Everyone's watching. I can't afford to lose.
I can't afford to even think of defeat.
But I'm down three pieces and can't do shit...
Ugh. My head hurts
Fuck it. Winners don't leave anything to chance.
I closed my eyes and took a breath. After years of practice, channeling mana was instinctive. It was not the incredible sensation of energy flowing through my body that I'd heard others describe. Instead, it felt like contracting a fine muscle that I could neither see nor touch, only feel. Instantly, the world was clearer, my thoughts faster, and I knew just what to do. A dozen moves later, it was over.
"Checkmate, bitch" I grinned triumphantly, sipping my tankard of beer. The low hum of the tavern instantly rose in crescendo until it erupted into a chorus of cheers. The spectators milling around gathered even closer, and I lost count of the number of people who slapped me on the back, crossed wrists, and nodded in congratulations. An exuberant dwarf jumped on our table and roared madly ", raising his tankard high. I joined him, glad that I would not lose my gold coin -the entirety of my fortune tonight. The more observant spectators smiled knowingly, but congratulated me anyway. It baffled me how many people wanted to knock this guy down a peg. Across from me, my best friend scowled at the rabble, his elven ears ever so slightly drooping in disappointment.
"Fuck you" he spat, handing over a pouch of coins significantly heavier than mine on my side of the table.
"Sore loser. "
"I know you cheated asshole."
"Prove it."
"Zina!" I hollered, giving her a smug grin. "Two dishes of beef stew. I'm feeling generous." I turned to my vanquished foe and noticed his hands on his wavy brown hair, while his emerald green eyes flickered in disappointment.
I turned to him, now confused."Long-ears, why are you upset? You're rich."
He frowned."I hate losing. I hate not knowing stuff even more. What I hate most is when I don't know why I lost, you cheater!"
I had to cheat to best you when you while drunk so...
Life is good, I thought, grinning as I sat on a wine barrel in the tavern's corner, nursing my beer tankard and idly watching the other forty-some patrons of at least a dozen races. The Northern continent was silently enduring the onslaught of the Evernight and would not see sunrise for another few months. But that only made people gather around the tavern more often, made every fire feel warmer and brighter, and made people's skin glow by its light. I chuckled as the dwarven group at a few tables hollered a song off-key.
The money here at the Outpost was good, my belly was about to be filled, and there was booze for days. Across from me, Aryn's face lit up as the owner approached our table with our orders. She was a Trivella, giving her otherwise pale skin an intricate blue marble pattern that glowed by the hearth's light. He shamelessly admired her slightly pointed ears, her cute, pointy, somewhat upturned nose, her wavy brown hair that came up to her waist, each strand a bit thicker than a human's, and her yellow pupils. I broke into a grin. She smiled sweetly at me as she approached our table.
Yep, life is perfect.
"That will be 18 copper marks in total," she said, smiling sweetly while touching Aryn's shoulder in sympathy.
This woman made my heart skip a beat for the second time today. "Zina, I thought we were friends. I come here every day," I pleaded. She rolled her eyes. "As do all the others. This is the only tavern out here," she chuckled, smiling wider, revealing a glimpse of her sharp fangs. "And you ordered beef, of all things, which does not grow out here," she said, pointing to the steaming plates she had set on our table.
Humans might be the only creatures that show their fangs when they jest —others 'smile' only when they find prey.
For a moment, I briefly considered leaving without paying. No one here would be able to stop me. Then again, I didn't want to be banned from the only tavern in this desolate place, so I sighed, fished out several copper weights from the pouch on the table, and handed them to her. She accepted the payment with a nod, closed her eyes, and balanced the weights in her arms, using her keen Trivellan senses to determine if I had cheated her. I scowled.
She looked back up at me with another bloodthirsty smile. "I will be ready to cook beef for you whenever you miss the taste of home." She bowed slightly before leaving.
I hate this place.
Storms! There was one tavern, one decent blacksmith, and one wizard in this stupid forest. And while my fellow mercenaries and I in the tavern have made much more than we ever hoped out here, for every sellsword in this tavern, five more had died crossing the Egan straits to get here. Luckily, there weren't any disputes over land or resources here, because anyone smart enough to make it this far North would not stupidly fight for a bigger patch of snow, but being a mercenary was still a perilous job. Only for these bloodsuckers to stay in the comfort of the Outpost and bleed us dry. I thought bitterly
Another night of not getting laid. I was quite sought after in my youth. When did it all go wrong? I thought, stroking my beard, which had begun sporting a few gray strands. I have just the one small scar over my cheek, a gorgeous silver tooth, and I have not gotten any less handsome since I was twenty... twenty years ago.
A cursory glance at Aryn, who was sullenly picking at his food, gave me a clue as to why. In the time it took for me to finish my food, Aryn had already found a cute catkin to keep him company. And who could blame her? He had looks, money, and was the only wizard in town. Ah, I see, old friend, it was your fault, I thought bitterly. I returned to my drink and swore to sit at a different table the next time I came here.
The tavern door swung open, and he gazed at the door, studying the new arrival, while fondling his new companion. The stranger had small horns, but that trait could come from at least a dozen races. Although the stranger's hood was pulled over their head and their long flowing robe that covered their feet, with sweeping wide sleeves that hid their arms, a few glances revealed that the stranger was likely a well-endowed woman. The number of bizarre races I'd seen and brief brushes with death I'd had over the years kept me from jumping to conclusions. They looked around curiously, clearly visiting the tavern for the first time. The other patrons in the tavern quieted down a bit, trying to make something of the new arrival. They glanced in our direction, looking at the menu on the piece of wood hammered on the wall behind him. Seemingly realizing they still had their hood on, they pulled it off.
Laiyrra! She's beautiful.
A prominent gold-embroidered sigil on the front adorned her robe, which covered her feet. A few dainty, slender fingers peeked from the gold embroidered cuffs. Her head was covered with a scarf of some sort, but the few strands that peeked out were brown and slowly turned to bright red as they reached the tip. Her eyes reminded me of fire. The pupils were bright red at the center and blended into a bright yellow hue at the edges. The only thing seemingly out of place was the large wooden box strapped to her back. She paused and hummed to herself, seemingly distracted.
The other patrons seemed to notice the sigil on her attire, and at once, all the tavern patrons leaped to their feet and shouted, "We greet the Priestess!" Of what Order? I thought. Any Order bold enough to send a pretty lady like that to a place like this would be very powerful. But a glance at my best friend, who was arguably the smartest guy I know, revealed his puzzlement at her origins.
Her crisp, commanding voice broke the silence. "I acknowledge your greetings. Carry on as before."
The perfect customer! I thought excitedly. The sigil on her robe and her literacy proved that she was from some order of priestesses, even and even rarer one that did not proselytize with every sentence. And churches were always loaded. The contents of the wooden box were irrelevant; after all, my job is to guard things too valuable to leave to the mercy of the waves till the L'aiyrra, and their sleds, wolves, and bears would carry them across the Northern continent. My heart leapt for joy for the third time tonight when she began walking over to our table. Aryn whispered in his companion's ear, "Aina, I'll see you later, I have to take care of business." She nodded and left, bowing slightly to the priestess as she passed.
However, nothing prepared us for when she arrived at our table, looked at us right in the eye with those fiery eyes, and asked the impossible.
"Take me to L'aiyrra."