Botia: A D&D Story - The Cyros Saga

These are dark times. Pelor’s light alone is no solace. A great and awful power has been festering throughout the Eastern provinces of Cyros; its dark tendrils are beginning to creep through the underbelly of this world. Ever since the army of light was defeated at Platinum City, Pelorian faithfuls have all but vanished into obscurity. Something must be done, but the world is clueless. It is only a matter of time before other provinces and cities are taken; even Arulin is at risk. I’ve been waiting for someone, or something, to turn the tide. Pelor guide us.

- From Levin Raniel’s journal, dated Sol 30th, 1405.

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A halfling’s stubby fingers were wrapped around a post on the starboard edge of a ship. The halfling was watching the waves break against the hull, the sun sprinkling glints of light on the wavy peaks. The halfling was sweating while trying to refrain from ejecting his lunch over the edge. I’m a showman, he thought to himself, and the show must go on! He raised his free hand and performed a weird flourish with his wrist before spinning on his heel and turning around to face the crowd. He made eye contact with a few of the rugged sailors before delivering the final punchline of his comedy set.

“And that’s why I always travel with a stepladder!”

The halfling performed a quick tap-dance, stooped into a bow, raised his arms, and held for the uproarious applause.

“Wot?”

“I dun’ geddit’”

“Wot an inefficient fing’ to do, innit? Stepladders are bulkier than you’d think,”

“Only if you’re a weakling, I could carry five stepladders wiv’ one hand, I could!”

“Who you calling a weakling? Come ‘ere!”

Before long, the halfling’s audience had been reduced to a sweaty ball of fists and shin kicks. The halfling sighed and began to walk back to the travelers’ hold. Well, that settles it. I’m a has-been. I guess I could always be a barkeep… every tavern could use another barkeep.

When he was halfway to his cabin, he felt his goat cheese sandwich creeping back up his gullet. He pivoted and made for the edge of the ship where he had been standing moments ago. The sailors were still fighting, so he hopped and skipped between them and tried to reach the rail. When he was almost clear of the crowd, he slipped on a puddle of ale and crashed into a meaty dwarf’s thigh. The impact of the dwarf’s knee pulverising the halfling’s stomach fast-tracked the ex-sandwich all over the dwarf’s garb. The halfling wiped his moustache as he looked up at the dwarf. The dwarf’s heavy brow darkened his eyes, and the halfling saw a thick vein begin to protrude in the dwarf’s forehead.

“Wot’s yer’ name, little lad?” The dwarf asked. His voice was gruff but not unkind.

“Uh, Tealeaf, sir,” The halfling cleared his throat and held out a shaky right hand, “F- Fluffy Tealeaf, at your service.” Fluffy noticed that some of the fighting around them had died down, and the other sailors had quieted.

The dwarf stared at Fluffy for a long time. He used the back of his meaty hand to brush off some of the sandwich bits. “Fluffy’s a strange name, even for a little guy like yerself’,” the dwarf said.

“Oh, yes. Well, uh, Fluffy’s my stage name you see.” Fluffy didn’t know what to do with his hand. Should I keep it out? It’s kind of awkward. I guess I have to commit now. Gods, why did I ever leave Morraine… oh, right. I burned down the tavern in front of the love of my life. That’s what I get for being a hopeless romantic, I guess.

The dwarf’s response interrupted Fluffy’s train of thought. “A performer, eh? That wasn’t really your best performance earlier, was it?” The dwarf chuckled, sparking a small wave of laughter throughout the crowd. Oh man, these guys are eating up everything he says…. “You gonna keep yer’ hand out like that forever? It seems like et’,” more laughter from the crowd. “Put ‘er there, I’ll put ya outta’ yer’ misery. I’m Captain Redrock.” The dwarf raised his cleaner hand and moved it towards Fluffy’s.

Fluffy had risked a peek at the crowd while the dwarf was speaking. For whatever reason, they were utterly captivated by the exchange. The audience is listening. Oh my, this is the perfect opportunity to redeem myself. As the dwarf’s hand neared his own, Fluffy jerked his hand back, running it through his hair before flicking his neck back and doing another weird wrist flourish.

“Ho, ho! Gotcha! Can’t compete with that halfling nimbleness. What do they call you in Bronzekeep, hmm? Dumdum McSlowbeard?” Fluffy proceeded to descend into a furious tap-dance that lasted far too long. For the finale, he leaped into his finishing pose, panting and looking up at the sky with his back facing the dwarf, his backside protruding. Moments later, he felt the impact of a dwarf’s boot swinging up and connecting with his prominent tush, then he was airborne.