| In the dark places of the world, where creatures of the night roam free and terrorize the innocent, there exist the most curious beings known as ‘kobolds’. Kobolds live in the cold, underground regions of the world and are renowned for their fluffy ‘scarves’ of hair, which are harvested to make clothing and other fabrics. Yet, the kobold is far from an ordinary monster. Standing at no more than a man’s waist height, it may seem harmless at first glance, but do not be fooled. This monster is a cunning, malicious creature known to burrow deep within the rock, where it creates intricate underground labyrinths filled to the brim with its brethren. Kobolds are pack animals, and clever ones at that. They are more akin to goblins than any other lower tier monster. The kobold's cunning mind is rivaled only by its playfulness. Kobolds are known to sing and dance and to create large spectacles amongst themselves that unwitting adventurers will often wander right into. This playfulness transfers over into their capacity to fight, as they will often employ all manner of schemes and games in their assaults. And though it may be small, the kobold's strength should not be underestimated. Its sharp claws can tear through the flesh of its enemies with ease, and because of its fluffy exterior, it is highly resistant to magic attacks. Do not underestimate the humble kobold. In my opinion, it is likely that they as a whole have taken more human lives than goblins of any tribe, if only for the fact that nobody really seems to think about them too much until it is too late. |
~ Of Kobolds, The small lights in the squeaking darkness
| ~ [Deutero] ~ |
| Human, Male, TRUE HERO |
| Location: The Caravan, On the Road to the South |
The rolling wheels of the carriages echo through the lush, rolling hills of the dark valley as the caravan of holy men, led by the hero Deutero, makes its way southward. ‘Led’ in theory, at least.
In practice, Deutero sits in the first carriage, his sharp eyes taking in the very dull scenery around him. It’s hard to make out much of anything because, well, because of how dark everything always is. His gut feeling is that the world is probably pretty beautiful on a good day, but a good day seems like it is still very far away for now.
Beside him sits Marjatta, the fairy with skin as delicate as petals and eyes like bright stars — at least according to the church scribe who is chronicling their travels for posterity. He did his best not to laugh at that reading.
Deutero looks down at Marjatta, who, sensing his gaze, looks back at him.
“Shut up,” she says quietly, knowing instinctively already what he’s thinking about, given the crack on his lips that he can’t hide when he wants to laugh about something, but doesn’t.
As they travel, the priests, monks, and paladins regale Deutero with tales of the gods and the history of their world. Their voices are hushed, their words filled with reverence and respect for the divine. They speak of how the gods created the world and the creatures that inhabit it, and how they continue to watch over them. He listens intently, his mind filled with images of the deities and their creations as he tries to understand the context here and how this ‘Isaiah’ fits into it all.
Marjatta, who has lived for far fewer years than he has, adds her own stories to the mix, her voice like the sound of a thousand chimes in comparison to the old scholars and men of the holy-church. She speaks of the time before the humans came, when the world was allegedly ruled by the fey and the creatures of the spirit-world.
| ~ [Marjatta] ~ |
| Fairy, Female, Scribe |
| Location: The Caravan, On the Road to the South |
She opens the window and flies out, needing some fresh air.
As the caravan of carriages makes its journey to the southern regions, Marjatta flits around with an eager energy that comes to front as soon as she touches the cool night winds, her tiny wings — a blur of motion. The eager fairy twirls and dances through the air, examining every detail she can see with a child-like wonder. The world is so vast and full of so many things she has never seen before. The green and rolling hills are unlike anything she’s ever imagined, dotted with streams and rivers that glitter in the crooked moonlight. The trees are tall and proud, their leaves rustling in the gentle breeze.
Marjatta flies from one end of the caravan to the other, her tiny form moving faster than the eye can see. She inspects every carriage, peering in through the windows to see the priests, monks, and paladins within. They’re all always so serious and focused, their eyes downcast in prayer or contemplation. Marjatta is fascinated by their devotion and the religious symbols that adorn their garments, which are so different from the light and carefree nature of the fairies she knows, or… well… knew.
Not many fairies are left these days. Just her generation and then the next one in a little while. Anywho, church people are always so… glum. That’s why she liked the cardinal. He was nice at least. He was a good friend. Hovering there in the darkness alone, she watches the carriages roll on, leaving her behind as the lights of their lanterns fade away, submerging her in an inky pool that feels exactly like she feels inside.
She’s happy to be off the mountain, but she misses the cardinal and hasn’t had a chance to say goodbye, really. Not that she ever will, but…
Marjatta zooms over to their carriage and lands on the roof, peeking in through the window to see him. Deutero is, apparently, deep in thought, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery outside. Marjatta taps on the glass, and Deutero looks up, his eyes brightening when he sees her. She waves, pressing her face against the window, and he laughs.
She lifts her head, staring out into the darkness. What the hell was that? Why did she just do that?
The fairy sits there, rubbing her face in vague embarrassment. That doesn’t feel like something she would ever do. Being outside is getting to her. There’s too much… she doesn’t know, just too much. She has too many thoughts and too many wants and ideas and things to see, look at, and think about. She’s sad and mourning, but she’s also excited and giddy, and it’s all just too much, and it’s making life… confusing.
She’s finding that the longer she hangs around with him, the more and more she’s losing her professionalism.
The fairy looks toward the horizon, staring at the star that shines in the night — the light of Isaiah. The cardinal…
— It meant everything to him, the cardinal.
She stares at it, hovering in the air. It looks so close from here. But they’re still a while’s away from it yet.
The fairy looks down at the pendant she’s wearing, the magical talisman that allows her to leave the mountain at all. It’s her life. If she loses it, she’ll pretty much die right away, as fairies can’t exist outside of high-magic zones anymore. Her fingers cusp the cool metal of the unique thing, made just for her…
They’re going to get this done. She’s still not sure about it all, but for the sake of her friend, she’s going to make sure they get this done.
Marjatta flies back to the carriage, zooming in through a window that opens for her.
“Get scared by an owl?” laughs Deutero, yawning and leaning to the side against the wall as she lands next to him, crossing her legs and arms, and then flopping with her back against his side.
“Please,” she replies. “I can handle some stupid owls,” she says.
It’s quiet for a while. “Were there even any owls up on the mountain?” asks the man, looking down at her.
Marjatta leans backward, tilting her head back so that she’s looking at him upside down. “Listen, tough guy,” starts the fairy. “You might be the hero, but I’ll knock you on your butt now, just like I did in training, if you get wise with me,” she warns.
“Very scary,” remarks Deutero, lifting an eyebrow. The two of them stare at each other in silence. She can see a change come to his face, the corners of his lips cracking as he gets a smile and then hides it immediately — poorly.
“Do not,” she warns, pointing at him, which causes him to fail at his attempt even more.
“Who~” hoots the man, looking down at her and receiving a tiny, balled fist struck against his leg. He dramatically winces, holding the spot and rubbing it. “Ah… oooh…” he says, moaning theatrically. “That hurt! I think it’s broken, Marjatta,” says the man, nodding to his leg.
“The only thing that’s broken here is your noggin,” replies the fairy, sighing and shaking her head.
He opens an eye, looking at her; the two of them stare at one another again in silence for a moment before he then sharply hisses for air between his teeth, continuing to nurse the leg. “Shut up!” she snaps, elbowing his leg and turning her back to him again. “Idiot. Sheesh,” says the fairy, looking away.
It’s quiet for a time.
Her eyes twitch, however, and a moment later there’s some fumbling as he messes with something in the carriage.
“Hey. Marjatta.”
“No,” she says, crossing her arms tighter.
“Marjatta,” repeats the man.
“I’m not interested.”
“Mar~ ja~ ta~.”
“What?!” she barks, turning around to look at him. He has dismounted the small window next to him from its hinge and holds it aloft between them, pressing his face against it like she did before. She snorts, trying to hold down a laugh. She quickly turns around again, feeling him looming down over her.
“Marjaataaa~” drones the hero, a raspy stream of air cracking in the back of her throat as she holds it down.
The fairy covers her mouth with both of her hands, hiding her face.
She’s not even sure why she doesn’t want to laugh. It’s about the principle. She doesn’t want him to make her laugh. This is serious. She’s supposed to be serious. The world is at stake. Her friend put everything into this mission, to get the hero here and to get her here. People died.
It’s quiet. The carriage rattles down the road.
Slowly, she turns around, seeing his face right behind her, pressed against the glass pane he’s still holding.
The fairy breaks, falling onto her back and laughing violently as she sees him, quietly thankful that he’s engaged in the same idiocy that she practiced before because now she looks like less of a fool. That’s the theory, at least, as she rolls around on her back, kicking her legs and pointing at him until she manages to catch some air and finally suppress the laughter.
The world is ending.
But she’s never had fun before.
It’s very unprofessional.
Razmatazz
Man, look at all of these fun slice of life segments! Isn't this such a fun and wholesome story? It really looks like we're going to go out on a happy note at this rate. I'm so excited *-*
| In the dark places of the world, where creatures of the night roam free and terrorize the innocent, there exist the most curious beings known as ‘kobolds’. Kobolds live in the cold, underground regions of the world and are renowned for their fluffy ‘scarves’ of hair, which are harvested to make clothing and other fabrics. Yet, the kobold is far from an ordinary monster. Standing at no more than a man’s waist height, it may seem harmless at first glance, but do not be fooled. This monster is a cunning, malicious creature known to burrow deep within the rock, where it creates intricate underground labyrinths filled to the brim with its brethren. Kobolds are pack animals, and clever ones at that. They are more akin to goblins than any other lower tier monster. The kobold's cunning mind is rivaled only by its playfulness. Kobolds are known to sing and dance and to create large spectacles amongst themselves that unwitting adventurers will often wander right into. This playfulness transfers over into their capacity to fight, as they will often employ all manner of schemes and games in their assaults. And though it may be small, the kobold's strength should not be underestimated. Its sharp claws can tear through the flesh of its enemies with ease, and because of its fluffy exterior, it is highly resistant to magic attacks. Do not underestimate the humble kobold. In my opinion, it is likely that they as a whole have taken more human lives than goblins of any tribe, if only for the fact that nobody really seems to think about them too much until it is too late. |
~ Of Kobolds, The small lights in the squeaking darkness
| ~ [Deutero] ~ |
| Human, Male, TRUE HERO |
| Location: The Caravan, On the Road to the South |
The rolling wheels of the carriages echo through the lush, rolling hills of the dark valley as the caravan of holy men, led by the hero Deutero, makes its way southward. ‘Led’ in theory, at least.
In practice, Deutero sits in the first carriage, his sharp eyes taking in the very dull scenery around him. It’s hard to make out much of anything because, well, because of how dark everything always is. His gut feeling is that the world is probably pretty beautiful on a good day, but a good day seems like it is still very far away for now.
Beside him sits Marjatta, the fairy with skin as delicate as petals and eyes like bright stars — at least according to the church scribe who is chronicling their travels for posterity. He did his best not to laugh at that reading.
Deutero looks down at Marjatta, who, sensing his gaze, looks back at him.
“Shut up,” she says quietly, knowing instinctively already what he’s thinking about, given the crack on his lips that he can’t hide when he wants to laugh about something, but doesn’t.
As they travel, the priests, monks, and paladins regale Deutero with tales of the gods and the history of their world. Their voices are hushed, their words filled with reverence and respect for the divine. They speak of how the gods created the world and the creatures that inhabit it, and how they continue to watch over them. He listens intently, his mind filled with images of the deities and their creations as he tries to understand the context here and how this ‘Isaiah’ fits into it all.
Marjatta, who has lived for far fewer years than he has, adds her own stories to the mix, her voice like the sound of a thousand chimes in comparison to the old scholars and men of the holy-church. She speaks of the time before the humans came, when the world was allegedly ruled by the fey and the creatures of the spirit-world.
| ~ [Marjatta] ~ |
| Fairy, Female, Scribe |
| Location: The Caravan, On the Road to the South |
She opens the window and flies out, needing some fresh air.
As the caravan of carriages makes its journey to the southern regions, Marjatta flits around with an eager energy that comes to front as soon as she touches the cool night winds, her tiny wings — a blur of motion. The eager fairy twirls and dances through the air, examining every detail she can see with a child-like wonder. The world is so vast and full of so many things she has never seen before. The green and rolling hills are unlike anything she’s ever imagined, dotted with streams and rivers that glitter in the crooked moonlight. The trees are tall and proud, their leaves rustling in the gentle breeze.
Marjatta flies from one end of the caravan to the other, her tiny form moving faster than the eye can see. She inspects every carriage, peering in through the windows to see the priests, monks, and paladins within. They’re all always so serious and focused, their eyes downcast in prayer or contemplation. Marjatta is fascinated by their devotion and the religious symbols that adorn their garments, which are so different from the light and carefree nature of the fairies she knows, or… well… knew.
Not many fairies are left these days. Just her generation and then the next one in a little while. Anywho, church people are always so… glum. That’s why she liked the cardinal. He was nice at least. He was a good friend. Hovering there in the darkness alone, she watches the carriages roll on, leaving her behind as the lights of their lanterns fade away, submerging her in an inky pool that feels exactly like she feels inside.
She’s happy to be off the mountain, but she misses the cardinal and hasn’t had a chance to say goodbye, really. Not that she ever will, but…
Marjatta zooms over to their carriage and lands on the roof, peeking in through the window to see him. Deutero is, apparently, deep in thought, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery outside. Marjatta taps on the glass, and Deutero looks up, his eyes brightening when he sees her. She waves, pressing her face against the window, and he laughs.
She lifts her head, staring out into the darkness. What the hell was that? Why did she just do that?
The fairy sits there, rubbing her face in vague embarrassment. That doesn’t feel like something she would ever do. Being outside is getting to her. There’s too much… she doesn’t know, just too much. She has too many thoughts and too many wants and ideas and things to see, look at, and think about. She’s sad and mourning, but she’s also excited and giddy, and it’s all just too much, and it’s making life… confusing.
She’s finding that the longer she hangs around with him, the more and more she’s losing her professionalism.
The fairy looks toward the horizon, staring at the star that shines in the night — the light of Isaiah. The cardinal…
— It meant everything to him, the cardinal.
She stares at it, hovering in the air. It looks so close from here. But they’re still a while’s away from it yet.
The fairy looks down at the pendant she’s wearing, the magical talisman that allows her to leave the mountain at all. It’s her life. If she loses it, she’ll pretty much die right away, as fairies can’t exist outside of high-magic zones anymore. Her fingers cusp the cool metal of the unique thing, made just for her…
They’re going to get this done. She’s still not sure about it all, but for the sake of her friend, she’s going to make sure they get this done.
Marjatta flies back to the carriage, zooming in through a window that opens for her.
“Get scared by an owl?” laughs Deutero, yawning and leaning to the side against the wall as she lands next to him, crossing her legs and arms, and then flopping with her back against his side.
“Please,” she replies. “I can handle some stupid owls,” she says.
It’s quiet for a while. “Were there even any owls up on the mountain?” asks the man, looking down at her.
Marjatta leans backward, tilting her head back so that she’s looking at him upside down. “Listen, tough guy,” starts the fairy. “You might be the hero, but I’ll knock you on your butt now, just like I did in training, if you get wise with me,” she warns.
“Very scary,” remarks Deutero, lifting an eyebrow. The two of them stare at each other in silence. She can see a change come to his face, the corners of his lips cracking as he gets a smile and then hides it immediately — poorly.
“Do not,” she warns, pointing at him, which causes him to fail at his attempt even more.
“Who~” hoots the man, looking down at her and receiving a tiny, balled fist struck against his leg. He dramatically winces, holding the spot and rubbing it. “Ah… oooh…” he says, moaning theatrically. “That hurt! I think it’s broken, Marjatta,” says the man, nodding to his leg.
“The only thing that’s broken here is your noggin,” replies the fairy, sighing and shaking her head.
He opens an eye, looking at her; the two of them stare at one another again in silence for a moment before he then sharply hisses for air between his teeth, continuing to nurse the leg. “Shut up!” she snaps, elbowing his leg and turning her back to him again. “Idiot. Sheesh,” says the fairy, looking away.
It’s quiet for a time.
Her eyes twitch, however, and a moment later there’s some fumbling as he messes with something in the carriage.
“Hey. Marjatta.”
“No,” she says, crossing her arms tighter.
“Marjatta,” repeats the man.
“I’m not interested.”
“Mar~ ja~ ta~.”
“What?!” she barks, turning around to look at him. He has dismounted the small window next to him from its hinge and holds it aloft between them, pressing his face against it like she did before. She snorts, trying to hold down a laugh. She quickly turns around again, feeling him looming down over her.
“Marjaataaa~” drones the hero, a raspy stream of air cracking in the back of her throat as she holds it down.
The fairy covers her mouth with both of her hands, hiding her face.
She’s not even sure why she doesn’t want to laugh. It’s about the principle. She doesn’t want him to make her laugh. This is serious. She’s supposed to be serious. The world is at stake. Her friend put everything into this mission, to get the hero here and to get her here. People died.
It’s quiet. The carriage rattles down the road.
Slowly, she turns around, seeing his face right behind her, pressed against the glass pane he’s still holding.
The fairy breaks, falling onto her back and laughing violently as she sees him, quietly thankful that he’s engaged in the same idiocy that she practiced before because now she looks like less of a fool. That’s the theory, at least, as she rolls around on her back, kicking her legs and pointing at him until she manages to catch some air and finally suppress the laughter.
The world is ending.
But she’s never had fun before.
It’s very unprofessional.
Razmatazz
Man, look at all of these fun slice of life segments! Isn't this such a fun and wholesome story? It really looks like we're going to go out on a happy note at this rate. I'm so excited *-*
