“Later, Twixy, over a keg of Horse Piss.” Hiccup looks around for a moment, “... over there.” He points to the village square, a lovely open space with trees and flowers and chirping birds and a baroque fountain that features cherubs on unicorn-backs tastefully peeing into the central basin. “Tomorrow morning at the Hour of the Morning Wood … Just fickin’ with you, that’s too early. How about the Hour of the Morning Fire? Yeah that should be fine. Don’t be late, and if I’m late, wait for me.”
Ryuk starts to object but Hiccup silences him with a wave of his brass hand. “We all have our ways to recharge, Marbles, see you boys tomorrow.”
With that, the goblin heads east towards the small town’s tenderloin.
(0)__(0)
“Let’s head to the general goods store.” FeeTwix takes the lead, and quickly stops when he hears Ryuk curse. “What is it?”
He punches his fist into his hand. “That miserable fucking goblin grabbed half of the rupees that we scored in the storm shelter! How did he even do it? I put control panel locks on the funds knowing that he’d try to get more than his cut.”
“Did you promise him a cut?”
“I promised him 3%, which I will gladly give him.”
Their conversation is interrupted by a man pulling a rickshaw. Comfortably ensconced in the rickshaw are a pair of starry-eyed elven NPCs. “Make way for the honeymooners,” the runner shouts. “Honeymooners here! Make way!”
“Honeymooners?” Ryuk watches the runner weave in and out of the pedestrian traffic in the town square. There isn’t much, but he does have to pay attention to the mobile obstructions.
FeeTwix takes a mirror from his front pocket. “Anyone?” he asks his own reflection. “Ah, I see.” He returns the mirror. “My peeps say that there is a famous natural spring around here that’s noted for enhancing … um … endurance and fertility, which has made Sotla a popular honeymoon destination.
He jerks his thumb to the west and Ryuk notices the dozens of elaborately designed hotels that are situated on two narrow lanes. Their signs are illuminated by twinkling fireflies and advertise their various romantic amenities – from hot tubs in each room to something called a lube slide.
A tall, slender woman in form-fitting armor walks towards them. She stops and a breeze ruffles her short orange mop.
“She looks interesting.” FeeTwix nods his head up and down as he reads messages from his followers. “Oh I see, she’s a Thulean!” he says just a bit too loud.
Thulean Juvenile Level 11
HP: 308/308
ATK: 89
MATK: 8
DEF: 78
MDF: 43
LUCK: 14
She glances at Ryuk, executes a perfect cartoon double-take, draws two short swords and charges. Ryuk gets a knife marble in the air, which she flicks aside with a casual sweep of her sword. With barbwire baseball bat in hand, FeeTwix moves in a-swinging, only to be lifted in the air by an invisible force and slammed into the ground.
FeeTwix: What the hell was that?
Ryuk: Using her ghost limbs!
The Thulean descends upon Ryuk with both her short swords. He parries, and brings up his forearm as the armor fans out to shield him. Another dodge and duck and Ryuk is inside her reach. She spins to meet him as Ryuk crosses his arms over his head in a defensive X.
“We don’t want to fight you!”
The orange-haired warrior strikes with both blades and again his armor morphs to meet her attack. She grunts, grimaces, bears down on him and he just manages to kick her off.
FeeTwix: So that’s what ghost limbs are? COOL! Fans to the rescue!
The Thulean brings her blades down again and again Ryuk catches them with his armor. She lifts her leg up lightning fast and spin kicks him right in the face: -32 HP!
His vision pane flashes as he stumbles left and hits the dirt. He’s still okay for hit points, but a boot to the noggin is still a bell-ringer. He fumbles out a clear marble, zings it on its way and gets the sword mistress with a good, solid hit.
The town freezes all around him.
Individual droplets of cherub piss hang suspended in midair; the rickshaw man stands motionless, poised in mid-step.
A time marble!
Ryuk hops to his feet, palms a knife marble, steps in front of the intransigent warrior and aims right for her scaly, green-tinged throat. He waits for time to resume its normal pace so he can end this foolishness.
Well, he thinks, then again maybe not. It would probably be a better idea to interrogate her first and maybe kill her later, if necessary. He sighs, returns the knife marble to its pouch, equips a black marble and aims just in front of her.
Time undilates, the marble explodes and takes the Thulean warrior off her feet. FeeTwix sports an oversized blunderbuss, and as their orange-haired adversary struggles to regain her feet, he blasts her with it.
A bolo net wraps her up like a kosher-vegan-halal salami and takes her back to the ground.
In a conversational tone, FeeTwix warns her, “The net’s self-tightening monomolecular diamond wire, so you probably want to stop struggling before it slices you into sashimi.”
“Release me now, commoner scum,” she demands. “NOW!”
FeeTwix crouches in front of her and offers her a friendly and disarming grin. “All in good time, all in good time. You attacked us first, remember?”
She moves and hisses in pain as the diamond wire tightens.
“Anyone recognize her?” he asks his audience, his eyes black. He reads responses for a moment as Ryuk crouches down and considers her for a moment.
“What’s up with attacking us for no reason?”
“Not no reason. I thought you were an enemy, and clearly you are!” Her ghost limbs strain against the net, and again she hisses in distress.
“Seriously, what part of self-tightening diamond wire don’t you understand?” FeeTwix asks.
Ryuk: I’m sure your fans have already told you this, but if we kill her, every Thulean this side of Ultima Thule will be on our asses.
FeeTwix: They mentioned that, yeah.
Ryuk: What did your fans say?
FeeTwix: They said to question her.
Ryuk: That’s what I was thinking.
Ryuk examines her more closely, and can see how her chainmail armor is relieved to accommodate her invisible ghost limbs; the vestigial remnants of their dragon ancestor’s wings.
“Give us your word of honor that you will cooperate and we’ll release you,” Ryuk finally tells her.
She frowns and narrows her eyes to orange slits. “I swear not to immediately kill you; I make no promises beyond that.”
FeeTwix shrugs, makes the don’t ask me face.
“It’ll have to do,” Ryuk sighs.
(0)__(x)
The Thulean stands and adjusts her armor and accoutrements. “This way,” she directs them.
“Aren’t you going to tell us why you attacked us?” Ryuk asks.
“This way.” With her head held high she turns towards the string of love hotels gently illuminated by a silver moon.
Ryuk: Keep some type of weapon equipped. She may be leading us into a trap.
FeeTwix equips a black Desert Eagle in .50 Action Express and tucks it into the back of his pants. “What?” he whispers as they follow the Thulean. “You said to stay frosty.”
They temporarily lose sight of her when a cabriolet drawn by a clipped-wing Pegasus passes in front of them. Another set of newlyweds snuggle in the back, the man with his hand up under her wedding gown and a wolfish leer plastered on his face as she radiates waves of unease and uncertainty.
Yikes, Ryuk thinks.