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originally posted in: Land of Solitha (Introduction)
Edited by CommonBlueberry: 12/18/2021 8:42:25 PM
5
No-name approached the door to the large building. It had a caricatured wolf’s face carved into it, fangs goofily bared in a smile, its tongue lolling out of one side. He grabbed the handle but made no move to open the door. After a short period of hesitation, he smoothed his long hair back, and pushed open the door. Warmth washed over the two travelers as they entered; the large room was filled with small, circular tables, but one long bench sat in the middle. Nestled into the back-left corner was a hearth, blazing with an orange flame. Next to it was the L-shaped bar, which extended all the way to the wall of the inn. Their hostess’s back was turned away from No-name and Reke, attending to the sole customer who sat near the fiery hearth. No-name couldn’t see much, but two large, furry ears poked out among her long dark hair, and a long gray tail swished between the folds of her light dress, accented by a modest green corset. She turned to greet her two new patrons, which only shocked the poor human further. Her upper incisors did not fit completely in her mouth, pinching her bottom lip beneath her fang-like teeth. Her nose was tipped by a brown snout, with broad nostrils, perfect for picking up all sorts of scents. “Reke has arrived at the Grinning Wolf,” Reke announced from No-name’s shoulder. “Reke!” Lydia squealed, rushing over to her new visitors. Before even addressing No-name, she playfully pointed a finger at Reke, slowly moving it closer to his head. The lizlai watched her it, preparing to evade its strikes. She jabbed, aiming straight for the top of his head, but he ducked away, skittering back on No-name’s shoulder. He danced around her finger valiantly, using as much space on the shoulder as he could, but Lydia was too fast. She caught him right in the sweet spot, between the ridges of his eyes, and began gently scratching his scaly head with her sharp fingernails. Reke instantly relaxed, his eyes rolling back into his head, and his throat emitted a low purr. She laughed at their game, holding him in her trance for a few seconds, before gently releasing the lizlai. “So, who are you?” she asked No-name, a smile playing on the edges of her lips. Reke shook himself out of his reverie in time to explain everything, saving No-name from speaking once again. She welcomed them in, pulling the human into her inn, and sitting him down at an empty table. Then, she began rattling off descriptions of every person in their tiny village. No-name had only seen three so far: there was Lydia herself, a lycan, who ran the inn day and night and unofficially served as the mayor’s diplomat to anyone who strolled in. Pol was of the three golem brothers who maintained defense: gatekeeping, finding lost villagers, breaking up fights and such. The plant-like person outside was Lariss, a Pixie, who did odd gardening work in and around the village: helping farmers coax their crops to ripeness earlier, placing magical wards around gardens to ward off pests, and clearing out weeds from village lands. There were dozens more, strange folk from all across the realm, with varying aptitudes and abilities who gathered to this little pocket of nowhere. As the hostess rambled on, the human politely tried to listen, but understood little of the alien terms and strange names that flooded out of her mouth. The lone patron sitting at the fireplace was an old orc that No-name hadn’t even noticed until Lydia introduced him. Grak used to be a soldier, an adventurer across the realm before a monstrous beast took his arm and leg, crippling the man for the rest of his life. He does not do anything concrete for the village, but his advice and stories are always welcome; warrior instincts sharper than knives have kept their village out of trouble more times than Lydia can count. After the introductions, Lydia went back behind her bar, taking a quick inventory of all her drinks and juices. She tapped her nose, carefully looking at all her bottles, casks, and flasks, lined up in an order that only she understood. “Grak, any suggestions?” she asked the lonely orc in the corner. “Frog Grog,” came the reply. “You are the only one that likes that stuff,” Lydia teased, crinkling her nose at its awful smell. Grak grunted and took a hearty swig from his tankard, splashing the dark liquid down his throat. She took her time, carefully examining her spirits to fix the perfect drink for a new customer. Grak stayed in his corner, solemnly watching the fire crackle, casting a long, orcish shadow across the inn. Lydia finally made her decision: Gilfrit juice, a dark, amethyst liquid served in a thin pewter mug. She brought the drink, a miniature stool, and the tiniest glass No-name had ever seen, filled with a blood-red liquid to their table. “What do you think we should call him?” Reke asked her, before she had a chance to skitter away again. “I like the sound of No-name, but it’s too odd. How about Nona?” she suggested. “Nona works,” the human shrugged. A name was a name, as long as it didn’t mean anything completely ridiculous. “Aright, Nona it is then,” Lydia smiled, “Now that we know what you are and what to call you, we have to figure out what to do with you,” “I thought you might have some ideas,” Reke said in between sips of his viscous red beverage. “Have you tried asking Nona where he wants to go?” she said “I was going to do that,” the lizlai defended, “After… you know, after we did this,” he finished lamely. “Uh-huh, sure you were,” Lydia smirked, “So Nona, where do you want to go?” she asked, taking a place their small table. The human shifted in his seat nervously under her bright, expectant eyes. He took a small sip of his sweet, tangy drink, buying a few more precious seconds to rack his memory. “I, er, I’m not sure. I don’t really know anything about anything, with the whole memory thing. I guess I’ll go wherever,” he muttered. Reke opened his mouth to make a snarky retort, but Lydia quickly cut him off, “This certainly sounds like an Elvish problem; a mysterious race waking up in the middle of nowhere with no memory. The Imperial City has an expansive library, and elves are always curious about new peoples, especially magical ones. The path can be a little dangerous now, with Underrealm beasties lurking in the night, but the courier said there were a few adventurers down the road that should be arriving any day now. They’d be willing to take you, for a price. That’s what my alpha did with the other one, back when I was a cub.” “Or Lusahn could bring him,” Reke suggested. Lydia’s smile faded from her face, “He hasn’t been back for a while,” she said solemnly. “Where is he? Did they take him for the war with the Underrealm?” Reke asked. The lycan shook her head, her folding her hands down in her lap. “We don’t know. No letter, no message, and nothing in his house seems out of order. He took off to the Imperial City, just like he does every month, and he hasn’t come back for three months,” Reke let the thought ruminate around the table. Lusahn was an elf, but, making his home in this quaint little town, he was far removed from the Elven Empire. A joy to have around, Lusahn served as the liaison between the Empire and the town, which fell within its borders. A well-learned individual, many times he had saved the town from intrepid Elven scholars looking to dissect and disturb the quiet life of the townsfolk and the wilderness. But, as much as he helped in Elven affairs, Lusahn was also the town’s only healer, adept in magical healing, salves, and potions. Each year, at least one villager was saved from sickness or grave injury by the elf’s efforts. “Wait, what did you mean by ‘other one’?” Nona inquired as to Lydia’s comment. “Yeah, the other one. I was very small then, but I remember I was here, with my alpha, when a mysterious visitor suddenly popping up in the village. He was pretty scary, and we sent him to the Imperial City pretty quickly. I guess the roads were safe enough back then not to need an escort.” She mused. “Was he a human?” Nona followed up. “I’m not sure. He was a big and his skin was really dark, like it had been wood stained, not like yours at all. Hair grew out in a big bush from his chin, not from his head, and he was much larger than you are. I don’t think he was a human, sorry. Though…” she pondered. “Though?” Nona pressed, leaning towards her. “Though I remember that man had rounded ears, like yours. That isn’t very common here. I guess it’s possible he was human,” she apologized, wishing she could provide more help. It wasn’t much, but, for Nona, it was at least a start. Her description of the man tickled at the back of his mind, a hazy memory lying just out of reach. It was a strange feeling, where a face blurred into his mind, but it was impossible to tell if it was a memory from his past or an overactive imagination grasping for hope.
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  • I just finished the introduction, after reading more than half of chapter one thinking that it was the beginning. Now that everything makes more sense, I’m going to make my comments: you have a way with words that makes my eyes roll into the back of my head, making my throat produce a purr. I love the story so far, and just knowing that you got me (ADHD + dyslexia + buffoon) to read something is an achievement worthy of multiple commendations.

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  • Bookmark.

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  • Edited by CommonBlueberry: 1/9/2022 11:19:50 PM
    Then, a thump echoed throughout the tavern room, cutting through Nona’s musings. The old orcish warrior was hobbling towards their table, swinging his iron peg leg wide with each other step. Lydia tsked and quickly rushed over to him, swinging the iron claw that took the place of his hand over her shoulder, supporting his bad side as he struggled over to their table. The stubborn old goat grumbled protests at the help but accepted it anyway. He collapsed into an empty chair at their table, and Nona got a good look at him for the first time. His skin was slate gray, crinkly, but taut with muscles that never lost their strength. He had a large, rectangular face with a low hanging jaw. Yellow teeth crowded his mouth, some on the bottom and top protruding from a closed mouth. His head was bald, save for one long, silky black tail that protruded from the top of his head and fell down his back. He wore a simple brown, sleeveless tunic and matching breeches, with only one boot on his good foot. “Don’t trust the elves,” he said, his soft, boomy voice echoing over their small table. “So I shouldn’t go to the Imperial City,” Nona concluded. “Listen first, boy!” he rebuked, “The Imperial City is exactly the place you should be going to. It’s got the biggest store of knowledge in all the realm. If there’s anywhere you can find out about who you are, it’s there,” “But,” He continued, looking pointedly at the lizlai “you’ll need a guide. Empires and Cities aren’t like here; they do nothing out of the kindness out of their hearts, especially nowadays. Another war with the Underrealm, more beasties out at night, and a mysterious visitor popping up reeks of magic, of elves poking their noses in places they shouldn’t. They’ll let you peruse their great libraries and learn what you can, but the elves will always be watching,” He leaned in closer, the firelight flickering on half of his wrinkly face, “And as soon as they deem your worth used up…” he made a slicing motion across his throat with his thumb, “You’ll be tossed aside.” Grak leaned back, taking another gulp of his grog, which emanated an acrid scent from the tankard. “I seen it far too often in soldiering. Be careful, and don’t overstay your welcome,” he finished, face set with grim memories. Nona nodded, and took another sip of his drink, quenching his suddenly dry throat. “I guess I’m going to the Imperial City, but I don’t know the way,” he resolved, looking hopefully at his new friends. “Somebody has to go find Lusahn, and, no offense to you village folk, but you guys aren’t very capable in the real world. This is going to require the work of a well-traveled professional such as myself,” Reke suddenly declared. “Oh Reke, you don’t have to do that! I’m sure he’s fine,” Lydia protested “He ought to. And who’s gonna take the new guy to the Imperial City?” Grak grumbled. “See? He gets it,” Reke said, nodding to Grak, “And don’t think I’m doing this just for you; I could stand to have a few more adventures under my belt,” “What adventures?” Lydia laughed off his comment. Still, she beamed and gave Reke another one of his coveted scratches while Grak scowled at the lizlai’s overconfidence. Nona took a sip of his drink, gracefully hiding a grin beneath his cup. With serious matters settled, conversation turned to lighter topics: tales of jocular embarrassment and convenient happenstance. Stories were shared and swapped, and laughter echoed deep into the night. … Next Chapter: https://www.bungie.net/en/Forums/Post/260230188?sort=0&page=0

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  • Also, you should double space dialogue. It gets a little confusing on the app when it’s all so tight together. Anyhow, nifty story! Looking forwards to reading the rest! I shall come up with a name now!

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  • Edited by CommonBlueberry: 12/9/2021 6:01:16 PM
    Link to signups: https://www.bungie.net/en/Forum/Post/260165719/0/0

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