Gorash stared at the elf. The elf, completely oblivious to his stare,
continued haggling with a gobblin who was hawking albino fish in the market.
"You can always tell the new ones." A rough hand belonging to a tall orc
landed on his shoulder. "The first time they see a bunch of surface type
wandering arround New Drakkaris like they own the place and just about piss
themselves."
"I knew that!" Groash spat. "It's strange. I should be killing or dying,
not gaping. They never fight? Do they not grow... soft?"
"Oh, they fight, friend, as well as ever. Maybe better if the Fire teaches
them a thing or two. So don't go getting any crazy ideas. Things are
different here. You will see."
Gorash looked at the orc suspiciously, then looked back to the elf, who was
exchanging silver with the gobblin for a few pale white fish.
"Silver for fish? Is he stupid? how can a pipsqueek like that get silver
for stinky fish?"
"I told you things are different here." The orc lowerd his voice to a
conspirational whisper. "That little pipsqueek catches the best tasting fish
in the Mirrored City. Nobody knows what dark whole he pulls them from,
but I do know what happend to the last batch of ruffians who thought they
could beat the secret out of the little snot."
"Is he a shaman?" Gorash eyed the little gobblin, who was haggling with a
pair of gnomes.
The orc snorted. "No, be serious, he's a pipsqueek. But the Water let it be
known that the ruffians were no longer needed in the city, and that the
secret of the fish is better left a mystery."
"The Water killed them? I heard they are a bunch of pansy healers!"
"They are pansy healers, that's why they let the Earth hand them over to
the Fire for punishment. That's the way things work arround here."
"This place hurts my head."
"Nothing a good drink can't fix. Come, night is falling in Misthold, I'll
buy you a drink."
*****
Gorash never thought he'd drink ale in a tree, but here he was, drinking
ale in Miss Greenbottom's Inn, high among the limbs of a great oak. The
ale was the king overlord of ales, which made everything else he'd ever
drunk seem like muddy water. The back door swung open, and the brew of
the gods spewed out Gorash's nose.
Gorash's new friend, who had divulged that his name was Maruk, pounded
him on the back. "Ahh, our lovely hostess, Miss Greenbottom! She's
something, isn't she?"
Gorash continued to choke. when he could finally breath, he sputtered
"She's a fucking fairy! Are you insane coming here?"
"Yup, she's a dryad all right, and as lively as they come. But no
harm, friend. In Misthold at night, everybody's a fucking fairy!"
Maruk winked. "I'll not deny she's dangerous, but not for those who pay
their tab and don't break stuff. Rumor has it that when she replaces
her cooks, she sells the old ones to the illithid. Never been proven
one way or another though. She claims she sends them away. Still,
I'm not about to cause trouble in this inn and you won't either."
Gorash gasped with abject fear as he realized the dryad was approaching
thier table.
"Well well, Maruk, Introduce me to this dilectable orc." The dryad
gave Gorash a bawdy wink as she sat down in Maruk's lap. "You always
have the most facinating friends!"
Maruk grined like a fiend. "Miss Greenbottom, this is Gorash, who is
new to town. Gorash, our hostess, Miss Greenbotom."
Gorash turned several different colors.
"Maruk, you havn't been spreading those awful rumors about me agian,
have you?" She laughed, kicking her legs. "Don't go getting him into
trouble, now, you rapscallion." She kissed Maruk full on the lips, and
bounced off to talk with some other customers. Maruk had turned an
interesting shade of red himself.
"Everybody's a fucking fairy?" Gorash asked slyly.
Maruk took a long pull from his ale.
(
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