Loose Ends 2 (2/2)
Garon smiled, as the words flowed from Bak’shaz, starting hesitant, and speeding up. That was the brother he remembered, normally curt but enthusiastic when he got talking. He’d been worried for him, after his snake died in the battle against the daemons. But now? Now Garon thought his little brother would be okay.
Putting his mug down, he leaned in, and the Skunkstomper boys (and significant other,) started talking about the logistics they needed to run a proper guild…
*****
“Me? No, I’ve got everything I need, to be honest,” Graves said, looking up from the latest batch of golem bodies. “While I’ll be assisting the Guild as needed, right now I need to see about making soulstoning and doll haunting socially and morally acceptable. Because if people HERE have problems, then the people we’ll run into out THERE will have problems, too. It’s better to settle the problem here first, so we have a united solution to present to the doubters out THERE.”
“All right, if you’re sure. You’re one of our members now regardless, so if there’s every anything, you let me know?” Garon held his hands up in a placating manner.
“Sorry. Was that too harsh?” Graves rubbed his face. “I’m used to having a lot more charisma than this. Twenty-two knight levels gone, that’s sixty-six points right out the window. And I wasn’t much of a charmer before I was a knight.”
“Eh, look at it this way,” Kayin said, walking among the golem bodies and plopping down right in the middle of his work. “It’s easier to grind your charisma the normal way now.”
“No, it wasn’t too harsh.” Garon shrugged. “You’ve got a ways to go before you piss off a half-orc. Even one who’s had a race-change, I guess.”
“And doesn’t that open up some big questions?” Kayin asked. “Like, oh, how do you think actual high dragons are going to feel about toy dragons horning in on their dragonity? Is a dwarf still a dwarf if he’s a golem and in another shape?”
“Well, the dwarves have that ‘undead are no longer who they were when they were dwarves’ rule, so that part’s easy for them at least,” Graves said.
Kayin nodded. “Yeah, but it’s more complicated for other folks. giants just flat-out don’t like the notion, but they don’t care if other people do it. The Gribbits are politely uninterested. And what about elves? They’re out there somewhere, probably. What happens when we run into someone who wants to be an elf?”
Graves cleared his throat. “Actually…”
“You’ve already had someone, haven’t you?” Garon asked.
“Yes. She wants to be a dark elf, actually.”
“Oh. Shit.” Garon was glad he didn’t have skin to go pale anymore.
“Would that even work?” Kayin asked, the marbles in her eyesockets glittering.
“I have no idea, but we’ve got no good excuse to turn her down, so we’re going to give it a whirl.” Graves held up a pale, stuffed plushie, clad in spidery robes, with a cruel sneer on its face and black, pupiless eyes. Pointed ears jutted out from silvery hair.
“Who in their right mind would… you know what, never mind,” Garon rubbed his horns. “Yeah, that’ll go over well if we run into any elves out there.”
“Do you even know what their beef with dark elves is?” Kayin glanced over to him.
“Not a clue. I think only other elves get to learn about that.”
“I’m reasonably sure this is just asking for trouble, but whatever. Speak with Dead.”
“Oh wait, she’s here? Now?” Garon said.
“Yes, I am. And it’s my choice!” One of the soulstones pulsed.
“Are you ready, Janice?”
“Go for it, Mister Graves!”
“Toy Golem!” He poured yellow reagent out of a vial, and it dissipated into the plush elf, as did the soulstone in his other hand. “Golem Animus!”
They watched… and gasped, as the elf doll’s skin turned from sheer pale white, to a regular flesh color. The black eyes rippled, then turned into white patches of cloth with pupils.
“What’s wrong?” Janice said, staring at them. “Status.” She frowned. “Hey! I wanted a dark elf, not an elf!”
“Ah. Er…” Graves sat down. “Oh dear. I think I see why the elves don’t talk about it much.”
“Why’s that?” Kayin asked.
“This sort of thing only happens when somebody gets a ranked up body. The rank won’t transfer, so the body defaults to the lowest possible rank of the form. Dire bears turn into regular bears. Misplacer beasts turn into cats. So that means that dark elves…”
“So can I be one or not?” Janice asked, thoroughly lost.
“Yeeess, but you’ll have to get enough elf levels to unlock the choice. And figure out the race unlock,” Graves said, massaging his eyes. “And for the love of Yorgum we need to keep this quiet. This is something elves would probably kill us to keep quiet and feel not a bit of guilt over.”
“What?” Janice said.
“Please,” Graves said. “I’ll explain it to you later, but I’ll need your promise to keep this secret.”
“Okay. You are one of the makers. If you want me to, I’ll promise.”
“I do.”
She did, then headed out, still relatively happy, off to show her friends her new body.
“We’re going to hit more stuff like that, won’t we?” Garon asked, as he stared after her. “Weird little secrets, stuff that we can’t forbid, because then people will want to do it more. Stuff we can’t predict.”
“Yes,” Graves said. “Which is why I need to stay here, and sort it out as it comes.”
“And I’ll stay here and guard him,” Kayin said. “Because he’s one of the keys to our kingdom, and this whole thing we’ve got, and he and Threadbare are central to the whole operation. And that lady over in the dwarfhold. What’s her name?”
“Irga. We’re staying in touch. I already cleared it with Grundi, we’ve got golem birds dedicated for that.”
“Yeah.” Kayin smiled. “Because this?” She gestured at the tables full of golems, “this is something I can’t help with. But keeping my shield buddy alive is. Lots of assassins will be coming his way if we keep doing this.”
Graves reached down and scratched between her ears, and she leaned back into it, purring for a second. Then her eyes snapped open and she glared at Garon. “Not a word.”
Garon held up his hands, and shrugged.
“Well. At any rate…” Graves said, turning back to his work.
Smiling, Garon found his own way out… and nearly tripped over Glub as he did. The little fishman had a pack on his back, and a grin on his face. “So when we going?”
“We’re going?”
“To set up the lodges.”
“Oh. Ah, it’ll take a while. The first one will be in the South, we’re thinking.”
“Right, that’s where you’re going back to, right dude?”
“Yeah, in a day or two.”
“Aw man.” Glub looked down. “Eh, I guess it’s cool if it’s later.”
“Why the hurry?”
“Eh… at first it was fun singing at the taverns, but…” he scratched his head. “The uh, the ladies from Outsmouth. They’re like following me, man. And there’s some… living women, and dudes, joining them. I think I’m being flirted with. Like lots.”
“And you’re not okay with this?”
“No man!” Glub clapped his hands over his mouth. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, most people here are pretty cool, but aside from those bomb-ass gribbits ain’t nobody’s got a booty worth slamming to me! And even if I was still inclined to that I’m a toy now! Got no urges, or equipment to work with that’d do anything for me. No, uh, I think I’d kinda like to hit the road. Fast. And maybe let the… heat die down some.”
Garon laughed, and put his arm around the guy. “See, this isn't usually a problem that most bards care about. But I get where you're coming from. Hey, is Missus Fluffbear still around?”
“No. She’s still sorting out the troops. And getting used to her promotion. So you probably shouldn’t call her Missus anymore.”
“Right, right… General Fluffbear. Gonna take a while for me to get used to saying that,” Garon shook his head. “Go help her. Run errands and stuff. That should keep you busy, I think.”
“Worth a shot. Don’t leave without me though, okay?”
“Promise.”
Garon watched him go, and headed back upstairs.
There was a hell of a lot to do. Cylvania was a shadow of what it had been, but they had a way ahead. It wasn’t without problems, but he had his friends, and he had plans and options and a guild hundreds strong, now.
He couldn’t say what the next year, or even the next month or day would bring, but he’d meet it with a smile.
A smile or a really big axe, as the occasion required…