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The Straggler’s Last Chance Tavern and Casino – Telaseer – Kingdom of Transgracia – Nexus. Local Time: 1540

Apprentice Ral Altaria Del Narya Sey Antisonzia the Second

A tavern.

A bar.

A casino.

A wretched hive of scum and villainy—

—of debauchery and sin.

… 

Though sin was perhaps a bit debatable depending on the circles.

But I digress.

This tavern. This bar. This casino where lives were made and lost, all with a roll of the dice and the spin of a turntable…

It was in such places — these wretched undersocieties — where I might find respite in this seemingly endless search.

Respite how, one may ask?

In what fashion could such an uncouth establishment provide any solace that the polite and civil world could not?

“Ahem.” I coughed once, hiding beneath a cloak of questionable make and even more questionable grime, all in order to blend in with these lowlife fools.

“Ahem.” I coughed again, trying but failing to garner the barkeep’s attention.

“A-HEM.” I did it again, this time finally making myself heard.

Ah, yes. The three coughs. A common ‘entry’ token into these parts. These people only speak in hushed riddles… the scum they are.

“Yeah? Whatcha want?”

“A shot of wake-up elixir, if you wouldn’t mind.” I spoke in a hushed yet gruff accent, my time on the road and the streets over what felt like years now having since shaped me into someone more wizened to the ways of the peasantry. “And make it a double.” 

The elven barkeep eyed me up and down, sizing me for my worthiness of a drink, which was my primary goal for the afternoon.

These were made stronger than any I’d experienced on the road to date, second only to the Academy’s everlasting elixirs…

“Ye can’t put two shots in a single glass, ya dumbass.” The barkeep finally responded, laughing and causing that potbelly of his to jolt up and down, completely desecrating the elven form in the process.

“I meant double the order, you, you… rapscallion!” I managed out with indignant vitriol, only to garner a confused, then eventually dismissive, glare from the man.

“Then it’d be double. Not a double, idiot. A double means ya wanna double the shit in a glass. Haven’t ye ever been t’a bar before?”

The few patrons beside us began turning their eyes in my direction but just as quickly shrugged in tired chuckles and giggles.

“Just… do as I say… I’ve had a long week and I’d rather not—”

“Yeah yeah yeah, I’ve heard it a million times, chum. Two wake-ups comin’ right up.”

I sighed and nodded in silent acceptance… a motion I’d learned now over the course of the week.

There was a… certain importance to keeping a ‘low profile,’ as many adventurers I’d met along my journey had called it.

It was perhaps the reason why both that infernal rule-breaking bridge-crosser and her stupid mutt had managed to evade me so effortlessly.

They were operating by commoner’s tactics by ensuring they performed everything unannounced, exiting and entering the stage without the pomp and circumstance otherwise expected of the noble and the highborn.

It was so fitting too, considering their heritages.

But I digress.

It was now my turn to adopt such a performance.

And indeed, I had to reiterate to myself and to all who may ask that this is simply just that — a performance.

For such a role, such a… facade was oh so beneath me.

But this would be the only way I could ever hope to catch up with the pair. As they would be expecting someone else, perhaps. But not anymore.

I would practice the very subtleties they’d mastered, the lives lived in the dark as they seem to both thrive in.

For only in invisibility will I be able to find those who had oh so effortlessly managed to make entrance and departure without ever raising a single—

SLAM!

The front doors swung open, hitting the half-broken doorstoppers to their respective sides and causing all eyes below to stare up at the street-level entrance.

A stream of light shone through, illuminating the otherwise perpetually darkened state of this dreary establishment, setting the stage for an almost ethereal entrance of two blurry figures.

Figures… which soon became clear after a mere moment of adjusting my gaze. 

As there, at the foot of the doorway, stood two larger-than-life elvenform silhouettes.

A confident, stoic, and dare I say dashing half-armored lupinor with a masterfully tailored traveler’s cloak barely hiding the shiny armor and rich tunics beneath its voluminous heft… and an imposing fully kitted knight wrapped in sashes, cloaks, and all the braces required to keep said fabrics held tight.

The pair’s respective over-capes fluttered magnificently in the winds of the street behind them before they finally came to a stop with another resonant SLAM of both doors and a clearing of one of their throats.

“Ahem. So… this here’s a casino, right?” The knight spoke, her voice echoing throughout the cavernous cellar-turned-hostelry with a familiarity. It was Booker.

“Yeah?” The barkeep plodded towards her, climbing up the stairs with his goons. “What’s it to ya?” He spoke with that ridiculous Transgracian drawl.

“Oh, cool! We’ve been looking for one since we just cleared house…” She paused before the mercenary prince opened a bag for the less-than-virtuous proprietor’s eyes.

Eyes… which swelled up several sizes the moment he gazed inside of it.

“What’s the house gratuity here?” The mercenary prince questioned.

“Same as everywhere’s. One per hundred.” The elf responded, reaching for a magnifying glass inside one of his apron pouches.

The pair turned to one another, the prince smiling a mercenary’s grin.

“How much to open a private room?” He asked promptly.

“Nah’room’s here, am afraid. Just a private table, o’er thereabouts.” The elven barkeep pointed to the middle of the room, where a crowd was quickly gathering.

“Private?” The prince reiterated.

“Aye, closed game.” The elf nodded deeply.

“Cost?” He hammered once more.

“Nah’price. Just make it an entertaining one, and maybe tip the dealer sum, if ya feeling it. Though we keep it fair hereabouts, a copper’a gold for the tips at minimum.”

The unruly pair — these gods amidst ruffians — turned to one another and nodded before turning back to the elf in question.

“You’ve got yourself a deal. Get the dealer up here, and we’ll talk shop.”

“Aye.” The elf nodded, clearing his throat loudly for all to hear whilst turning back to the gambling hall. “OY RASSIE, GET UP ‘ERE. WE GOT SOME HIGH ROLLERS!” He hollered at the top of his lungs, garnering the attention of not just all his employees but the patrons too.

A small kobold quickly scrambled up, scampering on all fours before reaching the top of the stairs with a dealer’s hat barely hanging on to one of his horns.

“What can I do ya for, honored sirs and madams?” He practically squeaked out.

“Heaven and Hell.” The mercenary prince responded promptly. “Can ya do half a minute a play?”

The kobold narrowed his eyes before letting out a knowing grin. “Heh… hehheheheheheheheheh… ahhh yes, yes, yes, yes. Yes, Rassie can do… Rassie can do faster if honored sirs and madams wishes to expespesidse.”

It’s expedite, you uncultured swine! I grumbled to myself internally, my face twitching not just at the wretchedly broken grammar but adversely reacting to the maligned, money-merry miscreants.

“Let’s just keep it at half’a’minute, Rassie. We’re not in any rush.” The prince smiled toothily.

“Yes, yes. Rassie can do. Rassie… will have fun today!” The kobold cackled wildly, more reminiscent of a gremlin than his actual heritage.

What followed next was another scamper as he made his way up what appeared to be the tattered riggings of a ship — I’d at first assumed was there just for decoration — before reaching the rafters of this underground den.

“LADIES AND GENTS, CREATURES OF ALL TYPES AND FORMS, LEND ME YER EARHOLES!” He screamed. “IT’S TIME TO GO…” He paused for dramatic effect as both the prince and the cadet stepped forward, leaning against the small outcropping’s railings. 

“GAAAAMMMBLLIIIINNGGGGGGG!!” They all yelled at once.

What followed next was my poor headache reaching its peak, as hoots, hollers, yells, and drunken cries all went out, as the ‘show’ was now well underway.

…

So much for subtlety Ral Altaria Del Narya Sey Antisonzia the Second…

3 Days Prior

The Forests of Ruvina – Kingdom of Transgracia – Nexus. Local Time: 1430

Vicini Lorsi

I was here to vie for power.

I was sent for reasons seen universally and twice over.

I’d made my calculations and wagered within reason.

But in the words of the ancients, there were no half-rights in wagers.

Lord Ping was my brazen gamble, and indeed, through him I was proven half-right.

His presence was strong.

His power was palpable.

But it was in these two strengths that my weaknesses showed.

I was a born-and-bred diplomat, and he a zealot.

And zealots? 

Well…

Zealots rarely spoke in the same language, let alone dialect.

This meant that my strengths were worthless, and my aims for influence… as untenable as Ping’s hopes for seeing reason.

Pulse.

Pulse.

Pulse.

But all of that was behind me now.

Pulse.

Pulse.

Pulse.

All of that… as recent as it was and as palpable as it was — because of course it was — simply didn’t matter here.

Pulse.

Pulse.

Pulse.

Here… in this space… was a symphony playing at a different tempo. A beat measured not in weeks, months, or years, but millennia; a rhythm taking untold eons to play out. 

My life, my aims, my ambitions, and my strife — all of it faded into the distance, joining the ranks of the bristling winds that rose and fell as rhythmically as a flickering flame.

It was strange, jarring even. If it wasn’t so… obvious in communion.

Because from the instant I’d touched her roots, joined her chorus, and placed myself amidst one of an innumerable branches, did I truly question myself on something so obvious, so self-evident, so… plain and inescapable: why?

Why was I doing this?

Why, in my mortal coil measured in centuries, was I even here?

My seconds weren’t counted in years, my thoughts did not stretch into eternity, my mind was constrained, and my window into the world: fixed.

Why then, was I spending it all, each precious second, every valuable moment… in willful suffering?

Why…

Why did magic even have to—

I felt a tug.

Then a gentle weave, like a thread piercing my very heart.

A sharp pain pierced through my soul.

And then… I saw it.

The whole forest pulsed in rhythmic beauty. Leylines of random elegance organized now into… clear and dissectable patterns.

What had previously been a tangled mess now more resembled the thoughtful designs of a spiderweb. Every line and every connection was done with purpose; no effort was expended without reason or gain.

Throughout it I could feel the pulses, the tiny and seemingly distant movements of millions of creatures inhabiting it without acknowledging the presence of this titan that provided shade and shelter.

And within it, deep within its core, I could see…

Me.

A wisp of a silhouette knelt down, neck bowed, prostrating itself to a god in all but name.

This… this is how men like us pray*, Vicini.* 

I heard my uncle’s voice echoing in the distance of my own memories this time.

You’ll understand once you’ve made pilgrimage, once you set foot on the soil of truly old growth.

I could feel it now.

I could see it.

I could, for the very first time, understand.

And because of that — indeed because of all of this — did I finally feel something I hadn’t felt since stepping through that portal into the Academy.

Fulfillment.

Fulfillment alongside honor, pride, and just about every other ego-tickling descriptor under the sun.

But beyond that, distilled and condensed and rising above these petty and fleeting aspirations… I was struck with humility.

I felt, as any druid would in my shoes, blessed.

Blessed that I’d arrived in a place far older than any other.

Blessed that I’d not only arrived here but was granted entry into a space where the growths of old still stood strong.

And without a doubt… I felt blessed for being able, for being allowed not by any worldly authorities, but by the ultimate authority of all… to commune in her presence.

I breathed in.

And in that single breath, I felt the lungs of a great and all-encompassing beast inhale along with me.

“The trees were a realm’s lungs!” My uncle would say.

And I could see now what he meant.

I… lingered for a moment more.

Then another.

I floated listlessly, aimlessly, in the grand internal tapestry that was the forest.

And it was there, that I finally found peac—

“LORSI!” 

THUMP!

I felt myself reeling, as if grappled and ripped down from the heights of an aethraship.

My gut twisted.

And then I felt my whole body tumbling to the grassy forest floor. 

Leypull returned, and so did weight, and awareness, and the all-present sensation of my limbs, my torso, my head, and all of this that bound me to a body that I loath—

THWUMP!

I felt a massive blow to my side, the air being pushed out and the abrupt and sudden force that resonated through my entire abdomen.

“I’ve been WAITING for HALF AN HOUR NOW! You said this would take no longer than a minute, ‘scarcely a second,’ in your own words! So where is it?! Where’s the everblooming blossom, Lord Lorsi? Or were you also trying to use your silver tongue to overexaggerate this aspect of your being?”

I felt a burning, a fire growing within me, a hatred for a moment lost that could potentially never be recovered.

My whole body shook as I stood back up with a vigor I didn’t know existed within me.

“You interrupted me, Lord Ping.” I spoke plainly, simply, without any emotive resonance beyond the genuine spite flowing through my veins.