It was evening in Bloody Jackie’s tavern, and an average one at that. The usual clientele was in full force, ordering drink after drink and causing an acceptable amount of bar fights. As long as they were buying more than they were breaking, the proprietor, Jackie didn’t care. It was business.

The tavern’s front door swung open to reveal two newcomers entering the bar, one of them a noble elf maiden, wearing a long blue robe, her opalescent stare marking her as a moon elf, a denizen of the Feywild. The other looked to be a human girl, but her overlong side burns and tangled mane marked her as one of the shifters, a race of natural lycanthropes. The elf looked doubtfully around the bar, obviously worried for her companion’s safety. Jackie cast them a glance, instantly sizing them up, and decided at once that they wouldn’t buy as much as her regulars. She ignored them, quickly averting her attention back to other eager faces.

“Are you sure this is the place you wanted to spend your Namesday, Godric?” The raven-haired elf asked, the worry evident in her voice.

“It’s supposed to have the best drinks in town!” Godric responded. “As long as you keep out of trouble,” she trailed off, watching Jackie herself smash an empty bottle over the head of a drunken sailor sitting at the counter. “Why don’t we just get a table over in the corner Lafayette?”

Lafayette nodded her assertion, and followed behind Godric to the corner. Godric automatically starts casting her eyes across the room, obviously looking for a bar wench to take their order. Lafayette also scanned her eyes across the bar, not for a server, but keeping an eye open for any trouble that would arise. Her thoughts turned inward to the fluttering spark of magic inherent to her, power pulsed through her soul as she was ready to attack should of these unsavory customers as much as looked at her the wrong way. As a sorceress, she was able to beckon primordial energies at will.

“And for you, ma’am?” a voice said, snapping Lafayette’s attention back to the table. She looked up at the serving wench, who looked tattered and tired. Apparently, Godric had flagged her down and ordered already.

“Glass of pinot,” she said curtly. The server nodded before moving away from the table. As she passed another table, a bearded man reached out and smacked her ass. Lafayette then understood why the woman looked so tired.

“Loosen up! Don’t you want me to have fun today?” Godric said with a fake pout, her overlong canine teeth bared.

Lafayette sighed. Godric knew exactly what to say. Today wasn’t, in fact, Godric’s Namesday. Neither of the friends knew what day that was. What today was actually was the anniversary of the day that Lafayette found Godric lost in the woods, alone and starving. Lafayette was walking through the woods on her to visit an Elven town when she saw Godric living with a tribe of wolves. She had no clothes, no shoes, and was fighting with a wolf over a piece of raw meat. Ever since that day, Lafayette had taken Godric in and raised her as she would her own daughter. And just like any mother, she was fiercely protective. Unlike any mother however, she could melt the face off of anyone who threatened her daughter. Lafayette had tried teaching Godric the same arcane arts she practiced, but Godric was always more connected with the primal magic of the forest. Lafayette tried to not let it bother her, it was still magic after all, and nothing mattered to her more than her daughter.

“I apologize dear heart.” The elf said with a smile. Godric returned with a brightened look on her face, her golden eyes flashing, as the server returned with their drinks. Lafayette lifted her glass with a smile. “To today, may we have many more years ahead of us.”


Matthias stumbled into the alleyway behind Jackie’s bar, belching. He had far too much to drink, again. But no matter how he tried, he couldn’t keep away from Jackie’s bar. In his mind, he was convinced that the pirate-turned bartender had charmed him into returning night after night. In reality, he was an alcoholic.

He stopped walking suddenly as the overwhelming feeling of a full bladder hit him. He glanced up and down the alley and seeing nothing but others as drunk as he was, fell forward, plastering a hand on the side of the alley and untying his pants. He closed his eyes and moaned, feeling relieved. In his distracted state, he didn’t notice the figure running at him from the side. He did, however, notice the pain in his cheek when this Eladrin landed a punch on him. He turned, plastering his back against the building, and barely managed to raise his arm in time to block the next punch aimed at his face.

“By the nine hells, what are you doing!” Matthias yelled angrily. He looked into the face of his attacker and was slightly taken off guard at how ugly the Eladrin was. Most Eladrin are known for their fair complexion and their straight loose hair. This Eladrin’s face was covered in various scars, and his hair was unkempt like a wild mane. He got no response from the character, simply another punch in the face.

Matthias grinned and raised his own right fist, which was tightly wrapped with a chain. He didn’t know if his attacker recognized the chain as a symbol of his affiliation to the Chainers, or simply thought it was his weapon, but either way he didn’t care. He lead with a quick jab to the cheek with his unarmed fist, and wasn’t surprised when his attacker leaned away from the hit with little effort, knowing that no one starts a fight if they’re not confident they can win. His jab was meant more as a feint however, and as the elf leaned away, Matthias landed a punch to the elves nose. The chain caused red rusty blood to spray out of the elves nose. The elf stumbled back, and Matthias grinned, moving forward.


Trek tried to not let the stares of the townsfolk bother him as he made his way down the street. Being a Dragonborn, he understood the looks of horror. Most villagers were not used to seeing one covered in scaly hides, being close to seven feet tall, or having hornlike scales as opposed to hair. Of course, he knew they were unbiased fears. He wasn’t going to attack the gawking passerby’s– in fact he actually quite enjoyed this little burg. Some long suppressed part of him wanted to find some heroic deed to accomplish, something that would stop the stares and validate his existence. He didn’t quite know where that desire came from. He knew he wouldn’t be staying in this town for long, he never did. Nothing could fill the part of his heart that desired adventure. He’d move on, and get the same horrified looks from different horrified faces.

He sighed, which came out as a hiss and caused a passing mother to tighten her grip on his child, as he turned his head slightly to glance down the alley he was passing. He noticed the bums and the reek of vomit, but he also noticed an elf stumbling back, holding his nose in pain and spitting blood. The next moment provided the assailant, a mere human marching at him with an evil grin on his face.


“You made a foolish mistake today, you hideous son of an elf and an orc, and you’re going to pay for it.” Matthias cackled, quite proud of his insult, and raised his hand for another punch. All of a sudden he was starring at the stars and crushed by a great weight. When his back hit the rubble on the ground he felt the wind blast out of his lungs. As he gasped for breath, thick hands pounded against his temple, causing spots to appear in his vision. Before he had a chance to react, the weight was gone, and he felt himself getting lifted to his feet.

“Leave.” Was all the rough voice said, sounding like thunder, and when the hand released the back of his tunic, he was happy to oblige. He took off, stumbling, pausing only to shout over his shoulder, “You’ll pay for this, both of you!”


The overgrown lizard turned his attention to the Eladrin, who was wiping the blood off of his face, silently cursing his luck. He was really convinced that he was going to win the fight against the drunk and be able to earn some quick gold. He recognized the chain as the Chainers symbol and knew that his enemy would’ve had a decent amount of gold on him. But once the Dragonborn arrived he didn’t want to press his luck. He didn’t know much of Dragonborn, but knew that they were a noble race with an intrinsic feel for justice. If he got this beast to turn on him, it wouldn’t be pretty. He glanced at Trek and nodded his appreciation, smiling his twisted grin.

“Thank you for your assistance.” He turned to walk out of the alley, when a heavy hand dropped on his shoulder. The elf turned around to see the Dragonborn with his other hand outstretched, as if for a handshake.

“Trek.” The Dragonborn said in his gravelly voice.

“Vivificus.” The elf responded, hesitantly grabbing Trek’s hand. Trek shook it a tad more vigorously than a normal handshake, and bore his teeth which must pass for a smile with his kind.

“Vee friend.” Trek responded.

Vivificus hesitated at this comment. He was used to people either refusing to talk to him based off of his looks, or convinced of his evil nature based off of his multiple scars, resembling the various battles he fought – both for his own survival and simply for a good time. He didn’t feel honored; however by the fact that Trek overlooked the fact that by his race’s standard he was especially ugly, or moved by Trek’s kindness, no, those emotions were for the weak. He did have to admit he was oddly amused by the beast.

“Friends, yes. Would you like to get a drink?” He asked, wrapping his arm around the large dragonkin and moving towards Bloody Jackie’s.

Trek nodded, and happily followed his new friend into the bar. Vificious smiled while leading the way. Maybe this creature would have a decent amount of gold that he could pilfer, or even better, maybe he could this dolt to rob someone truly wealthy.

by Stewaycol
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