Revva

Kobek the Healer smiled a toothy grin as he heard the bells at his store front jangle.  The evening sun cast a warm glow on the vials and alchemical tools laid out upon his table.  An imposing shadow took shape on the wall next to Kobek’s own shadow as the sound of heavy steps brought Kobek’s newest patron closer to where he worked.  Still, Kobek kept his back turned to the newcomer and focused on evenly grinding the herbs in his mortar and pestle.  A chair slid across the floor and creaked under the weight of the newcomer as he or she settled into the chair.  The air seemed to chill a few degrees as the moments ticked by, yet instead of disconcerting Kobek, his toothy reptilian grin only grew toothier.

Finally, the herbs in the mortar had achieved the proper consistency and Kobek carefully poured the grounds into a carefully labeled container.  As he tightened the lid on the container and moved to put the container on a neatly organized shelf, Kobek finally addressed the newcomer.

“I’m glad you came to visit, Arjan.”

A distinctly feral sounding grunt sounded from behind Kobek.  A voice then filled Kobek’s shop that evoked images of landslides, sandstorms, and gravel crunching underfoot.

“Be glad it was me, Kobek.  If I had been a street tough I could’ve had a blade nuzzling your spine a dozen times over by now.”

Kobek’s mouth twisted into what approximated a smirk for a Dragonborn.  It was rather convincing.  Turning to face his oldest friend, Kobek’s smirk quirked even higher as he took in his friend’s appearance.  As expected, Arjan’s impressively large frame sat straddling one of the chairs from Kobek’s waiting room.  The back of the chair faced Kobek, putting added defense between Arjan’s stomach and any potential attacks.  Even with his friends, Arjan retained his pragmatic fighter sensibilities.  Also, straddling a chair built for humans saved Arjan the awkward task of trying to find a comfortable place to put his scaly tail.

The two Dragonborn males looked at each other for a few long moments.  Kobek noted a handful of new scars that Arjan had collected on his impressively muscled frame; undoubtedly obtained in his new duties as one of the Queen’s handpicked elite.  Kobek watched his old friend look him over in turn.  Although his friend tried to hide it, Kobek could see the guilt in Arjan’s eyes as he glanced at the clockwork replacement that took up the space his left leg had once occupied.  The wound had happened years ago in a war Kobek was glad to have made it out of.  More importantly, he knew that he owed Arjan his life.  Unfortunately, he knew his friend didn’t see things the way he did.

Kobek’s mouth twisted slightly at his own choice of words.   Arjan’s right eye was a natural color for a Dragonborn, but his left eye seemed to shimmer with a ghostly silver light in the fading evening sun.  A gift from the Raven Queen, Arjan’s patron Goddesss of Death, no doubt.  Stifling a shiver, Kobek knew that Arjan had come for conversation, and getting words out of him was like digging up precious metal from the earth.

“Honestly, I haven’t had much in the way of trouble recently.  Crime in the city is low, even here in the Lower Wards.  Now that King Iskar has his Blades patrolling the city streets at night, only the dumbest or ballsiest of Temeria’s criminals roam the streets.”

Arjan’s toothy maw twisted into a Dragonborn equivalent of a sneer.  Like Kobek’s smirk, it was quite convincing.

“The man has my greatest respect as a warrior and a strategist, but taking in street urchins and vagabonds in order to train them to be hardened soldiers?  It seems preposterous.”

Kobek pulled a bottle of Hoshfield Whiskey from its hiding place on one of his shelves.  With it, he pulled down two plain glasses which he kept with the whiskey for just such a visit.  It was a ritual between Kobek and Arjan, that they could and would talk about anything.  Inevitably they would bicker, but they would remain honest and open, something that Kobek was very good at and something Arjan seldom felt comfortable attempting.

Kobek motioned Arjan back to his study.  Arjan stood and followed him, the chair he had just occupied creaking with relief.  As the two  stepped through the doorway and past the curtains that separated Kobek’s shop from his study, they passed an attractive Dragonborn female.  Seeing Kobek, she smiled a friendly, professional greeting, but upon seeing Arjan’s looming bulk, she froze in mid-stride.  Embarrassed for his friend, Kobek addressed the female.

“Arjan this is Revva, one of my star pupils and an indispensable asset to the running of my store.  Ms. Revva, this is my good friend Arjan, whom I believe I have spoken of.”

To her credit, Revva collected herself quickly and gave Arjan a polite and disarming smile.  “Master Kobek speaks highly of you, Master Arjan.  He had mentioned you were impressive in person, but even his description of you does not do you justice.”

Arjan surprised Kobek by gently taking one of Revva’s scaled hands and bowing slightly over it.  “You give me far more praise than I’m worth, Revva.  On the other hand, Kobek has neglected to mention you at all, although I can hardly fault him for trying to keep you a secret.”

Small patches of scales near Revva’s cheekbones shifted subtly, the Dragonborn equivalent of blushing.  She excused herself from Kobek and Arjan’s presence, but not before glancing once over her shoulder.  Kobek stood with his jaw agape.  Arjan studiously ignored him and took a seat on one of the stools by the small dinner table in his study.  Still slightly dumbfounded, Kobek followed him and set down the whiskey and glasses as Arjan surveyed the room.

Kobek’s study was a fairly spacious room lined on two walls with book shelves stocked with tomes of varying age.  Most dealt with alchemical and medicinal topics, but a few involved some of Kobek’s unusual hobbies, chief of which was sailing.  A work table near the far wall held a leather satchel of tools, some of which Kobek had designed himself.  A dusty canvas cloth and a few blueprints were carelessly thrown over the work table, but other than that Kobek’s study was meticulously organized.

Pouring two Dragonborn-sized fingers full of liquor in each glass, Kobek finally found his voice.  “Since when did you start flirting, scale-brother?”

Arjan took a small, appreciative sip of the Hoshfield Whiskey before answering.  “I suppose I’ve spent too much time with the King.  He’s hopelessly devoted to the Queen, but he’s also a compulsive flirt.  Also, my time with a certain gnomish bard has likely colored my experiences.  It probably doesn’t hurt that Revva has excellent scale-tone and good teeth, both qualities I like in a female.”

Kobek simply shook his head in amazement.  A decade ago, Arjan would have barely registered that females existed.  Now he was being so bold as to point out Revva’s teeth.  In a very human gesture, Kobek cleared his throat to note a shift in subject.  “In the other room we were discussing the merits of King Iskar’s new fighting force, the King’s Blades.  While I share your concern about the background of some of these recruits, you have to remember that the kingdom has a history of vagabonds-turned king.  It might be that the skills and circumstances that make successful rogues also make for excellent leaders and warriors.”

Kobek sipped at his own glass of whiskey as Arjan mulled over his next words.  Finally, he spoke.  “I dont’ doubt the skill of the King’s Blades.  And if you’d see some of the so called training that the King puts the recruits through, you’d understand that it requires a sort of psychotic dedication to stay in the group.  Still, I worry that the dregs of this city may well be the spearhead of the Queen’s army in the coming war.”

The two males sat quietly drinking for several minutes.  As the last rays of sunlight faded from the study windows, the sunlamps in Kobek’s study turned on.  With a few gestures, Kobek slightly dimmed the ones closest to the table where he and Arjan sat and brightened those at the far corners of the room.  The effect was startling close to a perpetual sunset.  Setting his glass aside, he refilled his and Arjan’s glasses as he made his response.

“I am a skilled healer, Arjan.  From firsthand experience, you know that I am not overstating my abilites.”  Arjan nodded his agreement, and Kobek continued.  “I could have set up shop in the Upper Wards or taken a position as a contract physician for the nobles in the Queen’s court.  Instead, I took my job as a healer here in the Lower Wards where I could do the most good for those most in need.”  Kobek took a sip of whiskey before continuing.  “Thug or innocent, I do not turn away patients, even if I know they cannot pay much or any of my standard fees.  I have seen the best and worst that this city has to offer, and I tell you, while life in the Lower Wards is better than most slums in other cities, it is still slum life. Up in the Silver Spires, it’s hard to see the dirt, but trust me my friend, the people that live down here are fiercely independent because they have to be.  Every day is a struggle and every day the Silver Spires gleam upon the mountain this city was carved out of, a beacon of all that is unobtainable by those in the Lower Wards.  Those dregs you scoff at are going to fight the hardest because they have the least to lose and the most to gain.”

Kobek lapsed into silence, somewhat shocked by the vehemence in his own voice.  Once, he had taken up a sword and shield to defend Arjan in battle, but those years, his warrior years, were long done.  His was a path of peace, and while he wasn’t concerned when a bit of his old spirit showed up, he was occasionally surprised by it.  The two quietly sipped their whiskey for a time.

“Do you remember the fight at Scree?”  Arjan finally asked.  The questions surprised Kobek, as he had been sure the force of his last statement would have incited Arjan to retort on principle.

“Of course I remember Scree.  It was my first battle.  I was was so scared my scales were rattling.  The sun was brilliant on the desert sand and the air shimmered with the heat.”  Arjan nodded at Kobek’s words to acknowledge that he remembered the same setting.  Arjan spoke next.

“I remember it was just another battle for me.  One in a long line of missions taken on by the Gray Company.  I was Lieutenant by then, tasked with keeping a batch of mercenary field doctors alive as they ran around collecting and patching up wounded Hruli warriors.  I remember the stink of fear in our troops and the ache for battle settling in my bones.”  Arjan lapsed into silence.  Kobek took the opportunity to top off his friend’s glass.

“What happened after the first contact with the enemy, Kobek?”  Arjan asked.

For Kobek, the first major clash he witnessed between the Hruli tribesmen and the Temerian Infantry was something he’d never forget.  In the chaos of the engagement, Kobek distinctly remembered soiling himself.  “I was scared.  More scared than I’d ever been in my entire life.  I got cut off from my squad and lost my sword when I tumbled down a sand dune.  There was sand swirling everywhere from the force of the engagement, and it was hard to tell whether the clumps of soldiers fighting around me were mostly Hruli warriors or mostly Temerians.  Then suddenly the sand cleared and I was standing facing a dozen Temerian Infantry.”  Kobek paused to take a sip of his whiskey.

“That’s when you came roaring out of the blinding sand and into the clearing, your sword flashing brilliantly in the sun.  You felled one of the Temerians with your initial charge and scattered the rest.  Then you turned to me and yelled, ‘To me, runt!’ and charged the next nearest Temerian.”  Kobek lapsed into silence, remembering the stark terror he had felt at that moment.  He had been torn between two conflicting decisions.  One was to duck back into the blinding sand, hopefully escaping the fight.  The other was to defend the roaring Dragonborn warrior that had undoubtedly saved him from a quick death at the hands of the Temerian squad.

Arjan set down his whiskey glass and looked levelly at Kobek.  “I knew you would fight by my side.  Once I called you to my side, you had no choice, really.  In the end it was a glorious, brilliant moment of carnage.  I was a spinning blade of destruction, and at every turn you had your shield at my back, knocking away blows that might have otherwise gutted me.  All told, over a dozen Temerians lay dead or dying.  It was a perfect moment.”

Arjan glanced significantly at Kobek.

“Until I threw up,” said Kobek.

“Until you threw up,” confirmed Arjan.

The two were silent for a moment before bursting into laughter.  Kobek’s laughter of cracking pebbles mixed with Arjan’s thunderous eruption of laughter, making a cascading rumble that echoed through the store.  It was some time before the two regained their composure.

A sudden thought occurred to Kobek.  “Arjan, why bring up Scree?”

Arjan peered into his whiskey for a long moment, an uncharacteristic uncertainty passing momentarily across his face.  When he spoke, it was in a quiet, serious tone. “After the Battle of Scree, the Gray Company folded in the ragtag survivors of the various mercenary groups the Hruli had employed.  You and the handful of field surgeons that survived were among that group.  In the upper echelons of the Gray Company, we often called you all the dregs of the company.  Over the next three years however, as the war dragged on and the weaker members of the Company’s command were weeded out, it was the dregs that became the heart of the Gray Company.  Over three long years of constant, brutal fighting, the Gray Company was broken and reforged by testing itself against Temeria’s finest.”  Arjan downed the last of his whiskey and Kobek split the last of the bottle between their glasses.

“Now,” Arjan continued, “the last of the Gray Company has come to roost in Temeria, to swear itself to the Temerian cause against a new enemy.”  Arjan eyed Kobek before continuing.  “I brought up Scree because the Gray Company became one of the fiercest fighting groups in the Temeria-Hruli War because the Company’s dregs were constantly pitted against the Temerians.”  Arjan took a long drink of his whiskey.  “And now King Iskar’s gone and made a fighting force of Temerians that have fought against other Temerians their entire lives.”

Kobek finally saw where Arjan’s thought process had lead them and finished for him.  “You’re not worried if the King’s Blades will be effective.  You’re worried that the King’s Blades will be overly effective,” Kobek said.

Arjan simply nodded, and slowly swirled the last bit of whiskey around in his glass.  The two Dragonborn sat in quiet contemplation for some time, lost in their own thoughts but pleased with the other’s company as only good friends can be.  Finally, Arjan stood and stretched which Kobek took as a sign that his friend must be leaving.

“Before you leave, scale-brother I need to give you your gift,” Kobek said.  Arjan looked as if to interject, but Kobek held up a hand to cut him off.  Standing, Kobek made the heroic effort of not wincing as the stump of his left leg settled into the artificial leg he had designed for himself.  In a quick stride, he stepped over to the workbench and drew back the canvas cloth to reveal what was underneath. Intrigued, Arjan stepped closer to examine what Kobek had gotten him.  Arjan’s sharp intake of breath was all the confirmation that Kobek needed.  His friend was most pleased with his gift.

“Scale-brother, I cannot-” Arjan began, before Kobek again silenced his hulking friend with a wave of dismissal.

“I have little use for it, as my talents have turned me away from needing things such as this.  You, on the other hand, are in constant conflict and may very soon be involved in an all out war with a neighboring nation.”  In spite of having little use for the item on the worktable, even Kobek was having a hard time not marveling it alongside Arjan.

“It was a gift from an extremely wealthy Pantheon Trading Guild member, as partial payment for a replacement arm I artificed for him.  When I told him I had little use for the thing, he told me that it was worth a fortune and was the best he could offer in repayment for being able to use his right arm again.  When I still refused, I found it sitting in my study later that day, and I’ve been unable to contact the man since.  I believe however, that he was an acquaintance of our mutual Tiefling friend, Felmont.”  Kobek shrugged, yet another decidedly human mannerism.  “Regardless, it’s yours now.”

Arjan was quiet as he picked up the item from the worktable.  It was as heavy as it looked, but that didn’t bother Arjan.  Its length was etched with intricate filigree and one end, the dangerous end, was worked into a stylized dragon’s head.  Arjan cradled the Magefire Handcannon like a mother might hold a newborn babe, or a man might hold a long lost lover.

“Does it have a name?”  he whispered.

“Not that I know of,” replied Kobek.

“She deserves a name,” whispered Arjan.

“Well, what do you suggest?”  asked Kobek.

There was a pause and then a sly, dangerous smile crept onto Arjan’s face.

“I think…  I think I’m gonna call her Revva.”

 

Happy birthday, Scarlett

Scarlett tried to stifle a yawn behind a silk-gloved hand.  The gesture was both ladylike and graceful, but she could do nothing about the slight tears that came to her eyes from the force of the yawn.  These she dabbed at gently with her napkin, but not before she caught her mother’s expression from the corner of her eye.

“Dearest daughter, while I appreciate the fervor you possess in your nightly studies, I do not wish them to interfere with your daily duties.”  Sabine Ruzanna was every inch a lady, and although she was no longer a young woman, she wore her years well.  Much to Scarlett’s relief, her mother also wore an expression of slight reproach mixed with knowing amusement.  As head Spymistress for her niece’s kingdom, Sabine was no doubt well aware that her own daughter’s “nightly studies” involved gallivanting across the city’s rooftops with an urchin boy named Wormsworth.

Scarlett had learned from a very young age that lying to her mother was often as painful as it was fruitless.  It was always best to address her with tact, respect, and honesty.  “I’m sorry mother.  I got so wrapped up learning about the history of the city’s port district that I must have lost track of time.” Sabine arched a brow at her daughter, but refrained from chastising her further.  Instead, she turned her attention to Governor Ormand, whose estate the Ruzanna family were having breakfast at.

Scarlett breathed a slight sigh of relief as her mother’s attention focused elsewhere.  She had told the truth, really.  Wormsworth, or Worth as Scarlett had grown to know him, had spent the night telling her stories that he himself had heard down by the docks and in dockside taverns.  Worth had an endless supply of stories that Scarlett, with her noble upbringing, had little firsthand experience with.  Stories of harlot-queens, and mad-kings, stories of vagabond urchins who turned out to be wandering princes in disguise.  Worth was a collector and skilled teller of tales, and paid little mind to Scarlett’s social status or half-elven lineage, both reasons why she found him so endearing.

A slight nudge against her knee brought Scarlett back to the present.

“Happy birthday, Lil’Stick,” Carrec Ruzanna whispered conspiratorially to his little sister, as he passed a small wrapped bundle to her beneath the table.  Instinctively, she found his hand without looking and he pressed the gift into her palm.  Scarlett glanced down the table to where her mother sat conversing with Governor Ormand.  He was saying something about the new fountain he was installing in his garden and Sabine was doing her very best to look interested.  Perfect.

Scarlett removed the bit of ribbon and cloth wrapping from the gift.  Inside was a small, polished disk of metal, about twice the size and thickness of a gold sovereign coin.   It was surprisingly light, and Scarlett guessed that it might be hollow.  Running her gloved fingers over the metal disk, Scarlett tried to guess what it might be.  Without looking at him, Scarlett could feel Carrec’s growing amusement.  Carrec loved doting on his little sister at least as much as she enjoyed the gifts he found for her.  They almost always carried a riddle, a puzzle, or hidden use.  Scarlett pushed her brother’s amusement from her mind and focused.

The disk was seamless, with no visible openings or markings to note where or if it opened.  While the weight and coloring suggested hollowed copper, something told Scarlett that the disk was actually solid, but made of a surprisingly light metal.  Although metalworking was not one of the subjects she was strong in, her father had made sure she knew the basic elements of metallurgy and smithing.  Using that knowledge, Scarlett guessed that what she had in her hands was some sort of alloy, a composite mix of several types of materials.

Still, having a good idea of how the object was made didn’t give Scarlett any idea of what its use was.  Surely Carrec wasn’t being so cruel as to give her a metallic disk with no quality other than being unusually light?  Scarlett glanced at Carrec, to find him studiously examining the contents of his soup bowl.  A slight growl of frustration threatened to bubble up from Scarlett, but she clamped down on it.  She would not admit defeat, not on her birthday.

The rest of the morning meal at the governor’s house was spent with Carrec growing ever more twitchy as he tried not to burst into laughter.  Meanwhile, the tips of Scarlett’s pointy ears kept turning redder and redder as she fought to ignore Carrec’s growing mirth at her frustration.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“Alright, Carrec!  I demand to know what this gift does!”  The words fairly flew out of Scarlett’s mouth as soon as she and Carrec were back on the family’s estate and out of their mother’s earshot.

At the sound of Scarlett’s imperious tone, Carrec drew himself up to his full height.  The boyish smile that made him look younger than his seventy-odd years was replaced by the regal features that looked so natural on their elven father.  “Demand, is it?  Do you forget that you are addressing-,” Carrec cut off as a playful slap from Scarlett hit him in the shoulder.

“Carrec.  Perea.  Ruzanna.  You are teasing me, and I will not have it.  Not on my birthday!”  It was Scarlett’s turn to imitate one of their parents, although this time it was Sabine’s frosty, disciplining tone that was used.  It worked equally well on interrogated prisoners and misbehaving dinner guests.  Carrec’s boyish grin returned as quickly as he had made it disappear, and Scarlett couldn’t help but grin back and soon both were clutching their sides with laughter.

“Okay, okay.  Okay.”  Carrec drew in a steadying breath in between laughs.  “Take out the disk and place it on your palm.  Oh, and take off your glove first.”

Scarlett daintily removed her left glove, making a show of it, as if she had all the time in the world and was not the least bit excited about finding out what Carrec’s gift did.  She then produced the metal disk, which she had secreted away in one of the several pockets she had sewn into all of her dresses.  With the disk balanced in the palm of her hand, Scarlett looked at Carrec expectantly.

“Alright, remember these words and remember them well.  Now, repeat after me.  Hearts spin tales and tales spin lies.  I spin truths and see them plain.” Carrec recited.

Nearly breathless with anticipation, Scarlett repeated Carrec’s half-intoned phrase. “Hearts spin tales and tales spin lies.  I spin truths and see them plain.” No sooner had the last word left her mouth, did the disk in her hand start slowly spinning.  Scarlett was startled, but was more intrigued than alarmed.  The cryptic nature of the phrase only added to her curiosity as she watched the disk slowly spin in a clockwise motion.  Although it was in contact with her skin as it spun, the disk produced no heat and did not cause uncomfortable pressure.  All Scarlett could sense was a slight pressure and a subtle half-sensed tingle of magic in her palm.  She looked up at Carrec.

“I have a few guesses, but what exactly is it and what does it do?”  She asked her brother.  Carrec grinned at her and said, “I’m the eldest son of my house, I love my sister, and my mother occasionally scares the crap out of me.”

Scarlett gasped as the metal disk leapt into sudden, swift motion.  It spun in a blur, but still remained cool and comfortable in the palm of Scarlett’s hand.  “It’s a lie detector!” Scarlett exclaimed with delight.  As she said this, the disk spun even faster.  Testing out her new gift, Scarlett slowly turned her left palm over.  Without holding onto the disk, it remained in place, even when suspended upside down from her hand.  Scarlett felt a rush of excitement and happiness, Carrec had really outdone himself.  Using her right hand, she pulled the disk from her left palm.  Rather, she tried to.  Instead, her fingers twisted awkwardly as the disk spun and she was forced to let go.  Next, she tried to pry her fingers underneath the disk, but again her fingers were turned away.  Looking at Carrec, she was alarmed to see a worried frown on his face.  “Carrec… how do I get this thing off my hand?”

Carrec clawed his fingers through his hair and looked despondently at Scarlett.  “I’m sorry Lil’Stick, I don’t know.”  In response, the disk suddenly slowed, almost stopping completely.  Scarlett and Carrec exchanged glances, and the look of fear on Scarlett’s face quickly switched to indignation and finally angry amusement.  She took a menacing step towards Carrec.  “Carrec, I’m going to murder you and enjoy doing so.”  The disk began to speed up at her words.  Carrec held up hands in mock surrender.

“Whoa, easy Scarlett.  That thing can actually be a bit dangerous to others if you get it spinning too fast.  Alright, to remove the disk repeat after me again.  “I spun my truths and I lie still.”

Scarlett held out her palm and repeated Carrec’s phrase.  “I spun my truths and I lie still.”  There was a noticeable alleviating of pressure as the disk ceased spinning.  Scarlett gingerly plucked the disk from her palm.  Seeing that it was in fact removable, Scarlett let out a sigh of relief.  Grinning, Scarlett hugged her big brother.  “It’s an amazing gift, Carrec.  Thank you.”  In response, Carrec merely grinned and ruffled Scarlett’s fiery hair.  It was something she hated, but knowing she would never break her brother of the habit, she merely grinned and slugged him in the shoulder.  As Carrec turned to leave, Scarlett called after him.

“Carrec… something like this must have cost you a fortune.  What I really wonder is, who did you get it from?”

Carrec grinned an even bigger grin.  “It’s certainly worth a fortune, but I didn’t buy it.  I stole it from a faery princess.”  With that, Carrec ducked behind a row of bushes and Scarlett knew that she’d never catch up to him, at least not in a dress.  With Carrec’s sense of humor it was impossible to tell sometimes when he was being serious, joking, or making light of something serious.  Scarlett glanced down at the immobile disk in her hand, which she hadn’t had activated when Carrec gave his response.  “Well, darn.  Now I’ll never know.”

From several hedge rows over came the sound of Carrec’s laughing reply, “Probably not.  Happy birthday, Scarlett!”

End.