The Vunerian and I were caught in a standoff. My eyes locked onto its beady little black sown-on dots-for-eyes and the rounded little muzzle that kept it in a perpetual look of mouthless contemplation.
My emotions refused to settle, as I was forced to reconcile between the massive cognitive dissonance between the disarmingly adorable orb-of-a-plush that was the Vunerian, and its doppelganger standing incredulously next to .
This forced my eyes to do several double-takes between the inexplicable object of my burning interest, and the comparably life-sized less-cuter version of it forced upon by fate and circumstance.
However, the physical similarities between the two didn’t die down with each cock of my head.
No.
If anything, they only steadily increased.
From the proportions of the stuffed plush, all the way to the color of its fabric, and the shape of its head, and even the little outfit it wore — it was undeniably designed to resemble a Vunerian. The only real difference between this orb and Ilunor, was the addition of a little sewn-on miniature crown two sizes too small for its rounded head.
This bygone conclusion was quickly confird by the tortle proprietor himself; the man taking a mont to address my non sequitur of a question.
“They are indeed plush in form and factor.” He confird, giving a smile yet quirking his brow, almost confused. “It would seem to that my lady has a certain affinity to the top-of-the-pile item in particular?” He gestured towards the Vunerian plush. “These stuffies are indeed quite the coveted collector’s item, Viscount Vunerian in particular being in short supply as of late.” The man paused for a mont, and with a surge of mana radiation, began lowering the plush down from its perch atop of the plush pyramid.
The laid-back hard-sell tactic continued as I was presented with the orb-of-a-Vunerian that was Viscount Vunerian, or, as I was dying to call it… “I think I’ll call him King Kobold.”
This seed to be the last straw as the Vunerian stomped his way between and the tortle, raising an arm towards the plush in the process. “You will do no such thing. His na is Viscount Vunerian, and I will hear no more of this spiteful slander!” He seethed between a soot-filled breath, before turning to the tortle proprietor with an ultimatum. “Shopkeeper. I demand that you return it. The newrealr is clearly not deserving of such a coveted item.”
However, instead of the situation escalating into yet another silent standoff, the opposite quickly transpired. As the shopkeeper began letting out a series of ragged-breathed laughs, completely defusing the Vunerian’s attempt at intensifying the situation.
“I am but a humble shopkeeper, my lord. Withholding an item for purchase, is outside of my authority within the jurisdiction of crown herald lands.” The man replied with an almost faux-piety, as if straddling the line between expectant decorum and his own brand of senile joviality. “It is up to the fair knight, whether she wishes to follow through on my offer.”
This prompted the Vunerian to grumble, turning towards with an expectant glare.
I could practically feel the burning, scathing warnings given off through that gesture alone.
But they were warnings which I would not heed.
“I’ll take it!” I bead out, squishing the plushy tightly between my hands as I could just about make out the soft squishy polyfill and gel-like stuffing within it through my gloves’ haptic feedback; a soft, airy, pathetic sounding squeeeeeeeek being generated in the process.
‘Your worship pleases !’ It squeaked out pathetically.
“It has a fricking voice box?!” I uttered out in excitent, going for another big squeeze!
‘Guards, off with their tails!’
“This is incredible.” I cackled out through an ear-to-ear grin, finding my whole body jittering in the process.
This realization, of course, warranted another big squeeze.
‘Taxes are due! I demand my taxes!’
“Emma… I believe this may just be a tad too much.” Thacea cautioned, gently gesturing to the now-steaming deluxe kobold next to .
Thalmin, however, clearly had other ideas in mind, as he moved up to pat on the shoulder.
“I’m curious to know what manner of muse inspired such a flavorful impression!” He proclaid through a wide-eyed grin.
“ENOUGH!” The Vunerian finally exploded, releasing a continuous flurry of steam from both of his nostrils. “Either forfeit your purchase, or be done with these displays of immature impulsivity!”
I took a mont to once more exchange glances with Ilunor, my hand firmly clenched around the plushie’s belly.
Surprisingly, the ultimatum wouldn’t co to an end by my own hands, but by another, unexpected set of clawed fingers — as Thalmin ca in to gently poke the rounded thing’s belly, generating a prolonged squeeeeeeeek in the process.
‘Fear my ire, beware my wrath!’
“Well what do you know, I think he pulled the words right out of your mouth, Ilunor.” I chuckled lightly, before handing the plush off to the tortle. “I’ll take it!”
“Splendid! I shall have it packaged post-haste.” The man announced, gently handing the plush over to a satyr assistant who’d skittered onto the scene not a few monts after the back and forth began.
With the first knick-knack in tow, I feared what impulse purchases might co next.
Though a part of remained excited for the prospect of Field Cultural Research, as we moved deeper into the store, to the tune of a grumbling Vunerian.
We eventually arrived at a section of the room with what looked to be a sight-seer book perched precariously on a plinth, flanked on three sides with a series of multicolored curtains that radiated a not-so-insignificant amount of mana.
Though sowhat unnerving and looking like it’d be more at ho at so cultish ritual, the display case on the very front of the plinth completely undermined and defused what threatening aura it had. As within this case, were a series of what I could only describe as—
“Are those postcards?” I shot out.
“Indeed they are, newrealr.” The tortle responded, before gesturing to the setup with a venerable smile. “For this — is the imbuer of dreamscapes.” He announced proudly. “An artifice which imbues your likeness upon a predetermined landscape of your choosing, with whichever pose you wish to make at the ti of the imbuent.”
“A false-shard.” Ilunor announced, as if intending to further expand on the tortle’s talking points. “An intentionalfake for that matter. A simple novelty with the intention of providing a fleeting mont of vapid entertainnt to those possessing poor tastes, or simple inclinations.” The Vunerian hrrmphed, turning his nose up at the whole affair.
However, by the ti that he’d finished his tirade and turned back towards the setup, the Vunerian would find both and the rcenary prince already posing behind the plinth — the tortle following suit with what appeared to be a wand in his hands.
The look of disappointnt on Ilunor’s face was imasurable, and I could only imagine if this simple act of ‘poor taste’ was enough to ruin his day.
Regardless of his personal reservations on the magical photo booth, Thalmin and I were downright having fun, as a mutual creative spark seed to arc between us through nothing more than simple knowing glances. This was in spite of the obvious encumbrance in the way.
So with little more than body language, we began vibing, cycling through pose, after pose, after pose — going from simple hand gestures, to parallel arm-raising, all the way to more complex and involved stances that required coordination that ca in the form of just winging it and hoping for the best.
The goofiest and most involved of which, involved what I could only describe as an inverse parallel ‘dab’ that bordered sowhere between a videoga emote and a genuine gym-approved flex.
Though not everything was mindless whimsy, as all the while, the EVI maintained careful overwatch over the ‘chanisms’ of the photobooth.
The plinth and the precariously perched sight-seer book seed to act like a ‘cara’, one that Kathan seed to control with his wand, creating brief surges of mana radiation that were capped off by bright flashes of light seemingly erging from within the curtains themselves.
Following each surge, and after what sounded like the crackling of sizzling pork belly being cooked in a cast iron pan, ca the final product of our mutual whimsy — a postcard, with our silly poses doctored onto it. Interestingly enough, the postcard actually cycled through several of our poses, even going so far as to change the ‘ti of day’ within the background; sort of like a digital photo album. Though despite the obvious changes in ti between each pose, it appeared as if almost all of the backgrounds seed to either remain perpetually cloudy, or lacked any visible specks of starlight within the night sky.
All in all, the photobooth ended up consuming a good fifteen minutes of our lives, though it appeared as if Thacea had fared sowhat better than Ilunor — as the princess actually spent her ti browsing and appraising the hand-made knick-knacks with so degree of amusent.
“Aaaaand that should be all of our most popular ‘destinations’.” Kathan spoke through an amused grin.
That little announcent clearly elicited Thacea’s attention, as she walked forward to ‘collect’ us from our little side quest, only to be roped in by my eager arm as we committed to just one more photo. However, before we could continue, I couldn’t help but to let out a sigh, urging an otherwise haughty Ilunor to join us.
“No, earthrealr, I refuse to take part in these impetuous acts of tasteless—” He stopped in his tracks, letting out one yelp, as I reached out to grab him once he ca into arm’s reach.
Following which, Thalmin soon took over chaperone duties, holding onto his squirming form as I attempted to strike sothing of a pose with Thacea.
A countdown quickly ensued following this.
As in little more than—
“One… two… three!”
—was the photo snapped.
A small sizzling later, and our peer group was immortalized with Elaseer in the background.
With Ilunor squirming under one of Thalmin’s arms, the aforentioned prince holding as confident of a triumphant pose as he could given the circumstances, whilst Thacea remained almost entirely removed from the chaos in a more ‘reserved’ Victorian pose, separated from Ilunor and Thalmin by , connected only by my arm draped across her shoulder.
Two ‘V’s ford on each of my hands concluded the chaotic ensemble, as I couldn’t help but to grin at the finished product.
“This is incredible work, Kathan, thank you.” I proclaid with a wide dumb grin towards Kathan, the turtle once more going for a big bow, only to be interrupted by Ilunor who took one good look at the photo and grumbled.
“If we are going to commit to such childish plays… then we are going to do it right. I demand a re-imbuent!”
…
15 Minutes Later
…
The souvenir shop crawl continued with a preoccupied and absent-minded Ilunor. The Vunerian followed behind, flipping through the stack of postcards — of which he paid for — eagerly debating to himself of which one he looked the best in. We passed by not just novelty snow globes this ti around, but little figurines of various mythical creatures, scale-models of anything and everything from coaches and wagons, all the way up to impressive spires and castles. The largest of which took up an entire section of the room, hidden behind a curtain to make its reveal all the more impressive.
With a height about two physical stories tall, and a width and thickness that spanned a good twenty or so ters at its widest point, the scale ‘model’ was massive. However, that sheer massiveness wasn’t just surface-level either, as Kathan was more than eager to open up the thing using a series of spells, cutting away through the sheer bulk of it like a knife slicing straight through a layered cake; revealing the living guts within. The most impressive feature being one that Ilunor yawned at — the plumbing. As a cutaway showed that even that aspect was taken into account, giving the whole structure almost too much realism.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from . Please report it.
This architectural marvel that looked to be a cross between the great European cathedrals of old, and so grand ancient gastructure like the pyramids, was later revealed to be an actual replica of so crownlands noble — a fact that Ilunor was surprisingly reluctant to continue touching upon as we eventually moved towards the final few novelty items of the store.
One of which seed to be your bog standard mirror.
Though Kathan insisted through a joking breath that it was in actuality: “The Magic Mirror of Desire.” A magical artifact that apparently, did exactly as was promised on the label.
Upon being asked how it worked, the man simply shrugged and replied cheekily. “Why don’t you take a gander in the mirror? Perhaps the answers you seek shall appear within.”
Sure enough, the mirror did nothing for .
However, when Thalmin approached, its surface imdiately began swirling.
A sense of curiosity hit , as we were all drawn to the sights and sounds the strange artifact was emitting, until—
“Swords. You are looking… for magical swords!” A disembodied voice spoke, as the mirror quickly shifted to reveal what looked to be an elven blacksmith in front of a forge. “You look like a strapping young lad! Ready to fight, ready to tackle the world! What you need then, is a manasteel sword, enchanted and mana-shaped, from Banvardi’s forges! At Banvardi’s, we have all manner of weapons at your disposal! From polearms to greatswords, to battle axes and war scythes — at Banvardi’s — the only limit to lethality is your willingness to kill!”
We all blinked rapidly at what was effectively just a—
“That was an advertisent.” Thalmin uttered out in frustration. “So that’s the magic mirror of desire?” He turned to the shopkeeper, who rely shrugged and smiled.
“Well, it is accurate is it not, your highness?” He responded, once again straddling the line between decorum and senile joviality.
With an ‘I told you so’ look from Ilunor, and a nonplussed expression to move things along from Thacea, we finally landed on the last item of interest within the store.
What appeared to be—
“The sword of legend!” The storekeeper picked up the display case item, which was effectively a boring, run-of-the-mill looking ‘starter’ sword from any typical MMORPG.
“Alright. What’s it supposed to—”
“The sword of legend is an ancient, and dare I say it, legendary sword crafted from the original proprietor of Banvardi’s forges! Legends say that the sword shifts and contorts to fit the wielder, or more accurately, changes to personify the essence of its wielder.” The tortle explained, before shrugging. “But don’t take it from , you can try it out for yourselves if you’d like. I assure you, there will be no hidden fees here.” He continued, actually maintaining a rather lax attitude for soone who should be peddling these more expensive items.
Thalmin and Thacea, unsurprisingly, refused to participate.
What was surprising however was Ilunor finally stepping up to the plate, grabbing hold of the sword from the hilt, and wielding it in a way that showed his lack of experience with anything larger than a butter knife.
ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 300% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS
Though that lack of experience wouldn’t take away from what I could only describe as the manifestation of the rule of cool.
A brief flash of light marked a change in the sword’s features, as it suddenly glowed an ethereal golden radiance, before turning into this almost semi-molten, yet-still solid blade of burning yellow gold.
“Impressive! Very impressive.” Kathan remarked with an approving nod, as Ilunor began waving the thing around, like a kid in a toy shop.
“A weapon isn’t a toy, Ilunor.” Thalmin cautioned with a growl, stepping in, and ripping the sword from his hand. “You should treat weapons, any weapon for that matter, with respect.” He chastised the Vunerian, before realizing that the sword had changed whilst in his hand.
ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 300% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS
A gust of wind emanated from the blade. Which quickly turned the flaming molten rod of gold into what I could only describe as a shiny and polished sword coated in a thin layer of ice. Snow seed to follow it wherever it went, as the rcenary prince examined it from hilt to tip. The shape of the sword itself soon changed from Ilunor’s rapier, to sothing more akin to a great sword.
This seed to at least amuse the rcenary prince, perhaps more than he let on, as he held it tightly in his hand for the longest while, refusing to even comnt on it before handing it off to Thacea.
The princess, anwhile, seed less than enthused about the gesture, but accepted regardless.
However, upon fully grasping the blade—
ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 300% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS
[ALERT: UNSTABLE SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED: 171% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS… WARNING: ANOMALY DETECTED… RECALIBRATING… RECALIBRATING… ERROR! DETECTING 29 1 DISTINCT TYPES OF MANA-RADIATION.]
—a deep and dark purplish hue quickly enveloped all light within a five ter radius. Following this, the blade itself started reshaping, forming into a shadowy purple blade made of pure dark flas; shaped into what the EVI quickly likened to as a ‘Cinquedea’.
My heart skipped a beat, as the warning, along with the dark purplish shadows, put in mind of the dark and disorienting void I hopped into on the fateful night of the warehouse explosion.
Though that hiccup in the otherwise lighthearted mood of the scene was only montary, as I laid my eyes on the object of Thacea’s supposed essence.
Because if there was one word I could use to describe Thacea’s sword, that word would be edgy.
And I reallyvibed with that aesthetic.
The princess, however, quickly handed the sword away to the shopkeeper, who took it off her hands with little fuss.
Though it was clear that both Thalmin and Ilunor were a bit bothered by the whole affair.
As such, I took it upon myself to quickly request the sword from Kathan, hoping to defuse the situation.
And defuse it I did…
As I grabbed hold of its hilt, expecting sothing equally grand, epic, or at the very least… interesting to happen if only to distract the two.
Instead, the whole thing outright flopped like a wet noodle.
The seemingly solid mass that was its tal blade, sohow losing all semblance of its structure, deflating and thus collapsing in on itself into a sad sagging heap.
Ilunor, seizing the opportunity, broke out into uncontrollable laughter.
Thalmin, anwhile, attempted to mask what was clearly a similar reaction… to varying degrees of success as he tried to look away… only to bare his fangs in a dumb grin as he couldn’t help but to look back at it.
“Now now, first-years, this…” Kathan paused, letting out a chortle in the process. “... was to be expected.” He proclaid, grabbing the sword back from as he quickly placed it back into its case. “The newrealr is clearly wearing so form of a mana-masking suit of armor. Thus, the sword of legend had nothing to draw its attenuation from, resulting in… the admittedly amusing sight.”
The laughter from the Vunerian was slow to die down, and continued all the way until we reached the cash register.
It was here that his smile began to wane, as the damage from our little sidequest was laid out to bare.
“One Vunerian Soft Toy, Fifty-five unique instances of imbued morabilia [CLOSEST APPROX: Postcards], one novelty desk ornant, one weather globe, one figurine, and one interdiate-sized model ship.” He rattled on, as he quickly turned towards the rest of the items we perused. “Unlike most stores, I do not charge for any interactions with my exhibits. The experience garnered from watching the youthful toying around with these enchanted amusents… is in itself priceless to .” He explained in a heartfelt instance of earnesty. “Your total cos to three-hundred gold. One-hundred and eighty for the imbued morabilia, and one-hundred and twenty for the rest of the items.”
Ilunor promptly began the exchange of currency, once again allowing for it to float up and into the man’s cash register from his purse, resulting in a grateful bow from the tortle.
“It was a pleasure, my lords, ladies, and highnesses. Please, if you ever feel the need to peruse my wares, know that I am always open. It’s not like I have much else to be responsible for, after all.” He ended that goodbye off on a sowhat dour note. One that I ended up bringing up to the Vunerian as I posed a simple and straightforward question.
“Ilunor… what exactly did that noble shop owner an by that—”
“It’s a matter of noble familial dynamics, earthrealr.” Ilunor cut off before I could finish that question. “I’d rather not touch such a topic, if at all possible.”
It was with a nod of acknowledgent that I filed that topic under ‘to be discussed’, along with a flurry of other subjects I needed to address when we got back to the dorms, or when the opportunity arose to finally address them.
Nexus. The Crown Herald Town of Elaseer. Ambassadorial District. The Adventurer’s Guild Hall of Elaseer. Local Ti: 1710 Hours.
Emma
We arrived, admittedly, a bit later than expected.
However, this tardiness was definitely not reflected in the sheer flurry of activity we arrived to find the guild hall in.
Because even before we arrived through those now-open double doors, we were t with the sight of exactly what I’d expected from a fantasy realm.
Actual, honest to god, adventurers.
With gear and equipnt as varied and diverse as the sheer number of species present — from elves of various heritages, to lizardn, satyrs, kobolds, and even snake-like hybrid humanoids. Though there were many more whose species I could not discern just yet, owing to the layers of enchanted armor completely obscuring their form.
All in all though, the once-spacious hall was now packed.
And it was clear why that was, as we quickly found out we were more than partially to bla for what seed to be a whole day’s worth of commotion.
“The legitimacy of this job is y7%w&l[ERROR T-201A. 72% Approx: suspicious], I think.”
“That’s my thought too… except it’s got the boss’ stamp i#<[ERROR T-201A… approx N/A.] on it.”
“That ain’t sothing you see il7%$d[ERROR T-201A…. 59% Approx: everyday] now is it?”
“Hey, any of you desperate enough to pick up that cabbage rchant’s quest?”
“You dumb or sothing? He’s offering up quarter-barons to catch so mythical creature, and not even the real kind!”
However, the adventurer’s various reactions weren’t the first thing on my list of worries.
As I quickly turned towards the EVI, my eyes scrolled through the list of error codes in the field manual. “EVI, T-201A, that’s a translation issue right?”
“Correct, Cadet Booker. I am unable to parse certain words as they do not exist within my existing reference language databases. Nor am I able to ascertain their aning to an acceptable margin of error, as seen within the working language databases. Current approximate translations are being conducted through inferential analysis-by-context.”
“I’m assuming you’re able to do this because most of the words spoken are still in High Nexian? Grammar too?”
“Correct, Cadet Booker. Although the quality of translation will be proportionally impacted by the frequency and density of High Nexian used within a given unit-set of translation.”
“That makes sense… I’m assuming it's also the unconventional ways they’d use High Nexian too, that’d make things even that much more complicated?”
“Affirmative.”
“Gotcha. Well, we have contingencies for this. Just keep posted on the expansion of the working language database, and I’ll see if we can buy so Common Nexian to High Nexian dictionaries sowhere later. That’ll definitely give you sothing to chew on, EVI.” I chuckled inwardly, prompting the EVI to respond with a set of loading bars—
…
…
—before simply marking the ticket as resolved.
No sooner was that little tangent resolved, did the guild commander finally arrive on scene, approaching with a vibe of discretion as we were quickly ushered to a quieter part of the room; with only a scant few eyes on us.
Most of the adventurers more than likely saw us as just so rich academy students not worth paying much mind to.
“So, what’s the news?” I promptly asked the guild commander with a level of barely-restrained excitent.
To which I first received a sigh in response, causing my anticipation to waver, and my anxiety to heighten.
“I’m afraid there are no takers yet, my lady.” He announced a matter of factly. “This… actually may take more ti than we had initially assud.”
I felt as if we’d hit our first real brick wall in this whole day of breakthroughs and whimsy, as I shuffled and slumped in my armor, crossing my arms in the process.
“Alright then.” I sighed, before turning towards the gang with a noticeable level of lancholy. “You guys can head off to do other things in town. I’m more than happy to wait here until we get soone, or until curfew’s up and we have to head back up.”
A series of nods followed, as thoughts and concerns over whether even waiting until night would net a single taker.
However, these thoughts, worries, and concerns, suddenly took the backseat, as a voice bood loudly from deep within the crowd.
“Ah! Yes! This quest shall do!” Two voices rang out at about the sa ti, as I turned to face what I could only describe as the most stereotypical fantasy protagonist I could imagine, with an entire adventuring party to boot. The man responsible for that proud proclamation, was a blond-haired elf, dressed in fine plate armor that glowed with an iridescent fire, seemingly emanating from within the polish itself. Next to him, was… what seed to be a kobold, but upon closer inspection, was clearly not. As he stood a good bit taller than most kobolds I’ve seen thus far, and his muzzle was just that much more sharpened and longer too. Beside the Vunerian was an avinor dressed in what was comparable to renaissance-era rcenary armor, with all of the flashiness that that entailed. Finally, there was a fire elental, who quite literally gave the group a radiant aura.
This group, radiating with both energy, experience, and above all wealth, held up the job listing high in the air.
It only took a mont to realize that the listing wasn’t ours however.
As I turned to look at the source of the other voice, emanating from a good few feet below the elf’s larger than life presence.
There, next to the radiant group, was a smaller, more disheveled collection of adventurers.
A dwarf, who I could only assu was its leader, held up my job listing as high up as he could above a helt far too battered and scuffed to be worn.
Next to him, was a small kobold, dressed in a tunic two-sizes too large for her, wearing what I could only describe as a single piece of platemail that covered them from their chest to their shins.
Continuing the questionable ensemble was a bat, wearing just casual commoner attire, with only a lute and a simple bow on his back.
Finally, there was a bear, his eyes worn and almost lifeless, glancing over to the fire elental of the premium group.
“This heat is far too intense for …” He groaned out, before slumping his head back onto the table with a loud thud.
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