right.
The room at the bottom is bare, lit by the single smokeless torch hanging on the wall. A large metal door stands in the far wall inscribed with runes.
"Apple crumble and filch," says Zingiber to which the door opens. "Let me show you around."
The cavern was carved in an uneven yet cubic way, a chaotic and artificial mess. The dark stone lit by yet more smokeless torches and splattered with dried blood. An arrangement of mini mesas form a set of table and chairs with small cushions set upon them.
L: The room was a tripping hazard deathtrap. One wrong step and there's a pointy corner in your face.
"This is our main room- oh, I NEED to introduce you to the rest of the coven!" Zingiber turns down a corridor and yells, "Gudrun! You'll never guess who's here!"
"This better be good, or they better be dead," grumbles a distinctly dwarven voice from down the way.
Stepping into the room in an extremely dark green variant of Zingiber's witchy robe is a brooding pale middle-aged dwarven woman. Her hair, beard, and overdone eye shadow are as black as the stairwell Ling just crawled down. Both her long hair and beard run through simple sapphire bands.
"Why'd ya let a stranger into our lair?" asks Gudrun, "What part of secret is escaping yer erratic brain?"
"But this is Dr. Ling," whines Zingiber, "The genius that created all those body horror spells I've been practicing. She's my inspiration."
"So, ya're the lovely partner to this little psycho?" asks Ling, "Where's the third?"
L: Not a fan of being labeled a body horror wizard.
J: Then stop making new body horror spells.
L: Those are my "stop trying to kill me" spells; ya have to keep making new ones or your enemies will learn how to counter ya. Anyhow, I knew I had to distract these two to search the place.
"Elsewhere," says Gudrun, "How'd ya guess?"
"All covens have at least three witches," says Ling, "But I guess I can be your third 'til morning." Ling licks her eyeballs.
Zingiber squeals again, but Gudrun seems hesitant.
"One of my idols wants my body," she says to no one specifically. She swiftly spots Gudrun's face and falls to her knees before her. "Please, please, please, please-please, pleeeeeeeeease. We HAVE to."
Gudrun shakes her head, "We shouldn't. Not without her."
"Well, if she wants to be an equal part of this relationship then maybe she should be living with us instead of leaving us alone."
"Fair," says Gudrun, "Alright, lizard, hope ya're better than my ex-hub."
"I'll get the honey and the chaaaains!" says Zingiber darting off.
"Wait," says Ling, casting a spell on the elf. The confirmation sign appears over her head. "Carry on." She turns to the dwarf, "So, ya and this one, huh?"
"Ma always said not to stick yer tongue in crazy," says Gudrun, "But what Ma don't know won't kill her."
"Strewth."
Ling looks upon the runic circle and scans the area. As she expected, the big trap is filled with various smaller traps, some more cleverly hidden than others.
"Bl'ell," says Ling, "Only one way to deal with this."
Ling conjures a herd of false deer. She directs the biologically accurate meat puppets to charge through the field while she hides a magic shield-tree. The traps and curses detonate with explosions of various flavors of energy. Flaming chunks of meat fly into the air.
When the cacophony ends, Ling peers out onto a wizardly warzone. Stone and ice statues stand over struggling half-sunken beasts, all coated in viscera amid the burnt field and corrosive pools. Several deer suffer from various disfigurations: extra limbs and openings (like Ling's own spell "Unwanted Orifices"), inside out (Sir Kenra's "Bodily Inversion"), and a torrent of diseases - both natural and magical.
"Guess I have a fan," mutters Ling.
A: You created that spell? Wouldn't have expected you to craft such a horrifying transfiguration. L: It only lasts a few seconds. J: Enough time to cause mental damage, sensory discordance, and intense physical pain. L: Yeah, that's how suddenly gaining and losing fully functioning body parts works.
The meat and deer dissipate, causing the crumbling of the now hollow statues. Holes remain where they had been trapped.
Ling still keeps her attention focused for more hazards as she approaches the broken windmill, carefully stepping around the lingering hazards.
"What's this about witches?" asks Ling, "Got a lot of questions, really."
The svelte man stares at Ling, but she does not turn away. He does not blink, but she can't either.
"I'd rather not stare in a mirror all night, b*****d, says Ling, "Just write it down if you have to."
D: You weren't scared? L: Why would I? I've fought worse. Outsiders, ghost. His mindwarp aura was bodgie as sh-
The svelte man twitches and bends one arm the wrong way around to retrieve a set of parchments from his back. He awkwardly swings arm back around to present it to Ling.
L: Bloke just couldn't talk. Still don't know what he was.
The first crude drawing depicts three beings in pointy hats - one of whom is a furry creature of some kind- standing under a purple swirl that shines a light upon them. The second shows a goblin being lifted into the spiral. The third shows one of the pointy hats throwing a sword into a lake.
A: Ioana? L: Couldn't tell from his sucky drawing.
"Strewth, that's b****y clear," says Ling, "So what's your role, tall, dark, and spooky?"
The next picture is of the svelte man climbing/falling out of the spiral. Then one of several different small crying beings surrounded by eyes and teeth in the spiral. Finally, the svelte man being hit with beams from the pointy hats.
J: And you believed him? L: Enough to believe in witches.
"So, where are they?" asks Ling.
The svelte man twitches and jerks his body behind a tree.
"Ya could just draw me a f*****g map!" yells Ling as she scans the area for him. "Or just point!" She spots him leaning behind another. "Really going to make me chase ya?"
Ling follows the svelte man as he zigs and zags across the woods until he reaches a clearing with a small broken metal windmill barely standing in its center.
Ling detects the magic runes hidden in the dirt. This place is trapped to Hell and back. As the svelte man disappears again, the silence remains; nature itself is afraid of this place.
L: Laker and Faceboy could've been lying, but I'd only find the good oil probing these witches. J: And probe them, I'm sure you did.
L: What Ioana said was suspicious; so after she and Tanglepork fell asleep, I took a look 'round.
While setting off magic detection like a radar, Ling creeps through the house. She scrutinizes every trinket and trophy that crosses her sight. The house is too small to hide anything, but, alas, her search finds naught.
Stepping outside, the cold night air greets her bare head. It is an annoying reminder that she left it in the bedroom, too risky to fetch now.
Ling circles the cabin, checking the walls. However, the building is quite normal. While a part of Ling is relieved, another is frustrated. This dead end was a waste of the children's precious time.
Suddenly, the woods grew quiet. The wind stops, the bugs fall still. A presence, Ling feels; someone lurks amongst the trees.
"Yo," Ling calls out to the unknown. She quickly walks in its direction. "Wait, mate."
The presence does not wait.
When Ling reaches where she felt it, there is only a piece of parchment stuck to a tree. It says: Beware the Witches.
"What witches, mate?" asks Ling, "Gonna need a better b****y clue than that."
D: What are witches? J: It depends on the time. It was originally a political term used to oppress: an accusation of subservience to evil power. L: Then some claimed it as a rebellious term and some drongos thought 'evil power' sounded cool. A: And then evil powers thought more mortal servants sounded cool. J: Then other powers decided to do it too. L: So now it means a mortal who gets magic from some boss. J: Or feminist alchemists. A: Morality of any party involved: undefined. D: ...So, bad? L: Yes, this time bad.
Again, Ling could feel something deeper in the woods. She opens a door in space to its location.
The entity, a well-dressed, elvenoid over twice Ling's height with lanky limbs to match, stands hunched over affixing another paper to a tree. Its head twists around bearing Ling's own face.
"G'ev'ning," says Ling, "Nice to meet ya."
The shady little lady suddenly grew twice as large. Her outfit pulls apart as she returns to her natural size, exposing scaly limbs and belly. The dark cloak is barely a cape now. The gex licks her own eyes. "G'day, mate," she says, "This do?"
Dr. Ling puts her claw on the fake lycan, whose image fades away, leaving only a blonde gnome guardswoman behind.
"Sorry for wearing your daughter's face, Ma'am," says Tanglepork, "But we had to make sure the trail was safe."
"Why wouldn't it be?" Ioana squints her eyes.
"Chil-"
"Claims of a strange svelte man lurking out here," says Ling, "Leaving messages about."
"Oh, him," says Ioana, opening her door wide, thus allowing to see her fully. An elderly lycan, her fur is greying in numerous places. She is clad in a thick pastel floral-print nightgown. "Come in, dears."
They do.
The old cabin is decorated in many old furs, hunting trophies, and small bookcases. It is divided into three rooms a simple kitchen, a comfy bedroom, and the main room with a rocking chair and a stool by a fireplace.
The elderly lycan sits in the rocking chair as Ling closes the door behind her. "Come, sit," she says.
Tanglepork sits on the stool, while Ling manifests a bone chair.
"Now, what's this about that night creeper?" asks Ioana, "What has he done?"
"We're not certain yet," says Tanglepork, "But we suspect him of the kidnapping, or worse, of several children."
"Ya wouldn't have seen any kids of late, right?" asks Ling.
"No, only my little Loomy," says Ioana, rocking, "Last week exactly."
"How long has Note-boy been out here?" asks Ling.
"And what's he look like?" asks Tanglepork.
"Less than a week," says Ioana, "He's a tall elvenoid — twice an elf, in fact — in a fancy suit, like from the old cities, but his face: it's wrong." She rubs her paws on her face. "He looks like you- er, like whoever is looking at him."
Ling leans to the side and asks, "So ya've spoken to someone who's seen him too?"
Ioana face droops. "Y-yes, a few neighbors."
"Can you tell us where these neighbors live?" asks Tanglepork, "The woods are pre~tty~ big."
"Of course, I can, dears," says Ioana, eyeing them with a sigh, "But it's so lonely being so far out here. Could you stay a while longer?"
J: Mum, tell me you didn't. L: Does it really surprise ya...
The duo took a moment to admire the tranquil pond. The sun and clouds reflect clearly on the slow water.
"So, that's a 'no' on the silver?" asks Loomy to the pond.
"Doesn't matter," says Bacon, "We should keep on."
So they do.
"No idea what you're talking about," says Bacon, glancing about the forest, "What kind of forest is this anyway?"
"Uh, cedar, i think," says Loomy, looking about for what prompted that question, "What about it?"
"It's nice, isn't it?" asks Bacon, face still hidden, "Trees are nice; I need to spend more time with them My favorite is cherry. What's yours?"
A: I'm fond of the candelabra spurge. D: Palm trees are cool, too.
"I don't.. have one...?" says Loomy, "Who does? How old are you?"
"Are you really asking me that question?" Bacon's voice strains against an unwanted emotion.
The bugs chirping and birds calling echoed over the silent valley between them. It would be another half hour before either would speak again. There were no encounters, no odd sights, nor clues of any kind.
"How far away does this woman live?" asks Bacon, "We have to be close, right?"
"Yeah, right over this next hill," says Loomy, "Wish she lived closer."
As the two top the hill, Bacon sees the old cabin. And if the old woman who lives here doesn't know anything, then this, the only remaining straw to grasp, is a dead end.
J: Mum, we know this woman did something. L: But ya don't know exactly what yet.
Loomy knocks on the door and something inside shuffles, muffled within.
As the door creaks open, an elderly voice beyond calls out, "Is that you, dear Luminița?" An eye peeks through the slowly widening gap. "You look like Loomy," says the old wolf, "But you don't smell like Loomy."
"Your granddaughter couldn't make it this week," says not-Loomy, "I can explain if you let us in."
"Ya must be Ioana," says the mysterious person formerly known as Bacon, "Nice to meet ya."
"Who are you? Where is she?" asks Ioana, words sliding toward a growl "Take off that disguise."
"To what end are you traveling, Loomy and Bacon?" asks the radiant lady of the pond, looming above the water, staring down at them. The two speak over each other.
"Visiting my bunica," says Loomy.
"Searching for danger," says Bacon.
"Both of these things?" Ms. Aurocor tilts her head, "And nothing more?"
The duo look at each other for a moment, understanding the risky nature of their situation, then Loomy says, "Some kids are missing. Have you seen any come by?"
"No, I have not," says Ms. Aurocor, "But, alas, I have been here nary a week." She sits in midair, crossing her legs. "And of that time, my focus has been inward. Only these discarded blades have stolen my attention, cast into me by parties unknown."
"Can we see them?" asks Bacon.
"Verily," says the lady diving into the lake, "Mayhaps, you can identify their owners." She emerges four swords held awkwardly in her arms.
The iron sword is a straight short-sword with a typical elven hilt, somewhat fancy, but not overly so. This could belong to anyone who could afford a blade.
D: What's a short-sword? L: A big knife. A: Technically, not wrong. They're usually no longer than sixty centimeters and are built to be used with one hand.
The steel sword is a great-sword with a dwarven-style hilt, a weapon for a true warrior. Unfortunately, warriors are common to Rankedge, but someone who lost a blade this well-crafted would surely be searching for it.
D: What's a great-sword? L: Bigger sword. A: Unhelpful, but still not wrong. It'd would be longer than you are tall, Dalini.
Held carefully between the other weapons, so as to avoid direct contact with Ms. Aurocor, the silver sword is a horrifyingly serrated bastard-sword of crude goblin-make; more an instrument of torture than anything else. It is stained with hardened blood. The girls cannot identify its owner, nor would they care to meet them. Yet, still, this may prove useful.
D: What's a bastard-sword? L: It's a b*****d's sword. J: Mum, don't say that. L: What? This bloody bastard-sword belonged to a b****y b*****d. A: It's just a weapon of a very specific size; longer and heavier than one-handed weapons, but shorter and lighter than two-handers.
Finally, the gold sword is a not a sword at all. It is a wave-bladed dagger with an upturned spiked hilt. This weapon is easily recognizable.
A: Silver, I understand, but why gold? L: Gold's a good conductor. Mages are creative.
"That's the sheriff's Tei Zing dagger," says Bacon, "Who could have taken that?"
"Whose to say she didn't drop it?" asks Ms. Aurocor.
"No way the sheriff would've thrown his favorite weapon away," says Loomy.
"Oh, 'his'?" says the lady of the pond, "Then it can't have been; I've only heard two fellows around here. One I know is not your sheriff, and the other I should hope isn't."
"Who are these blokes?" asks Loomy.
"My friend has business around here; he's an educator, of sorts," says Ms. Aurocor, "The other is a svelte ne'er-do-'ell who comes forth, looming around at night. He leaves strange notes and letters on trees. Avoid him."
"Is he dangerous?" asks Bacon, "That sounds important."
"No, he's just... annoying," says the lady of the pond, she retreats, blade in tow, back into her aquatic home, "Good luck, honest travelers."
Adjusting the tie on her red hood, a young lycan, barely a gnome tall, looks down the trail into the woods. The birds are singing, bugs are buzzing, and sun shining through the canopy. She picks up her picnic basket.
"Do you really have to follow me?" she asks the dark-hooded figure behind her, "It's just my bunica's house; I go every week."
The masked figure nods. "It's not safe to go alone," she says.
"You're shorter than me," says the lycan, "I'll have to protect you if anything is actually out here."
"Not the poi~ent~," sings the masked figure.
"Don't do that." The lycan skips along the path and her shadow drags behind.
"Just keep your eyes open for any queer sights."
"Like a pond that wasn't there last week?"
"Right~io~," sings the shadow, "Wait, is that it?"
The two stop and cautiously approach the waterfront through the grass. Because of their tall boots, the two feel safe from ticks and other bugs.
The shadow skips a stone across the pond. "Seems like real water to me," she says, "But where's it from?"
"Oh, you two, right there," says a sweet voice from the lake, yet unimpeded by the water itself "You wouldn't have happened to drop a sword in here recently?"
"No?"
"Are you sure?" asks the voice, sounding closer to the girls, "There are a few down here; one is iron, one is steel, one is silver, and one is gold."
"Not ours, sorry," says the lycan.
"But the silver could be useful," says the shadow, "Can we borrow it? Just for today?"
A light shines from the lake as an elf-like woman emerges. Her skin shimmering silver, her hair gold. The water flowing around her as a shawl, barely concealing her dignity. She stares down at the children. She attempts to smile warmly to them, but it just creeps them out.
"Greetings, honest travelers," she says, extending out an open palm, "You may call me Argentalms Aurocor. May I have your names?"
"I'm using it," says the lycan, stepping back, "Sorry."
"Mine was a gift," says the shadow, stepping forward.
Ms. Aurocor rolls her beautiful pearlescent eyes. "Then what may I call you, travelers?"
"You can call us Loomy and Bacon," says the lycan, "It's nice to meet you, I guess."
"Really nice to meet you," says the shadow presumably called Bacon.
"I assume ya've checked with the few dwarves in town already?" asks Ling, pulling a pair of chairs out of the ground.
"Yeah," says Tanglepork, "None of them were hiring kobold kids for anything." She sits down. "So, it doesn't help."
"It does," says Ling, "At minimum, this dwarf comes near town every couple days. Likely lives nearby."
"That could still mean anything," says Tanglepork, annoyed, "Woodsman, hunter, bandit, merchant."
"So who'd hire a pair of schoolgirls?" asks Ling, "And for what?"
"Why are you so focused on this one?"
"If we know where this dwarf is, then we have a direction to start looking," says Ling, rubbing her temples, "Those two are the only clue ya've given me."
"We can't even confirm if this dwarf is real, Ling," says the deputy, shaking her head, "We've narrowed it down to only one possibility: the kids walked out of town. No magic residue, no un-alibi-ed adults, no signs of violence, nothing."
A: What's the point of this? If the wolf was killing kids, just say that. L: Who said she did? J: The story of us meeting on an eldritch cruise started with me doing a drug deal in the woods; give her a chance to set this up right.
"So why'ren't ya searching the bush then," asks Ling, "Why is the most secure exit being blamed? Something magical obvy happened to those kids, we just need to find where."
"We've already asked all of the parents," says Tanglepork as she sets her notes aside, "And none of the other kids are saying anything either. The only thing we could do is search blindly."
The two sit in silence for a moment.
"What if the culprit came to us?" asks Ling. As Tanglepork's eyebrow raises, Ling asks, "Any other kids leave town on the regular?"
"Tanglepork flips through her notes. "There's a little lycan who visits her grandmother every week," she says, "But we've told her parents not to let her while we're investigating."
J: Why would the sheriff bother if you're being blamed? L: Because if she went missing in the woods, that would mean... J: Understood, not the Underdank. Town would force the sheriff's hand. L: Town would've the sheriff's head.
"Does Nana Lycan know?"
"...no..."
"Then I've an idea."
Deputy Tanglepork steps inside, but hesitates. "Is that safe?" she asks of the glowing crystals lighting the room.
"Yeah," says Ling, "Ya want to stay outside?" Ling gestures and a bubble forms around the pair, both in and out of her house.
"What is this?" The deputy looks about in awe of the shimmering shield and the distorted view of the world outside.
"Privacy bubble: people can't see or hear through it."
"That sounds threatening," says Tanglepork, "And probably illegal."
"Not yet it isn't," says Ling, sticking her hand out and in the bubble, "But I get it. Fortunately, my own invention; haven't taught a soul." She returns her focus to the deputy. "Now, why ya here?"
J: She really called that one. L: Strewth, I'm impressed ya figured it out on your own.
"I need to know who's entered and exited the Underdank."
"I gave those file to the sheriff," says Ling, irritation rising in her voice, "I just said that."
"There are children missing, Ling," says Tanglepork, looking her dead in the eye. "The sheriff is blaming you."
"Sprogs on walkabout and that c**t's playing blamsies?" growls Ling, "What are your leads? Macca's way or Splish-Splash?"
"Can you... repeat that?" asks Tanglepork.
Ling takes a deep breath, "If the sheriff's not looking for the kids, then I will. So, what are your other leads? Could they have gone past Old McDonald's farm or Splish-Splash River? Whose tykes are missing, too?"
"You wanna help?" says Tanglepork, taking out a notepad, "Okay, yes, it's six kids, maybe seven."
"Maybe seven?"
"Sheriff's not counting Matches."
"Who's that?"
"Homeless orphan, lurked around the other side of town for about half a month. May be unrelated."
Ling sighs. "Next time ya know someone who might be starving, send them my way."
"Will do." The deputy begins reading her notes. "First, we have Hanzy and Grater, Toothfist's kids; last seen leaving school last week. Never made it home."
"Goblins," says Ling, "That's why it's taken this long to notice. Hanzy's the one with the weird spiky growths."
"Second, Graupel and Rosen Rotweiss, twin kobolds, allegedly assisting 'a dwarf' every couple days, disappeared earlier this week."
"Any I.D. on this 'dwarf'?"
"Not yet. Vague enough to be in any direction too... including the Underdank."
Ling shakes her head; it's not worth commenting on.
"Third, Gene Geneson Jr., parents claim he ran away a few days ago."
"Genette? Yeah, I can take a swing at why she'd do that."
Tanglepork checks her notes, "She?"
"Not your business," waves Ling, "Shouldn't have said it. Regardless, possibly our 'dwarf.'"
"Uh, finally, Loxi Goldberry, mayor's niece, went out looking for Gene yesterday."
J: Oh, Loxi... A: Who is she? J: Nothing, no one really. L: Jevoi's first crush. She was in tatters when Loxi and Genette started dating. J: I was not! D: I thought it was Gank. J: That is also false.
"There we go," says Ling, "The reason the sheriff's acting now. Have anything from the kids? Hair or nails?"
"I know what your thinking," says Tanglepork, pulling a pink hairbrush out of her bag; it is covered in blonde elven hair, "We already tried this."
"That's curious," says Ling, snatching the brush, "But let me try first."
Ling focuses on the girl's discarded hair and sends a pulse of magic through the world. There is no reaction from anything.
"Told you," says Tanglepork.
"This is a big clue," says Ling. Noticing the deputy's confusion, she continues, "If the location pulse isn't detecting her, it means something, or someone, is actively blocking it."
"Or she's not on this plane of reality."
"Both directions worth looking into," says Ling, handing the brush back, "Anything for the other kids, just to be certain?"
L: We checked; no signal for any of them, not even Matches.
L: Less than a year after the worm incident, I's in my lab working. Jevoi was off playing with Gank, when I had a visitor.
In the lab-cum-store sits twenty potted pepper plants across four tables with protective domes. Each table has the same arrangement of five different types pepper. Between each set, stands a different colored glowing crystal; between the tables, a cross wall containing safely coated lead plates.
Dr. Ling sits at her counter with a red pepper cut open on a tray, seeds carefully extracted in a pile. Her writing notes for each plant's current condition and exposure schedule next to it.
"After three weeks, the peppers appear to be unchanged externally under the red light," she mutters to herself, "But the seeds have grown in size. Taste testing will need to be redone."
She sighs, for she is unable to taste a difference in these supposedly hot peppers. The capsaicinoids have no effect on her, nor her current assistants, but to the mammals it was intended to repel, its flavor is valued highly. If the taste is too different, or worse, unpalatable, her work will never be accepted; it's already hard enough to assure most people that her food is safe. Sure, goblins will eat anything, but elves and dwarves? They have standards, traditions. No matter what affects she's had politically, she still had to fight for every plant, for every scrap of funding. Three steps forward, two steps back, until she dies. A never-ending-
The sudden rapping on her door awakens Ling from her thoughts. The stress is getting to her again. She walks to the door, preparing how she'll react. Is this for passage or medicine? 'Or maybe love?' hopes Ling. She opens the door slowly. "Who's it?"
Standing outside Ling's house is a uniformed gnome woman. The curly haired cutie is someone Ling vaguely recognizes, "Good eve~ning~, Dr. Ling," she says.
"Tanglepork?" Ling asks, "I already gave your boss my files. Did ya come just to come?" She licks one eye in her approximation of a wink.
"That's Deputy Tanglepork, now," says the gnome, gesturing to her badge. "I need to ask you a few questions; it's serious. May I?"
"Come on in, Porky," says Ling, "Need a break from plants."
Jevoi leans on the railing, looking out on the endless sea of stars. As much as she needs that tome, her mind keeps wandering off. That demon has crawled into her mind like a weevil. Yesterday keeps playing in her mind.
"You're trickier than I thought," says Tanglepork, her gun pressed to Jevoi's back. "Hiring staff to humiliate me, didn't see that coming."
G: Ya're welcome.
"You can clearly see, I-"
"Shut up," growls the sheriff, jabbing her hostage with the gun's barrel, "Where is it?"
"With a horny sea hag," says Jevoi, "That coven's probably used it all already."
"Stop ly~ing~," sings Tanglepork, "If you don't have it, you know what ha~ppens~."
"Diablo mio," a voice rings out; it belongs to Angustias, who is slithering down the dock. "What are you doing?"
"Arresting a criminal," says the sheriff, flashing her badge, "Stay~ back~, de~mon~."
Angustias glares at the gnome. If she's going to do anything, she has to take initiative. She subtly coils her body. As fast as she can, Angustias conjures her six swords and leaps toward the gnome, swinging wildly. One sword cleaves off the gnome's gun' barrel. Another, the hand holding it. One slices open the back. Another, the belly. One stabs a knee from behind. The last, up the butt.
A: A rather unsatisfying fight, I'll admit. After that- J: She died on the spot. L: Is that so? D: That's how the mean sheriff died?
Tanglepork's screams are trapped in the unseen bubble surrounding the trio. For all Jevoi's dismissiveness and daughterly angst, she has learned some of her mother's spells. The sheriff uses her remaining hand to try to hold her organs in as she collapses to the floor.
"A lizard who's a wizard?" Angustias less asks and more blurts in confusion.
"No," says Jevoi over Tanglepork's softening sobbing, "I'm ...an eldritch... trickster?"
"Still sounds like a nerd," says Angustias, reaching down into Tanglepork and pulls an organ up, still attached to a tangling mess of the sheriff's "pork", so to speak. "Let's play a game, the first of you two that identifies each organ gets a point."
"Kidney," says Jevoi.
"Correct," says Angustias, crushing it.
"That's not fair," whimpers Tanglepork.
Angustias drops the kidney and pulls up another. "Liver," Tanglepork tries to yell.
"Yes." Angustias sets it back in. As she does, she notices Tanglepork attempting to wiggle something out of her vest pocket. The demon stabs another sword into the gnome, this time, in her shoulder. "I know your kind's tricks." Angustias tries to pull something else out of the gnome, but it's small and buried. "What's this little thing?"
"An ovary?" asks Jevoi, glancing around nervously. "You should stop before we get caught. Just kill her already."
"Just one more," says Angustias, eyeing Jevoi with a mad fire in her eyes. "I'm finally getting why so many demons are into this." She pulls another organ up. "Besides, the gnome can't die from this."
"Please, don't crush my bladder," cries Tanglepork. She clinches her eyes and focuses on her magic. "Optica-"
Angustias punches Tanglepork in the jaw, the force cleaving the gnome's tongue off and shattering her teeth. "No spells!" She shoves the bladder back in.
Tanglepork attempts to speak, but the message is lost in the spray of blood.
Jevoi takes a step back. "I think your game's over, An-Angustias."
"Fine, it's a draw," whines Angustias, "Adios, p**a." She shoves the gnome's severed hand and gun into the open wound and flings her off the side of the ship.
Tanglepork slams into the magic sphere protecting the ship, her cracking against it, and slides down the side, leaving a bloody smear behind her.
Jevoi looks over the railing. "You really think she'll survive that?"
"Yeah," she says, "Gnome's can only die of boredom."
"That's not true," says Jevoi, turning toward Angustias, "That just how they die of age. They're still mortal. If you cut them, they still bleed."
"Oh," says the demon, now licking Tanglepork's fluids off the deck, "Eh."
Jevoi gawks at wild messy display and licks her own eyes.
A: Yes, she died immediately and we disposed of the body. J: Then we went back to Angustias' cabin. L: Yeah, here we go. J: Don't be weird, Mum. We just talked about- L: Then why ya telling me this? D: Did you ever get your book? J: Yes, after the cruise, we- L: One hook at a time. Next yarn: why I killed that old wolf. J: I suppose, you could entertain us over desert. Here comes the cake. D: Oooooooooooooooooooooo! Cake.
The pool of the ship is a happening place. The fake sun hanging like a disco ball shines loving warm rays all around. There are couples and crowds swimming, relaxing, and playing pool volleyball with a demilich sealed in a magic bubble. (She's loving it.)
Stretched out prone and naked in a beach chair is Luminița. The lycan drifts in and out of consciousness to the waves of the crowds' mirthful sounds. This bliss is interrupted by a shadow cast upon her.
"Take it," says Jevoi, dropping the bag by the side of Luminița's chair, "Where's my tome hidden?"
"What's your rush?" asks the lycan, her eyes refusing to open, "We'll do this after the cruise."
"Or we can do it now, while we're far from everyone."
"Nope, mourning," says Luminița, flipping onto her back, "My bunica was just sent to Hell."
"That's not my fault," says Jevoi, "And she was trying to kill us."
"Trying to kill you," says Luminița, eyes firmly shut, "Besides, you just want me to have the sheriff on my tail for the rest of the trip."
"No, I don't," says Jevoi, kneeling down closer to Luminița, "She has no reason to think you have it, she'll keep chasing me."
"Oi, Ling," yells a withered voice from the pool, startling Jevoi back up, "Fancy seein' you's 'ere."
Jevoi turns toward the disruptor: a decrepit old sea hag with wet leathery skin and in a tiny black bikini. "You're mistaken, miss, but you're not the first."
L: Salica, maybe? J: How am I supposed to know? L: She'd have been like forty; that's not old. J: She didn't look forty; she looked eighty.
"Really?" The hag crawls out of the pool, her seaweed hair dragging limply. "You look just like 'er." She slithers along the ground, limbs desperately trying to lift her water-logged body; her long claws scrapping as her hands search for footing. "You sound just like 'er." Her neck cracks as she twists her head to better look at the gex. Her smile is marred with broken teeth. "You smell just like 'er."
"Not willingly, I assure you." Jevoi steps back, scratching he wig. She looks about and spots, out into the pool, the volleyball game which has seemingly paused. "I think your coven's waiting for you. Shouldn't keep them waiting."
The hag jerks her head around to look, then she swings back. "They'll be- huh?" Jevoi is already gone.
Jevoi awakens slowly. Her body greatly resists separation from the bed, adhering itself to it like honey. With considerable effort, she rises.
The cabin's shower is pleasant and its water warm. As she cleans her scales, Gank keeps watch on the cabin. The ship's distractions may not avail the lawgnome's thievish intent.
There had been no disturbances during the night, or whatever could be considered night in space. Does time even flow here in this outer void?
'She's here,' thinks Gank, 'Keep the water on.'
Jevoi slips silently back into the cabin's other room. Despite the door out still being shut, Jevoi can clearly see the gnome searching her things. Naked, but armed, Jevoi sneaks closer.
Tanglepork suddenly turns around, gun drawn. "Walked right into this, Kiddo," she says, "Where's it at?"
"Where's what?" asks Jevoi.
"Don't be coy~, Jevoi~," sings Tanglepork, "The faeriedust: where is it?"
"You think I'm some addict?" snarls Jevoi, still dripping wet, "Why would I have that?"
"You make it?" Tanglepork's voice carries sarcastic confusion. "I'm the one keeping my overzealous deputies from undoing your mommy."
"Cretin," yells Jevoi, "You have done my mum!"
"Every woman in town has done your mommy," Tanglepork rolls her pretty little eyes, "Regardless, you need to pay your taxes~."
"I'm not bribing you," says Jevoi, "How did you even get in here?"
L: I wish.
A: She doesn't pay taxes?
J: That's not- can we focus here?
"I asked Lurentooz for the key." Tanglepork holds up a purple tendril-esque key; it squirms in her hand. "Even out here, the law is abided."
The two continue to stare into the vast cosmic tapestry above them.
"I'd have thought a mortal would have seen this before," says Angustias.
Jevoi shakes her head. "We don't have stars down under."
"Aren't you from the Sesbia Archipelago?" Angustias tilted her head to the side.
"No, Inner Glow," says Jevoi, "My nana is from Sesbia, but I hatched in a crappy goblin town called Rankedge." She suddenly looks about nervously. "Eh, where are you from?"
"Brutalidad, Sathanica," says Angustias, "It's a city in Hell." She looks down to the stars below. "More like a big fort, honestly. Completely underground too, obviously."
L: Right, at the edge of the eternal war? A: The very same.
"What brought you here?" asks Jevoi, "I'm here from fighting a ghost."
"My cousin-" Angustias tries to say, but is cut off by the sudden intrusion of Luminița, and a spider crab making out, blindly throwing themselves through a nearby door.
L: Tell me more.
"Let's find somewhere else," says Jevoi, annoyed. She opens another door in. "Is this cor-"
Lurentooz has Tanglepork's head lodged into her mouth. The sheriff's body, half-undresses, twitches and kicks. Magic shifts between the duo. Lurnetooz eyes release purple sparks before her pupils break through, staring at the intruder. She attempts to speak, lifting her arm defensively. "Ah kahn ehkslayn."
"Don't bother." Jevoi shuts the door. She turns around, but Angustias has left. Dejected, Jevoi returns to her room to sleep; her knife not far from her hand.
D: You just left her? A: There's more to the story. Hold on.
"G'day," says Jevoi, "Is this- this seat taken?"
The marilith looks at the mortal, but only briefly. She rolls her eyes and continues staring at her food, strange purple meat. "Sure, whatever," she says, "Pretty gutsy walking up to a demon."
D: So what did you talk about? J: Philosophy. L: What kind? J: That's not important.
Jevoi sits down with her drink in hand. "Well, I mean," she struggles to say, "Who says demons have to be bad?"
"The gods?" says the baffled mailith. She stabs the meat; it oozes in response.
"Not really a fan of them anyway," shrugs Jevoi, "Seems like there's a lot of problems they're choosing not to solve."
The marilith looks up, bemused. "And how'd you fix them?"
"My mum always said that we have to keep working to override the people seeking to make everything worse."
"You believe that?" The marilith twirls her fork. "Just try harder?"
"No," says Jevoi, "If there are people dragging us backward, then logically the best thing we can do is get rid of them."
"Get rid of them... how?" asks the marilith. Her gaze intensifying.
"Kill them," says Jevoi blunt, swift, and cold, staring into the marilith's eyes.
A: That look in your eyes that day. I still remember it. L: So ya let her into your cabin then? Eh? Eh? J: Mum, no!
Looking into those eyes, it is as if the whole room has gone silent. The marilith had never had a mortal look at her this way before. She laughs, and says, "Want to walk with me? Name's Angustias, by the way."
"You can call me Jay," says Jevoi, sipping her drink.
"Afraid to tell a demon your name?" asks Angustias, coyly leading Jevoi out the door.
"You're not the first demon I've met," says Jevoi, following coolly.
A: You were trying so hard to be an aloof rogue. J: And you were trying to be seductive. A: I was succeeding.
The duo step out onto the deck and looking out of the bubble surrounding the ship. The stars and galaxies sparkle and shine in the great dark void.
D: Stars? L: Distant lights in the surface world's sky. J: Magnificent beacons of power that fill the cosmos. A: They're really not that special, just plasma.
The pair lean on the railing, neither sure what to say, and so, they linger in silence. A good silence, to be fair.
"How are we on your list?" ask Luminița, "We fell from-" She looks up to the completely normal ceiling. She sputters in confusion.
Lurentooz smiles, as best as a cluster of tendrils posing can be considered to be. "Let me show you to your rooms."
In spite of being a trans-dimensional vessel, the Love Craft looks very much like an extravagant sea vessel. The fancy wood is clearly of alien origin, but still distinctly wood. The other main material is mysterious; it is as a hard white liquid, but neither earthen nor organic. Most of the vessel's exterior is made of this unnatural substance.
The trio has little chance to protest as they are led to their cabins and advised as to the hot mingling spots.
J: As tired as I was, I was not climbing into a strange bed in a strange world.
Feeling peckish, Jevoi makes her way to the dining hall. A veritable menagerie of beings sit at dozens of white-clothed tables. Merry feasting and conversations fill the room. The banter is incomprehensible to the gex for it largely is in languages she cannot speak.
Alone with her thoughts, a marilith in a sleeveless green dress sits picking at a piece of meat. Jevoi takes care not to stare as she crosses the room to the bar.
The bartender, a floating multieyed spherical creature, greets her with a smile. His ID labels him Yyzax.
"What can I getcha?" he asks, his central eye staying focused on her, while his eye stalks continue to observe the room.
In spite of (or perhaps, because of) her mother, Jevoi struggles to answer the question. "Something ...buggy?" she spits out.
As Yyzax mixes a drink with his eye beams, he says, "Saw you eyeing that lonely lady."
"Yeah?" says Jevoi defensively, "Is there a problem?"
"Nah," says Yyzax, sliding a cockroach cocktail to Jevoi, "Just saying what I'm seeing." His smile says a lot.
Jevoi takes the drink and then takes a drink. Its meat gives her a slight buzzing feeling. She looks at the demon again, a titanic woman. She's going to do it. She's going to talk to her. Just as soon as she can remember how.
Once again, the trio fell into a hole and, once again, they slammed into the ground one on top of the other: Tanglepork, Jevoi, and finally Luminița. The time, though, the floor is a hard wood.
"Get off," says Jevoi, pushing Luminița, "How did you end up on top again?"
"Why did you do that?" asks Luminița, climbing off of the gex, "You were safe. Why try to save me?"
"Don't get weird." Jevoi stands up. "I was only trying to save your hot a**e because you have my tome."
"What."
J: That is not what I said. G: That is exactly what you said.
"My book!" yells Jevoi, panic in her voice, "You have my book. Where is it?"
J: I was not panicking.
"...Back at the house," answers Luminița hesitantly.
"Excuse me," asks an until-now unnoticed woman a meter away, "Are you together?"
The duo finally pause long enough to take in their surroundings. They are in a boarding lounge of a large fancy vessel, polished clean and charmingly decorated. Standing here, in a sailor-esque suit, is a purple-skinned, tentacle-mawed biped holding a clipboard. She patiently awaits a response.
"Are we in Hell?" asks Luminița.
"Help me," mutters Tanglepork.
The woman raises a facial tendril in confusion. "No? What ever gave you that idea? You're aboard the finest interplanar cruise ship in the universe, a dream vessel of romance: the Love Craft. We'll soon be making another run, setting course for adventure." She takes a little bow. "I'm Lurentooz, your cruise director."
"That's... nice," says Jevoi, "How do we get back to Inner Glow?"
"We'll be stopping there in a few days," says Lurentooz, checking her board, "Kun, is it? We've been expecting you." Her eyes flash in realization. "Ling's daughter?"
"Of course..."
The skeletal remains whirl through the air. Jevoi covers her head with her arms and tries to keep running straight, Tanglepork attempts to evade by zigzaging, and Luminița attempts to swat the flying bones out of the air.
Gank emerges from the ground and slides back into Jevoi. 'Turn around,' she thinks, 'We have to keep her in place.'
'What are we doing?' asks Jevoi, skittering to a stop, 'What's the rest of the plan?'
'Run at her,' thinks Gank, 'Don't stop.'
With a frustrated groan, Jevoi abouts-face. 'Better be a good plan.'
Tanglepork runs past her without a word, but a look that says, 'You're gonna do something stupid, ain't ya?'
'We're sending Grammy back to Hell,' thinks Gank, bringing a subdue soulsight back into Jevoi's eyes, 'When you've got her in the circle, slap that b***h!'
Jevoi can now see Ioana's silhouette in the dust storm and the runes glowing inside the ground, now several meters behind the lycan. "Alright, you old biddy," yells Jevoi, running around along the storm's spin, "You want Ling? Well, I'm at least half Ling."
Ioana howls again. "LING! VENGEANCE!" She twists to pursue Jevoi.
D: Did she anything else? G: Most ghosts form from one extreme desire; they're actually really boring people. D: What was your desire? G: I guess, not die? I'm a special case.
Jevoi stops at the edge of the runic circle and turns toward the storm. She spreads her arms apart, low. "Come on, you broken clock."
The storm escalates in intensity and speed.
Jevoi holds her ground as Ioana approaches, Tanglepork and Luminița far away in the dark, then just as the ghost hovers inside the circle, she slaps it. "Go to Hell, fur-hag!"
The magic of the runes opens a gate under the ghost and forms a barrier around Jevoi. The gate begins sucking with far greater force than Ioana's storms, pulling her in. So too are the bones dropped like water in a drain. But the gate doesn't close; it keeps sucking. Tanglepork and Luminița are pulled into it.
Luminița digs her claws into the ground, clutching desperately to survive. Tanglepork snags the lycan's leg; her screams inaudible over the rushing wind.
Jevoi hops out of the bubble protecting her and grabs Luminița's arm.
'What are ya doing?' thinks Gank.
'She has my tome,' thinks Jevoi, 'The whole reason we're here!"
"I've got you," Jevoi attempts to say, but her voice is sucked away by the wind. Jevoi, unfortunately, would not be strong enough to lift Luminița in normal conditions, nor combat the vortex, so attempting both only has one reasonable outcome: down the drain.
The whirling dust around Ioana approaches Jevoi and Tanglepork. "I shall have vengeance!" howls the glowing counter-silhouette.
Jevoi takes off running. "Tell you what," she says, "After you kill her, I can take to my mum; you can kill her too."
L: Love ya, too.
"Don't leave me here!" yells Tanglepork, scrambling to her feet. "Give me my gun back!"
"Why would I ever?" yells Jevoi, trying to figure out the mechanisms of the gun. The odd rotating piece in the center confuses her. It would be easier for her to study it, if she weren't running toward darkness.
"Don't come at me!" Luminița yells at the other women, "I'm not involved in this!"
"AND I AM?" yells Jevoi, running with Tanglepork and Ioana hot behind her, "I don't even know this woman!"
"I'm going to rip you limb from limb, Ling!" yells Ioana. The light emanating off of her continues offer a view of what the mortals begin realizing may be an infinite plane.
"Love the enthusiasm, Madam!" says Jevoi, "Wrong target!" Jevoi thinks, 'Gank, do something, please!'
'Like what?' asks Gank in Jevoi's brain, 'Ya want me to fight her?'
'You're the only one who can,' thinks Jevoi.
'I have an idea,' thinks Gank, 'Keep her distracted.' She sinks into the ground, invisible.
"Just shoot her," yells Luminița, running further ahead.
"She's a ghost, you drongo!" yells Jevoi.
"Not my bunica, idiot!" the lycan yells back, "Tanglepork!"
Jevoi aims the gun backward and pulls the trigger, but the weapon does not fire. It doesn't even CLICK.
Tanglepork laughs and throws a bone off the floor. It hits the gun causing Jevoi to drop it. She scoops it up as the gun and pulls the hammer back. She eyes Jevoi and rubs her hand along the barrel; sparkles enter the weapon. She puts both hands on the grip, turns toward the advancing dust-storm (while running backward now), and fires a glowing shot into it. A silvery explosion distorts the cyclone.
"That's how you do it, kiddo!" laughs Tanglepork, turning away.
Ioana howls in shock and the bones on the floor rattle. They rattle and shake and bounce into the air. Each begins flying in the direction of the closest mortal.
"Mamaia!" yells Luminița, "How did you screw that up, Jevoi?
L: How did ya screw that up?
"What did you just say?" asks Jevoi, "Then where are we?"
"Take a look, Ling," says an old woman, her voicing echoing from nowhere.
With a flash, the area is bathed in green light. This allows Tanglepork and Luminița to finally see, but blinds Jevoi temporarily.
"F*****g b*****d c**t," swears Jevoi, "Why the b****y g******n hell?" She rapidly licks her eyes and Gank rescinds her soulsight.
D: Does that mean you're going to say what Tanglepork and Loomy looked like now? J: Oh right, yes.
Tanglepork is a small gnome woman with curly blonde hair and rosy cheeks. She's wearing cute pink gloves and pointed boots, a leather vest over a mustard shirt, a loosely strapped stetson, and a matching skirt over leggings. She is currently lying on the floor looking up at the source of light.
Lumița is a large lycan woman with thick brown fur with a blue patch around her left eye. She's still wearing her red cloak. Underneath it, she is wearing a dark corset with a long skirt. She is now several meters away from Jevoi.
The light spreads out roughly nine meters and faintly another nine from a point slightly in the air, highlighting the crude stonework. As Luminița had called out, the skeletal remains of several small humanoids are scattered across the floor.
The source of the light, and the voice, is a ghastly, green lycan. Her eyes are empty and her teeth are sharp.
J: I'd rather not repeat what she said next. I didn't need to hear it myself. L: I reckon I know.
"What language," says the ghost, "To think I let that foul tongue inside me."
Jevoi gags.
"Mamaia?" ask Lumița, "What's going on?"
"Traitor," snarls the ghost, "You side with my killers? This lecherous lizard and the conniving d***f?"
"Hiiiiii, Ioana," says Tanglepork, feigning happiness, "So glad you remember me. Yay."
L: I can explain this, but ya finish this first.
"I don't know you, lady," says Jevoi, "I'm not Ling. I can send the message."
Ioana howls, "You are the only of your kind!" The wind begins to whirl dust about. "I'd recognize that filthy wig anywhere."
"Great," mutters Jevoi, "Mum doesn't even have to be near me to keep ruining my life."