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Slarthacore begins to follow the curry woman back to her booth. Halfway there, she strikes. What are you hiding?! Slarthacore lunges forward and attempts to rip the old woman's satchel off her body so she can rummage through it and discover proof of various wiles and treacheries. Moth! Help me! She's been trying to bewitch us all!!!
What do you MEAN you got distracted?! screeches Slarthacore. How are you supposed to record my exploits if you don't see them? You are the worst, Ghale. The worst! She looks at Moth. I'm not going anywhere with him. Also... Slarthacore quickly removes the medal from around her neck and holds it away from her body. She leans over to Moth and whispers in his ear. This whole thing was too easy. I think they let us win for purposes which are... Slarthacore pauses dramatically. Nefarious. She attempts to detect magic in the medal.
Slarthacore, slouching against a fence post, suddenly bolted upright. She watched Sneaky Paul run toward the opposing team, and she smiled. Oooo, intrigue. I'm in. She lifted her arm, pointing directly at Sneaky Paul, and jerked her hand upward to toss the rat into the beard of the opposition leader. Mage hand
As Slarthacore Slupcrusher approached the gatehouse mirror as instructed, a large woman trailing 5 or so children rushed forward, stealing her turn. Slarthacore howled in pain, though she hadn’t actually be touched. The woman, busy lifting her children to the mirror, one by one, glanced back, but didn’t apologize. “Unbelievable!” mumbled Slarthacore. She crossed her branch-like arms in outrage, sending bits of fleshy bark floating to the packed dirt at her feet. “I should have known,” she said loudly to the empty space at her left. “I saw her eyeing me about a mile back, remember? She’s just been biding her time till she could make her move. Write that down,” she told Ghale, her private chronicler. Slarthacore glanced over her shoulder at her traveling companions. They didn’t like it when she talked to her scribe and practically ignored his very existence. Jealous, obviously, that someone would want to record her life story and not theirs. “Come on,” she said to Ghale, rushing to the mirror as soon as the pushy woman and her brats moved on. “Finally,” she mumbled, shaking her mossy hair off her face. She blinked, clearing away the sappy film that sometimes collected across her eyes, so she could better see herself “as we see you.” “What is this?” she hissed, glancing behind her to see if anyone sinister might be watching. She appeared just the same as always—solid, bark brown eyes with no sclera; springy green hair; long pointy ears circling slowly of their own volition; flakey, knobby limbs; and a slight translucence—the dead giveaway that she was, well, dead. Slarthacore shook her head; something wasn’t right here. She whipped around and shouted toward the guard, “Is this some sort of trick?” He blinked at her. “Uh… What?” “This mirror, why is it here? Are you collecting information on us? You think you can just post a hokey sign and we’ll all line up like sheep?” The guard blinked again. “What?” “Who’s watching?!” she screeched. “Are they the ones who’ve been following me?” The guard continued to stare at her blankly. “Sure, sure,” she laughed roughly. “Play dumb. Just know that I’m not fooled.” “I… Okay.” Slarthacore smirked as she turned away from the gate to return to her companions at the side of the road. “You get all that, Ghale?” She glanced left sharply. “Well, do it! Once we get to the ceremony at the church, there won’t be any more time.” A moment later, she stopped dead. “Excuse me?!” Several passersby glanced over and then moved quickly away from her. “Oh, so I can’t go to holy places now?” she screamed to the air, lifting the hem of her oversized, heavily singed cloak. “A couple of priests burn me alive for blasphemy and now I’M NOT WELCOME AT CHURCHES??!!” She shook her head in disgust. “That’s low, Ghale. Really low. Just wait till I tell Sneaky Paul what you said. You think he dislikes you now, well you just wait. He's not going to let you go get food with us.” “It’s great, isn’t it?” shouted Moth to the group, gesturing and smiling at the city he’d finally managed to drag her to. When he’d met her on the road, he’d said he needed her, especially, for his quest, which only made sense. She hadn’t had such an epic birth for nothing. But it began to occur to her now that he’d been vague on the details. Slarthacore narrowed her eyes at him. “What’s that supposed to mean? Why do sound so satisfied?” He didn’t seem to hear her, so she picked up a rock and threw it at his head. “TELL ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” |
