by Pirateaba
“Mrsha?”
She shook, and then realized Lyonette was staring down at her. For a second Mrsha was still afraid, but then she realized she was in the inn. She felt exhausted, and she stared up at Lyon as the girl looked anxiously at her.
“You were shaking. Are you alright? Why were you hiding underneath the table? You should sit with me.”
She reached for Mrsha, but the small Gnoll suddenly lashed out in anger. She nipped at Lyonette’s hand and the girl pulled back with a cry of pain.
“Ow! Mrsha!”
Filled with hot shame, Mrsha retreated back from the Human girl. She hid by another table. So tired. So afraid! She remembered, and looked past Mrsha to stare at the Drake who was eying her.
He was there. He had been there when she had lost her tribe. He—
He didn’t recognize her. At all. Why?
Because of her fur. Mrsha stared down at her white paws as Lyonette stepped back, looking hurt.
“Sorry about that. I guess Mrsha’s just a bit grumpy today.”
“So I see. I might have upset her—Gnolls can be very territorial. It’s strange though. I’ve never seen a Gnoll with white fur before.”
“Oh? But you’ve heard of Gnolls with white fur? I thought Mrsha was unique.”
The Gnoll backed slowly away from the two as Lyonette turned to Zel eagerly. Her heart was beating too fast and she still felt—he had been there. And because he had been there, Mrsha felt like she was back there, too.
“I’ve heard of it. It’s more of rumors than anything else, but the Gnolls believe certain colors have meaning. White, for instance, is not a natural color for Gnolls of any tribe.”
“But it means something? Ryoka was saying that she thought it had a meaning, but none of the Gnolls would tell her what it meant.”
“I can tell you what I know, but it’s just rumors…”
Mrsha turned away. She covered her floppy ears with her paws. She did not want to hear. She knew what her fur meant.
It meant her tribe was gone. And it meant it was her fault. Mrsha knew that. She couldn’t deny it, no matter how much she wanted to.
[Last Survivor]. Level 8. That was what the voice had told her. It had told her she was the last.
There was no one left.
The knowledge crushed Mrsha, pressed down on her heart until it seemed like there was no air to breathe, no place to exist. They were dead. Her tribe—the Stone Spears—
Were dead.
Because of her.
It felt like suddenly the world was darker, the ceiling lower. And Mrsha was smaller, and it was hard to breathe. She gasped and trembled underneath her table as voices echoed overhead, weirdly distant.
She had to leave. She had to get out. Mrsha stared towards the door, and then ran for it.
“Mrsha! Where are you going?”
Lyonette turned to the Gnoll as she reached up for the handle. Mrsha froze guiltily, but the girl went on.
“Going to the outhouse? Alright, but come back quickly! And don’t try to crawl down there! Remember last time?”
Mrsha didn’t turn. She just opened the door and escaped into the powdery snow. Immediately the world turned bright and white, and cold. Mrsha with all her fur felt cold, but she didn’t care. At this moment she couldn’t bear to be in the inn, not near the Drake who smelled of death and reminded her of what she’d lost. Mrsha looked around the snowy landscape.
There was only one place to go, really. The city. As young as she was, Mrsha still knew the dangers of being alone in the wilderness. So she began to run through the snow, barely visible in the morning light. She was a white patch of color amid a scene dedicated to the very same color.
So perhaps it was no wonder the Drake on guard on the southern gate didn’t notice her. He was standing at attention, but idly. And he didn’t have the nose of a Gnoll, so Mrsha slipped past him with no effort.
And then she was in the streets, staring around at the building curiously, and at the many Drakes and Gnolls—and the few Humans—walking down the streets. A thousand scents assaulted Mrsha’s nose at once, and she breathed out slowly.
Better. She could forget. Only—after a few seconds, Mrsha realized she couldn’t forget. Here too was a bad place that drove her backwards in time. Because of the staring.
They stared at her. Drakes and Gnolls. But while the Drakes did it idly, wondering perhaps whose child Mrsha was, or at her odd fur coloring, the Gnolls were different. They stared and they knew.
It was too much to bear, so Mrsha ran again. She ran through the sea of legs, turned down the first alley she came to.
Quiet. Alone. That was what she wanted. She didn’t want—
Mrsha’s claws pulled at her fur. She pulled at it, as if she could get rid of it. Some hairs came out, and she felt pain, but she pulled more out, biting at her fur, savage, angry.
It wasn’t fair! It wasn’t her fault!
But it was. And as the despair flooded over Mrsha again, she thought of home. But home was gone. And the inn wasn’t her home. Ryoka wasn’t there, and she—
She wanted to go back.
Again and again. It felt like Mrsha was turning in circles, and she chased her tail in the wet alleyway, turning about until she was dizzy and wanted to throw up. But it was better than remembering. Anything was.
What now? She couldn’t stay here. Last time she’d run away from Selys, the Watch had found her because she’d tried to hide in alleyways. Mrsha had to go somewhere.
But where? Inn? No. So…
Something swirled on the breeze and Mrsha’s nose twitched as she caught a scent. Gnolls had powerful noses, but their children had far stronger tracking abilities. And so what Mrsha smelled was faint, mixed with a thousand scents, but she still caught it.
A familiar smell. Someone she knew. Instantly, Mrsha padded out of the alleyway and onto the streets. But she paused then, realizing one thing was giving her away.
She was on all fours. It was faster, but in her tribe Urksh had been teaching her to walk on two legs. Mrsha did this now. It was hard—and slower! But she had to blend in, at least a bit. A Drake [Guardsman] would stop a Gnoll child who was alone and on all fours, but if she walked like this, they would think she was older.
No one stopped Mrsha as she walked hesitantly down the street, pausing to sniff or steady herself against a wall or passing object. Perhaps the patrolling Watch members she saw would have paid attention to her, but they were too busy eying the Humans.
There were a lot of them in Liscor, or rather, Mrsha saw at least one Human down every street she walked. But that was many for the citizens of Liscor, and Mrsha saw how the pedestrians avoided walking near the Humans, especially the adventurers who walked in groups of their own.
Down the street. And then left—sticking close to a wall to avoid the rumbling wagons that went down the middle. The smell grew stronger the more Mrsha followed it, and soon she was able to identify what it was.
In Mrsha’s mind an image of a taciturn Human, sitting in a corner of the inn while Erin chatted to him, surfaced. She blinked in surprise and nearly fell forwards.
She knew him! He was the grumpy Human, the one who smelled like leather and alcohol and arrow glue! Mrsha knew what that smelled like. She’d always hung around [Fletchers] as they made arrows—until they chased her away, that was. But this man was different than the [Hunters] of her tribe. He didn’t smell like dead animals, but other things. He killed strange creatures Mrsha could not dream of.
The smell was coming from a big building in front of her. Mrsha blinked up at it. It was an inn, like Erin’s but very full of people—all of them seemingly Drakes. But Halrac’s scent was coming from within, along with the smells of alcohol and food. Mrsha hesitated. Should she go elsewhere?
But she had nowhere else to go. And she liked the grumpy Human. So Mrsha fearlessly entered the inn full of Drakes. She looked around and immediately found the Humans because they were sitting in a corner of the room, and most
of the Drakes had their backs to them.
Mrsha glanced around, but none of the Drakes were looking at her. It was because she had a Skill. [Natural Concealment]. Carefully, she crept over to the table where he sat, arguing with three other Humans.
“—I’m telling you, we shouldn’t stand for it!”
He sounded angry. Halrac’s voice rasped as he argued with a big man in armor—Mrsha stared his bulging arms—and a young woman who smelled like cotton and cloth and an old man with a staff who smelled of magic. Magic to Mrsha was the smell of burned ozone, the sharp tang of electricity, and a whiff of something else that defied explanation.
“We paid good coin for those rooms. I don’t care if that damned [Innkeeper] is offering us another set of rooms. How do we know he won’t kick us out of those as well?”
“Because, Halrac, we pay more than any of his other customers.”
That came from the girl with stiches around her wrists. She smelled of magic too, but it was the cloth scent that came strongly from her that intrigued Mrsha. The Gnoll stared at her as she edged closer to the table, sniffing to see if there were any scraps. Was her entire body made of cotton? That couldn’t be right, but that’s what it smelled like.
A man with a big, gray beard leaned across the table to pull a plate of the spicy flat cakes the Drakes loved to eat towards him. He took one and ate it as he spoke, sounding wise and calm, or like how Mrsha imagined wise and calm people spoke.
“It cannot be helped. The Drake who came by is a Lord of the Wall. To Drakes, that would be the equivalent of a major [Lord] or one of the Five Families turning up. We should count ourselves fortunate that he didn’t reserve the entire inn.”
“Arrogant bastard. I recognize him—he’s a commander as well. Did you see his arms and weapons? We don’t have enchantments of that quality. If it came to a fight, though—”
“We’re not at war, Halrac.”
That was all the big man said. Mrsha saw the [Scout] slowly nod, although he still looked angry.
“I say we should leave. It’s not worth the coin we’re paying to stay here.”
The girl with stitches and dark skin drawled as she sat back in her chair.
“Say I agree with you. I’m getting tired of being sneered at behind my back too, but where would we go? There aren’t any inns not full to bursting in this city and we can’t kick anyone out, unless we’re willing to pay more than we are now.”
Was she a [Mage]? Mrsha crept a bit further under the table, hiding under Halrac’s chair. She wondered if any of the adventurers would drop some food by accident, or if she could steal a snack. Probably not.
“There’s one inn that’s empty. I told you about it before.”
“Your little watering hole. Right. Well, it can’t be worse than waiting thirty minutes for food to arrive.”
The Stitch-girl made a face. The big man exchanged glances with the man with the beard, and then leaned forwards.
“You told us the [Innkeeper] vanished a while back. Has she returned?”
Halrac shrugged.
“I don’t think so. But there’s still a girl in the inn. A [Barmaid].”
The man with the beard looked amused. Mrsha wondered if it got in his way. Gnolls had fur, but not beards. Wouldn’t it get messy when he drank soup or ate food?
“An inn without an [Innkeeper]. Still fancy moving, Revi?”
Revi, the girl, frowned.
“Maybe. It’s empty, you said?”
Halrac nodded. The big man looked unconvinced.
“If the beds are empty, it’s probably for a good reason.”
The [Scout] rolled his eyes expressively. He jerked a thumb at a passing [Barmaid]—who glared at him behind his back.
“A place to sleep—even if it does mean we don’t get waited on hand and foot—is still better than paying ten times as much to be stared at like we’re pariahs.”
“Fine.”
Revi sighed. She looked at the man with the beard.
“Typhenous?”
Beard man paused and stroke said beard.
“I wouldn’t mind a bit more inconvenience if it means cheaper rates. If we’re planning to stay for as long as I fear we are, we should attempt to conserve our coin.”
Revi and Halrac nodded all eyes turned towards the big man.
“Ulrien?”
“I don’t really care.”
His voice was deep. Mrsha could smell blood on him—not a fresh wound, but the traces of it. She knew this because she was staring right at one amazingly muscled calf. She longed to poke it, but she knew she had to be quiet.
And then—noise! Footsteps approaching. And silence—an audible drop in the background babble of the inn. Mrsha peeked out from her table and immediately hid when she saw the other three beings approaching. She didn’t think they were Human.
“Jelaqua.”
“Ulrien. Is there room at your table for us to sit?”
Mrsha, curled tightly around the center of the table, heard Ulrien reply after a moment of hesitation.
“I don’t see why not. We’ll have to grab chairs and move—”
“Watch the Gnoll cub or you’ll squish her.”
Mrsha froze in surprise. She heard a rustle, and then Halrac’s glaring face peeked below the edge of the table with the other three adventurers. They all looked surprised, and the…woman…named Ivirith laughed.
“You didn’t notice the Gnoll child? You’re losing your touch, Halrac.”
“I didn’t think we’d be spied upon. You there…Gnoll! Come on out!”
Cautiously, Mrsha did just that. She stared up and immediately shrank back when she saw the newcomers. But they didn’t look angry…
“Halrac, you know this Gnoll?”
“She’s from the inn. I don’t know why she’s here.”
“Perhaps she’s grown attached to you. I have heard of stranger things.”
The weird-echoing voice came from one of the new adventurers. He looked like he was part crab or part…Mrsha had never seen anything like him before. She stared wide-eyed at the man, before looking up at the giant whose head was nearly touching the rafters.
“What do we do with her? I don’t suppose the [Innkeeper] would summon the Watch to bring her home.”
Revi frowned at Mrsha, and then smiled. Mrsha glared at her; she could tell when adults were pretending to be nice!
“Where are you from, little one? Shouldn’t you be going home?”
“She’s mute, Revi.”
The Stitch-Girl drew back and sighed.
“Pity.”
“Oh, let her sit here. Where are those chairs? Oh, thank you, Moore.”
The half-Giant casually lifted the chairs over. Mrsha blinked at her seat, but then sat in it. Her head barely peeked over the table. She stared, wide-eyed at the one who had spoken.
A woman with dead-white skin stared back at her, lips turned upwards in a smile. But Mrsha didn’t smile back.
The woman was dead. Mrsha could smell it on her. She was dead, but something lived inside her. It was frightening, and Mrsha edged away from the dead woman as she reached out to pet Mrsha on the head.
“Keep away from her, Jelaqua. You’ll scare her.”
Halrac said this irritably, catching Jelaqua’s hand. She glanced at him in annoyance, then looked at Mrsha’s wide eyes.
Jelaqua stopped, sighed, and withdrew her hand. She smelled like death, but she still moved as if she were alive. Mrsha’s fur stood up on end as she scooted her chair away towards Halrac’s seat.
“Aw, don’t be like that little Gnoll. You’re the only one of your kind who hasn’t walked twenty paces wide of me since I’ve been here.”
The woman pulled the plate of snacks across the table and pushed it gently towards Mrsha. The Gnoll hesitated, and then grabbed one greedily. Breakfast seemed an age ago.
“Here. Have one of these. And—[Barmaid]! Drinks for the table, if you would! Ale!”
The pale woman turned and call
ed out to a passing Drake, who nodded, eyes wide as she stared at the woman. Unperturbed, Jelaqua turned back and nodded to Ulrien.
“We’ll pay for what we order, don’t worry.”
Ulrien waved a big hand.
“Forget it. Coin for food and drink is hardly something Gold-rank adventurers need to worry about.”
Jelaqua paused, and then nodded her head to him with a wry smile.
“We’re used to arguments over it. And with how much Moore can drink, well, it’s good to get that out of the way, especially when we’re trying to negotiate.”
“Negotiate? About what?”
Halrac stared suspiciously at the three adventurers. Typhenous rolled his eyes and stroked his beard with one hand.
“There can be only one thing. The dungeon.”
Jelaqua nodded.
“Of course.”
“If you think we’ll give up our claim—”
“Halrac.”
Ulrien’s word silenced the [Scout]. Jelaqua shook her head.
“We’re not here for that. Rather, we’d like to team up.”
“Really?”
The adventurers on Halrac’s side seemed surprised, although Mrsha didn’t understand what was actually happening.
“It’s only practical. It’s too dangerous by ourselves.”
That came from the huge giant, Moore. He had a surprisingly soft voice and he nibbled at one of the doughy discs very carefully.
“We’ve gotten scratched up twice going in there. Both times we didn’t have the numbers for a clean fight. And I’ve heard every other team that’s gone in has run into all sorts of hellish traps, same as us. Those that make it out, that is. If we want to make real progress, we need to work together.”
“Seborn is right.”
Jelaqua took a mug from the tray the Drake [Barmaid] was carrying, ignoring the way the Drake flinched as she stared at the Selphid. Jelaqua took a drink, grimaced.
“Dead gods. This isn’t good stuff. How much do you pay to stay at this inn? Anyways, the last time we went into the dungeon we ran into a pit trap the length of the entire corridor and fifty feet down. If Moore hadn’t cast a spell we’d be dead. But after we landed—guess what was at the bottom of the pit? A colony of Metalbite Slimes.”