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|A rather amusing story with not much description but interesting characters. I like it...there may be more if I get feedback...=]||
Talla Ruthe stood confidently before the trolls, staff ready and held slightly forward. Ildanto Tressari hung back, bow drawn as the elf watched their foe keenly. Drekkis Il’ Tados withdrew his massive battle axe and began a slow advance on the trolls while Sheiva Kentaro marched beside him with a hideously hooked saber.
"Don’t think you scare us, humans," a troll shaman grinned.
"Elves…are not humans…" Ildanto hissed.
"Humans and Elves, it matters not. Your death will come soon. We will feast on your meat tonight," he laughed.
"We have other plans," a tree said. Or rather, a voice from a tree said, and an arrow flew from within the leafy cover to split the shaman’s skull.
The trolls charged.
"Looks like an even fight!" Sheiva chuckled darkly, "In numbers, that is…"
"Yeah," Drekkis agreed, "Too bad we can’t find a challenge."
A troll fell to Drekkis’ axe, skull smashed. Sheiva stabbed her saber through one’s gut, and it screamed, spurting blood from its mouth. Talla Ruthe’s staff whirled, knocking any troll who neared her a good five feet, with cracked ribs or arms. Ildanto’s bow twanged, picking off trolls one by one, as did the tree.
"Will you guys quit taking battles as jokes?" Talla complained.
"No way! It’s too much fun!" Drekkis cried.
Talla sighed. A rather large troll stepped close to her, sword coming towards her head. She altered her staff’s course, deflected the blow, and leaped back, flipping over her staff and landing in a crouch. The troll advanced, and Talla drew a dagger, and without a moment’s delay, the knife was in the troll’s throat.
Sheiva’s saber blurred as she cut swiftly, lopping off arms, legs, and heads with equal ease. Her loose Ramara blouse was spattered with blood, as was her Amborian leather breeches. She screamed savagely as she fought, and her eyes were bloodshot.
Drekkis merely butchered a wide path through the trolls, using quick overhand swings of his axe to rid the way of obstacles. When he reached the end, he turned around and butchered his way back. After the second time, he noticed that the trolls were dead.
"Too easy," Sheiva gasped.
Drekkis nodded. Eria Mirade, the unseen archer joined them, dropping from the tree. Sheiva wiped her blade on a fallen troll’s shirt, as did Drekkis. Talla retrieved her knife, and did the same.
"Holy, Sheiva! You look like you’ve been through a slaughterhouse!" Drekkis grinned.
"I have," she replied, also grinning.
Talla rolled her eyes. She wore a forest green tunic, and some brown breeches. She was about medium height, with brown eyes and hair. She had black leather boots and gloves, and a pale blue cloak. She was serious, by nature, and did not have a great sense of humor.
"Still," Drekkis said, "You’ll have to wash that blouse at least, and maybe the pants too. Next time try to be a little less bloodthirsty, okay? Just so Talla won’t burst a vein," he added with a smirk.
Sheiva looked critically at the whitish-yellow blouse. It was smeared everywhere with streaks of blood; you could hardly tell whether it was a red blouse with white paint smeared on or a whitish-yellow blouse with blood smeared on. Her pants were also splattered with blood, but since they were brown, it wasn’t as noticeable.
"I guess so..." she resigned, "Or maybe, I could just keep it like this..."
Talla gave her a hard look.
Sheiva strutted off towards the stream.
"Shall we make camp here?" Drekkis asked.
Talla shrugged. "I guess here’s as good as anywhere," she said.
Eria set down her pack and unfastened her green cloak. She was dressed completely in green; she had a tight green tunic, green breeches, green boots and gloves, and her face was even painted green.
"I ought to go wash off this paint," she thought aloud.
"That would be a good idea," Ildanto agreed.
Eria turned and walked gracefully after Sheiva. Ildanto sighed. Talla and Drekkis began setting up a tent. Eventually, Ildanto joined Talla and Drekkis, and before long, the tent was up, and they had a fire going outside.
Sheiva scrubbed at the persistent stain. The stain stared back. She scrubbed some more. The stain stared back. She bashed the stain with some rocks. The stain stared back. She drew her nasty hooked saber. The stain looked afraid.
"Sheiva! What are you doing?" Eria called.
Sheiva, realizing that she was about to kill the vile stain, quickly sheathed her blade and began scrubbing again.
"This damned spot won’t come off," she muttered.
"There’s no trolls?"
"There’s no trolls?"
"Why would there be trolls?"
"You had your saber out…"
Eria shrugged, pulled out a cloth from her pack, and began to wipe the paint off her face. Sheiva stared in frustration at the big red stain on her blouse.
Eria’s face was not stained. Sheiva’s blouse was stained. Eria was not mad. Sheiva was mad. Sheiva decided that the blouse could do with a big hole in it. Eria saw Sheiva grab her saber, and looked around hurriedly. Seeing no enemies, she turned to Sheiva.
"What are you doing with the saber?"
"Oh..." Sheiva said. She sheathed the saber and continued to glare at the evil stain. Her palms became white as they gripped the blouse, and her eyes nearly popped with frustration. Finally, she put the blouse on, spot or not.
"You’re wearing that, even with the stain?" Eria asked.
Sheiva glared back. "With my luck, I’ll probably be stuck with a big red stain across my butt too," she moaned cynically, undoing her leather belt.
"Three of hearts," Drekkis murmured, throwing in his card.
"Two of spades…" Talla spat.
"Two of spades, also…" Ildanto stated.
"No, no, no! That’s a two of clubs, you lunkhead! And since they’re both twos, I win!" Drekkis cried triumphantly.
"Now do you see? War with cards can be fun," Talla prodded Drekkis.
"Yeah, I guess…nothing compared to the adrenaline rush of real war though," he exclaimed.
Talla sighed for the seven hundredth time that evening.
"But real war isn’t supposed to be fun!" she insisted.
"That’s what you say," Drekkis chuckled.
Talla sighed for the seven hundred and first time that evening. She rose, and began to pace around the campfire. The flames leaped high, casting an orange glow over the campsite. The sun was just setting behind the hills to the west, adding another shade to the orange.
Sheiva stormed into camp, followed by the elven girl Eria. Sheiva’s whitish-yellow blouse had a big red bloodstain on the stomach. The brown pants were clean.
"Sheiva, you didn’t finish cleaning your blouse," Drekkis observed.
She gave him a dark look.
"It looks like you’ve been shot in the stomach or something," Ildanto smiled, trying to hold back a laugh.
Sheiva’s look became a whole lot darker.
"Look, you all! Leave her alone! She’s had enough…" Talla said, then turned towards Sheiva and burst out laughing. The others did too, even Eria. They laughed long and hard until Sheiva stalked back to the stream.
She scrubbed. The stain stared back. She drew her sword. The stain stared back. She ‘edited’ the blouse. The stain stared back…from where it was being carried downstream. Sheiva pulled on the blouse with a hole in the stomach.
The blouse, however, was awkward. Sheiva ‘edited’ it some more. The entire lower part was gone. The blouse lay loosely over her, exposing her midriff. Unfortunately, the blouse could no longer be tucked into her belt. Sheiva sighed mournfully.
"The only way I could fix this blouse is with a spell," she thought aloud.
"What was that, my dear?"
"I was just saying that the only way I could…wait a minute…who…?"
Sheiva spun to find herself looking at a little four-inch man who was sitting casually on top of a stump. He looked her up and down, and nodded to himself.
"Nice blouse," he commented.
She blushed furiously.
"I suppose I can fix it…on one condition."
"What condition is that?"
"I want to come with you."
"I’ve always been bored with my life…I’m looking for a bit of excitement."
"Well, that’s fine with me, so if you’ll just fix this blouse…"
With a puff of smoke, the blouse was no longer there.
Sheiva drew a dagger, and placed it at the little man’s throat.
"Is this your idea of a joke, little man?" she hissed.
"No, no of course not! I just needed it to work with!" he cried, holding up a miniature version of her ‘edited’ blouse.
She thought about it for a moment and decided to let him work. So he pulled a tiny needle and spool of thread and began to fix the blouse. He closed off the bottom, so that it sat snugly around her, and then added tie strings on the back. Then, with another poof of smoke, the no-longer-a-blouse-and-now-a-halter-top was on Sheiva. She found that it fit pleasingly, and being pleased with this, she decided to let the four-inch man sit on her shoulder for the walk back.
"So," Sheiva began, "Who and what are you , exactly?"
"I am Rxtlysta, a fairy."
"No, no, no. Rxtlysta."
"That’s hard to pronounce. How about I just call you Rex?"
"Well, okay…I guess that will suffice."
A few minutes later, a Sheiva with drastically different clothing and a fairy sitting on her shoulder walked into camp. The others all sat up startled, and after enjoying their reactions for a moment, Sheiva told them about Rex.
Oh dear...You expected more? Well, I should have told you that this is just part one, then, shouldn’t I have? Oh well...
|Arthallin Majeste - Part 2||Arthallin Majeste|
|Turns in the Road (Book1)||Whither Do The Heroes Go?|
|The Merchant Skit||Final Vengeance|