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Back at Sandpoint

DAY 1 – Wast für ein Mensch bint ich? In two separate places in the town of Sandpoint , abandoned lovers sighed. An young Osirion man who once only knew the smell of suffering and sand, inhaled the distinct smell of the woman he loved from a scarf she wore the night before. She had only been gone a few hours but his heart still ached knowing that he didn’t know when she would return – or in what state. Although, Synovia was the strongest, in terms of physical power, of the the Heroes of Sandpoint , she was also the kindest and wisest. Though she spent her entire life in Varisia, the wisdom of the desert burned in the heart of her as true as the magic that also coursed through her veins. Although she claimed to know and understand little of her Suli heritage, she commanded the elements with the same passion with which she loved Imahnee. For that and more, he felt a kind of gratitude that could only come from being loved by someone. He tied the scarf around his scabbard then began the task of armoring himself for his life as a Sandpoint guard. For her, Imahnee would protect this village with his life. He had no other ties to this town beyond Synovia’s undying love for it. If Sandpoint were a man, he couldn’t be sure he could compete with it, though he little understood what she saw in the homely, little village. Of late it had been fraught with trouble that nearly crippled its economy and decimated the surrounding farms. Still, if Synovia was to feel safe leaving it in order to save the world, he gladly pledged to lay down his life to keep it safe. However, he hoped it never came to such dire circumstances, for if he did have to defend the town actually with his life, Synovia would be quite cross with him and he had no doubt she would find him in Pharasma’s arms and demand he explain himself. She might even have a word or two with the goddess of death herself. The thought gave him a smile. Tightening the last strap on his leather armor, Imahnee grabbed his sword as he left their home. The weather was misty and make the chill in the air feel like a tangible thing. Playfully, he carved his hand through the air and froze droplets of water in a wide arc, the sound of their fall tinkling like tiny bells. With a smile, he began to march towards the Garrison. - A goblin queen who once only knew the smell of destruction and chaos, inhaled the distinct smell of the half-elf she loved from his ceremonial cloth. Grosilge did not measure things in time since, for short-lived goblins, time is not worth measuring. However, she did know that her heart missed the golden-haired Vrinn and that she did not know when he would return from wherever he had gone. Vrinn was change. He changed everything he touched. He changed her, he changed the human town, he changed clothes. He was always Vrinn in the way that Vrinn just always… was, and yet nothing stayed what it always was when he changed it. He was… He was… She wrapped her the yellow silk tighter around her. She could feel the thought in her brain, slowly oozing forward, like blood dripping on a cold day… Ah! He was an ImmerbrentFeuer – an ever burning fire. She had only just made the word and it was perfect. Fire changed everything it touched while always being fire. She nodded at this revelation and the sound of the glassworks fires seemed to pop into the front of her mind as though summoned by her thought. Chuffy was also an ImmerbrentFeuer – a more controlled Immerbrentfeuer. He changed himself, he came and changed the glassworks, and he made glass that changed. He changed things because he wanted them to change. He understood how to make changes.Then what was she, the thought came unbidden in her mind. She stared at the opposite wall, still stained with blood from the former workers of the Glassworks . She studied the pattern while part of her mind wrestled with a complex question her mind desperately wanted to be simplify. Goblin pups burst in while she thought. One had a chunk of something in its mouth the others wanted to have in their mouths. Her red eyes trailed them from under the yellow silk and followed them around the room until they left. They didn’t notice her still form and even if they had, they had more important things to think about. Moments later there was a pained yelp from somewhere nearby, hailing that someone had suffered some ill fate or had at least been caught in the jaws of another pup. She went back to staring at the wall and hugging herself in the silk. What was she? A person, came Miro’s calm but insistent voice. _Ja, ja, Ich eine Person aber… “What kind…” she finished aloud. Her stomach roiled, as if the pups in her belly were disturbed by the sudden exclamation. She needed answers and those answers needed to become the song in her heart. She cast off the silk and hopped to the cold, stone floor and winced from the chill. “STUPID!” she snapped at the cold, the pups discomfort suddenly justified by her discomfort. She grabbed the yellow silk and and cocooned herself such that she didn’t have to touch the floor. It was awkward. And as soon as she emerged in the hallway close to the burning forges she abandoned her cocoon though she kept the silk bundled around her in a kind of dress. What kind of goblin hated the cold and loved Vrinns, she wondered as she waddled into the glassworks proper and heard the toil and chaos of goblins set to work. Many sang the song she made to help them remember how to make glass. There were some variations she as definitely sure she did NOT sing but generally it seemed like they were getting along. Gromulus was eyeballing a vase Gremus was making. It looked like an upside down tentacle fish reaching desperately for the sky. She didn’t like it. What kind of goblin, no, person, didn’t like desperate, color changing, glass tentacle fish? “I don’t like fish,” she said aloud. “I don’t know why, I Just don’t.” Gremus paused, confused. He looked at Gromulus who shrugged and brandished a hammer jabbering in the language they used. Gremus threw up his hands and cursed unintelligibly. Gromulus eagerly set about destroying the vase. Grosilge continued to tour her tiny queendom. Some goblins worked, other didn’t. The pups were everywhere. Huts were constructed of various trash bits and some leftover furniture from the wreckage left when Tsuto Kaijitsu allowed the goblins to run rampant. Still the factory’s interior looked like a goblin village – a very odd goblin village. It looked like a goblin village merged with a longshank village. What kind of queen had a village like this? A loud bang followed by goblin cursing followed by a fight between two or three goblins erupted a few feet beside her. Soon, there was a double that as more goblin joined the fray, seemingly for no other reason than to come out on top. Grosilge watched for a moment, no desire to join herself before continuing to walk. What kind of person, no goblin, isn’t interested in fights? Scowling, she waddled out into the cool mist of the morning and began to walk aimlessly. For a moment she considered going back to grab Mein Axe and singing for coin at the Rusty Dragon but Loudlady Ameiko insisted she not perform lest she “harm the babies”. Fussylady Hannah agreed. Soon she’d have pups that would join the pups in the Glassworks but… What kind of people would they be? Would they like fights? The questions haunted her and she knew in that instant she was NOT the kind of person that liked to be haunted. - Sheriff Hemlock always gave Imahnee the jobs the other guards did not want to do. His adopted daughter forbade him from more direct acts of violence like, throwing hammers at the young suitor, so he adapted and tried to test the young man’s patience. Unfortunately for Sheriff Hemlock, Imahnee’s primary element was patience. No matter what he had him do, Imahnee performed the task calmly and somehow while maintaining a pleasant attitude. Most of the other soldiers found it endearing, like a quiet revolution. Imahnee’s smiles beating at the stoic wall that is Belor Hemlock. Behind closed doors, bets were being placed on how soon either Belor outright murdered the Magnimar transplant or finally caved to Imahnee’s irresistible charm. Today Belor set him on foot patrol with another guard, Torral, a young Varisian local who had about as much discipline as one of the Goblin Squad – maybe less. Their patrol was the only one to pass the now goblin-infested Glassworks. The small inhabitants MOSTLY kept to themselves but when they didn’t they caused trouble for the nearby houses and businesses. Nothing too bad but it usually resulted in lengthy and angry conversations with the abused Sandpoint citizens. Imahnee was good at calming people down – both his size and demeanor convinced most people to take a deep breath and find a more peaceful resolution to their problems. He had little to no interaction with the goblins however, save for the Goblin Squad or the two guards at Rusty Dragon. Still, Desna taught that friends came in all shapes and sizes and he should not want to it get back to his love that he was unkind to the creature she called “friends”. A small yellow tangle was waddling its way towards them. It was the size of a child but under the yellow were too small green legs and taloned feet. It stopped in front of them and Imahnee noticed large red eyes under a coil of yellow silk. “Hello, little friend. I hope you are not causing any trouble,” he greeted kindly. A muffled. “I am not,” came from the yellow tangle. “I’m being chased by a question. A bunch of questions,” it corrected. Imahnee looked down the road and didn’t see anything but the normal denizens of Sandpoint and assumed, correctly, that the goblin was speaking metaphorically. “What kind of questions, little friend?” “EXACTLY!” Torral rolled his eyes. “For the love of Golarion’s simple beasts…”, he growled. Imahnee held up his hand to silence the man. He knelt to one knee and smiled. “I am a simple man, little friend. I wish to know the nature of your questions. Why would they chase one such as you unless they enjoy your company.” A green arm snaked out from the tangle and pulled the fabric from the creature’s mouth. It inhaled the fresh air revealing a mouth missing teeth – not a few but many. “What kind of person am I? Why kind of person will my pups be? What kind of queen am I? What kind of-” “Imahnee,” Torral groaned. “Let’s tell the gob to get back in the Glassworks and keep going…” The man looked like someone had poured sand down his trousers. “We will go when we have given aid to our little friend,” Imahnee’s voice was firm and when Torral opened his mouth to protest Imahnee’s gaze also hardened. Torral clamped his mouth cold almost audibly and pretended to keep watch up and down the street. Imahnee turned back to the goblin. “Desna teaches us that life is meant to be explored for such answers. Your questions are not chasing you, you are chasing them since they will reward you with a great treasure.” The goblin narrowed its eyes contemplatively. It tilted its head and considered Imahnee. “What does it mean to not like fish?” “That you know what you like to eat!” “What does it mean to not like the cold?” “You have a warm heart,” Imahnee proclaimed with a nod. “Though you may have too thin skin.” The goblin considered this for a moment. “What does is mean to love Vrinn?” Imahnee blinked. Vrinn? The half-elf? The large man bellows a laugh. “If you love who I think you are speaking about, then you must have a large heart , patience, and a love for adventure!” He was about to stand when a thought dawned on him. “Gro…Grossilj?” The goblin smiled and pulled the silk off of her head. “Grosilge. Grow. Sill. Gah. You know my husband?” Torral looked confused. “Husband? Goblins marry?” “This one does. She is Queen Grosilge, ruler of the goblins of Sandpoint. Wife to Vrinnatholis Vandiir, Hero of Sandpoint.” Imahnee stood and bowed to Grosilge, who curtsied adeptly, surprising the large man. “She searches for herself but I see she is already a noble lady.” Gildie grinned wider and gave Imahnee a flirtatious look, a thought donning on her. “How would you like to be my knight?”
Day 4 – Das Lied in jedem Feuer Imahnee did not become Grosilge’s knight. He opted to become her friend instead, explaining that he was loyal first to Synovia, second to Sandpoint and that a third loyalty would make him a poor knight for any queen, much less one as important as Grosilge. She surprised him by agreeing though expressing no short supply of disappointment. She looked forward as they walked, her legs pumping rapidly to keep up. He had offered to give her a mount but she declined, assuring him that she nor her pups were in any danger. Moerterhauer was back at the mansion, becoming a favorite pet for the the Pixie’s Kitten girls . “Gildie,” he began as she waddled beside him. “Why do you feel the need to have knights? You have many powerful goblin fighters in your clan now.” . “Knights are different. They talk to you, they help you, they teach you how to do things, and they care about you.” She explained between huffs. “A fighters fight. Knights…help you, too.” Imahnee took sometime to consider her words before replying. “I believe, Gildie, you speak of friends. Friends do all of these things and they fight for you, just as a knight would.” He stopped at an intersection and let a horse drawn carriage cross by them. “I think you need some good friends to talk to.” “Synovia, Miro, and Vrinn are my best friends,” she urged. “I don’t need more of them. They are pretty good…I need-” “Trusted advisors?” Imahnee interrupted. “Gildie, do you know who should be in a Queen’s court?” She huffed deeply, more from exertion than any other feeling and shook her head. Imahnee knelt before her put a warm hand on the side of her face. “I’m sorry, Gildie. I know you said you could walk on your own but I insist you let me carry you.” This time her sigh was of relief she didn’t know she was harboring. She grinned, patting imahnee’s hand and nodded. “Aufwärts, Imahnee.” He smiled and hoisted her on his shoulder, having to adjust her volumes of warm silk to still be able to see. “A queen,” he began, “Should have a King-” “Vrinn,” she inserted. Imahnee nodded. “An advisor, maybe a council of advisors- each well suited to a particular task, knights, lords and ladies that guard her lands and her people, an army to protect her sovereignty and interests, laws, law keepers…You see Gildie, your job as queen is to rule the inspiration for your people. The smaller details should be left to other people.” There was silence from the goblin as she drummed her hands on Imahnee’s helmet in a soft rhythm that at first seemed erratic until he realized the beat was for words instead of a beat. He smiled and wondered if music was all Gildie thought about. “The only land I have is the Glassworks…” she began. “There’s the basement, and the caves underneath though…” Imahnee was about to agree until he realized the nearly fatal flaw he made. How could be so careless!? Convincing Gildie to build an actual kingdom and raise an entire army? it could cause the delicate balance of the goblins here in Sandpoint to be tipped towards war. Synovia would gut him and Vrinn…he didn’t want to think about what the Calistrian would do if something happened to his wife. “Actually, Grosilge, my queen. You have no lands of your own,” he began cautiously. “The land here belongs to everyone in Sandpoint and Sandpoint already has an army… There’s also technically already laws but…” He stumbled not sure how to progress. Before the goblin queen could reply, he added, “In ”/wikis/magnimar" class=“wiki-page-link”> Magnimar, we had a Council of Ushers. They all represented their district. Perhaps you could represent the goblins. A Council of People." The drumming stopped and he held his breath. Grosilge leaned forward as far as she could without tumbling to the ground to look under Imahnee’s helmet. Her look was unreadable, her large red eyes like giant garnets and her naturally wide goblin mouth always seemed to settle into a mischievous smirk. “You are a good friend. I can see why Synovia loves you.” Imahnee smiled. He couldn’t be sure she understood completely but her response was reassuring. They had strayed a bit from his patrol path. Some time ago, Torral had stopped behind to flirt with a girl he had been courting for some time. There’s no way to tell if he continued the patrol or abandoned it all together. Either way, he had to get back to it. It was nice having Grosilge visiting him. His usual patrol kept him away from the former monsters. He still sometimes found himself wandering towards his last patrol near the North Gate. “I’ll take you back to the Glassworks,” he said turning around. " She tapped his helmet in a playful beat and said cheerfully. “Hey, no, this is perfect. Abwärts.” She tapped his helmet and pointed down. He helped her down and she readjusted the folds of silk. “Gut sein, Imahnee!” she said waving a farewell as she waddled up to Firestarter. The goblin was assigned guard duty at the garrison. He saluted and began talking with her. Imahnee readjusted his helmet and walked back to his patrol, smiling. ▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄ Roxreex watched The Destroyer’s mate as he became familiar with Grosilge the Weichenbauch. They walked his new patrol, with her following on the rooftops or in the alleys when the gaps between the buildings unbeknownst to them. She was never close enough to hear what they were saying, however she followed all the same. She little understood The Destroyer that came to Thistletop and destroyed everything she could. Roxreez lost her chief , her mate and soon after her courage and will to fight. She never faced The Destroyer on her own however she saw the battle from a distance and it gutted her. When Gogmurt brought them down to Sandpoint to prove a point about the destruction, Roxreez thought her heart might give out from the fear of facing The Destroyer. Fortunately, she was not there when they arrived as refugees. And then Grosilge made her proposal to defect. Roxreez ran to the other side without much thought, fear throwing her forward. And now, she was disgusted with herself. All of the goblins in this town were weichenbauchs. The refugees working the glassworks were opportunists, scavengers, and breeders with no fangs, Scummer and Gros’gamort were barely functioning, Firestarter became too friendly with Armstrong – though she could see why – and the others… She hissed thinking about how frustrating it all ways. It was only she and Rotgut that maintained any semblance of being real goblins anymore. Everything was wrong! Rotgut told her she was burning her eyes out staring at the fire when it came to Grosilge and the Destroyer. She spent many nights spying on one of the other. They both were powerful, strong, and they were allies. However, in spite of her attempts, she could not prove that SHE deserved to be considered. It plagued her nightmares. Roxreez watched suspiciously as Imahnee dropped Grosilge off at the Garrison where the latter greeted Firestarter. The former seemed headed back to his patrol. Roxreez hissed and descended from her vantage point on a roof. She intended to confront their “queen” and find out what she intended for the Destroyer’s mate. She deftly used shutters and window sills to descend far enough to leverage a wall to jump to a nearby tree and then climbing down was a simple tasks. The natural dexterity of a goblin suited her well to life in a human city. A fact she exploited at every turn, especially during her short time as a thief. Taking a moment to gather herself, she straightened her back and came around the corner. By this time, Grosilge had left and Firestarter was standing as still as a log with a fearsome expression on his face. Another pose, she thought contemptuously. Firestarter loved posing, a game he had picked up from Armstrong. The other guards found it humorous- another thing for the guards to mock the goblins for – goblins that could kill everyone in the village, if their numbers were greater. If she could rule them, she could make Sandpoint a new goblin village. Human slaves and plenty of food. She marched forward and snarled at Firestarter. He didn’t move. “You look like a fool,” she admonished. “It’s not useful to stand at attention if your weapon is five feet away.” She pointed to a small sword leaning up against a nearby bench. It was clearly sized for a goblin and Firestarter was unarmed. “I am the weapon,” he barked, his yellow eyes sliding to look at her before snapping back forward. She spat. “You are a guard. Not all of our opponents will be easy to fight without a blade!” She stomped over and grabbed the sword and shoved it at Firestarter. “As good as you are, I’m better and I’ll gut you before you can so much as grab my small finger, you bucket head.” With that she flung open the door and entered, glaring as she scanned the room. Hemlock didn’t look up from his paperwork. She liked Hemlock. He was straightforward and unperturbable. “Sheriff Seriousface, v’here did Grosilge go?” she asked in common. Sheriff Seriousface was, to her goblin-mind a much better name than ‘Hemlock’. Sheriff Seriousface did not seem to mind the change. “Chow Hall.” That was all he said. She nodded and headed down a hallway. She was halfway down before she realized she hadn’t saluted. Sheriff Seriousface hadn’t seemed to mind that either but Gulo would reprimand her for her lack of discipline and respect to her superiors. She snarled at nothing and continued on her way. The Chow Hall was really just a room large enough to hold a few tables and benches. Most guards would stop and eat at a local eatery in order to fraternize with their neighbors and get better food than the meager meals offered by Gozlin, an aging human woman who volunteered her services. At least the food at the Chow Hall was free. The goblins preferred Gozlin’s cooking and many of the human guards suggested that if one could stomach Gozlin’s cooking then maybe it would be considered “tasty”. Grosilge was at a table with Grady, Rotgut. Two other guards were sitting together playing cards. They usually guarded the mayor’s house and they usually slacked off if given the chance – and so they were. Grosilge was encased in ridiculous yellow fabric and talking animatedly. “… trying to figure it out. Since I can already read, I’ll try it out when they’re done,” she was saying. Grady nodded appreciatively. “Reading?” Roxreez cooed. “Then maybe that’s why your head is so empty.” She calmly walked forward and climbed into an empty seat across from Grosilge. Rotgut made room for her and said nothing. He rarely spoke. Grosilge frowned. “Did I hurt your feelings, Queen of the Softbellies?” Grady shook his head. “Be nice, Roxreez. Grosilge was just talking about some ideas to help the goblins here in town.” She snorted and turned her head to spit on the ground. “The goblins here are fat but weak. If Chief Ripnugget were still alive, he could conquer this town and bathe in the blood of every weak, softbelly here.” The thought made her stomach tighten. Chief Ripnugget wasn’t here. He was dead. Killed by the Heroes of Sandpoint. She hid her discomfort in a sneer. Grosilge sat down, the cheer dampened. Roxreez felt a victory. She gave a short laugh and hopped down to ask Gozlin for whatever she was cooking. As she reached the door, she heard the sound of conversation. She looked back at the two meddlesome guards. They were arguing about cheating or something like that. She turned her head the other way and saw Grady, resting a hand on Grosilge’s head and smiling, talking. She smiled. Every smile she took from Grosilge, someone was always there to give it back. Every time she knocked her down, there was someone there helping her to her feet, dusting her off, and giving her a jar of pickles. Roxreez opened the door, shoving down a scream. Grosilge watched Roxreez leave. Grady’s hand felt warm on her head. He was saying something…“What?” “I asked if you had any new songs?” He smiled. “You’d have made an amazing warchanter.” She looked him, her mind distracted and barely processing his words, even though he was speaking goblin. “War…chanter? No, no!” Grosilge shook her head. “I don’t want to sing to make people fight or…die. I just…I want to sing the songs I see in people’s…” she looked at Rotgut, suddenly aware of the thing that made her freakishly inappropriate to her people in the first place. The taciturn goblin looked back at her. His eyes were red, like hers, but they were smaller, piercing and completely… She gasped and gaped at Rotgut. “…hearts.” The door opened suddenly and Roxreez had a plate in one hand and a large bowl in the other. She occupied the space Rotgut had made for her before and began eating greedily why glaring at Grosilge. “Gildie,” Grady asked concerned. “Are you-” “I have to go!” She hopped down and ran to the door. “Roxreez, you could be nicer to her. She’s trying her hardest to-” Grady was cut short as the table next to them was flipped over, cards going everywhere. Grady gritted his teeth and stood up suddenly. “WOULD YOU TO KNUCKLEHEADS CUT IT OUT!” “Sorry!” “See, I told you I’d get in trouble-” “You can’t blame me…Was pretty cool though I’d have flipped it the other way…” “What’s the other way?”
Day 6 – Der Plan Grosilge looked at the scattered drawings all around her and screamed, grabbing her ears and pulling them in frustration, falling to her back on the floor. “NOTHING IS RIGHT!” Goblin pups in the halls paused and scattered at their Queen’s rage. The first time they had run in and damaged her plans she had set on them with a chair leg and a string of curses. After than she had created a barricade to keep them out and only shouted when they were too loud. The goblin queen stared up at the ceiling. A spider hesitated at the border of an old blood spray and deciding there was no danger, continued its journey. She couldn’t have cared less about the damn spider. Two large heads appeared over her – Gromulus and Gremus. The two could only be told apart thanks to the difference in their piercing and scars. Gromulus chattered something to his brother and the other responded and they disappeared from her view. She tried to sit up but her large belly immediately prohibited her from making much progress. She collapsed back and sighed, defeat approaching the edges of her consciousness. She listened to the chattering language of the twins and their shuffling of feet and her papers with failed sketches. A sketch was shoved in her face and a question asked. “That is the costume for the opening number except I hate it and I hate everything,” she responded bitterly. “It’s supposed to be daring and magnificent! Instead it’s…” she blew raspberries then hissed. Gremus turned the paper to look at it and nodded before disappearing. The idea of asking the twins for help crossed her mind however the language barrier prevented her from truly considering the idea. However, in the Chuffy’s absence the role of Glass Chief fell to the two twins who, in spite of being unintelligible to anyone in town, including other goblins, were excellent at running the shop and getting the goblins working in the glassworks to design items the townspeople would want. Gromulus held a paper with a diagram of a stage and a crude set of a longshank village. “That,” she sneered. “is supposed to be Sandpoint.” The goblin gave a short laugh, then longer laugh, then stopped laughing when he saw Grosilge’s glare. He cleared his throat and disappeared. More time passed and Grosilge lay on the cold stone floor, at some point falling asleep. Around her the twins gathered the papers and reorganized them. One always carried paper and the other writing utensils. As their queen snored, they corrected her work the best they were able. “Her ideas aren’t bad,” Gremus commented one time, looking at a costume design. Gromulus scoffed a different time at a stage drawing. “She doesn’t understand perspective at all!” And they worked, refining, the queens drawings and translating her scrawled and poorly spelled common into goblinbild – the pictographs the twins had been working to create. A few times, it sounded like the queen would awaken and they would pause to stand over her. Sometimes they would laugh, other times they would comment on her. “Is she dead?” “No, she’s breathing.” “She’s HUGE!” “Enormous.” “Monstrous.” “Gigantic.” They paused and looked at each other and nodded commenting in unison. “Goblin whale.” Grosilge opened an eye. “Vat? You’re still here and speaking nonsense. Vhy?” They grinned and each took one of her arms and hefted her up to her feet. She blinked bleary eyed and yawned loudly. “What is…” she began returning to goblin. She topped mid-sentence because she found her jaw unable to support the shock. The twins had drawn and arranged the entirety of her vision in the her short nap. They had kept her original drawings nearby their re-worked versions for reference and yet with very little guiding they had captured everything she wanted. The costume designs look fantastical and yet she knew precisely how she would construct them now that she could see them in detail. And the sets – Sandpoint looked like Sandpoint and the Seven Tooth village looked like the mud huts she remember and not like amorphous blobs with sticks randomly drawn sticking out of them for roofs and pup kennels. She took her time walking around the room and examining each picture. They goblinbild language still evaded her but some things she could guess the meaning of. She turned to the twins and grinned. “Okay, now this is a pretty sweet beinahezusammenstoßklinge!” The twins looked at each other and grinned, nodding enthusiastically. ▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄ Cydrak Drokkus clapped his hands twice in sharp, rapport. “Where is the passion, people?” he sighed. “Yoren, more vibratto. I want to feel the notes in my bones. Iilya don’t just flop in his arms like a dead fish. You LOVE this man and his embrace gives you courage! Strength!” He wiped his brow with a red silk kerchief. “Once more, from the top of the scene! And-” “VAIT!” The theater owner turned and saw one of the goblins in the town coming down the corridor passed the empty seats. He jumped a little, unsure how one of the creatures had escaped the doomed Glassworks where they were being housed for reason he could not fathom. The plump creature was garbed in a dress that seemed made of several dresses. It’s belly was distended so far, he could barely make out its clawed feet propelling it forward. It carried a stack of papers that rested on the top of its belly. “Vait, I want to sit down and see. I’ve never been to one of your plays.” Cyrdrak blinked as the creature climbed into a seat and sighed, catching its breath. “Okay, from ze top of ze scene. Go, I do not have all day and I need to talk to zat guy.” She pointed to Cyrdrak’s stunned face, face still observing the actors on stage. The actors on stage remained uncertain of the situation and looked to their director. Cyrdrak brushed a strand of wavy hair behind his ear and cleared his throat. “From the top!” he shouted and flourished his arms out. “To your positions! We are professionals and the show must be shown or shelved!” There was a flurry of activity on the stage as the men and women of the scene reset themselves and the backstage hands adjusted the scene while the band worked to get their places in the score. Grosilge watched intently. “And a one and two and …” Music filled the Sandpoint Theater as the actors on stage played a scene of lovers, long separated, meeting again. The man, a deposed prince, sang a sorrowful song of his fear of losing the women he loved to her father’s war. She sang of her loss, her journey to find him. Grosilge watched the scene riveted until its close. Cyrdrak tried to pay attention to the actors but he kept most of his attention on the goblin to see what it would do. Her eyes never leaving the stage, she slid from her chair and moved as if in a trance towards the stage and music, humming under her breath. He followed, mindful of the daggers in his belt. When the music ceased, the creature’s body was overcome with a deep sigh. “Wunderbar…” she breathed. “It was so good! I loved the part where he screamed so loud because he was so ….” she struggled with her common and settled on a word in a language Cyrdrak didn’t understand. “She could use some work… It’s like….she doesn’t really even love him…” Cyrdrak considered her. “Could you do better-” “Of course!” Moving surprisingly fast for just a rotund creature, she hurried to the stage stairs and scrambled up. Ilya screamed before the goblin could touch her and jumped back. Grosilge, no stranger to the stage from her time with Dizzy, stood in the center and took a deep breath. “I was falling, down into the shadow, of our bitter memories. The last kiss we shared was bliss. My destiny? Was it to never love you again? I refused my father and that fate! My heart called forever to yours, my love. I saw you in my dreams, my love! No matter the distance, I would be yours!” She sang, her slightly husky voice clear and emotive. She badly wanted to move to the music but when she made a few steps, she found it hard to keep up the intensity so she settled on moving her hands and arms which caused less strain. As the last notes fell, she inhaled and pointed back to Ilya “… And ZAT…is how you sing of love lost!” She grinned and winked. “So… Let’s talk about my vision, ya?” ▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄ Cyrdrak flipped the pages in disbelief. The goblin, Grosilge, Queen of the Sandpoint Goblins, was seated across from him drinking stale tea and eating leftover cheese rinds. She watched him over her mug. He tried to keep his expression neutral but at times found himself smiling at the ambition he saw on the page. “This…” He closed the book and frowned. “Is impossible! You’ll never be able to get this organized. The costumes alone-” Grosilge banged her mug on the desk, spilling cold tea. “I can handle ze costumes and ze dancing! I just need time unt cloths!” Cyrdrak shook his head. “No one will come see a goblin production, Grosilge. The attack on Sandpoint, the murders, everyone will be too afraid.” “But, zey’ll come! Zey came to see my dancing in Magnimar. Besides, everyone knows me here unt-” The handsome bard shook his head and waved his hand dismissively. He stood, taking the book in his hand and flipping through it again. “It’s impossible, I’m telling you. You’ll never be able to coordinate the goblins for the second act!” Grosilge huffed, squeezing the mug in her hand. “I CAN!” she stressed. “I just-” “No,” Cyrdrak said with finality. “I can’t go along with this and put the name Cyrdrak Drokkus on this catastrophe. Maybe if you could convince enough people to be your patron without my help…” he looked at her sidelong to see how she was biting his offer. Her cheeks were flushed with frustration turning them a dirty brown and making her freckles stand out almost angrily. He red eyes followed him as he paced and he wondered if she would come over the desk and attack, but she never did, though he thought he heard the mug crack under her grip. “Vat…” she began carefully. “…is a patron?” “Someone with money,” he began, flipping his hand. “Someone willing to help you pay for your creative ideas. Preferrably also someone with power to make things happen. I suppose you had someone like this in Magnimar.” She thought. Dizzy organized her shows and costumes but there was that woman with the dark hair that was always throwing around coins for this or that. She seemed to have the real power. Grosilge, for being queen, did not have much in the way of coins. She hissed quietly. Vrinn was great with coins. No, she would have to manage without him. “So,” she began slowly, “If I can get patrons, you vill give me my vision?” Drokkus shrugged. "I will consider your vision. You’ll also have to prove that you can get me goblin actors which, " he stressed holding up a finger, “means they won’t fight, bite, or strike,” he rhymed counting off the offenses on jeweled fingers. “Do that and I might do more than consider your vision.” Grosilge nodded pushed the cup toward the human theater owner. She gave him a defiant glare and stood up in her chair so that she could lean towards him on the desk. She inhaled and sang, Ve can’t lose because we can choose. Let’s go forward to our future, people truly do~o Vhat they choose. So vhy don’t we do something Make the gods go crazy unt open ze skies? Ve’ll catch ze stars unt moons if ve choose And if they stop us ve’ll go crazy crazy until zey Let us choose Ve von’t lose! So let’s love unt die under fire skies! She jumped down off the chair and waddled determinedly out of the door. A slow smile grew on his face as he looked down at the book of art. Even if she didn’t get patrons, her ideas – her vision – would fill the seats of his theater. He was already casting the parts…
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Day 7 - Bist du mein Patron sein? Grosilge waddled up the stairs to the Kaijitsu Manor with a list of names. Top of the list - "Vrinn Mutter". She didn't knock on the door because it was technically her house they were squatting in. It was early in the day and so the house was mostly still. Kandi was up however, reading a book, in the sitting room. A steaming cup was on the low table in front of the couch. She looked up at Grosilge and smiled.  "Hey, Sug'..." she greeted with her calm, quiet voice. "What you here fer this early?" The goblin waddled over, still wearing the yellow silk from Vrinn like a wrap or toga. It was the most comfortable thing she owned. "Gut sein, Kandi. I'm looking for Vrinn's mutter. She's here, ja?" Kandi nodded and put down her book. Kandi was older than the other prostitutes and yet she still looked young. Her hair dark brown with a single streak of bright red in the front. She looked a lot like Ameiko with her almond shaped brown eyes and lightly tanned skinned. She was regal in her bearing, commanding of respect without being intimidating. She was one of the more expensive girls and very popular.  "She's in the back garden. Does exercises every morning," she said in her Varisian drawl. Grosilge sometimes wondered why Kandi and Ameriko didn't sound the same but Anna often explained that sometimes the best way to be accepted was to sound the same. Perhaps Kandi wanted to be accepted where Ameiko did not... Gildie nodded and sighed. "I'll go get her, Sug. You look near to popping. Sit. Rest," she commanded. Kandi didn't wait to get up and passed her mug of tea to Gildie. "Be right back." The goblin ground her teeth a little. Being pregnant meant that a lot of people were suddenly deciding a lot of things for her and she was starting to resent it. Still, she didn't  want to walk anymore. He feet and back were in pain almost constantly, so she begrudgingly pulled a few soft pillows off the the couch and sat on the floor at the little table. The tea tasted like flowers so wince and poured the brew into a nearby potted tree. A familiar tinkle and then the rough tongue of Moetrhauer on the back of her head, let her know that her cat had come to greet her. She grinned and turned hugging the big lynx. "Vhere are you been! I need to ride you, you doof katt." Moetrhauer purred loudly and headbutted her as he laid down. The cat couldn't be trusted to not hunt the young goblins at the Glassworks and so was kept with the girls of the Pixie's Kitten as a companion. He was incredibly well fed. "Queen Grosilge," Vinadea said by way of greeting. She lightly dressed in black training clothes, her hands wrapped and hair pulled back in  a ponytail. Gildie stood up hurried and batted away a giant white paw from her lynx. She cleared her throat. "Uh...Hey." She winced. "Okay, hold on." She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Why hello, Frinn's mutter. I am here today to be talking to you about, um...helping me vith a zhing..." The elf's expression did not change as she looked at the goblin. Moetrhauer grabbed Gildie in his paws, purring and pulled her down. "ACH! Katt! Stopp!" Vinadea gave three short whistles and Moetrhauer simultaneously released Grosilge and bounded over to her side, looking up at her expectantly. She reached down and scratched him under his chin. "Moetrhauer, Absuchen." The lynx turned and bounded away and out the open back door." Grosilge's jaw was slack with astonishment. "Vhaaaaaaaaaaat?!" She scrambled up and towards the doorway Vinadea occupied. The back way to the garden was open and she just caught sight of a white hindpaw in full trot. "You-! He-! He listened! HOW!" Grosilge looked up at Vinadea. The elven woman walked down the few steps into the sitting room and sat on the floor with grace that even Moetrhauer did not have. She barely made a sound the entire time, even with booted feet. "That can wait. Sit with me, Your Highness, and tell me what you need," Vinadea said motioning to the pillows Grosilge had been occupying. The goblin queen complied. Still astonished with Vinadea's ability to command the lazy and exotic giant cat, that up until this point only knew the words "Chicken" and "Milk" with any consistency, Grosilge blurted out. "I vant to put on a play! A play about Sandpoint! I need patrons to help me pay for it, zo'. Drokkus said so." Vinadea tilted her head. "Drokkus?" "The big fancy zeat'er guy. Blonde, cute. Not Frinn cute but like human cute," she corrected. "He z'inks I'm crazy." Vinadea nodded appraisingly and drummed her fingers lightly on the table. "How much do you need?" Grosilge opened her mouth but no words came out. She didn't know. She didn't know! Dizzy handled all of that before! She groaned and let her forehead hit the table. "I don't knooooow! I'm such a doof! Doof!" She banged her head again. Vinadea's warm hand rested on the back of her head. Grosilge looked up. Vinadea had a small smile. "...It's hard to be a goblin in a world men," she began, speaking almost to herself. "You have made an odd choice to leave a world that was simple - violent, but simple - to come to a world that is complex, many times contradictory and strange. I wondered why. I really struggled with it but what I see in you, the cleric, the goblin guards, and your errant knight is a strange characteristic in your kind; you're all dauntless. Do you know what the means?" The Queen tilted her head. "Stupid?" The elf almost let herself laugh. "Sometimes. It means fearless determination. You all want  to be here so badly you'll make it work like a tree determined to grow from a small crack in the mountainside. It's not the ideal place for you to be but the harsh environment does not deter you." Grosilge stared at Vinadea, trying hard to understand what the elf was saying. It seemed like she was trying to be kind, at least. "My grandchildren will have this quality, I think, which is good because the world will be unkind to them. I don't know what they will look like or how they will but so we will have to make sure that the environment they are brought into let's them be -" "Mensch," Gildie interjected firmly. "Zey'll be people. Good people. Like Miro, Synovia, ze Chief Firehead, and Sheriff Seriousface." Gildie stood up with the help of the table and planted her hands on the wooden surface as she glared not at Vinadea but through her. "I have to put on z'is play. Everyone has to understand vhat's in ze hearts of mein people. Vhat's in everyone's hearts!" Vinadea looked at her quietly. "Dauntless." Vinadea fingered the yellow silk Gildie wore. "Grosilge, Queen. You have a longer road to travel than you may suspect. I will help you for the sake of my son and his children. So I will say this, before you can gain the patrons you will need, there is still much you must do be a good queen for your people."  "I need a council of adfisors," Grosilge blurted, recalling Imahnee's words. Vinadea nodded. "I would ask others of your kind. Chunder is already a spiritual leader and indeed he and the Mayor have convinced a dozen goblins to be follow Sarenrae's light..." she hesitated. "Of a fashion," she added dubiously. "You will need more goblins to turn away from Lamashtu." Grosilge stared at her intently, her red eyes like twin beads of glass. It was unsettling to see intellect on a goblin's face. "You'll need someone to uphold laws. Someone to help with money. Someone to help with foreign affairs and working with other races. These at least will allow you to be a beacon of power. These advisors will answer only to you and seek your guidance." Grosilge nodded and seemed to think. "If I do z'is, you vill be my patron, ja?" Vinadea elevated her chin and peered at Gildie. Goblins always seemed driven by some kind of incentive they could gain. Perhaps it was because their lives were so short that they couldn't see past a few moments. She didn't like to be pinned to such a creature's whims, however, Grosilge seemed to genuinely wish to do what was right and uniquely capable. "I will." ---------------------------------------------- "Lamashtu is the mother!" A goblin shouted. He was missing part of his jaw and so he drooled constantly. He was one of the newer goblins, a Birdcruncher that had heard the rumors after seeing Scummer and Grosgamort on patrol. He was aggressive, he stole, and was trying to dominate the other goblins. Now he had come to the service to disrupt it. The Dawn Flower service was on the beach near Bobole's old cave turned temple. It happened sometimes at dawn but usually it happened whenever Chunder could be bothered to drag the goblins to gather all in one place without fighting. Today, 5 of the 13 converts were in attendance and it was nearly mid-day. Scummer was one though Chunder was uncertain he understood anything that was said. Fortunately, Chief Firehead was also in attendance so he had something in the way of protection. "Lamashtu is the mother and she made us strong! We don't need the weak longshank gods. We should be eating them, biting them, snapping their necks," she slavered. A few goblins seemed stirred, beginning to growl sympathetically. Chunder shook his head.  He knocked his knobbed staff against the rocks, loudly. "Then go. Go back to the tribes where you get bitten, eaten and your own necks snapped. I have food, good beds, good dens, and I will live to be 10,000 days. No one has to stay, all are free to leave." He looked over the crowd. Some goblins had  left to go back to their tribes. Only one returned a few days later, half dead. He was healed by Father Zantus and became one of Chunder's most devout. He looked at the goblin, Gutrunt, and he shook his head and stood up. "The goblins outside, our brethren," he began with a snarl. "They say Lamashtu is mother but does she care if we die? Does make us strong when so many longshanks kill us?" The Birdcruncher puffed out his chest. "Only the weak ones die!" "Then name a 10,000 day goblin! Name one!" Everyone looked to the Birdcruncher. He tried to think but growled in frustration. "To die fighting is a good death!" Gutrunt moved around the crowed. Everyone tensed as it seemed it would come to blows. "I've seen goblin's die in their sleep, when another bashed in his head for leg of rat! That is no good death." Gutrunt looked at the other goblins. "Who here has a full belly and sleeps with one leg against the wall? Who here has more shiny things than they have ever seen and gains more and more shiny things and never has to slit a throat or worry that their throats will be slit?" Chunder intervened. "Stabbins of Birdcruncher. You say 'weak' and you say 'Lamashtu'. But the goblins of Sandpoint are strong. We have more than the Birdcrunchers, more than the Seven Tooth and even more than The Thistletops. If any clan attacks us, we have the hottest fires and mightiest fighters." He motioned to Scummer. Gulo's training made even simple Scummer twice as fit as many goblin chiefs. "Except Sarenrae's light and stay. If you walk with the Mother of Monsters, you will get bit."  At this, all the goblins in the congregation began to growl like dogs. Stabbins recoiled instantly at the sound. He backed away and scowled before running. Gutrunt turned back to Chunder and nodded. "I'll make sure the gristlewad stays gone. Gut sein, Chunder."  "Gut sein, Gutrunt." The rest of the service was spent as usual - explaining in detail what was good, what was not good, what was bad, what was not bad, and what Bobole would do. He was particularly stumped by the question of whether or not sleep biting was bad or just not good. Chief Firehead interjected with the reminder that if one was not sure if something was bad or not that they should just say sorry and cover their bases.This was accepted by the congregation. At the end of the service, Chief Firehead escorted Chunder back to the cathedral. He liked walking with her. She talked, bought him food most times, and made sure no one bothered him. His life as the voice of the Dawn Flower Clan was a pain sometimes but it came with surprising perks. He got his own den in the cathedral, a nice small stone room that used to hold old broken furniture. Not it had a furnace, broken furniture, and no one came to bother him. If he needed a longshank acolyte to do something, he just asked and they did it. He got all the leftovers and bones he wanted and, as Gutrunt mentioned, he never feared for his life or belongings. It was like being a chief without all the annoying challenges for dominance. As they reached the Cathedral, he saw Grosilge sitting on the steps. She had a bright yellow shirt under a grey wool dress and a cloak of rabbit fur. "Gut sein, Grosilge," he greeted, eyeing her curiously. "You look ridiculous." Grosilge struggled to her feet and glared at him. "I know but when you're this pregnant and everything hurts you where whatever the elf lady says," she responded cryptically. "Anyway, I need you to be my advisor on gods and shit." The mayor tilted her head. "Grosilge, first, you don't look ridiculous, you look nice," she nudge Chunder with her foot. He balked and rolled his eyes. "Secondly, which elf lady?" "Vinadea. Frinn's mom," she responded in common. "Did you guys just finish bonking heads again?" Mayor Deverin looked shocked, "That's not all we do, Grosilge! We guide the goblins of Sandpoint to see the Dawn Flower's light and you would know that if you-" Grosilge shook her head and started up the steps. "Nein." Chunder smirked and patted Kendra's leg as she followed his queen. Kendra sighed and followed them both. "Anyway," Grosilge began. "I need two z'ings. One, I need you," she pointed to Chunder, "to be my advisor about gods and shit." "Grosilge!" "And you," Grosilge pointed to the mayor who looked aghast, "I need to be my patron for mein play. Not now but after I figure out being a good queen, ja."Kendra looked confused. Sighing, the Queen explained. She told them about her play, Cyrdrak's ultimatum, and Imahnee's idea for a council. She told them about Vinadea's advice, her idea for the council, and her plans for Sandpoint's goblins. Chunder shook his head. "It's crazy. It'll never work." The mayor clasped her hands together gleefully and practically squealed as she dropped to her knees before Grosilge. "Queen Grosilge von Brektherz, your idea is  crazy. It's crazy and I love it and yes, Chunder and I will help you!" The goblin priest look at her incredulously! "VHAT?!" The sound resounded off the cathedral walls.
Day 9 - Was ist drin für mich ? Grosilge stared across the table from Roxreez, who glared back. Roxreez was everything ideal about a goblin female. He mouth was full of pointy, gleaming teeth. Scars covered arms full of taut muscle and sinew. Her eyes were small, beady, and full of malice. She was confident, feared, and as a recent contest of Kan Ich Dich Getroffen, undeniably deadly. The hefty female from Mosswood didn't see it coming...especially since she was blindfolded. They sat across from each other in the Rusty Dragon with a roasted sheep's head. One smoky eye was rolled up towards the ceiling, the other was on the plat staring blankly at Grosilge. Roxreez crossed her arms. Determinedly not partaking. Grosilge's stomach roiled; her anxiety was upsetting her and her pups. "This was a bad idea. Roxreez looks pissed," Imahnee whispered from the kitchen. Ameiko chopped a rutabaga, her back turned to the door. Naomee drank some tea as she rested. She had volunteered her services around Sandpoint and had seen much of the goblin squad though she did not speak with them directly. When Imahnee told her that Grosilge requested a meeting between she and Roxreez, she volunteered to be a peacemaker should conflict arise. Grady was there to be a peacemaker of a different kind. "Roxreez always looks pissed," Grady intoned. "It's called her face." Kaiser and Helga chortled. All three were playing Plundern unt Hungersnot, they played with beans and cards, instead of the traditional fists, teeth, weapons and bits of humans and animals after a raid. It wasn't the same, Kaiser had noted, as when he was a child. Grady assured him that this version would keep him on the right side of the law. "It's just not the same." In spite of this, he was winning a nice pile of beans. Grosilge opened her mouth to speak but Roxreez interrupted. "Why am I here, Queen of Nothing?" she spat in goblin. "I have been pulled from very important patrol worked." This was a lie. Imahnee and Grady knew it was a lie. Grady shook his head at Imahnee's incredulous look. The queen closed her eyes and tried to start over but Roxreez cut her off again. "Herr Vrinn and I are lovers, you know. He hired me for," she hesitated. "Scouting and then he fell in love because I'm useful . So what do you do, Bitch who sings like a bird?" Roxreez leaned back and poked her taloned finger in the head of the sheep, spearing the eye. She popped it in her mouth triumphantly. Grosilge's cheeks flushed ruddy as her blood boiled to the surface. "His cock was-" "I want to fight you. Just you and just me," Grosilge snapped. "And when I win, you will serve me as my advisor." Roxreez's eye grew with mad delight. She stood in her chair grinning, vitreous from the eye dribbling won her chin between her teeth. "And when you lose?" " You will be queen and I will leave Sandpoint...forever." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Vrinn will kill me if you go through this," Grady pleaded with Grosilge. They stood in front of the Rusty Dragon. Ameriko glared from the door but she had not been able to convince Grosilge agains this and she had drawn a crowd with her yelling. "He'll kill everyone," Imahnee corrected. Naomee volunteered to find the mayor and the sherriff. She was certain that there was a law against dueling with a pregnant woman and if there wasn't, there should be and she would insist that the law was in place to stop the whole affair. Helga sent to fetch Hannah, not because she was a good healer and midwife but because she bore a convincing fury and voice of reason. Kaiser got to stay and watch the duel because he won Plundern unt Hungersnot. He was the only one looking forward to the impending slaughter. Grosilge stood several yards from Roxreez "She von't listen to me if she thinks I'm weichenbauch. I have to show her I'm strong." Imahnee stopped in front of her. "And what if she hurts your children growing inside you?!  Vrinn would never stand for this!" "Let stinking beasts fight," Davrien Hosk spat. "If the ugly one guts the pregnant one, she'd be doing this town a fair favor." In a flash Grady, unslung his bow, knocked and arrow and fired it at Hosk. A former ranger himself, Hosk reached for his dagger but found his head an inch from Grady's still vibrating arrow.  Grady still on one knee, red hair pulled back, glared at Hosk. "Not just goblins what can duel, Davrien. And only one of us has trained for a month straight with Shalelu Andosana." Hosk pulled the arrow out and threw it to the ground. "And yet you ain't learned a god damned thing what's important..." The two men locked gazes. Imahnee put his hand on his head. It was getting out of control. He could see money exchanging hands and people began loud conversations about "to the death" and "goblin honor fights". And underground fighting ring was not something Sandpoint needed. "Desna guide us, fools." Roxreez spun the sword deftly in her hands. "Ready, Queen of maggots? Soon you'll have a whole court of servants feasting on your rotten body." Grosilge took a deep breath, and unclasped the rabbit fur cloak. Yellow silk was wrapped around her left arm and when she raise her arm parallel, humming, the ribbon unfurled with a flourish a guitar like Mein Axe appeared and floated near Grosilge. The crowd made hushed noises of awe. She nodded and Roxreez didn't hesitate dashing forward. "NO!" Imahnee slammed down his sword but Roxreez rolled around it and stabbed at Grosilge, finding that the latter wasn't in the place she thought and her sword slipped through thin air. Grosilge was a few inches away, looking at Roxreez. " I had everything, a war and dream. One day, a storm came and washed away all but my screams,"  she sang slowly and in haunted tones. Roxreez snarled and swung her sword again cutting Grosilge's arm this time. Blood stained the yellow silk of her sleeve. Ameiko covered her mouth. " And all I need, is one more swing at death!"  Roxreez chased her and swung again, missing the disjointed image of Grosilge. She stepped back to assess her strategy. "I'm left here when their ghosts are haunting, left with a war against myself and sorrow. I loss and I pray that you will understand, why the sun should set on me.. ."  "I DON'T CARE ABOUT THIS SONG!" Roxreez dashed back in and hit Grosilge's leg, cutting through wool dress and into her thigh. Grosilge stumbled " I don't think I'm worth all your trouble."  Emboldened, the fighter thrust getting Grosilge's shoulder. She sneered and Grosigle grabbed her hand. "O ne swing is all I need, one more chance to be, the hero you need! " Roxreez blinked and Synovia's sword ran mate through and then cleaved through her brother and his friend. She loomed tall and Roxreez was small. Very small. She ran. Thistle tore at her but she ran because she was small and afraid! Roxreez blink and back away from Grosilge, pulling the sword out. "No...It didn't run!" she lied and dashed back at Grosilge and missed. "She was killing everything!" She snarled. Grosilge reached out her good hand to Roxreez. " One swing. One dream. One thing I could do to change everything. I'd win you back easily. " Roxreez felt her heart drop to her knees and her whole body go cold. Grief. Loss. The pain rushed over her and she felt her eyes dripping. She dropped her sword and furiously wiped her face. "Stop it! Stop what you're doing to me!" Grosilge limped over to sword and picked it up dragging it behind her. "I can make you feel like this whenever I want, doof," Grosilge said softly. "Every bad memory, the crushing pain in your chest, and worse... much worse. " The sheriff burst through the crowd and opened his mouth to speak but stopped. "Whether I'm here or not, the memory of your pain will be the legend I spread. You'll have to kill me, Roxreez." She dropped the sword and Roxreez, still sobbing picked it up and swung, hitting Grosilge  in the chest."  Everyone gasped but the point didn't pierce. Roxreez blinked and tried to slash at Grosilge who barely moved. The blade hit with a dull 'wump'. "See who is a soft belly now, Roxreez." Gildie grabbed the blade and a sharp piercing whine split the air and blade shattered. "I'll see you tomorrow at the council meeting, Roxreez. Meet me at the mayor's after the your patrol." Gildie began to limp away but Imahnee and Grady rushed forward to help her into the Rusty Dragon. "That was nuts!" Grady snapped staunching the bleeding. "Downright crazier than a chicken at a fox's ball! AND STUPID!"  Grosilge let them fuss over her. "Ja...but, I'm going to be a Vandiir one day and crazy and stupid is our specialty." -------------------------------------------------------------------------- An hour later, Grosilge winced as the spell delaying her pain wore off. Downstairs, loud voices of patrons and ...Hannah. The elf nurse was... She slid off the bed with a grunt and waddled to the door. Every other word was 'feck' or 'feckin'' or "for feck's sake". Grosilge nodded opened the door a crack. Grady looked down at her and glared.  "Back. In. Bed," he ordered. His countenance softened. "For feck's sake," he added with a smirk. Gildie smiled.  "I have one more z'ing I'd like to do today..." She raised her hand before he could protest. "I vant to ask Rynshinn a favor...Could you ask her to be my patron for mein play? I'll buy all my costume stuff from her, ja?"  "- WHICH LEADS ME TO ANUDDER THING!" Hannah seethed. Grady grimaced involuntarily.  He slipped into the room with Grosilge and shut the door. "If I leave this door for even a second, that elf will skin me, tan my hide, and use the leather to flog  my soul. When Imahnee comes up from his tongue lashing, I'll escape mine by running your errand. Square?" "Square? Vhat the fuck are you talking about square? Vhat's wrong viss circles and vhy are you talking shapes anyvay?" He put a hand over her mouth. "Just...okay, Gildie. Okay." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The door to Vandiir Valuables clinked as the door hit the tiny bell above it when it opened. A young half-elf entered. He was handsome and rugged with bright blue eyes and silvery blonde hair. He dressed in a crisp white shirt and grey vest and breeches. A Magnimar style from Naos. Wheel narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Hey," he said shortly. The half-elf walked around admired the jewelry as he approached the counter.He smelled of money. That is to say he smelled of expensive cologne and brandy. Wheel fingered the dagger behind the counter, nervously and stared at the half-elf. "Want something?" The half-elf rubbed his beard and and shoved his hands in his pockets and grinned. "Why young fella, I reckon I would like something, if you don't mind obligin' me." Wheel narrowed his eyes more. The half-elf tilted his head. "Malcom Hyram Andalysius the Third son of a Fifth son of a Fourth son and I heard by way of grapevine and gossip that ya'll was lookin' for what we call in the big city..." he paused for dramatic effect. "A manager." Wheel pulled out the dagger and threw it. Malcolm tilted his head and let it whizz pass and hit the door jam. He rocked on his heels and toes. "I guess that means, I got to the interview stage?"