:08/12/2251:

8:10 AM

I arrived at the inn where Blink's eMail had told me to meet him. It was a little stone shack in a little stone town, on the outskirts of the Plains of Tempus. The Plains of Tempus was a low-level zone off the edges of Anthera territory, lightly populated these last few years as the tides of new players had slowed from a flood to a trickle. Never the less, there were still elves sweeping the streets, manning their shops, and otherwise living their lives without having to cater to the hordes of new players. As I walked through the thick, wooden doors I was greeted with a brightly lit room, metal chairs and tables lining the walls, sprawled out in front of a glass-encased bar. Three employees worked behind the bar, managing carefully packaged cases of condiments under the enchanted hanging lights. The whole thing struck me as twenty-first-century chic really and it all clashed with the mood and theme of the town, but in spite of it all, I found myself warming to the place with its practical chairs and human-powered machinery. 

The employees where high-elves or wood elves, dressed in simple linen bibs with green and white logos plastered all over them. I couldn't quite make out what the symbols were supposed to be, but from the looks of it, the white was supposed to represent some oddly shaped sandwich. Walking up to the desk I found that there were glowing menus hanging over the people's heads, like billboards, really, but small and made for inside the houses. 

"Hello," a male employee, taller than me by only a few inches, with ears that seemed too large that kind of bounced when he moved his head said. "What can I get you?"

"Flatbread, white. With salami and provolone." I said, quickly reading the options as he waited. 

The man quickly picked up a loaf of wheat bread and started cutting it open, "You want that heated?"

Opening and closing my mouth a few times, I tried to decide if it was some quirk of this place or if he had some mental handicap. Not knowing what to say in this kind of a place, I just shrugged, "Yes, please."

The man started sorting something from the boxes for, I counted, a good minute and a half before grabbing some salami, jamming it on the bread, and tossing the whole mess on some steaming stonework behind him. I just waited, trying not to look too inconspicuous there standing in front of the bar. And failing too, I supposed. After another minute, he grabbed the bread and moved it over to where a bunch of vegetables spread out on the counter. "Fresh trimmings?"

"Avocado, lettuce..." I said, glancing at the labels. But when I looked up I discovered that he was staring at me as I talked. It was a strange sensation, the way he was looking at me, somehow I seemed to sense loathing. Feeling as though he was trying to stare me down or something. I hesitated as I tried to focus on the order, "Um... Jalapenos... and bacon grease. Please." 

His eyes didn't leave mine as he threw the salad portion of the meal together on top of the bread. Again, I didn't know how to read it, but somehow the lack of a smile on his lips sent chills down my spine. It was so disconcerting that I hardly even noticed when he grabbed a bottle of soy-sauce and doused a heavy portion over the whole mess. "Oh. Sorry. 

"Oh. Sorry." He said, shrugging at me, but his lips still curled down into the faintest taste of a frown as he stared into my eyes. 

"Uh... no problem." I honestly didn't mind the soy that much, but I wasn't really sure what to make of the man's behavior. So I decided to just let things slide and try to get through the whole experience. 

I paid at the far end of the little booth and took my... somewhat odd... sandwich over to a metal table while I waited for Blink. I felt the man staring at me at I sat, though I tried to put it out of my mind and stare quietly out the window while I started in on the food. It actually was surprisingly good, all things considered, and the view out over the quiet little hamlet was a beautiful thing to look at.

I had about finished by the time I heard a rattling at the door, noticing the dark leather boots bring in the dark elven man. It was the first time I had gotten a good look at him, I realized. As memorable as our meeting in the caverns was, it was only in the magical brightness of the shop and the cool sun from the windows, that I really got a sense of who the man was before me. 

Dressed in dark leather from head to toe, his grim silhouette was broken only by the little fluffs of a white cotton shirt that peeked subtly out of the tightly wrapped coat. The brim of his leather hat, more at home in an American West kind of game, did nothing to hide the long jagged ears that marked him a Delf. Not that the gray, misty skin of his face wouldn't have given him away easily enough.

His high cheekbones more accentuated his hard, square jaw and sunken eyes, than they gave him the lithe beauty so common to the elven races. And the whole picture gave me the impression that he had been born from geometric angles, every edge of his avatar clearly defined in corners and ridges.  It... worked for him. Really. And yet none of it could compare to the hardware he had clearly belted, tied and sewn to his body.

His sword lay belted to his waist, dangling to his calves and swinging slightly with every step he took. On the other side, on his right, he had what could only be a foot long dagger strapped obviously to his thigh. And, most striking of all I thought, at his breast, he carried a good 8-inch revolver strapped under the thick folds of his coat - the handle protruding out even through the thick buttons and the length clearly visible through the folds of the hard leather. 

Not glancing in my direction, he went straight up to the booth and looked the odd employee in the eyes. "Ham, bacon, and everything on a good hearty loaf," his thick voice leaving no room for pleasantries or interruption.  And yet the odd man behind the counter didn't move toward the counter.

Smirking, he simply shook his head. "We don't serve your kind here, Underling." My mouth fell open as the words turned through my mind, and I found myself staring at the strange pair in front of me. 

"Hurm..." Blink murmured, taking a long, deep breath. There was a tension there that lit my skin, sending each hair on end like they wanted to run out the room without me. "That's a problem you see. Now... what am I supposed to eat?"

The man's smile widened as Blink's eyebrow rose. The dark expression in his eyes clearly reflected in the glass over the countertop. "Well, we bury our trash out back. You could dig for your lunch." The man snickered and looked at an elf behind him, his companions who had been trying to hide in the corner and pretend to be busy now finding themselves drawn into the row. And, from where I sat, the quiet employee smiled hesitantly. Clearly afraid, but feeling emboldened as he was cornered by the alpha sandwich-maker. 

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Bink then turned his head slowly, looking at me for the first time. His eyes held mine for a full second as if he was making sure I had seen, making sure I understood what had been said and what was being done. There was a static as our eyes met, feeling that grim, knowing look upon me. But it wasn't the way I had felt when I was with Sandwichman, the difference between the feeling, my bodies reaction, differed as clearly as night does from the day as I looked back into his eyes. And though my last memory of him involved his longsword plunging so deeply into the flesh of my organs, I found that I wasn't afraid. Instead, I felt the head of my breath against my lips, and suddenly I felt very aware of the feel of the dusty floor at my feet and the cool steel of the table in front of me. 

"Now, you better get going," Mr. Sandwichman said. So rudely interrupting the moment and bringing both of our attention back to the High Elven features of his twisted grin. "Marshall already got the call. I expect he'll be here any minute now to show you where your kind belongs."

 I lost sight of Blink's face, but a familiar, light tone crept out from his words. I could almost hear his mood lightening with his teasing, uncaring tone. It was an infliction I had only heard once before from his lips. And though I had only known this man for a handful of seconds, had only met him that once before, I found my body tensing in anticipation of what was about to happen. "Well, that's that then," he said, not in a huff but more as leading phrase. Leaving the sentence hanging and knowingly unfinished. 

Yet his hand flashed out, too fast to track. And if I had blinked I would have missed it as his fist smashed into the grinning face, splattering the Sandwichman's blood and snot all over his face as you could clearly hear his bone snapping. "You see, I really can't stand little village bullies."

As Sandwichman fell backward, a hush descended over the Inn. Sandwichman's friends ducked and cowered behind the booth, clearly edging slowly toward the little employee door behind them. And with the lippy elf on the ground, there wasn't a sound to be heard save his gurgled breathing.

It was almost a relief, really, when the door behind us slammed open. An Elf who was obviously some kind of sheriff stomped through the room, trailed by two men at his heels armed as well as he. Each carried a long rapier and had what looked to be flintlock pistols tucked into their belts. I could feel my breath catch, as the smell of their unwashed leathers and muddy feet took command of the room. Rank, masculine odors drowning out the sweet scent of meat and honey. 

"Well, what do we have here?" The Marshall said, frowning with the kind of disappointed look you might give your misbehaving child. "This looks like a right mess, it does."

The man to his right snickered. Or rather, he made a sound that I can only describe as snickering, the snorting, coughing gurgle of a laugh that had died strangled and misshapen. "Looks like some Underling trash got fresh with our good man Jacob here. Yes, it does."

The sharif made a show of glancing to his deputy, then back to the Sandwichman. "And what possible cause could this vagrant have for assaulting a good, upstanding citizen like our Joseph here, I wonder?" Ostentatiously speaking to his Deputy, but his eyes moved to carefully assess Blink, my mentor, as he spoke. "What cause indeed?"

Blink simply shrugged, again replying in the light, off-hand tone that sent shivers through my core, "Sniveling guy on the floor there, well he didn't much care to make me a sandwich."

The Marshall sighed. "You know you're not welcome in these parts, stranger. This is the Queen's land, populated with the good Queen's folk. What you coming in here stirring up trouble for, huh? Making my job all difficult and such."

Blink didn't smile then, he simply raised his eyebrows. As if he were asking an honest question, "How about you? Why don't you get back there and make me a sandwich? We'll call it even then, bygones and all." Shrugging slightly, "Hell, I'll even leave you a tip."

The Marshall laughed then, turning to make sure the twin deputies laughed along with him. "Now now, son. It's too late for that. Now, why don't ya come along all quiet like, so as not to disturb that little mongrel sittin' there in the corner?" As if by hidden cue, the three lawmen fanned out to the sides. Covering the room with their bodies.

Blink shrugged a single shoulder and sighed ironically, putting his hand over the handle of his dagger at his thigh. "Well, I tried. You have to give me that." And the world around me started to rip apart. My head spun for a moment, as if my brain was lagging and out of sink with the virtual landscape. Heatwaves in the air started to shift, but then a moment later they weren't heatwaves at all, but bodies. There came sound and flashes of light, and in a heartbeat when it all settled, still my eyes didn't quite understand what they were seeing.

Where there was once four men in front of me, now there were six. Blink's dagger was buried deep in the Marshal's chest, as I had half expected, but two other men, the two gamblers from the cave, now stood over the bodies of each deputy. One, short but surrounded in mist, was holding a crackling hand over a body that danced and jumped on its own - little sparks of lightning flashing between the two and the floor. The other deputy was on his knees, the blades of two daggers jutting from his chest, as the second gambler from the cave hovered behind his head and gave him a little kiss on his ear.

Turning to me Blink spoke, his tone soft and gentle despite the man even now sliding off his blade like a slab of dead meat, "Well, I'm glad you made it here ok. Tell me, how is the food?"

I didn't manage a word, but his tone did loosen me up enough that I was finally able to close my mouth. Seeing my state, he continued, "I'm sorry, but we kind of skipped introductions last time, didn't we? Name's Blinky McBlinkerton, and these two fine Delfs beside me are Gray Gygax, our wizard, and Steve (just Steve) our... acrobat." He winked at Steve, eyes leaving mine for only the briefest of moments. 

"A... pleasure," I managed to choke out, suddenly very aware of the slice of avocado that had slid off the table and into my lap.

"You're now one of us - Lillith's Crew, we call ourselves. And the first thing I'm going to teach you, mentor-to-mentoree like, is that we Do Not Take Shit from Anyone. Period." With a flourish, he ripped his dagger from the Marshall's chest and flipped it at the floor, flinging the drops of blood and flesh off with a slice of air, "Especially not the Queen's toadies, like these corpses here."

With a breath, he shoved the dagger back in its sheath, letting the thud of hilt against leather punctuate his sentence. I could see Gray and Steve nodding solemnly from behind him, but my senses had started to return and I felt something strange. Despite the fact that I had just seen an assault and three murders carried out in front of me, all crammed into a handful of seconds, his words seemed to fill up my spine. This walking machine of blood and death hand just offered me something... acceptance. He had introduced his crew and he had said that I, me, was one of them.

My back straightened then, as if on its own, and something came over me for the first time that day. For the first time in life. Maybe it was all the times I had been called fat, been laughed at by the boys who I had wanted to kiss me, the times I had been spit on as I walked through the halls by the multitudes of passing bodies - or maybe it was something dark, something broken inside me that I only then realized was even there, I don't know. What I do know is that I calmly walked over to the glass counter and reached over the top.

Sandwichman hissed at me from the floor, the angry sound burbling through the wreckage of his face. But his two friends had already reached the door and had left him there to bleed on the floor. And as I quickly moved aside the bread and meats what were coated in blood and in snot, I efficiently followed the motions I had seen Sandwichman perform not moments before. Cut the bread, add the meat, throw on a bit of this and that. The whole thing was lop-sided and threatened to spill over my hands as I held it, but even still I was given a smile as I went to hand it to Blink.

"And my name is Magpie," I said as I carefully handed him the haphazard conglomeration. "I'm your Arch-Druid intern. I have two left feet and no abilities to speak of... but I'd be honored if you'd share this meal with me."

Taking the sandwich, he smiled at me. They... all smiled at me. "Well thank you, dear. But haven't you already eaten?"

I glanced to where he was looking, at the last few bits of my earlier sandwich and I turned away, grabbing the long butcher knife from behind the counter. "Oh, I'm afraid that sandwich didn't... quite... hit the spot."

I glanced at Blink as I retrieved the weapon, moving then toward the pile of meat at his feet, "Too much bile for my taste. Everyone knows that the best meals, they all come from the heart."

Bending over, I used the knife to widen the hole in the Marshall's body. Cutting methodically into his chest toward my waiting dessert.